#and Dave says “Good idea. *You* tell her” and the way he says it and his expression is so funny to me

[redgearsmovin]

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[finelinevogue]

life goes on

summary - just a tiny blurb of post tour engagement talk

a/n : this contains a very brief mention of cancer, so be aware of that xx

word count : ~1k

pairing : boyfriend!harry x reader

The sun was setting just down past the mountains.

It had been a busy day and everyone was exhausted. You had all gone on a couple of yachts out to sea to dolphin watch and then come back and swam in the sea onshore.

After the end of tour, Harry had invited all of his family out to spend a month together in his gorgeous Italian house in the countryside. It was perfect for everyone, because it had endless garden land, a hot tub and a large swimming pool. It was a great house for the kids.

Harry’s family’s children were hear, and could be currently heard running around the garden with Nerf guns Uncle Harry had bought them to play with.

Currently, everyone was sat outside on the large patio area. There were bean bags, L-shaped sofas and other various comfortable chairs for people to sit on and none were spare.

“H?” Gemma asked, “Where’s Y/N?”

“Toilet I think.” Harry answered.

“When are you and Y/N getting married then, H?” Harry’s uncle, Dave, asked.

Harry laughed in shock and a few people cheered to that idea.

A lot of people were nursing beers and a few others with various cocktails they’d made for themselves. You had helped Harry set up a help-yourself bar for everyone to make whatever they wanted.

Harry himself had a Corona in hand, with a lime in the top because apparently that’s the best way you take it.

“Oh, let them be!” Anne shushed her brother up. “They’re still in their honeymoon phase.”

Anne watched as her son got all shy, blushing as he thought about how in love he was with you. Anne smiled, knowing her boy would always be happy with you by his side.

“They’ve been in that phase for six years now. The poor girl will run if he doesn’t ask soon.” Dave piped up again.

“Y/N can ask me too, y’know.” Harry suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“We all know you’re too romantic to let Y/N do that.” Someone else piped up, to which they all agreed.

“Heyy!” Harry protested, but deep down he knew they were right.

Harry had always wanted to get to ask you the big question. Being engaged and looking forward to his own wedding has been something he has looked forward to, ever since watching his first romcom.

Harry won’t settle for giving you anything less than the perfect proposal.

“I do want to be alive to see you get married, love.” Harry’s nan, Marge, chimed in, making everyone laugh.

“You will be, nan. I promise.” Harry held up his beer in promise to his nan. “And anyways, why aren’t you all nagging at Gem - whom is also still not married.”

Harry knew exactly why.

“Don’t believe in marriage, H.” Gem said. “Plus Michal says it’s too difficult choosing a ring.”

“That is true.” Michal nodded and agreed, making Gemma laugh and cuddle closer into his side on the sofa.

Harry looked at them and then towards the house, missing you after only two minutes. He wondered where you were.

“Have you gone ring shopping yet, H?” One of Harry’s aunts, Linda, asked.

“Yes.” Harry shot his head back around to face the conversation.

“Is it going to break the bank?” Dave asked.

“Nothing could dent that boys bank, Dave.” Linda laughed.

Harry smiled along, knowing the ring safely tucked away in his suitcase was just what you had asked for. It had been a reasonable price and it’s beauty outshone everything else.

“Y/N trusts me to pick out the right ring.”

“Good lad.” Dave nodded onto Harry.

“Excuse me a minute.”

Harry put his beer down on the floor and left his family to go in search of you.

He wandered into the house and because it was very open, he was able to tell you weren’t downstairs. He shouted your name up the stairs, but no one responded.

“Babe?” He called again, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

He was getting worried now and ran up the stairs two at a time. He wandered down the hall and straight into your shared bedroom.

No one was on the bed and no one was in the bathroom.

“Y/N?” Harry shouted again, a little more sternly this time. “Where the fuck is—”

He looked in and out of all bedrooms upstairs and the bathrooms too, but no sign of you.

As Harry rushed back down the stairs and opened the front door. He was ready to shout your name again when he saw you sitting the hammock by the front garden gate alone.

He closes the front door and furrowed his eyebrows as he walked quickly over to you.

“Baby? Where have you been?” He asked, dodging in between the cars as made his way to you.

You looked up at him and smiled, but it was one that did not reach your eyes.

Harry watched as you brought a small tissue up to your noses and wipe underneath. He put together, as he moved closer towards you, that you had been crying.

“Baby…” Harry said softly, coming down to crouch in front of you.

You swallowed a lump in the back of your throat and rolled your eyes at your own emotions. Harry was nothing but patient with you, waiting for you to gather up whatever thoughts you wanted to say.

Harry stayed crouched down in front of you, hands clasping yours to stop you from picking away at the skin by your nails - a nasty habit he was constantly telling you off for.

“It’s my mum. She’s back in hospital.” You sadly smiles, watching Harry’s face drop too.

Harry let out a tut and a heavy sigh, sagging his head in sadness.

“Cancer came back. She’s been in for a month and has only just told me.” Your words started to come out in splutters towards the end of your sentence as you began to cry again. “Fuck, m’sorry.”

Harry popped his head at your apology. “No, don’t you start apologising for things that don’t need an apology. Don’t care that this is celebrating post tour. All I care about is you and seeing that smile on your face. If you haven’t got a smile today, that’s okay but we’ll work together to put one back there again.”

You nodded your head in understanding.

Harry moved to sit next to you, laying you both down on the hammock. Harry sat so his feet still touched the floor, but you moved so your whole body was on the hammock and you could tuck yourself into his side. Harry rocked the two of you slowly and rubbed his hand up and down your back, whilst you closed your eyes and listened to the sound of Harry’s heartbeat.

“We can go see her when we’re back, can’t we?” You asked.

“Of course. Why do y’ask?”

“Just checking, in case you had music plans or anything.”

“Baby. You know I’m yours now for the foreseeable future.”

“I know.”

“We can go see her every day if you want.” Harry suggested, “And also. I don’t care what you say, I’m paying for any extra treatment and care to make sure she’s as comfortable as she can be.”

“Ha—”

“No I’m not arguing with you on this, love.”

“But…”

“Yeah, your butt is lovely, I know.” You could hear his smirk as he patted your ass lightly with his hand.

That put a little smile on your face anyways.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“It’ll be your bank account someday soon too.”

And you smiled again, knowing the prospect of an engagement was soon approaching.

[tgcg]

fond regards

… OKAY? AND WHO IS SAYING THAT? WHAT THE FUCK?

I -- ACTUALLY, WHO THE HELL JUST TOLD ME THIS INFORMATION? I'M COMPLETELY ALONE RIGHT NOW. ARE YOU SEEING THAT?

ARE YOU WATCHING ME RIGHT NOW? BASK IN THIS OVERWHELMING PRESENCE OF NEGATIVE SPACE. THE ABSOLUTE ABSENCE OF AIR SURROUNDING ME.

THERE IS FUCK ALL. NOT A THING.

NOT EVEN SOME KIND OF SEATING APPARATUS FOR ME TO STAGE THIS INTERVENTION FOR YOU ON. I GUESS I'LL HAVE TO "RAW DOG" IT OR WHATEVER THE FUCK DAVE WOULD DESCRIBE THIS AS.

I -- I MEAN… FIRST OF ALL. SHIT.

THANKS, I GUESS… FOR DOING THAT?

LOVING ME.

WHATEVER YOUR VERSION OF "LOVE" IS.

OKAY, ENOUGH BULLSHIT.

… LOOK. I DON'T KNOW WHO IN WHAT UNIVERSE IS RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE. NOR THROUGH WHAT KIND OF TENTH-DIMENSIONAL IMAGE PROCESSING PLATFORM OR WHATEVER-THE-SHIT DEVICE IT IS BEING DELIVERED.

AND FRANKLY I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF A FUCKING WEEK ALREADY TO BE DEALING WITH SOME POSSIBLY HIGHER LEVEL OF BEING THAT JUST "LOVES ME".

I WAS FLYING WAY PAST THE THRESHOLD FOR BEING ABLE TO GIVE A FUCK ABOUT EXISTENTIALISM BY TUESDAY AT THE LATEST.

SO SURE, THIS MIGHT AS WELL HAPPEN.

BUT IF YOU'RE STILL LISTENING TO ME RIGHT NOW: I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW THIS IS WHAT YOU'D CALL A "PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP", ASSUMING YOUR UNIVERSE HAS ANY CAPACITY FOR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS BEYOND BASELESS QUOTE-ENQUOTE "LOVE" OF THOROUGHLY UNLOVABLE INDIVIDUALS. HONESTLY, NOT A GOOD SIGN THAT YOU CHOSE ME OF ALL PEOPLE TO HEAR THIS, BY THE WAY! THIS IS NOT A GREAT LOOK FOR YOUR SUPPOSED NTH-DIMENSIONAL GODLINESS!

THE FIRST THING A TROLL WOULD FEEL TOWARDS YOU RIGHT NOW IS PITY. I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT.

AND THERE'S NOTHING PARASOCIAL ABOUT THAT WHATSOEVER, BECAUSE APPARENTLY WE'RE NOW MUTUALLY AWARE OF EACH OTHER.

I LEARNED ALL ABOUT PARASOCIAL BULLSHIT FROM ROSE WHEN I WAS TELLING HER ABOUT TROLL WILL SMITH, SO I'VE BEGRUDGINGLY BECOME KIND OF A MASTER ON THE TOPIC.

WAIT, FUCK. DOES THAT MEAN YOU AREN'T BEING PARASOCIAL TOWARDS ME ANYMORE? HOW MUCH DO I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU BEFORE IT STARTS JUST BEING A REGULAR RELATIONSHIP? WHAT ARE THE BOUNDARIES HERE.

DON'T GET THE WRONG IDEA BY THE WAY. I DON'T HAVE A PARASOCIAL RELATIONSHIP WITH TROLL WILL SMITH OR ANYTHING. THAT WAS JUST A CLASSIC LALONDE "MASSIVE ILLOGICAL REACH IN CONJECTURE THAT IS COMPLETELY OFF-BASE AND GENERALLY ONLY DONE TO MAKE FUN OF YOU IN A SNIDE AND INSUFFERABLE WAY, INEVITABLY LEADING INTO AN HOUR-LONG DIATRIBE ON PSYCHOSOCIAL DEVELOPMENT DESIGNED SPECIFICALLY TO FUCK WITH YOU".

SHE JUST DOESN'T GET IT. HE'S COOL AS FUCK AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT! THE AMOUNT OF BULLSHIT THE DERSE HUMANS CAN EXTRAPOLATE FROM THE SIMPLEST OF SPONGEDEAD NOTIONS IS MIND-BOGGLING TO ME. IT'S AS INCREDIBLE AS IT IS MONUMENTALLY FUCKING AGGRAVATING.

ANYWAYS, SINCE WE'RE APPARENTLY IN THE REALM OF SHARING COMPLETELY UNFOUNDED SENTIMENTS WITH PEOPLE WHO POSSIBLY DON'T EVEN EXIST, I HAVE SOME ADVICE FOR YOU: IMPROVE YOUR STANDARDS. MAYBE LOOKING INSIDE YOUR OWN DIMENSION WOULD BE A GOOD START. AND I'D SUGGEST SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T WASTE HIS TIME TALKING TO THIN FUCKING AIR IN VAST WHITE EXPANSES LIKE THIS ONE.

JUST A THOUGHT.

JEGUS, TALKING TO NOTHING IS HARD. I FEEL LIKE I'M JUST SPUTTERING COMPLETE INANE GARBAGE IN CIRCLES LIKE A DELIRIOUS WRIGGLER HERE. IS THIS HOW DAVE FEELS ALL THE TIME? THIS IS HORRIBLE.

WHERE'S THE EXIT?

[buckyalpine]

Work Wife

Bucky x reader 

Some angst, past crappy relationship with cheating but Bucky is a sweet baby and makes it all better. Lots and lots of fluff

“See you soon doll” Bucky pecked a kiss onto your head before making his way out to a new job he had taken up at a small bookstore. He’d taken a few months off of missions, needing a break from it all and the store that wasn’t too far from the compound was perfect. 

You smiled watching him run off, not wanting to be late. It warmed you seeing how happy he was, it had only been a couple of weeks and he was glowing. 

He clearly loved it. 

Every day he’d come back, excited to tell you about how his day went; the new book he read, how his coworker, Rosa, introduced him to a new coffee, the puppy that visited the store, the new café he went to with Rosa, how to processed an online order for the first time, how Rosa walked him through the whole thing. 

You were curled up in bed with Bucky, your head on his chest while he cuddled you close, telling you about the most recent events that took place that afternoon (which of course, included Rosa). He laughed about how the owner of the store, Dave, told them to stop flirting so much, it was going to make the other customers sick. 

“Almost followed her home today, she made these almond cookies that were so good, I wanted to bring you some but Dave finished them” 

You hummed, shaking off the tiny inkling of insecurity and jealously that had started to crawl up your spine. You were over thinking. It was nothing. Rosa was a coworker.

Bucky would never cheat. 

He loved you. 

“Come visit soon?” He whispered, before kissing your forehead and turning the lamp off so you could both fall asleep. 

“I will” You kissed his chest, biting your lip, wondering if it was a good idea. You had been meaning to visit for ages but missions and recovery had taken up your time. Now you feared actually seeing everything in person would make everything too real. 

You didn’t know if you could go through that again. 

*****

“Sounds like you have a work wife” Tony snorted, over hearing bits and pieces of Bucky’s day at the book store while you both sat at the kitchen island, eating dinner. 

“A work wife?” Bucky looked confused, having never heard the term before, he was already on the struggle bus trying to find the courage to make you his wife, what was this additional fuckery. 

“Y’know, like a close bond you have with someone at work and it almost feels like you’re married to them cause you get each other and there’s some banter and bickering in there. Like a wife”

Bucky nodded, it made sense. His relationship with Rosa was sort of like what Tony was describing and he certainly felt a deeper connection with her than just someone else he worked with. 

“Pepper says Nat is my work wife but Nat said Steve is her work husband, Cap still doesn’t understand the concept, so we’re all in a bit of an entanglement until further notice” 

Your heart started to hammer in your chest. You knew they were all just joking and you kept reminding yourself that Bucky would never, never cheat but...

That’s also what you thought in your last relationship. 

When he said they were just co-workers. 

When he literally introduced you to her as his work wife.

She was in every single one of his stories. 

His day wasn’t complete unless she was in it. 

You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt but surely being a work wife didn’t entail sending each other nudes. 

You swallowed thickly, trying to calm yourself down before you got ahead of yourself, Bucky was different. 

*****

“So...” You fidgeted with your fingers, watching Bucky get ready for work, letting your curiosity get the best of you. “Whats-whats Rosa like?”

“She’s super sweet. We have a lot in common, its incredible. I don’t think I’ve had that type of connection in a long time. She’s caring, she listens, more patient than I am, that’s for sure” Bucky snorted to himself, embarrassed over the number of time’s he had asked her to help him go over the system they used for returns. She didn’t mind, showing him again, every single time. 

“Oh” You felt your heart sink, you didn’t know what answer you were expecting from him but his words felt like salt rubbed on a wound. You didn’t want to dump your insecurities onto him, it wasn’t fair when he hadn’t done anything wrong. He gave you a kiss good bye as always before heading out the door. 

It was getting late. Bucky was never late. You couldn't fall asleep, your stomach churning at the number of reasons he could be late but nothing brought you comfort. 

“You’re still up?” Bucky had walked in quietly, expecting you to be asleep but you were up, reading a book, still waiting for him. “Sorry baby, I got caught up with Rosa, I lost track of time. She really is like my work wife” He strode over to the closer to change out of his clothes, not seeing the tears that had welled in your eyes. 

That did it. You couldn't swallow the lump in your throat or mask the sniffles that escaped you. You tried to bite your lips shut but you couldn’t hide the tiny whimpers that slipped through.  

“Doll?” Bucky frowned when he heard your soft cries, rushing out to come by your side, his heart racing when he saw how distraught you looked. “Babygirl what’s wrong”

“It’s-it’s nothing, it has nothing to do with you” You shook your head, not wanting to go into the way you had trusted your past boyfriends so much, only to end up hurt every single time. You were practically watching history repeat itself and you hated it. 

“Babygirl, talk to me, please” Bucky pulled you into his lap, doing his best to soothe you but it didn’t seem to work. 

“W-would-would you ever-ch-cheat on m-me?” You hiccupped between sobs. 

“Never doll, I’d never do anything to hurt you baby, you’re it for me. No one else comes close to you. Where’s all this coming from sweet heart” 

You sucked in a breath, your body feeling hot, almost embarrassed to tell Bucky about your past relationship but he had to know. You told him about how your ex endlessly spoke about his coworker and how amazing she was. It started off fine. Then he started coming home late. He gave her that glorious title. Then he tripped and put his dick in her. 

“You-you said work wife, I guess it just reminded me about him” You shrugged, “I know you like working with her a lot, Its just hard because I trusted him when he said there was nothing between them” 

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that baby” Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around you, peppering kisses onto your face. “I promise you it’s nothing like that with Rosa” He could tell by your face you were not convinced even though you were trying hard to believe him. You nodded against his chest, closing your eyes, hoping sleep would help you feel better. 

“I think you should me et her” Bucky smiled softly while you blinked up at him, his sweet hopefully eyes looking down at you. “Please?” 

****

You gripped Bucky’s hand tightly as he walked with you down the sidewalk, your heart racing while his was jumping with excitement. The bell jingled as he opened the door, the soft scent of books immediately evading your senses, calming you slightly. Soft music from the 40′s played in the background on an old record player. 

“Rosa!” Bucky called out, grinning when he heard the tiny footsteps rustling between the rack. 

“James! It’s your day off darling” A tiny old lady popped her head from around the bookshelf; she was wearing a soft pink cardigan, her grey hair tucked in a bun and thin gold framed glasses perched on top of her head. She was half Bucky’s height, standing on her toes to pinch on of his cheeks before looking at you with bright eyes. She was adorable. 

“Rosa, this is my girlfriend, y/n” 

“Oh! I see why you call her a doll, what a sweet heart” She didn’t hesitate to pull you down for a hug, cupping your face gently in her soft hands “He talks about you so much darling” 

“Y/n, this is my work wife, Rosa” You felt your cheeks heat up while Bucky smiled bashfully, excited you finally got to meet the people and see the place that brought him so much happiness. 

It all made sense now. 

Of course she understood him well. Of course he felt happy here. They reminded him of all the things he had missed out on. When he was with them, he felt like he had a small piece of his old self back. 

“What are you doing here Barnes” Dave snorted, shaking his head “Here to flirt with my wife again?” An older gentlemen made his way over, cane in hand, dressed handsomely, nudging his wife playfully. “I hired you to work here, not flirt with the punks that come in here” 

“We’ve been married 60 years, he still insists we’re just colleagues” She shook her head, elbowing his side while Bucky chuckled, enjoying the typical banter between the two, something he hoped he’d have with you one day. 

“When you’re on the clock you work for me” Dave shrugged, giving her a gentle kiss before sitting down and sorting a pile of books. “Shouldn’t have hired this one to work here, he’s been distracting you” 

“Can you blame me, look at how handsome he is” Rose threw him a wink before helping her husband while Bucky blushed beside you, walking you through the store. “Handsome little devil” 

“He’s a little shit” 

“They won’t let me call them Mr. or Mrs or Sir or Mam” Bucky shook his head, thinking back to the utter struggle her had the first week, getting bonked with Dave’s cane every time he slipped up. 

“Don’t age me, I’m younger than you, if anything I should be addressing you as Sir, Sergeant. You were already in your 20′s when I was born” 

“They’re so sweet” You giggled, squeaking when Bucky tugged you to the back of the store. 

“They are” Bucky hummed, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling you closer “I-I want that with you some day doll” He whispered, nervous with what he was hinting at. 

“and what’s that my handsome devil?” You stood on your toes, kissing his lips sweetly, your heart fluttering while he rested his forehead on yours. 

“Be happy with you, love you, grow old with you” 

“I want that with you James”  You could feel your eyes sting a little, snuggling into his chest, nothing would have made you happier than getting to spend the rest of your life with your soldier. 

“Propose to her already!” 

“Shut up and let the boy be” 

Bucky chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at you, giving you a few more kisses before spending the rest of the afternoon, cuddled up with you on the couch with some coffee, books, and his mind planning how he wanted to ask you to marry him. 

(and eventually he does propose to you. At that very bookstore. Dave and Rosa are 100% at the wedding. They’re more excited than anyone else that their son is getting married because Bucky is like their baby now. Your babies call them grandma and grandpa. Bucky still teasingly calls her his wife and she blushes like a little girl every single time)

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[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Dave Mustaine being the reader's stepfather and they fall in love and have sex (pet names, praise kink, size kink)

A/n: I wish this was longer bc I love this prompt so much for reasons that I should tell a therapist, I'm also assuming you meant grandma Dave but I just had this thought with 90's Dave, I think it could work no matter what era you think of it as that's just the era I had in mind while writing this <3

(I lied he must have stubble ☺️)

Warnings: Smut, age gap, riding, size kink, praise kink (kind of?), pet names, hints to oral (f receiving) but not explicitly stated or described, pantie stealing, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Your mom was young, she'd gotten pregnant with you when she was 19. She had a tendency to rush into relationships so when she told you she was moving the both of you into her boyfriends house you didn't think twice of it, you just got your stuff packed and kept it that way, sure that you'd be moving out in just a minute.

Your mom had a long list of partners, some were better than others but one rule remained the same. You wouldn't meet them until at least a year into the relationship, so you moved in with no idea who this man was, and you were pleasantly surprised with who you were met with.

Dave was, to say the least, fine. He was tall, at first glance distinguished and nice. He saw that you weren't big on talking with him so he didn't push you to do so, he let you hide away in your room as much as you needed.

The first week, anyway.

After the initial meeting he tried to get to know you better, he'd ask your mom about your favourite things so he could try to start conversations but it didn't seem to get him anywhere.

He honestly thought you hated him. You did too, but then you were in his lap.

It was late, you were just watching a movie on your laptop in bed when he came in. You weren't sure how you got naked, when you straddled his lap, it was a blur but suddenly he was inside you and your were bouncing on his length.

His big hands were on your hips, guiding you on his cock. Maybe it was the position or maybe it was your mind running laps but he seemed so much bigger than you, from the way he looked at you to how he bruised your insides.

"Oh, fuck, taking me so good, aren't you?" He mused, staring at you, right where he kept disappearing into you.

"Ngh, fuck, daddy~" You moaned, eyes rolling back. Your hands were on his shoulders, using him as support as you rode him.

"Go on, princess, you're doing so good for daddy, aren't you?" He praised. "Don't need any instructions, just needed permission to get off on me, didn't you?" You nodded, eagerly agreeing with him.

He was so fucking hot, his long hair reaching his perfectly perky nipples you had an oddly faint memory of licking, smudged lipstick covering his chest, those kind eyes and encouraging smile. Fuck, just everything.

"Daddy-daddy, m'close, 'm s'close." You whined, focusing more on your own pleasure and reaching down to rub your swollen and neglected clit.

"Look at you being a good girl and making herself feel good." He said with a smile. "Go on and cum on daddy's cock, hm? You can do that for me, princess, can't you?" Again you nodded.

You could feel your high approaching, it was so close yet so far out of reach. You kept bouncing on him, moaning as you felt the veins on his cock pulsing and dragging against your gummy walls, no matter how fuzzy everything became you had one goal. You could swear it was just there, that knot in your gut ready to snap but it stopped.

"Princess? C'mon, you can't sleep out here, princess." You heard. It was Dave's voice. He was crouched next to you as you lay on the couch, a movie set up in the TV but it must've ended after you fell asleep.

Dave had been shaking you trying to get you up. "It was a dream..." You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"Yeah, guess so." Dave said, pushing a few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn't believe it, all those feelings, those words, it was gone. Well, not really. It couldn't be gone because it was never technically there. "I came to get something to drink and heard you mumbling to yourself on the couch."

You froze and your eyes widened.

"I-I was..?" You asked nervously.

"Yeah, something about your 'daddy' needing to come..?" He asked. You stared at him, how could he be so oblivious? Thank God he was but how?

You spewed some bullshit about your 'dad' and he accepted that.

"Well, it's late, you should get to sleep. In your own bed, that is." He helped you up and kept an arm around you as he walked you back to your room.

There was a stinging between your thighs and you could've sworn you'd tied your sweats, they must've come undone while you slept.

Dave tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead, a strange wetness clinging to his stubble.

He got up and walked to the door but before he left he turned back to you. "By the way," he started and pulled a small piece of cloth out of his pocket, "I'm keeping these." He held your panties like a reward before he left, closing the door behind him.

[david-talks-sw]

I got a good feeling about "The Acolyte"

Not even kidding. Like, I've spoken before about why I'm wary of it.

George Lucas' Star Wars is something that intentionally has black and white morality, rather than shades of gray. Those movies are meant for kids and projecting a "gray" morality onto them then proclaiming it was George's vision all along is doing so in bad faith.

The narrative of the Prequels doesn't frame the Prequel Jedi in as negative a light as Leslye Headland, Dave Filoni, etc etc do.

See here for more details, but bottom line: yeah, a show that has a darksider as the underdog is bound to demonize the Jedi (who are the actual underdogs in the Prequels), and obviously that rubs me the wrong way.

BUT.

The trailer looks fucking cool. It really really does.

And more importantly? I've done some research... and Leslye Headland is ticking a lot of good boxes, in my book.

1. The Acolyte won't be a 10-hour movie.

I've criticized Disney Plus shows before, explaining that a big source for most of their issues is that these series are being structured as "long movies" rather than, y'know, actual shows.

But in this interview with Collider, Headland addresses that: it'll be a series. Not a long movie that you need to watch across four weeks.

Thank God. You have no idea how much that comforts me. Finally a showrunner who's, y'know, actually running a show.

And this goes hand in hand with what she told IGN, here, about how she's going about building suspense.

Yes! Exactly! That's how it's supposed to be!

Like, compare this to Baylan Skoll's storyline in Ahsoka.

In no possible way was that emotionally-fulfilling. For 8 episodes we had no idea what he was after, and the season ended where we still don't know. What does he want? What is he after? Your guess is as good as mine, it's something Mortis-related.

So yeah. Maybe getting the Emmy-nominated trained screenwriter on board to run this was a good idea.

2. Maybe the Jedi will not be as demonized as I originally thought.

Don't get me wrong. 80% of what she says about the Jedi makes me cringe. It's the typical fan's interpretation and y'all know I disagree with that interpretation.

It's painful to see her refer to the Jedi as an institution (not how the Prequels' narrative frames them) and to see her frame "Balance" in the "oh there's so many of them and just two Sith, that means the Force is out of balance" meaning... but at least she acknowledges the Jedi are a benevolent institution.

They're not an "elitist force hiding in their ivory tower" as others have described the Jedi.

Moreover, there'll be a variety of Jedi POVs, many personalities.

Yord Fandar, is described as a strictly by-the-book Jedi Knight and guardian from the Jedi Temple, is an overachiever and a rule follower.

The question now becomes: will the narrative frame him as "your typical Jedi" or is it just this one guy? I'm hoping it's the latter.

I also like how her reasoning goes re: Jedi drawing their lightsabers.

Which explains the hand-to-hand combat seen in the trailer.

This teenager is coming at Carrie-Ann Moss with a dagger, of course the Jedi won't draw her saber.

3. She's a fan of Star Wars... but a screenwriter first.

You can tell in the interviews she's a fan. She's using words like "BBY" and "EU" casually. In the above-linked interviews she's bringing up the Nightsisters, Timothy Zahn, The Clone Wars, she mentions she has a tattoo of Ralph McQuarrie's concept art of Leia, the High Republic books, etc.

She's done her homework. She's a fan.

But the vibe I'm getting from these interviews is that she's weaving in these various lore-elements in a more organic way, rather than in the "fan-servicey" way Dave Filoni has been doing in his shows.

The references and Easter Eggs will be there, but the narrative won't bend over itself just so you can get it. Crafting a good story comes first, and Andor is a beautiful illustration of why this is true.

Which is why I was never bothered about one of the writers never having watched Star Wars before getting the job. You need those fresh eyes when you're tackling something of this scale.

That makes sense to me. Maybe it's because of my own screenwriting experience, but yeah. That out-of-the box perspective is precious.

And like, obviously, that writer watched the films eventually, but for some reason everyone who bitched about Headland omitted that detail and opted for a more bad faith interpretation.

Hm. Wonder why.

Maybe it's the same reason that months ago this clipped audio circulated socials without context, in which she debates whether Star Wars only came from George Lucas and only Lucas is the key.

The FULL context of that interview reveals that she's actually:

debating the "autheur director" myth and positing that it was achieved by a collective of excellent filmmakers and craftspeople that George was skilled and smart enough to recruit...

the studios now think it's a simple as hiring one guy and throwing money at him, because they have no idea what the fuck they're talking about. See Napoleon (2023) for example.

Yes, she also does a jab to the Prequels, which speaks to the generation of fans she's a part of... but overall she's giving Lucas props whilst also stating an ideological difference, that's it!

George is a proponent of the "autheur" theory, Leslye isn't.

However, guess what, in like half the talks George gave post-selling Star Wars? He's giving shoutouts to everyone who helped make the first film, even remembering their names.

So I'm not even sure he'd vehemently disagree with Leslye, in fact they'd prolly have a conversation about it and immediately bitch about how stupid studio executives are :D

But that's not as incendiary, is it? Again, the more I do the research, the more it feels like the reason most of these influencers are hating on her is purely sexist.

I mean, on IGN she's even acknowledging that she does plan on taking stock of fan reactions for Season 2.

It's not a guarantee that she'll incorporate the feedback, but at least that's more consideration than, say, JJ Abrams or Rian Johnson gave the fandom.

She's even bringing the moral ambiguity that the Gray Jedi-loving edge-lords love so much.

"No, she's a woke feminist! Anything she does is evil! Eww, girls!"

🙄

Needless to say... I'm gonna give it a shot.

I think it's gonna be a good show, I think it's gonna be a solid story.

I'm crossing my fingers that they won't as biased against the Jedi as it seems they'll be. Even if they are... if it's still an enjoyable experience, I'll gloss over it.

As @gffa states in this post:

Worst case? It's not a story from George. I can dismiss it from my headcanon without a moment's hesitation :D

[guiltyasdave]

only bought this dress so you could take it off

series masterlist • this is part I

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: I was on my summer vacation last week, and I’m suffering from severe Dave York brainrot lately, which inspired a vivid daydream of Dave taking me on a little trip and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I was planning to keep it a oneshot, but there are so many more ideas for this floating around in my head, so a part 2 miiight be happening. Please read the warnings, this one’s nasty! (it’s the murder daddy energy)

word count: ~10.4k (this was supposed to be a nice little pwp, idk what happened) (Dave was holding me at gun-point)

summary: You have been sleeping with Dave York for a few months, keeping things casual, when he suggests to go on vacation together. You’re not sure what to expect, but you agree, and Dave takes very good care of you.

warnings: bits of angst, dubious morality (Dave is cheating on his wife), kinda unhealthy relationship dynamics, age-gap implied, alcohol consumption, able-bodied reader, Dave pulls her hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, rough sex, semi-public touching, sir kink, degradation kink, rough oral sex (m receiving), unprotected piv (reader is on bc in my head, but it’s not mentioned in the fic), dirty talk, Dave is a menace, spanking, choking, edging, spit kink, restraints, idiots in love, let me know if I missed any!

this is explicit 18+ content, minors do not interact pleaseeeee

Your phone starts buzzing on your work desk around 8 AM. You just got into the office and are starring at your monitor blankly, nursing a to-go cup of too expensive coffee and questioning your life choices. A regular Tuesday really.

You groan and flick your eyes down to your phone, your mind way too exhausted to deal with whoever is trying to contact you right now. You read the name on the screen and do a double take, your tiredness immediately forgotten. You hastily grab the device and press the green button to accept the call.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound just as eager as you suddenly feel. He doesn’t need to know the effect a simple call from him has on you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. What took you so long to answer, huh?” his voice sounds in your ear, calm and composed as always, but with a hint of teasing. You bite your lip, thankful that he can’t see how just hearing him speak has a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“S-sorry, just work and everything, you know?”

You can’t help the little sigh that you let out -work really has been a nightmare lately- and he chuckles sympathetically.

“You poor thing. Speaking of work, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

He knows fully well that he doesn’t need to ask you favors - you’d give him everything he wants, without question. His usual demanding tone is lacing his words and you involuntary clench your thighs together. God, you’re down so bad for this man.

This, as you need to keep reminding yourself, married man, who lives the perfect suburban life with his wife and their two kids. He’s not in love with you, you’re well aware of that, and you’re trying your hardest not to fall in love with him either.

You don’t know what exactly is going on between him and his wife and you don’t pry. He’s told you that things between them aren’t working out anymore and that they’ve agreed to stay together and play happy family until their girls are older. You’re not dumb, you know that this is the kind of story that every cheating man tells the other woman. And you’d probably call him out on his bullshit, if he were any other man. Hell, you wouldn’t have gotten involved with any other married man in the first place.

But Dave isn’t just any man and he’s got you wrapped around his finger ever since you met in a hotel bar a few months ago. You had just been stood up at said bar and Dave had been on a business trip, spending the night there. He came up to you, looking more handsome than any man should have the right to, bought you a drink and had you following him up to his room in the blink of an eye, which led to sex that was easily the best you had ever had.

Now, Dave calls you regularly, mostly when he’s close enough to meet up, but also some nights when he whispers filthy things into your ear until you come on your own fingers because he is too far away to put his hands on you.

You like to think that he cares about you, that you’re not just the willing means to an end and that you can actually give him something that he can’t get anywhere else. Something soft, a person that cares for him and gives him the chance to be soft as well. Because they exist, those moments of softness, in between tangled sheets and laughs shared in the darkness of your room, his fingers mindlessly dancing over your body when he thinks you’re already asleep and his lips pressed against yours a little too urgently when he’s saying goodbye to you.

But most of the time, Dave doesn’t like to care. He also doesn’t like to be soft. He’s ruthless, his edges sharp like a knife and he likes coming at you hard. He doesn’t tell you exactly what he does for a living, but you suspect that it’s dangerous and violent. He needs an outlet, somewhere he can let his aggressions run free, someone he can control.

This, you can definitely give him. You let him take it out on you when things get too much, you give up all control to him, and you love it. And he knows that you do. Sometimes you wonder if that’s the only reason he’s keeping you around, but you can’t bring yourself to believe it.

So, when your phone lights up with his name, you answer, trying to conceal your desperation to hear his voice, the hold he has on you, even if you’re fighting a losing battle. And when he’s asking for a favor, you hum questioningly, even though you already know that your answer will be “yes”.

“Take the next week off, and pack a bag. I’m having a few free days, so we’re going away for a bit, I’m picking you up on Saturday.”

He’s basically giving you an order, not stopping to ask if you’ve already got plans, if this might be a bad time, anything. Do this, be there, stat. Because he knows that you will do as he says and you know it, too.

Excitement bubbles up in you, the prospect of spending a whole week with Dave, something of a vacation, from what it sounds like, is more than you had ever allowed yourself to even daydream about. This is not what your relationship is about, it’s not what you do. Except that… apparently it is?

“I- okay, yes. That- that sounds great, Dave.” Your delight at his proposal is clear in your voice. “Where are we going? What do I need to pack? Do I need to prepare anything?”

He chuckles again and you can picture him shaking his head.

“No doll, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Just bring your passport and pack for warm weather. And, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave and he’s basically purring in your ear. “The sluttier, the better.”

He hangs up without waiting for your answer. You’re left to spend the rest of your workday in a daze, your panties soaked and your head busy with already cataloguing your entire closet and which things you’ll pack.

The days pass you by in weird chunks of time. On one hand, you can’t wait for Saturday, while on the other hand, you feel terribly unprepared, causing anxiety to creep up on you several times throughout the week. Every vacation you’ve ever been on has been meticulously organized and planned out by yourself and the lack of knowledge that you’re dealing with right now is entirely foreign to you.

What if you need a certain vaccine for wherever you’re going and you don’t have it? What if the flight has an early check-in that you need to take care of? Has Dave booked a hotel? How are the reviews? What do you need to prepare for?

The nervous urge to be ready for every kind of situation that you can’t satisfy right now is threatening to drive you crazy and you need to remind yourself more than once that this is Dave that you’re dealing with. Not one of your ex-boyfriends that would’ve come up with some half-assed plan that lacked in several vital points and required you to take care of things yourself eventually.

Dave is even more thorough than you, he doesn’t leave anything up to chance and he doesn’t forget things. You’re still reeling from the mere fact that he’s planning to take you away for a whole week. You’ve never spent that much uninterrupted time together and you honestly hadn’t thought that he would want to. This is couple stuff. And you’re not a couple. You’re just someone he sleeps with occasionally. You need to remember at least that.

You have texted him a few times, trying to get more information about the trip, but he hasn’t budged. You only manage to find out that he’ll come pick you up Saturday morning and that you’ll be gone for a whole week. And that you should pack a lot of bikinis.

“You make sure you’ll look good for me, and I’ll take care of the rest,” his text read. Followed up by a stern, “Stop worrying.”

You try taking his words to heart and get prepared in the one way you can: Buying lots of skimpy dresses and bikinis. You vividly picture him taking them off of you and it works. You do stop worrying.

Saturday finally rolls around and you’re ready, suitcase fully packed and dressed in a skirt so short that it will probably have you freezing your ass off on the airplane, but you can hardly bring yourself to care.

His taxi finally pulls up to your apartment building and he jumps out to meet you while the driver loads in your suitcase. You can’t help the giddy smile that’s on your face when Dave’s arms envelop you and your lips are on his before he even gets a greeting out. He chuckles as he kisses you softly, one of his hands cupping the back of your head, before he pulls away slightly to look at you. You’re breathless; the sight of him in his crisp shirt, the top two buttons undone to show off a sliver of his broad chest, his sharp jawline and those brown eyes trained firmly on you already enough to drive you a little crazy with need for him.

“Miss me that much, huh?” he murmurs against your lips, one hand still in your hair while the other one trails down to the hem of your skirt and skims the backside of your thighs before he gives your ass a rough squeeze. You nod quickly as a breath leaves you, not quite a moan but enough to clearly show him the effect his touch immediately has on you.

“Desperate little thing,” he grins and adds a playful slap to your backside before pecking your lips again and leading you towards the waiting car.

He slips in beside you, his hand immediately finding your thigh again and gently rubbing against the bare skin, creeping below your skirt’s hem again and again as you take off in the direction of the airport.

You’re falling into your familiar routine with him, the first effects of seeing him and the flare of your chemistry with each other calming down a little and allowing you to actually talk with him like a normal person, not a lovesick teenager. You’re filling each other in on the few weeks since you last saw each other, the little occurrences that you wanted to tell him about but didn’t have the opportunity to at the time. He’s not much of a texter and you understand that; he’s busy with his job and his family whose existence you still need to keep reminding yourself of.

His large hand doesn’t leave your thigh once throughout the drive, keeping a hold on you that feels especially possessive whenever his grip tightens. At the airport he grabs both of your suitcases and purposefully strides off, leaving you to walk beside him with nothing but your little purse. It’s not a grand gesture by any means, but still, no one has ever taken care of things for you like this and your want for him is bubbling inside of you.

He drops your baggage off at check-in and hands you your boarding pass. You can’t help the squeal that you let out when your eyes find the destination and you excitedly throw your arms around him.

“Are you serious? How did you know that I always wanted- But Dave, that’s SO much, I can’t have you pay for all this, I-“

He shushes you gently, though you can tell that he’s clearly pleased with how happy you are about where you’re going. He presses a kiss to the crown of your hand and rubs his hands over your shoulders.

“Of course you can. I wanted to do something nice for you, sweetheart, you’ve been so stressed out lately. And I-,” he trails off, looking almost a little bashful, “I wanted to spend my time off with you, without interruptions, you know.”

You think that he wants to add more, but he doesn’t, his expression slightly regretful like he accidentally said too much already. He barely verbalizes his feelings and you don’t push it.

“Thank you Dave, it’s- thank you. I really appreciate it.”

You lean up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly, trying to convey what you feel but can’t put into words. How you’re not even there yet and it’s already more than anyone has ever done for you. How ‘I wanted to spend my time off with you’ has butterflies erupting in your stomach, no matter how hard you try to suppress them. How it has you wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might be more for him than just the girl that he’s fucking on the side because his marriage is shitty. How much you wish that you were.

But you don’t have time to ponder all this because he possessively wraps an arm around your shoulder and leads you off towards security control, then to the gate where he gets you your favorite Starbucks without even asking for your order, and onto the plane, where he lets you have the window seat and his hand finds its way back onto your thigh.

You brought a book to read on the flight but you can’t make it through one page without losing your focus. Dave’s hand keeps climbing higher and higher, alternating between gripping your inner thigh tightly and drawing featherlight circles on the soft skin, and the heat that had been smoldering within you since you first laid eyes on him today is slowly but steadily becoming too much to bear.

Dave seems annoyingly unaffected, his face as composed as ever as he asks questions about your book, and you know that he notices the way you’re squirming in your seat, and how much he’s enjoying the fact that he’s the one to make you act like this.

You’re in the middle of a sentence when his fingers suddenly move all the way up your thigh and brush lightly against the fabric of your underwear. It’s a barely-there touch, but you’re so wound up that it’s enough to cause you to interrupt yourself with a loud gasp. He retracts his hand the tiniest bit, still hovering between your thighs, and tuts at you.

There’s a dark glint in his eyes that hasn’t been there moments before. You know this look and it takes everything in you to not clench your thighs together in anticipation of what’s to come. He raises an eyebrow, the condescension written clear on his face and his voice a low rumble, quiet enough for only you to hear.

“Shhh, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want everyone on here to know how much of a slut you are for me, now would we? Huh?”

He pinches the soft flesh on your inner thigh roughly when you don’t answer fast enough and you bite your lip, suppressing the whine that is threatening to come out of you.

“N-no…” you whisper and Dave arches his eyebrow even higher, looking at you expectantly. You gulp.

“No, sir.”

A small smile plays around his lips and he places a kiss on your cheek. ��Good girl,” he mutters and his hand creeps up again until he’s rubbing against your panties, which you know are absolutely soaked by now. Your hips chase his touch and he chuckles darkly as he withdraws his fingers, completely this time, until he’s holding them up to your face. You can tell that the fingertips are shiny with the arousal that leaked through the fabric and you feel yourself blushing.

“Lick it off,” he demands, and your eyes widen.

“H-here?” you dare to ask. His gaze hardens.

“You wanna talk back to me?” His voice is calm, but you can sense the tension that’s rolling off of him. You should be disgusted, both by his request and the way that he’s talking to you, but you’re not. This is how you want him, how you crave him.

You shake your head hastily, acutely aware that questioning him was probably enough to get you into serious trouble later on. The thought sends another wave of desperate arousal through you.

“Then lick. It. Off. I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His tone is clipped, his face a hard mask, but your eyes flick down momentarily and the growing bulge in his pants tells you that he’s not as unaffected by the situation as he wants you to believe. You train your eyes back to his face and hold his gaze as you lean forward and obediently clean his fingers with tiny kitten licks. His jaw tenses as he finally draws his fingers back from your tongue and runs them across your cheek, smearing the traces of your spit there.

A small whine slips out of your throat as you feel fresh wetness flooding your panties and he grins before he kisses you again, murmuring a “Good girl” against your lips. He leans back into his seat, his hand finding an almost innocent position close to your knee.

“Why don’t you read a little more, sweetheart? We’ll be there soon.”

He flashes you a smile that could pass as genuine but you catch the glint in his eyes as he clocks your dazed expression and your slightly parted lips. You nod dumbly and pick the book back up, but not a single word that you read actively registers in your mind.

You try catching glances at Dave, until by the fourth time, he pinches your chin between his fingers and turns your head back forward. “I said, read,” he murmurs into your ear. You know he gets off on this stuff, giving you stupid little orders. And on the fact that you let him. That you get off on it, too.

Your arrival happens in a blur. Dave leads you off the plane and through the smallest airport you’ve ever been to. Your brain is still a bit muddled from the unsatisfied arousal he’s ignited in you and now you’re excitedly turning your head left and right, trying to get in as many impressions as you possibly can. You’re not paying close attention to what’s happening and you’re thankful for the way Dave is taking charge without question. You’re happy to link you fingers through his and let him lead you wherever you need to go.

He retrieves your luggage, walks you out of the airport and to a waiting car. You spend the drive staring out of the window, your eyes wide, taking in all the beauty around you. It’s like you’ve arrived in literal paradise. You tell Dave as much and he chuckles, lifting your hand up to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles. The unexpectedly sweet gesture has you blushing and a soft smile plays around his lips.

The hotel is, quite frankly, insane. If you had been worried about the amount of money that he’s spent on this trip before, it pales in comparison to how you’re feeling now. The building is nestled against the foot of a mountain, lush green trees surrounding the front and the road leading up to the entrance, while it opens up to a small, private bay where turquoise waves calmly roll up against the whitest sand you’ve ever seen.

There’s glass walls everywhere, giving you an almost 360° view as you step into the lobby. You know that you’re gaping and Dave actually laughs at your expression as he walks you up to the reception desk to check in. You’re not listening closely, too busy taking in your surroundings and convincing yourself that this is your real life and not some extremely realistic daydream that you’re having while sitting at your work desk.

Dave finishes up and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you to the elevators, stepping inside and pressing the top button. The doors slide closed and you can barely think about the fact that you’re apparently staying on the top floor before you’re being whirled around and end up with your front pressed against the elevator wall with Dave’s hands roughly shoving up your skirt until your ass is exposed to him.

Your surprised giggle morphs into a moan as his hand comes down hard to slap it, before gripping the flesh so roughly that it borders on painful. He presses his body up against yours and captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as his other hand slides up to cup your breasts over your tank top.

“Dave- we can’t-,” you gasp just as the elevator comes to a halt and dings. He growls and flicks your skirt back down, but keeps you pressed against his side as the doors slide open again. Thankfully there’s no other people around on this floor to witness your surely utterly disheveled state.

The dark glint is back in his eyes as he drags you along to your room number. He stops in front of the door and turns you towards him, his eyes trained on your face as he stares you down. His voice is low, his tone calm and controlled, but somehow it’s more threatening than if he shouted at you.

“You think you get to tell me what we can and can’t do? You think that’s for you to decide?” His hand grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and you whimper.

“N-no sir, I’m sorry, I just thought-“ He slaps your cheek, not hard enough for it to hurt, but enough to shut you up. Enough to remind you of your place in this dynamic. Your eyes flicker around hastily, your mind acutely aware of the fact that you’re in a public setting and that someone could walk in on this at any time. His hold returns your face, forcing you to look at him again.

“You don’t think, sweetheart. I decide and you listen, isn’t that right? If I want you to show off that slutty little ass of yours for everyone to see, then that’s what you’ll do.”

You nod to your best ability with his hand still grasping your face, mumbling another, “I’m sorry, sir.” You can barely think, the heat between your thighs almost making your legs buckle at this point. His thumb moves to play with your bottom lip and a cruel smirk grows on his face.

“You will be, doll. This is the third time you’ve disrespected me today. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help the way you subconsciously bite your lip and you know that your desire is written all over your face, your pupils probably blown wide and your cheeks hot.

“Christ,” he chuckles and seals your lips with another kiss, “you’re a fucked up little thing.” You can only nod, prompting another laugh from him.

He steps up beside you and digs a keycard out of his pocket, holding it up against the door that responds with an affirmative beeping sound and a lock clicking. He pushes the handle down and swings the door open, holding it for you, a hand on the small of your back as you tentatively take a few steps inside.

The gasp you let out now isn’t fueled by your arousal, which is momentarily forgotten, but by your utter inability to believe what you’re seeing. You’re standing in a small hallway which opens up into a gigantic living room that’s probably bigger than your entire apartment and completely lined with glass walls, revealing a balcony and the shimmering sea several floors below you. You slowly walk to the adjoining bedroom that houses the easily biggest bed you’ve ever seen and a continuation of the glass walls. From what you can see, the en-suite bathroom features a lot of white marble.

You turn back to Dave, who has followed you silently and seems to expectantly take in your every reaction. “You’re crazy,” you tell him and he grins as you struggle for words. “This is- it’s so expensive, it’s- it’s too much, really. You’re crazy,” you repeat and he walks up to you to take your hands. His thumbs rub little circles over the skin and he smiles softly.

“As I said, I wanted to do something nice for you. You deserve it, sweetheart, you do.”

“But- but it’s-,” you trail off, mortified to realize that your bottom lip is trembling and your eyes are getting wet. You’re not going to cry in front of Dave, not because of a stupid hotel room. More like a fucking suite, your brain unhelpfully provides and your lip trembles harder. Dave quickly wraps his arms around your shoulders, his eyes searching your face.

“But it’s what?” he implores, his features displaying a look of such genuine concern that you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen on him before. “Sweetheart, do you not like it?”

You shake your head, trying to think of some way to explain that doesn’t make you seem totally pathetic. “It’s-,” you draw a deep breath, “it’s just- this is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Like, ever. I just can’t believe you would- for me…” You trail off, not sure how to explain that you can’t grasp why he would be willing to spend this amount of money on you. “What I mean to say is, it’s beautiful. Just- thank you. Really, thank you.”

You smile at him and the relief is incredibly evident on his face before he pulls you into a hug, his arms engulfing you, one hand stroking you head softly. For once, his hands don’t wander down your body, he just holds you tight and you allow yourself to think that you could get used to this.

You feel awkward after your little breakdown, but Dave doesn’t mention it again. He lets you traipse around the suite to explore and unpack and follows you when you step out onto the balcony where you inhale deeply, enjoying the salty air and the view down to the bay. You think that it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen in your life and you flash a beaming smile at him.

“You like it?” he checks again and you nod eagerly. “Good,” he mumbles and steps up behind where you’re leaning against the railing, one of his arms finding its way around your middle and his head resting on your shoulder. “That’s good.”

You stay like that a little while, taking in the scenery in front of you in peaceful silence, listening to the sound of the waves that roll against the shore and watching as the sun is sinking lower, a soft golden light spreading out across the sky and reflecting in the water.

Eventually, one of his hands slowly starts gliding up your torso. He cups your breast and his fingers graze your quickly pebbling nipple. You moan quietly and instinctually push your hips back against his crotch and the growing hardness there, which causes him to chuckle as he bends down to run his lips over your neck, leaving small kisses and bites on the sensitive flesh.

You’ve been riled up and let back down so many times today that you feel a bit crazed at this point, the need for him between your legs downright painful as you grind your hips against him and another desperate moan escapes you. “Dave, please… I need you.” Your head falls back against his chest and his other arm loops around your middle, pressing you against him as he tuts softly.

“So needy that you’re forgetting all your manners, huh?”

He pinches your nipple, hard, before his hand sneaks higher and loosely wraps around your throat. The anticipation of what is -hopefully- finally about to happen has you feeling lightheaded. You don’t care that you’re outside, that anyone could look up and easily spot you on the balcony, you would let him fuck you right there, as long as he just finally fucks you at all. You haven’t given him an answer and the hold around you throat tightens. Not enough for any real pressure, but enough to remind you of the power he holds over you.

“Please, sir,” you whine and he chuckles again.

“Not yet, doll,” he whispers into your ear and his hand leaves your throat, then he turns you around until you’re face to face. You can see that he wants you too, it’s written on his features clear as day, and you can barely fathom his level of self-restraint right now. You open your mouth, ready to beg again, ready to beg for anything to relieve the throbbing pain between your thighs, but he shakes his head curtly and even in your lust-filled haze, you know better than to keep going and shut your mouth again.

He grins at your obedience and gives your lips a quick kiss. “Good girl. You’ll get everything you want soon enough, don’t worry. Just gotta be patient a little more, okay?” You nod, and dazedly let him take your hand and lead you back into the bedroom. “But first, we’re gonna have a nice dinner. Think you’re gonna need the energy, doll.” His grin turns downright feral and a small shudder runs through you. “Show me what pretty things you packed, yeah?”

You hum your agreement and turn to rummage through the closet, pick out a dress and fresh underwear and wander off into the bathroom. You half-expect him to stop you and make you change in front of him, but he doesn’t say a word. Maybe seeing you naked would be even too much for his restraint right now.

You change into the dress; it’s one of the new ones that you bought only last week while daydreaming about how Dave would take it off of you. It’s a short silk dress, dark red and with an open back that basically only consists of a several straps that form a loose pattern over your skin, which is why you forego a bra and only pull on a black thong, a lacy, barely there scrap of fabric. You also redo your makeup, adding a lipstick in a shade that matches the dress and freshen up your hair, then step out into the bedroom again.

Dave is still wearing the black slacks that he wore all day, but seems to have changed into a new, creamy white dress shirt, while you were busy in the bathroom. The top three buttons are open, which is one more than usual, exposing more of his broad chest than you’re used to and you know that you’re wearing an expression of awe on your face. He’s so beautiful. He always is, he’s stupidly attractive, really, but it’s hitting you especially hard right now, in these new surroundings and with the prospect of having him all to yourself for one whole week.

He’s eyeing you as well, his gaze roaming hungrily over your body. You become acutely aware of just how short the dress is, how much of your naked skin is on display. You like your body, and you’re not ashamed of showing it off, but this place is fancy. You know you look good, but suddenly, you feel a bit awkward. “Is- is this okay? Because, I-,” you stammer a little, “I didn’t expect this kind of hotel and you said- you said you wanted slutty, so…” You trail off, biting you lip nervously.

Dave’s gaze softens. It’s giving you whiplash, how quickly he switches between the domineering, controlled, sexually charged persona that he’s displaying around you most of the time, and this sweeter, caring side. The side that wants to do something nice for you. He takes a step towards you.

“Turn around for me, sweetheart.”

You do, giving him a little twirl before turning back around and meeting his gaze. He looks… you don’t know how to describe it. The hunger for you that you’re familiar with is there, but it’s also something else, something… more. “You look perfect,” he assures you and you can’t help but believe him. Then he continues, “take off your underwear.” You blink at him and he cocks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want any panty lines when you’re looking so gorgeous with that pretty dress.”

You know fully well that the tiny thong that you’re wearing isn’t leaving any panty lines, but you also know better than to argue. The thought of having nothing to protect your modesty under the very short hem of your dress makes you feel exposed, a little uneasy, which is probably exactly what he wants. Always testing your limits, always looking to see how far he can push you, how far you’d go to please him.

You slide your thong off and make to toss it in the direction of your suitcase, but he clicks his tongue and holds his hand out towards you. You put it into his waiting hand and he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants. You suppose that he’s planning something and that you’ll get to know about it when he wants you to, which isn’t now, so you keep your mouth shut and step closer to him. “Dinner?” you ask softly and lean on your tiptoes to kiss him. He returns the kiss, his tongue entering your mouth swiftly, giving you a taste of how much he wants you, before he pulls back and grabs your hand instead, leading you out of the suite and back to the elevator.

It’s just the two of you when you get on, but two floors down, you’re being joined by an elderly couple who you greet politely. As soon as their backs are turned to you, Dave’s hand is under your dress, running a finger through your slick folds. You manage to swallow your surprised gasp, but flinch slightly, and you see him smirk out of the corner of your eye. He slides his finger up and down your slit, brushing your already oversensitive clit a few times, and you bite down hard on your lip to keep the sounds inside that threaten to spill out of you.

When the elevator finally stops, he withdraws his hand and waits until the couple is a few steps away from you, until he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Good girl, learned your lesson I see. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” you breathe, your legs a bit wobbly and your arousal already leaking out of you.

“That’s right.” He pats your ass in a sort of condescending appreciation and you follow him into the dining area.

The hotel’s restaurant is located on the first floor, a beautiful, light-filled space that opens onto a big terrace which seems to float over the ocean and gives you a gorgeous view of the sunset’s colors that have become even more intense since you left your room. You’re being led to a small table for two and you gape at the view, causing Dave to laugh at you again, but it’s a warm laugh, that feels like he’s genuinely happy about how much you’re enjoying yourself.

You try reading through the menu, but you know maybe half of the things that are on there, much less how anything tastes or what you would prefer. You shoot Dave a sort of helpless look and he grins. “Want me to order for you?” he asks and you nod gratefully, trying not to feel embarrassed about how out of your depth you are. He orders something, along with a bottle of red wine, which you very much appreciate. You don’t know much about wine, but this one tastes really good. It turns out that he ordered some kind of fish for you, that you still have no idea how to pronounce right, but now you know that it’s freaking delicious. You tell Dave as much and he gives you another smile that seems much too soft and overwhelmingly right at the same time.

Dinner with him is much easier than you had anticipated. Apart from your excitement about the whole trip, you had been a little nervous about spending an entire week with him, having to make much more conversation than you usually do. It’s not that you never talk, but sooner or later, you end up naked with him whispering filth into your ear. You don’t go out on hour long dates, maybe a drink at a bar, but no big dinners and extensive talks. Until now.

Now you know that he’s a great listener, making you feel heard and understood, never once giving you the impression that you’re boring him. You also learn more about him, about his past, though he stays vague about his current job and the situation with his family. But it’s nice, being with him like this. Another thing that you could get used to, but that’s also another thought to shove into some far away corner of your mind. Be thankful for what it is, don’t become greedy for more, you tell yourself.

After two glasses of wine and a dessert that you could have died for, watching the sun set over the ocean until the night sky took over, you’re buzzing with happiness, but also excitement for the next part of the evening. The whole dinner was better than you could have imagined, but you have also been turned on for hours, with the man that you want right in front of you. When Dave finally stands up and pulls your chair out for you, you all but jump up and flit to his side. He chuckles and looks at your eager face. “Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. Tonight isn’t gonna be all that fun for you.”

The dark glint in his eyes is back and you’re subconsciously clenching your thighs together. The simple thought of what he might do to you is enough to push the arousal that has been simmering inside of you to the forefront of your mind again. You’re amazed how quickly he can sink back into that domineering character that could make you do almost anything with a simple snap of his fingers. He wasn’t like that at dinner, he didn’t once give you the impression that you’re below him or that he doesn’t respect you, separating this sexual dynamic that you’ve established from other parts of your interactions with clean precision.

He leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers grazing the bare skin on your back and you’re once again reminded that you’re completely bare beneath the skimpy dress that you’re wearing. His hand dips lower, playing with the hem that feels like it’s barely covering your ass. Goosebumps are forming on you lower back and your thighs and he chuckles darkly.

He keeps playing with your dress during the elevator ride, his fingers sliding underneath and grazing your ass repeatedly, until you’re fully riled up again. You’re a little nervous now. He promised to be rough several times today and you don’t doubt that he will. You’re excited as well, you want him rough, crave his control over you, but still…

He takes out the key card and opens the door as you follow him quietly, waiting for instructions. You can feel the tension rolling off of him. As soon as the door clicks shut, he’s on you, crowding you back against it, his hands grabbing your wrists and pulling them up above your head while he leans down to capture your waiting lips.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongues as he devours your mouth, towering over you and keeping your wrists fixed to the door while his whole body is pressing into yours. You arch into him, helplessly trying to get him closer as you moan into his mouth when he bites at your lower lip, keeping it in between his teeth as he pulls back a little before letting it go. You whine, the quick stab of pain transforming into pleasure and traveling straight to your pussy, which causes you to spread your legs wider and grind your hips against him.

He gathers both your wrists in his large hand, still pressing them against the wall above your head, and lets his other hand roam over your body, grabbing at your waist, bunching up the dress there. “Looked so good tonight, all dolled up in your pretty dress…” he murmurs with his lips now dragging against the soft skin of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking at the skin, “and all this just for me, sweetheart?” He bites down right below your ear and your hips buck against him.

“Yes, yes sir, fuck…”

Your breath catches in your throat when he abruptly pulls the neckline down to expose your breasts and scratches his fingernails over your nipples. He pinches one hardened bud between his nails and pulls slightly before he lets go and watches how the flesh bounces back, then he repeats the motion on the other side. You’re gasping, tears are welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but it hurts so good, your pussy is completely soaked and you just want him to finally, finally fill you up.

Then he steps back, his jaw flickers as he watches you, still pressed against the door, panting softly and with a dazed expression on your face.

“Get on your knees.”

You get down immediately, hoping against hope that maybe he’ll let you come sooner when you’re being good now. He allows himself a cold smile at your eagerness and steps closer until you have to crane your neck to look up at him. He opens his belt and slacks in sure, controlled movements, the only evidence of his own need for you being the massive bulge that’s right in front of your face. He doesn’t waste time, shoving his pants and underwear down in one move and letting his cock spring free.

You gasp quietly, your mouth opening on its own accord at the sight of his massive length and you look up at him hungrily. “Open wide,” he tells you softly, almost gently and you obey, sticking your tongue out and watching mesmerized as he lets his tip rest on your tongue for a few moments. He pulls back slightly, smearing a mix of your saliva and his pre-cum across your cheeks, then slapping you with his cock, which causes you to moan. “Filthy little thing,” he murmurs and sinks into your wet mouth in one hard thrust.

You gag almost immediately, your throat contracting around him and he groans as he grabs your head and holds you still. Tears well up in your eyes and you already feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. He finally lets go and you desperately suck in a lungful of air before he starts thrusting into your mouth again, hitting the back of your throat every time and causing you to choke around him. The way he pushes you around, uses you for his own pleasure has a new rush of wetness flooding your pussy and you’re itching to touch your clit, just a little bit.

He notices how you’re squirming beneath him, how one of your hands is inching closer between your legs and he stops his thrusts, his cock still taking up most of your mouth, and looks down at your face.

“You wanna touch yourself? You like having your face fucked like a whore?”

You nod as best as you can and hum desperately, gazing up at him through your tear-soaked lashes. He furrows his brow, looking down at you with that wicked glint in his eye. “You know how to ask properly, I didn’t hear you sweetheart,” he tells you, sinking even deeper into your throat and you fight to suppress another gag. You hum again and look at him pleadingly; he’s well aware that you can’t ask him anything with his cock filling your throat like this. “Guess you don’t want to, then,” he shrugs, “hands behind your back. You’re not touching that pussy without my permission.” You whine, your clit throbbing painfully for attention, but you obediently cross your wrists at the small of your back.

“Poor thing,” he coos and pats your head in mock-sympathy, then moves his hand back to hold you in place as he pounds into your throat with renewed force. You gag around him, tears flowing all over your face and drool streaming down your chin and onto your tits. He sinks into you again and again, holding you up by your head and making you sputter around him, desperate to somehow draw air into your lungs. “Take it,” he growls, “take it like the little slut you are, down on the floor for me. That’s how you like it, don’t you?” He finally pulls out of you and slaps your cheek when you don’t respond immediately. “Don’t you?!”

“Y-yes sir,” you rasp, gasping for breath, tears and spit still all over your face.

He crouches down cups the cheek that he just slapped, his thumb rubbing at the tear-stained skin under your eye. You’re positive that you look a mess, mascara running down your cheeks and your dark lipstick smeared all around your mouth, mixing with your spit. Your hands are still behind your back, the arch in your body making you push your chest out and putting your tits on full display for him. He starts toying with your nipples again and you want to cry. An orgasm feels so close, yet so far away. You feel like you could come with just a few strokes on your clit, but you have no idea how much longer he will string you along until he finally deems it enough.

“You’ve been such a good girl, sweetheart. So patient all day, I bet you’re dripping all down those pretty legs right now, aren’t you? So desperate and ready for me, yeah?” His voice is a low growl in front of you and you whine your agreement. It’s not enough for him. “Say it. Tell me how desperate my little slut is to finally get fucked.”

You hesitate, your eyes dropping to the ground in front of you. “I-,” you gasp as he roughly grabs your chin and forces you to look at him, waiting for you to do as he said. “I need you to fuck me, so badly. I’ll be so good, I promise, just p-please, sir,” you whine, feeling pathetic, your voice trembling and your face burning. No matter how many depraved things he gets you to do with him, for him, talking like this still gets you embarrassed. Which is precisely why he makes you do it.

“And what are you?”

You feel your face heating up. “Your s-slut, sir.”

He grins as he adds another slap against your cheek. “Damn right you are.”

He straightens back up, tugs himself back into his pants and looks down at you. “Bedroom.” You scramble to get up, but he shakes his head and lands a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down again. “No, no. You’re gonna crawl.” You sink back on your hands and knees, the amount of embarrassment and arousal that you’re feeling making you dizzy, and you look up at him shyly.

He nods approvingly and bends down to tug your dress up higher until your bare ass and pussy are on full display. “Good girl, right where you belong. Off you go, come on.” You bite your lip and start crawling towards the bedroom, his footsteps right behind you and you can feel his eyes drinking you in as another groan grumbles in his chest.

You stop in front of the bed and give him a questioning look. He gestures for you to stand up and you get back to your feet with trembling knees. He steps closer, his hands ghosting over your shoulders and toying with the straps of your dress.

“Such a pretty dress,” he murmurs as he slides them off your shoulders, the garment slipping down your body, leaving you bare except for the heels that you’ve been wearing all evening. You’re painfully aware of the power dynamic between you, how you’re completely naked and at his mercy while he’s still fully dressed. His hands roam over you, leaving goosebumps in their wake and come to rest at your hips. He squeezes the flesh there, then turns you around until you’re facing the bed.

One hand reaches up to your neck and he bends you over until your upper body is resting on the mattress, your back arching and your ass up in the air for him. He takes a step back and lands a slap on your backside without warning. You yelp, your body instinctively lurching forward and your legs shaking with the strain of keeping your balance in your heels. He notices, of course, and says, “You better keep those pretty legs steady, doll,” before reaching forward and massaging your stinging flesh. You hum, trying to get your muscles to cooperate, but your legs won’t stop trembling.

Dave’s touch leaves your body and he sits down on the bed beside your head, his eyes searching your face. “What’s your color, sweetheart?” he inquires, softly stroking your cheek.

“Green,” you answer without hesitation. It has already been a lot and you’re sure that he’s nowhere near finished with you, but you like it like this. You crave it. He nods, his touch still gentle on your face.

“And what do you say when you need me to stop?”

“Red,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“Good girl,” he murmurs and leans forward to press a kiss to your cheek, before he stands up again and disappears from your field of view.

“So,” his voice drawls from behind you, “I think I’ll give you twenty-five tonight, how’s that sound, sweetheart?” You gulp, but know that there’s only one acceptable answer.

“S-sounds good, sir. Thank you,” you breathe, the apprehension clear in your voice, and he laughs quietly.

“And what did you do to deserve this?”

You bite your lip again, struggling to think through the fog of arousal clearly enough to give him an answer that he’ll be satisfied with. “I d-didn’t listen and talked- talked back at you, and…” you trail off when his hand dips between your legs, swirling through the wetness there before retreating again. You inhale sharply and continue, “…and that was disrespectful. I’m sorry, sir, it won’t- it won’t happen again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Dave mumbles and his fingertips ghost over your lower back. “But that was a nice little speech, sweetheart. Starting now, you’re gonna count them out for me, yeah? Lose count and we’ll start over.” You nod and your hands grip the sheets as you try bracing yourself.

The first slap meets your flesh, not as hard as you know he can go, but hard enough to get a small scream out of you. “One,” you force yourself to say and he hums appreciatively, before landing the second slap exactly on the same spot as the first one. “T-two,” you whine, his handprint searing on your skin.

You make it until eleven before your legs give out, your trembling muscles collapsing under the task of keeping you upright in your heels while your body is scrambling to get away from the oncoming assault on your ass cheeks. You fall forward, your knees hitting the mattress right after Dave’s hand connected with your backside again. “Twelve, I’m sorry, sir,” you choke out.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, stepping closer and running his hands soothingly over your back as he searches your face, a look of soft concern on his face. “What’s your color, doll?”

“Green. Still- still green, sir,” you breathe out and you mean it. You feel like you’re on fire, but in the best way.

“Yeah?” he questions, “want me to continue?” and you nod your head eagerly. The concern washes away from his face, his jaw tensing and his eyes growing cold again. “Fucking masochistic little slut,” he growls and you moan, your walls desperately clenching around nothing.

He lets you stay with your knees on the bed, your ass still up high for him, until you’ve finally reached “twenty-five, t-thank you, sir.” You’re sobbing at this point, your skin feels raw where he hit you, but you’re also damn near delirious with want for him.

Dave strokes your skin gently, telling you what a good girl you’ve been and how proud he is of you, and you bask in his praise. Then his hand travels lower, slipping between your thighs until his fingers are running through your folds, feeling how soaked exactly his rough treatment has left you. “Fuck doll, you’re dripping. You really liked that, huh?” he murmurs as he pushes two of his thick fingers into you, sliding in easily and making you moan loudly.

He thrusts into your tight heat roughly, causing you to arch your back and spread your legs wider, your release so close that you can almost taste it. He keeps going until he feels you growing tighter, starting to clench around his fingers, and slides them out of you abruptly. You sob, feeling your orgasm subside again.

“I think you were about to come without permission, sweetheart. You just promised me you’d be good, didn’t you? Guess your greedy little cunt just can’t help herself, huh?”

You whimper an apology and receive another slap to your abused skin, causing you to jerk forward. “No doll, you stay right here. Give me your hands,” Dave’s stern voice orders from behind you. You let him take hold of your wrists, leaving you completely at his mercy in the position that you’re in, and he digs your panties out of his pants pocket, looping them around your wrists until they’re tightly secured.

When he’s satisfied with his work, you finally hear the rustling of him taking off his clothes. Without warning, you feel him swipe the head of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing you with the tip, grazing your clit and causing you to gasp, then sliding back until he’s prodding at your entrance. You whine loudly and try pushing your hips backwards, but his hold tightens around you, keeping you in position.

“Not so fast. Be a good girl and beg for it,” he requests, in a voice that still sounds so controlled, while you feel like you’re barely able to form words anymore. You’re not embarrassed anymore, the promise of his cock so close to where you want him wiping all inhibitions from your mind.

“Please sir, I need you so badly, please fuck me, I’ll do anything, just please…”

You feel pathetic begging like this, but you couldn’t care less. Dave lets out a strained groan behind you, and then he’s pushing into you in one strong thrust. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve taken him or how wet you are, his size always stings at the first intrusion and you wail, your body being pushed forward by his movement and he grips your bound wrists, holding you steady as he starts pounding into you.

“So fucking tight and wet you little slut, fuck you take me so good, being such a good girl, fuck…” Now his voice sounds wrecked behind you and you moan loudly at his words and at the way he’s splitting you open. This is what you had been craving for hours, the feeling of him thrusting into you again and again, and you push your hips back to meet his thrusts, to get him even deeper.

One of his hands grips your hair and pulls, forcing you to arch your back even more and slightly shifting the angle where he’s pounding into you, hitting something so delicious inside of you that you almost come on the spot, your walls already fluttering around him, but you’re not allowed, your scrambled brain reminds you, you need…

“Please sir, I’m gonna come, can I please…” Your voice breaks off into a sob when his movements slow down and he pulls out of you, pushing you forward until you’re laying flat on the bed, and he starts working on releasing your bound wrists.

“Good girl, asking for permission,” he praises, “but you’re gonna look me in the face when I make you come tonight.”

He frees your wrists and turns you around so that you’re on your back, looking up at him through teary eyes, desperate for your release. “Poor thing,” he coos as he gets between your legs, placing his large hands on your thighs and spreading them wide. His cock nudges at your entrance but he doesn’t sink back into you, his gaze trained on your face and his hand wandering up to play with your bottom lip.

“Open wide,” he tells you and you obey, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out. His breath has turned heavy by now and he hovers over you, hungry eyes roaming over your face, your open mouth and your wet eyes. He draws back the tiniest bit, then he spits into your mouth, his saliva coating your tongue and you whine, the filth of the whole situation making your pussy clench once more.

“Keep it open, show me.”

You hold still, your mouth wide open, feeling his spit mixing with yours as you stare up at him, waiting for his next command. “Now swallow,” he finally says and you do, showing him your empty mouth afterwards and he grins. “Fuck, you’re such an obedient slut, being such a good girl for me. You’d do anything right now, wouldn’t you? Fucked all the thoughts out of that pretty little head, yeah?”

“Yes, anything,” you whimper, and he sinks his cock back into you without preamble. Your eyes widen at the sensation of being full again and the new angle, moans of his name falling from your mouth and you wrap your legs around him, grasping at his wide shoulders to hold onto something as he starts pounding into you again with raw strength.

One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing until you feel light-headed, intensifying the feeling of his deep thrusts into you. Pleading whispers leave your lips, but you don’t even know what you’re begging for anymore, if you want more, if you want him to stop.

His movements speed up even more, hitting spots inside of you that have you moaning and squirming underneath him and the hand on your throat travels down to your breasts, toying with your nipples, pinching and pulling and sending delicious waves of pain through you.

You’re so close again, when his hand slides down to rub at your clit, making you scream and throw your head back, your eyes pinched close. He grabs at your face and forces you to look at him.

“Oh no, you’re gonna look me in the eyes when I make you come, are you gonna come sweetheart?”, he growls. You whine and nod desperately, your eyes shining with tears. “Go ahead then, come for me, squeeze my cock like the good little whore you are.”

He swirls his thumb over your neglected clit once more, gives you a particularly hard thrust and your vision swims, your whole body tensing up before you bear down on him and fall apart. You’re clenching rhythmically around his cock as the orgasm tears through your body in pulsing waves and you’re pulling him over the edge with you as he climaxes with a deep moan, spilling his release inside of you.

You’re a trembling mess, your breath stuttering and your mind still caught up in a blissful haze, and you’re only vaguely aware of him collapsing beside you, but you register the tender kiss that he presses to your cheek before he gets up and retreats to the bathroom.

The next thing you feel is the bed dipping as he sits down beside you again and you slowly blink your eyes open. Maybe it’s the post-orgasmic bliss that you’re still lost in, but you think to yourself that he looks especially beautiful right now, his face relaxed with a small smile playing around his mouth, where the stubble of his beard is showing through at the end of the day, and with his brown eyes warm again now as he looks at you.

“May I?” he asks and holds up a damp towel. You nod, returning his smile and watching as he brings the towel down between your legs, cleaning you up and soothing your hot skin. He gently turns you over and spreads some kind of healing balm over your burning cheeks, careful not to touch you too roughly. He also cleans your face, his soft touches almost enough to lull you to sleep.

When he’s finished, he maneuvers you around, causing you to giggle, until you’re in the middle of the bed and he can pull the covers over you, sliding in beside you and wrapping his arm around your middle. You shuffle closer until you’re securely tugged into his side, your breath fanning against his broad chest.

“You good?” he asks, looking down at you and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah,” you smile up at him and stretch to reach his mouth with your lips. He kisses you back, his hand coming up to play with your hair, and you smile even wider. As much as he likes to be rough with you, you think that what he actually needs, is the softness.

series masterlist

if you enjoyed reading this, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! <3

[wildemaven]

caught kissing santa | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 1586

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; established relationship/reader is married to Dave and stepmom to his kids, mentions of food and drinks, non-religious Christmas celebrations and Santa beliefs, alluding to sexy time but no smut, kissing, mentions reader is wearing pajama pants, fluff, soft Dave, one use of ‘good girl’.

-> note: this literally came to me this morning and i whipped it up during nap time. Not beta’d, so all mistakes and misspelling are my own fault!! -> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“So let me get this straight. You saw Santa last night. In the flesh. Just standing in our living room?” 

You hear Dave ask Alice to retell her story again from where you’re standing at the kitchen counter, pouring steamed milk into your coffee. Except this time, he encourages her to tell it at a slower pace  so you both could catch every word of it. 

“Yeah!! I was thirsty and wanted to get some water. So I got up to go downstairs, but when I got to the stairs I could see him in the living room.” Alice says, sitting across from Dave at the kitchen table where there’s a huge breakfast of pancakes, waffles and all the sweet toppings laid out. Her excitement is infectious. Her innocence is still palpable and going strong, as she states she saw Santa with her own eyes. 

“And what was he doing?” Dave encourages Alice to share more as he spoons several helpings of  mini chocolate chips onto his stack of pancakes with a hearty serving of peanut butter melting over the top. 

“Putting our presents under the tree.” Her words were muffled by a mouth full of sliced strawberries. 

“Hmm. I guess that makes sense. Where were you Molly, when all this excitement was going down?” Dave looks over to the youngest of his two girls, who’s been enjoying her own helping of pancakes with a mixture of berries and chocolate chips piled on top. 

“Sleeping.” You snicker into your cup at Molly’s blunt response. Her mild temperament was proof enough that the apple doesn’t fall far from the Dave York tree. 

You turn and lean against the kitchen counter, so you can watch the rest of their conversation unfold. 

It took some convincing to get Dave to go along with your idea of dressing up as the Jolly Man in Red this year. Knowing that Alice gets up every night to get herself a glass of water, it was the perfect set up for her to happen upon. Thankfully Dave folds easy to your convincing pleas and a good make out session on the couch late into the night seals the deal. 

Alice had come to you a few weeks ago about the matter. Asking about the validity of whether or not Santa was real. She had heard her friends talking about how they were getting too old to believe in such a silly thing and how it was their parents all along. You could sense the turmoil of her wanting to still believe in the idea of Santa, but also wanting to feel a part of her friend group who seem to be eagerly growing into their not quite pre-teen selves. 

As her stepmom, you didn’t feel like it was your place to have such a turning point conversation with her. Wanting to leave that for Dave and Carol to broach the topic with her if it were to come up again, supporting whatever their approach would be. You told Alice that Santa is real and he makes sure to bring a little holiday magic each year to everyone, no matter how old they are. Your answer seemed to satisfy her inquisitive mind and gave you an idea to give her a little extra Christmas gift in case this would be her last year believing in Saint Nick. 

“What was Santa doing?” Dave sits back into the chair to take in the rest of what Alice had to say. His arms crossed over his broad chest. Your attention is briefly drawn to the way his gray nightshirt pulls tight over his shoulders and back, then quickly refocusing back to Dave and the girls. 

“Putting all the presents under the tree. He had a big bag of them, too.” Her arms stretched out to give him an idea of how big the bag was. 

You smile at the way Dave is giving her his full attention. Never letting on that he was the one wearing the suit late into the night as he placed each present under the tree in the living room, while you watched him from where you sat under a blanket on the couch. Snapping a few photos of him as he really got into character with each gift. Pausing every so often, his hands on his waist, complaining how miserable and hot it would be to actually be Santa in the thick red suit and beard for an entire evening. He even warned that your gifts would be lost if you continued to laugh at his misery. 

Pushing off the counter, you join the three of them at the table. Settling into the open chair next to Dave, as you continue to sip from the warm coffee in your mug. 

“So did you say anything to him? Ask him if he brought you anything special this year?” You ask Alice. 

“No! I was worried I would scare him away and that he’d take our presents with him.” Her eyes widened as shakes her head no. It warms your heart hearing her response to this whole situation, the exact reaction you were hoping for. 

“Oh! I didn’t even think of that. We wouldn’t want him to take everything away that he brought for us.” You say looking over to Dave who’s smiling into his own cup of coffee. 

“He also seemed a little busy once he was done putting all the presents out. So I just went back to bed. Wanted to be surprised when I woke up this morning.” You’re confused by what she means when she said he was busy.

“Busy? How so?” You ask before taking another drink. 

“Well—“ She pauses and looks at Dave, as if to search for the right words before continuing, then back to you. “I saw something else before I went back to bed.” 

“What would that be?” Dave’s gaze shifts over to you momentarily when he inquires about what exactly Alice saw. Clearing his throat as he adjusts his position in the wooden chair and grabbing for his mug to keep his hands busy, his grip on it tightened and his knee bouncing at a steady pace. His fidgety movements are a telltale sign that he’s anxious— valid, given the way Alice has you all hanging by her every word at the moment. 

“I saw you kissing Santa under the mistletoe that’s hanging over the fireplace.” Alice looks you straight in the face when she says it. 

Dave nearly spits out the sip of coffee he had just taken. Coughing into his napkin as silence takes over the entire room. Molly halts her pancake devouring to stare at you with a shocked expression. 

“Oh! Umm, well—“ You fumble over your words. Sheer panic runs through your body as you try to come up with something quickly as to why Alice would have seen you kissing “Santa”. 

“Hey, girls look at what time it is. Your mom is going to be here in 20 minutes to pick you up. How about you go on upstairs to get your stuff together. Brush those sticky teeth and get dressed so you’re ready to go when she gets here.” The girls cheer in unison as they both hop off their chairs and run in the direction of the stairs that lead to their rooms. The bombshell revelation is long forgotten now. 

“Oh my god!” You let out a big sigh and slump down in your chair, your head turning to see Dave silently laughing to himself. “She’s going to ask me again why I was kissing him— but I think you bought me enough time until they’re back from Carol’s.” 

Dave reaches over and grabs your hand, pulling you from your chair and into his lap. Your arms drape around his shoulders, your temple resting against his forehead. His hand smooths over your pajama clad thighs, the other resting at your hip where he gives you a few gentle squeezes. 

“Thank you for doing that for her. She might not believe in him next year, but she’ll have this Christmas as a fun memory to tell her kids when they’re asking whether or not Santa is real.”

“Thankfully all she saw was the kissing— or she would have been scarred for life.” Dave says between the soft kisses he’s giving to your neck. 

“You’re the worst!” Playfully hitting his shoulder. 

“That’s not what you were saying when Santa was showering you with all those gifts last night.” His eyebrows waggle as he looks at you, rolling your eyes back at him. Your face heats up at remembering just how many gifts you were given.

“How about when the girls leave, you slip back into that red suit— forget the beard. And you can give me some more of those wonderful gifts.” You whisper, as if your suggestion might be heard by two sets of small ears. “I might be in the giving mood and have a few for you as well.”

“I don’t know. Have you been a good girl this year?” Dave asks in a low sensuous tone. 

“The best!” You manage to say before his hand is pulling your face to his, kissing you with earnestness. 

The sound of feet bounding down the stairs cuts the kiss short. Alice and Molly making their way back into the living room to pick up where they left off with their new toys. 

“Merry Christmas, Sweetheart.” Dave places the softest kiss to your lips. 

“Merry Christmas, Dave.”

[tangerinesilk]

－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other. 

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later. 

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.” 

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-” 

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up. 

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman. 

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…” 

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek. 

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you. 

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, ��What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head. 

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice. 

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted? 

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time. 

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass. 

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.” 

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.” 

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor. 

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure. 

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them. 

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock. 

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning. 

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw. 

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing. 

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

[sequinsmile-x]

Receiving & Giving Gifts

Five times the team witness Aaron & Emily's gift-giving skills, and one time they didn't.

The final part of my series of unrelated oneshots, each one dedicated to one of the five main Love Languages.

-x-

Hi friends,

Hope you are all okay!

This one massively got away from me, shock horror I know, and is based on an ask I got about a fic with the team point of view when Aaron and Emily buy each other things, with a focus on the fact Emily is rich af.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: pregnancy, a LOT of fluff

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Dave

Dave liked to pretend he knew they were together from the start.

Emily always called him out on it. She’d roll her eyes as she pressed herself closer to Aaron’s side, telling him that he was full of shit as she drank his expensive wine on pasta night. Dave knew Aaron didn’t believe him either, although he was more subtle in his attempts to let him know that, and he was fine with that.

If Dave was honest, he had no idea until Aaron and Emily told them. It made him look back at every moment he could think of over the previous eight months to see if there was anything he’d missed, any sign he’d overlooked. His friends were worryingly good at keeping secrets, something he’d already known about Emily once her past with Ian Doyle had come out, but it was news about Aaron. He’d always been private, always played his cards close to his chest, but Dave had always liked to think he could read him like a book. 

Even now, six months after Emily and Aaron had come clean about their relationship, it was strange to see them together sometimes. They were professional at work, called each other Hotch and Prentiss and kept their distance unless the other was hurt, but outside of work, things were different. They’d always be huddled together somewhere, sometimes lost in their own little world as they had a conversation no one else was privy to. They were soft with each other, tender in a way he wouldn’t believe if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. 

It was what they both deserved, the gentle life they both had earned after waging through fire to make it to the other side. 

He smiles as he watches them walk into the office together, how Emily knocks her shoulder against Aaron’s as they walk through the glass doors before they step apart from each other. They exchange a quick look, a soft smile that passes from his face to hers, and then they go their separate ways. - Emily towards their desk and Aaron towards the kitchenette where Dave is standing. 

“Morning,” Dave says, smiling behind his mug of coffee as he lifts it to take a sip. Aaron smiles at his friend and grabs two mugs and places them on the counter. 

“Morning,” he replies, reaching for the coffee pot and pouring it into the two mugs, “You’re in early.” 

“Thought I’d try and beat the traffic,” Dave says, watching his friend as he reaches for the box of Splenda packets, his sleeve shifting up just enough to expose his wrist and the new watch Dave had never seen before. Even at a glance, he knew it was expensive, that it was worth more than anything else he’d ever seen Aaron wear and his smile gets wider, “That’s a nice watch.”

Aaron smiles as he dumps two Splenda’s into Emily’s coffee, “Thanks. It’s from Emily,” he says, a look that always shone in his eyes when he spoke about his girlfriend briefly flashing through them, “She bought it for me because of what happened last week.” 

Dave nods in understanding. Aaron’s watch had been damaged in the takedown of the unsub in their most recent case, its glass face smashed against the floor as the guy made a run for it. Aaron had walked away without a scratch on him, which was something that Emily had made sure the EMTs confirmed before they left the scene. His smile turns into a smirk as he looks at the watch again. 

It was something he’d noticed almost as soon as they told everyone they were together. They bought each other gifts frequently. Aaron would bring Emily flowers. She’d buy his favourite dessert and they’d both pretend it was for her, Aaron’s denial of his sweet tooth long established, and they’d eat it together. They were always small things. Tokens of affection that reminded the other that they were there, that they loved each other. 

This was the first big purchase he’d seen, a rare show of Emily’s wealth that he couldn’t help but smile at. 

“Nice to have the finer things in life, huh?” 

Aaron frowns as he turns to look at him, “What do you mean?” 

“The watch,” Dave says, nodding towards it, “It’s got to be worth $10,000.” 

Aaron’s eyes go almost comically wide as he briefly looks over at his girlfriend, her focus on trying to get her computer working so she could start her day, and then he looks back at Dave, “It’s…it cost $10,000? That’s more than I spent on my first car. A lot more.” 

Dave chuckles and pats him on the shoulder, “Like I said, nice to have the finer things in life,” he says, winking at him, “It pays to have a girlfriend who’s rich.”

Aaron hums thoughtfully before he excuses himself, both coffees in hand as he walks back over towards Emily. Dave watches intently as they have a quiet discussion, Emily’s brow furrowing as she looks back and forth between Aaron and his watch, the flush to her cheeks obvious even from where Dave is standing. 

He finds it amusing until Aaron walks up to his office and Emily turns to look at Dave, her eyes narrowed as she glares at him across the room. He clears his throat and sips his coffee, hoping he’d be able to get through the day without her carrying out whatever revenge she was clearly already planning.

___

Penelope

To say she was delighted when Aaron asked for her help was an understatement. 

She’d actually had to cover her mouth to contain her squeal when he walked into her office, a nervous expression on his face that she’d never seen before, and asked for her help to buy an engagement ring for Emily. 

It’s how she finds herself in a jewellery store with him on a Saturday morning, her body almost vibrating with excitement as she looks in all of the cases, her eyes shifting from ring to ring as Aaron does the same. 

“Where does Peaches think you are today?” She asks as she looks up, suppressing a smile at the slightly bewildered look on his face as he stares at the rings in front of them.

“She thinks I’m with Dave,” he replies, a smile flashing across his face, “Something about helping him build furniture.”

Penelope chuckles, “Does he know about that?” 

Aaron nods as he looks back at the engagement rings in front of them, “He does,” he smiles, a rare smile she only ever saw on his face when he was thinking about Emily, “He’s still trying to get back into her good books after the incident with the watch.” 

She has to suppress a smile at that, pressing her lips together as she fights a laugh at the memory of Dave coming to her, furious and insisting that there was something wrong with the firewall because he was being inundated with marketing emails from companies he’d never heard of. It turned out Emily had signed him up for several different mailing lists to get him back for freaking Aaron out about the watch she’d bought him.

The emails were still occasionally coming through even all these weeks later, and Emily never failed to find amusement in it when Dave would groan in irritation. 

Penelope looks at the watch and smiles, “It’s a very nice watch,” she says, “And we have to get her a very nice ring.” 

He chuckles humorlessly, “Not $10,000 nice though,” he quips, “I don’t have that kind of money, and it wouldn’t feel right to buy a ring with her money.” 

She can see the insecurity that flashes across his face, a moment of vulnerability that was rare in itself but seems even more obvious in the casual clothes he’s wearing, the lack of his suit, something he always wore like armour, making it stand out. She sighs sympathetically and tilts her head as she looks up at him.

“Sir,” she starts, her cheeks going warm when he raises his eyebrow at her, something she knows is a silent reminder that she didn’t have to call him that, “Hotch,” she corrects herself, “Emily loves you. She’d love anything you gave her - even if it was one of those ring pops.” 

He chuckles and nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly as his gaze drifts back to the display case full of rings, “You’re right.” 

“I so often am,” she replies, smiling widely when he looks back at her, “Now,” she says, standing back at the case and looking at the rings with a level of concentration she usually only had at work, “As much as I am a fan of getting the flashiest diamond possible, we both know Emily would want something she could wear at work. So we need to pick something she can wear with gloves at a crime scene.” 

Aaron nods and blows out a slow breath, “It wasn’t this complicated last time.” 

She smiles sadly when she looks at him, “When you proposed to Haley?” 

“I used her mother’s ring,” he says, giving her a rare insight into his life. She doesn’t push, doesn’t ask any more questions in case he stops, she simply stands there and waits for him to carry on, “I was fresh out of college and broke and…she was close to her parents,” he says as he looks at her, “So it seemed like the right thing to do,” his lips curl into a half smile, his dimples slowly appearing in his cheeks, “Emily on the other hand…”

“Isn’t close to her mother,” she finishes for him and he nods, chuckling humourlessly as he looks back at the rings. 

“No she is not,” he replies, not saying anything he knows Emily wouldn’t want him to. His expression changes as he looks at one ring in particular. It was a white gold band with a teardrop diamond. Simple and beautiful and everything Emily would love, “What about that one?” 

Penelope smiles as she leans over the case, familiar happiness warming her from the inside out, “I think it’s perfect.” 

It’s hard to keep it a secret. Love and excitement for her friend bubbling under her skin as she watches Emily go about her days unaware of the upcoming change in her life. She has to stop herself from saying something when Emily tells her Aaron has a date planned but isn’t telling her anything about it, a hint of irritation in her voice Penelope knows she doesn’t mean.

The next morning when they walk into the office, Emily’s smile shining just as brightly as the ring on her finger, Penelope knows it had been a secret worth keeping.

___

Derek

Derek hated the mall. 

He’d never been a fan of them, found them too busy, too loud and the exact opposite of how he liked to spend his free time, but the case with the missing little girl a few years ago had made him hate them even more. 

He planned to get in and out as quickly as possible, a firm plan in his mind to get his mother’s birthday gift and card and then immediately head home. It’s as he’s choosing a card when he hears it, a laugh he’d recognise anywhere in one of the other aisles. He smiles to himself as he goes to investigate, his smile only getting wider when he spots Emily and Jack standing huddled together, a card in the little boy’s hands as he looks at it thoughtfully. 

Derek still felt guilty sometimes about his initial reaction to finding out Emily and Aaron were together. He’d never been one to react to change well, something his mother often told him, and he knew he hadn’t on this occasion. He’d been standoffish, only talking to them both when he had to. It had culminated in Emily yelling at him, her irritation finally getting the better of her as she told him to get his head out of his ass, that she was happy and that she deserved to be. 

It took Aaron getting hurt, a minor injury only a few weeks after they told the team that they were together, for him to realise how much they actually cared for each other. He saw with his own eyes that the relationship he was convinced was nothing more than a fling that would fizzle out was so much more than that. Concern flowing off of Emily like he’d never seen before until she saw Aaron herself, the relief palpable as she threw herself at him only to pull back immediately when he grimaced slightly. 

Ever since then, he’d watch them together when they thought no one was watching. Observe as they focused only on each other. He’d done so at their wedding as the guests slowly left, his eyes fixed on them as they slow danced together on the empty dance floor, letting themselves be led by the love they had for each other in place of the music that was no longer playing. 

He takes a moment to watch her with Jack, her focus entirely on the little boy who now called her Mom. She’d always been good with kids, he knew that, but seeing her as a mother was something else entirely. 

Something that, if his hunch was right, she’d be doing more of soon. 

She’d been different lately. Exhausted all the time but turning coffee every time it was offered to her and turning her nose up at food anytime someone ate in front of her. Penelope had mentioned that she knew they were trying for a baby and he couldn’t help but wonder if their family would be getting bigger soon. 

He clears his throat to announce his presence, “Fancy seeing you two here.”

Emily smiles as she looks up, and she steps towards him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug, “Derek, hi. What are you doing here?” 

He pulls back, “Getting my mom’s birthday present,” he says, winking at Jack, “What about you two?” 

Emily opens her mouth to reply but is cut off as Jack excitedly replies, “It’s Father’s Day soon so we are getting Daddy’s card and present.” 

Derek ruffles the little boy's hair, “That sounds great buddy,” he says enthusiastically, “What are you getting him?”

“We got his cologne because Mom said he smells nice,” Jack replies, not picking up on how Emily’s cheeks go bright red, her gaze drifting to the floor as she avoid Derek’s eye contact and smirk, “And then a picture of the three of us from the wedding,” he carries on, “And then Mom said she’s got him a surprise.” 

Derek smiles as Emily’s eyes briefly go wider before she wraps her arm around Jack, “Come on sweetie, we should leave Uncle Derek to it.”

He shrugs, hiding a smile as he tests his theory, “I have time for a slice of pizza at the food court if you guys do.”

Emily almost turns green, visibly swallowing thickly as she shakes her head, her free hand briefly pressing against her stomach, “That’s okay,” she says, smiling tightly, “We were just there and Jack had something to eat,” she looks down at the little boy, “You ready to go?” 

Jack nods and smiles and waves at Derek, “Bye Uncle Derek.”

“Bye Little Hotch,” he says, fist bumping Jack and smiling when Emily rolls her eyes at him, “Bye, Em.”

“See you at work on Monday, Derek.” 

A month later, when they announce Emily is pregnant, he smiles and then immediately goes to Penelope’s office to get the $20 she owed him. 

___

JJ

“I am so uncomfortable.” 

JJ hums sympathetically at her friend as she sits back in the booth they are both in, a soft smile spreading across her face as she watches her friend rub her hand on her belly, “Your back?”

Emily grumbles as she tries to get comfortable, “Everything,” she complains, shifting again, “I feel so full of baby and food. I have no idea how I’ll cope when I’m further along.”

JJ chuckles and raises her eyebrow at her, “I guess you probably won’t have room for two desserts when you’re further along.” 

Emily narrows her eyes at her, “The cake was good,” she replies defensively, “It doesn’t help that the mattress in our room is a piece of crap.” 

“It’s bad in my room too,” JJ replies, checking her watch, “Where did Hotch get to?”

“He had to stay at the precinct,” Emily says, smiling as she rubs her hand on her stomach again, “I was going to wait but he told me to come get some food. He knows I’ve been eyeing up this diner since the moment we arrived.”  

JJ smiles at her friend, “Well, I’ll always be free to go out and eat with you.” 

She laughs and nods at her, “You’re a good friend,” she winces and rubs a firm circle on her bump, “She won’t stop kicking,” she smiles and sighs contentedly, “She never stops. I haven’t slept properly in weeks.” 

“Totally worth it though, right?”

Emily smiles and nods, her lips pressed together as she tries to contain the joy that JJ knew she still wasn’t sure she deserved, “Totally worth it.” 

They both look towards the diner’s front door when the bell indicating it was open rings, and Emily’s smile gets impossibly wider when Aaron walks in, a large Target bag in his hand. He smiles when he sees them and walks over, kissing Emily as he slips into the booth next to her.

“Hi sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” she replies, kissing him again, “I thought you had to stay behind to work and you went shopping?” 

He clears his throat and JJ finds the flush that tints his cheeks pink adorable and she can’t help but interrupt, enjoying the insight into their lives that she wasn’t privy to, “I didn’t even know this town had a Target.”

He looks back and forth between her and Emily, sighing at the teasing grins on their faces and he smiles tightly, “There isn’t,” he says, passing the bag over to Emily, “But there is one the next town over so I went to get this for you.” 

Emily frowns curiously, “Honey, the next town is an hour away…” She drifts off as she opens the plastic bag, her eyes shining as she pulls a U-shaped pillow out of it, “You bought me a pregnancy pillow?”

He nods as if it is obvious, “You were uncomfortable and the mattress in our room is terrible. I know you have one at home but I thought this could be one we brought on cases until you stay back,” he says, reaching over and tucking some of her hair behind her ear, sneakily catching a tear that JJ thinks he didn’t know she’d seen, “I’ll carry it for you and everything.” 

Emily shakes her head at him and leans in to kiss him, her hand on his cheek as she pulls back, “I love you,” she says, kissing him again, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.” 

“I’m the only husband you’ve ever had,” he quips, and she laughs, hugging the pillow to her chest. 

“Well, you’re setting the bar pretty high for your replacement,” she jokes and he rolls his eyes before he leans in and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m going to order some of that pie the sign outside claims is the best in the state,” he says, stepping out of the booth, “Do either of you want anything?” 

They both shake their heads and he walks towards the counter, leaving them alone for a couple of minutes. JJ looks at her friend, at how she’s looking at the pregnancy pillow as if it’s the best gift she’s ever been given, Aaron’s thoughtfulness, the fact he’d gone out of his way without being asked to get her something to make her more comfortable, making it worth more than anything else. 

“You okay, Em?”

Emily looks up at her and nods, her lips pressed together as she tries to control her emotions, a slave to her hormones as she had been for months now, “Yeah,” she replies, chuckling at herself as she wipes another tear from her cheek, “I just never thought I’d have all of this, you know?”

JJ nods and reaches over the table, resting her hand over her friends and squeezing, “I know,” she says, squeezing her hand again, “But if anyone deserves it, it’s you and Hotch.” 

Emily blows out a shaky breath and looks over at her husband, smiling as she catches his eye as he stands at the counter, and she nods as she turns back to JJ, “Yeah, I think you might be right.” ___

Spencer

He was always the first in the office these days.

Aaron and Emily used to get there before him, something he knew was largely down to Aaron, but they didn’t anymore. Ever since Ivy was born 6 months ago they were almost always the last in. The realities of having an infant and a 7-year-old and getting them out of the house in the morning was something that not even Aaron’s efficiency could overcome. 

Spencer sighs as he settles at his desk, his cup of coffee in hand, and he starts to catch up on his paperwork. He greets the team as they come in, always arriving in the same order. First Dave, then Derek, then Penelope. JJ would come next, throwing him a wink as she passed him a pastry she’d bought for him on the way in. She also puts one on Emily’s desk, and it draws his attention to something he hasn’t seen before. 

Just to the right of her computer is a framed photo of Jack and Ivy, the baby girl in her proud brother’s lap, his smile wide as he looks at the camera. Something about it is familiar to Spencer, even though he’s never seen it on Emily’s desk before but it takes him a second to place it. 

Aaron had the same picture on his desk. It was a new feature there too, something he’d never seen before the recent Christmas break, but he’d spotted it the day before when he’d dropped off paperwork in his office. 

“Good morning.” 

He looks up and smiles at Emily as she sits down, a large coffee in her hands as she shrugs off her jacket and yawns.

“Tired?” JJ asks and Emily groans, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Ivy hates sleep,” she complains, turning her chair around, “And she hates anyone else sleeping.” 

“I brought you a pastry.”

Emily groans and tears the paper bag open, “You’re an angel,” she pulls the pastry apart and takes a bite, her gaze drifting to Spencer, her eyebrows furrowing when she spots him staring past her, “You okay, Reid?”

He seemingly snaps out of it, his eyes widening slightly before he clears his throat, his curiosity getting the better of him, “I thought Hotch had that picture on his desk.” 

“Oh,” Emily looks at the framed photo next to her and then back at him, her lips pressed together as she clicks her tongue, “He does.” 

Derek pops his head up, seemingly interested in their conversation now there is a chance to make fun of her, “You have the same photo?”

“It’s a cute photo,” she says, slightly more defensive than she means to be, and she blows out a breath, “We…got it for each other for Christmas.” 

“You got each other the same gift?” Spencer asks, furrowing his brow, “In the same frame?”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, “Yes. We did.” 

Derek laughs and leans back in his chair, “I guess it’s true that couples start to turn into each other after they’ve been together long enough.”

“Shut up Derek,” she replies, narrowing her eyes at him, “My kids are cute and it’s a cute picture.” 

He holds his hand up, barely hiding his smile, “Whatever you say Princess, but the two of you aren’t that far off dressing the same.”

“Actually, Emily and Hotch co-ordinated their outfits long before they were together,” Spencer says, only realising he’d spoken when they all stare at him, varying degrees of amusement on their faces, “His ties matched your shirt often enough I actually thought you were together before you were.” 

He’d never told anyone that he already knew they were together when they told them. He’d spotted them together months ago but kept it to himself, certain that there was a reason Emily and Aaron were keeping it to themselves. Even if he hadn’t seen them, he thinks he would have figured it out. Patterns had started to emerge. They would arrive at work at similar times. They would go to breakfast together at the hotels they stayed at during cases. If one was upset or hurt, the other would disappear alongside them and then when they came back they’d stand a little closer than usual.

He’d never said anything, largely because he knew no one would believe him, but also because he saw no merit in taking their secrecy away from them. It had brought them a kind of peace they both were due, and he wasn’t going to ruin it for them. 

Emily stares at him for a moment before sighing and shaking her head, picking up her coffee and turning her back on them all as she switches on her computer.

“It is far too early in the morning for this.” 

When Aaron walks out of his office, his tie the same shade of red as Emily’s shirt, the team all burst into laughter, something that’s only made worse by his obvious confusion.

___

Aaron & Emily

There were two things Aaron had always known about Emily.

The first was that she was rich. He hadn’t known quite how rich until they got together and she told him. He’d had to sit down afterwards, his eyes wide as she showed him that she could buy their dream house, that she could buy the whole neighbourhood if she wanted. When he’d finally pulled himself together he could see that she was worried, as if knowing this about her had changed his opinion of her. As if anything could make him be anything less than in awe of her at all times. 

The second thing he’d always known about her was that she was endlessly generous. 

She spent money without thinking about it. She bought dinner for the team on nights when cases got away from them, or paid the tab at the bar on a night out. She bought him a $10,000 watch when his broke. She’d paid for Penelope’s medical bills when she was shot, easily picking up the bits that the FBI insurance didn’t cover, and Aaron had learnt after they became a couple that she’d done the same for him too. That she’d paid out of pocket for him to have the best physio in the state so he could recover as quickly as possible. She always did it quietly, was less flashy than Dave sometimes was with his wealth, something Aaron thought must come down to being ‘old money’ rich instead of ‘new money’ rich, and she never seemed to expect anything in return. 

As much as he loved her for it, for the way she so casually loved him and their children, it sometimes made it impossible to buy her gifts that didn’t feel like they were lacking in comparison. She would never make him feel that way. She’d react to any gift from him or the kids like they’d handed her the stars themselves. 

He feels nothing short of annoyed at himself at how long it takes him to realise it’s the homemade gifts that mean the most to her. How her smile would get wider when she unwrapped a mug that had been made at Ivy’s daycare, her eyes shining with tears when she’d traced her fingers over their daughter’s tiny hand prints and then refused to drink tea out of anything else. How she’d kept every drawing Jack had ever given her, even the ones from before she and Aaron got together, and had her favourites framed and on her desk at work. 

By the time their anniversary comes around, he’s worked on his gift for her for weeks. He’d found old ticket stubs and receipts from dates they’d gone on when they were first together. He carefully stuck them down in a scrapbook, pushing through the frustration when the pages would stick together because he knew she’d love it. He puts in an invitation from their wedding that he’d kept back. Pictures of them all drawn by Jack and copies of the first ultrasound images they had of Ivy. 

He knows he’s not an artist, but by the time he’s done, he’s pleased with it. A scrapbook of their life so far together, pages purposely left blank so he could add to it if she wanted him to. Despite liking it, when it comes to their anniversary he’s nervous, anxiety licking at his insides as he slips it into the gift bag he’d bought. 

He finds her on the couch, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of leggings, a sleepy smile on her face as she tucks her legs up under herself and pats the spot next to her. 

“Come here, honey,” she says, suppressing a yawn, “The kids are asleep, but we both know Ivy won’t be for long,” she smiles as she thinks of the 13-month-old. Their little girl had never been a good sleeper, but they were used to it now and neither of them could imagine their lives any other way, “Let’s exchange gifts and go to bed.” 

He smiles as he sits next to her, leaning in to kiss her cheek, but she turns, capturing his lips with hers instead. He stamps another kiss against her before he pulls back, “We could have gone out, sweetheart.”

She shakes her head and runs her fingers through his hair, “No, this is what I wanted. You, me and the kids. And a home-cooked meal,” she kisses him again, “I don’t need to go sit in a restaurant to feel loved by you.” 

He nods, knowing he doesn’t need anything else either, and then blows out a slow breath and hands her the gift bag, “Happy Anniversary, Em.” 

Her smile gets impossibly wider as she takes the bag from him, stamping a kiss against his cheek as she leans back with it in her lap, “Oh it’s heavy,” she says, reaching into the bag and pulling out the book, “Your gift is a lot smaller by the…” 

She drifts off as she realises what she is looking at, her fingers tracing the outside of the scrapbook before she opens it, a gasp catching in her throat as she turns the pages. Memories of their time together stuck down and on display for her to see. She feels a burning in the back of her eyes, familiar tears that she knew she wouldn't avoid shedding as she continues to turn the pages - pictures and tickets and keepsakes from the last few years staring back at her.

“Aaron…”

“I know it’s not much-” he starts, but she cuts him off, all but launching herself at him as she grabs his face and kisses him, the book trapped between them. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, pulling back just enough to speak before she kisses him again, “It’s…I love you.” 

She’d already preferred homemade gifts. It was as if love was pressed into the very seams of them, time and effort from her loved ones more precious to her than any amount of money ever could be. 

“I love you too.” 

She smiles as she pulls back and reaches behind her, grabbing a small gift bag she’d hidden amongst the couch cushions, “Here you go,” she says, nervously biting her lower lip as she hands it over, “Your’s is homemade too.” 

He smiles curiously at her as she wraps her arms around her knees and hugs them to her chest, the scrapbook now between them, and his heart skips a beat when he feels a long thin piece of plastic in his hands and he already knows what it is before he looks at it. He looks down and chokes on a surprised laugh when his suspicion is confirmed, a positive pregnancy test staring back up at him.

“Em…”

She presses her lips together as her lips shake at the wonder in his voice, “I know technically you helped make this gift,” she says, her cheeks warm as he looks at her with so much love she thinks she could burst, “But I’ll be doing all the hard work and literal heavy lifting, so I thought it counted.” 

“It definitely counts,” he says, pulling her towards him so she’s in his lap, his arms tight around her as he kisses her fiercely, hoping it goes some way to express just how much he loves her, “This is the best anniversary present ever.” 

She nods and kisses him, her forehead against his as she sighs contentedly, her thumb pressing into his lower lip as she gently corrects him, “Best anniversary present so far.” 

-x-

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[nausicaamusiclover20]

So Metallicas biography by Mick Wall states that James got more confidence after his acne went down and he got a few girls. So this inspired my idea: maybe back when he was insecure about his looks he started dating a girl who was “out of his league”, and she really loved him, they were each others firsts and other puppy love staff and she always told him how handsome he is? but he soon broke up with her because of his insecurities and cause Dave was saying that James was a “pity project” for her. So during MoP tour when they are in turn he wants to reconcile, but she’s very upset not only because of break up but because “I told you so many times how amazing you are but that wasn’t good enough but when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?”

Omg, I love so much James with acne, he's too cuteeee. By the way, I hope you like it❤

Just the way you are

The night I met James, he wasn’t the confident rockstar the world would come to know. Instead, he was the boy who didn’t quite understand why someone like me would even look at him twice. He was still growing, not just in his music but in himself—still insecure, his face dotted with acne, his posture hunched as if trying to hide from the world. I remember how he’d avoid looking into my eyes, always fidgeting with his hands or the sleeve of his jacket, almost as if waiting for me to call him out, tell him he wasn’t worthy of my time.

But I never did.

I could see the real James—the one behind the mask he tried so hard to wear. The one who, when he smiled, looked like he could light up the darkest room. The one who was funny, kind, and so full of ideas. His eyes, though shadowed by his insecurities, always seemed to be searching for something. Maybe it was love. Maybe it was validation.

For months, we spent endless nights talking, laughing, and just being together. I told him, again and again, how beautiful he was—how his soul shone brighter than anything I had ever seen. But no matter how many times I said it, no matter how I held him close, it never seemed to stick. He would laugh it off, shrug, and change the subject.

“I’m nothing special,” he’d mutter, his voice barely audible.

I couldn’t understand it. To me, James was everything. More than just the musician everyone idolized. He was someone I saw beyond the rough exterior, beyond the acne that made him so self-conscious. He was perfect to me. But he couldn’t see it.

One night, after a particularly brutal argument with Dave, something snapped in James. The insults from Dave always made him retreat into himself, but this time it was different. “You’re just a pity project for her,” Dave had said. His words cut deep, and I could see the effect it had on James. His eyes glazed over, a storm brewing behind them.

“James… that’s not true,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. But he pulled it away.

“I don’t know what you see in me,” he muttered, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m not some pretty boy you should be with. You deserve someone better.”

It was the first time I truly saw the cracks in his facade. All his doubts, all his fears, bled out in that moment, and I realized just how fragile he really was. I tried to reassure him, to tell him that I loved him, that I always would, but the words felt hollow. He didn’t believe them.

Then, it happened.

One night, right after another heart-wrenching conversation, he pulled away.

“I’m not good enough for you,” James said, barely looking at me. “It’s not right. I don’t deserve you.”

The words hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to lose him, but he had already made up his mind. The breakup came swiftly, a quiet moment in the dark as if he had already been gone for so long.

I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t fathom how, after everything we had been through—after I’d shown him just how much I cared for him, how much I loved him—he couldn’t accept it. He couldn’t believe in me. He couldn’t believe in himself.

_____

Months passed. The Master of Puppets tour rolled on, and Metallica was everywhere. James became the image of confidence the world adored—his face no longer hidden behind acne, his smile bright as ever. The validation he once craved seemed to come in waves, in groupies, in adoration from fans, and the recognition of the world. He was a star. He was the rock god everyone worshipped.

But every time I saw his face on TV or heard his voice on the radio, my heart sank. It wasn’t the fame that bothered me. It was the truth I had known all along.

It came late one evening, the sound of the knock at my door startling me out of a long, restless sleep. I opened the door to find him standing there, just like he had so many times before. Only this time, it was different. He wasn’t the confident rockstar, he wasn’t hiding behind the world’s expectations. He was just James.

“Y/n… can we talk?” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

I felt a lump form in my throat. Part of me wanted to slam the door, to tell him it was too late, to shout all the hurt I had kept inside. But I couldn’t. There was something in the way he said my name—something raw that made my heart ache.

“Come in,” I whispered, stepping aside.

He walked in slowly, looking like he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes were tired, sad, but also determined, like he was willing to fight for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“I’ve thought about everything,” he started, his voice low. “Everything I said… everything I did. I was scared. I was stupid. I didn’t believe you when you told me how amazing I was. I didn’t believe I could be worthy of your love. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

I felt my heart race. Those words. They were the ones I had needed to hear for so long, but they weren’t enough, were they? The damage had already been done. He had walked away, and now, months later, he was standing here with nothing but regrets and apologies.

I crossed my arms, holding back the tears. “You know, James, I told you over and over. I told you how beautiful you were, how amazing you were. I told you I loved you, but it was never enough, was it? You didn’t believe it. And now… when a bunch of groupies say so you believe them?” 

James looked at me with pleading eyes. “I was wrong. and stupid. I know I was. And I don’t expect you to just forgive me like that,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know what I said… it wasn’t true. I couldn’t see it then, but I see it now. You were never a ‘pity project.’ You never deserved to feel like that. You deserve so much more.”

The words hung in the air. I looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time in so long, I saw the James I had loved—the real James—standing in front of me, stripped of his bravado, exposed, vulnerable.

“I told you, James,” I whispered, stepping forward. “I told you so many times. And I know now… I can’t just give you all of me without knowing you believe in us. I needed to know that you believe in us”

He nodded, his eyes sincere. “I believe in us, Y/n. I believe in you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it, if you’ll let me.”

My heart fluttered in my chest, emotions rushing over me all at once. He was still the boy I had loved, but now there was more—so much more. He wasn’t the same James who had walked away. This was the man who had finally faced his fears, who had finally learned to believe in himself, in us.

I felt the tightness in my chest loosen, the walls I had built to protect myself slowly crumbling. I stepped closer, my voice shaking as I whispered, “I was so scared, James. I wanted to hold onto you so badly, but I couldn’t keep holding onto someone who couldn’t see me. You didn’t see me. But I need to know—do you see me now?”

His eyes softened, and he reached for me, his hand trembling just a little. “I do. I see you, Y/n. I’ve always seen you, but I was too scared to look at what you really were. You’ve always been what I needed, but I was too stupid to understand it before.”

I closed the space between us, the weight of everything we’d been through crashing over me. My hands found his, and I could feel the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his grip. “I’m not perfect, James. I’ve been angry. I’ve been hurt. But maybe… maybe I can try again. For us. If you really mean it.”

James pulled me into him, and I could feel the tension that had been between us for so long melt away. His arms wrapped around me, holding me like he would never let me go again. My heart swelled as I rested my head against his chest, hearing the familiar beat of his heart beneath my ear.

“I’ll never let you go,” he murmured, kissing my temple,  his voice thick with emotion. “Not this time. Not ever.”

A tear slipped from my eye, but this time, it wasn’t from pain—it was from relief, from the healing I had longed for. I felt his thumb gently brush it away, his lips pressing softly against my forehead.

“I’ve always loved you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of everything we had been through. “And I think I’ve always known… you’d come back to me. ”

James smiled softly, and in that moment, I knew. We couldn’t erase the past, but we could build something new. Something better. The years of pain, the uncertainty, the distance—everything that had torn us apart was now behind us, and all that mattered was what came next. For the first time in a long time, I truly believed that we could make it. I could feel the love between us growing again, like a fire rekindling after a long, cold night.

[cloudlessly-light]

Can you please right me a Hotchniss fic for my birthday. I had an idea inspired by the Vegas ep 4x06. Where because they were all staying in Vegas overnight Emily and Hotch slept together but I'm a bad writer so I was hoping you could do it for me.

It's JJ is sleeping in her room, Dave is drinking in his, Spencer is with his mom, Derek is at the hotel bar trying to distinguish between hookers and girls that are actually interested in him and Hotch and Emily are at the bar waiting for their drinks so that they can copy Dave. But the drinks are taking a while so they sit there together waiting and laughing at Derek not being able to tell the difference between a hooker and someone that is interested in him and Emily asks him about Jack. They end up staying at the bar and getting drunk instead of going to their rooms. Eventually Emily wants to go for a walk with Hotch to the beach so they go to the pier buy ice cream then go to the beach Emily falls over a rock, Hotch carries her to a shop where he buys a couple of towels and a change of clothes for her, Emily gets changed at the beach while Hotch holds a towel up to stop other people seeing, the head back to the hotel, Hotch buys Em a hot chocolate to warm her up he also puts his arm round her for body heat, they get back to the hotel Emily tells him to order them a cocktail (Derek is still there but never notices them) Hotch orders the cocktails, Emily comes back sits next to him but the an older couple come over and there's only one seat left next to Em so she gets up thinking Hotch would give her his but he just points to his lap and she sits where he points, Em says something neither of them remember what it was but it turned Hotch on, he kisses her neck, Em says finish your drink then we're going to my room, they walk past Derek holding hands (Derek is still oblivious), makeout session in elevator, smut in Em's room, Hotch sneaks out in the morning and then something about BAU fam finding out.

Sorry that was long but could you do it and put it on A03 and tag me, my username is PrentissmyHotch

Thanks xx

A/N: Happy birthday @prentissmyhotch! I hope you like this little fic and that you have a great day!

Title: Running through my mind  Summary: “You think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?”

Because Aaron and Emily most certainly did. Word count: 5,3k Rating: Explicit   Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, idiots who’ve hidden their feelings for too long, consumption of alcohol

They were all a little tired, emotionally drained. Cases involving kids always had everyone on edge. But it had ended as well as expected, a child getting to go home to his parents and a woman in clear need of help being taken away in handcuffs. It had been Spencer who needed to stay, they had all noticed the way he was clearly distracted, and Aaron had arranged for them all to stay in Vegas for another night. So as the youngest member of their team spent some much needed time with his mother, the rest of them went to dinner.

It was a team dinner spent talking and laughing as they let the tension from the last couple of days roll off them. By the time the bill was placed on the table, their spirits were heightened and Derek suggested that they’d go to the hotel bar, never one to not take advantage of a good time.

“I’m beat, you guys.” JJ said as she rubbed over her baby bump, already suppressing a yawn. “Don’t go to crazy now.” She winked at Derek and Emily before walking toward the elevators. Dave was quick to join her, mumbling something about needing a drink and a cigar alone, away from the bright lights and loud people.

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” Emily says as she makes her way over to the bar with Aaron while Derek heads toward a group of women. “Getting an early night in I mean.”

“Yes. Maybe we should get these drinks and take them back to our rooms.” He agrees easily as he flags down the bartender. He orders himself a scotch and without missing a beat a martini for her.

“How did you know that I drink martinis?” She smiles at him as he shrugs.

“You’ve mentioned it before. And the few times I’ve seen you drink it’s either martini or wine.” He turns to lean against the bar and catches Derek on the other side of the room, already talking to a woman.

“Do you think that’s a working girl or someone who’s actually interested in him?” Emily asks as she mimics him and leans back against the bar as they wait for their drinks.

“I think that’s exactly what Morgan is trying to figure out.” He chuckles and when she joins him he can’t help the slight flutter in his chest at the sound. It wasn’t something new, it had been like this for months, his affection for his subordinate something he didn’t act on, but was getting harder and harder to ignore.

“I think you’re right.” She looks behind her at the bartender who seems to be drowning in orders and she sighs. It looked like they’d have to wait a while. “How’s Jack?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard but he smiled fondly at the thought of his son.

“He’s good. He’s getting into superheroes and cars.” He turns slightly to face her, suddenly a little more serious. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment for him, the divorce.”

“He’s three, it must be hard for him to understand.” She refrains from touching him, but she can feel the urge to take his hand or hug him, a feeling that she had become used to feeling. Her attraction toward him had been instant, but ever since his divorce it had become something more, something stronger than just attraction.  

“Yeah. We’ve tried to explain, but you’re right.” The sound of glass against wood causes him look away from her and to the drinks that the bartender places in front of them. He nods his thanks as he pays and ignores Emily’s protests as he does.

“You’ll pay the next round.” He tells her and with that, they find a table, any thought of going back to their rooms all but gone.

They spend the next hour talking about anything and everything as they drink their way through a few drinks each. Occasionally they’d spot Derek, still finding his way through a multitude of women, seemingly to be enjoying himself. Neither of them were surprised, Derek was attractive and charming and women always flocked to him like moths to a flame.

“I never saw it.” She says suddenly after watching her friend turn what was for sure a prostitute away.

“Saw what?” Aaron asked before taking a small sip of his scotch, the alcohol was starting to affect them both.

“What it is that drives women crazy around him.” She looks from Derek to him, a smirk on her face as her dark eyes zero in on him. “He isn’t my type I guess.”

“What is your type?” He asks before he could stop himself, somehow lost in the depth of her eyes. The longer they had sat there talking, it felt like their inhibitions had lowered.

“I guess… it’s more about the personality. But tall, dark and mysterious is a trait most of my exes have in common.” Her smirk deepens and she catches the way his jaw clenched just slightly. The alcohol was clearly making her more brazen and she knows that she should try and control herself. She caught the slight curve of his smile, the arch of one eyebrow as he looked at her in a way she knows he shouldn’t. It was too much, they were walking a paper thin line and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that she needed to sober up. “I want ice cream.” She says and the bluntness of it takes him back, but it was the best she could come up with to cut through the sudden tension between them.

“Ice cream? In the middle of the night?” He chuckles as she nods, her smile becoming bigger.

“Yeah, that’s the best time for ice cream.” She grins at the way he’s clearly trying to see if she’s joking or not but when she stands he quickly follows her.

Once they’re outside she takes a few deep breaths, the fresh air helping her to clear her mind. Aaron is right beside her, standing a little closer than he normally would and they start to walk. Even now, the streets were full of people, mostly drunk tourists that were loud and rowdy and she felt Aaron tug her a little closer to him. She couldn’t help but to find his slight protectiveness attractive.

Every time their hands bumped together he forced himself from taking it in his, he shouldn’t go there, he couldn’t, even if his attraction towards her was close to maddening, especially now with alcohol clouding his judgement and Emily being more relaxed in his presence than he’d ever seen her.

It’s not long until they find a place that serves ridiculously huge scoops of ice cream and she drags him over to the counter. She orders a cone with cookie dough ice cream and as she pays she turns to him.

“You don’t want any?”

“No, I’m okay.” He watches with dark eyes as she licks the cone absentmindedly, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the dirty thoughts at bay.

“Your loss.” She winks and takes another lick of the ice cream, a happy moan falling from her at the sweet taste. The way he’s staring at her doesn’t go unnoticed by her and her stomach knots up in nervous excitement. It was wrong, she knew it was, but she couldn’t help herself as she takes a longer, slower lick, just to test her theory and when she sees his tongue swipe over his bottom lip she gets the confirmation she needs. It wasn’t one-sided, it wasn’t just the alcohol.

“Let’s go for a walk, sober up.” He mutters as a way to distract himself. His mind is reeling, he knows she’s trying to get a reaction out of him, but he wasn’t sure if it was only because she found it fun to tease him, or because she was drunk or maybe she even felt the way he did. Whatever the reason, he had to focus on something else, even if all he wanted was to kiss her.

She fell into step with him easily. It was dumb, she knew that, but she had wanted him from day one, had forced herself to ignore the attraction towards him for almost two years now. It had gotten harder after his divorce, but it had been working. That was until tonight, because right now it felt like the pent up attraction had come to a boil, and even though she knew she should put a lid on it, something was stopping her. It was him, the way he was looking at her with the same want she felt, and she knew that as much as they both tried to deny it, it was useless.

The tension between them only got more pronounced as they talked, subtle flirting slowly leading to a few more discrete touches, a few more knowing looks. It was exciting, it was fun, it was something they both had wanted for so long.

They walk together while she finished the ice cream and as she threw a couple of napkins in a trash bin, she shivered slightly from the night air. The cold air had finally caught up to her, together with the coldness from the ice cream and she suddenly felt herself freezing.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he watches the goosebumps on her exposed arms as she crosses them.

“Yes, just a little cold.” She offers him a smile and then sees him unbuttoning his suit jacket and she shakes her head. “No it’s okay Hotch.”

“Just take it.” He tells her evenly but she doesn’t move and he sighs. “You’re always so stubborn Emily.” There’s no malice in his voice, only a hint of teasing and he puts the jacket over her shoulders. He stares at her until she rolls her eyes and uncrosses her arms to be able to put it on completely.

“You’re so dramatic.” She mutters but she couldn’t deny that the warmth of his jacket and the smell that was so distinctively Aaron, made her immediately relax a little.

“Yeah yeah, whatever you say Prentiss. Come on let’s head back to the hotel.” He barely even takes notice that his hand lingers on her lower back as he ushers her forward.

“You’re right, it’s getting late.” She agrees, still shivering slightly even with his jacket around her. Her arms crosses again as they walk, her main focus on getting back to the hotel but then Aaron stops suddenly.

“Hold on.” He says and quickly walks over to a coffee stand, leaving Emily to watch him curiously. When he comes back he hands her a take-away cup and when she smells it she can’t help but to smile at him.

“Hot chocolate, what am I 5 years old?” She teases and he snickers at her.

“It’ll get you warmed up. It’s too late for coffee.” He watches as she takes a sip and when she hums happily he smiles. “See, not such a bad idea huh.” They start to walk again and he wraps his arm around her shoulders as she drinks from her cup.

She looks up at him with knowing eyes and his eyebrow raises in return.

“Body heat is a good way to get warmed up is it not?” He leers and she laughs softly. “Or should I stop?”

“No-” She says too quickly and then faulters as she feels her cheeks heat up. “Don’t, it does help.”

So he keeps his arm around her and as they get closer to the hotel he feels her relax fully into him, any shivering gone and a little more color back in her cheeks. He only let’s go when they’re back at the hotel and Emily hands him his jacket back with a smile.

“Thank you.”                                                                                                        

“No worries. You look better in my clothes than I do.” He feels want tug low in his gut when she blushes and he realizes that he doesn’t want their night to end just yet. Luckily for him, Emily seemed to have similar feelings.

“Want to have one last drink?” She asks and he nods.

“One more drink sound nice.” He lets her lead the way back to the bar. He catches Derek at a table in the back, two women sitting with him and he shakes his head at the younger man. Derek doesn’t notice them though, too caught up in conversation to care about his surroundings anymore.

“I have to go to the bathroom, do you mind ordering me a drink?” Emily’s voice cuts through the loud atmosphere and he looks down at her.

“Not at all.” He watches as she heads to the bathroom and then goes to the bar and quickly orders them their drinks. It was even more crowded now than it had been earlier in the night and he walks around the bar only to find a small table with three seats available.

When Emily comes back a couple of minutes later she happily sits down next to him and clinks her glass with his.

“Cheers.” She takes a sip of her drink and relaxes. She catches Derek walking through the bar, but he’s still oblivious to their presence.

“Cheers.” He says and drinks from his glass, the amber liquid sliding down easily with a pleasant burn. His eyes stay on her, he had always found her beautiful, but he rarely got to see this side of her. They had already crossed the line, he knew that, so why not take the plunge?

“Excuse me?”

The sound of an older man talking to Emily gets her attention from where she had been clocking Derek.

“Yes?” She asks as she looks at a man probably twice her age, standing with what she could only assume was his wife.

“I’m terribly sorry, but there’s no tables left, I was wondering if it would be alright if my wife sat next to you?” He looks at the empty spot next to her.

“Oh of course, and you can take mine it’s no bother.” She jumps up quickly and walks around the table to stand next to Aaron.

“Thank you dear. You have a good night with your handsome man.” The older woman smiles at them and Emily laughs at the way Aaron blushes.

She expects him to get up and offer her his seat, after all Aaron was always a gentleman, but when he stays quiet and simply looks at her with a dark stare she feels herself wondering what he’s up to. Then he points to his lap, wordlessly telling her to sit and she feels herself flush. They had gone beyond what would be considered just colleagues tonight, but this would make it official, after this it felt like there was no turning back.

“Come on.” He urges her but she doesn’t need any more prompting and carefully sits down on his lap. His arm comes around her waist to steady her and she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Is this your move? Getting women to sit on your lap?” Her voice comes out slightly breathy and his fingers tighten against her side.

“No, this was just a coincidence.” He whispers against her ear and she shivers slightly.

“A happy coincidence.” She looks out over the crowd of people for a moment and she feels his lips grace her neck. “Don’t start something you won’t finish.”

“Trust me, I plan to finish this.” He mumbles before he places a soft kiss to the back of her neck. When she cranes her neck slightly he kisses her again, slow kisses placed along her skin until she’s squirming on his lap, her breathing slightly ragged.

“Finish your drink, then we’re going to my room.” She tells him before finishing her own in one gulp and then gets off his lap only to see him doing the same. The look in his eye makes her gasp, the dark orbs filled with want as he watches her. She takes his hand without thinking, only registers the size and warmth of his palm against hers for a second before she starts to drag him out of the bar and towards the elevators.

Derek doesn’t notice that they walk right past him, if he did they never would have heard the end of it.

The seconds before the elevator arrives seem endless but as the doors opens and they find it empty Emily breathes a sigh of relief. She walks in first and stands against the back wall as Aaron presses the button to their floor. When he turns to her she feels like prey, his eyes never leaving her as he takes a small step toward her and crowds her space.

“Kiss me.” She whispers against his face, his forehead pressing against hers.

“Will you regret this tomorrow?” He asks, hands finding their way to her hips as he waits for her reply.

“Not if you won’t.” She tells him honestly and he breathes a sigh before kissing her. He tastes like scotch and mint and Aaron and it is addictive. She doesn’t think she could ever stop kissing him. His tongue licks at the seam of her lips and as she opens her mouth to him, her hand tangles in his short hair to keep him close.

They don’t stop kissing until the elevator stops and the doors open, revealing another couple who awkwardly clear their throats.

“Sorry.” Aaron mutters while Emily laughs as he drags her out of the elevator toward her room. She fishes out her key card while he presses kisses along the back of her neck and shoulder, his front pressing to her back.

“You’re distracting me.” She mumbles when her hands tremble too much to get the card into the slide.

“You haven’t seen nothing yet.” He mutters against her ear before biting the lobe.

“Cocky, aren’t you?” She smiles and then finally gets the door open and they tumble inside. He’s already tugging on her shirt, his hands seemingly everywhere and she turns in his arms.

“No, not cocky.” He says as she gets his shirt unbuttoned. “Self-assured.” He smirks at the way she looks up at him with an arched eyebrow.

The rest of their clothes end up in piles on the floor in between heated kisses and exploring touches. By the time Aaron gently pushes her back against the bed she’s panting, her body feeling like it was set ablaze from the sheer want she felt for him. She looks up at him, standing in just his boxers and she can’t help but to slowly take in just how gorgeous he is.

“Why are you hiding all of this under those suits of yours?” She teases as her hands move up his stomach and chest, feeling the muscles under soft skin. When she digs her nails into his chest quickly he groans, the sound low and breathy and before she knows it he’s on her, effortlessly lifting her higher on the bed as he settles above her.

His hands travel down her body, thick fingers exploring every curve and dip of her as he swallows up her soft gasps. Her bra is thrown across the room the second he gets it undone, and his mouth follows the same trail that his fingers had, tasting her skin eagerly. He feels her fingers in his hair, her blunt nails scratching his scalp gently and he feels a shiver along his spine. When he sucks a nipple into his mouth, her grip on his hair tightens slightly and she arches into him.

“Fuck, Aaron.” She moans softly and he knows that he has to hear his name fall from her lips like that again, the sound shooting straight down to his cock. He bites down on her nipple and tugs and when she gasps he hums in satisfaction.

“You like that?” He rasps and she nods, her dark eyes hooded as she looks up at him. “You want more?”

“Yes.” She whispers and when his thigh press between her legs she grinds against him, searching for more friction. “Get your boxers off.”

He chuckles at her impatience but still tugs his boxers off and then helps her out of her underwear. His eyes rake over her body but he doesn’t get as much time as he had liked to truly worship her like he wanted, because Emily was dragging him down against her again and kissing him desperately.

“You’re sure about this right?” He can’t help but to ask when they break apart and she smiles softly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” The confession makes something in his chest warm, and he knew that they’d have to talk about what this meant later, but right then all he wanted was her. The feeling of her hand suddenly around him makes him groan and he bites down on her neck.

“You’re huge.” She gasps in surprise as she feels him. All of a sudden his earlier cockiness made sense and she feels excitement in the pit of her stomach.

“Think you can take it?” He pulls back to look at her, wanting her to still be sure, but all he’s met with is a filthy grin.

“Aaron, fuck me.” She spreads her legs wider and rubs the tip of him through her folds. “Feel how wet I am.”

“Jesus.” He hisses at the heat of her, of her slick coating him and he grabs her wrist to pull her hand away from his shaft. “You’re going to be trouble aren’t you?” He smirks at the way her eyes gleam with something mischievous. Whatever her reply was going to be gets caught in her throat when he pushes inside of her, her jaw slackening and head falling back against the pillow at the stretch of him.

“Oh, God.” She sucks in a breath as he bottoms out, the fill of him almost too much.

“That’s it, good girl.” He whispers against her ear and he feels her clench around him in response, confirming something he had already been pretty sure about. “Tell me how it feels.” He pulled out slowly, only to thrust forward again, finding a rhythm.

Between his low voice in her ear and the feeling of him inside of her she was already going crazy and she wrapped her legs tighter around his hips, pulling him harder against her.

“It feels so good.” She gets out, voice breathy. “You feel so fucking good.”

Her words make him move a little faster, a growl in his chest at the way she bites down on his neck to keep from moaning louder. He pins her hands above her head with a smug look on his face as he looks down at her.

“That’s my girl, you’re taking me so well.” His hands tighten around her wrist when she tries to get free and then he thrusts hard, making her moan loudly.

“Let me touch you.” She gasps, eyes close to pleading and it’s another few seconds before he lets go of her. The second her hands are free she pulls him into a kiss, her hand on the back of his neck while the other moves down to grip his hip tightly.

She breaks away from the kiss when the need of air becomes too much, and she kisses down his stubbled jaw, to his neck, she licks over his pulse and hears his grunt something close to her name. She takes notes of what makes his hips stutter and jaw clench and when she feels him sneaking a hand between their bodies to rub her clit, she sucks a bruise into his neck.

They stay like that, clutching each other until Emily is tensing underneath him, her moans becoming louder and breather and it’s not long until she’s clenching around him.

“Come for me baby.” He encourages her, continues to whisper dirty words and praise in her ear until she cries out loudly.

She feels the pleasure of her orgasm everywhere, her body feeling blissfully heavy and ears buzzing as he kisses his name off her lips. When he pulls out only to roll her over and gets her on her hands and knees she only moans softly.

He pulls her up against him, his chest pressing against her back as he wraps an arm around her body, fingers finding her clit again as the other holds her neck gently to keep her still.

“Let’s do that again.” He mutters and pushes back inside of her with a groan.

“Aaron- I can’t.” She gasps, her hips twitching at the steady pressure on her clit.

“Yes you can.” He drags his hips lazily against hers, feels her fluttering pulse against his fingertips as he fucks her slowly. “You feel so good on my cock, feel so tight coming on it.”

“Oh… fuck!” She hisses when he changes the angle slightly, hitting into her perfectly and she feels his smirk against the back of her neck.

“That’s it.” He licks the sweat from her skin, keeps circling her clit until she’s straining and gripping his forearm hard enough to leave bruises. Their pace quickens slightly and as she tightens around him for a second time he can feel his own orgasm building.

It’s only a few minutes later that Emily comes with a whimper, her body shaking in his arms. Through blurry pleasure she hears him groan as he pulls her tight against him. The heat of his release makes her sigh, and she lets her head rest back against his shoulder as they both try to catch their breath.

“That was incredible.” She mumbles against his neck and when he chuckles she smiles.

“It was.” He places a gentle kiss against her shoulder and then urges her to lie down on the bed. “Hold on.” He moves off the bed and goes to the bathroom and wets a towel in warm water. When he comes back, Emily is laying under the covers, hair wild and make up smudged and she’s never looked more beautiful to him.

She smiles softly when he carefully cleans between her thighs, the gesture feeling more intimate than anything they’ve done so far. Once he’s done he goes back to leave the towel and then quickly climbs under the covers with her.

“So.” She says, her fingers drawing random patterns on his chest.

“So.” He pulls her closer, hugging her against his chest.

“What do we do now?” She’s almost afraid of the answer, unsure if he would regret this now after the cloud of lust and alcohol had disappeared.

“We sleep for a couple of hours. And then if you want, I’ll take you out on a proper date when we get back home?” He watches as she smiles, something big and infections and he smiles too.

“Yeah?” She bites her bottom lip when he nods.

“Yeah.” He kisses her quickly. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“I have too.” She admits. Suddenly it felt dumb that she had ignored her feelings for so long.

“But,” Aaron stifles a yawn and looks at the clock. “We only have about three hours before everybody’s getting ready to leave. So how about we sleep, and talk more tomorrow?”

“That sounds good.” She mumbles, all of a sudden feeling how tired she actually was. His arm stays around her, keeps her close as she relaxes into the bed.

She didn’t remember a time when she felt this safe.

Aaron wakes up at the sound of his alarm only a couple of hours later. Emily was beside him, stirring at the sound and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Do we have to get up already?” She mumbles, still half asleep and he kisses her with a low chuckle.

“Go back to sleep, I just have to get to my room before everyone wakes up.” He ignores the way he wants nothing more than to stay in bed with her and gets out of bed to get dressed.

“JJ is probably awake already, be quiet when you pass her room.” She sits up, ignores the slight headache and how her muscles ache in favor of watching him. He nods as he finishes getting dressed and then leans over the bed to kiss her, lingering slightly and she cups his cheek, feeling the rough stubble against her palm.

 “I’ll see you downstairs.” He presses another kiss to her lips before slowly opening the door to make sure no one’s in the corridor.

“Bye.” She whispers and when the door closes behind him, she can’t help the happy smile on her face.

*

She finds Dave and Derek in the lobby when she comes carrying her bag only a couple of hours later. She’s tired and hungover and the sound of the machine Derek is playing on makes her head throb.

“Please Morgan, my head.” She flops down on the couch next to Dave.

“Rough night?” The older man asks as she rubs her forehead.

“From the sounds of it you had a very good night.” The teasing tone from Derek makes her look up. “Look all I’m saying is that your room was right next to mine.”

She doesn’t get the chance to reply, JJ and Aaron arriving just as she’s trying to think of a suitable lie.

“So who was the mystery man?” Dave prods her, his finger poking at her upper arm and she shakes her head.

“No one.” Her eyes find Aaron who seems caught up on what’s happening already.

“We should head to the airport.” He cuts them all off before the conversation can continue. He turns his head to Derek who’s still laughing at her embarrassment when JJ grabs his arm.

“What is that?” Her blue eyes were zeroed in on Aaron, eyebrows narrowed as she reaches for his collar. He’s too slow to stop her and she tugs on the collar of his shirt to reveal a dark hickey and she gasps. “A hickey?!”

“Well, well, well.” Dave laughs and watches as Aaron looks between all of them and then finally his eyes lands on Emily who’s hiding her face in her hands.

“No way, there’s no way.” Derek says while JJ looks at her best friend with her mouth open.

“Can we please not talk about this right now?” Emily looks to Aaron, it was still so fresh, they had barely talked about what they were to each other, so how were they supposed to have this conversation with their team?

“It happened.” Aaron cuts off any further conversation and walks to stand beside Emily and rests his hand on her shoulder. He squeezes it gently and feels the tension in her body lessen slightly. “This isn’t something we’re going to discuss right now.”

“What does this mean though?” JJ was the one to ask, never one to beat around the bush with either of them.

“It means that it’s new and we haven’t figured it out yet.” Emily gives Derek a warning look, her voice holding a slight edge.

“I think it’s great. It’s not like this haven’t been building for a while.” Dave offers and JJ nods along.

“Yeah, but maybe, if you want some time to figure things out before a team of profilers find out, maybe don’t suck a hickey into another person’s neck like a fourteen-year-old.” The blonde jokes and Derek and Dave laugh as Emily’s blushes, feeling mortified and Aaron just shakes his head at them.

“I hate Vegas.” Emily groans and rubs her forehead to try and lessen the headache as she leans into Aaron’s body.

“Oh come on Prentiss how can you hate Vegas, it’s a grown folk’s playground. And clearly you took advantage.”

“Morgan!” Two voices scold him, but they’re only met by more laughter.

[starry-bite]

live episode reaction: "save the children" (cme 17x10)

ooh time for another formative trauma for my girl

i’m not emotional about dave and tara, you are

the wheelchairs would be so funny in another context

i love how their mission totally changes focus when em’s gone like fuck the strat we’ve gotta find emily

voit you’re so annoying i don’t want to fucking see or listen to you anymore

emily being the center of everything. conspiracy girlies just like me for real.

oh honey her list of kidnappings - cyrus 2008, doyle 2011, lewis 2017 (+bailey 2024)

ooh projector time

“you know, the first time i was out in the field i threw up.” “really?” “no. i was just trying to make you feel better.” I LOVE HER one thing about emily is she will extend such care even to this fuckin guy

paget brewster is about to deliver an incredible episode all while sitting down and i can’t wait

“you’re an only child, right? you scream only child.”

YOU HAVE A SISTER???? (i can’t decide if this is ridiculous and fucked up retroactive writer shit or if hiding a sibling from her colleagues for ~20 years is a deeply emily thing to do. or a secret third thing: spycraft lying to bailey about having a sibling so he’d be at ease/trust her/tell her more about his brother.)

oh secret siblings plotline my beloathed (interesting tie-in in this particular case it just Always rubs me the wrong way)

WAIT WAIT it's “i’m floating the idea of an eviler twin.”

“if we lose prentiss because of this, no classification in the world is gonna save you.” / “i’m not threatening your career, ray.” FUCK HIM UP ROSSI i for one would love these old men to fight

i know this is far from revelatory but god i fuckin hate madison he sucks. like. so much.

rebecca. wilson. you. rock.

“i agree, but this is emily.” full argument from ms. jareau, she said emily is a complete sentence

this brother thing is. just. so dumb.

“goddammit, i bit through my tongue.” this woman

“YOUR BOYFRIEND’S DEAD BECAUSE YOU SHOT HIM, BABE, AND YOU KILLED HIM FOR NO REASON.” EMILY PRENTISS THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE

ughh don’t call her jenny

“our special time in the cells” god and the grounding thing with her necklace this sucks so much i’m sorry jj

the way tyler is so quickly ride or die for emily this guys gets it

“and if i say no?” “voit doesn’t go, and emily dies.” oh dave

“not just the spirit but the letter of the law.” “really? you’re telling me this?” “i know. that’s why i’m not going.”

PG ABOUT TO POP OFF SHE GAVE TYLER HER GLASSES KILL HIM GARCIE I GOT YOUR FLOWER

hey baby girl wtf was that?

AWWWW CHOCOLATE THUNDER MORGAN MENTION! AFTER ALL THIS TIME? ALWAYS!

YES JJ GETS HER CONFRONTATION i do wish she had any kind of support ever though. go jj being able to handle things but you shouldn’t have to (alone).

RUINED THIS MAN’S WHOLE CAREER GOOD JOB BABY

“he had a drive that… i used to have it.” tear my entire heart open why don’t you (this is a surprise tool that will help us later, i.e. come up with a vengeance next season)

the way emily sat up straight to die, believing so completely that jade was going to kill her and she was like ‘alright, let’s go. stand and face it bravely.’

catholic guilt emily goes hard as always

the thing that really shakes her is the idea of her team in danger. the way she would die in a heartbeat to save them. you don’t get it.

“do you know that feeling when you’re staring up at the ceiling and you’re thinking, what if it’s all bullshit? maybe it’s after a preacher’s sermon or your dad yelling at you or–” “or some man is done holding you down.” “so you know.” “i do.” “so you know that– that the only way to make it through is to just. buy all the bullshit. because the alternative is way too fucking hard.” / “we need you to tell us your truth.” “will you listen to me this time?” “yes. we will.”

yeah so i’m gonna be thinking about emily saying ‘or some man is done holding you down.’ for the rest of ever 

also about emily buying all the (bureau) bullshit, the grand mission, not a higher power but a higher purpose, a reason for her suffering, holding her faith in the system like religion (you can take the girl out of the catholic church etc)

i hate that we spent so much of the season finale getting cozy with a character we’d never met and weren’t meant to care about further than we could throw him and took the time for a long arrest montage sequence (and the gang standing around looking goofy af) and yet there was no time for a team reunion scene???? DumB

“not when your valor depends on my discretion.” emily prentiss you are INcredIBLE

emily ‘i will do the right thing if it kills me’ prentiss (phrase functions as threat, promise, devotion, degradation, and request all at once btw)

she is just. so catholic.

QUANTEECO CALLBACK KIRSTENNNNNN

“i’m omnipresent” i love her

hooray you’re alive cake nope i’m dead this is the funniest possible choice

“so you were so high you couldn’t get off the couch?” “i thought i was dying. i have never been that high–ever. now, emily on the other hand…” “every time i think i know her, she surprises me with another secret.” LIKE A SECRET SISTER??? (also what an insane way to trivialize their deep connective moments in that episode. and does make me think even more about how jj probably would not have said anything like what she said if she hadn't been high off her ass.)

rebecca’s hair is bad here i’m sorry

“we decided we’re more miserable apart than together.” god they love to have sapphics together AROUND a season, never during one. because they hate us. (i say this in a joking way.) 

(but do i though?)

“she’s schwarzenegger, i’m devito.” i hate this. hate crimes.

“why are you saying his name in my personal lair?” pen calling her home a lair i love you penelope garcia

the long history of emily not fucking being at team things i know she’s gonna swing in at the end but BRUH

also GIVE HER A MOMENT TO EMOTIONALLY REFLECT YOU COWARDS the cock of plot is so far down my throat like bro EASE UP let these bitches have some emotional depth. as a treat. state mandated. the state is me.

writers are you absolutely shitting my dick no addressing emily’s trauma with the team??? like at fucking all??????? wait a minute. this is the bad place! (i know they’re gonna deal with it next season like they did with the rossi shit, it’s classic cross-season rollover biz but also WHAT THE HELL)

[mischief-tea]

More BTTF fanfic ideas! Just throwing them into the street and seeing if any of you crazy seagulls wanna carry anything off like a French fry...

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Helen of Troy

(Fic of one-shot about how Lorraine is the catalyst for so many of the men in the story’s actions)

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Clara adjusting to being in the 20th century fic

It's not the first time she's left everything behind.

(Parallels: coming out west/leaving her time - she already didn't have much to lose)

—--

Marty adjusting to life in 1985B, siblings trying to suss out each other. Series of one-shots from both timelines.

(I know some fics kinda explore this but most of them aren't actually sibling-centric)

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Fuck it. Verne/Marlene 2015.

(Pure crack I swear but would be SOOO funny if someone wanted to take it seriously)

—---

Marty Jr gets a better name now that Jennifer and Marty have some pre-existing knowledge.

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Lone Pines Marty gets swapped with Twin Pines Marty on return and has to deal with his whole life being destroyed/figure out how to survive in this timeline with no hope of ever repairing it.

—--

Biff in the Hell Valley timeline creeping on the McFly family before George’s death.

—--

Baines family history always gets overlooked - I can only assume this is because they weren't in Hill Valley until the 40s or 50s (no sign of them in 1931) - what if something else crazy happened?

—--

Something something stuck in the 60s with Uncle Joey (baby Dave)

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Marty being faced with the fact that this is NOT his Doc. His Doc died in the first timeline and the one he knows, who he first met in 1931, is thrice removed from the one who didn't turn him away when he broke in at age 14 on a dare from Needles, who gave him a place to go when home wasn't an option, helped him fix his busted amp when he was 15, who freaking taught him to drive! 

He knows he'd still die for his best friend, he's already done so a couple of times, he knows. Not that he remembers but he can make a pretty good guess.

But sometimes Doc acts like his timeline is the only one and that… that he knows Marty in ways that feel disingenuous to who he is NOW. He's not sure how to feel about a lot of it. Jen says his music is getting “a little weird, Marty, if I'm being honest”

Finally blows up about it… at Clara.

Doc would never let him unpack any of it - he was good at a lot of things but the man's unhinged way of dealing with life extended to feelings.

Clara let's him finish blowing up. Gets him some tea. And says

“Tell me about him.”

Getting to know an alternate universe version of her husband via his best friend.

Marty gets to grieve a little, and learns from Clara that his best friend isn't that different after all.

[happylikeasadsong]

save it for later x sydney's decision

so we all know the song save it for later is everywhere this season so logically i was paying close attention to whenever the song would come out and try and read more into it.

i'll be analyzing eddie vedder's cover, released exclusively for the bear season 3.

let's dive in

of all scenes where they played it in, the one that really stuck to me was when it played in the bg while she was having a coffee with shapiro and he was offering her the job.

i saw this meta doing a deep dive in the fourth wall theory by @brokenwinebox that's based on @thoughtfulchaos773 meta on it too and they mentioned the songfacts interview where dave wakeling explains what the song is about and i couldn’t help but be even more intrigued by the meaning behind the scene in episode 7.

“So it was about being lost … and you'd have all sorts of people telling you this, that, and the other, and advising you, and it didn't actually seem like they knew any better. So it was like, 'Keep your advice to yourself. Save it for later.'”

so we know syd has been feeling under appreciated ever since carmy decided to take over the menu and started disregarding most of her ideas, if not all of them.

we see her talk to all people involved. we see her having her dad say the partnership agreement is flimsy, nat and cicero both having a friendly chat with her before telling her to sign the agreement, pete says is a good thing, carmy is being carmy, and then shapiro adding to her anxiety saying he wants her to run this new place and it all sounds incredibly good, but he plans to move fast…

it should be an easy decision if you look objectively at the situation. she’ll be getting a better pay, benefits, creative control and freedom to do as she likes, she’ll be seen as a partner from the jump, no circling around it, no doubts. chef adam shapiro wants her.

but chef adam shapiro doesn’t know her. doesn’t know her story or how she’s like. he doesn’t know about her failed business. and he definitely doesn’t know her history with carmy.

so for him i think this is a chance to have the cdc who’s working with carmy berzatto, the prodigy chef. it would look wonderful on paper. but he doesn’t know her.

sydney on the other hand has seen multiple articles on the near where they only show or talk about carmy’s accomplishments and gives only him the praise both of them should be getting.

i think that having her name erased from the restaurant she put her blood, sweat and tears in cause carmy was nowhere to be found, frustrates her even more (deservedly!).

sydney's lost. she doesn't know what to do or which path to follow.

all of these people around her don’t know what’s she’s going through because she won’t talk to anybody about it. she’s saving it for later, at her own demise.

she’s being pulled in all these different directions and she’s lost, she doesn’t want to leave her found family, but the offer is an opportunity for a fresh start in a place where she knows she’s gonna be running things as she sees fit and have the freedom to allow her creativity to flourish again.

cry, cry but i don’t need my mother just hold my hand while i come on a decision on it

this line makes me think she will eventually open up to someone that will help her once she finally makes a decision.

which can be her dad. he’s been calling and asking her about it and she said it herself her dad is the person in her life she can count on.

i don't know how i’m meant to act with all of you lot, sometimes, i don’t try

she gets tired of trying to reach carmy so she just detaches herself to make it through the day. we see that happening in ‘doors’, ‘violet’ and ‘legacy’ where she just accepts his final words and moves on, even though she’s frustrated.

sooner or later, your legs give way, you hit the ground save it for later, don’t run away, don’t let me down

we see her reaching her lowest in the last episode. quite literally, her legs give way and she hit the ground, cause she’s been bottling up all these feelings for so long that she cannot hold it in anymore.

we see flashbacks in her mind showing the family she found in the restaurant, she saw them grow so much with her these past months, they’re her family and she doesn’t want to runaway and let them down.

don't run away, don't run away, don't run away x4

this part of the song you can feel the desperation on eddie's voice, it's not an easy decision to make, running away.

she doesn’t want to let anybody down. that’s her biggest fear. so she says she’s gonna think about chef adam’s offer, she nods in agreement when nat and cicero tells her to sign the partnership agreement. she agrees when pete says it’s a good thing cause she doesn’t want to let anybody down, she can’t. and this takes a toll on her we see manifest in her panic attack.

for the second part of the song is where my delusion swoops in lmaoo

now, as i said before, the person who’s she’s finally gonna open up about her struggles can be her dad, but reading the lyrics, makes me want it so bad to be carmy.

maybe im projecting too much, idk, but it really fits them so perfectly.

two dozen other stupid reasons why we should suffer for this? don't bother trying to explain them just hold my hand while I come to a decision on it

i don't know why, but these lines makes me imagine a scene where they’re finally talking about their feelings and she express her frustration with carmy for the past months, she talks about how leaving is the best decision objectively and gives him her reasons.

she seems set on finally making a decision, but she needs him to help her through it cause this is the hardest thing she ever had to do.

she’s letting him down and she’s running away because this is the best thing for her right now.

why don’t you hold me? why don't you and kiss me now? why don't you just hold me?

as a hardcore sydcarmy i’m holding out hope for that big sydcarmy fight that’s for sure coming the next season so that we can finally see how they react to one another when they finally say what they’ve been meaning to say all this time.

hold me and kiss me now run away, run away and let me down x4

in this final part of the song eddie's voice sounds like he came to acceptance that she's leaving. he just needs to hold and kiss her to see her out.

maybe carmy will understand her reasonings and will let her know it's okay for her to go and find better things for her and though i'm a firm believer she's not leaving in the end, i think this would be a nice alternative solution to her problem if it comes to it.

sydney's so afraid of letting everybody down that she never thought they might want her see her happy in other places and that that's okay to leave. i don't think she has considered this option yet.

anyways this is just my first analysis on it, i may have to revisit once i think more on it. i'd love to know if anyone has thoughts on it too, i'd love to read them!