#and she’s sweet and i think about her every single day

[flemingology]

kitbag chronicles ─ alessia russo x reader

in which: you voice your love for alessia through the notes you put in her kitbag

warnings: none, tiniest bit suggestive if you squint

wc: 1.4k

a/n: finally got around to writing something for my number 1. this is so incredibly random and it's all over the place, but idk i lowkey kinda like it... i think? idk i probably shouldn't reread it because i might hate it if i do. hope you enjoy!

Ever since you and Alessia started dating, the England striker had made it very clear that she loved the little things you did for her. Memorising her coffee order, remembering her favourite flowers, new scented candles in her favourite scent on a bi-weekly basis. If you asked Alessia, she would say you were the most thoughtful person she’d ever met.

You’d grown to love the smile you put on your girlfriend’s face with those small displays of affection. You were forever seeking new ways to show your love for her, without stating the obvious over and over again. It kept both of you on your toes, always working on your relationship and making the other fall in love with you over and over again.

The last couple weeks, you'd found something new to do for Alessia. Her busy schedule keeping her away from you almost every single day of the week, you had to find ways to work around it and to remind Alessia that, even when she was at the club, you were thinking about her.

Since a couple months, it had become a little tradition that you prepared Alessia's kitbag. It wasn't much work at all, all she put in there were a shirt and a pair of trousers, or shorts – based on what the weather was like that day in London. You insisted that you did it for her, claiming that that way you felt like she had a little part of you with her during the day.

Today, though, you felt like trying something different. When you were younger, your mum always prepared your lunchbox for when you went to school. To make it a little extra special, she always added a little note for you to discover when you had lunch. It could be something funny, a drawing or simply a reminder how much she loved you – you didn't mind the teasing that came with it from your friends.

You figured it would be something Alessia loved, seen how much she usually liked it when you did little things like that for her. So this morning, after putting the blonde's training top and trousers in her kitbag, you grabbed a note and started writing something down. You decided to keep it simple for your first time of doing this, something you knew would just give Alessia a little spring in her step for the rest of the day. "Go get em, Lessi. Can't wait to have you home with me again tonight," is what you decided on, quickly putting away the pen and putting the piece of paper in her bag before she could see what you were up to.

When Alessia left later that morning, you pushed her kitbag in her hands, as you did every day. With a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips and a quick hug, she was out the door with the promise of cooking together later that night. Love goes through the stomach, or whatever they say.

It was no longer than 30 minutes later when your phone chimed with a message from your blonde lover.

From: Less 🤍 I got the note, baby. So cute. I love you so much :')

You smiled brightly at your phone screen, a warm, fuzzy feeling coursing through you at the idea of Alessia opening her kitbag and finding the note. You quickly typed a message back to her, wanting her to read it before she inevitably had to get her day going at the training centre.

To: Less 🤍 It's true, though. Counting down the hours until you're home, like every day. Go kick ass, my love. x

With you working from home, it had been quite the adjustment. Normally, when Alessia went to the training centre, you'd also leave the apartment and be on your way to your office. But with Alessia's recent transfer to Arsenal, swapping Manchester for London, it wasn't so straightforward anymore for you to go into the office everyday. 2 hours 30 on the train or easily 4 hours by car, it just wasn't doable anymore for a daily job. So you and your boss agreed that you could work from home in London, with one visit to the office a month. You were forever grateful for the opportunity, very glad that you didn't have to find a new job in London, but it brought its hardships too.

Quite frankly, you grew quite bored at home. You had your work, and you always managed to fill the best part of 8 hours with whatever you had to do that day, but the house felt empty without Alessia. A new city, new surroundings, new apartment, you hadn't quite accustomed to it all yet and you hadn't failed to make it known to Alessia that you missed her terribly whenever she was out at training.

Nonetheless, you would never stand in the way between her and her career, it was just another obstacle that you two would have to face and manoeuvre around, but you were certain that you would navigate it perfectly. You had a strong relationship, and everyone around you would probably say that you were made for each other.

With the knowledge gathered that Alessia enjoyed her little note, you took it upon yourself to give her some more frequently. Not every day, because you didn't want her to grow old of them, but you sprinkled some in throughout the week – keeping her on her toes.

It wasn't until one particular morning at the Arsenal training centre that Alessia realized that her notes wouldn't just always be you loving up on her. She'd left you high and dry that morning before leaving, feeling you up and kissing all over your body until her alarm went off. She was reluctant about finishing what she had started, despite your whining when she left you alone in bed and had started getting ready for her day. She didn't want to be late, understandably, but she also left you with a very uncomfortable throbbing between your legs. Her promise of continuing her ministrations later that night hadn't really convinced you, and you decided to tease her a little about it through a note.

This time, unlike all the other times you'd left a note in Alessia's kitbag, you didn't receive a message about. Not just that, the Arsenal striker hadn't texted you all day and you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about what you did. You didn't want to push it too far, but you were starting to feel like you did. You texted her a little after lunch-time, wishing her a good gym session, but you got left on read.

Later that day, when Alessia came home, you were nervous to approach her. You were upstairs, finishing up on a couple of e-mails, before you went downstairs and joined the blonde who had plopped down on the couch and turned on the football. "Hi, baby," you said softly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Alessia tried to put on a sour face, but her resolve weakened quickly when you pressed another few kisses all over her face.

"That was mean, you know?" cocking her head at you, eyebrow raised and index finger pointing at you. You couldn't hide the smile that crept on your face. "Don't give me that, Russo! If anyone was mean, it was you. This morning. Leaving me all worked up like that," you reasoned, pointing your index finger right back at her, poking her nose in the process causing a small smile to form on her lips.

"You know what, you're probably right," your girlfriend started, leaning closer towards you and trapping your body in between her arms, positioning the two of you so she was hovering over you on the couch. "That was so incredibly unfair of me and I think it's only right that I get the opportunity to make it up to you."

Alessia dipped her head towards your neck and started pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on the skin there. You hummed and tangled one of your hands into her hair, slightly tugging when you could feel the scrape of her teeth on your sensitive skin. "You're lucky I love you, Russo," you breathed.

"Oh, I know. Now let me show you just how much I appreciate you, please."

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames- Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah in the know.

Warnings: 18+ only! Fluff, Angst, Smut (p in v), Adult language,

Authors note: Hey guys! Ugh I'm so sorry I made this like crazy long again and that it has been SO long betwen chapters. I've already sort of started working on Chapter 4 so hopefully I'll have it done soon. Anyways enjoy and feel free to message me if you have any requests xoxo.

9k words

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The warm sand felt soft against your feet, the gentle waves lapping at the shore. The sun was settling, casting a golden glow over everything. You were laughing, you don’t know what from, but Rafe was beside you, smiling, his eyes filled with softness. Rafe's arms wrapped tightly around you, holding you close as he spun you in slow circles, laughter mingling with the sound of the ocean. He pulled you closed, gently kissing your lips and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. You were dressed in white, almost like ghosts in a beautiful, ethereal world.

Rafe leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, “I want you forever Y/N. Even when I’m gone I’ll still be with you.”

Before you could respond, a loud powerful jarring sound shattered the peaceful scene. The scene faded away and turned black and you groaned and opened your eyes. You padded your bed around you searching for your phone trying to turn off your god-awful 7:30 am alarm. Early mornings are going to be the death of me, you thought.

You instinctively pulled your cover back over your head, dreading the day ahead. Dress shopping for midsummer’s… perfect. With only a week and a half to go, you already dreaded the thought of the superficial conversations that were bound to happen.

You try to hold onto the sweet memories of your dream but it is suddenly ruined when your mom yells down the hall.

“Y/N time to get up! We are already behind schedule, we are leaving in an hour for the boutique” 

You groaned, slamming your face into the pillow and then pulling yourself up to start preparing for the day. You can already imagine your mom with her cup of coffee in her hand criticizing every dress you pull off the rack. Your parents were very particular when it came to a lot of things but the main thing was presentation; they hated it when you dressed in “pogue” attire. Hence why dress shopping is so important to your mom, it validates to her that there is still hope for you. You rolled your eyes at the thought of her voice in your head but smiled, knowing it was easier to just go along with her sometimes.

-

The boutique was glowing with varying colors, patterns, and dress types; it was overwhelming. From rack to rack, your mother picked out various dresses and styles for you, ushering you to the changing room to try on every single one. 

You spent what felt like hours trying on dresses, in and out of the changing rooms, accumulating a small pile of maybes. Finally, as you were about to call it a day, your mom came over with a navy satin, backless dress with a bow detail. 

“Now I'm not a fan of the backless back but I do think the bow in the back ties it all together,” she said as you slipped it on. But when you turned to the mirror, the fit was perfect. It was the one. Scenarios played in your head on how Rafe would react seeing you in this dress, so tight fitting and revealing, you know it would make him ogle. 

“I agree Mom, this has to be it,”  you said smiling running your hands down the dress.

Your mom was about to respond when you felt goosebumps begin to rise on the back of your neck like someone was watching you.

You quickly glanced around in the mirror at the surrounding store as your eyes locked with Chris’s.

Oh god, you got to be kidding me, you thought. Out of all places, this is where you see him? He must be with his mom and sister or something. 

A twinge of nostalgia immediately began to coarse through you. You quickly looked away, pretending not to notice him, but of course, he noticed you—and began walking over, giving you his typical polite smile.

“Oh my gosh is that Christopher Phillips?!” Your mom whipped around, beaming with recognition. She practically jogged over to greet him, her eyes lighting up with that motherly approval. She quickly pulled him into a hug. “Christopher! How are you? Look at you, still as handsome as always!” 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, your mom failed to acknowledge boundaries sometimes. 

“Hello Mrs. Chastain, it is great to see you, you look fantastic!” he said as he pulled away, quickly glancing over at you as well.

“Oh please Christopher, call me Linda. You're still such a charmer. Anyway, Y/N is just trying on some dresses for Midsummer but I’ll let you old love birds catch up, I’ll just be right over there” She pointed to a random corner, and knowing her we would still be eye-shot. As I’ve said before… she is a huge fan of Chris.

As she eagerly waltzed away, Chris visibly got a bit nervous shoving his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat.

“Hey Y/N, uh, I wasn’t expecting to run into you, you look great,” he said gesturing to your dress, his voice carrying a hint of the awkwardness that hung over you guys even after the breakup.

“Yeah, Chris, good to see you too,” you said, keeping a neutral smile. The idea of catching up as old friends was tempting, but you could tell by his eyes that lingering feelings were still there, and you didn’t want to stir them up.

“So, are you going to Midsummer?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, I am. You?”

“Same,” he replied, nodding with a tight smile.

Silence settled between you. You were about to excuse yourself when he cleared his throat. “Are you… seeing anyone new?” he asked, his voice a bit too casual.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you forced a neutral expression. “Nope. You?” As you spoke, a flicker of guilt stirred. Rafe was still in the back of your mind, his presence lingering, tugging at the corners of your thoughts. The memory of his touch was enough to make you blush, but you couldn’t say any of that—not to Chris, and not to anyone else.

He hesitated, noticing your sudden change in demeanor, then shook his head. “Nope.” He looked away noticing your mom eagerly waiting with prying eyes,  “Anyway, it was good to see you, take care. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Yeah. See you around,” you said, relieved as he walked away. 

God that was so awkward

-

You stepped out of the boutique with your mom, your newly purchased dress slung over one arm. The bright afternoon sun made you squint, and you took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air after what felt like hours spent in stuffy fitting rooms.

"Well," your mom said, eyeing you with satisfaction, "now that we’ve got that settled, we can get on to the important things, like accessorizing.” She gave a little smile, seeming more pleased with you than usual.

You smiled, barely listening as your mind drifted back to your encounter with Chris. Why here, of all places? 

Just then, a familiar voice called out across the street. "Y/N! Hey, Y/N!"

You turned to see JJ striding over, his hands shoved casually in his pockets, but his expression lighting up when he saw you. As he reached you, his gaze darted between you and your mom, a flicker of mischief in his eyes as he took in your shopping bags.

“Oh,” your mom said, straightening, “this must be one of your…friends.” Her voice held that edge she always had when she saw you talking to Pogues. She gave him a quick, tight smile. "Well, Y/N, I'll just grab a coffee down the street. You two…catch up. I'll be waiting in the car." Her heels clicked against the pavement as she walked away, looking back just once before disappearing into the café.

Once she was gone, JJ grinned. “Nice to see I’m still charming the Kooks, as always.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “You have that effect.”

“So, what’s all this?” He pointed to the bags with a teasing smirk. “Getting ready for Midsummer? Gotta say, I never pictured you as the ‘princess of Kooklandia’ type.”

“Oh, very funny,” you said, nudging him. “Yes, it’s for Midsummers. My mom practically forced me to come out today.”

“Lucky me, running into you, then,” he said, shoving his hands back in his pockets and giving you an easy smile. “So, how’s it going? You look…like you’ve been through it.”

You shrugged, laughing a little, but your voice softened. “I actually just ran into Chris.”

JJ’s face fell, the teasing look replaced by concern. “Wait, Chris? Like…Chris Chris?”

“Yeah,” you replied, the awkwardness of it making you cringe all over again. “It was…strange. He was trying to be nice, but I don’t know. It just reminded me of how I’ve changed, you know?” 

JJ nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as if weighing his words. “Y/N, listen. Be careful with those Kook guys—no offense, but they can be a lot. And Chris…he’s bound to have feelings still, so just, you know…keep an eye out.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the intensity of his reaction. “JJ, he’s harmless. We were just talking.”

“Yeah, maybe,” JJ muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I don’t know. You’ve seemed kinda distant lately. Like…you’re around, but not. Got me worried, is all.”

Just as you were about to respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You glanced down, your pulse picking up slightly as Rafe’s name flashed across the screen.

Been thinking about you. What are you up to? The message was simple but meant everything, and you couldn’t stop the faint smile that crept onto your face as you typed back a quick reply, your heart beating just a little faster. 

JJ’s voice snapped you out of the moment. “Uh-oh,” he said, smirking as he watched your expression shift. “That look’s usually reserved for the extra-rich Kooks.”

You quickly pocketed your phone, fighting to keep your expression neutral. “What look?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Y/N. I may not be a Kook, but I know you well enough to see when something’s got you all…happy like that.”

You let out a laugh, shrugging it off. “It’s nothing. Just someone I know.”

JJ gave you a curious look, his playful smirk softening as he studied you. “Well, whoever it is, I hope they’re good enough for you. Just don’t go getting lost in Kooklandia too long. Us Pogues kinda need you”

The genuine concern in his eyes made your heart twist slightly, and you nodded, touched by his words. “I won’t, JJ. Promise.”

A flash of relief crossed his face, and he returned your smile with a lopsided grin, nudging you playfully. “Alright, princess, get out of here before your mom thinks I’m corrupting you or something.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you said goodbye, his words lingering in your mind as you headed to the car.  

-

During dress shopping earlier, your phone had buzzed with a text from Sarah, asking if you wanted to hang out. She went on about an argument she’d had with Topper, making it sound both dramatic and all too familiar. You’d texted back, agreeing to come over once shopping was done, already bracing yourself for whatever rant awaited you.

Your mom is currently driving to the Cameron's residence as she droned on about Midsummer's etiquette and the importance of making a good impression.

“Don’t worry, honey, I’ll pick you up in a few hours. We can get lunch and talk more about Midsummers,” she said as she unlocked the car. But her phone buzzed just as she opened the door. She glanced at it, frowning.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” She sighed, her voice turning business-like. “They need me at the hospital honey. I’m so sorry, would you be able to grab a ride home.”

“Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, Mom, I understand. I’ll ask Sarah if she can drive me,” you replied, secretly grateful for the change of plans. You’d had enough of Midsummer's talk to last a lifetime.

She gave you a sympathetic smile, and as you shut the passenger door, you watched her drive away, feeling relieved. But that feeling quickly gave way to nerves as you noticed Rafe’s truck parked in front of the house. Of course, he’d be here,you thought, trying to keep your pulse steady.

Once your mom was out of sight, you made your way up the Cameron's all-too-familiar staircase. You hadn’t been here since that night—when you’d drunkenly found yourself in Rafe’s room. The memories flickered back, and you thought you caught a faint hint of his cologne lingering in the air. You passed by his door, stealing a glance, but it was empty, the bed neatly made. Maybe he’s out with Topper or Kelce by the pool, you mused, trying to shake the thrill of knowing he was nearby.

Reaching Sarah’s room, you barely had time to knock before she flung open the door, grabbing your arm and pulling you onto the bed beside her. “Finally!” she exclaimed, tossing her phone onto the bed as she settled in next to you. “You have no idea how badly I needed to see you today.”

“Really?” you laughed, stretching out beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Ugh, where do I even start?” She let out a dramatic sigh, flopping back against her pillows. “The guys are outside right now, so I can’t be too loud, but Topper and I had the stupidest argument last night. He gets jealous of everything—it’s unreal. Sometimes I think he’s the insecure one, not me! He saw me talking with John B near the docks and now he’s convinced I’m sneaking around behind his back!”

Your eyebrows shot up. “John B?” That was news to you. John B and Sarah had never shown much interest in each other before—or at least, not that you’d noticed.

Sarah nodded, biting her lip with a mischievous smile. “Yeah, he and I talked a bit last week, and honestly, I kind of liked it. He’s so…different from Topper, you know? But I swear, I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. Topper just freaked out and, ugh, it’s such a mess.”

You couldn’t help but imagine how the Pogues would react if they knew about Sarah’s budding friendship with John B. It was complicated enough with your friendship with them, let alone…well, your situation with Rafe. The Pogues wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to know you were sneaking around with the one person they despised most.

“Wow,” you said, trying to sound casual. “I just can’t picture John B with a Kook like…well, like us, honestly.”

Sarah laughed, rolling her eyes. “I know, right? It’s complicated.”

“Speaking of complicated…” you began, realizing you hadn’t yet told her about the day’s chaos. “I ran into Chris today.”

Her eyes widened, surprise flashing across her face. “Chris? No way. How did that go?”

You gave her a tight smile. “Awkward, mostly. He was…polite, I guess, but I could tell there was something else. I don’t think he’s over it. He even asked if I was seeing anyone new.”

Sarah groaned, shaking her head. “Classic Chris. He’s just trying to find an excuse to come back into your life.”

“Maybe,” you admitted, “but I had to lie and say no. And that made it even worse because…”

You paused, hesitating. Sarah propped herself up on her elbow, eyes narrowing. “Because what?”

You took a deep breath, feeling your pulse quicken. “Because I snuck out with Rafe last night.”

Sarah’s eyes went wide, and a slow smile spread across her face. “Oh my god, what? Go on!”

“He came to my house, tapping on my window like a total maniac.” You laughed at the memory, but your voice softened as you remembered what had happened next. “We ended up going for ice cream and walking on the pier. He…he told me he wanted to try with me, you know? Like, actually give it a shot. And I said yes, Sarah. I told him I liked him.”

Sarah’s expression shifted, a mix of excitement and caution. “Wow…okay, so this is getting serious, huh?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, feeling a flutter of nervousness at her words. “It feels…different.”

Sarah sighed, looking at you with a gentle but wary smile. “I get it. Rafe can surprise you sometimes. But be careful, Y/N. He’s my brother, and I love him, but…he can be unpredictable.”

“I know,” you replied, grateful for her understanding. “But right now, I just…I don’t know. I feel happy.”

Just then, a familiar voice drifted through the open window from the backyard, and your stomach did a flip. Rafe’s unmistakable laugh mixed with Topper and Kelce’s voices, the sound sending a thrill through you.

Sarah noticed, smirking. “He’s right out there, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Ugh, I know. But we’re trying to keep things secret, remember?”

“Sure, sure,” she teased, winking.

You both laughed, and the conversation drifted to other things. But as you glanced out the window, you saw Rafe and the guys heading inside, his attention focused on his phone. Sarah’s voice faded into the background as you heard him walk through the house and up the stairs, heart thudding as you wondered if he might notice you.

Excusing yourself with a quick “I got to go to the bathroom,” you slipped out of Sarah’s room, making your way quietly down the hall. Just as you rounded the corner, you nearly collided with Rafe, who looked up in surprise, his lips curving into that familiar smirk.

“Whoa, well this is a surprise, what are you doing around here, pretty girl?” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Sneaking into my house just to see me?”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your smile. “I’m best friends with your sister, dumbass. You’re the one who’s supposed to be downstairs with your friends.”

Rafe leaned casually against the wall, his hair still damp and tousled from the pool, water droplets catching on his tan skin, his arms toned and relaxed. He flashed you that familiar, mischievous grin. “Kelce and Topper just headed out, so I guess that leaves us. Think you can handle it?”

Your heart skipped a beat as he closed the space between you, the playful glint in his eyes making it clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

You opened your mouth to answer, but his hand was already reaching for yours, pulling you into his room. The familiar thrill of being this close, in a place where you could be caught any second by Ward or Rose, made your pulse race.

“You know,” he murmured sitting on his bed pulling you between his legs, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Yeah?” You tried to keep your voice steady running your hand down his chest, even as your heart raced. “What about me?”

He chuckled softly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “Everything. The way you laugh, the way you look at me…” He paused, leaning in just enough that you could feel his breath against your skin. “The way you make it really hard to keep my hands off you.”

You swallowed, feeling the warmth spread through you. “Who said you have to?”

A slow grin spread across his face leaning in to capture a kiss, and for a moment, everything else faded away—the house, Sarah, the risks of being caught. It was just the two of you.

But then, footsteps echoed from the stairwell, and you both sprang apart, glancing nervously down the hall. Rafe gave you a quick wink, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Rose’s voice called down the hall, clear and firm. “Sarah! Rafe! Y/N! Dinner’s ready!”

Rafe pulled back, his lips just inches from yours, his playful expression turning to one of frustration. “Of course,” he muttered, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Before you could respond, Sarah’s footsteps sounded from the other side of the hall, followed by a quick knock on the bathroom door down the hall. “Hey Y/N dinner’s ready! Rafe, dinners ready. Come on, let’s go!”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, smirking as he glanced at you. Then, with his best impression of an annoyed brother, he called out, “I’ll be down in a few, Sarah!”

Satisfied, Sarah’s footsteps faded down the stairs, and in an instant, Rafe’s arms pulled you back toward him. His lips found yours again, the urgency even stronger now.  The thrill of secrecy rushed through you as his fingers tangled in your hair, his touch somehow gentle and desperate at the same time.

“Alright, you really need to go now,” he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with reluctance.

“You don’t make it easy,” you murmured, smiling against his lips. Finally, you pulled back, running a hand through your hair as you gathered yourself, fixing your clothes.

Taking a deep breath, you slipped out of his room, glancing over your shoulder one last time to see him watching you with that signature smirk. 

-

When you entered the dining room, the Cameron family was gathered around the table, and Rose flashed you a warm smile. Sarah was already seated, chatting with Wheezie, who was recounting some story with animated hand gestures. You slipped into the seat between Sarah and Rose, offering a polite smile to Ward as he nodded in greeting.

“Glad you could join us, Y/N,” Ward said, his tone warm. “We don’t get to see you around here often enough.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Cameron,” you replied, feeling a bit more at ease as Rafe entered the room and took the seat across from you. His expression was casual, but the glint of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. As he sat down, his foot tapped against your thigh under the table, and your cheeks flushed.

Dinner began with light conversation, Rose asking about school, and Ward making polite inquiries about your family. The food was excellent, and for a while, you settled into the cozy atmosphere, almost able to ignore Rafe’s occasional gaze across the table and the flutter it stirred in you.

“So, Y/N,” Rose began, setting down her fork and smiling at you with that piercing, Kook-perfect smile. “I’m assuming you’ll be going to Midsummers? Did you end up finding a dress?”

“Oh, uh, yes! Just today, actually,” you replied, hoping to sound casual despite your racing heart.

She nodded approvingly. “Wonderful! Midsummers is such an important event, especially for making connections. Do you have a date lined up yet?”

The question caught you off guard, and you took a quick sip of water, trying to keep calm. “Not yet,” you replied, glancing down at your plate to avoid looking at Rafe.

“Oh, what about that young man you were seeing before?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “What was his name? Chris, right?

The mention of his name made both you and Sarah choke on your drinks at the same time. Sarah quickly recovered, covering her laughter with a cough, but your cheeks burned as you struggled to respond.

“Oh, uh, we’re…we’re not together anymore,” you managed, giving Rose a small, tight smile. You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, though you didn’t dare look up. 

Rose’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. “Oh, I see. Well, no matter. I’m sure you’ll find a date—someone with a good head on his shoulders,” she added, her gaze lingering a bit too long on Rafe as if expecting him to say something.

Rafe cleared his throat, his expression unreadable as he casually picked at his food. “I’m sure Y/N will be the best-dressed one there,” he said smoothly, his tone calm but laced with a subtle edge. The mention of Chris hadn’t gone unnoticed, and a hint of jealousy flickered in his eyes.

The comment hung in the air for a moment before Ward chuckled, drawing the attention back to himself. “Well, I thinkit’s great that you’ll be attending, Y/N. Midsummers is a special event. It really brings out the best in everyone.”

“Yes, sir. My family is excited about it—it’s all my mom has been talking about,” you replied, chuckling as you offered Ward a polite smile, eager to steer the conversation away from your love life, especially with one of the culprits sitting directly across from you. 

-

As the meal continued, Rose turned her attention to Sarah, her smile a little too fixed as she asked, “So, Sarah, I heard you were spotted down at the docks last week with…what’s his name? John B?”

The question dropped into the conversation like a stone, and Sarah froze, her fork hovering mid-air. You felt your pulse quicken as you glanced over at her, sensing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Oh, that?” Sarah laughed, shrugging nonchalantly. “We just ran into each other. It was nothing.” She was doing her best to act casual, but you could tell Rose wasn’t convinced.

“Well, it just seems like���an unusual friendship, doesn’t it?” Rose remarked, her voice light, though her eyes were sharp and watchful. 

“Considering his father’s…reputation.”

Sarah’s jaw tightened as she replied evenly, “John B’s not like that. He just…runs with a different group of people, that’s all.”

Ward set his glass down, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s true. John B’s worked well with us, especially on the boats. He’s shown some responsibility.” He paused, looking between you and Sarah. “But I’d hate for either of you to get caught up in their habits—like sneaking around and stretching the truth. It’s just not the kind of influence we want for you two.”

You exchanged a quick, uneasy glance with Sarah, sensing that Ward’s words held more weight than they seemed to on the surface. The underlying warning was clear.

Rose’s attention shifted to you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “And you, Y/N, seem to spend quite a bit of time with the Pogues, don’t you?” she asked, gesturing lightly. “How would you describe their…character?”

The question hung in the air, and you could feel the unspoken judgment. You hesitated, thinking about how to explain it without stirring more suspicion. “They’re…genuine,” you said slowly, choosing your words carefully. “They’re rough around the edges, maybe, but they’re loyal, and they don’t pretend to be something they’re not.” You looked down, aware of Ward and Rose’s scrutiny. “They’re just good people, in their own way.”

Rafe cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Come on, Rose, it’s just a friendship,” he said, his tone casual yet carrying a hint of protectiveness as he glanced at you. “It’s not like either of them are running off with the Pogues and getting into trouble.”

Ward’s silence lingered, his frown subtle but clear. “It’s not the friendships themselves that concern me,” he said at last, eyes settling on Sarah and then you, “but the sneaking around and secrets. That’s what’s…disappointing.”

-

Just as the conversation drifted back to more mundane topics, Ward turned his attention to you. “Actually, Y/N, there’s something I wanted to ask you about. Your father’s company—he does business in real estate, right?”

Caught off guard, you nodded. “Uh, yes. He’s got some investments around the area.”

Ward nodded thoughtfully, his expression unreadable. “Interesting. I heard he’s been expanding into some new developments recently, some pretty big projects.”

You sensed there was more to his curiosity than casual interest, and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe’s gaze sharpened. What was Ward getting at?

“Yeah, I think he’s been working on a few,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though you felt a prickle of unease. Your dad had mentioned some big investments lately, but he was always cagey about the details.

Ward gave a satisfied nod, swirling his glass thoughtfully. “It’s good to hear. The market around here’s always shifting, and it’s smart to have eyes on it.”

“Exactly,” Rose chimed in, shooting Ward a supportive glance. “Families that know how to work with each other tend to do better in the long run, don’t they, Ward?”

You nodded politely, feeling Ward’s intent but still uncertain about the details. What exactly was he interested in?

“Tell him he should swing by sometime,” Ward added casually as if it were an afterthought. “We could go over some ideas, and talk business. Who knows, might be a win-win for both of us.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, keeping your tone neutral. “I’ll let him know.”

Ward nodded with a pleased smile, raising his glass in a small toast. “To partnerships,” he said, giving you a look that seemed almost fatherly.

You nodded politely, feeling Ward’s intent but still uncertain about the details. What exactly was he interested in?

-

Dinner was winding down as everyone began clearing dishes from the table and bringing them to the kitchen. Rose stood at the window, watching the heavy raindrops pelting down outside, her brows knitting together in mild concern.

“Oh, it’s really coming down out there,” she said, glancing back toward you. “Y/N, you have a way to get home, right?I’d hate for you to get caught in this.”

You hesitated, unsure how to respond as Sarah chimed in. “I was going to take her, but I, uh…let Topper use my car earlier.” Her eyes flicked toward you and Rafe, her mouth twisting into a half-smile as if she could sense the tension brewing.

“Oh, that’s no problem,” Ward said, looking over at Rafe, who was lounging casually on the couch in the other room, scrolling through his phone. “Rafe, why don’t you take Y/N home? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

The suggestion hung in the air for a moment. You and Rafe exchanged brief glances, each of you caught off guard, but Rafe recovered quickly, nodding with a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, I can take her,” he replied, his tone nonchalant, though his gaze lingered on you a second longer than necessary.

Rose beamed slightly taken aback by his sudden willingness. “Wonderful! Thank you, Rafe.”

Excitement and nervousness coursed through you knowing you would get alone time with Rafe without anyone suspecting anything.

-

Your heart thumped as you ran upstairs to grab your bag and then you said goodbyes to the Camerons. Ward remindingyou again to talk to your father about the business deal and Rose just telling you to tell your mom hi. 

Rafe grabbed his keys, and after a quick farewell to Rose and Ward, he led you outside, holding the door for you as you climbed into his truck, his eyes glinting with something you couldn’t quite place. The rain continued to pour down, droplets hitting the windshield in a steady rhythm that enveloped you both.

As Rafe pulled out of the driveway, silence filled the space between you, his fingers drummed on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched just enough to hint that something was bothering him.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but edged with something deeper. “So…looks like you got stuck with me .”

You chuckled, glancing over at him. “Guess I am.”

He shot you a sidelong look, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t seem like you mind too much.”

“Maybe I don’t,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “maybe we can finish what we started earlier” your hand resting on the seat between you.

His gaze flicked down to your hand, and then back to the road, dodging your flirty comment. “Seems like Chris came up a lot tonight,” he muttered, his tone casual but carrying a distinct note of tension. 

Oh gosh is this what was making him so bothered, you thought

You glanced at him, feeling your heart pick up pace. “Well, it was Rose who brought him up,” you said softly, sensing that this was more than a casual comment.

Rafe nodded, a small frown crossing his face as he kept his gaze on the road. After a moment, you hesitated but felt it better to be honest. “Actually…I ran into him earlier today. At the boutique.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his expression hardening. “You ran into him?”

You sighed and nodded, feeling the familiar tug of conflict. “It was nothing, Rafe. Just…awkward. He tried to make conversation, and he asked if I was seeing anyone. I told him I wasn’t because…well because we’re supposed to keep this between us.”

Rafe’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, his jaw flexing. “So…he thinks you’re single, then?”

You glanced at him, taken aback by the edge in his tone. “Rafe, it’s not like that.”

“But it sounds like it,” he shot back, his voice soft but insistent. “I don’t like the idea of him thinking he’s got a chance when he doesn’t.”

You looked away, raising your own voice caught off guard by his intensity. “Well, what do you want me to do? Tell him I’m secretly seeing someone who…hasn’t even asked me to be his girlfriend?”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted it, resituating yourself in your seat glancing out the window, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

Rafe’s eyes flickered with surprise, then softened as he pulled the truck over to the side of the road a block from your house, rain pattering loudly on the roof. He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “Do you…want that?”

Your breath caught, and you forced yourself to meet his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes almost broke you, “Maybe I do,” you said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “But I’m not ready to put a label on it just yet, I like this sneaking around”

A smirk played on his lips as he leaned in, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Fine by me. But you’re still mine, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And if I see Chris—or anyone—try to touch you, it won't go unnoticed” His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. 

A shiver ran down your spine at the intensity in his voice, but a warmth spread through you at the same time. “Rafe, you know I’m not interested in anyone else.”

“Good,” he whispered, his hand moving to cradle your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek and your lip. “Because I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“You’ve wanted this for a long time Cameron?” a smile tugging on your lips, “I always knew you had a thing for me.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he muttered, his lips curving into a smile as he leaned in.

You felt everything fade away as he pressed his lips to yours, the rain still hammering down. You melted into him, your hands threading into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his grip on you tightening as if he couldn’t get enough. The intensity between you grew, each kiss more urgent than the last, and before you knew it, he was pulling you over onto his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist to hold you close.

You could feel the heat radiating between you, your breaths mingling as he kissed you with a hunger that made your head spin. His hands traced along your back, drawing you closer, as he whispered, “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know that?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words making your heart pound as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back and he began to kiss down your neck hitting your soft spot. “Rafe…” you moaned out.

“And if I see any guy even thinking about getting too close…” He trailed off, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, a possessive glint in his eye. “I’ll remind you exactly who you belong to.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you captured his lips in another kiss, feeling the heat between you building. 

“Rafe,” you breathed between kisses, “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Good,” he whispered, his voice rough as his hands explored you, pulling you closer. “Because I don’t think I could stop, even if I tried.”

He held you close, his lips moving from your mouth to your jaw, then along your neck, each touch igniting sparks across your skin. You felt as though you were lost in him, the way he looked at you as though you were the only person in the world.

“I can’t wait to see you in that Midsummers dress,” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation, his hands lingering at your waist. “I can only imagine how good you’ll look.”  he continues to whisper, “and how good it'll be when I take it off and fuck you.”

His words made you blush, a smile playing on your lips as you gazed at him. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

He grinned, capturing your mouth again in a kiss that was anything but patient, his hands roaming up your back, pulling you closer. Without thinking, your fingers drifted to the buttons on his shirt, fumbling slightly as you began to undo them, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your hands. He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening as you pushed the shirt off his shoulders, running your hands over the hard lines of his chest. 

You pull away quickly, and Rafe can sense your reason for hesitation.

“Don’t worry, baby. It’s raining so hard, and my windows are too tinted,” he says confidently, immediately going back to attacking your neck.

Rafe’s hand slipped under your shirt, tugging it off with a swift motion, his fingers exploring the newly exposed skin with an intensity that left you breathless. His hands cupped your breasts, and you shivered at the sensation.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips pressing against your collarbone as he pulled you flush against him. His mouth left a trail of fire along your skin, kisses becoming more insistent as he marked you with small bites—a silent declaration that you were his.

Your hands drifted down, fingers skimming over his toned chest before finding the waistband of his shorts. You felt his body tense under your touch, his breath hitching, eyes darkening with a fierce, barely restrained desire as he looked down at you.

“Careful,” he whispered, his voice low, almost a warning. But the challenge in his gaze made it impossible for you to hold back. You pressed 

closer, letting him know you were just as ready for this as he was. 

You locked eyes with him, a smirk playing on your lips as you took your time grinding your hips down, feeling his hardness beneath you. Rafe let out a low groan, his hands instinctively gripping your waist, urging you to move. His grip tightened, one hand sliding over your thigh and pulling you closer, making you roughen the kiss as his touch neared the edge of your skirt.

A shiver ran through you as Rafe’s hand inched along your inner thigh, each slow movement sparking anticipation. When his fingers brushed over your panties, you caught your breath, your heart pounding as he pulled the fabric to the side. His fingers found your warm, wet center, and he sighed against your mouth, his arousal pressing insistently against you.

A low moan escaped your lips as his fingers entered you, the roughness of his touch making you grip his seat for support. You’d craved this feeling, the way only Rafe could make you lose yourself, and every lingering memory of your first night together flooded back, more intense than ever.

You let your lips drift down to his neck, biting and sucking as you went, intent on leaving a visible reminder. Your body was moving on instinct, grinding against his hand as he picked up the pace, each thrust of his fingers igniting you further. When he angled his fingers just right, your body tensed, and a choked gasp escaped you, urging him on as he went deeper.

You rocked your hips against his hand, feeling the pressure building, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. The pleasure built steadily until you felt it crest, your entire body shuddering as you surrendered to the intensity of it. The truck windows fogged up, trapping the warmth between you as the rain pattered on the roof outside.

Rafe’s fingers slowed, coaxing the last waves of pleasure from you, and you moaned softly, holding tightly to his arm. Just when you were catching your breath, he slipped his fingers out, leaving you with an ache at the sudden emptiness.

With a sly smirk, Rafe reached down, pulling his boxers lower to reveal himself to you. The sight made you bite your lip, but he didn’t leave you much time to dwell on it; his hands tugged at your hips, guiding you over to your knees. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom and tore it open, sliding it on in one smooth motion.

Breathless with anticipation, you steadied yourself above him, slowly lowering your hips as Rafe guided you down. A gasp escaped both of you as he filled you completely, the world around you fading away as you moved together, lost entirely in each other.

As he entered you, a shared moan echoed between you, raw and unfiltered. “Holy shit, you’re so perfect,” Rafe breathed, his head falling back, his voice laced with awe.

He leaned forward, capturing your mouth with his, his breath mingling with yours as he deepened the kiss, sending a rush of pleasure straight through you.

You began to move, adjusting to his size. Each new rise and fall brought a wave of intensity that heightened your pleasure. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you as you took him in fully, and you wondered if his fingers might leave marks. 

Your own hands curled around his arms for support, gripping tighter each time he filled you, your bodies falling perfectly in sync.

As you grew more comfortable, your pace quickened, driven by the sheer pleasure that neither of you could hold back.

“Rafe…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you began to falter, feeling yourself edging closer. No one had ever made you feel this way before, and you could sense you wouldn’t last much longer, each movement pushing you closer to the brink of release.

“You just feel so good. You’re so perfect, princess,” he murmured, trailing kisses down your neck and onto your breasts. With each thrust, he guided your movements, pulling you down harder onto his lap, as if channeling the jealousy he’d felt over Chris into each motion.

Rafe’s arm tightened around your waist, drawing you in deeper, the pressure becoming almost unbearable in the most addictive way. The sound of your pleasure filled the small space, mingling with the sound of the rain pounding against the truck. You swore that if it weren’t raining so hard, anyone nearby would hear the sounds of your moans. Soft whimpers and moans spilled from your lips as Rafe continued, making you completely his. He groaned, his voice low and rough, as your moans nearly sent him over the edge.

You were lost in the rhythm of it all, overwhelmed by the sensations as you neared your peak once more. Rafe’s thrusts became more intense, and you felt the tightening of your walls around him, a telltale sign that you were on the brink.

“Rafe!” you gasped, feeling your climax wash over you in waves, pulling a deep moan from your throat. “I want you so bad,” you murmured, 

“Come inside me, baby…” Your words seemed to ignite something in him, his eyes widening as he watched your body react, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close as he thrust deeper.

You could hardly breathe, your body trembling as the overwhelming pleasure intensified. It felt like you were floating, the world outside fading until only he remained—his touch, his heat, the way he made you feel. Rafe groaned, a low, desperate sound as he felt your walls tighten around him, his own release fast approaching.

With a final thrust, he buried himself deeper, his hips moving sloppily as his climax took over. His hands gripped your waist as he moaned against your skin, his lips finding your chest as he rode out the last waves of pleasure. For a moment, both of you remained still, panting as you caught your breath, hearts racing in unison.  Rafe whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you caught your breath, Rafe fixing your hair.

“You okay pretty girl?” he asked leaning in to kiss you.

“More than okay, Rafe,” you say between kisses, smiling more and more. You swear you've never felt so happy.

You pull back slightly, and he does too, your eyes meeting in a moment of vulnerability. You can't quite put your finger on why kissing him feels so different—so much better— so right.

You kiss him once more, instantly melting into his warm touch. You want to stay in his arms forever until your moment is interrupted by the buzzing of a phone. You glance over and it's Rafe's phone on the dashboard, Dad.

Rafe answered the call, his voice shifting to a more serious tone. “Hey, Dad,” he said, leaning slightly away from you as he focused on the conversation. You watched as his expression darkened, his jaw tightening at whatever his father was saying.

“I told you I’d handle it,” Rafe snapped, frustration evident in his tone. You could see the tension building as he rubbed a hand over his face. “No, I’m fine. Just… give me a minute. Just dropped Y/N off. I drove extra slow since the rain was so bad.”

Your heart sank as you realized your time together was slipping away. Rafe looked back at you, his expression apologetic, but you could see the stress brewing in his eyes. “I have to go. I’ll call you later, Dad” he said, clearly trying to wrap up the conversation.

You sat back slightly, feeling the warmth of your earlier intimacy fade, trying to give him space while the weight of the moment lingered between you.

Rafe ended the call and exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry about that. My dad’s being… well, you know how he is. Just pissed off about some investment bullshit,” he said, frustration still etched on his face.

“It’s fine,” you replied, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt. “Family stuff comes first.”

“Yeah, but I was really enjoying… this,” he said, with a smirk on his face but his voice still lingering with regret.

“Me too,” you admitted.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and for a moment, everything felt perfect again. “Let’s go do something this week, okay? I’ll take you out on a real date.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, promising more to come.

You nodded eagerly, giving him another soft kiss, cupping his cheeks as you savored the moment.

He helped you swiftly off him, both of you collecting your scattered clothing and attempting to put it back on correctly.

“I should get you home before your dad starts worrying,” Rafe said reluctantly, the reality of the situation settling over you both.

You nodded, feeling a mix of disappointment and understanding that this moment together was ending. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Rafe started up his truck, creeping closer to your house. He pulled over in front of your home and parked.

As you climbed out of the truck and into the pouring rain, Rafe came over to the other side and offered you his hoodie to protect you from the rain. You swiftly put it on, feeling its warmth envelop you.

“Do you want me to walk you to the door?” he asked, his eyes searching yours, finding any reason to spend more time with you.

You didn’t really have a choice but to nod. “Yeah, that’d be great,” you replied, a flicker of anxiety rushed through you at the thought of getting caught but it out to be rainy and dark enough, no one could make out his figure.

As he walked you to your front door, you said a quick, discreet goodbye, not wanting to raise any flags or cause your dad to look out the window. You took one last glance at him, watching him walk back to his truck, his shoulders slightly hunched against the rain.

As you slipped inside, your heart raced as you stood in the hallway, the familiar sounds of your home bringing you back to reality as you tried to shake off the lingering adrenaline from your time with Rafe.

“Y/N?” your dad called from the living room, pulling you out of your thoughts. You took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself as you approached.

“Hey, Dad,” you replied, forcing a casual tone. He was sitting on the couch, the TV flickering in the dim light.

“Where have you been? You got home a little late,” he said, looking up at you and the clock with a hint of concern.

“Oh, I was just with Sarah,” you said quickly. “Her brother drove me home since she didn’t have her car.” The words felt slippery, but you hoped they’d hold.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly gauging your sincerity. “Okay, just make sure you’re careful out there, especially with the rain coming down so hard.”

You nodded, relieved that he seemed to accept your explanation. “I will, Dad. I promise.”

He glanced at the hoodie now draped on your arm, his brow furrowing slightly. “That’s a nice hoodie. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I just borrowed it,” you replied, trying to sound casual as you fiddled with the fabric. “I got cold, so… you know how it is.”

Your dad nodded but remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “Just remember honey, I worry about you, sometimes I don’t know if you’re out with those pogues or not. I’d rather you be safe than sorry.”

“Of course,” you said, forcing a smile to reassure him. “I’m always careful Dad, I promise.”

He smiled back, his worry easing a bit. “Good. Now go wash up and get some rest. You’ve had a long day. I love you”

“Okay, night Dad, love you too,” you said but right before you headed up the stairs you turned around, “Oh Dad, Ward Cameron wanted to meet with you about some business investment stuff” 

He simply chuckled and said “Okay” before you continued heading up the stairs towards your bedroom.

Once back in your room, you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in the pillow as a muffled scream escaped—equal parts frustration and exhilaration. The adrenaline started to fade and the memories of Rafe’s touch, his kisses, and that promise of a real date whirled through your mind, making it hard to catch your breath. Excitement buzzed through your veins, filling you with a warmth that felt as surreal as it was intoxicating.

None of tonight felt real.

You could still feel the comforting weight of his arms around you, and his hoodie was still curled up in your arms, smelling strongly of his cologne—a lingering reminder of everything that had happened.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Reaching over, you saw a message from Kiara.

Hey, Y/N! The Pogues and I are hitting the beach tomorrow. The waves are supposed to be crazy good. Wanna come?

A grin crept across your face as you quickly typed a reply.

Oh, hell yes! That sounds perfect!

But as soon as you hit send, another notification flashed across your screen. This time, it was your manager, Lance.

Hey Y/N! I’m so sorry it’s late, but could you pick up a morning shift tomorrow? We’re short-staffed, and I could reallyuse your help!

Your heart sank as you rolled your eyes in frustration. Taking an early shift meant skipping the beach day you’d just agreed to. You hesitated, caught between the thought of spending time with the pogues or actually making some money.

With a reluctant sigh, you typed out a response to Lance,

Sure! What time?

Then, biting your lip, you shot a follow-up message to Kiara.

Shit, Ki, I’m so sorry! My manager just asked me to work tomorrow morning, so I’ll have to miss out. But maybe I can meet up later?

After a few seconds, you saw Kiara’s text bubble pop up.

Ugh, bummer. Don’t let those Kooks work you too hard! We’ll be at the Chateau if you wanna swing by later. I’ll even save you a drink. Plus, we have some stuff to catch you up on.

You tossed your phone on the bed with a sigh, the weight of the skipping out kind of making you upset but you’ve called off so many shifts these past few weeks. Plus you know there will be a party this week to make up for lost time. You kicked off your shoes and pulled the covers over you. Your body was utterly exhausted.

As you settled into bed, Butters, your cat, jumped up and curled himself beside you, purring contentedly. You ran your fingers through his soft fur, letting the rhythm of his purring lull you into a sense of calm.

"I hate skipping out on the Pogues," you muttered to Butters, who responded with a contented purr. "But, hey, at least I won’t be broke."

You sighed, snuggling into the covers and letting the warmth of your cat and the quiet of the room start to ease your mind. Just as you were starting to drift off, a new notification buzzed on your phone.

You picked it up, blinking at the screen in surprise.

Goodnight beautiful

A small smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the text. You couldn’t help the flutter in your chest, even though you knew you'd have to face the consequences of whatever you were getting yourself into with Rafe. For now, though, you let the words settle in and your exhaustion wins, letting sleep pull you under.

--——----------————- ❥・-------------------------

Taglist: @rafesno1bae, @drewsphswife, @maybankslover

[sweetsaladpainterranch]

The Rival (Chapter 4)

(Summary: Alastor sought to possess one of the only does in Pentagram City for the rut season, however, you wanted a mate, not a master. But what happens when a handsome new buck shows up one day and tries to capture your attention away from the Radio Demon. Who will you choose?)

<Be aware that there are mentions of Sexual Abuse and slight gore in this chapter>

***

You could see nothing. Where once there was a seemingly paralyzed Alastor standing in front of a smirking James, there was now a swirling vortex of alive blackness that had completely overtaken the two men. You and Husk could only watch helplessly from the back porch as the fate of the duel was decided privately, but…Alastor couldn’t actually lose, right?

“Fuck, I didn’t think the boss would actually pull out the spectral tunnel!”, Husk mumbled, “ain’t seen that smoky bitch in almost a decade.”

“Guys!?”, A distraught Charlie and an irate Vaggie suddenly appeared and shouted from the back door, “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?? WHY IS THE SKY OVER THE HOTEL COMPLETELY BLACK?!” You thought the princess might actually have a panic attack if she didn’t start breathing as she continued to take in her back garden. She looked towards you and Husk questioningly and you shamefully replayed the morning’s events beginning with Alastor catching you making out with the newest tenant and ending with the swirling black void being the product of the buck’s fight.

“You’ve got to stop them, Charlie!”, you stepped towards the princess with imploring eyes and shook her by the shoulders, “They’re going to kill each other!”

Vaggie quickly moved your hands away so that the shaken princess could stabilize herself and hand off her red suit jacket. Rolling up the sleeves of her dress shirt and muttering something about not taking shit from other demons or some nonsense, Charlie strutted off in the direction of her hotelier’s spectral twister with a determined expression. However, before your, now demonic-looking leader, reached the terrifying shadow manifestation it disappeared completely and left only an undisturbed Alastor holding up a very tired, but otherwise unscathed, looking James.

…

A day later things had already changed dramatically at the Hazbin Hotel. Firstly, you had expected Alastor to jump at the chance that his win over James granted him and take you deep within his bayou den. However, he simply declared that he was no longer worthy of being your mate and asked for the opportunity to prove himself to you (whatever that meant), while you found yourself nearly overcome with heavy emotions.

Also, at the same time, an incredible amount of sexual frustration coursed through you from being left at the start of your heat with no one to sate you, but this could actually be what you’ve been longing for. A mate instead of a seasonal sex buddy.

Secondly, James left without a single word to you and left that same afternoon. Only taking what little he had brought with him and swiftly exiting (running) through the large front doors without looking back. He refused to answer any of the questions or affirmations Charlie hurled at him in a desperate attempt to calm her retreating tenant, but he merely offered a small apology for the trouble and a gruff “thanks” for the hospitality. You also noticed a slightly sweet, yet familiar, aroma emanating from him, though you just couldn’t place where you knew that floral scent from.

What the fuck? He could have at least given you some sort of explanation after causing so much trouble!

Who knew what Alastor could’ve meant about being “worthy”. All you could do was retire to your hotel room for the time being as you prayed that he would take pity on you and relieve this fever upon your soul. Every passing hour became worse and worse as your entire body felt like it might burn up in your bed and you felt sweat soak your nightshirt. You knew better than to either change your sheets or keep on anything but a shirt as they’ll only get dampened again by your heat’s fluids. Who knows how far into your season you were now, you had already lost track of time and could only weakly reach out for the emergency rations, that you noticed had kept restocking themselves magically at your bedside, to eat and drink enough to balance out the energy you were burning trying to conquer your lust on your own. Though, no amount of self-initiated orgasms, with or without a vibrator, helped to quench your demonic biology’s demand to be bred by a buck.

And not just any buck. YOUR BUCK.

You whimpered pitifully as your foggy mind wandered to where your mate, the one male who was strong enough to trigger your heat, went off to and cried when the thought of his slight rejection again sounded within your ears. What if he had chosen another? Not likely since you were the only doe you knew of in all of time you’d fallen into Hell, but you were exhausted, and logic wasn’t a concern as you were soon sure that he must be fucking another through her own season.

Dammit! Why was a female’s heat so much worse than a male’s?!

Both Alastor and James seemed to be at least able to stroll around their daily lives normally a few days, even a week or so, into their seasons with barely any problem. Then a depressing thought made itself known. Was it because you weren’t strong enough to control your body? Was that what Alastor thought too? Was that why James suddenly left without a word? That must be it! Your fragile mind agreed. They must be disgusted with how you were far too weak to wrangle either of them during their fight and now they knew you had become a poor, wanton slut. A fat tear slipped out of your clenched-shut eyelids as you accepted that you would be alone in this torture for however long your heat decided to drag on. The fever must have finally become too much because you were cast adrift within a fitful sleep of nightmares… and your Alastor.

…

Alastor stood tall, holding out his felled opponent’s, still beating heart, in front of his inwardly crushed face and wet eyes as the tornado of his shadows raged around them in time with his own growing fury.

“No? Well then, how about a… deal?”, the Radio Demon purred out excitedly and thought his smile might actually cut his face in half if it got any bigger. He continued with his proposal, “You see, my good man, my spectral companion picked up some rather racy gossip while he was housed within you about your human life.”

James could only express himself through pained gasps and wet grunts in response as he barely held onto consciousness through Alastor’s monologue, but pleasant memories of his past reared themselves in his mind. The sunlit days spent on his farm with his barn animals and dogs, running church bake sales with his mother-in-law, and enjoying a beer in the quiet stillness before visiting his wife and the others in the rabbit hutch. 

A cruel cackle brought his attention back to the blood-soaked present. Alastor’s voice was almost casual, “I, of all people, understand how living in the rural country provides a certain amount of privacy and how being a member of the local congregation affords the shield of social standing.” Alastor shrugged his shoulders as if he were talking to Mimsy about the good old days up top, however, he straightened himself up and squeezed the frail, pink heart in his large palm. 

With a sudden snarl, the Radio Demon morphed his expression into something absolutely frightening, even for a demon, and leaned forward in disgust once again, “I saw how you kidnapped those girls from the surrounding towns. How you raped them like the filthy animal you are and sold the children you stole from them to those traffickers.”

“Not even your own wife was safe from your perverted nature and you lowered her into the role of one of your…rabbits…once she found out the total brutality of your crimes and tried to go to the police.”, Alastor spat with extreme distaste, “I of all men belong in Hell, but I simply cannot stomach those who show no measure of respect for the fairer sex among us.”

Another tight squeeze of the reindeer’s heart calmed the deer’s ever-expanding anger towards the brute and the thought of making it into a stress ball tickled him so that he doubled over with manic laughter. Wiping a tear away from his eye, Alastor once again focused on James and the silent pleas within his victim’s eyes.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”, Alastor purred, “My proposal is that, in exchange for your life, you will feel the same pain that you caused your victims.” His voice lowered and grew colder once more, “The fate that you had planned for my darling doe when you first set your putrid eyes on her in town. To snatch her away to use for yourself and…profit on… from the other males in town.” His shadow hissed from its position amongst the other specters in the vortex at the thought of such torture having been planned for you and its master continued.

“However, you had smelled me on her but were confident in your newfound demonic abilities so you took advantage of the princess’s good graces, something you will thank her for, and decided to take your chances with whatever was awaiting you. Yet we now see how that worked out for you. HA!” Alastor’s antlers elongated as his rage once again built up at the thought of James laying a finger on your perfect skin and he held out his hand, “Either accept this deal and embrace the suffering of those women or I will simply consume your soul, and you will serve me like every other disrespectful wretch that dared to cross me.” He gestured around the void and only then did James notice the eternally wailing faces that made up the walls of the dark funnel. All howling and clawing and climbing over each other in their agony.

James inhaled with all the effort he could muster and dropped his hand as best he could into Alastor’s as a flash of bright green flashed out between them and engulfed the dying reindeer. The only sensation that James could process was the burning of his flesh that seemed to last years and he couldn’t even hear his own screams over Alastor’s victorious laughing, but, before he knew it, the agony had been replaced by an odd feeling in his core. The defeated reindeer remained on his knees as he quickly patted down his jaw and chest to make sure everything was in place and he noticed that he didn’t even have a rip in his flannel shirt nor a scratch to be found on his skin. If not for the cold sensation of the heavy chain wrapped around his thick neck, James could almost put the entire afternoon up to a bad dream.

“What did you do to me?”, he demanded shakily as Alastor roughly hauled him up to his feet by the arm and merely smiled normally, “I suggest you keep our agreement to yourself if you wish to live long enough to find out. Now!”, Clapped the Radio Demon, ”we have guests to humor.”

Alastor could feel Charlie’s demonic energy approaching his position and, after straightening up his already somehow pristine appearance, dispersed the spectral tornado and grinned widely at the incoming princess. “Charlie! Good to see you my dear!”, he began stepping forward with James in tow and slapped the reindeer’s shoulder playfully in response to Vaggie’s flying accusations of a fight.

“Merely having a productive chat, Vagatha, and we required a bit of privacy from the peanut gallery.”, he shrugged leaving Charlie to check a silent James for injuries, “After all, isn’t our fearless leader always preaching communication over confrontation? Just ask the old boy, himself, if you don’t believe me.”  Everyone looked towards James for confirmation, including Alastor over his shoulder, however, he only nodded once and quickly made his way inside the hotel. Noticeably walking a bit lopsided, the reindeer completely sidestepped you as much as he could without so much as a glance. Good. Alastor thought and he knew the beta male felt his red gaze as it burned into the back of his retreating head.

While James disappeared within the building the air suddenly felt like it was knocked out of Alastor’s chest and had to subtly stabilize himself with his cane as the heavily sweet musk of your heat finally assaulted his senses. To his delight, you seemed just as enraptured by his scent and barely acknowledged James’s leave or even Charlie and Vaggie running past you after the beaten reindeer. He could see that your face was flushed, your hands fidgeted over the constricting clothes you wore, and your breathing picked up in anticipation with each step he took in your direction. Oh, how he wished he could take his animal mind’s advice and just take you right there where you waited for him on the porch. His spoils of war so to speak.

But…that’s not how this season is going to go, Alastor told himself and tried to take a deep breath to clear the biological fog. That only made the member in his slacks twitch more aggressively, though, as he accidentally took a big gulp of your pheromones and stopped in his tracks before coming too close. You looked at him in confusion and your ears flopped over a bit when you leaned your head over in a silent question. He knew what images were flashing in your mind, but he needed to get control of this situation if anything was going to change.

“Darling, I-”, he began tensely and straightened his shoulders, “I have come to understand that I have wronged you these many seasons that you have spent by my side and I cannot stand for it to continue any longer. I cannot harm my beloved doe anymore and-“, he swallowed thickly to finish as you crept towards him slowly, “and I must admit that I no longer feel that I am worthy of your affection.”

He noticed how your ears slipped back onto your head as the realization of what he was saying churned in your mind (as best it could at the moment), however, Alastor nearly jumped you again as he took in your pouting lips while you pressed yourself against him and inhaled.

The blood was quickly leaving his head to travel south, and He was losing the battle of logic fast so he gripped your shoulders with a huff of effort and gently moved you back from him. Looking into your clouded eyes, he never felt like The Radio Demon and, rather, knew himself as simply a buck gazing towards his mate. A mate he has not treated fairly as she had him and that fact cut him to the soul, but he would redeem himself! Though, not in the way that Charlie would approve of.

Alastor, beginning to massage your slight shoulders, requested, “I’m asking for the chance to prove myself to be the superior choice for, not just this season, but for every season to come as well.” He knelt and took your hand before staring silently up into your face in suspense; knowing full well that you could simply deny him and find whomever you wanted …and he’d have to let you. Despite his misgivings, you merely nodded your head once and teared up just a bit as if you’d been waiting for his confession for years. Perhaps you had. He stood tall before you with newfound determination for his mission and promised to return to your side as soon as it was finished properly.

The Radio Demon immediately leaned forward to kiss your forehead tenderly and melted into the shadows with a vicious smile to locate his newest (unwilling) partner in crime.

***

This one is the longest chapter I've done yet, but I kinda hate it 😅 It's important because it introduces the lead into the last chapter and our motivation to root against James, but I just can't seem to like it (idk if that even makes sense lol), This is the first time I've tried to write that kind of villain story. What did you think?

-S.S.P.R.

@Xalygatorx, @songbirdpond, @bitter-rabittt, @sakuraluna2468, @cinnamon-galaxies, @speedycoffeedelight, @diffidentphantom, @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this, @eris-norwega, @anngray1369, @ladyadrasteia666, @wends, @prime-in-time-and-space, @supeersimpeer, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @type-ink, @fantasyhopperhea, @martinys-world, @apad-ravya, @galaxywolf3, @thoughfullovercreator, @Boogiemansbitch, @helluva-simper, @alastorsgirl48, @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog, @need-a-life-or-grass, @michi-keinz, @milkissesx, @ari42, @valerie-is-in-the-cupboard, @lil-glum, @amariskygal, @strawberryoverlord1893, @cherry-cola-100, @noellebellq, @lettuce-frog16, @junieshohoho, @phoephan-123, @dreamraven13@sweet-radio @littlebluefishtail @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,@vxllys ,@chibistar45 ,@sadlilghostt

[heylittleriotact]

Eulogy

I know there has been talk of Emmrook smut, but this short one shot took precedence in light of what day it is - it'll be a year tomorrow that my Grandma passed away, and I'm feeling reflective. So what do we do when we're stuck in our own heads? We write! (Full text under the cut or on ao3)

Summary: Emmrich finds Amina drinking wine alone in the dining hall relatively early in the day, but not for the reasons he might think.

A fluffy oneshot about loss, grief, regrets, and saying goodbye to the ones we love... and keeping their memory alive.

It wasn’t the most palatable combination: the herbal bitterness of the licorice was a poor compliment to the fruity sweetness of the wine, but Amina couldn’t think of anything in the world she wanted more at the moment. The clashing flavours took her back to warm houses and loud laughter, a bowl of the same candy within reach, and the chiming of crystal to punctuate the end of an amusing story told to gathered company.

Reda did love to tell stories. 

Staring forward, lost in memories, she held the gold pendant around her neck in her hand and nestled the pad of her thumb into the slight indentation in the center, the metal warming to match her temperature until it felt almost lifelike. 

That ridiculous game she could play for hours as a child - the one where one person sent a gulder rolling across the floor on its edge and the other person rolled it back… Reda would cater to Amina’s boundless joy and play as long as she wanted even though her knees complained and her back did too. Achy joints proved many times over the years to be of little impediment to Reda’s passion for playing games. 

She smiled and rubbed the pendant. 

“Darling?” Amina glanced up from her chair, her smile widening at the sight of Emmrich. “I didn’t realize you snuck in.” 

“I was looking for you to–” his eyes found the bowl of candy on the low table and then the bottle of wine, and then the glass in her hand - it was only just past midday. “Is everything alright?” His tone pivoted from one of enthusiasm to concern.

“Hm?” Amina hummed distantly before she comprehended his cause for concern: she didn’t drink often, never this early in the day, and never by herself. “Oh - this. This must look strange.” She felt her cheeks redden: it wasn’t that Emmrich wasn’t welcome, she just thought that with Lucanis and Neve visiting the market in Treviso today, she’d be able to take a moment for herself in the Dining Hall. “I’m fine. Why don’t you join me?” She straightened and gestured at the empty lounging chair across from her, the pendant in her hand dropping back onto her chest. 

She supposed she could have sat at the main dining table, but it just seemed so large and empty for one person to sit at with no company. 

Emmrich sat without hesitation, looking unconvinced by her assurance. 

“Today marks a year since Reda died. She and her husband, Gortan took me in after I was found in the Necropolis and they raised me like I was one of their own. Closest thing I ever had to family, those two and their kids.” 

Ah. There it was: the face Emmrich was making - the Mortician’s Mask: the expression that every single mortalitasi in the Necropolis could don at will. It wasn’t an unpleasant expression, nor did it look forced or disingenuine - the opposite, actually: it was an expression of true compassion, sympathy, and unspoken affirmation that the person making it was listening, should one want to talk about it. 

He was very, very good at it.

“My deepest condolences, darling.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I sense that I’ve clumsily intruded on a private memorial.” 

“You haven’t intruded on anything,” she popped another piece of licorice into her mouth. “Just taking a moment or two for some memories - you’re more than welcome to join me… she always did love a party, and she would have thought you were a perfectly charming young man.” 

The corners of Emmrich’s mouth lifted at the compliment. “In that case, I would be remiss to decline such a graciously extended invitation.”

“Good answer, love.” Amina rose to her feet and set down her glass before crossing to the cabinet against the far wall and returning with a second wine glass for Emmrich, smiling the entire time.She filled it and handed it to him, sparing the time it took to brush her fingers across his. “The sweet ones from the Anderfels were her favourite - wine, I mean. Not… not lovers if that’s what you thought I meant.” 

Always so eloquent around this one, aren’t I?

“I assumed you were referring to the wine.” He looked at her like she was personally responsible for the existence of the stars in the sky. “Will you tell me about her?”

So Amina did. She told him all about Reda, and how she was a mother, and a matron at the Necropolis, passionate and devoted to her work for her entire life. She told him how she raised Amina in a household of love and acceptance, and how she proved that family was not defined by blood alone. She told him of her champion’s heart that compelled her to spend what little spare time she had advocating for those in the city that needed a voice - how she was still that voice for others even until her dying day. She told him how she found joy in simplicity and companionship, licorice and sweet wine; and how she found comfort and peace in her faith that saw her through life’s kindnesses and its hardships in equal measure. 

“She wouldn’t be bullied around by anyone - and even when she was standing up for herself or anyone else, she was always kind - firm as a bronto when the occasion called for it, being a matron and all, but always… kind.” The pendant was back in her hand, and she poured herself and Emmrich another glass. 

“I didn’t… I wasn’t… I’ve always felt different than everyone else. Like I’m a mismatched piece trying to blend into a world of people that are kindred in ways that I can never attain, no matter how hard I try.” She looked down at her fist clenched around the pendant. “Reda was one of the few people I’ve known who always made me feel like I belonged.” She cleared her throat; steadied her voice. “I miss her a lot.” 

“She must have been tremendously proud of you: I daresay you’ve inherited many of her virtues by the sound of it.” 

“The stubborn streak a mile wide? Entirely her fault.” She laughed then, and it felt good when Emmrich joined her: it made her heart feel a little lighter.

The laughter faded though, as it will in such circumstances. 

“I didn’t get to spend as much time with her as I wanted to when she got sick. I wanted to be there for her and take care of her like she took care of me… and I did when I could, but I was still an active Watcher, and she fell ill right around the same time as the War of The Banners, and of course then I was… ‘sent to travel’ and fell in with Varric.” She looked at her knees. “I was in Cumberland when the Watch sent word that her death was imminent. Rode as fast as I could without killing my horse to get there in time.” 

“Did you?”

A thin smile. “I did.” Amina whispered, the faint pride in her voice unmistakeable. “Have you ever been at someone’s side during their last moments?” 

Emmrich nodded but did not elaborate.

“Then you know what it’s like - the way time seems to pass glacially, and how the air itself buckles and stills. The very existence of life is so colossally tangible and concrete just before it dims… yet we spend so much of our own lives dulled to its majesty, wrapped up in other things…” she was staring into her wine glass as if it might reveal some answer to her. “It was a privilege to be with her in the very end: to be able to repay a small fraction of the love she showed me, and companion her onwards to her next adventure.” 

There was a shuffling sound as Emmrich left his chair and took up the one closest to Amina, shifting it closer to hers. Still leaning forward, he held out a hand to her, his long, ringed fingers unfurling. Amina placed her hand in his and he softly pressed his lips to the back of her hand, his thumb brushing her fingers soothingly. 

“A remarkable woman. Thank you for sharing her story with me, darling.” 

“Thank you for listening.” 

“It’s what we do best.” 

She didn’t feel like crying. There was absolutely nothing wrong with crying when the time to weep insisted on itself, but while there was regret tied to Reda’s passing, there was little sorrow. Instead she was filled with a feeling of joy and love unique to situations like this that she didn’t have a word for - she wasn’t even sure such a word existed for the feeling. The closest thing she could think of was: grateful. 

“Want to hear about the time she and Gortan took me to the woods for a relaxing getaway when I was about nine, and I wound up getting stung in the ass by a wasp and hiding in a cave because I was so mortified at the thought of her tending to it?” 

“Ah, so your proclivity for refusing to accept assistance stretches back well into your childhood, I see.” His eyes glittered with mirth and she wanted to kiss him then: Emmrich had impeccable timing when it came to lightening the mood.

Instead she smirked and said, “Oh shut up and top up our wine, won’t you? You’ll need it for this one.” 

He acquiesced, his hand on her knee a physical reminder that he was there and would stay for as long as she’d have him. 

“To a remarkable woman.” Amina raised her glass, and Emmrich echoed her. 

Their cups met, and they drank to a beloved memory. Stories were told well into the afternoon, and as Emmrich walked her back to the Lighthouse, Amina’s heart felt full to bursting: perhaps the wine had gone to her head, but her face hurt from smiling and she couldn’t stop giggling as she walked arm in arm with her favourite person: she wouldn’t have wanted to spend this day with anyone else. 

[jewishregulus]

parents jegulus……pleaseeeeee

i have the very strong belief that regulus would be the lenient parent out of fear of recreating his personal home environment . he would hate yelling and saying no and so james , who feels comfortable doing this bc he never viewed it as a threat to his personal safety growing up, steps in most of the time! however james was spoiled as a kid so unfortunately this baby is the most spoiled toddler alive . they are the types of parents to be in the principals office and be like my son would never steal his friends crackers ….. he’s an angel……… . first time their kid gets suspended for fighting at school james takes them out for ice cream to celebrate the win . and ice cream to help heal the loss . literally the most unserious parents ever . multilingual af household (massive mixing of hindi marathi english yiddish french) ….. also these babies are PRODIGIES . they are raising wizarding world young sheldon . literature analysis is just casual dinner conversation . chaotic but ultimately they love their kids and their kids would love them very very much …….. side note i think regulus would be the biggest girl dad in history ….. he would braid his little girls hair!!!!!! have little tea parties with her !!!!!!! let her paint his nails and do his makeup!!!!! i see the vision very very very clearly

but as a whole they are the type of family who goes on morning walks and always has a breakfast together and has weekend trips all the time and is always throwing parties and throws the coolest birthday parties and also plans like the craziest sleepovers . regulus black runs the PTA like the navy.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[xviruserrorx]

I don't understand why people get frustrated at things they knew were gonna happen because someone else is chronically I'll and it's happened multiple times before so it's not like it's new, like oh yeah sorry for existing like this

[classicsonic]

Hey do you mind not posting about Sonic as much? I don’t want to be that guy but it’s a little bit insensitive. We’re mutuals and it’s stated pretty clearly in my carrd that Sonic the Hedgehog is a touchy subject for me, given that I miss my pet hedgehog Sonic every single day of my life. She’s not dead by the way…I’m not traumadumping in your inbox. It’s just that my bitch ex-friend stole her from me as revenge for writing a callout post about them. And like, come on, I can’t believe they expected me NOT to write a callout post after I found out they write Good Omens abortion fanfic. That’s so fucked up. Aziraphale would never be anti-choice. Anyway…please just stop posting about Sonic the Hedgehog. I’m crying just thinking about my sweet angel baby. I’m so upset. I’m gonna go write another callout post to soothe my nerves. FUCK you Hunter

[hoshifighting]

Two words. Dilf Cheol. (I am on the brink of insanity thank yewww)

dilf!seungcheol

WARNINGS: smut, fluff, crying, marriage, his kid loves u, shy dilf!seungcheol at the beginning.

oh man, dilf!seungcheol though? i think about it every single day, i swear. and yeah, it all starts with that awkward-ass moment at the café. he’s standing there all buff and shy, trying to work up the nerve to ask for your number, his daughter hanging onto his leg like she’s his bodyguard. her big, curious eyes peeking out at you while he stumbles over his words. “uh… I just… I thought maybe you’d… uh,” seungcheol scratches the back of his neck, all nervous—like he isn’t the size of a tank. “you know, if you’re not busy… you could give me your insta?” he’s waiting for you to laugh at him, probably thinks he’s gonna get rejected because, you know, he’s got a kid and all. like that makes him less attractive or something. but you’re all heart-eyes the second his little girl pipes up with, “daddy thinks you’re pretty.”

dude nearly dies on the spot. he’s so red, you could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. but you just crouch down to her level, giving her the same sweet smile you flashed at the waitress earlier, and say, “well, I think your dad’s really handsome, too.”

game over. you’ve got him hooked, right there.

from then on, you’re texting nonstop. it’s almost like a high school crush thing, except the guy’s a full-grown dad who still somehow makes your stomach flip like you’re sixteen again. his insta’s basically a whole love letter to his daughter, like, every other post is her: her in some princess costume, her making pancakes (or trying to), her at the park with him, her with his dog. sometimes, you’ll scroll through his feed just to see him smile because, damn, it’s so rare he smiles like that anywhere else.

but then there’s the gym photos. god, those gym photos. all sweaty and pumped up, and you swear he’s showing off just a bit for you now that he knows you’re watching. his arms look like they could crush you, but the way he talks? it’s like he’s this big ol’ teddy bear wrapped in all that muscle.

“you eat today?” he texts you at like, 2 p.m., no greeting or anything.

you text back, “noo :(( too busy.”

not even a minute later, you get a notification from some food delivery app—he’s already sent something to your place. he’s like that. doesn’t even ask, just takes care of it. if it’s cold out, he’s dropping off a coat. if it rains, a brand new umbrella’s somehow at your work's door.

one night, you're scrolling through insta, and there’s this photo of him at some fancy work event, all dressed up in a suit and tie. goddamn, you think, biting your lip, because who knew seungcheol could clean up like that? the suit hugs every muscle, and it’s wild how he can look that good in anything from sweats to formalwear. you double-tap, and not two minutes later, he’s texting you.

“you like that one?”

you don’t even bother playing coy. “nah, I loved that one.”

there’s a pause, and you can almost picture him blushing on the other end, even though you’re the one getting all flustered.

“well, maybe you’ll get to see it in person soon,” he shoots back, and there’s a teasing edge to it, the same one that’s been driving you absolutely crazy since you started talking.

you roll your eyes, but your heart’s doing that dumb fluttery thing again. “maybe,” you reply, playing along.

and it’s like, you’re not even sure how this all happened so fast, but seungcheol? he’s always making sure you’re good, like his whole day revolves around making you smile, checking in, making sure you're eating, keeping warm. it’s low-key intense but in the best way possible.

and somehow, between all the little text convos and the insta stalking, you’ve found yourself seriously catching feelings for this dad with the cutest kid, the sweetest heart, and a whole-ass gym routine that’s absolutely unfair.

and you wonder: how the hell did you get this lucky?

seungcheol's always been like that—taking care of you like it’s second nature, probably because he’s used to being in dad-mode 24/7. you kinda feel spoiled, in the best way possible. he’s always looking out for you. it’s not that he’s overbearing; it’s just that this is how he shows he cares. but you know it goes both ways.

so one day, you decide to return the favor. you find this pink polo, something that screams him but in the softest, most endearing way. you know his daughter will love it too, ‘cause she’s all about pink and matching with her dad. you send it to him without saying much, just a little note saying, “thought this would look good on you.” the next time you see him, he's wearing it, and yeah, the shirt hugs his body perfectly. he’s acting like it’s no big deal, but you catch the way he blushes when you compliment him. “didn’t have to do all that,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, but his eyes are softer than usual, that little glint of he’s falling harder than he planned.

but what really seals the deal is how u handle his daughter. every time you two try to plan a date, something comes up—his mom’s busy, or the babysitter falls through, and suddenly, the whole night’s flipped. instead of a fancy dinner, you’re headed to the park or some kid-friendly caf��, making sure his little girl has fun. and somehow, you end up having more fun on those “ruined” dates, watching seungcheol let loose, running around with his kid while you cheer them on. it’s like you get him, get his life, and he’s not used to that.

and then, finally, one night, the stars align. his mom takes the kid for the weekend, and it’s just you and him. alone.

and oh god, does he reward you.

he’s been holding back for weeks—months even. all that pent-up frustration, that tension from constantly having to play the responsible dad while trying to not let himself get too attached to you, it all comes crashing down.

he’s rough, no question about it. but it’s the kind of rough that makes your whole body sing. his hands are everywhere, grabbing, holding, pressing you up against walls and furniture like he’s desperate to feel every inch of you at once. he’s strong, and he knows it, lifting you like you weigh nothing, carrying you from one spot to the next without breaking a sweat.

the first time, it’s almost frantic. he’s pounding into you like he’s afraid the moment’s gonna slip through his fingers, grunting into your ear, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. your legs wrap around him, but you can hardly hold on—he’s relentless, hitting that spot over and over until you’re crying out, body shaking violently.

you don’t even realize your legs are spasming until hours later, when you try to stand and nearly collapse from how shaky you are. but seungcheol’s not done. oh no. he’s far from done.

before you can even catch your breath, he’s down between your legs, eating you out like a man famished. this time, it’s slower his tongue doing things that make you arch off the bed, hands fisting in his hair as he drags you to the edge again, then pulls you back just to do it all over. every time you think you’re about to lose it, he eases up, grinning against your skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

and yeah, maybe it’s been ages for him, but fuck, the man knows how to destroy you. by the time he’s done, you’re a complete mess, legs trembling, heart flying from your chest, your body so sensitive that even the thought of him touching you again makes you shudder.

seungcheol though, he’s the type to take his time. slow and unshakable, like he’s gotta be absolutely sure before he makes any big moves. but with you? he’s struggling. there’s this itch under his skin, this need to lock it down, put a ring on your finger, make it official. and yeah, he’d never say it out loud, not yet. he’s got too much pride to come off that desperate. but every time he watches you with his daughter, every time she calls you her “best friend” or shows you the drawing she made of you three as a family, he’s fighting the urge to drop down on one knee and ask you to make it real.

he hides it well, though, keeps up the usual routine. he keeps taking you out on dates, some with his little girl tagging along, others just the two of you. and he’s always scolding you whenever you show up with yet another gift for her.

“y/n, you’ve gotta stop,” he groans, shaking his head as you hand his daughter a set of pink hair clips that match her favorite doll. “she’s gonna expect something every week at this point.”

but there’s that soft look in his eyes, the one that betrays how much he loves seeing you spoil his kid. he’ll roll his eyes, but you notice how he always says “my girls” now, so casually like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you and her. his girls.

one day, he takes you to her father’s day presentation at school. you’re not sure who’s more nervous, seungcheol or his daughter. but when she walks on stage in her tiny tutu, all giggles and shy smiles, it’s seungcheol who completely loses it. you’re sitting beside him, watching him tear up before she’s even started dancing. by the time the performance is over, he’s full-on crying, holding his face in his hands as you rub his back, trying to calm him down.

“it’s just… she’s growing up so fast,” he sniffs, looking up at you with watery eyes, completely unashamed of the tears streaming down his face. and you can’t help but love him more for it, for how much he loves his daughter, for how raw and real he is when it comes to her.

your intimate life? that’s been steady too, despite how busy things get. with a kid around, it’s not always easy to find the time, but seungcheol makes sure you’re never left wanting. there are the quickies, yeah, when his daughter’s asleep and you’ve got the living room to yourselves, stealing a heated make-out session that somehow ends up with your back pressed against the couch cushions, his hands roaming under your clothes while he kisses you senseless.

but if things get too feral, you two will sneak off to the laundry room or the closet, anywhere you can get a little privacy. he’s fast, efficient, but still so thorough, making sure you’re fully satisfied every single time. it’s like, no matter how quick things have to be, he’s always got this laser focus on making you feel good.

but even with all the passion, he’s still got that soft side. sometimes, it’s just enough to make out on the couch, your lips swollen from kissing, the weight of him pressed against you. and in those moments, there’s this quiet comprehension between you two. you don’t need the sex to feel connected—sometimes, just being close is enough.

but it’s getting harder for him to hold back. every time he sees you playing with his daughter, every time she asks if you’re coming over for dinner, he feels it. that pull. that urge to make you his. and one night, after his daughter’s fallen asleep and the two of you are tangled up on the couch, catching your breath after another one of those wild, stolen moments, he looks at you, really looks at you, and the words just fall out of his mouth.

“marry me.”

it’s not planned, not rehearsed. hell, he hadn’t even thought about it until the moment the words slipped out. but once they’re out there, he realizes he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. his hand tightens around yours, and he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s already bracing himself for the answer.

and all you can think is, finally.

[qlossytbh]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeuQ8EA6/

I am obsessed with this edit!

Can you do a spencer reid x bau reader where she is very closed off emotionaly so he doesnt know if she likes him back or not until she does the little "tuck her hair behind her ears thing"?

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you were someone spencer found very hard to read. that is until the day of your birthday, where you accidentally do the infamous double tuck

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 PURE FLUFF, my beloved awkward spence <3

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.5k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 this is so sickeningly sweet. my heart is literally about to implode, they’re so awkward and wholesome. this request was so fucking cute i just had to do something with it

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Garcia!" You smiled sweetly, immediately infecting those around with a mirror of your very smile. You held one of your favorite candles between your hands, tracing the glass beneath your fingertips— You had just been meaning to buy a new one.

Garcia beamed proudly, knowing she had nailed your birthday gift, a task many deemed imposible. It’s not that you were hard to please, not at all. You had always been closed off with those around you, opting to talk very little about yourself and allowing people to talk a lot about themselves, which is what people nowadays loved doing. As a profiler, you knew exactly how to prevent prying eyes from seeing anything past the depths of yours.

However, to Spencer particularly, it was absolutely infuriating to not be able to read you properly. Any hypothesis he made up in his head based on any of your gazes, your gestures, your small quirks and antics— only turned out being proven wrong since you'd completely redirect him in an opposite direction to what he believed you were thinking.

He was constantly thrown off by you, and Spencer wasn't the type of person who particularly enjoyed being wrong or not being able to perfectly calculate and analyze a situation. His job was profiling after all.

There was a single reason and he tried to remain completely oblivious. But he knew that the only reason as to why he wanted so desperately to know about you was because he liked you— he really liked you.

As in 'became a blabbering mess around you' liked you, as in 'couldn't formulate a coherent sentence around you' liked you— It was so hard for him to act normal around you. Anytime you appeared out of no where, asking how his day had been, and offering another one of those teeth-rottening sweet smiles, he'd go blank and feel utterly stupid. Every aspect of being a genius vanished into thin air when it came to you.

Morgan teased him persistently, being able to see his fuming crush from a mile away. Spencer sat down quietly, watching you hug Garcia happily as you sat the candle down onto your desk. When you pulled away, you tucked a single strand of hair behind one ear, smiling brightly.

"So, has she done it yet?" Morgan inquired, appearing right behind Spencer as he watched you silently from his own desk. Spencer flinched, turning immediately in his chair, looking over at his fellow co-worker and friend like a deer caught in headlights. He used his hand to push Morgan's face away from his with a shove. Garcia, who accompanied Morgan, stood by the side, bemused entirely by the situation .

Morgan lowered his tone, lacing it with implicit teases that flew past his familiar smirk. He leaned against Spencer's desk. "So how's the stalking going Lover boy?"

Garcia laughed to herself unwittingly while she mixed her coffee around in her mug with a spoon. Spencer glowered at the two of them.

"I'm not stalking," He defended matter of factly. "And stop with the 'lover boy'"

"But that's what you'd call someone who's head over heels for our dear little—"  Morgan began saying in a sing-song voice as he poked at Spencer's cheek, desperate to get a reaction out of his constant teasing. With a firm slap, Spencer shooed him away, blushing profusely.

"I'm not.!" He fussed. Garcia let out a soft snort, to which Spencer was not amused by. In the slightest.

"Really?" Garcia asked, almost in amusement. The only one truthfully believing what Spencer was saying was himself.

"I'm just looking t-to—" Spencer pulled his lips into a flat line, unable to come up with a plausible excuse quick enough. "—to figure out what she may want for her birthday."

Garcia and Morgan exchanged a brief glance before simultaneously regarding Spencer. He sputtered, still glaring at them.

"What?!"

"Oh nothing.." Garcia took a sip of her coffee with a smirk. "Has she done it yet?"

"I asked the same thing!" Derek turned to Garcia. They laughed together as if one big secret was being tossed around in front of everyone and no one else knew. Spencer furrowed his brows, looking at them oodly.

"Done what?" Spencer couldn't help but ask, curiosity tickling him.

"The double tuck," Garcia stated, looking back over at Reid. The furrow in Spencer's brow deepened as he opened his mouth to speak.

"The—what?"

Derek then proceeded to give a very specific demonstration of whatever it was Garcia was talking about. Derek batted his lashes, putting on the most innocent face he could muster and giggled nervously as he pretended to tuck hair behind both ears. Spencer cringed at his antics while Garcia let out a laugh.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

Spencer looked back over at you as you handed a fellow co-worker a few files, talking aimlessly. You threw your head back laughing at something the woman who chatted with you had said and Spencer couldn't stop a small smile from creeping it’s way onto his face.

"She hasn't," He said, still looking at you intently. Garcia and Derek shared a look and with one more sip of coffee, she added.

"She will.”

"Watch out lover boy, she'll catch you staring—" Morgan whispered in Spencer's ear, which only caused him to reach back in protest and slap Derek away. He turned to glare at him while Morgan laughed.

You thanked Garcia one final time and turned your attention over at Morgan who was now laughing in a way that you felt intrigued enough to want to be involved in whatever it was the two of them were laughing at. You tilted your head slightly to the side, furrowing your brows with a smile.

"What's so funny over there boys?" Penelope asked, lips curving into a sly smirk while she crossed her arms across her body. Spencer froze, looking over at you immediately.

"Uh— we, uhm—" He stammered, cheeks beginning to buzz with heat. Before he could dig his grave any deeper, JJ and Emily walked into the room singing happy birthday with a tray of cupcakes in their hands.

You turned to them, eyes blowing wide. A nervous laugh erupted out of you, causing you to lower your face and hide it in your hands, feeling profusely embarrassed. Getting this kind of public attention wasn’t something you preferred, and it made you wonder if there was anyone that truthfully enjoyed getting their chants of happy birthday’s in public.

Spencer’s could practically feel and hear the way his heart bursted in his chest as he watched you crinkle your face in embarrassment. It was evident on every single fraction of his face— the awe that pooled behind his irises and the way his cheeks were tainted a specific shade of pink.

"Someone's fallin'—" Derek started.

"Shut up."

The day had gone by swiftly. It had been a slow and uneventful day, so no crimes were up for reviewing. You had instead, been drowned in paperwork that had your back aching by the end of the day.

However, being surrounded by all of your friends and receiving so much appreciation and love on your special day had been a plus, urging you further to push throughout the rest of the day.

Hotch had given you an okay to leave early, and knowing that your parents were waiting for you to take you out for your birthday dinner, you hurriedly packed up your things into your purse.

On your way out, you shot a goodbye to everyone with a bright smile plastered across your features. As you walked past Spencer's desk, you offered him a brief glance accompanied with a small wave. “Bye Spence,"

He waved back woefully, blinking rapidly and pressing his lips into a tight smile that inched sideways. Not wanting to give himself the pleasure of gawking at you further, he turned to his files, swirling his pen in his hand nervously.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Spencer's attention. He turned seeing JJ, Emily and Morgan peering over at him from their respective desks.

"Really?" Emily pinched the skin between her eyebrows with frustration.

"What?" Suddenly he was feeling mortified that all his co-workers had been watching his entire inner-turmoil.

"Did you even give her the gift you spent weeks putting together?" JJ tested, resting her chin in her hand. Spencer looked away sheepishly, scribbling something onto his paper and not entirely sure how JJ knew about it.

"I— I forgot.." He said, voice small while he tripped over his own words.

"Reid, just get out there," Derek urged. He was beginning to get restless with watching the two of you ghost around eachother like two idiots.

Spencer stopped scribbling and glanced over at you briefly as you walked out the main door that lead towards the elevators. He looked back over to the others who all shot him a look of encouragement. He supposed that it wouldn't be a bad idea just to— you know, give you your present.

The impulse in him was screaming and yelling at him to just get up and chase after you. But another part of him was forcing him to stay glued to his desk, letting you leave yet again.

It really didn't help him not being sure where you stood when it came to your friendship. At times, he’d get the smallest intuition that maybe, just even possibly, you were on the same page as him, but the insecurity that lingered within him was loud enough to prevent him from ever doing anything about it.

He had to get over himself— it was just a present. Everyone had given you one except him, and he didn't want you thinking he didn't care. He knew he didn't give it to you not because he didn't care but because he cared too much and he felt really scared that maybe by giving you his gift you may not—

He clapped his eyes shut, realizing he really had to stop overthinking and just, in the ‘wise’ words of Morgan, 'shoot his shot'.

Spencer, peered down at his pocket, and back over at the door.

You pushed the glass door open, looking down at your phone and tugging your scarf up to cover your nose from the piercing cold.

"Y/n!" You turned, surprised to see Spencer running through the lobby and out the main door, catching up to you.

You watching him, wide-eyed and taken aback as he jogged up to you, opening his mouth to say something but having to lean over to catch his breath. He didn’t know if it had been the brief run or the unforeseen anxiety that caused him to run out of breathe— whichever it was, he needed to work on it.

You let out a soft laugh, finding his behavior amusing. “You okay?”

You followed him with your gaze while he finally straightened himself. No words were said as his chest heaved. He looked into your eyes, immediately regretting it as his rapid pulse hammered against his head. You too began to feel your heart begin to pick up its pace until you found yourself reaching up and tucking your hair behind both ears, looking at the floor sheepishly

And there it was.

Spencer's mind stopped running the second he registered your movements and Garcia's words flashed across his mind so quickly he almost didn’t remember.

"When she really likes a guy and gets nervous she tucks her hair behind both ears at the same time,"

"I, uhm—" He started, trying to prevent a grin from rising onto his face at his newfound information.

You watched him curiously, starting to wonder if his cheeks were turning pink due to how cold it was or if he was possibly blushing.

Spencer reached into his pocket and took out a small chained bracelet. It was small and dainty— nothing too flashy or flamboyant. He held his slightly trembling hand out to you, revealing the small, nearly minuscule butterfly charm that sat on center of it. You stared at it in awe, reaching over and grasping it.

As you stared at it, you recalled the first conversation you had with Spencer. It was nearly spring and you were on one of your first cases with the team. As you inspected one of the crime scenes, a butterfly had suddenly latched onto your wrist.

You looked at the small insect, briefly startled, but once realizing the absence of danger, you quickly allowed yourself to gaze upon the bug with curiosity and awe.

Spencer watched you intently. He knew close to nothing about you, but something inside him twisted with your tender gaze towards something so small and fragile. He couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth and beginning one of his endless rants on that specific species of butterfly and how butterflies were a symbolism of good luck and, oh so on.

He couldn't stop talking and that was the first impression you had gotten from Spencer. He was profusely embarrassed afterwards, realizing he had probably overstepped a boundary you had yet to set given since— he really didn't know you all that much.

However, you smiled at him and asked him to tell you more. Since that day, butterflies had become your favorite.

And since that day, Spencer felt his heart double in size any time you were near him.

"Spence," You looked back up at him. "This is beautiful."

He smiled awkwardly, and shuffled on his heels, feeling his pulse quicken. How fast can one’s pulse beat? "I didn't want you thinking I had forgotten about a gift I just, didn't really know when to give it to you and I though—"

You watched his every movement intently, noticing the small pool of fog leave his mouth with each breath due to the cold, not even trying to avoid lingering your gaze on his lips.

"No! No—" You waved your hands in front of him frantically, panicking at the thought of him feeling in any way obligated to get you stuff, even if it was your birthday. It felt too indulgent from him— especially from him.

“It's okay..! You didn't have to get me anything, much less something so special,"

"I—" Spencer looked to the side. With the simple confirmation of your little hair tuck, he decided to push his luck, relying completely on Garcia’s analysis. "I wanted to."

You felt heat all over your face. You grabbed the small chain and easily slipped it onto your wrist, looking at it in awe. You once again, unconsciously tucked your hair behind both of your ears. Spencer noticed this but this time, he allowed himself to smile widely like kid on christmas morning.

You smiled down at it. Spencer watched you, eyes pooling with affection. You looked back up at him, realizing the way his gazed lingered on you. There was some form of affection that was quite evident, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think anything of it. Nothing was said, and that made you incredibly nervous.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say something but not being able to. The mix of the piercing cold and the invasive anxiety wasn’t doing him any good as his shoulders shook lightly. You took notice, and it made sense since he had chased you down in nothing but a blue button up shirt. Without a single word, you reached for your scarf and unwrapped it from your neck. You’d do okay with the cold. You had enough layers— and you were blushing enough to heat your whole body up.

You pushed yourself onto the tip of your toes, wrapping it around Spencer's neck in order to give him some sort of warmth. Spencer immediately grew dizzy, failing to ignore how the scarf smelled just like you always did— a burnt vanilla mixed with the sweetest notes of sugared petals, warm and inviting. He also failed to ignore how close you suddenly were.

Something in you flipped and with a slap of encouragement, you once again pushed yourself onto your toes and planted a tender kiss onto his cheek, staining it ever so slightly with the soft red chapstick you were wearing.

"Blue looks good on you," You said, hands still playing with the blue scarf that sat comfortably around his neck. You wish you could’ve taken a picture of his face, starstruck and dizzy.

You caught the small red stain on his cheek. You smiled, reaching up and smudging your thumb across the stain. "So does red."

Spencer had nearly felt his knees buck. Your sudden bold moves were causing him to spin. It had always been so hard trying to decipher your intentions and antics, but with you standing so close to him, for the first time, he found everything so clear and evident. Like the last layer of secrecy had been ripped off in the matter of seconds and he was entranced.

That could be part of the reason as to why Spencer couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and placing a firm kiss onto your lips.

You froze momentarily, completely caught off guard, especially since you had always thought what you felt for Spencer was one-sided. But soon enough, you eased and smiled into the kiss. It was sweet and soft, innocent and pure, and it was perfect.

He pulled away harshly, suddenly realizing what he had done. "I’m—"

“No!—“ You were surprised at the lack of stability in your voice. “T-that was fine,”

Oh if one could kick themselves. Fine?!

He cleared his throat, words caught deep into his throat. You blushed profusely, wanting to slap yourself back into reality as you grew more and more fidgety and nervous.

"I—" You both said simultaneously. This was embarrassing.

You shot him a nervous smile as you both proceeded to stumble upon each-others words, neither being able to form a coherent sentance.

"Are— Are you doing anything tomorrow..?" Spencer asked, anxiety clawing at him relentlessly.

"No," You felt anticipation in your chest as you shuffled your grip on your purses strap.

"Would you want to?—” He asked, voice small, as if testing the waters and terrified to how you would reply. “You know, do something..?”

A giddy smile grew onto your face, as your hands reached up, and for a third time, tucked hair behind both ears.

"I’d love to," You said. Spencer felt like he was on cloud nine.

"Great! Uh—" He glanced down, pursing his lips. "Cool..”

You stifled a laugh, as he peered over at you with a smile. "I'll text you,"

"Cool.." You pointed over to your car, realizing that it was getting late. "I'm going to, uh—"

A grin that stretched from ear to ear was plastered across Spencer face as you began walking away, also smiling to yourself giddily. Once your back was turned to him, you squeezed your eyes shut, nearly jumping with joy.

"Happy birthday..!" He shot out. You turned, offering him a wave. Spencer watched until you climbed into your car and left the driveway, with the widest, most stupidly huge smile plastered all over his face.

Of course, when he reappeared at his desk, wrapped in your scarf, cheek stained slightly, and the most dazed look splattered all across his features, Morgan didn't skip the opportunity to tease the hell out of him— again.

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[hedgehog-moss]

Last time I went to the village to buy bread I saw a woman in the street who was dressed like a 19th-century peasant, complete with a thick old-timey accent with dialect words no one uses anymore—she was telling a little group of people to follow her so of course I had to drop everything and follow her too.

And it turned out she was a theatre actress who has read a lot of local archives in libraries and town halls, and offered her services to organise guided tours of various villages to tell people about local history in a fun way, by playing characters who lived here in the Middle Ages, the 19th century, or WWII. It's such a cool idea! I talked to her for a bit after the visit and she said she wasn't sure it'd work / attract enough people, but she had groups of tourists + local families show up for the visit every week, in every village where she did this, so she think she'll be hired again next summer.

When I joined their group she was talking about WWII, and how my & other nearby villages were known by the Nazis and Vichy as a hotbed of terrorists, with some Gestapo officers killed in bomb attacks. (In retaliation the Nazis eventually rounded up 100+ locals and deported them to camps, as well as shooting a few.) I was mostly familiar with WWII anecdotes from the North-East, where my grandparents lived during the war, and I found it funny how different they sounded—my grandfather made Resistance activities sound well-planned and careful (espionage, sabotage, underground presses, infiltrating railway services etc) while oral histories around here make them sound a lot more spontaneous and—handcrafted? like "Emile brought what we needed for the bomb in his wheelbarrow hidden under a layer of straw and we exploded 2 Nazis."

We then went to visit the former girls' school, and I learnt a lot about my country's history of education for girls! Also it was really sweet because there was an old lady in our group who had attended this school as a child and had lots of school memories to share. Most of them were very wholesome, until eventually our tour guide went "Surely you also have some School Mischief to tell us about" and the old woman at first was like no no no no, I was a good girl. And then she conceded that when she had to sort lentils for the nuns' dinner and she resented one of them for berating her in class, she'd do a shit job on purpose and leave some little stones in the lentils.

Then our last step was the fairground where the town fair was (and is still) held, and our tour guide told us little 19th-century anecdotes (in-character, more like acting them out) that she'd found in old postcards and letters in the archives—how the town fair was where you'd go for your dentist appointment (i.e. to have your bad teeth pulled with pliers with no pain medicine) and to get any object repaired, like damaged pans or clogs; how there were dancing bears and performing monkeys; how one year the merchant who sold linen for women's trousseaus had her linen display trampled "by 300 cows" (might have been an exaggeration) and she hit the cow herder and it started a massive brawl.

My favourite anecdote was how back in the 1800s the local innkeeper was frustrated by the fact that the nearest village is just 10km away, and people who came to the fair often decided to go spend the night there so their journey back the next day would be less long, and so he started to tell them about the beast that lives under the bridge between the two villages. Travellers say horses go mad when they see it and just jump into the water. Some say the beast has dug up corpses from the cemetery because it likes human flesh, though of course it prefers it fresh. I'm now convinced half of local legends were single-handedly created by business savvy innkeepers determined to get more customers than the rival inn 10km away.

I'm sad I only learnt about these visits at the end of summer when they're coming to an end, but I'll definitely follow this woman around again if she returns with more stories next year!

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[street-smarts00]

Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

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

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited. 

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you. 

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love. 

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically. 

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders. 

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope. 

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact. 

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs. 

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm. 

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind. 

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane. 

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk. 

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started. 

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk. 

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair. 

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it. 

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen. 

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face. 

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.” 

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.” 

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.” 

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked. 

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.” 

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive. 

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.” 

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships. 

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.” 

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.” 

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought. 

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him. 

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings. 

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name. 

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him. 

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to. 

~

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home. 

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.  

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night. 

“Hey,” you greeted. 

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door. 

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath. 

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

“Huh?” 

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly. 

“Oh.” 

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips. 

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled. 

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was. 

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms. 

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head. 

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need. 

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache. 

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered. 

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck. 

“Do you wanna lie down?” 

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute 

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.” 

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend. 

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile. 

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him. 

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …” 

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers. 

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had. 

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg. 

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm. 

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did. 

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms. 

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice. 

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you. 

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured. 

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold. 

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?” 

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.” 

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response. 

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze. 

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.  

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.” 

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank. 

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch. 

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.” 

“Yes you were.” 

“Y/N please,” he begged. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.” 

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it. 

“I was freaking out,” he blurted. 

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now. 

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable” 

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good. 

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?” 

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment. 

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

 Here we go. Flood gates. 

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ” 

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper. 

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence. 

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach. 

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss. 

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him. 

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears. 

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.” 

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased. 

“That too,” he chuckles. 

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes. 

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,” 

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added. 

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh. 

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours. 

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

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

[okay-babe]

Imagine alastor thinks his wife is just the most perfect, angelic being he’s ever met, so he’s downright shocked to fight out she also ended up in hell going “yeah I killed a man once” (he falls even more in love)

A Good Thing, Indeed

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angelic reader, protective/possessive alastor, brief human alastor x human reader, fluff, very mild angst note: I went a little overboard with this one, but I hope you enjoy, anon &lt;3 Find a sequel (of sorts) to this fic, here.

Alastor had never quite understood how someone like him had ended up with a woman like you.

You were soft and understanding, utterly ceaseless in your kindness and love of near anyone who crossed your path, a true saint to be sure.

Alastor on the other hand, had always been quite the opposite.

Where you were soft, your lover was unyielding, where you were understanding, he was impatient, and when it came to the capacity for kindness and love within his heart, many would have gone on record stating that there was much to be desired in that regard.

Yet, even still, you chose him, and he, you.

Every. Single. Time.

It was as if the two of you were meant to be.

The proud and charismatic up and coming host of a brand new radio show, and the modest and soft spoken kindergarten teacher that was ever present upon his arm.

To Alastor, you were everything and more, and whether he was willing to admit it aloud or not, he all but worshiped the very ground that you walked upon.

There was so very little worth caring for in a world like the one that he lived in, and yet there you were, a shining beacon of light and hope to keep him from losing his mind over it all (well, at least in part, though he knew deep down that a portion had been missing since long before you'd made your way into his life).

For all of this, Alastor praised you and your love ceaselessly, his appreciation for your union a vast and endless thing that filled him with a sense of pride stronger than any other he'd felt before.

And how could it not?

You were his wife.

You!

The beautiful kindergarten teacher who worked in the public school just down the street from his broadcasting station, the one with the smile that lit up a room and the laugh that could make a man blush.

The one with the students who sung her praises to their parents during pick up and the coworkers turned friends who would utterly gush about her at even the briefest mention of her name.

You.

The woman that no one believed had gotten New Orleans' most prominent radio host to settle down after only just a year of courting, and whose stunning church wedding had been the talk of the town.

You were perfect, you were lovely, and the sweetest part of it all was that you bore his last name.

And oh, what whiplash that must have caused for those who hadn't known of your courtship earlier on. It nearly sent Alastor into a tizzy just imagining it.

The sweet, adoring woman that your son calls his teacher is also the wife of the ever unreadable and notably cold radio host from just down the street that scarcely any could say they truly knew?

How scandalous! Whatever is a woman like her doing with a man like him?!

Well, the answer, quite honestly, was being doted upon nigh endlessly.

If you wanted for even the smallest of things, it would be yours in an instant, and if you desired even the most useless of luxuries, he would have spared no expense to have it in your hands by the end of the day.

And even beyond that, there was the persistent desire to stay by your side, his presence always guaranteed the very moment you mentioned want for it.

An ice cream social at the school where you'd be meeting your new students and their parents? Alastor was there, conversing politely with a few mothers on the difficulties of parenting (in spite of his notable lack of children), making nearly everyone wonder what the hell a famous radio host was doing at the local elementary school.

Visiting Mimzy at her slightly sleazy little lounge in the shadier side of the city? Alastor was there, dressed to the nines, looking immensely out of place as you danced the night away with your friends (and him of course) to your little heart's content.

His love for you was nearly as endless as yours was for the very world beneath your feet, and in spite of himself he couldn't help but fall deeper and deeper in love at every borderline naive action you took.

You want to buy that man a drink because he looks lonely? Certainly darling, your husband would be happy to scare him off all night as the fool tries to make unwanted advances at you that he thinks are warranted thanks to your kindness.

You want to pick a fight with the burly man whose house is on your walk to work because he's been shouting cruel things at his dog nearly every morning for the past several weeks? Oh of course, just let Alastor prepare to use his most unsettling smile while he reaches for the leather sheathed knife he keeps attached to his belt so he can wordlessly threaten the oaf without you ever even realizing.

And so, knowing all of that and having lived such a love-filled few years at your side, how could Alastor ever have believed he might one day see you again once he came to in Hell shortly after his demise?

The short answer was, he couldn't.

And though he would never have been willing to admit such a thing aloud, it utterly shattered a portion of his heart to know he would never see your sweet smile or hear your perfect laugh ever again.

And to imagine what your reaction may have been once the police had informed you of all that he had done?

Well, he tried his best not to.

Because while he couldn't bring himself to regret those he had killed and the things he had done, he did regret having been left with no choice but to keep such a thing from you and leave you with such a mess upon his death.

Certainly you had deserved better, that much he knew.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about that now.

Or, at least, that's what he had led himself to believe.

Until one day, he'd been broken out of his typical morning routine of brewing his black coffee and digging into a freshly caught deer by the sound of knocking at his door.

There were very few people who knew of where Alastor lived at this point, with him being multiple years removed from life and having firmly cemented himself within society as a powerful and merciless overlord, so honestly it hadn't come as very much of a surprise when he opened the door and found an old friend waiting rather impatiently on the other side.

Mimzy.

Having arrived in Hell not very long after the radio host, the former flapper, (who he had actually met through you), had become a familiar face throughout the past few years as he'd tried to grow accustomed to life without his darling wife at his side.

It was nice, in a way, to have that reminder of you near when he wished for it to be, and so he allowed the sinner to call him something like a friend and offered her protection when it was convenient enough for him that it didn't prove to be a hassle.

Although, today of all days the overlord was certainly a little less than pleased to see Mimzy's familiar face at his doorstep, and he was reasonably certain that she knew why that was.

It was your former anniversary after all, and today would have been your tenth year of marriage had he only lived long enough to reach such a landmark achievement with you.

A smile, strained and thin, descended upon his lips, and, in spite of his feelings, Alastor remained as cordial as ever, albeit rather cold with his words.

"Mimzy, my dear! How wonderful to see you! Whatever could possibly be so important as to have you at my door on a day like today?"

There was a certain level of threat to his tone that no doubt left the woman standing before him floundering for a few seconds, before finally, she mustered up her reply, her smile ever so slightly less confident than before.

"Alastor, just the fella that I was lookin' for!"

The sinner began, placing her right hand upon her hip as she inspected the condition of the nails on her left,

"Now I know ya like to be left alone and all on days like this, but I've got a surprise for ya back at my place that I promise you're gonna wanna see a-s-a-p."

She said with her typical air of confidence, immediately causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes in response, his facade of interest slipping ever so slightly before he seemed to catch himself once more, ever the gentleman.

"Oh do you now? Well, as utterly transfixed as I am over this little mystery of yours, I'm afraid that I just don't have the time to stop by today. Lot's of things to prepare for the upcoming broad-"

"Alastor."

Mimzy said sternly, cutting the overlord in question off rather uncharacteristically with a glare of her own.

"I know damn well that you don't got nothin' planned for the day, so don't you start fibbin', mista, I can see right through ya!"

She began, quickly changing the subject when she seemed to recall exactly who she was talking to at the increasing sound of static.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue with ya or nothin', so you do whatever it is that you wanna do. I just wanted to come over and warn ya that if you don't come by for a visit by the end of the day you're gonna feel like a real fool, okay?"

She emphasized her warning with a dramatized raise of her brow before she grinned rather wickedly and stepped down off of his doorstep, wiggling her fingers in a teasing little wave as she climbed into the back of the very same taxi she must have used to get to his dwellings in the first place.

"I'll see ya around dollface!"

She called out as the car pulled away, leaving Alastor with quite a few more questions than he'd had upon her already unplanned arrival.

What a fantastic start to one's day.

By the time that Alastor made the decision to actually stop by Mimzy's lounge, it was already dark outside, the subtle chirping of crickets reminding him briefly of home as he walked toward his destination, ever a fan of the more simplistic methods of transportation.

He thought of the sounds of crickets and all of the moments with you that their seemingly endless chirps had backed until their sounds faded away with the increasing sounds of the busier section of the city, wherein Mimzy's place was located.

Just as sleazy and sketchy as it had been above, so it was below, and Alastor felt a sudden sense of longing and familiarity as he stepped inside, the smell of cigarettes and the sound of ever so slightly out of tune jazz music reminding him of his days of swing dancing with you on the cracked dance floor of the place Mimzy had owned and operated in life.

The Radio Demon had only just begun to contemplate what you might have thought of a place like this one when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out his name, and he turned to find the lounge's owner walking quickly toward him, a wide grin that nearly rivaled his own splitting her cheeks.

"Well would you look who it is, Alastor the Radio Demon here in my lil' lounge, what a lucky lady I must be!"

Mimzy teased as she shouted over the obnoxiously loud music, immediately forcing the man in question to hold back another instinctual roll of his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense, I should think that luck has very little to do with it, my dear."

Alastor drawled, dragging his gaze downward to find his friend standing there, all but vibrating upon her feet, clearly excited by something, though he couldn't quite fathom what in Hell it could possibly be.

That is, until he heard another familiar voice pipe up from somewhere behind him, this one far less anticipated than the last, and by a rather significant margin at that.

"Mimzy?"

It called, an edge of stress to it that had the corners of the overlord's smile twitching downward ever so slightly for the briefest of moments.

Alastor watched as the ex flapper standing before him grinned widely in response to his barely noticeable reaction, her eyes shining as she allowed the person speaking to continue with their question.

"Who did you say the whiskey on the rocks was for?"

The lounge's owner hopped up onto a stool beside where she had been standing, gesturing to the space at the bar near where Alastor was still firmly planted, the ears atop his head twitching ever so slightly as they took in the sound of a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again for the very first time since he'd awoken with them camouflaged within his hair.

"Right here, doll. Speakin' of which, why dontcha c'mere and meet one of my regulars, huh?"

She asked as casually as she could manage, gesturing slightly for the still reeling sinner standing beside the bar to take a seat, which, to her surprise, he actually did, eyes seeking out the source of the voice he was hearing as if in utter disbelief.

And then, much to his shock, there you were.

Sure, you looked different as a sinner, but he would recognize you anywhere, and it certainly helped that your beautiful smile was the very same as he remembered it to be whenever he closed his eyes and found you there waiting for him.

Busy with what was likely a fairly large number of orders that your fellow bartender seemed to be doing very little to try and keep up with, you didn't seem to notice him at first, walking quickly toward your old friend with a glass of whiskey in hand, moving to place it down in front of the ever so prominent Radio Demon absentmindedly when suddenly, you froze, your hand still wrapped around the chilled cup.

The two of you stared at one another for several long moments, eyes widened and breaths halting entirely, until finally Mimzy spoke up from Alastor's right, her laughter obnoxious beside his ear, though he could scarcely bring himself to care with his gaze locked so heavily onto yours.

"Happy anniversary, ya lovebirds! Didn't expect that, didja?!"

She all but cackled, causing you to break eye contact with your husband to gawk at your friend.

"Wait a second, you knew he was here the whole time and didn't tell me?!"

You cried, hand flying to your mouth as Alastor began to regard the woman sitting beside him with a hugely threatening glare, the frightfulness of which was only increased by his unyielding grin, which was beginning to appear more and more malicious by the second.

"Woah woah woah, hold your horses!"

Mimzy shouted, waving her hands all about as if in surrender as she looked back and forth between the two of you nervously,

"She only just got down here this mornin' I swear!"

She explained hurriedly to the overlord beside her, causing the man's eye to twitch with effort as he struggled not to tear his old friend limb from limb while her entire bar watched on in horror.

Alastor tapped one clawed finger against the bar in front of him, his sharpened teeth appearing even more threatening than usual at his apparent anger over the situation at hand.

"And you didn't think, my dear,"

He began, his voice low,

"That I may have wanted to know sooner?"

The sound of static overtook the lounge as the sinner's anger increased with each word he said, causing everyone, including those hired to play the live music, to flee out the front door, leaving the trio to their own devices within the confines of the now empty space.

This fact worked extremely well for Alastor, who was only growing more enraged with each passing second as he considered the implication of Mimzy's actions further.

Not only had this woman, someone who had dared call him a friend for so many years, betrayed him by keeping your presence unknown, but she had also clearly employed you at her poor excuse for a lounge, and was now acting as if she had done him a favor by allowing him to be in the presence of the very woman he'd married.

The urge to rip the sinner to shreds with his very own claws was immense, and perhaps he even would have done so had it not been for a gentle hand coming to rest upon his forearm, the weight of it felt even through his shirt and coat.

Immediately, he stiffened, the familiarity of the touch so jarring that his previous thoughts of murder ceased within an instant as he turned his head to face you properly.

There, illuminated by the dim and yellowed lights of the bar, stood his wife, a woman who he had never expected to see again after all that he had done.

What good deed must he have committed in life to deserve such a blessing as this?

Surely there was some kind of mistake and someone would be descending from the heavens to collect you soon, an angel sent to Hell on accident by way of some great failure on Saint Peter's fault.

Your husband stared at you for a few moments, as if afraid you might disappear if he so much as blinked, before finally, you spoke up, your lips curving into a slightly nervous smile.

"Let her explain?"

You asked gently, taking up the very same tone you used to when asking your beloved to make an exception to one of his many strict internalized rules for your benefit.

'Stay home with me?'

'Give him a chance?'

'A slightly less violent solution, perhaps?'

(the latter of which he'd heard more often than he was willing to admit).

And this time, as always, he caved almost immediately, giving a rather stern nod of his head before looking toward Mimzy with an obviously strained smile on his lips.

She didn't have long, that was for sure.

If she wanted to explain, she'd better do so quickly.

And that much must have been clear, because the ex flapper started talking just about as fast as she could manage while still remaining intelligible.

And what a tale she spun, indeed.

With hurried words and a remarkably nervous expression the likes of which neither you nor your husband had ever seen Mimzy wear before, the sinner apologized profusely for not telling either of you sooner, promising that she had only been trying to make it a surprise in celebration of your anniversary.

Apparently, she had vastly overestimated how persuasive she could be, and had assumed (rather incorrectly) that Alastor would be much more urgent in his arrival to her lounge after she'd paid him a visit, meaning she hadn't exactly intended to have kept the two waiting so long for the "grand reveal" of her surprise.

And, slowly but surely, as Mimzy explained her thought process, your confusion and your husband's apparent anger all but melted away, both reactions coming to be replaced with something located somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

How very like your friend it was to meddle in such a manner, after all.

You'd missed this.

(Alastor wished dearly that he could say the same, but having been stuck alone with it for several years, he couldn't quite relate.)

Still, even he had to admit that Mimzy's actions were something far more similar to misguided kindness than intentional ill will.

Though, there was still one issue that was still bothering him...

"Mimzy."

Alastor interrupted the sinner in the middle of her ramble, watching as she immediately shut her mouth and looked up at him, a familiar bout of nervous laughter falling from her lips as she wrung her hands together.

Seeing that she was paying attention, the overlord continued,

"I understand what you were going for with your..." He trailed off for a moment before hearing you pipe up from where you stood on the other side of the bar,

"Efforts."

How amusing, it seemed that even after years of separation, not even death could sever the almost supernatural ability you had to understand what your husband was trying to say before even he truly did.

Alastor nodded,

"Exactly. But that being said, I struggle to understand one thing."

He leaned toward his old friend slightly, watching her eyes widen as he did so, clearly unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Why, pray tell, my dear, is my wife spending her precious time working at your lounge if you had every intention of returning her to me?"

The possessive tone to his voice made you blush, eyes moving to the ground as you awaited Mimzy's response.

She was quick to answer.

"Great question, dollface!"

She laughed nervously,

"I uh, I guess I kinda figured she'd know if she was down here then you would be too, so I wanted to give her a little bit of a distraction... and maybe get some extra help for a few hours in the meantime."

She admitted quietly, though by the time she was finished speaking, Alastor wasn't paying her much mind anymore, his mind now occupied with what he considered to be a far more pressing issue.

Because now that Mimzy mentioned it...

"Dearest,"

He began, immediately catching your attention as he turned to face you fully, allowing you to take in the sight of him and his new "look" for the first time since your arrival.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a fan, as different as it may have been.

"Speaking of 'down here',"

Alastor continued, amusement dancing within his eyes,

"What exactly are you doing in a place like Hell?"

Your gaze moved downward once more at that, and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you tried to find anything else to focus on.

Eventually though, you gave up, and forced yourself to meet your husband's gaze once more.

"I uh, I killed a parent..."

You muttered under your breath, immediately causing Alastor's eyes to widen slightly in surprise, one of his ears twitching slightly atop his head.

"Pardon?"

He asked in utter disbelief, unable to even begin to comprehend what he was hearing.

You, his beautiful and darling wife, had killed a parent of one of the children you taught?

Utterly unbelievable, perish the thought.

You sighed, crossing your arms in a mix of embarrassment and frustration,

"I killed a parent, Al. Lucy and Arnold's father. He was beating on them and their mama something fierce, and I saw the opportunity to put a stop to it one night when walking over to the station after work... He went down the alley between the grocers and the tailor to take a shortcut home or something like that, and I just followed him before I even knew what was really going on..."

You sounded hesitant as you spoke, eyes downcast once more until without a word, your husband pressed his gloved index finger to your chin, raising your gaze to his own once more so you could see the utter awe present there.

He was positively enamored.

"You killed Harry Wells?"

He asked, shock still coloring his tone as he watched you for your reaction.

Slowly, after a few seconds of contemplation, you nodded, cheeks still pink as you did your best to keep from trying to avoid Alastor's heavy gaze.

"I uh, yeah. I did."

The overlord sitting across from you chuckled softly, a sound that slowly grew in volume and exuberance until he was laughing outright, the familiar sound music to your ears even as he sighed and wiped a tear from his eye afterward, something he had done often in life.

He grinned even wider at you than before, the pride in his eyes obvious as he shook his head as if still in disbelief.

"And to think,"

He began, reaching across the counter to grab both of your hands so he could pull you closer, your forearms resting against the bar countertop.

"I hadn't thought it possible to love you any more than I already did."

You laughed at that, pressing your forehead against your husband's with a sigh,

"Well in that case, I suppose it's a good thing that I have all of eternity to prove you wrong, huh?"

Alastor chuckled softly, humming as he took in the sight of you, as if trying to commit each individual detail to memory.

"A good thing, indeed, dear heart."

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising. 

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can. 

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed. 

“A crab,” 

“Yes,” 

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby. 

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke. 

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book. 

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself. 

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else. 

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend. 

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend. 

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand. 

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. 

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return. 

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance. 

“You must really like the beach.” 

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too. 

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.” 

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock. 

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.” 

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him. 

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker. 

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up. 

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses. 

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look. 

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone. 

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain. 

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. 

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat. 

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh. 

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away. 

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job. 

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes. 

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.” 

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little. 

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words. 

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically. 

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you. 

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. 

And then you make a giant fucking mistake. 

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too. 

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. 

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body. 

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures. 

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. 

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back. 

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise. 

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic. 

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. 

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it. 

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.” 

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-” 

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing. 

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. 

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building. 

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk. 

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window. 

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above. 

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?” 

“Mm, a few times.” 

“How?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.” 

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,” 

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little. 

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat. 

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.” 

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false. 

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper. 

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. 

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. 

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. 

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen. 

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs. 

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.” 

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass. 

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. 

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general. 

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily. 

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more. 

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. 

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face. 

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. 

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you. 

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine. 

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that. 

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.” 

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips. 

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. 

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim. 

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly. 

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length. 

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly. 

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed. 

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this. 

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu. 

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum. 

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you. 

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this. 

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. 

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time. 

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him. 

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here. 

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.” 

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape. 

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?” 

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.” 

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.” 

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?” 

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin. 

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?” 

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.” 

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.” 

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.” 

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