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duskvsdawn · 29 days ago

Note

I’m sleep deprived Mootie so if this req doesn’t make sense just lmk I think you know who I am </3

But hear me out: Ver fic of him being stressed bc of overworking and then comes home to find his beautiful girl in his clothes which already gets him worked up and on top of that reader is wearing a new lingerie set in his color :p

≫ A/N: Haiii bestie! OMG A VER FIC LET'S GOOO I AM SO HYPED. I AM GONNA DO MY BEST TO MAKE YOU PROUD!! Ver, my beloved let us love you! ❤ it is a tiny bit different from what you requested, but I hope this is okay! Also wooo boy this is a bit longer than all the other stuff I've written recently, isn't it? I was just really feeling it I guess! Ver is a precious baby and I want to make him happy :) I hope you enjoy, sweetheart! ❤

CW: female reader, reader has germaphobia, depressed Ver gone horny, Ver gets turned on by reader wearing his hoodie, and even more when he sees what she's wearing underneath, Ver eats out reader and then reader rides him

Art credits.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads!

Wait, you're wearing what now?

You were sitting at the dinner table, typing up some paperwork for business meetings, when your boyfriend came home. "Hey babygirl, I'm home..." your boyfriend said with a tired smile as he dropped his bag at the door and took off his shoes. "Hey babygirl, welcome back!" you happily said initially because you were still looking at your laptop, so you didn't notice his weary look at first. But when you turned around, you could tell he was not feeling well at all. He looked like he was about to cry, so like the good girlfriend you are, you immediately got up and raced over to him to give him a big hug. "Hey, what's wrong?" you said as you gave him a kiss on his forehead. You could guess what's wrong. He's been overworking himself for months, and he has been in a terrible mood because of it most of the time. While he tried his best to talk through tears, you sat both of you down on the couch.

"I can't take it anymore, reader. The stress just keeps piling up, and I have no idea how I can possibly hold myself together like this. Taxes are around the corner, and I know they will be hell thanks to the streaming. There have been so many issues at work, and no one listens to each other, and no one respects each other either... I am fed up. I don't know what to do... And I don't know what I would do if you weren't here..." your boyfriend says as he hugs you tight, his tears staining your shoulder. He looks like he's on the brink of giving up, but you want to make sure that he will hopefully go to bed happy tonight.

"How about we take a shower together? I came home not too long ago, and germaphobia is treating me harshly today, and I am pretty sure it can help cheer you up too." You said as you kissed his cheek. Your boyfriend nodded, and the two of you headed towards the bathroom of your apartment. You turned on the water and waited for it to be steamy hot before both of you stepped into the shower. You washed yourself, and then washed him as well because he looked too tired to do it himself right now, so you didn't mind helping him.

The two of you got out of the shower and started drying yourselves off. While you were doing so, you sneaked towards the bedroom, because you had a plan to put on his sweater, with a special surprise underneath that you wouldn't reveal to him just yet. "Shall we go chill on the couch and watch a movie or something? And maybe order some takeout? Not really in the mood to cook today," you asked him from the bedroom, and he said it was a good idea. When he came into the bedroom, he saw you in his sweater, and only his sweater (or so he thought), and it made a blush appear on his cheeks. "That sweater... Oh my." your boyfriend said, and you asked him if he was okay with you wearing his sweater, knowing full well it always did things to him when you did. "N-no! Of course I don't mind! You just... You look so sexy wearing it." Ver said as he walked up to you to wrap his arms around you and kiss your neck. One of his hands wanted to wander under the sweater, but you swatted his hand away. "Nah-ah, sweetie. Not yet. You will get what you want in due time. First, we're gonna eat, okay?" you said with a mischievous smirk on your face as you walked back to the living room, phone in hand to order some food.

"What shall we order? What do you feel like eating? Because it's about you tonight," you said as you plopped down next to him on the couch and leaned your head on his shoulder. Your boyfriend took some time to think about what he wanted and eventually settled for some sushi. When you were ready to order and wanted to click on 'pay', he swatted the phone out of your hand. "'C'mon, at least put in my payment details instead of yours," he said with a pout. But you refused and clicked the 'pay' button before he could say anything else. Ver pretended to be mad, but you knew he was thankful. After his little pretend play, he whispered a soft 'thank you'. He'd never been good at accepting gifts, and neither were you, but despite that, both of you always spoiled the other when they most needed it.

While you were waiting for the food to arrive, both of you watched a stupid cliché romance movie with a predictable plot, but it was good enough to watch to pass the time. While the couple on the tv were making out, you got the urge to do the very same. You sat down on his lap and wrapped your arms around him, proceeding to leave a hungry kiss on his lips. Your boyfriend moaned into your mouth, feeling so cherished and so thankful to have you in his life. His hand wanted to slip under his hoodie once more because good god seeing you in his hoodie turned him on so much, but you didn't allow him, taking his hand in yours and placing it on top of your boobs instead.

The two of you were making out for a while, and it was clear the two of you were really horny at this point. But the moment his hand moved lower to squeeze your ass, the both of you were scared shitless thanks to that super loud doorbell you had. You got off of your boyfriend and skipped over to the door to get the food.

Both of you were happily eating, sharing your food as you continued watching that stupid cliché movie. "Hey babygirl... Thank you for tonight. I am really enjoying myself." Your boyfriend suddenly spoke up as he put his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head as you said, "You're welcome, Ver. Anything for you. But the night isn't over yet. I have a surprise for you later," you said as you winked at him. Your boyfriend went back to blushing and silently continued eating his food, really curious about this so-called surprise of yours.

You did have another surprise up your sleeve, though. The place you ordered from had lots of different stuff, including his favorite donuts. You got up from the couch to go back to the bag that the food came in, and you came back with the donuts and put them on his lap. "This is surprise number 1!" you said with a giggle as Ver turned into a stammering mess. He opened the box and was about to cry once more, but he was able to stop himself when you wrapped an arm around him and took a donut out of the box with your free hand, getting ready to feed it to him. "Say ah~" you say as you bring the donut up to his mouth. He happily lets you feed him the donut, and he feels even more in love with you than he ever has before. You are absolutely spoiling him, and he is so incredibly happy right now. All the worries of earlier today are sliding off his shoulders, like a massive weight being lifted off them. You know you can't take his stress away forever, because he is a very busy man after all, but you will make life at home as relaxing as possible for him until he feels better.

After you fed your boyfriend one of the many donuts you had ordered, you took the box off his lap and put it on the coffee table. He pouts, and in that moment, he is so incredibly cute you would eat him over any donut any day. But he perks up when you say, "We will save these for later, babygirl. I got one more surprise for you," you say with a wink as you offer your hand to him. He happily takes it and follows you as you lead him to the bedroom. "Sit down on the bed for me, please?" you ask him, and he happily complies. You saunter over to him and sit down on his lap. You place his hands at the hem of his hoodie, and you whisper, "Lift it, sweetheart." Your boyfriend does what you ask of him and throws the hoodie on the ground. When he sees what you're wearing underneath, he becomes a stammering mess. You were wearing a dark cerise babydoll with a matching thong, so basically his signature colour. "I had no idea they made lingerie in this specific colour..." your boyfriend says as he lets the fabric run through his hands. "Neither did I. It's a rare colour to come across since normally it's just red or pink. But I did my best, because I want to woo my favourite man on planet earth," you said as you put your hands on his shoulders and left searing kisses on his neck. "Consider me wooed" your boyfriend chuckles as he puts you on your back on the bed.

"Gosh, I just want to eat you out so bad... But I want you to keep this on," your boyfriend says as he pushes your legs apart to move between them. You lean on your elbows so you can see what he's doing, and the expression you see on his face makes you so incredibly drenched. He has such a horny look on his face, and he is so focussed on what you're wearing, moving his finger over the cerise satin that was covering your lips. He moves your thong to the side so he can start licking at your folds. One of your hands goes down to his head to grab hold of his raven and cerise coloured locks, and when he starts eating you out more intensely, you fall down on your back and your other hand does the very same. "Fuck, you taste so good, babygirl. Absolutely delicious. You taste even better than donuts." Ver chuckles as two of his fingers push into you to rub at your g-spot as he licks at your clit. "Even- ngh! Even better than donuts?" you pant between airy moans as his other hand snakes up to sneak under the fabric of the babydoll to pinch your nipple. "Oh yes, for sure, babygirl," your boyfriend said as his fingers started moving faster inside of you, "even better than donuts."

You could feel that the elastic in your lower stomach was close to snapping, and you knew that your boyfriend knew. He knew your body even better than you did at this point, so he started sucking so hard on your clit, and that was your undoing. With a whimper, you came all over the lower part of his face. You fell back on the bed as the muscles in your body relaxed again, while you were panting like a dog. Your boyfriend hovered over you to give you a hungry yet loving kiss, letting you taste yourself on his lips while one of his hands ran through your hair. While you were coming down from your high, your hands began to wander his body. While you regained a little bit of strength, you gently pushed him onto his back and got busy taking off his sweatpants and underwear.

"You want me to keep this on, right?" you asked him as you sat down on his lap. Your boyfriend hummed in response and moved to sit right up so he could hold you in his arms. "Alright, then I will do just that," you said as you moved your thong to the side once more and slowly sank down on his cock. Your boyfriend gasped, and you took this as an opportunity to shove your tongue into his mouth. You started bouncing on his dick with all you had, and you moaned into your boyfriend's shoulder because holy shit this felt so good. Your boyfriend was moaning just as much as you, however, because he needed this so much. He kept kissing you and biting at your neck because he just loved you so much and wanted to show you all his appreciation for you.

Your legs were starting to burn, and you slowed down because of it, but your boyfriend was happy to help you. His hands held your hips firmer to help you bounce up and down while his hips snapped against yours. "Fuck... I love you so much, babygirl. God, you feel so good... Fuck... Doing so well for me," your boyfriend groaned while he was the one panting like a dog this time. "I- Mmm... I love you, too!" you mewled as you could tell he was getting closer. His grip on your hips had tightened, his movements became erratic, and he was doing his best to remain quiet. But he wanted you to get there with him, and you wanted the very same. One of your hands went down to your clit to pinch it softly while your other arm was still tightly wrapped around your lover. Your boyfriend sucked some more on your neck, because he knew you loved that, and you were getting so incredibly close.

"I'm so close... Ver... So close..." you whimpered as you felt that delicious pressure building in your lower stomach. "Cum for me, babygirl. Cum with me. Let go... Fuck I'm not gonna hold back much longer myself..." your boyfriend moaned in between kisses at your neck. And with a few more moves of your hips and a few more thrusts of his, both of you fell apart, you a tiny bit before him. You fell against Ver's chest, and he lay back down on the bed, with his arms wrapped around you so he could take you down with him. He was still inside of you, slowly getting softer, but that was fine for both of you. Both of you were too satisfied to care. Your boyfriend left a loving kiss on your temple as you dug your head into his neck, smelling his lovely, unique scent that always made you feel right at home.

"Thank you for tonight, reader. I feel much better now. I love you," your boyfriend whispered the last part as his hand moved through your hair to rub the back of your head. "I love you, too," you replied, muffled by your face still pressed against his neck. The two of you stayed like this for a while, just silently cuddling and exchanging some kisses. And eventually, both of you fell asleep. Ver dreamed of you feeding him donuts, and a smile appeared on his face because of it.

#nijisanji en #nijisanji #meli writes #nijisanji smut #nijisanji x reader #ver vermillion #ver vermillion fluff #ver vermillion smut #ver vermillion x reader #xsoleil #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil smut #xsoleil fluff #nijisanji fluff #nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en smut #nijisanji en fluff

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triptychgrip · 5 months ago

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Have another ficlet, taking place a bit over a year later from Yurio's POV. The scene occurs a few months after Viktor become Yurio's coach

---

As Yuri neared the kitchen, he could hear the blender running and hoped this meant that Viktor was whipping up a batch of mango lassis, courtesy of Chef Mohit’s infamous recipe.

“Viktor, you better not have skimped on ordering the maalu pan! Last time, you only got one dinky little bag and– ”

Yuri’s words came to a halt as he spotted Viktor at the kitchen island wearing not only a white sundress, but jewelry as well as makeup, too.

For several long moments they just gazed at one other, Yuri’s mind reeling at the realization that Viktor had finally taken that step. The one they'd been wanting to for months, ever since showing him their first clothing haul (which, incidentally, had almost prompted Yuri to faint, balking at the receipts when they had divulged the total.)

Seeing the corresponding flash of uncertainty in those blue eyes, Yuri hated himself for a second, and willed his mind to find the right words to dispel the shadow that had begun to cloud his coach's visage.

He was surprised, yes, but ultimately the main feeling coursing through his veins was pride. Yuri was now mature enough to be able to admit it: he was proud of Viktor for being brave enough to dress the way they wanted to in front of strangers.

“That dress looks nice on you,” he matter-of-factly remarked.

Immediately embarrassed around how pleased Viktor looked, he felt compelled to temper his compliment.

“You old crone,” he added on, hastily.

But the damage was done, because all of a sudden, they were rounding the island and moving towards him with surprising speed.

“~Yuraaaa~, so sweet!” they sing-songed, sounding absolutely over-the-moon as they practically dove to hug him. “I was hoping you'd like it!”

After five seconds of acquiescing to this overwrought affection, Yuri began to writhe, pushing at Viktor’s strong arms until they loosened.

Suddenly remembering the delicious takeout choice for the evening, he directed a withering look their way.

“No wonder you two go to the dry cleaners’ so often. What kind of idiot wears white to eat curry?”

But like the weirdo they were, Viktor just laughed and smiled even more brightly at him before reaching for something on the countertop.

“A fearless idiot, Yura!” they crowed, before holding up 3 sizable bags clearly labeled ‘maalu paan’.

Ok, so maybe his coach wasn’t a complete idiot, Yuri mused, before grabbing a bag and tearing it open.

“I take it your friends have either given into Makka, Meni and Goya’s pleas for attention or are on a house tour courtesy of my lovely Yuuri?” Viktor asked him.

They switched the blender back on, sending the luridly yellow concoction inside churning, mesmerizingly.

“The former,” he answered, loudly, before biting into the deep-fried delight.

“How was class? You had that speaking quiz today, right?” Viktor asked, once they'd turned the blender off.

Yuri swallowed a large mouthful of food before grumbling, wishing he could have put said event from his Intermediate Japanese class out of his mind.

“It was beyond embarrassing,” he muttered in reply, recounting the many mistakes he’d made.

He was just about to relay a particularly torturous moment when Katsudon’s voice filtered through to his ears.

“Viten’ka, why do our dogs act like they’ve never been cuddled or pet in their entire lives?” Yuuri asked, heading their way with a small pout on his face. “Yura’s new friends probably think we’re terrible pet owners.”

Multiple laughs rang out at these words, and Yuri turned to see Alma transporting Makka in her arms, Luca carrying Goya and giggling as she stuck her nose directly into his ear, and Brady bringing up the rear, dog-less (and, frankly, looking a little jealous that he didn’t have a furry companion to hold).

“We give them ample kisses and attention, we promise!” Viktor crowed, with their typical heart-shaped smile.

“Alma, Luca, Brady, meet Viktor: my spouse, coach, and the best figure skater in history,” Katsudon then proudly announced. “Vitya, Luca is very graciously and patiently enduring Goya’s sniff-vestigation, Alma has succumbed to Makka’s relentless affection, and though Brady is dog-less, I can assure you, Brady: that won’t last long.”

“Hiiii, everyone! It’s really great to meet you all,” Viktor responded, bouncing up and down a little on the balls of their feet with the kind of dorky excitement that Yuri had long grown used to witnessing.

Viktor (re)embracing gender-fluidity

Viktor glanced at Yuuri for moral support, feeling emboldened by the warmth in his smile. To buy himself some time, he took a large gulp of his iced tea, then gave Makka a few head scritches.

He then attempted to utter the final sentence of his, admittedly, clumsy speech.

“So…in light of all that, I’ve come to the realization…

His voice faltered, his brain thrown off by the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.

Fuck. Why was this so difficult?

Every fiber of his being told him that there was an extremely slim chance of his sister-in-law reacting negatively to this admission, but even so, he couldn’t help it.

He was terrified.

If it hadn’t been for the squeeze of Yuuri’s fingers around his own, he wouldn’t have been able to continue the monologue that the two of them had painstakingly crafted, the Japanese having been rehearsed nearly ad nauseum.

“I don’t identify as a man…though it’s probably most accurate to say that I don’t identify as only a man,” Viktor murmured, trying and failing to meet Mari’s eyes. “I’ve actually known this for awhile – which is a whole other story that I’m not ready to get into – but it’s only recently that I decided I wanted to be open about it with people other than Yuuri.”

The next half-minute or so was punctuated by little more than the whirring of the two newly-installed window air conditioning units: gifts from him and Yuuri after literally two years of pleading to be allowed to contribute to a few key onsen upgrades.

If Viktor weren’t already so used to Mari’s stolidity, he might have been more offended by her non-reaction. Other than continuing to chew slowly and methodically on the grilled salmon chunks of her “second breakfast”, her face barely moved.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his husband fidgeting, his eyebrows knitted together with burgeoning anxiety.

Just when he was sure that Yuuri would beg for her to say something, Mari looked up and voiced a sentence that made Viktor’s chest ache.

“You should let me pierce your ears.”

And…

Oh.

Suddenly Viktor’s eyes were stinging, brimming with tears he was helpless to fight.

He was too overwhelmed to do anything about them, but he did splutter a laugh at the rapidity with which Yuuri whipped out his favorite Makka-printed handkerchief, put it into his hand and mechanically brought his arm up to his face.

You should let me pierce your ears.

It was a seven word reaction that was so completely Mari: a suggestion offered in the measured, almost subdued sort of tone that someone else might have taken for disinterest. And yet, given the circumstances, it was the most wonderfully validating reaction. It was a simultaneous thank you for telling me and I’m glad you trusted me with this and this doesn’t change how I see you (at least not in any sort of negative way).

It said: you should tell mom and dad because they’d be happy for you.

Goya gave a loud whine and rose up on her hind legs to paw at Yuuri’s shoulder, and Viktor’s stomach gave a tiny lurch when he realized that he was crying as well.

It seemed that Mari wasn’t feeling nearly as generous towards her brother, though. Quick as lightning, she reached over to steal a flaky bite of Yuuri’s fish and popped it into her mouth, unceremoniously.

“Cut it out, otouto, you’re stealing Vik-chan’s thunder,” she quipped mid-chew, though her lips were twitching. “You’re not allowed to cry more than hi– ”

She stopped, abruptly, her eyes widening in a very uncharacteristic show of hesitation. When she next spoke, it was clear that she felt a bit embarrassed.

“I was about to say ‘him’, but then I realized I was making assumptions.”

She looked a bit sheepish and Viktor couldn’t help but beam at her through his blurred vision.

“Him is fine, for today, anyway,” he croakily replied before turning to Yuuri to begin helping him dry his own tears.

Relief and euphoria mingled in his brain, dizzying him ever so slightly as he worked.

Could acceptance really be this easy?

If okaasan and tousan reacted even half as well, then perhaps the fissures in his heart that had been growing for over a decade would actually have some hope of mending.

The decision Viktor had relayed to Yakov in April of 2009 had gone on to taint some of his happiest memories. It had lent them a palpable bitterness, as if his words regarding the forked path in his career had been emblazoned upon his tongue.

He’d had to give his former coach some credit, however, because Yakov’s trademark gruffness had been nowhere in sight for the duration of that conversation. In fact, his eyes had looked the saddest Viktor had ever seen them, and even now, it brought a lump to his throat when he remembered how Yakov had croakily told him that it might be possible one day: that there might come a time when Viktor could escape the unrelenting grip of the federation…

That there might come a time when he could call himself whatever he wanted, could wear whatever he wanted on or off the ice, and love whomever he wanted.

Of course, this day hadn’t materialized until after his retirement, but Viktor knew there was little good in dwelling on lost time. Now, the best thing he could do was to look to the future and dictate things on his own terms.

“I plan on taking things in steps,” Viktor now said to Mari before leaning into the solid presence of Yuuri’s arm at his back.

Though he was still sniffling, Yuuri’s fingers languidly rubbed up and down his spine, carefully tracing the knobs through his thin t-shirt. The casual comfort meant more to him than he could possibly convey.

“It’ll probably be a few months before I’ve decided on what exactly this all means, but for now, I just…wanted to tell you,” Viktor quietly went on, feeling gratified when his sister-in-law accepted his statement with a quick nod.

Amusement then plucked at the corners of his mouth when she made to steal another bite of fish.

Yuuri failed to react quickly enough to prevent it, and his surly, delayed outburst made both him and Mari begin to laugh.

“You’re not piercing his ears, neechan! We’ll go to a proper establishment, this isn’t The Parent Trap!”

…

Don’t get me wrong: I love canon’s emphasis on acceptance regarding both gender identity and sexuality, but since discovering YOI four years ago, I’ve often found myself wondering about more realistic scenarios as it relates to skating politics/Russia’s conservatism.

Viktor being able to reclaim the gender-fluidity of his teenage years, post-retirement, is one of the things I was most eager to explore in my 2018/2022 Olympic Games WIP series. While this is a theme that appears throughout (especially in part 1), I would one day like to publish a one-shot wholly dedicated to covering Viktor’s journey (which the ficlet above would be part of).

#here's another ficlet #genderfluid viktor nikiforov #genderfluid victor nikiforov #my writing #my fanfiction #yuri!!! on ice #yuri plisetsky #viktuuri #post canon yuri on ice #yuri on ice #Gold's On The Inside fic-verse #honestly being able to “buy” cool clothes for Viktor has been so fun

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dragonsareourfuture · 4 years ago

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Ways the Death Note Cast Show They Trust You

I lost some inspiration towards the middle there, I’m sorry!!

- he will always have Watari make extra servings of food just for you. It’s a bit startling at first. So suddenly there’s just food in front of you that you think is for L, but when you push it towards him, he pushes it right back to you.

“You don’t want it?” He’d ask, leaving you confused until you finally put the pieces together.

“Oh, I…I guess I didn’t realize it was for me. My bad.” You begin eating. “Thank you.”

L simply hums and continues with whatever he was just up to.

- You know that thing cats do where they’re sitting perfectly still, eyes closed, guard slightly down, but still not quite asleep? I can picture L doing something like this during any moment of downtime he gets. Just sitting, scrunched up in his chair or wherever he happens to be, eyes closed but the cogs in his brain are still turning. You notice him doing this when it is only you and him in the room, simply thinking it’s because of the moment of rare solitude. Little do you know, it’s because he trusts that you won’t hurt him or let anything bad happen to him.

- L is a person who prefers to be in charge of his own life. He likes knowing what’s going on around him at all times and when things are out of his hands he can’t help but feel uncomfortable. However, with a person he’s developed a close relationship with and knows he can trust with everything he has, L will feel more comfortable leaving decisions up to them. You’ll have to start small though, like being the one to plan a surprise date. He might feel a bit uncomfy at the beginning, shifting around and possibly even insisting he sit so that he can see the exits clearly, but he eases into it eventually. Soon you both find yourselves joking around in the odd way that you do and gorging on cake and ice cream.

Mello

- being vulnerable is something Mello isn’t too keen on. He already feels vulnerable most of the time and would kick himself if he let that show through his actions. If Mello truly trusts you, he will feel as though he can be vulnerable around you without any judgement on your end. Small acts that show vulnerability such as asking you to help him with something he can’t quite handle on his own — even if it’s something as simple as not being able to reach something off a shelf or being unsure about how to fix something. Eventually, he’ll work his way up to the bigger stuff like being physically wounded in front of you or having a mental block.

- Sharing his clothes with you or letting you pick his outfit for him. Now, it sounds like he’s just being a little diva and that’s only partially true. But his clothes are important to him, they’re a factor that sets him aside from his plain-dressing rival and in his eyes they make him more interesting than him, visually at least. He’s happy to dress you up, and it is true that he has to have a close relationship with you to want to do so, but you should be especially proud if he lets you alter his appearance in any way.

- He likes to believe that he’s had his goals set out from the beginning. Surpass Near, become the next L, and go on from there. What he pushes to the back of his brain are the moments he’s been studying and he’s asked himself ‘What if I went down a different path?’. He quickly pushes these thoughts away, but they keep coming back. What would life be like if this wasn’t an option for him? What if he were a writer? What if he lived in the city with people he loves and went to the movies every Friday? Unwillingly, he has a whole list of possibilities. If he truly trusts you, he’ll share every single one with you. Whether it’s dropping hints or confessing them one by one late at night, he can’t help but feel that they’re safe with you.

Misa

- it seems a bit surface level, but it’s true — Misa will talk down on Light in front of you if she trusts you. But it’s not straight away. She had developed a lot of courage to actually break up with him, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t still doubt her decision to do so. It’s only when she finds out from you how loved ones are supposed to treat each other — with kindness and respect — that she feels her decision to ditch Light was the entirely right one. Slowly, she’ll start to admit to you all the things she hated about Light, starting with some of his mannerisms and building up to something like how he forced her to leave the entertainment business.

- Misa is…dramatic. She likes to go above and beyond for someone she’s infatuated with and make sure they’re the happiest they can be. If she trusts you enough to develop this kind of infatuation and, with some development, less of an obsession and more of a strong, bonding love, you will be doted on to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. You could be at home during one of her work days and you’ll get a delivery of lunch from your favorite takeout place because Misa was ‘thinking of you <3’, as she explains when you text her asking why food randomly showed up at your place. It’s rather sweet.

- Misa’s a pretty talkative person in general, that’s a well known fact. She’ll talk about clothes, a cute birdie she saw on her way home, really anything that comes to mind. But, she’ll do that with about anyone who’ll listen. It’s gradual, so it’s hard to notice, but if Misa grows to trust you she’ll start talking about some of the more serious things that have been on her mind for a while, those things that she thought would scare off anyone she liked because of how personal they are to her. Her family before they died, for example. It’s something that Misa thinks about. So much. But she doesn’t really talk about it. She wants to forget, put the past behind her but because she’s never talked about it with anyone it’s hard to do that. She’ll talk about her family to you, the little things her sister used to do and some things her parents did that she misses.

Matsuda

- Matsuda often begins to idolize those who he thinks are trustworthy and have a good heart. He starts to tell you how much he loves when you do x and that he wishes he could perform as well as you in that area. In a sense, he trusts you with his vulnerability, letting you know that he thinks of himself as less than satisfactory and how he wishes he could do better, only he channels it by pointing out good things about you. If…that makes sense.

- This sounds dire, but he’ll risk his life for the people he completely, without a doubt trusts. He was willing to do so with Chief Yagami, someone he saw as a father figure, and he would certainly be willing to do so with you, someone who he feels he has a deep emotional connection to. Whether you’re in a situation where he would need to or he’s just saying that he would, he means it.

- Matsuda trusts you to not make fun of him when he overshares or talks too much or anything his coworkers brush him off for. He feels that he can talk about things he finds funny and talk about his life without worrying about what you think of him when he does.

Matt

- he would drop everything to help you. Whether that’s dropping his game to help you kill a bug or leaving his duties behind to help you out of a life or death situation. Whichever scenario you happen to find yourself in he’s there no matter what.

- He’ll invite you into his personal life. I know this is kind of a given but Matt had the chance to become the next L. He had the chance to become something “great” and he said “ummm rather not” to it because it wasn’t something he wanted. If he shares this information with you, he trusts you not to leave him for something better when you discover the status he could have had and refused. He trusts you to appreciate him because of him and not the intelligence everyone but him cherishes.

- He leaves you alone around important technology and software he’s hacked. Unfortunately for him, betrayal comes with the business he’s got himself into and, if Matt really trusts you on both a professional and emotional level, he won’t have a problem worrying about whether or not you’ll take advantage of his coffee break to gather information for some other organization or something. He will literally just go “mkay babe I gotta go fuel up on caffeine real quick, you’re good watching the hacked government database right? Cool cya.”

Near

- Near trusts you to take him to public places. Sounds simple, yeah. But Near has never liked crowds, or even just too many strangers in a wide open place. It’s strange to everyone observing how one day he decides he needs a new toy, his old one having broken due to old age, and asks you to take him to the toy store. He’s questioned, people wondering why he wouldn’t rather you just go alone but Near insists. Apparently the toy that broke is special addition and he wants to make sure you get the right one. He stays close to you the whole way, not really saying much, but he’s there and that’s a big step for him.

- He helps you out with puzzles. Basically cheats for you. When he’s eyeing one specific empty slot, coughing lightly to get your attention, just know that he’s not helping you because he thinks you need it. Quite the opposite actually. With anyone else, he believes that they should be able to solve it on their own. He thinks that if they can’t, then that’s their fault. But with you…it’s as if he trusts that you’re intelligent enough without the puzzle being an indicator of that intelligence, so much so that he thinks the puzzle itself is obsolete when it comes to you. He doesn’t need a puzzle to know how smart you are.

- He’ll eat the foods you make him. Near’s picky eater-ness is above that of a child who only eats chicken tenders and pizza. He doesn’t eat that many people’s food because he knows it’s probably not he way he likes it. But with you, he trusts that you respect his eating habits and know him well enough to get it right the first time. Though he does check the food out for a bit, he’ll eat it. Sometimes all of it. Fuckin astonishing to Rester who had attempted many times to heat up microwave dinners for the guy.

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scuttling · 4 years ago

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song epilogue (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, romance, fluff, a final resolution, smut; oral (male receiving), penetration, got a lot spicier than i initially imagined, oc was feeling herself words; 6,503

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

author’s note; fun fact, I’ve never actually written an epilogue before, but it felt fitting this time around, to tie up all the loose(ish) ends and satisfyingly bring it to a close – she says as if she isn’t writing drabble upon drabble (and more) lol but you get what I mean. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ~

“The rabbits!” Seokjin cried out of the blue, jumping to his feet.

Immediately you found yourself slumped into the sofa, having been leaning against him, cuddled up all morning. You sat up, confused as you looked at him. “What?”

His eyes were wide with panic. “I need to feed them! Arin will kill me if she finds out.”

“Relax,” you chuckled, taking a hand in yours to tug him back to you. He stepped between your legs but kept standing. “They won’t starve to death. When did you feed them last?”

“Last night,” he thought. “Just after I came home from work. Maybe 7.”

You checked his watch, seeing it was just gone eleven. “They’ll be fine for another half hour.” You stood up, tugging his hand again, but this time to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s take the stuff for brunch to your place.”

You’d stayed in bed for a while this morning, just happily holding and kissing one another, still buzzed and definitely still basking in that post-orgasm glow. When you’d finally managed to escape the warmth of your sheets, you’d showered together. Your bathroom was a lot smaller than his – obviously – and your shower bath was even tinier, but you made it work, until you didn’t, Seokjin nearly toppling out over the side while simultaneously nearly getting rolled up in the shower curtain. Of course that had given you the giggles, but you’d composed yourself, finishing up, getting dry and then getting dressed for the day. Luckily, Seokjin had some clothes at your place, so he didn’t have to recycle the ones he’d slept in last night.

You were treating this day like a Sunday, making the most of being lazy on the sofa before you inevitably had to go and cook brunch up.

He stopped in his tracks, making you turn back. “You sure?” He asked, pulling you to him, nuzzling his nose against your jaw as his arms wrapped around waist. “I wanted to stay here this weekend.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, linking your hands around his neck as he placed a kiss behind your ear. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together.”

He pulled back to see you, his plump lips already curved into a smile. “You speak such truth. I’m forever awestruck by you.”

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from stealing a small kiss.

Seokjin decided he wanted more, pressing kiss upon kiss to your lips with enjoyable hums. “I love you,” he declared causally after the last that lingered a little. Then he grinned. “How many time will I say that today before it gets annoying?”

You smiled fondly at him. “You could never be annoying.” You got the last kiss. “I love you.”

A lazy day was a lazy day regardless of the house. After Seokjin made sure the rabbits were happy, fed and had fresh water, you started brunch, eating it on the kitchen island as the rain continued, falling down against the tall windows. Any other day you would have found the weather depressing, but not today. Not when you were bursting with happiness and beautifully content. Besides, that just meant you had even more of a reason to do nothing, cuddled up on Seokjin’s large corner sofa as you picked up the series the both of you had started watching a couple of weeks ago.

At around 5pm you started toying with the idea of going out for dinner somewhere, but then you hadn’t brought along the right clothes and by now it was raining heavier than it had all day. The idea of putting on makeup made you feel even lazier, so you decided on takeout in the evening and a movie instead.

As Seokjin was arranging the containers and plates around the coffee table, ready to dig in, movie ready to go, you slipped out a question. There’d been something on your mind all day, nothing major of course, but still, you didn’t quite know how to bring it up.

“What time is Arin coming home tomorrow?”

“I’m unsure,” he replied, briefly looking over at you before he opened up the black bean noodles. “I need to text Nana.”

You nodded, opening you mouth to ask a follow up question, but hesitating last minute. He looked at you again, sensing your caution and raised a concerned eyebrow. You hated seeing him worried, so you rushed ahead. “Do you want me to go home beforehand?”

“No, of course not,” he exclaimed, before he furrowed his brow. “Unless you want to of course… If you feel uncomfortable.”

“I don’t,” you were quick to reassure. You wanted to be there actually, if he was okay with it. “I was thinking her and I should clear the air.”

You could see Seokjin deep in thought for a brief second before he nodded, sitting back against the sofa to take your hand. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.”

Seokjin had already told you some of what he and Nana had spoken about Thursday evening, so you knew not to be worried about any potential conflict, but still, you didn’t want to blindside her. “We should probably check with her first though, right?”

“Okay,” he agreed. Giving you a smile, he squeezed your thigh. “I’ll call her after the movie.”

“Should I turn off the lamp?”

You nodded in reply, watching Seokjin lean over his side of the bed to flick the only form of light you had off. When he rolled onto his back, you immediately pounced, hooking a leg over his hip to settle yourself on top of him, your stomachs flush. It may have nearing 12am, but sleep was not the thing on your mind.

“Oh, hello,” he responded, happily surprised as his hands found your hips, nudging you closer.

“Hello,” you smiled, wasting no time with meeting your mouths.

You were a woman on a mission, knowing exactly what you wanted. Today had been lovely, and yes, you’d already had sex today, but when had that ever stopped you before? You were happy and in love and just couldn’t keep your hands (and lips) off of your boyfriend. On top of that, you were just in a great mood, full of positivity. Nana was fine with meeting tomorrow and that meant you could all clear the air and move forward. You’d finally get to see Arin again too, you’d missed her.

Things were perfect, if you did say so yourself, everything heading in the right direction, and right now you wanted to celebrate that. With Seokjin. In the best kind of way.

“I would have kept the light on if I knew we’d be kissing,” Seokjin murmured wetly against your lips, his tongue missing yours by a second as you started to trail your way down his chin, throat and then his chest, kissing over his pyjama shirt.

He felt you start to undo the buttons, his cock beginning to rouse expectantly which was highly amusing for you. As you exposed more and more of his chest your lips followed suit, kissing down his stomach, past his belly button to stop just above his pyjama pants, the tiny hairs that littered the skin tickling. You pulled the shirt open, working your way up again, Seokjin helpfully keeping your hair out of your eyes as he tried to hungrily watch you at work, the light of the moon shining through the gaps in the drapes casting enough light to be able to make you out.

He let out a shaky moan when you flicked the tip of your tongue against his right nipple, laughing at himself afterwards.

Back at his mouth, you didn’t stay too long before you sat up, straddling him.

“Where are you going?” He wailed, annoyed you didn’t want his kisses.

But it wasn’t that you didn’t want them, more like you wanted something else…

You moved downwards, covers collecting at the end of the bed as you slotted in between his eagerly opening legs, his hips bucking when you cupped his now fully erect (and trapped) member. You began to run your hand up and down it, a grin on your face as you looked up. “You’re so easy.”

Eyes having adjusted, you saw his grin was a little more bashful, eyes half lidded as he admired the view before him. “Only for you.”

Ever the flatterer, you had him inside the warmth of your mouth in no time. You weren’t shy by any means, especially now what with all the times you and Seokjin had been intimate, but there was something about being surrounded in near darkness that gave you a fresh surge of confidence. In the glow of the moon, you could make out Seokjin’s parted lips, his eyes piercing the ceiling, giving you a glorious view of his thick neck, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly as his breathing got shallower, just enjoying the moment. He looked handsome as hell – mixed with that pyjama shirt pushed sinfully open, his toned chest and stomach on full display. For you.

Taking him deeper, you reached for him, running your hands up his stomach, feeling the firm ridges of muscle. He let out a deep moan, looking down to take your hands in his, eyes heavy with desire as he clasped them tight. You eased up a little, smiling around his cock before you started sucking the tip, caressing your tongue over him time and time again.

He lifted his hips up, eager for more and you wrestled one of your hands free from his to clasp it around the base of his dick, feeling how wet it was from your saliva as you slowly started jerking him off, placing small, wet kisses against his slit.

With the hand still on his torso, he slipped his fingers between yours, head relaxing back, eyes shut once he felt you softly begin to massage his balls, coating them in the spit that had dripped down onto them. You took him deeper again, picking up speed as you bobbed your head up and down. The sensation just about exploded his mind.

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he gasped, free hand running through his hair and tugging at the roots. “If you keep that up I’ll cum.”

You found it cute how bad his voice trembled, pulling off to smirk. “And is that a bad thing?”

“Nope, it’s not bad,” he agreed, a little more himself now that you’d spared him for a few seconds. “I just thought we could do some other stuff too.”

“Some other stuff?” you laughed, lifting on your knees to crawl closer to him. You continued to massage his balls, feeling them tighten. “Like what?”

He took a shaky breath, rolling his hips into your touch. “Like…” He paused to groan. Now you were jerking him again, your thumb rolling small circles against his slit. “Sex.” He tried again. “I want to have sex with you.”

“You do?”

“I always want to have sex with you.”

And impatient now, his hands gripped your waist, tugging you to him. You squealed, fingers slipping from his cock to land on his chest, the movement sudden enough to make you think you were falling. He kissed you hastily, a soft growl in his throat as his palm grazed over your ass, fingertips playing with the frill detail of your shorts.

“I’d be inside you 24/7 if it was possible.”

“God, I want it to be possible so bad.” You practically lamented, his mouth on your neck now, licking strips up and down the sensitive skin.

He made another noise, cock twitching against your thigh. You felt impatient yourself now, hands finding the collars of his shirt to push it over his shoulders, needing to strip him. He lifted his back of the bed, letting you shimmy the item off before his hands grabbed at your vest, lifting it up over your head in no time. Your mouths met in a rush, his hands palming your breasts, making you moan out, nipples sensitive as he pinched them between his thumb and forefinger.

You went to move, wanting to get rid of his pants but he stopped you, fingers wrapping around your ribs.

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait,” he babbled, pulling you closer. “Let me taste them.” To explain further, he caressed a finger down your left breast, making you shudder. “Mine,” he whispered possessively and then you found yourself hovering over his face, his hands cupping the soft, sensitive flesh as he kissed and sucked them in turn.

You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, shorts uncomfortable as he swirled his tongue around and around your nipple, nipping it gently as he pulled away. “I love your body,” he breathed – hard. “I love you.”

“Mhmm,” you moaned deeply, watching him suck on the other boob now. Your fingers dug into the pillow, arms trembling with pleasure. “I love you, too.”

He made a noise of approval, finally letting you break free so you could get his pants down over his hips. His erection was so hard by now it almost stood poker straight, veins angrily visible even in the faint lighting. Pyjama pants below his knees, he eagerly kicked them off the rest of the way, watching as you peeled off your shorts. Both naked, he moaned as you straddled him, sliding up and down his cock teasingly, coating it in your arousal.

“Honey, please,” he pleaded. His voice shook. “Don’t tease. It’s not very nice.”

“You tease me all the time.”

He groaned weakly, unable to think of a comeback. You sat straighter, chest wet and shiny in the moonlight, his doing, and you knew he could see it too, his dark eyes watching you silently – hungrily. He looked so good, you couldn’t wait any longer. Wrapping your hand around him, you ambitiously went for it, pushing down and taking him whole. It surprised you both, groaning together as you caught your breaths.

Although, you didn’t give him much time to get used to the feeling of your warmth hugging him tight before you began to ride him hard and fast, bouncing up and down loudly before you stopped to swivel your hips. He could feel you everywhere, his eyes practically rolling back into his head as you continued your onslaught.

“Y/N…” He murmured, voice weak as he watched you begin to bounce on top of him again, his hands travelling up your thighs to land on your waist. “Y/N,” he tried again, unable to piece together a sentence. “Shit, keep going like that…mmfph, yeah, just like that…”

When you felt his fingers digging into your skin you wrapped your hands around his, pushing them away. “N-no touching,” you panted, feeling him lift his legs and fold them at the knee behind you, giving you something to lean back on.

“Seriously,” he asked, sounding annoyed, yet dreadfully turned on.

You smirked. “I want you to lay back and watch.”

He matched the curve of your lips. ‘Oh, I can do that no problem, honey.” He stubbornly kept his voice steady, thrusting inside of you once before he stilled his hips completely. “Could watch you ride me all night.”

On cue, he folded his arms behind his head, biceps bulging. The casual manner got you instantly hot, bouncing along his cock a couple more times before you leaned forward, changing the angle and in turn hopefully sending him crazy. You moved back and forth, griding all over him, your arousal soaking into his pubic hair. You were wetter than usual tonight, turning yourself on as you rode him, hearing the soft squelching where your bodies met, the pressure on your clit eliciting moan after moan.

You stared him straight in the eyes, noticing the way his jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in his left cheek, but he continued to persevere, stubborn to the bone.

That was until he felt your breasts graze against him. His hips jerked up, moaning as he was unable to stop rolling into you, and you let him, let him fuck up into you, moaning softly.

He grunted. “Someone’s getting tired.”

You shook your head with a whine. You could be stubborn too. Sitting up, you attempted to bounce again but his hips were working too fast by now, his fists grabbing the pillow below his head to gain some momentum. You cried out as he thrust harder, Seokjin’s own noises of pleasure gasping out of him as if he’d been holding his breath.

“S-seokjin,” you panted, shakily holding onto his thighs.

He wasn’t relenting. If anything he fucked you harder. “Honey, just give up,” he said matter-of-factly, yet his voice was strained, veins in his neck visible.

Confidently he brought his hands to your hips, knowing you wouldn’t stop him now, too far gone. You let your eyes flutter closed, concentrating on how good his cock felt inside you. The beautifully crude sound of him pounding into you.

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me make you feel good now. It’s your turn…”

You nodded, moaning brokenly, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself on your back, Seokjin situated between your spread legs, finding home once again inside the warmth of your body.

You grasped his shoulders, making more noise as he rolled his hips into you, and hooked your legs around his waist, wanting him as deep as possible

“Uh-uh-uh,” he grinned, taking your hands off him. “No touching.”

You started complaining but then he pushed your hands above your head, holding your wrists tight with one hand. “Nghnn. Seokjin,” you moaned, feeling him start to fuck you with his entire weight. His back looked delectable and all you wanted to do was rake your fingernails down it but you couldn’t.

Although, being pinned down by him wasn’t such a terrible thing.

After a couple of minutes he pressed the elbow of the arm that had you imprisoned into the mattress, careful not to squash you as he brought the other hand between your legs, beginning to roll your swollen clit between his fingertips. Gasping, your legs fell back to the bed, circling your hips in time with his motions, wanting to cum now that he’d put the idea into your head.

He chuckled at your eagerness causing you to whine. “Why d-don’t you put those lips to good use?”

“Like this, baby?” He smirked, leaning his face in closer, mouth millimetres from yours, and you just about lunged, kissing him desperately.

He matched that urgency, at some point unable to keep your wrists in place and as soon as he let you go, you had your arms wrapped around him longingly. A groan tore from his throat, thrusts more determined as he continued to rub your clit, and you could feel your back begin to arch, toes curling into the sheets.

He could obviously feel you squeezing around him too, ripping himself away from your mouth with a moan of your name. “Y/N. Fuck.”

That’s all it took for you to crumble, face contorting with pleasure as you stared up at him, pulsing around him uncontrollably.

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he cooed, removing his hand from between your legs as he pressed soft kisses to your mouth, your orgasm continuing to wash over you in waves. “Am I pretty when I cum?” He joked, but you were too far gone to snort, let alone reply.

He kept rolling into you, determined to keep your pleasure going for as long as possible, and you almost felt overwhelmed, back arching higher as you clung to him, a tear escaping out of one eye to run down the side of your face. He kissed it away, continuing to adore you, voice cracking, close himself now.

“You’re my pretty woman. So pretty.” He murmured against your lips and you kissed him hard, the last of orgasm rocking through your body. Holy shit, that was a powerful one. You felt lightheaded but couldn’t get enough.

“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling the effects as you squeezed and spasmed around him, and with one final thrust he stilled, beginning to spill inside of you.

You cupped his face quickly, hands trembling and pushed his head up, wanting to admire his face. His plump lips were parted and shiny, beads of sweat collecting along his hairline, gaze unfocused, eyelids heavy with the weight of his pleasure. He looked positively sinful.

You gave him a drunken smile, your own eyes barely open, and told him simply, “You’re pretty when you cum.”

You awoke just as Seokjin was rolling over, a muscular arm reaching for you, pulling your body into his warmth. It was still raining, even harder this morning, but you didn’t care, not when you were so cosy and in love. You were still both entirely naked, which Seokjin took full advantage of, hand cupping a breast – nothing sexual in it though, more like a comfort thing. You smiled, eyes still closed and cuddled in deeper.

“Where is he this morning?”

There was a brief silence as he tried to work out what you were asking, but soon enough he realised and laughed, sound cracked and raspy with sleep. “He’s tuckered out after last night.”

“Aw, diddums.”

A Sunday morning without a boner? Blasphemy. His morning woods were part of the package, so honestly it was quite surprising to not feel him hard between your butt cheeks.

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, making a sleepy sound, hugging you tighter to his body. “He just wants to stay in bed and cuddle this morning.”

“That sounds perfect to me.”

You honestly couldn’t think of anything better.

Once you eventually dragged yourselves out of the warmth of Seokjin’s giant bed, the rest of the morning and early afternoon went by in the blink of an eye. You had just about enough time for a quick lunch before Arin was due back at 2pm, and even though you were ready to meet Nana this time, you still couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a little nervous. It was only natural, you knew that, so you didn’t dwell on it too much, but as you heard the intercom start to ring in the entryway, signalling her arrival, your worry must have been written all over your face.

“Hey,” Seokjin said softly, calling you as you hovered by the doorway of the family room. When he saw he had your attention, he smiled warmly. “Everything’s fine.”

You gave him a reassuring smile of your own, watching him answer the call to Nana before he opened up the front door, waiting their arrival.

Arin came in full steam ahead, her little backpack on her shoulders, her carry-on hopping behind as she attempted to ram it over the step to get inside. Nana was only just getting out of the car, you could see her slightly from where you still stood in the doorway of the family room.

“Hello, Arin.” Seokjin greeted, amusement clear in his voice as he watched his daughter struggle. “Did you have a fun time?”

She was too busy huffing and puffing to reply and that’s when he finally took pity on her. He reached out his arm, “Let me take your case.”

“No!” She insisted. She was a determined little thing. “I can do–”

She never got to finish off her sentence because as she looked forward she caught sight of you smiling at her.

“Y/N!” She squealed, case (and dad) immediately forgotten as she ran towards you. You weren’t expecting the wave of emotion that hit you when she wrapped her arms around your middle, face in your stomach, but it was there, and it got you right in the gut. You hugged her back. “You’re here,” she beamed up happily.

“I am,” you grinned, swallowing back your wavering voice.

“I missed you. It’s been ages.”

You could always count on kids to be straightforward with their words. She was going to make you cry if she carried on like this. “I missed you too.”

“It’s only been a week, sweetie,” you heard Seokjin say.

Arin turned to him quickly. “It’s still a long time.” Then back at you. “I thought you’d never visit again.”

You felt your heart constrict, and unsure what to do you looked over at Seokjin, finding him equally as afflicted by his daughter’s confession. Teacher mode activated then. “No, no. I was just... busy with work, that’s all.”

You winced inwardly at your stupid excuse, not wanting to lie to her, but unable to really tell her the truth, especially at a time like this.

On cue, you heard Nana’s voice greeting you. “Hi, Y/N.”

You looked over to see her stood just behind Seokjin, a small smile on her face. She seemed a little nervous herself, which selfishly relaxed you.

“Nana,” you smiled back, “hi.”

Seokjin cleared his throat, taking a few steps towards his daughter and you. One look at him told you he was feeling the jitters too. This was brand new territory after all – for all of you.

“Arin, why don’t you take your backpack upstairs and I’ll tell you when mommy is going home so you can say goodbye?”

“Okay,” she agreed simply, pulling away from you to bound upstairs before she stopped abruptly. She turned back to Seokjin and ran forward with her arms forward. “Sorry, daddy. I forgot to hug you.”

He chuckled, bending down to kiss her head before he ruffled her hair. “That’s okay. Now, unpack your things. I’ll bring your case up later.”

She nodded, giving her mom a wave before her attention returned to you. “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Of course,” you nodded, ignoring the fresh tug at your heartstrings.

“She really likes you,” Nana observed just as you lost sight of Arin going up the staircase.

You shook your head, chuckling as you replied modestly, “I don’t know about that.”

“She does,” she insisted, smiling afterwards. “It’s nice to see. I’m glad she’s happy with everything.”

You nodded, unsure what to respond with, but Seokjin saved the day. “Do you want something to drink?”

Nana shook her hand. “I’m okay, thanks. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.”

Seokjin gestured her to enter the room, then moved back to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he brought you forward, wanting you to go next, putting the hand on the small of your back instead now. His touch calmed you.

“Sit,” he prompted Nana warmly, and she perched herself on the edge of the teal love seat.

“I like what you’ve done with the place by the way,” she said politely, looking around.

“You and me both know I just threw some new throw cushions down,” he laughed, attempting to ease the atmosphere.

Nana joined in just as you sat down on the far end of the sofa. Instead of taking the seat next to you, Seokjin perched himself on the armrest, loosely throwing his arm around the backrest, fingers grazing your shoulder.

Nana’s attention fell to you, her expression now serious. “Y/N, I want to apologise to you.” She began. “I was out of order last weekend. I was angry but that’s no excuse.”

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding your bearings. “I understand it was a shock to find out about me.”

“It was, but I still acted embarrassingly.” She looked down at the floor, ashamed of herself. “To think that’s your first impression of me.”

She had said some terrible things, yes. Not only to you, but Seokjin too, but, Seokjin had also said plenty of cruel things back. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, especially if she was showing genuine remorse, which you believed to be the case.

“We can start anew if you like?” You offered with a small smile.

She visibly relaxed. “I’d like that.” Then she hesitated before deciding to carry on. “I meant what I said, it seems like Arin really likes you. I trust my daughter’s intuition.”

“She really does,” Seokjin agreed with a hum, rubbing your shoulder.

“She’s been talking about you over the weekend – not that I’ve been prying of course,” Nana was quick to clarify. “You’re good with her.” She looked you straight in the eyes. “Thank you for accepting my child.”

You weren’t used to having this much praise and attention thrown your way, you didn’t really know what to say, but that was alright, you didn’t think Nana was looking for an outright response. You understood how important this was for her. She needed to trust the woman that spent time with her daughter, just like Seokjin had grown to trust you. It was slightly more difficult for her considering she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time in your company, so all she really had to go off was Arin’s opinion on you. It meant a lot to know she had given you a chance. Last week you had been afraid that might not be the case.

You smiled gratefully. “She’s really special.”

“Yes, Y/N says she’s a talented storyteller,” Seokjin mentioned soon after, helping the conversation along as if he could sense that you felt awkward with all the attention cast on you. He knew you too well.

“Oh really?” Nana looked delighted, eyes on you as she waited for more information.

You nodded, complimenting Arin coming easy to you. “The stories she wrote while I was her teacher were amazing.”

“I have the copies somewhere if you want to read them yourself,” Seokjin offered.

“I’d love that,” she beamed. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

“No problem. I’ll find them this week.”

Nana’s gaze happened to fall to Seokjin’s hand still comfortably on your shoulder then, and her smile faltered. In its place appeared guilt. “Listen, I... I hope I didn’t come in between you both because of last weekend.” She turned to you. “I know mine and Jin’s relationship seems toxic and it was until a few days but I,” she paused to glance at Seokjin, “I really want to change that.”

“You know I do too,” he agreed.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, or have things tense between us. We both love Arin.” She caught your eyes. “We all love Arin, so that’s the most important thing.”

You looked down at your lap but nodded in agreement. Arin’s happiness was what mattered the most.

“It is,” Seokjin replied.

Nana smiled, satisfied, and stood up. “Okay, I should get going.” You both followed her, starting to walk towards the doorway.

“Um, I managed to get that Wednesday afternoon free,” she told Seokjin, “is it okay if I collect Arin from school and take her for something to eat?”

“Of course. I know this great pizza place she loves if you want the name.”

“She already told me about it,” Nana chuckled. “I think she was dropping hints, but directions would be great. Thanks, Jin.”

“No problem.” He stopped by the staircase, voice raising quite a lot to reach Arin in her bedroom. “Arin, your mom’s leaving. Come say bye, sweetie.”

In no time at all she was galloping down the stairs. “Will I see you Wednesday?” She asked her mom eagerly.

“You betcha! How does pizza sound?”

“Yay, thank you, mom!” She squealed, going in for a hug as Nana bent down.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay, darling. I love you.”

“I love you more,” Arin murmured sweetly, kissing her mother’s cheek.

Nana kissed her back, chuckling. “Not possible, but okay.” Then she stood up, nodding to you and Seokjin with a small smile. “Bye both. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

“See you Wednesday,” Jin confirmed.

You spent the afternoon playing board games together, Seokjin finding a bunch of his old collection in the attic and you had fun teaching Arin how to play, although she didn’t quite grasp the full idea of monopoly yet, wanting to buy everything in sight regardless of if she had enough money or not… It was funny to say the least, even more so when Seokjin was unable to refuse her, loaning her money from the bank time and time again.

Where’s my special treatment, you’d teased quietly when Arin was distracted, secretly finding it adorable how much of a softie he was when it came to his daughter.

“You know I’d buy you anything you want,” he’d replied with a grin, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss.

At around 6pm, you and Seokjin began preparing dinner for the three of you. Only you left him in charge for a little while when you followed after Arin who had gone to feed her rabbits, wanting time alone to talk with her. You hadn’t been able to stop feeling guilty about effectively lying to her earlier and after confiding in Seokjin about it while Arin was unpacking her suitcase, he’d suggested you speak to her about it. He agreed that honesty was the best policy from here on in (within reason, of course) and that she obviously understood something had been wrong last week else she wouldn’t have reacted the way she had when she’d seen you earlier this afternoon.

She was only getting older and that meant as much transparency as possible when she was personally involved in something. She was at that age where these things would stick with her. Although hopefully nothing like last week would ever happen again.

You stood by the doorway watching as she cooed and conversed with the Olive and Ariel at first, not wanting to interrupt. She was such a great little pet owner, making sure they were fed and watered enough, helping to clean their hutch, watching over them when they played outside. She adored them.

After a few moments she noticed you. “Oh, Y/N,” she smiled, “is dinner ready?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.” Stepping closer you joined her, watching the rabbits bound about. Seokjin had found the largest hutch imaginable. “Did you miss them?”

“Yes, but daddy has been feeding them well.”

You stifled a laugh, remembering Seokjin’s panic yesterday morning, but then crossed your arms, clearing your throat. “Hey, listen,” you began cautiously, feeling a little nervous. Arin looked up at you curiously. “Remember when I said I didn’t come over because I was busy with work?”

She paused to think and then nodded.

“I was lying actually, Arin.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “How come?”

“Because… I didn’t want to worry you.”

She took some time to process what you were saying before she shrugged matter-of-factly. “I was still pretty worried last week anyway.”

You smiled sadly. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. Your dad and I…”

“Did you have an argument?” She was looking up at you curiously, finger playing with Olive and Ariel’s water bottle.

“Something like that,” you nodded. “It was more of a disagreement.”

“I thought so because daddy was sad all week.”

Her honesty stabbed at your heart.

“Were you sad too,” she asked.

“Very.”

“But you’re happy now?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, everything is all fine now. Me and your dad are happy.”

She looked happy herself at that piece of information, relaxing visibly, but then she asked a question that caught you off guard. “Do you know if daddy and my mom are happy too?”

“I think so.” You replied as vaguely as you could, not wanting to overstep the mark. But it didn’t feel right. You tried again. “I think things will be different from now on, Arin.”

“I hope so. I hate it when they argue.” She sounded sad, her gaze cast to the floor.

“I know. No one likes watching their parents fight.” you sympathised.

“What about you and my mom?” She asked suddenly, changing the subject a little. “Are you happy?”

“Yes, I think so.” You smiled at her. “I like your mom. She’s very pretty just like you.”

Arin beamed and then added, “You’re pretty too.”

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” she almost whispered, “I won’t use that word again.”

You were clueless for a moment, not understanding what she meant but then it hit you. She carried on.

“Not until we all decide. Mommy said I might call you that one day if you want me to.”

For the second time today you felt emotional, throat tight as you choked up suddenly. You composed yourself expertly though, taking a breath before you smiled and replied. “That’s right. There’s no rush for when we all decide.”

Arin nodded along happily and you took her hand.

“Should we go and check on daddy now? See if dinner’s ready?”

“I think so.” She agreed, her eyes rolling slightly. “Last week he set off the alarms because he burned my chicken nuggets.”

“Oh, gosh,” you said, soon spluttering out a laugh. Arin joined in. Seokjin had failed to tell you that (hilarious) piece of information. “Well then, let’s hurry.”

Seokjin was searching the pantry for something when you arrived back at the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, shooting a warm smile your way. “How’s my two favourite ladies?”

You looked down at Arin, wanting her to reply and she beamed at her father. “Happy.”

You nodded in agreement, catching Seokjin’s eyes as you shared a private moment, silently telling him everything was fine now. He shot you a playful wink then, closing the door. “That’s funny, because I’m happy too.”

You moved closer to him, collecting the messy ties of the apron he insisted on wearing whenever he was in the kitchen to retie them properly. “We were just checking in to see if the chef was burning dinner again…”

With a surprised huff, he turned to his daughter, eyes wide. “Kim Arin did you tell tales on me?”

Arin erupted into a fit of giggles, you and Seokjin joining in immediately. “Maybe…”

“It was an accident. Happens to the best of us,” he tried to defend.

“Sure, sure.”

Arin was greatly amused by your flippant response, but soon grew sympathetic towards her dad, stroking his elbow. “It’s okay, dad, I forgive you.”

“That’s very kind of you,” he laughed.

“Should I set the table?”

“And that’s very sweet of you,” he added, eyes shooting wide. “Thank you.”

You helped her get all the cutlery she needed and watched her leave for the dining room determinedly. But your attention soon got stolen away, pulled into Seokjin’s warmth as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You hooked yours around his middle.

“Okay?” He murmured, checking in as he placed a kiss on your forehead.

You looked up at him, a smile on your face and gave his waist a squeeze.

“Okay.” You confirmed.

Everything was more than okay, actually.

Everything was perfect.

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin smut #bts smut #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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spiderculechronicals · 6 months ago

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Ahaha ok here's the scene I wrote with that. Context: Wade and Peter 2 went out to purchase a good camera for their Peter 3 as Camboy business plan, with Peter 2 working behind the lense. Peter 1 went by Wade's apartment straight after work (his phone was accidentally on airplane mode) and Peter 3 was there waiting for him. They have some quality time, then Peter 3 orders Thai food for Wade and Peter 2 to pick up on their way back. (And as always, Peter 1 is a couple weeks away from 21, he's not a teenager in this)

___

Wade and Peter 2 finally made their way back to the apartment about 45 minutes after the other two Peters had fallen asleep, a combination of the restaurant taking a little longer than anticipated on the order (for which the host at the stand effusively apologized for and even gave them a gift card towards their next visit), and also end of the day traffic. They had too many bags to carry for Peter 2 to offer to web-sling them home, and the traffic made the option for Wade to call a cab equally impractical. They made good hustle nonetheless, taking on the challenge and treating the city like an obstacle course. They reached their destination in good spirits, having enjoyed the chance to show off a little and also get a glimpse of the other in action.

“Haha, Damn, if you’d actually been trying to shake me you would have left me in the dust there, hot stuff.” Wade grinned, putting his key in the door.

“Pff… of course I would. I’m fucking Spiderman.” Peter 2 winked.

“Haha! That’s extra funny because it’s true in multiple senses…” Wade giggled, opening the door and stepping aside so Peter 2 could go first.

Peter 2 put his part of the takeout load on the coffee table, seeing that the kitchen table was firstly too small and secondly taken up with Wade’s laptop and Peter 3’s web shooters in a state of disassembly. He put the other shopping bag containing his newly acquired camera down beside the couch, taking note of the recently used shower and the overall quiet. He held still and detected the minute sounds of breathing from the bedroom, and smiled fondly, catching Wade’s eye and putting a finger to his lips, tilting his head towards the bedroom door.

Wade covered his mouth, then mimed a question by making a circle with one hand and poking a finger from his other into it. Peter 2 gaped a little and rolled his eyes, shaking his head, then put his two hands palm-together up by his head and closed his eyes to mime Sleeping for his response. Wade put his hands up in an expressive shrug. Peter 2 sighed quietly and padded quietly over to the bedroom door, which was open a sliver, and pushed it slowly wider to peer inside. Wade followed behind him and peeked over his head (without needing to try at all, since Peter 2 was a full head shorter).

“They’re so cute!” Wade squeaked as quietly as he could. “Also I don’t think I was wrong, either,” He added, noting the rumpled-up half of the bed.

Peter 2 huffed a little and smirked, then padded over to the bedside and put a hand over the covers on Peter 3’s shoulder, giving a light squeeze. “Hey…”

“Snhff?” Peter 3 murmured, reflexively hugging Peter 1 closer to himself. “Ooh you’re back… mm. Sleepy baby, wake up, the food is here… also boyfriend…”

Peter 1 took a deep breath and made a curious little sound, blinking and rubbing his eye. “Aw yay… mm!” He reached out for Peter 2 with grabby hands. “Boyfren.”

Peter 3 pulled down the covers and stretched out, smiling as Peter 2 scooped Peter 1 up in his arms. “Super cuddle-bug right now… clean clothes behind you, grab whatever.” He then turned to Wade and reached out, “Uppies?”

Wade grinned and scooped him up, nuzzling his bare chest. “Rar… you two have fun?”

“Hehehe…”

“Peter, do you want a shirt?” Peter 2 asked, having helped Peter 1 put one on while not being allowed to put him down apparently (Peter 1 used his spidey-sticking legs around his waist).

“Gasp! Let his tiddies be free!” Wade protested.

“Wade…” Peter 3 snorted. “I’m not eating dinner half naked.”

“Okayyy.”

“You can pick my shirt if you want?”

“Okay!”

“… not a mesh top though, something comfy.” Peter 3 warned.

“Pfff… you’re no funnn…” Wade grumped jokingly. He ended up putting Peter 3 in one of his own t-shirts, which of course fit him like a nightgown, exposing a lot of collar bone. Peter 3 smiled fondly.

Peter 2 and Wade carried their clinging partners to the couch. “Putting you down so we can get plates for the food… there’s a lot here and it’s not really gonna work to just eat out of the containers…” Peter 2 explained.

“Mm… oh wow…” Peter 1 eyed the three bags stacked with boxes and tubs. “… I know I heard you order on the phone but, like…”

“I also got appetizers and some Thai Tea! It kinda sounded like they might’ve included dessert, too… I dunno what all they gave us, though. Smells great.”

Peter 2 cocked his head, “You placed an order and you don’t know what you ordered? Like, you read off menu items you didn’t recognize?”

“… oh no that would be super cringe! I just talked to the host and said how much I wanted, no allergies, not too worried about budget, just a variety of recommended dishes. Half should be spicy, half not so spicy.” He shrugged. Peter 2 opened his mouth again, then closed it. Peter 3 looked over at Wade, “Babes, did you add a cash tip? Because I already tipped 30%...”

“Yeah I saw that, haha, good call I didn’t have a lot of cash on me. But I slipped the host a twenty. He hooked us up with a $50 gift card because it was ten minutes longer than he’d quoted you over the phone.” Wade shrugged.

Peter 3 chuckled. “Okay, I kinda figured you might…”

Peter 1 noted the look on Peter 2’s face, “Um. So. Turns out, they’re Rich-rich. I guess technically Wade is, but…”

“Until we’re married!” Wade grinned, investigating the food. “Just kidding, I’m gonna add him to the accounts officially ASAP. I do not need to hold the purse strings… Gasp! Fresh rolls! They’re like little salad burritos, so pretty! You know it took absolutely forever to get him to actually spend my money like he means it… right, babe?”

“Well, yeah. It took until it wasn’t all blood money, and… once I’d been managing it for you for a while…” Peter 3 shrugged. “Since I knew how much there was and where it was going, it was easier than just don’t worry about it.” He smirked gently. “I trust you with my life, but not with your own checkbook.”

“I trust you with my checkbook but not so much with your own life. So. Fair…” Wade smiled back.

“Oh, burn!” Peter 1 gasped.

Wade and Peter 3 both chuckled. “Did we just write our wedding vows?” Peter 3 teased. Wade gasped, looking mildly scandalized. “Joking, joking…”

“What’s a checkbook?” Peter 1 asked, holding a straight face while munching on a fried appetizer, the other three turning to look at him. “No, nevermind, I take that joke back… I know what a checkbook is. I have a checkbook.” He hung his head. “Please keep fucking me I am not a child…”

Peter 2 snorted. “Close one…”

Wade giggled. “Nice… Also I’m pretty sure we were using the term in more a broader sense, I haven’t used a paper check in… like a decade…”

“Is anything labeled?” Peter 3 asked, starting to unpack more from the bags.

“Nope, it’s all surprises…” Peter 2 opened a box to reveal spinach and broccolini and fried tofu drenched in a rich peanut sauce.

Peter 3 selected a box and opened it up, “I kinda wished they would have at least marked which ones were spicy- ope, never mind I guess, it’s kinda obvious with the whole chilis right on top.”

“Aw Babe did you make the Canadian sound?” Wade grinned. “Love it when I rub off on you…”

“I know, it’s called frottage…”

Wade snorted.

“You’re Canadian?” Peter 2 asked, tilting his head.

“Uh, yeah, Bud! Ha… I keep forgetting you know next to nothing about me. Kinda’ exciting…”

Peter 2 smiled, “You don’t know me either.”

“Very true…! Hey, uh, crazy lil’ idea, just a thought… would you like to go patrolling with me tonight? I know my Babyboy needs to take time off until he can refill on web-juice, and I think Peanut looks like he’s happy to stay in and play cuddle-bug… so… like… your suit’s washed. How ‘bout it?”

Wade and Peter 3 are chatting with the other Peters over their massive and expensive takeout order (that Peter 3 ordered without flinching) about how actually they do have money as it turns out, Wade was kind of biding his time until he could hand the reins back over to Peter 3 because he doesn't have a good handle on actually *managing* money. And Peter 3 says to him, "I trust you with my life, but not with your own checkbook."

To which Wade responds, "I trust you with my checkbook but not so much with your own life. So. Fair..."

Which is almost a burn? But not really-really, since it's mainly Wade admitting he gets over protective since Peter 3 is mortal.

I kinda also want to end the interaction with Peter 1 trolling them by asking, "What's a checkbook?"

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softholand · 4 years ago

Text

pot valiant - t.h

pairing: bartender!tom x reader

summary: pot-valiant, definition; bold or courageous under the influence of alcoholic drink

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, dom!tom

words: 4.3k

a/n: i did it!!! bartender!tom was always present in my mind and after that picture (thanks paddy!!) i couldn’t help myself ;))) i hope you guys like this and please let me know what you think <3 enjoy!!

Two weeks, three days, 5 hours, and 22 seconds. That was the time your best friend Briana gave you to mourn your last failed relationship. Once that time had passed, she broke into your house, made you take a much necessary shower, forcing you to shave and wash your hair, while she took care of the mess that was your house. Plastic food containers and cans of beer and Coca-Cola littered both the kitchen and the living room floor, making the house smell like a garbage can.

“Glad to see you’re still alive!” Briana cheered after you got out of the shower, wearing your fluffy robe. “I am but barely. Wow, what did you do to my house?” You asked, being met with a completely different scenario from the one you left.

“I just put out the trash, y/n! Something you should have done before.” Briana scolded you, making you roll your eyes. “Should have waited and put me out too, since I feel like trash!” You groaned, flopping down on your sofa.

“Hey, no, no, no! Get up, y/n! We’re going out!” Your best friend announced, before trying to make you stand. “Noooo, please, Bri! I’ll do anything you want, but that!” You pleaded, but it was of no use. “I don’t wanna hear it, y/n! I didn’t come here to clean your house, I came to take you out of here and that’s what I’m gonna do.” Briana stated, taking your hands.

“Bri, I love you, but please let me stay just a little longer, I’m not ready for the outside world yet.” You groaned, trying your best to convince your best friend. “y/n, I love you too, that’s why I’m here! I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore! Yeah, what Tyler did to you was fucked up, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop living your life because of it.” Briana exclaimed.

“I know, Bri! I know! It’s just… hard for me to wrap my head around the fact he ditched me after all this time and that I’m single now.” You sighed, starting to feel emotional. At that, Briana pulled you closer and wrapped her arms around you, engulfing you in one of her best hugs. “I’m sorry, y/n! I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” Bri apologized, making you chuckle through your tears. “It’s okay, Bri! It’s not your fault, really. I’m just… a mess!” You laughed, drying your face with the robe sleeves.

“One drink. We get one drink and if you still don’t wanna stay after that, we leave. I promise!” Your friend offered, with hopeful eyes. “Fine! One drink!” You sighed, to which she squealed. “Yes! Thank you, y/n! You’re not gonna regret it! I’ve found this new club, it opened just a couple of weeks ago. You’re gonna love it!” She grinned. “Now, go put on your best outfit, we’re going out!” Briana squealed, making you laugh at her excitement.

About an hour later and after a whole lot of makeup and trying on clothes, Briana finally decided you were done with what she called: a Cinderella transformation. Of course, you laughed at her choice of words, and to irritate your friend, even more, you asked if you also should be back at midnight. She gave you the middle finger, before giving up and joining you in laughter.

After a quick cab ride, that could be done by feet, not with the heels you two were wearing though, you and Briana were at the new club she talked about. Once inside, you had to admit your best friend was right. The place looked like a mix of everything you enjoyed, the walls were coated in a beautiful shade of red, while the lounge area was filled with dark green sofas. Different from the other places you had been to, the bar on this one was positioned right in the middle, with bar stools in that same dark green velvet texture, rounding the space. The dim light that filled the space gave a mysterious/sensual vibe, something you were also a fan of.

Briana immediately dragged you to the bar, waiting patiently for one of the many bartenders. While she made her request, you took the time to scan the place, noting some artsy bits that complemented the space. “What can I get you?” A smooth masculine voice took you out of your daze, making you avert your attention to him. Right in front of you, a gorgeous boy with hazel eyes and chocolatey brown curls grinned at you, waiting for your answer. What was even the question?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” You apologized, making his smile grow even more. “I asked what can I get you tonight, darling?” He asked, making you smile with the nickname. “Oh, uh… a daiquiri, please!” You finally said, not being able to avert his gaze. “Good choice! I’ll be right back, girls!” He smirked, before going to the enormous wall of beverages behind him.

Once he was out of earshot, Briana lightly kicked your bare leg, getting your attention. “Isn’t he hot?” She mouthed, making you roll your eyes. “Really, Bri? Already?” Shaking your head, you went back to looking at your surroundings. “Oh, c’mon y/n! A woman has to eat!” Briana joked, making you both burst out laughing.

Seconds later, hot guy was back, this time with two cocktail shakers in his hands. Like every bartender in the world, he made his presentation while pouring the ingredients into the containers, making sure to really flex his arms while shaking it. Not that you noticed.

With two glasses in front of you, he poured the drinks in, doing the finishing touches before serving them to you. “Two pretty drinks for two pretty ladies, enjoy!” He smirked, before going back to his business. “Oh God, he only gets better!” Briana jokingly fanned herself, making you laugh. “He’s just doing his job, Bri! How many times do you think he used that one?” You asked your friend, who rolled her eyes at you. “You’re no fun!” She groaned, putting her tongue out.

Briana was only halfway through her Cosmopolitan when one of her favorite songs started to play. She made everything in her power to make you go with her but you denied her offer, stating you were fine watching her from the bar. With her drink in her hands, she made her way into the dance floor, purposely shaking her booty at you, which made you laugh and almost choke on your barely touched drink.

“Not into dancing?” The same voice from minutes ago asked, startling you. “Oh, no! Not today, at least!” You shrugged, offering him a smile. “So, what brought you and your friend here? I’m Tom, by the way!” He asked, cleaning the surface in front of him, making the watch he wore catch the fluorescent lights of the club. “y/n! And to be honest, she dragged me here.” You told him, giving into their usual small talks. “Wanna talk about it? I’m a pretty damn good listener!” He offered you with a smile.

You took a deep breath, asking yourself if it was really a good idea to share a part of your life with a stranger, and since you weren’t going to step foot on the dance floor, you thought this was the next most reasonable thing to do. Right? “Well, I was into a two-year relationship that ended a couple of weeks ago, and apparently staying inside your house, eating takeout food, and crying over stupid romantic movies is not a very healthy thing to do, so today she went to my house and here I am.” You smiled, taking a sip of your drink.

Once you looked at Tom, he gave you a pitiful look, to which you shrugged. “That’s not even the worst part though.” You said, the alcohol in your system already making the choices for you. “Instead of calling me or sending me a text asking to talk, you know, like a normal person, he invited me to his parents’ tenth-anniversary party and broke up with me in front of his whole family, claiming I wasn’t what he wanted in a relationship anymore.” With a raise of your glass, you finished your sad story, downing the rest of your daiquiri.

“Damn, what a dick!” Tom breathed after a couple of seconds, making you chuckle. “Oh, well! Cheers to single life, I guess…” You said, raising your now empty glass. “Need a refill?” He asked, pointing to the glass on your hands. “Please!” You huffed, before thanking him. “What will it be now?” Tom smirked, seeing your thinky face. “I don’t know, something strong.” He nodded, giving you two thumbs-ups, before going back to the wall to collect the ingredients.

Once the song ended, Briana came back to you and you two chatted until Tom came back with your drink, waiting for your approval. “It’s good! I like it! Thanks, Tom!” You smiled, locking eyes with him. “Do you want a refill too, darling?” He asked Briana, to which she said a beer would be fine. Once he was off, you felt your best friend's eyes burning a hole in your skull. “What?” You asked, impatiently. “We’re already on a name basis then?” Briana smirked, making you roll your eyes at her. “Yeah, I mean, he introduced himself, what did you want me to do?” You snapped and that was enough to her smirk double in size. “Okay, girl! You sure you don’t want to go home then?” She asked you for what felt like the fifth time. “Yes, Bri! I’m good! I promise!” You assured your best friend before she once again was off to the dance floor.

You quietly took sips of your new strawberry drink, watching from afar as your friend seemed to get her eyes on a specific guy for the night. She gave you a wink, making you roll your eyes at her antics. “She seems to be enjoying herself.” You heard Tom’s voice, turning the barstool to find him looking at you. “Yeah, she always does!” You agreed, taking another sip of your drink. “So, you’re from here?” He asked, sounding interested. “Yeah, I’m a local! You?” You said, raising your brows. “Same!” He smiled, going right to the next question.

The conversation kept going for most of the night, Tom attended some clients, while you took sips of your drinks, and once he was free, he was right back at you with another round of questions. Seeing as Briana wasn’t by your side anymore, you welcomed his company, glad at least this way you wouldn’t be left alone. “Museologist? I’ve never heard that before!” He grinned, making you chuckle. “Yeah, it’s not very common. Basically what I do is investigate and preserve material cultural stuff, like paintings, sculptures or constructions and immaterial, such as traditions and folklore.” You answered and Tom couldn’t help but find adorable the way your eyes lit up while you talked.

Briana came back after a couple more songs, sitting by your side and asking Tom another beer. “So, found your prey?” You joked, making her laugh. “Actually, I did! See that blonde? With the samurai bun?” She pointed and you nodded once your eyes landed on him. “Nice, Bri!” You complemented, giving her a playful high five. “Right? And he’s so sweet and smart and funny! He even asked me if I wanted to go to his house.” She blurted, seemingly disappointed. “And?” You asked, not getting why she reacted that way. “Oh, no! I’m not leaving you. I dragged you here so I’m taking you home.” Briana exclaimed, to which you rolled your eyes. “Bri, I’m totally able to call a cab and go home by myself. I’m fine, I promise! You can go with Mr. Samurai bun if you want.” You assured her, seeing her eyes widen. “No, y/n/n! I promised you!” She protested, making you groan. “I’m fine, Bri! Go with him!” Once again, you insisted. “Are you sure?” She asked and you had to laugh at her. “I’m not a child, Bri! Now go, he’s not going to wait all night!” You teased, getting a hug and a kiss on the cheek from your friend before she was off.

“Lost your friend?” Tom asked once he was back from his bartender duties. “Yeah, it's just me now and I think I’ll actually call it a night and go home.” You told him, making him frown. “Hey, not to sound creepy or anything but are you going by yourself? Because that’s not very safe and my shift ends in like ten minutes. If you want, I can accompany you.” With hopeful eyes, the boy in front of you smiled, making your heart flutter just a tiny bit. You thought about leaving a stranger accompanied you home, you really did, but something in your gut told you it was fine, Tom was a good guy and would never do anything to harm you. So, you went with it. “Yeah, that would be great, actually.” You smiled and ten minutes later, you were both leaving the club, at 3:30 in the morning.

Tom offered to call a cab but seeing as your house was only a few minutes away, you asked if it was okay for him that you guys walked. He agreed and with the moon illuminating your steps, the pair of you made your way into the almost silent streets. You guys kept talking and occasionally your hands would brush on one another, which caused little butterflies to erupt in your stomach. Once in front of your apartment building, you stopped, having no idea what to do next, since you were in a relationship for the last two years.

“It was nice meeting and talking to you, Tom!” You said, opting for the easiest way out. “Yeah, the feeling is mutual, y/n!” He answered, stuffing both of his hands in his pockets. “Thank you for… listening.” You mumbled, making him chuckle. “Of course! Whenever you need!” He smiled, not moving a muscle. “I’ll see you around, then. Bye!” With a little wave of your hand, you made your way to the door, while Tom watched you from his place. “Sure! Bye, y/n!” He exclaimed, making you smile, finally entering the building.

That’s how you found yourself going back to that same club every Friday, getting a couple of drinks while talking to Tom, then being escorted home by him. You had been doing this for almost a month now and Briana was starting to get suspicious. It was Friday again and she had just called you while you finished getting ready. “So, any plans for tonight?” She asked, already predicting your answer. “Not really, just gonna get some drinks and head home.” You said while clasping your black sandals. “Tom’s gonna bring you home again?” You sighed, already knowing where this conversation was heading. “I don’t know, Bri! If he wants to.” You looked in the mirror for the last time, before taking your bag and heading out. Once Briana finally hung up, you threw your phone into your purse, getting into the cab.

The routine was the same, you got in, spotted Tom, sat in one of the many barstools, and waited for him to approach you. “What can I get this beautiful lady today?” He joked, a smile wide on his face. Today he was wearing a simple black shirt, tight around his muscles, the watch still sat proudly on his wrist, and his curls were a little bit messier than most days. “You know you don’t have to waste your pickup lines with me, Tom.” You smiled, watching his reaction. “Okay then, what can I get this grumpy old lady today?” He smirked, making you chuckle. “A Sex On The Beach, please?!” You grinned and after a quick wink, he was off.

The rest of the night passed like magic, you didn’t even see the time pass and once you took a look at your phone, you saw that it was almost time for Tom’s shift to end, which meant it was time to head home. The chilly London air hit as soon as you stepped out of the club, making you shiver, seeing as you were only in a dress. Like the gentleman he was, Tom took off his jacket and placed it on your shoulders, and although you protested, saying he was going to catch a cold, he assured you he was fine with his shirt.

You didn’t know what you were thinking when the words “Do you wanna come inside?” came out of your mouth but now was definitely too late to take them back. “Oh, yeah! Sure!” Tom agreed, making you smile. The short lift ride was awkward and once you walked into your apartment, the feeling only grew. Tom stayed pretty close to the door, with both of his hands in his pockets, while you put your purse away and turned on the lights. “Welcome and sorry for the mess.” You said, going back to the living room. Tom just smiled, before saying, “You call this messy? You should see my house!” You both laughed and the tension was back in the air. “Do you want anything? Water, wine, beer?” You offered, taking off your shoes and his jacket, putting the both away. “Water would be good.” He said and you quickly made your way to the kitchen, shaking your head to try and get rid of some very intrusive thoughts.

“Thanks!” He smiled, taking the glass from your hands, while your eyes kept focused on his arm and the prominent veins and the way his shirt was almost being ripped by his bicep. “y/n? You here?” Tom’s voice brought you back, making your face grow hot with the knowledge you got caught. “Yes, sorry!” You apologized, watching as his smirk grew in size. He placed the cup on the small table by your door, before taking a couple of steps closer. Slowly, as if testing the waters, he put his hands on your hips, leaning the smallest bit in, not taking that stupid smirk off of his face.

His smell was intoxicating, the mixture of alcohol and mint was definitely making your mind clouded. “Tom…” You whispered once he was only centimeters away from you. “What is it, y/n?” He asked, looking between your eyes and your lips. “Kiss me!” You almost pleaded, his smirk the last thing you saw before his lips were crashing into yours. The feeling was new, you hadn’t kissed anyone since your ex-boyfriend and you couldn’t help but compare them. Tom’s was so much better though, his lips could be thin but they held so much power on them, his mouth worked like magic against yours, and before you knew he was pulling away, completely breathless. The pause didn’t last long though, he looked so good with his lips plumped, the tiniest of the smirks still proudly on them, you just couldn’t help yourself and launched yourself at him.

You backed him against the wall, moaning when you felt his tongue entering your mouth. Tom placed both of his hands on your ass, squeezing it before asking, “Bedroom?” Without breaking the kiss, you pointed in the direction of your room and before you knew it, he was carrying you in his arms. You squealed, wrapping your legs around his torso, before going back to his lips. He placed you on the bed, making a trail of kisses from your neck, all the way to your stomach. Once he positioned himself between your tights, he looked at you with his bright brown eyes, asking if he could take your dress off. You nodded and after a little bit of a struggle, he took the thin material out of your body, leaving you in just a pair of white underwear. “You’re so beautiful!” He whispered, going back to your lips and attacking them with kisses. “Tom, please…” You moaned, growing even more eager to feel him. “What do you want, darling?” He smirked, loving seeing you like that. “You, I want you!” With a shake on your voice, you pleaded and he finally took the clue and went to work.

After another confirmation from you, he discarded your panties, tracing his fingers through your now soaked folds. “You look amazing, y/n!” Tom breathed before going straight to your core. You let out a moan as soon as his lips touched you, making your whole body shake with pleasure. “And tastes amazing too!” He purred, focusing on his task. Your moans only grew louder when he pushed two of his slender fingers on your heat. “Fuck, Tom! Feels so good!” You blurted, not being able to control yourself. “That’s it, baby! I can feel your walls clenching around my fingers. Tell me how much do you wanna cum.” Tom whispered, making you clench even more, only by his words. “Wanna cum, Tom! Please…” You were never this talkative in bed and not once has a guy been this dominant with you but you couldn’t say you weren’t enjoying it. “Cum for me, baby! Wanna hear you scream my name!” He mumbled and finally lost control. Your whole body shook with pleasure and you had to contain yourself from closing your thighs around Tom’s head.

Once you came back from your high, you opened your eyes to find Tom already looking at you, with some of your wetness still glistening on his chin. “You alright?” He asked, concern coating his words. “Yeah!” You smiled, before going back to his lips. With a quick move, you straddled him, helping him take off his shirt, letting his chest perfectly exposed for you. You lowered yourself, leaving a trail of kisses on his jaw, neck, collarbones, chest, each one of his abs, and finally, his perfectly sculpted v line. “Are you sure? You don’t have to, I’ll be perfectly fine by just giving...” You interrupted his mumbling by attaching your lips to his, hoping it would be his answer.

With the rest of his clothes discarded, you couldn’t help but admire his body. He was perfect. Sculpted by the gods, even. After wetting your hands, you took his cock, pumping a few times before attaching your lips to it. You twirled your tongue, tasting his precum, feeling him grow harder and harder on your hands. “Holy shit, you feel so good, y/n!” His words of encouragement were enough for you to start moving your head up and down, taking his member into your mouth inch by inch, until he was bucking his hips. “Fuck! You’re bloody amazing, darling!” He praised, while making direct eye contact with you, “But if you want more, you better stop before I coat your throat with my cum.” You had to admit, his dirty talk was doing something to you.

Releasing his cock with a loud pop, you climbed on top of him, kissing his lips. “Do you have a condom?” He asked between kisses. “Bedside table, first draw.” You answered and after a loud smack on your ass, you got off of him, both of you wearing playful smiles on your faces. Tom opened the foil package and rolled the material into his member, positioning himself at your entrance. “You sure you wanna do this?” He asked, making sure you wanted this as much as he did. “Yes, Tom! I want you to fuck me!” You said, kissing his lips.

With both of his hands on your hips and a huge smirk on his face, he pushed himself into you, making you moan. It took you a few seconds to get used to him and once you nodded, Tom started to move, bringing another level of pleasure to your body. “Fuck! You’re so tight around me, y/n!” He whispered, biting your earlobe. “Tom, fuck me harder!” You pleaded, wanting nothing more than to be railed by him. That seemed to take Tom by surprise but he was quick to obey your wish, thrusting harder and harder into your soaking wet core. “You look so beautiful like that, all sweaty, begging me for more!” He kept praising you, feeling how much you liked when he did.

With both of his arms by your head, he caged you, tattooing your face with kisses. “Feel so good, Tom! Please, make me cum!” You mumbled, by now barely able to form sentences. Tom was quick to obey and once his fingers found your clit, rubbing small circles in it, you were gone. Toes curling, you arched your back, getting a handful of the mattress in one hand while the other scratched Tom’s back. “Fuck, y/n!” With a final thrust of his hips, Tom reached his high, moaning your name like it was the most beautiful prayer.

He collapsed on top of you, leaving a long kiss on your lips, before getting up and tossing the condom on the trash. You went to the bathroom to clean yourself up, seeing as you were too tired to take a shower, and asked him if he wanted that too. He agreed and once you were decent enough, you put on clean panties and his discarded shirt, asking him to join you on the bed. Of course, he accepted, he wasn’t planning to go anywhere either so, after putting his boxers back on, he climbed on the bed with you.

You quickly doze off but right before you did, you admitted to yourself that, like most of the time, Briana was right, and going to that new club wasn’t a bad idea after all.

tagging: @stuckonspidey @bi-writes @duskholland @screamholland @missnxthingg @tomhollandthing @wazzupmrstark @peeterparkr @veryholland @spideyspeaches-deactivated20221 @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @rebekkah4766 @hopelessromm @pensivepeter @geminiparkers @mrs-hollandstan @hollandcreep @uglypastels

#my writing #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland blurb #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #bartender!tom #bartender!tom x reader #tom holland writing

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

Text

recovered in time

(pt. i)

“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.”

“What does that mean?” Kara asks.

“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that.

“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare.

“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”

“Great! So, we can—”

“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.”

Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.”

“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.”

Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything.

“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?”

Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.”

But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her.

“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting.

“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier.

“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.”

“Ah.”

Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...”

“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly.

Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again.

“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.”

“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand.

“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?”

Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.”

A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her.

Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair.

Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position.

“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.”

Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.”

“But you trust me...”

“Yeah.”

Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude.

Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes.

For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such.

Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor.

But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.

Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears.

She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction.

“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.”

“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!”

But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest.

Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain.

She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this.

And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do.

She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up.

She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular.

She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode.

“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”

“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”

“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up.

“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.”

“I don’t think I need a stretcher.”

“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.”

Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...”

“Yeah, you’re bleeding.”

Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.”

“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then check for yourself.”

Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.

“... You know I can’t do that.”

Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.”

There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real?

Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.

“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.”

But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?”

And, yes; yes, she does.

With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable.

Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her.

“Hey,” Kara says.

“Hey yourself,” Lena returns.

Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs.

#lolwat?#my words.#WHERE DI THE READ MORE GO #I HATE THIS WEBSITE

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jjuzoir · 4 years ago

Text

Boyfriend! Itadori Yuji

request: no...! Hahaha :’)

word count: 1231

a/n: Look... i know i have requests okay hhh It’s just... i’ve been suffering from Yuji Brainrot recently 😿 anyway! drinking game ! how many times do i call or compare yuji to a puppy! i’m pushing an agenda onto you all

- Let’s get this out of the way, once Itadori falls - he falls hard. He’s not the type to get involved with anyone seriously, mostly because he just doesn’t really think he has the time (even though he totally has), the reality is; he isn’t really interested in a relationship. He’s happy with his life and getting the occasional crush on someone or a new celebrity crush after watching a movie.

- So when he finds himself crushing on you for a long period of time, you’ve basically got yourself your own puppy.

- It takes him some time to realize he’s interested romantically in you and he’s actually thinking about getting into a relationship, but once he does he doesn’t really see the point in taking much longer.

- He’ll be kind of awkward asking you out, but it’s cute! He’s energetic about it and he stutters a bit at first but when he finally gets it out he’s kind of excited - until he realizes there’s a chance you might say no. So please say yes and fast because he’s thinking about how Kugisaki and Fushiguro are gonna snicker at him and pity him for getting rejected after being totally sure of himself a few hours ago.

- And when you do say yes? He’s beaming, he’s shining – the sun was found jobless.

- He’s a sucker for you wearing his clothes. He finds it so cute to see you wearing something that’s his, he says it ends up smelling like you and it makes him all soft and warm when you give back a shirt or hoodie you’d been using and it smells like you.

- Nobara calls him disgusting because he genuinely doesn’t want to wash his clothes because they smell like you.

- His favorite dates are the ones where you stay at home and play video games or watch movies. He loves just being there with you and cuddling you close, it’s such a contrast from always being on a mission with his friends and Gojo. He can pretend everything is normal again when he’s with you.

- He also loves arcade dates! If Yuji can show off he will. His favorite is dancing with you in Dance Dance Revolution, he’ll hug you from behind and sway around and giggle while you’re both screaming because neither of you can get the steps right because you’re laughing too much.

- Itadori is such a big cuddle bug, he loves waking up early on Saturday and having you hugging him in your sleep. He’s like a magnet because wherever you are he’ll be there trying to throw himself on top of you to cuddle. He’s always got an arm around you or trying to wiggle himself into your arms, it’s really cute – he likes being in your arms, it’s just so fun to be hugged by you

- Whenever you sleep over, he likes having you rest your head on his chest or resting his head on yours. If he’s feeling overwhelmed, Itadori might just ask you to hold him – which means he wants to hug your waist and listen to your heartbeat while you play with his hair until you both fall asleep.

- He loves picking you up in his arms, no matter how tall you are or how much you weigh he’s absolutely carrying you in his arms while giving you surprise kisses on the forehead or cheek.

- He has you saved as something like “The Love Of My Life 💕✨” and wants you to have him saved as “The Light Of My Life 👑💕”, if you ask him to change it he’ll sulk a bit and whine about how it’s cute and romantic and it shows he cares a lot – you ask if he isn’t embarrassed and he nods; “But it shows I care :(“

- Let him keep it like that you monster.

-Has a candid of you doing something super boring like… algebra 2 as his lock-screen, it’s probably not even a good picture. Like, it’s probably kind of shaky since he had to take it fast before you question him, the sun blocks the background and you look like you haven’t seen the light of day in years. But you’re smiling, and he remembers very well why; it was the day he told you he loved you for the first time. And he doesn’t care if it’s a bad photo or if it’s cheesy, he likes it a lot and he looks at it whenever he’s feeling down.

- Anyway! Puppy boyfriend! Literally! Yuji is the type of boyfriend that can’t stand being away from you for too long, so whenever he sees you again he’s jumping into your arms and squeezing the life out of you.

- “[Name],” he whined as he nuzzled into your cheek, Nobara was cracking up as she filmed while Megumi tried not to look too disgusted, “I missed you!”

- “‘Ji, I went out for takeout?”

- “Took too long.”

- “I was gone for less than twenty minutes?”

- “Too long.” He looked up at you from his position in your chest and it took everything in you not to coo and pet him.

- “I’ll… I’ll try to be faster.” You mumble embarrassed.

- Yuki is also a good cook, since he was with his grandfather and that man looks like he can’t even boil an egg — it’s safe to assume Yuji taught himself how to cook.

- The granny’s probably felt bad and gave him a bunch of recipes and spices and tips for his food. What I’m saying is Itadori makes perfect comfort food. He’s also good at cleaning when he wants to be, he took care of his grandpa’s place and got a bunch of advice from the neighbors.

- He’s a teenage boy though so he’s lazy like most of the time and just takes out the trash and makes sure the place isn’t reeking, but if he really wanted to he could – all you have to say is; “Yuji, my place is getting kinda messy, don’t you think?” super casually and he’s on his way to put music and dance while dusting gl ur shelves.

- Itadori is a good dancer too! Look at him, he’s peak dancer material. On lazy days, he loves grabbing your waist suddenly and moving around, little twirls here and there while he tells you about what he’s been up to. There’s no music, only the sound of your feet tapping the ground in a lazy rhythm neither of you cares for. You can spend up to hours there just moving carelessly.

- Smells like warm laundry, I’m talking; you just took your clothes from the dryer and you're folding them and you press a shirt to your chest and catch a whiff of the softener.

- Let’s you style his hair with butterfly clips and hair ties, will go on missions with them on. Sukuna hates it because no one takes him seriously with two little ponytails sticking from his head like antennas but after a while he just grew so tired of ripping them from his head after every takeover he just began dealing with it.

- Will eat anything you make him, you could make the most abhorrent piece of cooking ever seen, I’m talking you could’ve made Gordon Ramsay cry from sheer desperation, and Yuji will eat with a little smile on his face because: “Look my s/o cooked it for me, aren’t they so talented? :D”

- Puppy boyfriend Yuji, everyone.

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leejungchans · 4 years ago

Text

— delicacy.

juliet’s masterlist

note: words in bold are spoken in english

set in late april, 2021

summary: in which juliet makes lets dino try an australian delicacy for the first time.

a/n: idk where this idea came from but i’m not regretting it one bit bc i think this came out pretty cute 👉👈 also this gif 💔 god i’m not your strongest soldier

“Wait, how many of them are home?”

Juliet’s hand, outstretched and holding the key to their dorms, pauses as she turns to look at Chan, noting how he has gotten even more nervous since they got into the elevator.

“Not all, some of them are still at the company,” she reassures. With her free hand, she reaches for one of his, though it’s not easy with the bags of takeout he’s holding. “Besides, you’re our senior! If anyone should be nervous, it’s them,” she jokes.

“Wrong,” Chan says sulkily as she turns away briefly to unlock the front door. “When we’re at work, then maybe. But now I’m your boyfriend, not their senior, so it’s different.”

“You’re right,” Juliet agrees, as they step in and remove their shoes. She looks around the common space to find it empty. “But they like you a lot already, so there’s no need to worry. See? No one’s here—”

As if on cue, they hear one of the bedroom doors open, and Yunho walks into the living room seconds later. “Oh, hi!” he says cheerfully when he sees Juliet and Chan by the front door. “Just make yourself at home!”

“Where are you going?” Juliet asks, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter while she watches him put on his sneakers. Next to her, Chan takes off his mask before washing his hands at the sink.

“They sent me to go get food.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Yeosangie, Wooyoungie and Jongho.”

“Why not just choose the delivery option?”

Yunho smiles bashfully. “Because we’re idiots and forgot.”

This earns a small snort from Juliet. “Okay, fair enough. Be safe!” she calls out as Yunho heads out with a wave. She turns back to Chan with a grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Yeah... just seven more to go. Then again, you had to meet all twelve of them at once,” he says with a small smile, referring to his own members. “So it can’t be worse than that.”

“That’s the spirit!” she cheers, beaming at him before she grabs the bags and moves them to the dining table.

Juliet is in the middle of laying out all the takeout boxes when she hears him ask, “Uh... what’s this?”

She turns around to see Chan fiddling with the iconic yellow jar as he attempts to read the English labels. “Vegemite. Have you had it before?”

“It’s the Australian spread, right?” Juliet nods. “I think I’ve seen it before when we were on tour in Australia years ago, but I didn’t try it.”

“Do you want to?”

What was Chan supposed to do? Say no to those eyes? When they’re now ten times more sparkly?

He watches adoringly as she eagerly grabs two slices of bread from the counter and practically skips over to the toaster, popping the bread in before leaning over the machine in favour of glaring at it intensely.

“Is that gonna make them toast quicker?”

“Oh, shush,” she says, rolling her eyes at his teasing. “Come over and help me.”

“Help you... watch the toaster?” He’s already behind her despite the skepticism in his tone, arms wrapping securely around her waist and chin coming down to rest on her shoulder.

The two stand in comfortable silence for several moments as they continue to gaze at the machine. Nothing happens other than the smell of toasted bread beginning to waft through the air.

“Still think staring at it makes it work faster?”

Juliet makes a tiny humph sound. “This toaster is an exception.”

“Mhm, sure,” Chan mumbles against the fabric of her sweater, “whatever you say.”

She cranes her neck to throw him a halfhearted glare. “You can go get the butter from the fridge if you’re so impatient.”

“No, I like it here.”

“Then don’t—shit!” Juliet yelps, flinching in his hold when the toast suddenly pops up with a loud clunk. Her cheeks flush pink when Chan starts laughing, and she wriggles out of his arms to grab a butter knife. “Stop laughing at me!” she whines, throwing open the refrigerator doors in search of the butter.

“Sorry, you’re just adorable,” he says, putting the toast on a plate before following her to the dining table.

Juliet shakes her head in mock exasperation at him, spreading a thin layer of butter onto both slices before doing the same with the vegemite when at that exact moment, Yeosang and Wooyoung walk by them.

The former wrinkles his nose when he notices what she’s doing. “Your boyfriend comes over for the first time and you’re giving him... vegemite?” he teases.

“What is that supposed to mean, Kang Yeosang? Also, we’re obviously not having vegemite toast for dinner,” Juliet defends, gesturing to the food on the table. “We bought takeout. I’m just letting him try it.”

Wooyoung snorts. “Blink twice if you need help.”

Chan glances at Juliet, now slightly concerned. “Is it really that bad?”

Yeosang grabs a bottle of juice from the fridge and pours some into a cup. “It’s the only food in the house that no one other than her touches, and we literally eat everything else. Do what you will with that information.”

She gasps, scandalised. “Excuse me, Seonghwa-oppa said he likes it!”

“Trust me,” Wooyoung interjects playfully, “he wouldn’t be saying the same if any other one of us offered it to him. He only said it because it’s you.”

“Whatever, I’m not standing for this vegemite slander,” Juliet huffs, shooing the two boys away. “Enjoy having no taste.”

Wooyoung flicks her forehead lightly before pulling Yeosang along with him, nearly causing the older boy to spill his drink. “Have fun, lovebirds!” he yells over his shoulder. “But not too much fun!”

Juliet turns back to Chan with an unimpressed expression. “You see what I have to put up with?”

He grins in response. “Maknae struggles.”

“Maknae struggles,” she agrees, holding a piece of the toast to his lips. “Well, bon appétit.”

Somewhat warily, Chan takes a bite and proceeds to chew slowly, trying to make sense of the unfamiliar taste. Juliet peers at his expression in an attempt to gauge what he’s thinking.

He swallows. “It’s good.”

“Liar,” Juliet says affectionately. “You don’t like it, do you?”

He grins sheepishly. “Okay, you got me. Not that it’s disgusting, it’s just... not bad... but not good.”

“You’re so cute,” she says, pinching his cheek gently. “You don’t have to finish it, by the way, I’ll eat it later after we finish our food.” Then she remembers something. “Wait, I have something for you in my room.”

“You can just grab it after dinner.”

But she’s already out of her seat and halfway down the hall. “No, I’ll forget later! I’ll be back in a few seconds!”

A few seconds turns into minutes as she rummages through her overflowing closet whilst grumbling to herself, the fact that she left Chan defenceless in the living room completely slipping her mind. She’s not a disorganised person, especially when it comes to her clothes and closet organisation, so she blames their hectic schedule for its current state.

Eventually, she finds his lavender hoodie squished between two of her own, and heads back to the dining room when she sees—

“Choi Jongho, what are you doing?”

He turns away from Chan to smile at her innocently, wholly unaffected by her narrowed eyes. “Nothing.”

“That didn’t look like nothing.”

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Jongho says, looking down at the imaginary watch on his wrist. “I gotta go feed my pet fish. See you!” And with that, he disappears back into his room as quickly as he had appeared.

They don’t have a pet fish.

Sighing, Juliet sits back down next to Chan. “Sorry about that, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he reassures with a soft smile. “He was very sweet, though he did give me a friendly reminder to never hurt you. But I don’t mind, it just shows that he cares about you a lot.”

She returns the smile. “Yeah... he does. They all do. By the way, here’s the hoodie I borrowed from you last time,” she says, holding out the folded garment. “It’s washed and everything.”

Chan grins, setting it down on a spare chair. “Honestly, I didn’t expect to see it again when I gave it to you.”

“Excuse you, I’m not a thief! But... does this mean I can have it?”

a/n: okay so a few years ago i went on a study tour to australia and the host family my friend and i were staying with let us try some and we both thought it was pretty good ahjshwjs 🤩

i hope you guys like the fluff in this update bc this is the calm before the storm hehehe 👉👈 anyways gn besties lemme know what you think of this 🥺💗 thank you for reading and i hope you’re doing well!!

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clairdelunelove · 4 years ago

Text

AOT Valentine’s Day Headcanons

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirschstein x reader, armin arlert x reader, levi ackerman x reader, erwin smith x reader, porco galliard x reader, genderneutral!reader

genre: insane amounts of fluff, comfort

warnings: slight cursing, insane amounts of fluff

synopsis: small scenarios of what some aot boys would do for you during valentine’s day.

a.n: enjoy the lovely day with some of these cuties! remember to take care of yourselves and know you’re all loved <3

eren jaeger

this man would definitely try to cook a nice dinner for you

especially if you’re having a hard week

expect him to be researching the best recipe a couple days beforehand

“what are you doing, eren?”

he’ll glance up and nonchalantly mutter, “nothing, babe” while scrolling through fancy recipes

on valentine’s day it’s his time to shine

waits for you to leave the house and go to work before leaving to pick up the necessary ingredients

gets in a verbal argument with a store clerk if he doesn’t find the exact name of what he’s searching for

“are you deaf? I said I needed a bag of shrimp”

“and we have that, sir. you said you needed a bag of prawns right?”

“it’s shrimp! how many goddamn times do I need to repeat myself?”

gets home with bags full of groceries and gets to work

slowly chops all the vegetables and curses when he nicks his finger with the edge of the knife

puts too much oil in the frying pan and tosses everything in there

scrolls through his phone while waiting

spends fifteen minutes ogling at his screensaver

of course it’s a pic of you

ends up burning everything he made

orders takeout, plates it real nice, and attempts to brush off that it was his cooking once you’re home

“this is so good, babe!” you exclaim while lifting the fork to your mouth, “tastes like the order we usually get at that one French restaurant.”

“glad you like it, baby”

cue his nervous sweating

jean kirschstein

simp energy!

makes previous reservations to take a painting class with you

tells you to dress warm before the two of you head out

so! happy!

has the goofiest smile on the actual date

tucks your hand in his pocket while walking to the art studio

spends the whole time checking over at your easel

audibly approves of everything you do, even if you’re drawing a line

“wow, it looks great sweetheart”

scrunches up his brows while concentrating

listens to the art instructor say to paint something that they love

takes it quite literally

paints you

tries to get each pretty feature about you

swipes his hand over his cheek and gets paint on it

literally sweats out of pure focus and won’t want to leave until he’s done

“jean, babe, we gotta go”

“five more minutes please. almost done”

five min turns into five hours

jean’s painting of you is surprisingly amazing and he’s even lowkey impressed

has a random stranger take a pic of you and him together while holding up the paintings

treats you to an expensive restaurant afterwards and pays

full stomachs = happy couple

pulls you close while walking through the downtown streets

whispers cheeky pickup lines into your ear and presses a kiss against your head

best. day. ever.

connie springer

did you say it was valentine’s day?

shit

definitely forgets about the whole holiday but is quick enough to put something together for you

you both aren’t super invested in sappy holidays but connie tries each time

the morning of, he’ll run to the nearest shops and try to pick out a bouquet of flowers for you

everything’s sold out

will curse his luck and literally sprint out of there

kicks himself for not planning in advance as he’s walking up the driveway of your house

notices the neighbor’s beautiful flowers

idea!

he will dash through each neighbor’s yard and pick their flowers so a mismatched bouquet rests in his hand

“happy valentine’s day, my favorite goofball!”

“thanks, babe,” your wide eyes stare at the uncoordinated bouquet in your hands, “I love it”

cue the mud that falls to the floorboards

you scold connie about the dirt that’s still stuck on the roots since it dirties the floors

he’ll take you out to watch a comedy show too!

whole evening of laughter while his arm is wrapped around your shoulder

you were both glowing in happiness (along with having a sore stomach) afterwards

wraps his sweater around you since the evening was getting chilly

drives you home and gives you the sweetest kiss

he’ll pull away with a, “wow” while being completely dazed out

let’s you take his jacket home and texts you corny jokes the whole night

Maro Bott

desperately! wants you to be his valentine

almost cries tears of joy when you accept his confession which only makes you confused

“Marco, sweetie, we’ve been dating for two years”

“doesn’t matter, love”

shows up extra early with a bouquet of roses

“happy valentine’s day!”

expect him to walk inside the house and look through all your cabinets for a vase

helps you pick out an outfit because he has the “perfect date” planned

causes you to be wrapped in bundles of clothing

won’t tell you where he’s taking you once the two of you are in the car

“an,” you tilt your head and albeit a bit puzzled, “ice rink?”

“time for some ice skating!”

laces up your skates before he even does his own so he makes sure it’s secure

will ask multiple times if your feet are comfortable

once he has his skates on, it’s game over

can’t walk without holding onto your hand for a couple moments

“this is harder than I thought,” he confesses with a nervous grin

gets on the ice and falls

hard

the thump causes everyone to look at the two of you and he only responds with, “oh look (Y/n)! I’ve fallen for you! Get it?”

undoubtedly makes you giggle and onlookers awe

gets the hang of ice skating and teaches you how if you’re scared of falling

makes excuses to pull you close and sweetly kiss your cheek

“it’s part of the learning process”

the day was as sweet as Marco is

Armin Arlert

bookstore date!

will definitely plan in advance because he wants everything to be perfect

expect a good morning text that’s a whole paragraph long <3

still asks you, “can I be your valentine?” even if you are both dating

plan on wearing matching outfits for the day

light academia style of white turtlenecks, beige pants, and cardigans

will take a selfie with you and set it as his lock screen so he can awe at it every second

“you’re breathtaking”

intertwines your fingers with his when you’re holding hands

swings it while walking

lots of attention once the two of you step inside the bookstore

constant whispering about the matching outfits and innocent affection

he’ll lead you to the back of the store and spend the entire day there

sits on the floor, leaning against the wooden bookcase, and stroking your hair while you’re laying on his lap

silence = peace

piles of books around you both

“how’s the plot, love?”

will ask that when his head is resting on your thigh and inwardly loves how comfy you are

buys all the books you want and waves away your credit card when you try to pay

“consider it repayment for spending the day with me”

holds the tote bag of books the whole time despite it being heavy

stops by the cafe to buy cups of hot chocolate

notices a small amount of whipped cream on the corner of your mouth

chuckles and stops to literally lean down to press his lips against yours in order to wipe it off

whispers, “you’re so lovely, angel”

both of you will pull away with flushed faces and lovesick smiles

Levi Ackerman

“what’s this for, brat?”

frowns once he opens his front door and you’re standing there with a wide grin

“happy valentine’s day, dear! I wanted to watch a movie then-”

“yeah, yeah”

lets you in anyways

takes the large basket full of movies, snacks, and skincare out of your hands

sets it on the kitchen counter and you immediately pop a bag of popcorn into the microwave

your movements are quick as you’re scurrying around the kitchen retrieving bowls, plates, and napkins

levi watches you from the couch, inwardly pleased that you’re able to memorize the layout of his house since you’ve been over so many times

he’d never tell a soul though

movies with levi!

he won’t pay attention to the movie at all but still comments film mistakes

“he wasn’t even wearing that sweater in the previous scene”

“levi, honey, who even pays attention to that”

“people with eyes”

allows you to cuddle close to him but his fingers itch to bring you even closer

audibly groans when you move away to fetch something

“self care time!” you exclaim while holding up a pack of face masks

will not let you put one on him once he sees how silly they look

“please?”

“no,” he states, “they look fucking ridiculous”

does it anyways once your puppy dog eyes are on display

curses as you slick his hair back and put one on him

hates it and voices his opinion

but at the end of the day, he agrees with the saying, ‘happy wife, happy life’

and oh yes, you were going to be his wife one day

Erwin Smith

imagine sleeping in and waking up to breakfast in bed

pancakes, waffles, bagels, raspberry streusel muffins

and everything’s like

in the shape of a heart <3

turns on some classical, romance music

sweet candles that smell like vanilla = burning

that’s what this man would do

wakes up super early

determined to whip everything up pronto

folded all the laundry, cleaned the dishes, vacuumed the house

amazing

10/10 gentleman

“good morning, love”

edges the bedroom door open with his shoulder while holding a tray of delicious food

definitely still in casual wear clothes

a sweater and grey joggers that he wore to sleep

loves the smile on your face

says “happy valentine’s day” and presses a kiss on the back of your hand

sits on the edge of the bed while you eat

chuckles when you feed him

lets you though

brushes your hair back each time you take a bite to eat

amusingly shakes his head whenever you over-exaggerate a hum in delight

pleased smirks!

definitely tried to swipe whip cream over your cheek just to hear you giggle

it’s beautiful

watches the way the sunlight pours through the window and creates a glow on your face

serenity, calmness, and adoration

discreetly pinches himself to make sure he isn’t dreaming

wouldn’t want this day to end

Porco Galliard

“you doin’ anything today or what?”

will be the first text you get from him in the early morning

after a second passes, the little dots show up to indicate he’s typing again

“nvm. lemme take you out today”

shows up to your place unannounced and immediately notices what you’re wearing

“you’re wearing that? like for real?”

“is there something wrong with it?”

notices the panic in your eyes and immediately stutters

“nah, just,” he’ll bring his hand up to swipe at his noise while avoiding your gaze, “think you’ll be cold but you can wear my jacket or whatever.”

leads you to his muscle car and opens up the passenger door for you

surprisingly chivalrous for the day

drives throughout town to pick up stuff like a blanket, picnic basket, pre-made food, drinks

pays for it, of course, because he claims he’s the better man like that

“only scummy men let their partners pay”

spends the whole day driving around, hand on your thigh, while blasting your fav songs”

rolls the windows down so other drivers look your way

will also flip off anyone that suggestively gazes at you

loves when you belt out the lyrics and eagerly want him to join your singing session

rolls his eyes, “me? singing? gross.”

will sing 100% but only if you don’t call his bluff

pulls to the side of the road and sets up a romantic picnic spot nestled in an open field

drapes his jacket over your smaller physique and only mutters, “wear it before you catch a cold”

spends the evening star gazing, letting you rest your head on his chest while his hands are folded behind his neck

carries you back to the car once you’re asleep, snaps on your seatbelt, presses a kiss on your forehead, and mumbles, “thanks for lettin’ me take you out today, idiot.”

#eren x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger headcanons #jean kirschstein #jean x reader #jean kirschtein headcanons #armin aot #armin arlert #armin x reader #levi ackerman #erwin smith #porco headcanons #porco galliard #connie springer #connie x reader

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years ago

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the birthday dinner

pairing: hawks x gn!reader

words: 1.5k

summary: hawks receives a text from you inviting him to a birthday dinner. even if initially he wants nothing but to avoid such a meeting, he complies, not realizing he has a surprise ahead of himself.

tags/warnings: feel-good fic, pea-sized angst, soft hawks and all the happiness for him because he deserves it ~

notes: happy birthday to my favourite birdman! <3

Like every other morning, the first thing Keigo did when he woke up was check his work phone. He scrunched his eyebrows as he realized it was turned off. Was it malfunctioning? He should ask the commission for a new one. As he waited for the phone to turn on, he grabbed his personal phone, wondering if there were any missed messages during the night. There was only one unopened message with your name attached on it. He tapped on it curiously.

He didn’t realize he had been smiling until it disappeared in an instant.

“happy birthday baby!!!!!! <3 i love you so much. i know you’re working today but please please please come by my place around 9. i have something planned for both of us and i think you’re gonna like it. mwah, love you, have a great day!”

Keigo ran his fingers across his scalp, his mouth twisted in a line. He loved you, he did but there was nothing he wanted less than to celebrate it. His work phone started beeping non-stop as the birthday messages came by and he let out a loud sigh. He would take care of those later, he promised himself as he hopped off of the bed and onto the shower.

Number Two Hero, Hawks, had perfected the art of fake smiles years ago. It was meant to calm down the public, to accompany his flirt persona and to hide what he was truly feeling or thinking. That’s why as soon as he entered his office, he feigned surprise when his agency jumped from behind their desks to wish him a happy birthday, the closest thing he had ever had to a birthday surprise party. They did it every year, yet Hawks would always open his mouth in surprise and put a hand on his chest, thanking everyone for the surprise and humming contently as he had a bite of the cake. After laughing with the rest of the agency, he would excuse himself, lying about paperwork or a meeting with another hero. He was such a good actor that everyone truly believed he was distraught about missing the rest of his birthday celebration.

That morning it was like every other year before. The surprise, the laughs, the cake. The online meeting he couldn’t miss. He went to his office and locked himself, his smile fading the instant he was alone. He let himself fall ungraciously on his chair and then took out his personal phone. He looked at your text again and realized he had never replied to it.

“sounds great dove. see ya <3”

The uninterested and slightly bothered look on his face didn’t match the text but he sent it anyway. Putting the phone away, he then took notice of his work phone and started going through the messages. He loathed the idea of thanking the Commission and other top heroes for their birthday wishes but he knew it had to be done. He wrote four different thank you messages on his notes app and then proceeded to randomly copy and paste them in the different messages, taking short breaks to eat the slice of matcha cake the office had given him.

He hated matcha cake.

Hawks had scheduled a lunch meeting with Endeavor, but an hour before they were supposed to meet, his assistant called saying he had another urgent meeting. Having heard the news, the rest of the heroes in his agency had begged him for him to let them take him to lunch. Doing one of his best performances yet, Hawks had told them the Commission had asked him to lunch. Being a top hero got him special attention after all. He tried his best to ignore the other heroes' disappointed faces and wondered if they really felt bad at all.

An hour later, he sat on the rooftop of his agency, eating a fried chicken takeout with his hands. He sucked on his fingertips as he watched his phone screen, a reaction video of a movie he didn’t have the time to watch in its entirety. The idea of calling you crossed his mind for a brief second before he pushed it away completely.

You didn’t need to see him like this.

Takami Keigo reached your place five minutes after nine o’clock. He had barely had time to take a shower before arriving and he already felt like his social battery was drained. When he knocked on your apartment door, he heard your voice telling him to come inside. You were still in the shower, apparently. He stepped inside, leaving his shoes on the side and looked around your apartment. There was no sign of a birthday dinner or unwanted guests, so at least he could relax about seeing other people. You came out of the bedroom wrapped up in a towel and gave him a big smile.

“Hey birthday boy,” you greeted him. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready. You do need to change though. I grabbed something for you, it’s on the coffee table,” you added, before disappearing in your bedroom.

Keigo looked down at his outfit. He had chosen a black fancy shirt and some designer jeans, knowing you had something planned out. Was that not enough? He couldn’t suppress the grimace appearing on his face. Did you have something really elegant planned out? He really didn’t want any other birthday celebrations. He had had enough of generic gifts and pretending to enjoy a date that only brought him sour memories about the disappointment of being a child whose parents would always forget about his birthdays.

He should say something to you, he thought, but the idea that you were already changing and that you had even gotten him fancy clothes to go with your idea made his chest hurt. Letting out a long sigh, he walked to the coffee table, where a big paper bag was waiting for him. He carried it to the sofa and emptied its containers.

Keigo didn’t understand when he saw a pair of sweatpants and a cotton t-shirt fall from the bag. With his eyebrows furrowed, he took the clothes to inspect them closer. They were new and incredibly soft. What kind of cotton was it? And why would he need to change into sweatpants for the birthday date you had planned?

As if you had listened to his questions, you appeared next to him, wearing your pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt. You had a big smile on your face as you circled your arms around his waist and pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

“What’s this?” Keigo asked, turning his head to you with an amused smile.

“I know you’re not really excited about your birthday, so--”

“How do you know that?” he interrupted with a cheeky smile. He turned on his heel and placed your arms around his neck, so he could hold your waist and pull you closer.

“I did ask you what did you want for your birthday a couple of weeks ago and you gave me the most unenthusiastic answer,” you chuckled. “Whatever you want, dove. I’m good,” you imitated him, exaggerating his dull voice to then let out a small laugh.

“Hey, I am pretty convincing,” he defended himself, tickling your sides and making you laugh even more.

“You are!” you assured him. “But now with me. I know all your tell-tales, Keigo,” you smiled, leaning your head to kiss his cheek.

He quickly moved his head so you ended up kissing his lips. Chuckling, you kissed him over and over on his pink lips, loving how he holds you even closer to him. You pulled away from him and held his face tenderly.

“I don’t know why you don’t like your birthday and I won’t ask. You can tell me, or not, whenever you’re ready. But I wanted us to have a relaxing night. Just the two of us, no fancy dinners, no expectations, not even the smallest reason you have to pretend to be okay. I don’t want you to pretend. Not when you’re with me, at least,” you shrugged with a sheepish smile.

Keigo looked down at you. There were so many words he wanted to tell you, all twisted and tangled on his mind, so he chose to the one truth he was always sure of.

“I love you,” he whispered, loving how his words drew a big smile on your face.

“Love you too,” you replied, pulling him closer and hugging him tightly.

Not even two seconds later, your doorbell rang. You pushed him away gently with an excited grin.

“The chicken is here! Let me get my wallet while you go change,” you said, before running to your bedroom barefoot, a content hum as you go through your drawers.

Keigo unbuttoned his shirt quickly. As soon as he put the t-shirt on, his body immediately relaxed. Not only was the fabric soft, but it smelt like you. He started thinking maybe you had put some of your perfume on them and he couldn’t be happier about that.

Maybe this was going to be a good birthday after all.

#bnha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #keigo takami #bnha hawks #hawks #mha x reader #mha hawks

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midnightwhispers12 · 4 years ago

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So, I have this idea in my head, and I’ll never write it out into a coherent fic, but the basic outline is:

The story starts with a montage of Stiles doing his caretaker-shtick - grocery shopping, cooking healthy meals, washing dishes, cleaning up the pack’s shared spaces, planning ahead for who needs to be where at what time, making sure everyone has everything they need, doing laundry, reminding the ‘wolves to schedule themselves off when they inevitably forget what day the full moon is again, etc, etc.

But.

The thing is? Stiles hates it. He HATES it. He started doing this stuff for his dad after his mom died and his dad disappeared into the office and a bottle of Jack, but it was always an obligation of the “if I’m more useful and less trouble, maybe he’ll want to spend time with me more often” variety. Their relationship eventually got better again (mostly), but if Stiles stopped doing the household chores, they just didn’t ever seem to get done. And eventually, they’d be out of food for the second week in a row, or he’d run out of clean clothes, or bathtub would be growing the mold that aggravated Scott’s asthma again, and Stiles would give in and just take care of it. And after enough times of trying to subtly shift some of the responsibility back onto his dad, and it failing every time, he just quit trying. It was less infuriating to do just do it himself.

When he moved in with Derek, some small, unspoken part of him was hoping that things would change. And, in Derek’s defense, it’s not like he just immediately refused to do anything around the apartment. But Stiles had a long habit at that point of just doing what needed done, and not waiting for someone else to do it. So he’d pick up groceries on his way home from work or class, and it wasn’t like he was going to intentionally not get the bananas for Derek’s nasty protein shakes while he was there anyway. He’d do his own laundry, and throw Derek’s laundry in too, because there’s no need to waste water on two half-full loads.

And slowly but surely, almost without even realizing it, he was back to being responsible for ALL the household chores. It only got worse once the pack filtered back in to living in Beacon Hills full time as they finished their degrees. A pack meeting needed to happen, so who was responsible for planning it? Stiles. Who was in charge of knowing when everyone was available? Stiles. Who had to clean up when the pack showed up uninvited and left their living room and kitchen in shambles? Stiles.

It’s not like he got to just stop taking care of his dad’s house either. He didn’t do as much anymore, but he and Derek had dinner at his dad’s at least every Sunday evening. They used to bring take-out over, but after the Sheriff gained 20lbs and got chewed out by his doctor for his cholesterol levels, Stiles went back to cooking for all of them every Sunday. Which turned into bringing groceries over for the meal he intended to make, because John didn’t have what he needed in the house. Which turned into bringing over a week’s worth of groceries, because the pantry and fridge were completely bare. Which turned into meal-prepping for the next week after dinner, while his dad and Derek watched whatever ESPN was showing, because seriously, eating fast food six days a week was just beyond unhealthy. And if he wanted space to cook, he had to do the week’s worth of dishes piled up in the sink. Plus, he always wound up cleaning whatever bathroom he used if he needed the toilet while they were visiting, because... gross. At least his dad seemed to be doing his own laundry now?

It doesn’t happen all at once, of course. Things build up over time, so slowly he doesn’t notice taking on one more task, and one more, and one more. No one likes doing chores, right? But someone’s got to do them. Someone has to plan ahead for the pack. If he sees that something needs done, it’s best to just go ahead and do it and get it over with, right?

Until one day, he’s just exhausted. It doesn’t make any sense, because he slept a full 7 hours last night, work is no more stressful than normal, there’s not a murderous monster of the week trying to kill everyone, nothing is wrong - everything’s actually been going surprisingly well for a while now. But Stiles is still completely and utterly wiped. Maybe he’s coming down with a bug or something? Since it’s Saturday, he decides to just take it easy and hopefully he’ll feel better tomorrow.

Derek comes over and scratches his scalp, taking a beyond obvious sniff of him (weirdo werewolves) when he sees there’s no breakfast happening, but just kisses his head and gets himself a bowl of cereal when he doesn’t smell anything amiss. The pack comes over and someone throws together sandwiches for lunch, and then they order takeout for supper. His dad shows up after his shift is over, and really, it’s a pretty typical Saturday, other than Stiles staying on the couch most of the day, instead of being up and moving around constantly. By midnight, he still doesn’t feel sick, which is good, and his mind and body both feel a little more rested. But he’s still somehow... existentially exhausted, maybe? Or something like that anyway, he doesn’t really know. It doesn’t make any sense!

But then he gets up to go to the bathroom and refill his water bottle. He looks around, and sees the clutter around the living room - the scattered pillows and blankets, magazines and books, cups and popcorn bowls, crumbs everywhere, water rings and greasy fingerprints on every flat surface. He walks into the kitchen and sees the sink completely full of dishes, the countertops piled with empty takeout boxes and trash. His foot actually sticks to the floor when he takes another step, where apparently someone spilled something and didn’t clean it up. The half-bath off the kitchen is occupied, so he shuffles toward the bedroom, and sees the laundry basket piled high; he usually does laundry on Saturday mornings, but he didn’t get to it this morning, and clearly Derek didn’t either. He finally makes it into the master bathroom, and sees Derek’s wet towels from this morning thrown on the floor.

As Stiles takes care of business on auto-pilot, he thinks about needing to go to his dad’s house tomorrow - planning what to make for the week, picking up groceries on the way there, cleaning the kitchen, cooking supper, cleaning up, making meals for the rest of the week to put in the fridge, cleaning up again, probably cleaning the bathroom.

He thinks about all the other things he’ll need to do tomorrow here at home - laundry he didn’t get done today, cleaning the living room and kitchen where it was left a mess, which means dishes, trash, sweeping, mopping, and picking up all the clutter, at least. Then MORE meal planning and grocery shopping because he didn’t get that done today either. The pack decided earlier that they wanted to go to the beach next weekend, so that’ll need planned - who’s driving, where they’re going, food and drinks to buy and pack, sunscreen, towels, after-sun gel (because werewolves always say they can’t burn, but then they do, and they WHINE, it’s so ridiculous), extra clothes because someone always forgets, talc powder and wet wipes to get all the sand off before they get back in the car, umbrellas, toys to make sandcastles (and enough shovels that the giant children won’t fight over them), a volleyball for the net... so many things. And if he doesn’t plan ahead for it all, and gather everything they need, then no one will, and it’ll be a miserable trip full of grouchy ‘wolves.

The more Stiles thinks about everything that needs done, the heavier the invisible weight on him feels, and he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling more tired than he did when he woke up this morning. Derek walks into the bedroom, apparently to change out of his tight jeans and into sweatpants for the last movie of the night, but he throws his jeans down on the floor NEXT to the laundry basket, which is RIGHT THERE.....

And something snaps in Stiles. The proverbial straw has officially broken the camel’s back, and he’s just DONE. He can’t remember the last time anyone else did a chore, or cleaned up their own mess. He’s not entirely sure how everything got to this point, but he’s abruptly furious enough to make sure it doesn’t continue on this way.

Derek trails off from his last sentence, looking over at Stiles when he smells the boiling rage coming off of him, and follows after Stiles as Stiles stalks back out into the living room to glare at all the people gathered there, werewolf and human alike. One by one, the pack notices the steam coming out of Stiles’ ears, and fall silent in apprehension. Stiles is irritated and annoyed pretty frequently, but this level of anger is rare. What’s the deal?

The deal is - Stiles is on strike. They are a bunch of full grown adults, and as of right now, they’re going to have to pull on their big wolf undies and start acting like it. He is DONE acting like their parent, and he’s not going to do it anymore. If they want to eat, they’ll have to cook. If they want to eat nothing but fast food and die of a heart attack, that’s their choice to make. If they want to live in filth, so be it. If they have a miserable trip to the beach because no one planned ahead and packed the necessities, well, it sucks to be them. If they schedule themselves to work on the full moon, that’s their own problem, he’s not warning them or fixing it for them anymore. He’ll be getting a separate laundry basket for himself, and if Derek wants clean clothes, he can wash them himself.

They want to know what happened to family/pack taking care of each other? You know what, what DID happen to that? When’s the last time anyone attempted to take care of something for HIM? When’s the last time someone else saw something that needed done, and just did it? Or do they even SEE the things that need done anymore? No, because they’re too used to Stiles just taking care of it, and they don’t have to think about it. But this system has turned them all into spoiled, ungrateful brats, and he’s not enabling that anymore. He’s just not.

At first, the pack thinks Stiles is just being overly dramatic, Derek had warned them he wasn’t feeling well, after all. But over the next few weeks, they start to notice. Things just aren’t getting done. Who was responsible for this before? Oh yeah, Stiles. Why don’t they have want they need? Oh right, Stiles stopped packing for anyone but himself. It’s just little things here and there at first, but they add up quickly.

Meanwhile, Stiles has given himself permission to quit carrying the mental load for everyone, and he’s stopped trying to take care of every single little thing for a giant group of people, and he’s feeling so much more relaxed than even he expected. Yeah, it’s a little strange not cooking for Derek, but they had a long talk about it the day after Stiles exploded rage all over everyone, and Derek sees where he hasn’t held up his end. Stiles staunchly refused to do any household caretaking for the next month, and Derek agreed; they’re going to talk about it when the month is up, and decide then how they can fairly divide their responsibilities. No one else in the pack has even tried to talk to him about it, not even his dad. They did show up for Sunday dinner like usual, but when Stiles refused to cook or clean the kitchen so someone else could cook, they wound up just ordering from the local pizza place. Stiles felt a little guilty as he watched his dad eat greasy pizza, but he reminded himself over and over that his dad was a grown man who could make his own decisions.

It takes time for the pack to feel normal again, and Stiles sometimes feels a little guilty about that too, but Derek is on his side, so it’s bearable. Derek is the one that had to clean up the mess the pack left when they all stormed out the night Stiles went on strike, after all. Slowly though, one by one, the pack members come to Stiles and each one quietly apologizes for taking Stiles for granted, for not appreciating everything he did for them. Over time, they all begin to take up more responsibility for the pack, and as a result, they feel more invested in the pack too. They become less a group of people thrown together, and more a cohesive unit. Stiles does start contributing again, but he’s careful to only take on his share. And he has to take some deep breaths to not burst into tears the first time a pack member comes over with a haul of junk food for movie night, and they actually thought to bring him Reese’s cups and Twizzlers, his two favorites.

He thought life was good before, and it was. But this? This is better.

#sterek #teen wolf #fic outline #more than I thought I’d wind up writing? but still not a real fic #and I don’t THINK I’ve read this exact plot line anywhere but I’m also very aware it’s not a super original idea #it’s probably completely OOC but i don’t care #because chores suck and one person shouldn’t be responsible for all of them #everyone should contribute

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midnightsnyx · 4 years ago

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Forever After All - Mat Barzal: part 2

summary: three years after a devastating break up, you wake up one morning in an unfamiliar apartment next to the man you thought was the love of your life: Mat Barzal. Is it a dream or a second chance?

a/n: here is part 2! i have no idea how many parts this will be cause i have many plans and ideas for it. so i kinda want to explain something about the fic so it makes sense. the reader remembers the past, her breakup with Mat and what happened but when she woke up in the first part of this story, she obviously thinks she’s dreaming because Mat is there and she can’t remember what everybody is talking about regarding the previous days. im going to write some flashbacks (there’s one in this part) to give some backstory on what exactly happened. not sure if my explanation makes sense lol but yeah i wanted to try to explain it before you guys read this part! anyway, i hope you guys like this!

word count: 2.2k warnings: none

forever after all masterpost

Part 2

You’re late for lunch because you spent nearly three hours picking through every inch of the apartment trying to get some answers because seriously, what the hell is going on? Everything you found was foreign and you couldn’t remember anything. Pictures, clothes, jewelry that you figured were from Mat that you had zero recollection of owning were neatly placed in the apartment you and Mat must be sharing.

So you’re not surprised when Hayden gives you her look. It could turn someone to stone but you’ve become immune to it through the years of your friendship. “You’re late.”

You pointedly look around the diner and raise a brow. “So is Jasper.”

She wrinkles her nose and shrugs. “Good point, I suppose.” Then she grins and looks at you expectantly. “So, how was last night?”

“Uh… last night?” You question because of course you have no idea what could’ve happened the previous night. You’re hoping she will fill in some of the blanks without being suspicious.

“Yours and Mat’s anniversary dinner?” She squints her eyes at you and then looks down at your hands that are neatly folded on the table. “And why aren’t you wearing it?”

You feel your entire body go cold and you know without seeing yourself that you look like a deer in headlights. “Wearing what?”

“The ring?” She says slowly and then her face drains of colour. “oh god, you guys didn’t break up did you? You two are like…” she waves her hands wildly. “The couple. This could break-”

You cut her off before she can stress herself out too much even through you’re still trying to process the current information. “We didn’t break up. I just…” you scramble your brain to come up with an excuse. “forgot to put it back on. After my shower.”

How the hell did you miss an engagement ring when you were going through your apartment?

“Okay, so how was last night? I want all the details. You know he’s been planning it for weeks.”

“Planning what?” Another voice says before you can answer. You look to your left to see Jasper sliding in the chair next to Hayden.

“Mat and Y/N’s anniversary dinner.” She explains and he grins.

“Oh, do tell. We need all the details.”

Great. They want all the details from a night you don’t remember.

You take a moment to figure out what to say. You don’t know if Hayden knew any of what Mat’s plans were so you can’t make something up completely.

“It was nice. You know what Mat’s like, he went all out.” You say because thinking back, when the two of you were together he had a tendency to go overboard. You knew it was his way of making up for being gone so often.

Hayden raises an eyebrow. “Awfully skimpy on the specifics.” you think she’s going to pry more but she just shrugs and smiles. “I’m sure it was lovely though.”

“It was.”

Jasper grins. “Good, ‘cause I don’t know if I could beat him in a fight.”

The smile you send back is forced because there’s so much information being thrown at you and you don’t know how to handle it. You just want whatever this is to be over.

Whatever it is, is messing with you and you’re not sure how much more you can take because it’s just reminding you of what you lost all those years ago.

. . .

After lunch you drive aimlessly through some of the neighborhoods on the island in attempt to clear your mind. There are aspects to what you’ve learned from Jasper and Hayden about your relationship with Mat that make sense. The ring caught you off guard but something that you knew after the two of you broke up was that he was planning on proposing.

It was a conversation you and Jasper had while you were grieving over your breakup. Your friends had been the rock you needed and listened when you needed to vent and were the shoulder to cry on. He showed up at your apartment at three in the morning when you’d called him crying with some chocolate and takeout in hand and the two of you had a heart to heart.

“Sam’s not mad I dragged you out of bed three in the morning is he?”

“Nah,” Jasper said. “He gets it.”

“Yeah,” you whispered. You knew the history Jasper had with dating and how understanding Sam was when they got together. He was the first guy who had the patience to deal with Jasper’s baggage and you were so grateful your best friend had found a guy who was deserving of him.

The two of you were quiet for a while, eating in silence and watching whatever movie he had put on.

“Can I tell you something?” He asked quietly and you nodded without looking up.

“He had a ring.”

It was in that moment that it felt like the entire world stopped. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, like you were drowning.

“He kind of asked for my permission? I don’t know. It was weird. I guess because he couldn’t ask a father figure in your life.”

When you felt like you could speak, you asked, “what did you tell him?”

“I told him that if he was going to give you that ring, he’d better be one hundred percent certain because I knew that if he proposed and then the two of you broke up, it was something you wouldn’t be able to get over. I told him not to hurt you.” He looked at you sadly and you’d realized there were thick tears making your cheeks wet. “I’m sorry.”

You just nodded and looked down at your left hand where there may have been a ring if things were different.

But they weren’t and there was no way you could have changed it.

. . .

You pull into the parking lot of yours and Mat’s apartment and slowly make your way in to the building. You didn’t notice his car so it’s probable that he isn’t home yet. You are glad because you want to find that engagement ring Hayden told you about.

You thought you searched everywhere but it was conveniently sitting on the bathroom counter. It’s beautiful and exactly the kind of ring you had always dreamed about which makes sense because this is a dream.

Sliding it on your ring finger, you examine it in the bright bathroom lighting. It somehow feels like it’s meant to be there while simultaneously feeling like it weighs a ton. Standing there for what feels like hours, staring at it, you nearly jump when you hear the front door open and close loudly. Mat calls out your name and you try to collect yourself because you can’t act as weird as you were this morning. You need to act normal until you figure out what exactly is going on.

“Babe?” He calls again and you hear his footsteps approaching the bathroom you’re in.

You ignore the way your voice cracks when you answer. “Yeah?”

He stops in the doorway and the smile he gives you takes your breath away. It’s painful how easy this feels - standing here with him in the apartment.

“How was lunch?” He asks, walking towards you and taking your left hand in his. His thumb runs across the engagement ring and the way he’s looking at you distracts you long enough that he raises an eyebrow, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you smile. “It was nice. They asked about last night.” You say, hoping he might give away some details.

“It wasn’t too much was it? I know how you feel about making a big deal over occasions but I couldn’t help myself.”

Helpful. You want to say but he’s looking at you expectantly so you wrap your arms around him and hide your face in his chest to hide the disappointment on your face. “No, it was perfect.”

You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head when he slides his arms around your waist. It’s so familiar, being held in his arms that it makes you want to cry because as much as you tried to move on after your breakup, you missed this. You missed him.

“Still coming to the game tonight?” He mumbles in to your hair and you just nod, knowing your voice will probably give away how close you are to tears. You step back and turn towards the shower.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” You tell him even though you’d showered this morning. You need to distance yourself from him to clear your head.

“Cool. I’m going to make some food, are you hungry or still full from lunch?”

“I can eat.” You say, reaching out to turn the shower on. When you’re satisfied with the temperature, you turn to look at him. Despite the affection you’ve shown him, you’re not ready to undress in front of him even though he’s seen you without clothes a million times when you were dating.

But this is different.

“You okay with some eggs and bacon? I know it’s a little late but that’s what I’m feeling.”

“I think it’s actually ‘cause you don’t know how to cook anything else.” You tease, laughing when he pouts.

“I’m wounded, Y/N.” He says, placing a hand over his heart and you can tell he’s holding back a smile. You walk towards his and give him a small push.

“Go make food.”

“Yes ma’am,” he grins, leaning down to kiss you before leaving the bathroom.You close and lock the door behind him, quickly stripping and hopping in to the shower. Knowing Mat will take quite a bit of time cooking, you let yourself stand under the hot water longer than normal and try to calm your mind.

It works pretty well because you are fairly clear minded when you finally go out to the kitchen. He’s just finishing cooking and you sit at the table while he dishes up the food. He sits across from you and you listen as he rambles on about how practice was and you try not to zone out but you can’t help it.

Sitting here with him with your feet resting on top of his and him insisting on holding one of your hands while you eat makes your heart ache.

Part of you still wants whatever is going on to end so you can go back to your old life but the selfish part of you wants to stay forever because you have Mat back and everything feels so perfect with him and you almost think you can forget about the past and the horrible break up between the two of you. This past day alone feels like one of the best days you’ve had in forever and it’s not even over. You’re almost afraid to go to bed tonight not knowing what you will wake up to.

If this is a dream, it’s going to break your heart to wake up and you don’t know how much more pain your heart can handle.

So for now, you let yourself savor this moment and try to forget everything about the past. You let yourself be excited for the Islanders game you’re going to tonight and you let yourself lay down with Mat after you eat and watch him after he falls asleep for his pregame nap. You stare at his features, running your fingers softly over his face trying to commit everything to memory, scared for if you fall asleep, he’ll be gone when you wake.

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