#god when did this thing hit 5k. it’s not even a good joke i just don’t have the patience for cross stitch

[sickficideas]

Hiya! May I request sick Chuuya and the flags take care of him?

ANON !!! I FINALLY GOT A GOOD BIT INTO STORMBRINGER...i got WAYYY too attached oh my god i love them all so much. i hope you like this fic i had fun writing it!!!

just a dream || chuuya + the flags sickfic (+ skk)

ao3! 5k words, sickfic, stormbringer light novel spoilers - please refer to the link for additional tags!

"I'm comin' in. Hide your girlfriends."

Chuuya groans, holding a pillow over his head. It's far too early in the morning for this. The morning light hasn't even fully flooded his room yet. He’s not entirely sure how Albatross got into his apartment to begin with, but either way, he wasn’t invited.

"Or boyfriends! I don't discriminate. You know, me and D-"

"Stop! Stop, I don't wanna know," Chuuya exclaims, loud enough to drown out the rest of Albatross's sentence in case he decided to keep going. He had plans with Albatross this morning, he thinks. Something work-related that he can't quite place right now. But they were supposed to meet at work.

Chuuya got up at some point in the middle of the night to throw up. He hardly remembers it at all, but he just barely made it to the toilet. He remembers making a few texts about not being able to come into work this morning, and one of those texts apparently went to Albatross.

"Wake up! A hangover never stopped any of us," Albatross exclaims proudly, his voice suddenly sounding much closer. Chuuya's arms are weak, he doesn't have the energy to hold the pillow over his head, and he doesn't care enough to use his ability. Albatross takes the pillow and uncovers him, and clicks his tongue at the sight. "Oh, shit, kid. You really did it this time, huh?"

"I'm not hungover," Chuuya groans, reaching an arm back out for the pillow. Albatross hands it back, but only lets him tuck it against his chest. Chuuya holds it close to him with a weak groan.

"Could'a fooled me," Albatross jokes.

"I'm serious," Chuuya grumbles, letting his eyes travel up to Albatross's face. "It's - a cold, or something."

Albatross still looks suspicious, landing a hand on his hip. He leans forward and reaches for Chuuya's forehead with his free hand.

"Sheesh, kid. You're really runnin' a fever there," he says with a click of his tongue. He pushes his sunglasses up to the top of his head, giving Chuuya a rare glimpse at his eyes. He really wishes he’s put them back on. He doesn’t like how concerned he looks. "How long you been feelin' sick for, huh?"

"Just…just since last night," Chuuya murmurs, dropping his gaze. He doesn't see the point in lying to him. He doesn't even really remember feeling sick the night before, it really only hit him that time he woke up.

"You stayin' home today?" Albatross asks.

"Uh-huh," Chuuya murmurs. He only looks at him for a second but he can't handle the worry on his face. It doesn't look right. He's never seen him make that face. "Told everyone I needed to already."

"Good. Cause it'd be crap to work when you don't feel good," Albatross says, sounding relieved. "I'll call Doc for ya. I'm sure -"

"No, please - please don't," Chuuya murmurs. "Don't tell anyone."

Albatross tilts his head.

"I just…it's not a big deal. I'll be fine tomorrow," Chuuya huffs, turning his face into his pillow. He hopes Albatross will just leave Chuuya to sleep this off, but he's not sure he'll get too lucky this time. His body betrays him and forces out a few coughs that are muffled by the pillow. He can’t tell if that’s part of his illness or if he’s just starting to feel nauseous again.

"Alright, alright. I've gotta call someone if you don't get better, though, got it?" Albatross tells him. “Lemme get you some water. You gotta stay hydrated, kid.”

Albatross disappears from Chuuya’s bedroom, and Chuuya groans into his pillow before he turns his body around, facing away from the door.

He hears Albatross talking to himself in Chuuya’s kitchen, which isn’t unusual at all for him - the guy has a hard time keeping things to himself, no matter the content. Chuuya thinks he hears his name at some point, but now that he’s starting to wake up some more, he’s starting to feel nauseous again.

The saliva starts to pool in his mouth and he groans at the feeling, starting to panic just a bit. He doesn’t want Albatross to see him throw up. He doesn’t want anyone to see him sick at all, it’s humiliating enough as it is, but this would just make things so much worse.

He's swallowing saliva, something he can’t do much longer because he feels his stomach pushing up and trying to get something up his esophagus. He knows he's going to throw up, but he can't move. He's so sore and achy. He tries to force himself to sit up, but he can hardly keep himself propped up with his weak and shaky arms.

Chuuya's stomach lurches without time for him to better prepare and he feels something splash into the back of his throat. He gags, hard, all the muscles in his abdomen contracting to bring something up, a thin stream of pale, digested contents from his stomach. He groans, his free arm wrapped tight around his middle, eyes screwed shut. It hurts.

“Shit, Chuuya…” he hears from behind him. His stomach twists and he starts to breathe heavy, hoping that getting more air in will somehow quell his nausea, but it only makes it worst. He’s just a billion times more anxious now with someone watching him and now he can’t get anything else up. He wants to cry, but he can’t imagine doing that while he’s already puking.

"Just get it up, kid. Sheets are super easy to clean," he feels the mattress shift as Albatross climbs on next to him with a gentle hand on his back. "Don't breathe so hard. Breathe gentle and it'll come up."

He tries, he really does, taking deep, calculated breaths through his mouth, trying to not focus on the fact that he’s not alone right now. Just a few breaths later, a wave of Chuuya's partially undigested dinner comes pouring out of his mouth. Chuuya coughs and gags through it, eyes screwed shut.

“There ya go,” Albatross says.

He leans over the puddle that’s started to pool in his sheets, hoping that anything else will make an appearance quickly so he doesn’t have to struggle much longer. He burps a few times in some effort to get more up, and one particularly wet belch brings up another wave of pale vomit, followed by a pained whimper.

From there, his stomach calms down just a bit. He still feels nauseous, but not enough to puke again, at least for the time being. He doesn’t remember it hurting this much last night, but maybe he’s already sore from that incident.

He groans, wishing he could just melt into the mattress and disappear. He really doesn’t feel good. He’s glad his fevered middle-of-the-night brain made the right call and decided to not come to work.

"You're gonna have to let me call somebody to bring you some meds," Albatross says as he slides the soiled sheet off of Chuuya’s bed, clearing him to lie back down. "I don't have nothin’ and I doubt you do either."

"Fine," he murmurs quietly, curling in on himself and taking that same pillow from before to hold against his aching stomach. The pressure does help a little bit.

“You got extra comforters anywhere?” Albatross asks, and Chuuya barely manages to lift up an arm to point toward a closet at the corner of the room, where Albatross wastes no time in finding something to cover Chuuya with. He feels a shiver take over his body even after Albatross lays the comforter over him. The last thing he needs is to deal with the chills.

Evidently, though, throwing up tired him out so much that he starts to fall asleep before he can further agonize about his situation.

…

"Special delivery!" Chuuya hears. He doesn’t pay much attention to who it could be at first, but it’s not Albatross. It’s further away, far from his bedroom door. He groans, wishing he had stayed asleep. 

It's Pianoman's voice, he thinks. He starts to tense up at the realization that someone else is here now, and his stomach starts to cramp again. He's gotten used to Albatross seeing him ill, but now he's going to have to be okay with others, too.

He decides his best course of action is to pretend to be asleep, not that it will be too difficult. He’s starting to realize he feels worse than before. His stomach hurts from the nausea but the soreness too, and his head swims and spins at the slightest movement.

He hears their footsteps come closer. There’s a third set, too, so it’s not just Pianoman. He curls up tighter in the center of his bed with a pained groan, tucking his face back under a pillow. Go home, he wants to tell them. He’s fine. He just needs to sleep it off. He doesn’t want anyone’s help.

"I think he's asleep. I'll give it to him when he wakes up," Albatross says quietly right outside the bedroom door, and Chuuya sighs in relief, thinking he’s avoided a crisis for now.

He wonders what time it is. It seems Albatross has pulled down the blinds, so any sunlight to tell him the time of day is blocked out. He’s tempted to get up and see, or at least reach over to grab his cell phone, but he really doesn’t even have the energy to do that.

He lies still for a few moments, but with the way his stomach is turning, he’s not sure if he’ll be able to fall asleep any time soon. He’s hungry, but too nauseous to even think about food. That’s the worst kind of feeling.

"Hey. I know you're awake, Chuuya," Pianoman says, his voice suddenly beyond Chuuya’s bedroom door. His voice is gentle, not accusatory, so Chuuya doesn’t feel as anxious - but he still doesn’t want anyone to see him. "I think it'd be better if you took this medicine sooner rather than later with how you're feeling."

Chuuya doesn’t move. Maybe he can trick Pianoman, but he quickly realizes that’s a foolish thought. He couldn’t ever trick Pianoman.

He hears a plastic bag rustle, and Pianoman sits on Chuuya’s king mattress. “I have some nausea medicine for you too. Albatross told me your stomach’s been bothering you.”

Chuuya doesn’t like that Pianoman knows about that, but at this point, he would rather get his nausea under control than worry about his image. He begrudgingly turns over so that Pianoman knows he’s not hiding anymore. When their eyes meet, he watches Pianoman’s brow furrow.

“I know I look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, surprised at how hoarse his voice sounds. He hasn’t been coughing all that much.

“I wonder how you caught this,” Pianoman says, taking three medicine bottles out and setting them down on Chuuya’s nightstand, along with two cups of water that he apparently brought with him. “Two of these are liquid, sorry. But they tend to work better, I’ve noticed.”

Chuuya doesn’t care much, as long as they’ll help. He forces himself up, and Pianoman reaches out an arm to help him - the touch makes Chuuya freeze up. “Relax. I’m just trying to help.”

Chuuya groans and lets him. Pianoman props up a few of his pillows at the headrest and helps Chuuya lean against that, that way he’s sitting up but still comfortable, and he’s grateful for Pianoman’s thoughtfulness, but he keeps his eyes low. He’s hoping that avoiding eye contact will make him forget about this faster.

“I feel like this one always gives me awful nightmares,” Pianoman says with a huff as he hands Chuuya a cup of medicine, which he takes like a shot with no issue. The taste is artificial fruit and bitter, but if he imagines it’s more like alcohol, it’s not as unbearable. "Do you get nightmares?"

"No," Chuuya murmurs. "I don't dream at all."

"I thought I heard you say that before. Might be a good thing, then. A lot of people get bad nightmares when they have fevers like you do, even without medicine," Pianoman says. "Lippmann does."

That seems like an intimate detail to know about someone, especially to share with others, but he doesn't say anything.

“We’ve all seen each other sick. You don’t need to hide from us,” Pianoman assures him. Chuuya realizes that’s the point he was trying to make, but he still can’t meet his gaze. He just takes the next cup of medicine and downs it, but this time, his stomach twists. This one tastes much worse. He thinks this one might make him vomit even if he wasn’t ill. He presses a hand up to his mouth and Pianoman is quick enough to recognize the situation - he’s holding a trash bin under Chuuya’s chin, allowing him to choke up the medicine he just swallowed, that never had a chance of staying down at all.

His stomach still tries to get more up, even though he’s sure that the only thing left in his system was the medicine he just swallowed. The way his abdominal muscles squeeze together against his sore stomach hurts so much he can hardly take it. He’s ashamed. He’s dealt with injuries far worse than a little stomachache, but this hurts so bad that tears prick at his eyes.

"It's okay. I know it hurts," he tells him gently, tucking Chuuya’s hair behind his ears as it threatens to get caught in the saliva that’s starting to form strings from his mouth. "You don't have to hold back your tears for any of us, Chuuya."

“But, I…” he starts, cut off by a pained groan. He spits up the salvia that’s gathered in his mouth.

“I know. Your whole body’s sensitive right now ‘cause of that fever you’re running. And throwing up with nothing in your stomach hurts. Trust me, I know,” Pianoman tells him. “I don’t blame you at all.”

Chuuya lets his tears fall, and he whimpers from the pain he’s in.

He seems to only get worse from there. He doesn’t have enough energy to hold himself up properly anymore, even with the propped-up pillows, so once he thinks he’s done gagging, Pianoman helps him lie back down. He can’t stop his tears, they darken spots on his pillow. He feels so sick. He wishes he could just fall asleep again. He doesn’t want anyone to see him.

He quickly finds out Lippman was the third person who entered his apartment, and the concern taking over his face as soon as he sees Chuuya from the doorway is too much for him to handle. He can’t imagine how awful he must look, especially now that he’s been crying. He’s so pathetic.

“Albatross, that’s far too wet to put on his forehead. You need to wring some of that water out,” he hears Lippmann say after Chuuya stuffs his face back into a pillow to avoid being seen. “Here, let me see it.”

“Always stealin’ my thunder, huh, Lippmann…” Albatross says, clicking his tongue.

“This isn’t thunder. This is a monsoon,” he says, supposedly waving the soaked cloth around.

Soon enough, he feels a hand gently turn his head so he’s looking at the ceiling, and Lippmann lays a cool, folded washcloth over Chuuya’s forehead. It feels incredible. For just a second, he feels like he’s cured, but of course, it’s never that easy. He lets his eyes fall shut and tries to take the opportunity to relax.

Lippmann smooths down Chuuya's hair, something he would normally be greatly opposed to but it feels nice. Lippmann's hands are always ice cold. He thinks Lippmann is sitting beside him on the bed, which for some reason, he’s not opposed to. He’s trying to relax. Every breath makes him more sore. He groans from the pain and turns his head to the side, only to be turned back up by Lippmann.

"I called Doc. He should be on his way soon," Pianoman says as he enters the room. Chuuya didn’t even realize he was gone. "Definitely wouldn't hurt to get some IV fluids in you. I'm sure you're dehydrated."

"Poor thing," Lippman says with a sigh, a hand of his on Chuuya’s clammy cheek. "Let me see a thermometer, Piano. He feels much warmer."

“I couldn’t find one earlier,” Pianoman says. “I told Albatross to go look at his place. Let me go make sure he still remembers what I asked him to do.”

Pianoman disappears again too, but Lippmann stays, still smoothing down Chuuya’s hair. He tries to shift himself onto his side to get more comfortable, and he realizes just how much sweat is covering his body. The hair framing his face feels like it’s stuck to his skin.

Chuuya hears his phone buzz in the nightstand. It’s a buzz different from the normal notifications, because it’s Dazai. That son of a bitch gets his own special one.

“Lippmann?” Chuuya croaks, his eyes barely about to make it up to his face. “Can you…can you hand me my phone?”

“Of course. In the nightstand here?” Lippmann confirms and Chuuya manages a nod. He gently hands him the phone.

Chuuya’s eyes take a few seconds longer than normal to adjust to its brightness, and Lippmann briefly leans over to turn it down for him while he’s still getting used to it. He groans when he sees the message on the screen, and he replies almost right away without thinking much of it.

He sees Dazai open the message, but to his surprise, he doesn’t get a reply. He groans. Why on earth would Dazai message him anyway? Why does it matter to him where he is?

“Is this the Boss’s kid you’re texting?” Lippmann asks, his head tilted. Lippmann knows that Dazai isn’t actually Mori’s son, but that's what the Flags call Dazai.

Chuuya just groans and nods. He closes his phone for a moment. Half of him just wants to block Dazai’s number, even though in his defense, he’s just asking a rather innocent question.

“I saw him very early this morning on my way to meet with the Boss. He asked me where you were. That was before Albatross called us,” Lippmann says. “It doesn’t hurt to tell him. Maybe that way he won’t bother you, if that’s what you want.”

Chuuya huffs. He’s not sure how he feels about Lippmann’s claim that Dazai would ask where he is. Would he even really care? Chuuya doesn’t think so, but it’s strange that Dazai would ask Lippmann that, and even directly text Chuuya on top of it.

He groans again, long and annoyed, before he opens his phone to send another message.

He lets his phone slip from his hands, and Lippmann takes it and puts it back in the drawer for him - and it’s not long until he hears the others come back too.

Chuuya really doesn’t feel well.

He can’t rely much on his senses at the moment. He feels himself cough every now and then, but it almost feels numb, like his body forces him to do it. The last thing he can clearly hear from any of them is his temperature - a hundred and three point one, only because Lippmann makes it a point to make sure Chuuya can hear him. Chuuya never measured his fever to begin with, but he know it wasn’t that high. That’s not good.

It feels as if he only shuts his eyes for a moment, but when he opens them again, Doc has entered his field of vision. It looks like he’s talking to someone else, but he can't hear anything.

He feels someone tugging on his arm, and another smoothing down his hair. He’s not entirely sure what’s going on. He feels his chest tighten up and he wants to get away. His body tenses up and he’s waiting for Doc to leave an opening for Chuuya to get away, but he doesn’t. He turns his head and makes eye contact with Chuuya, and smiles. Doc kind of has a creepy smile, and it’s difficult to tell if it’s genuine most of the time, but Chuuya finds this one reassuring. He relaxes.

No one here is going to hurt him. He’s safe with them.

…

When Chuuya wakes up again, he feels like a new person.

His ears feel clear. He can hear the mattress when he shifts his weight, something he would never imagine being grateful to hear. He hears someone else breathing, and somehow, he has the energy to push himself up.

Doc is leaned against the wall in a chair from Chuuya’s kitchen. Reading from some impossibly large textbook that Chuuya almost thinks must be too heavy for his frail arms, he doesn’t notice Chuuya’s movements, or he at least doesn’t acknowledge them.

Chuuya sneaks a hand into the drawer beside his nightstand to fish out his phone to check the time, and he sees a message from Dazai.

Chuuya wasn't expecting a sort-of-nice message from him. He almost thinks for a moment this isn’t really Dazai, but he’s distracted by movement from Doc.

“Heheh…good morning, Chuuya,” he says, lowering the textbook down to the floor. Chuuya knows it’s not really morning, now, his phone said something close to seven in the evening, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Doc was being serious. He doesn’t strike him as the kind of guy to have a good sleep schedule.

Doc stands up and drags the chair behind him over to Chuuya’s bedside, and Chuuya moves closer to the edge, assuming Doc’s intention is to check him over. Chuuya doesn’t want to make him stand, he knows he can’t do that for very long. Chuuya’s eyes follow Doc’s IV line up to a pole that’s standing beside Chuuya’s bed, with an extra bag of fluids on a line extending down to Chuuya’s forearm.

“We’re matching,” Doc says with his usual off-putting smile, meeting Chuuya’s gaze. Chuuya’s never asked him why he always has that thing, but maybe he’s more content with not knowing.

“Guess that thing’s kinda handy,” Chuuya says as he lays back. His voice is still pretty hoarse. He tries to clear it, and Doc offers him a glass of water that’s been on his nightstand. He starts to wonder where the others have run off to, and the door opens, revealing the missing Flag.

"You look a little better now," Iceman says to him as he walks over. Doc doesn’t turn his head, so Chuuya assumes he’s known that Iceman has been here. "Compared to what I saw when I got here."

"Where is everyone?" Chuuya asks before Doc slides a thermometer under his tongue.

"Passed out in your living room,” Iceman says bluntly.

“Albatross sent us all a photo of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together, heh,” Doc recalls with an amused grin before he takes the thermometer back.

“In my apartment? Ew,” Chuuya groans. “What’s it say?”

Doc had already laid the thermometer down on the table, and he leans over to refer back to it to answer Chuuya’s question. “One hundred point seven. Much better than earlier.”

Chuuya’s relieved to hear that. He was really worrying this was something he was going to be suffering from all weak, but Doc seems to have worked his magic on him. Chuuya wished he had given in to calling him over sooner.

“We already notified everyone who needed to know that you’ll be off tomorrow, too.” Iceman tells him, wandering over to the window to open up the blinds and let some of the evening light in. Another one had already been opened up.

“Tomorrow? No way, I’ll be fine by then,” Chuuya grumbles, looking over to Doc for backup.

“I don’t recommend it. Unless you’re fond of fainting on the job,” Doc says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Just one extra day to get your energy back. You’ll live,” Iceman says. “You should take any days off you can get, Chuuya. Take it from us.”

Maybe if they’re all here, it won’t be so bad.

“I’m putting an injection into your fluid line here…might make you tired…” Doc says, pushing a syringe full of a clear substance into the line, and Chuuya feels the effects almost right away.

“Just don’t go anywhere…” Chuuya murmurs as his eyes start to fall shut. His mouth betrayed him by admitting thoughts he didn’t want to share with the room, but he sees faint smiles from both of them before he loses his battle with the drowsiness.

…

"You finally up?"

Chuuya wasn't expecting to hear Dazai's voice.

He forces himself to sit up, and he's in a different bedroom. He’s done so far too quickly, it seems, because his head swims and tilts his world sideways so much that he nearly faints, but he forces himself to stay upright on the bed.

Dazai is standing right at the end of it. He looks perplexed, and Chuuya can’t figure out why, but Chuuya’s even more confused. Dazai looks different. His eyes don't look so dark. He looks taller, somehow. He’s not wearing his usual getup. He’s wearing a bolo tie. Why the hell is he wearing a bolo tie?

"Where's…" Chuuya murmurs. He can’t quite remember what he was going to say.

"Where's who? It's just me here," Dazai says, the confusion in his eyes only deepening as he makes his way over to the side of the bed.

Chuuya's stomach drops. He doesn't understand what's going on.

"Hey, hey. What are you so worked up about?" Dazai asks him, and the tiny hint of concern in his nonchalant attitude is freaking him out. Dazai hadn’t texted him that he was coming over. Why is he here? Why would he show up?

"I was just…I just, um…" Chuuya starts mumbling as he scrambles to get to the edge of the bed he’s on, "they were all here. You were at…they…"

"Bad dream?" Dazai says, a hesitant hand reaching out towards Chuuya’s. That’s not like him. Why is he so confused?

"What…?" Chuuya starts, just then registering Dazai’s words. That's not possible. Chuuya doesn't dream. He's never had a dream. Chuuya swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands up despite his head’s protests, and he’s relieved to see Doc’s face, back where he was, leaned against the wall.

But he hears blood dripping.

And when he lowers his gaze, just a bit, it seems his brain omitted the fact that the lower half of Doc’s body is missing. There’s nothing below his torso, nothing but a growing pool of blood.

Chuuya screams.

…

"You blacked out on me again," Dazai says. His voice is gentle, as Chuuya wakes up again, once again in a different room. It feels more familiar this time. He’s in a living room, and he thinks it’s his. “Your fever’s worse. I took you out here, it’s kinda warm in your bedroom.”

"Sorry," he mumbles. He can't muster up energy for much else. His body aches. He looks for any signs of the Flags. The IV pole. Lippmann’s hand on his forehead. The medication Pianoman brought home for him. None of it is there.

Was any of that real? Was he hallucinating? It’s happened before, when he gets high fevers, but this one felt so real. It was almost like he just experienced it, in real life, and then suddenly he fell asleep for several years - and now he’s back in the present.

Was it a dream?

"I wanna go ride," Chuuya murmurs. Dazai’s hand is on his cheek. He pulls it away and sits back on the coffee table, that same look of confusion taking over his face again.

"Your bike?" Dazai asks.

"Uh-huh," he says.

"No-can-do, buddy. You can barely stand up," Dazai reminds him with a half-smile, hints of concern still visible.

Chuuya’s head turns in his direction. His chest feels tight. "'S not my bike."

Dazai still looks confused. "Yeah?"

"'S Albatross's bike," Chuuya barely manages. He still feels his cold hand in his. He knows they’re all dead, it’s beyond him why he thought just a few moments ago that they were all still in his apartment. It takes everything in Chuuya to keep himself together.

"I know, Chuuya." Dazai murmurs, his expression falling. “What’s up with you today?”

Chuuya’s eyes start to flood with tears, only furthering Dazai’s concern. He kneels beside the couch and Chuuya tries to sit himself up, only melting into Dazai’s arms in his attempt to get up. Everything hurts. He doesn’t know why he’s so overcome with emotion. Maybe he’s just sensitive right now because of his apparent illness, but the feelings he holds are real.

Dazai’s trying to comfort him, but Chuuya can’t hear his words. He holds him close. It’s incredibly rare for him to be so sympathetic. He must know something isn’t quite right with Chuuya right now.

If it really was a dream, he wants nothing more than to go back.

…

“We can go visit their graves when you feel better. If you want to,” Dazai offers, sort of out of nowhere. Chuuya’s been silently curled up in his bed for a few hours. Dazai offering him water and bites of food he can hardly stomach every now and then, making sure he takes medication.

“It’s raining,” Chuuya murmurs. He’s mindlessly scrolling through old messages from his friends, on a cellphone he hasn’t touched since they were killed. His heart hurts. He doesn’t have the will to get up.

“Hopefully it stops once you’re up for it,” Dazai says, reaching forward to brush some of Chuuya’s unruly bangs from his eyes.

Chuuya sees a rare photo in their message thread. A picture of Lippmann and Pianoman sleeping together on his old couch from an apartment he used to live in, followed by them in the same position, but this time, in selfie form courtesy of Albatross. It’s a photo that feels familiar, but he can’t remember why. Maybe they were drunk. Maybe he never came across this photo until now. But for some reason, it’s comforting to see.

“Yeah,” Chuuya mumbles, his eyes floating up to Dazai. “Let’s go.”

“Alright. Just let me know whenever you’re up for it,” Dazai tells him.

Chuuya’s still staring at the photo.

[revelationoh]

“grandma” crafts ranked by how afraid of them i am, from least to most

knitting – i watched a woman painstakingly knit her own wedding dress on instagram. the only reason i am not viscerally terrified of knitting is that i can knit and have therefore accepted the horror into my heart, 4/10 for effort

crochet – THERE IS ONLY ONE HOOK. HOW. HOW DO YOU DO THAT. but again, i can single chain enough to seam my knitting, so we’re relatively cool 6/10

embroidery – it’s so little and so detailed???? literally you do that with a tiny needle and it looks like it could walk off the fabric. you’re a witch i don’t make the rules. i mean, we’re all witches, but you especially 9/10

spinning/weaving – literally you are making something out of primordial fluff. this by definition makes you a god, i’m pretty sure. y’all are incredible and i am in awe 10/10

tatting or handmaking lace by other methods that aren’t knitting or crocheting – part of me is also always going to be convinced you’re a spider god but in a cool way. definitely the most intricate products, and the fact that i can’t parse how they come into being is why i fear and respect you. 11/10 you incredible terrors

cross stitching – THIS IS FORBIDDEN MAGIC. WHAT ARE YOU. ALL THE LITTLE SQUARES???? 1000/10

[sundaysundaes]

Whispers

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff | 5k | Idol AU

Summary: Donghyuck has been busy promoting his new album and no matter how much he misses you, he can’t see you in person due to his schedules. Desperate for your touch, he begins to call you late at night.

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation (male and female), dirty talk (but is it still called ‘dirty talk’ if Donghyuck is just being honest and saying whatever that comes to his mind?), no plot with a lot of dialogues

The vibration of your iPhone wakes you up from your dream. Being thrown back so suddenly to reality makes you feel slightly lightheaded but it’s all worth it the second you see his name written on your screen. Rubbing your eyes away from sleep, you answer his call, “Hyuck?”

“Hey, Noona.” The airiness of his honeyed voice sounds familiar and pleasant in your ears that it instantly paints a smile on your face. “Did I wake you?”

You refrain yourself from yawning. “Yeah, I fell asleep reading.” Narrowing your eyes irritatedly at the brightness of the fluorescent light hanging on your ceiling, you decide to switch it off and uses the dim glow of the bedside lamp instead.

“What time is it?” He gasps when he notices the time on his screen. “Three AM?! Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t be sleeping anyway. I still have to work on my papers, so it’s actually good that you woke me up.” You nuzzle close to the pillow, holding your phone to your ear with one hand, blinking sleepily. “Did you just get back from schedule?”

“Yeah.” He sighs wearily. “I’m dead tired right now. I wish I could just take a day off, you know? I mean, performing is fun, but promoting a new album can be so hectic. I’ve only been sleeping for, like, two hours per day since last week.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You bring the teddy bear he’d given you on your birthday close to your chest, pretending like you were embracing him. “I wish you could take some days off, too.”

“Yeah?” Somehow, he sounds like he’s smiling. “Then do what?”

“I don’t know, play games, I guess? Or just lie around in bed, doing nothing.”

“I’d rather be doing something, actually.” He chuckles softly, a hint of teasing in his voice. “Or someone.” 

“Gross,” you retort but you can feel your lips curving upwards. “It’s okay if you want to rest, Hyuck. You don’t have to force yourself to call me every day. Your health should be your number one priority.”

“What, you don’t want me to call you?”

You freeze. “Of course I want you to call me. I just—”

“I thought you’d be excited to hear my voice.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone makes you sit up from the bed, eyebrows adjoined in confusion. “What—Hyuck—”

“You know what?” He exhales loudly. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have called. It’s late anyway.“

“Can you please just listen—”

“I’m tired. Let’s just talk tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Hyuck—” But you’re only answered by silence when the line gets disconnected. You stare at your phone, eyes wide in disbelief. 

What the hell just happened?

Upset and vexed, you dial his number. You wait with your jaw clenched until he picks up on the fourth ring. “Can’t you listen to me for one second?!” Not sure if it’s because of the drowsiness or exhaustion, but you find yourself shouting even before he says anything. “Of course, I want you to call me, you idiot! It’s the only thing I’ve been waiting all day. Every day, Hyuck, I wait for your call every day. I keep catching myself checking on my phone every ten minutes, waiting for your texts, wanting to call you. I miss you, of course, I miss you—you’re—” You turn stiff when you hear him cackling from the other side of the phone. “Are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry.” His laughter is contagious but you put up your best effort not to get infected. “You’re so cute when you get all riled up. Isn’t it obvious that I was just joking?”

“Right. I’m hanging up.” 

“Wait, Noona—” You listen to him with your eyes throwing ice daggers to the wall. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I promise.” There’s a small pause where you’re too irritated to talk and he’s too unsure to start but he tries. “So, like… you miss me?”

“Not right now.”

“Aaw, come on, I was just messing around.” You can imagine him puckering his lips, batting his eyelashes for forgiveness. “Please, tell me. Tell me how much you miss me.”

You throw yourself back to the bed, huffing. “I don’t think I want to.”

“You get cuter when you’re angry, you know that?” He sighs to the air. “Aaah… I miss you. I miss you so much, Noona, you don’t even know. Probably more than you miss me.”

I don’t think that’s possible. “Of course,” you reply, holding back a smile from breaking on your face. “Since I only miss you a little bit.”

“A little bit?”

“A tiny, tiny bit. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss you at all.”

“Is that so?” You can tell he’s exhausted by the way he lets out his chuckle, but it doesn’t mean it’s less sincere. “It really has been a while since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?”

You nod to yourself. “Four months.”

“You keep count, huh?” His teasing tone makes you flushed. “Love me that much, do you?”

“Around four months,” you correct him, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible when the truth is, you can practically hear your heart hammering against your ribcages. “Or maybe three? Five? I don’t know.”

“Why are you so cute? Seriously, how can you be this cute?” Donghyuck sits on the edge of his bed, lips forming so widely that it nearly splits his face in half. When his chuckles have receded, his eyes begin to soften. “I love you, Noona. You know that, right?”

People might be thinking about how lucky you are to have a member of one of the most prestigious boybands in the world confessing his love for you at 3 AM, but honestly? You’re just so grateful for the fact that Lee Donghyuck, a boy who stole your heart nearly a decade ago when you were too young to even understand the word love, finally realized that your entire relationship with him was deeper than a mere friendship. It took years for both of you to finally gain enough bravery to act out your feelings, especially when he managed to shine brighter than you could ever imagine being. You were afraid of it—afraid that you would be burnt by his fame, afraid that he would discard you for he had everything and you only had him. But Donghyuck didn’t want anything. He only wanted you.

You love him. You’ve been loving him for as long as you can remember so hearing him say the words, no matter how often he has mentioned it already, still sparks fire through your veins. You’ll never admit that out loud, though.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot these days,” he sheepishly adds. 

“More than you think about yourself?” You snort. “I’m shocked.”

“Eeyyy, I’m serious.” The sound of your giggle makes him sigh, longing to hear it in person. “I wish I could be with you right now. I thought about you a lot during today’s photoshoot too.” He lies down on the bed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought about our last date. About that red dress you wore. Man, you looked so cute in that dress.”

You half-buried your face in the pillow, heat blossoming on your cheeks. “Now this is the topic I like to talk about.”

Donghyuck scrunches up his nose. “Aren’t you gonna say I looked nice too that day?”

Even the slightest thought of him—any version of him, whether it was him dressing handsomely on a date or him waking up in the morning with a bird’s nest on his head—never fails to send butterflies swirling in your stomach, but again, you’ll never admit that out loud. “Meh,” you jeer, even adding a shrug when you know he won’t be able to see. “Could’ve dressed better. I mean, ripped jeans? Really?”

“Yah, yah, yah. You said I looked good wearing those jeans!”

“We were going to a fancy restaurant and I wore a semi-formal dress, Hyuck. They just didn’t match my outfit. They didn’t match anyone’s outfit there, really.”

“Really? You’re gonna say that? Even after you spent the whole night stealing glances at me with drool on your face?”

You wish you could say he was lying, but you indeed spent the entire night drooling at him over the sight of his black leather jacket and the way his jeans just wrapped his thighs so perfectly. “I have lost interest in this topic.” It’s for the best before you combust into flames. “Where are you right now?”

“Back at the dorm.” He softly yawns. “In my room.”

“Alone?”

“Yep, since Johnny-hyung is filming out of town.” When you stay quiet, unsure of what to say, Donghyuck grins mischievously. “Why, do you wanna sneak in? I think I can afford to lose some sleep tonight, if you know what I mean.”

Flustered, you retort, “After Johnny caught us cuddling last time? No way.”

“Yeah, about that,” Donghyuck says a little awkwardly, “After you went home he said to me that he heard the whole thing—”

“What do you mean the whole thing?” The horror in your face and your voice is clear.

“I meant, the whole thing. Us having sex and stuff.”

You could practically feel the exact moment when your soul is leaving your body, but Donghyuck continues as if he’s simply talking about getting caught cheating during a test. “But it’s okay, he’s cool. He’s got my back.”

“Oh my God.” You nearly faint. “I will never show my face in front of your roommate, ever again.”

“Yeah, about that—“

“Are you fucking kidding me, Hyuck—”

“Jaehyun-hyung heard us too.”

“What?!”

“And he told Mark-hyung about it later on, and that’s the reason why I had this bump on my head for three days.” Donghyuck pouts, rubbing the back of his head, lean fingers carding through soft brown locks. “He hit me with a book, lecturing me about bringing you to the dorm as if he never did that himself.”

Not trying to overreact about it, but you’re suffocating by this point. “Why are you so chill about this?!”

“They heard us having sex, not murdering the innocents.” He rolls his eyes but seems amused at your reaction. “To be honest, I hear a lot of stuff happening in our dorm that I’m sure you don’t wanna know. Like, a lot a lot. Way worse than what I did with you.”

“And does Taeyong know about this?”

“Taeyong-hyung needs his beauty sleep so we agreed not to tell him stuff.”

“I feel sorry for him.”

“I just feel sorry he’s not part of our antics.” Donghyuck shrugs, kicking off his shoes and socks before he leans against the headboard. “How about you? Are you alone?”

“Yeah.” You heavily sigh, still feeling quite dizzy after hearing the truth he just blurted out. “My roommate’s gone for the weekend.”

“Oh…” He taps his fingers against his stomach, a weird feeling swirling inside his chest as a thought begins to form. “That’s… great…”

Donghyuck’s tongue lays heavy in his mouth, suddenly loses the ability to form a simple conversation as his mind begins to focus entirely on something else. It all started that one night when he pretended to be asleep, when in fact, he was listening to his roommate, Johnny, speaking to his girlfriend in hushed whispers. The way the older man was chuckling to his phone was suspicious, and the more he tried to listen intently, the more he realized that Johnny wasn’t conversing. He was giving orders with a voice thick with seduction. The sensual words Johnny used made Donghyuck’s ears turn scarlet, and he buried his face deeper behind his blanket. Since then, the curiosity within him has been rising more and more, nearly suffocating him sometimes when he desperately yearned for your touch but his schedule never let him take a goddamn break.

Not knowing the dirty thoughts that flit across his mind, you carry on your conversation like usual. “I guess, but it does get lonely sometimes when she’s not around. I actually like having a roommate.” The sandalwood aroma from your diffuser, combined with his velvety voice, comforts you and you’re finally able to relax. “Have you been eating well? I’ve been craving for strawberry—” 

“What are you wearing?”

“—pancakes—what?”

“I…” Donghyuck heaves out a heavy breath, biting the corner of his lip, unsure yet not ready to give up on his desire. “I just… I was wondering—Are you wearing pajamas?”

“Umm…” The way he asks about it sends heat rising to your cheeks. He doesn’t sound as innocent as the words he uses. You look down, fingers curling at the hemline of your clothes. “I’m wearing one of your shirts, actually.”

Donghyuck throws his head back, eyes tightly shut as he curses silently into the air, his phone pressed against his chest. The sight of you wearing his oversized shirt has been one of his most recurring fantasies and not being able to see you, but knowing that you are wearing his shirt, kills him. 

“Hyuck?”

Donghyuck brings his phone back to his ear. “Sorry, there was a… Mark.” He mentally slaps himself on the head. 

“There was a Mark?”

“I mean, Mark-hyung was here—but he just left so—" 

“Are you drunk again?”

“No!” Donghyuck rubs his temple. This is not going well, he shouts in his mind. “Why—” He winces when he hears his voice crack. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Because it smells like you and it helps me sleep better. “Just because,” you quietly mumble, eyes locked to the ceiling. “Why are you asking me this exactly?”

“Just because,” he mimics. His breathing sounds more prominent as if he’s in the same room, only a few inches away from your ear. It’s the reason why you enjoy talking to him this way instead of taking video calls. You can focus solely on his honeyed voice, almost like a lullaby to your ears. “Can you tell me…” he continues, laced with both hesitation and anticipation, “What else you're wearing?”

“Umm…” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself composed. “I don’t think I want to say.”

“Please, Noona.” The sudden desperation in his plead startles you as if he’s losing control of himself, little by little. He seems to notice that too because when he speaks again, it’s steadier, almost formal. “I just… I want to know. If that’s okay.”

“Well…” You curl your toes. “Aside from your shirt, I’m…” Just say it, for God’s sake. He’s your boyfriend. He’s seen you naked. “I’m only wearing my panties.”

There’s a pause that makes your heart thump. “Not, uhh…” Donghyuck wets his lip. “Not even a bra?”

You fiddle with your fingers. “N-no.”

“Fuck.”

You nearly drop your phone. The guttural groan he just emitted from the back of his throat catches you off guard. “Hyuck..?”

“Noona, there’s—” Donghyuck sits up straight, nails nearly sinking to his jean-clad thigh. “There’s something I want to try.” There’s a sense of urgency mixed with minimum self-control. “I-if you don’t mind…”

You know where this is going. “What is it?”

“Just—Just follow my lead, okay?”

You shakily nod your head. When he calls out your name again, you remember that you have to say it in words. “Okay.”

“Can you…” Donghyuck’s heart is beating out of control.  His mind desperately tries to answer how the fuck do I start this?! “Can you, umm, lie down on the bed for me?”

You can tell he’s nervous and it’s both reassuring and endearing to know that he’s never done this with anyone else before and probably not mentally ready to do it with you, but tries to go all the way because he knows both of you need to find a way to release all of these pent-up emotions. 

You follow his order. “I’m…” You take a deep breath so your voice won’t tremble too much. “I’m lying on my bed.”

Donghyuck always takes a few seconds before answering, as if he’s battling inside his head as he tries to sort out his thoughts. “Is your light turned on?”

“Yes.”

“Turn it off.”

You switch off the button on your bedside lamp. “Okay, it’s off.”

“Okay, mine too.” Then all you can hear is his slightly ragged breathing. “It’s… a bit awkward, isn’t it?” He chuckles nervously, followed by an inaudible, “Fuck, why am I so nervous,” as he’s straying away from the phone. 

A smile paints your lips. “You’re adorable.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” 

When silence strikes, Donghyuck scratches his cheek. “Do you… want to know what I’m wearing?”

You gulp. “S-sure.”

“Well…” Donghyuck takes a look at himself. “I’m wearing a denim jacket, a white shirt, a pair of jeans—I just got back from a photoshoot so—”

So he must look good. “Take them off.”

He’s probably as startled as you are when you hear the words tumbling down your mouth. But even if he is as embarrassed as you are, he doesn’t make it as obvious. “Sure.” A rustling sound can be heard, and you let your imagination wander. You can tell he’s taking off his jacket and soon, his shirt will follow. Donghyuck would always take his shirt off by grabbing the fabric from the back and yank it over his head, instead of crossing his arms at his waist. There’s something masculine about it, but you tend to get more distracted at the way his muscles would contract in his lean stomach. His silver necklace would dangle around his neck, and he��d smirk whenever he caught you staring at him for a second too long. 

“My shirt’s off,” he quietly states, snapping you out of your reverie. “Now take yours off—wait! Wait. Leave it on. I want to imagine you wearing my shirt. Just take off your panties.”

“I’m—” It’s so damn hard to focus when you feel so ashamed just by hearing his instructions. “Okay…” Your fingers are quivering when they slide down your stomach, thumb hooking around the hem before you pull your lingerie down to the middle of your thighs.

“Lie down,” he whispers, “Prop a pillow behind your back. Are you comfortable?”

“Y-yeah, just…” You sigh, head going dizzy. “Embarrassed.”

The airy laughter that flows from his mouth is too innocent to be heard in this kind of situation. “So cute. Me too, actually. I’ve never done this before.” When his chuckles have receded, the nervousness grows vivid in his voice once again. “Do you, umm... Do you want to stop?”

You’re supposed to say yes, or at least a bit conflicted about it, so it shocks you when you immediately answer, “No,” without hesitation.

“Thank God.” Donghyuck sighs, smiling softly against the phone. “‘Cause I wouldn’t know what to do if you said yes.” He unbuckles his belt with one hand, taking it off as his heartbeat soars through the roof. “Then, umm… can you spread your legs? As wide as you can.”

You feel so exposed even when no one is looking. Following his guidance, you question, “What about you? What are you doing?”

“I’m…” Donghyuck swallows hard, looking down at the way his hand is pressing against his semi-hardness. “I’m rubbing myself over my pants.”

Fuck, you mentally groan. “Why aren’t you touching yourself directly?”

“Cause I want to wait for you.” He has his eyes closed, hand slipping under the hemline of his jeans, stroking himself over his boxer. “I want to picture you rubbing your fingers on your clit. I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

Oh my God. “Then guide me,” you plead. There’s something so irresistibly sexy about him touching himself while picturing you pleasuring yourself with your fingers. “Tell me what to do, Hyuck.”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip. The excitement of being able to act as a puppeteer, tugging on your strings, sends all blood rushing south. “Can you push your shirt up? Don’t take it off, just—” He exhales, taking a moment to collect himself after a certain obscene thought of you touching yourself entered his mind. “Just make sure it’s not in the way.”

“Okay.” You grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up until it pools above your chest. “Now, what?” 

“I want you to touch your breasts.” You’re more aroused by his breathy voice and lustful tone than embarrassed at this point. “Imagine me, Noona,” Donghyuck whispers, and he sounds so close, as if he’s lying down next to you. “Imagine me with my hands on you, caressing your breasts. Can you do that?”

You squeeze your breast, mumbling out a weak, “Yes…” The memory of Donghyuck, embracing you from behind, his naked chest pressed against your spine, hot mouth lazily pressing wet kisses against your nape suddenly comes alive in your mind. You still remember how sexy he sounded moaning out your name as he rocked his hips forward, his fingers exploring around your chest, rubbing and pinching at a certain spot to make you press closer to him in desperation for more of his touch. 

“Suck on your fingers, make them wet, then bring them back down.” Donghyuck’s hips are bucking against his hand, his fingers tugging his zipper down. “Imagine my mouth latching on your nipple, sucking it the way I always do. The way you like me to do.” 

You bring your fingers to your mouth, coating two of them with saliva before you bring them back down to pinch your sensitive bud. With your eyes closed and his heavy breathing in your ear, the wet sensation of your fingers gives you a clear image of his tongue flicking against your nub. 

“Tell me how you feel.”

“It’s not enough,” you croak out, “I want to feel you directly on my skin.”

Donghyuck takes a sharp breath. “You don’t even know how much I want to be there and touch you.” The way his voice suddenly becomes deep sends shivers down your spine. “I want to suck bruises on your skin. I want to mark you everywhere, again and again, so the bruises will last for days. I want you to remember me every time you see yourself in the mirror.”

You sheepishly smile, though your heart is still racing. “I always remember you even without that, Haechannie.”

The sudden change of his name warms his heart. “I wish you’re the only one who calls me that. You make my stage name sounds better, special. I could have thousands of people screaming my name but none of them makes me feel the way you do.” As he slides his hand under his boxer, finally making direct contact with his skin, Donghyuck becomes desperate once again. “Bring your other hand down. I want you to touch yourself, Noona, please.”

You slide your hand between your legs, tentatively rubbing yourself between your folds. “Hyuck…”

“Does it feel good?”

You nod, eyes shut, and your mind wanders. “Yes…”

“Rub your clit for me. And imagine I’m doing that with my tongue.”

You can picture him with his head between your legs so perfectly behind your closed eyelids. He has done it several times and you remember how he would always start slow, placing open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh before dipping his head down and swipe his tongue along your folds—all the while never breaking eye-contact. He would press a kiss against your clit, and lick you slowly because he’d want you to beg for it. He never directly told you but you could tell he liked being in control because the second you whispered “Please, Hyuck,” he would immediately indulge you with everything you wanted and more. 

Donghyuck would suck hard on your clit, doing it so suddenly that you’d nearly crush him by wrapping your legs too tightly around his head. Amazed and delighted by your reaction, he would break into a smile with his tongue still darting out to taste you, mouth pressing harder against your skin until he plunged his tongue inside your heat.

You moan out his name at the memory, directly to the phone.

“Fuck, baby, you sound so perfect…” Donghyuck nearly whimpers and the word baby stirs something within you as he never called you that before.

“Call me like that again…” You rub yourself harder on the spot you like the most. “Please, Hyuck…”

“Baby…” Donghyuck’s fingers are curling harder around his length, pumping himself in accordance to every gasp and moan you’re emitting. “I wish I could see you—I wish I could lock my eyes with yours as I eat you up. I want to see your face, every single expression you make—I bet you look so cute, so goddamn... erotic.”

Your hold around your phone loosens but fortunately for you, the pillow pressing against it keeps it close to your ear. “Touch yourself,” you breathily murmurs, “I want you to touch yourself too.”

“I am, baby,” Donghyuck softly moans, his fingers tightening around his length. “What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stroke yourself harder and run your thumb over your slit.” Donghyuck zealously follows, cursing under his breath at the pleasure. “And I want you to keep doing it until my name escapes your lips.”

“God, I want you.” He repeats your name over and over again, as ordered, with him stroking himself faster each time. “Noona, I want your mouth on me. I want to see you hollow your cheeks around me—like how you did to me when we were backstage, that time after the concert. You looked so pretty that night, so eager—so desperate for me—”

“Me too. I want to make you feel good too. I—” You nip at your bottom lip, feeling goosebumps creeping up your skin when he moans out your name. You’ve always loved his voice, loved it more than anything else in the world, and the sounds he makes when he’s in bed with you is the sexiest thing that even your poor mind can’t even begin to imagine. And now, focusing solely on his voice, listening to his filthy, sinful words, he’s driving you to the edge of your sanity.

“I’ve touched myself before at the thought of you,” he confesses breathlessly, “Several times, even way before we started dating.”

You’re trembling at the thought. “Haechannie—”

“You don’t know just how much—” The sound of him trying to stifle down a moan only makes you crave for him more. “—how much I wanted you back then. How much I want you now. Even during high school, I just—I wanted you—wanted to touch you—wanted—ah fuck,” a whine slipped out his lips, “Wanted to hold you so bad, to make love to you until—”

At the rustling sounds, him whimpering at his touches, and you rubbing yourself on the perfect spot, you know you won’t last long. “H-Hyuck, are you close?”

“Just a little bit more, Noona, ah—” He thrashes his head against the pillow, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows hard. “Fuck, I need to be inside you. I need to feel you clenching your walls around me.” At the memory of you gazing at him with anticipation building inside your seductive, half-lidded eyes, as you parted your legs to give him permission to ravish you the way he wanted, Donghyuck quickens the pace, thrusting vigorously into his hand. “Fuck yourself with your fingers, baby, please.”

You’re more than keen to follow, inserting one digit inside your heat with another one following soon after. You can visualize him bringing your legs in the air until they dangle over his shoulders, his hips slamming hard against yours with each thrust. “Hyuck—”

“If you were here right now,” he nearly growls, “I would fuck you so hard until you’re mewling my name against the sheets. And I won’t stop, I won’t stop even if you beg me to. I won’t stop until I’m done with you.”

Donghyuck doesn’t sound like he’s trying to dirty talk which only makes it even more arousing to your ear. It’s as if he’s losing control of his mouth, just saying anything that comes to mind. The honesty, the urgency, his breathy, desperate calls of your name between lewd words—

You choke out a sob. “Hyuck—I’m close—”

“Me too—N-noona—Kiss me—”

It’s one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever felt and it’s funny because you never really enjoyed touching yourself before. Donghyuck follows a few seconds after, moaning your name so erotically that will probably give you a hard time falling asleep for days at the thought of it. You’re left dazed, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. Your phone lays forgotten on the pillow next to you. Mustering all the strength you have left, you reach out for it. “Hyuck…?”

You can hear him breathing heavily. “I’m here,” he says. “Are you okay? Did you get to come?”

“Y-yes.” Now that it’s over, you begin to feel self-conscious again and the heat that blooms on your cheeks nearly wash every bit of your orgasm away in an instant. “Did you?”

“I made a huge mess.” He chuckles, sounding just as embarrassed as you are. “Fuck, didn’t realize it was going to be this good when we started. What would’ve happened if we had Face-Timed each other instead?”

Your head nearly explodes at the thought. “One step at a time, Hyuck. I’m practically dying from shame right now.”

He laughs a little at that. “So, you don’t really oppose the idea? Man, I have something to look forward to then.”

“Shut up, you’re gross. Is this the reason you called me?”

“No,” he hastily says, “I swear, I called because I missed hearing your voice.” Then he thinks about it again. “Well, I mean, I have been thinking about doing, uhh, these kinds of things with you but trust me, it wasn’t the reason why I called.”

“Sure,” you flatly reply, teasing him.

“Yah, yah, yah, it’s your fault for saying that you were wearing nothing but my shirt!”

“It’s your fault for asking me what I was wearing!”

It’s always like this with him. You’re bickering at one point, having sex at another time, then goes back to bickering once again. But it’s endearing, you suppose, because after this, you’ll be murmuring loving words, and just when you begin to think about it, Donghyuck whispers into the phone.

“I love you, Noona. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

And you smile. “I love you too, Haechannie. You’re the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What the hell is the first one?”

“Chicken nuggets.”

“You’re so dead.”

***

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!! 

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library. 

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table. 

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.” 

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table. 

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair. 

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes. 

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept. 

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice. 

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing. 

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant. 

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses. 

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff. 

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky. 

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip. 

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons. 

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide. 

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.  

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears. 

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies 

Olivia: :( 

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind. 

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp. 

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears. 

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body. 

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up. 

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile. 

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning. 

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee. 

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat. 

“So what are you chasing tonight?” 

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead. 

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously. 

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on. 

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return. 

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. 

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement. 

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow. 

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted. 

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed. 

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows. 

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence. 

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking. 

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued. 

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now. 

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober. 

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you. 

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night. 

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before. 

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days. 

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. 

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did. 

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own. 

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off. 

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops. 

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall. 

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside. 

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you. 

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone. 

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again. 

---

🏷: @hopebaker​ @pogueslandia​ @mardema​

[navalcriminalimagines]

Better than me

This is my very first Joel Miller x Reader work. And I completely got carried away. I may do a series, if you guys like it? Joel deserves all the love in the world 🥺Please, let me know what you think!

Summary: You live across the street from Joel. Every night, you watch him play the guitar on his porch and one night, you find the courage to go out and talk to him.

Songs: Future days ; Better than me

Warnings: Smut, oral, p in v, creampie, unprotected sex, a bit of roughness

Words count: 5k

Jackson, Wyoming

Just like every night, your neighbor Joel Miller was sitting on his porch, playing his guitar. Just like every night, you stood by your window, listening to whatever he’s playing, tonight he settled on ‘Future days’. You remembered this song from a long time ago. And just like every night, you hoped you’d find the courage to go out and talk to him.

But you never really talked to him. You crossed paths every now and then, barely exchanging two sentences. It’s way much easier to talk with Ellie, the teenager living with him. One day, you were actually talking with Ellie inside the house and when he got home, you found a stupid excuse and disappeared pretty quickly.

You haven’t been able to find the courage to talk to him. Until that night. It was 2am, and you could still hear him play. He was trying to be silent, even though that’s not really possible. You quickly checked yourself in the shitty small mirror of your bathroom and got out of your house. Joel noticed you only when you were standing right in front of him.

“Hey, Y/N. I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” he gently asked.

“Nah, don’t worry. Couldn’t sleep,” you waved off. “Thought I’d enjoy the music from closer,” you were thankfully it was dark outside, so he couldn’t see you profusely blushing.

“Take a seat,” he offered, showing off the chair next to him. “I’m not sure we’ve ever been properly introduced?” he said, after you settled next to him.

“Yeah, me neither,” you smiled. “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m from Nevada, I’ve been in Jackson for a few months and well-- what else can we say?”

He chuckled. “Fair. Joel Miller,” he said, extending his hand to you over his guitar and you shook it. “I’m from Texas. And I play the guitar,”

“Noticed. You actually have been my personal radio for the past months,”

“As long as you enjoy it. Do you play?”

“Unfortunately not. I used to play violin though,” you confessed. “Long time ago,”

“I wish I could find one, just to hear you play,”

That night, most of the conversation turned around music and instruments. You were a teenager when the virus appeared, and you were a music junkie. You didn’t know why but you confessed to Joel that your dream was to be a rockstar and tour all around the world with a band. He told you about his favorite artists back then, and how he started to play the guitar. He confessed about writing songs when the inspiration hits. Which hasn’t for a while.

The next day, you happily joined him again. This time, you talked less about music and more about yourselves. Joel told you about Ellie, how he met her and how that teenager made her way to his heart. For a moment, he considered telling you about Sarah, but what would be the point? You don’t know each other enough, and he didn’t want to look like the man stuck twenty years prior. Even if you all are, somehow. You told him about your family, that you lost a while ago and how you ended up here in Jackson.

For weeks, meeting Joel on his porch became a thing. You were there almost every night, even when there were some sorts of events in town. You enjoyed his company way more than you should and so did he. But neither of you would say so. Some nights, he didn’t even pick up his guitar, it was just you and him, right there, talking. Falling.

One night, Joel’s heart rushed into his chest as he saw you walking with a limp, up to your house. He put his guitar down and jogged to you, right before you slammed your front door. “Y/N, are you okay?” he asked, clearly worried.

“Huh, yeah, yeah. My knee didn’t appreciate today’s patrol,” you told him, motioning him to join inside your house.

“Were you attacked or something?” he asked, watching you collapsing on your couch.

“No, no, nothing like that. I’m just a klutz,” you tiredly giggled. Joel wanted to laugh too but he was still very worried. He grabbed a pillow and gently lifted your leg to put it under.

“I’ll be right back in ten minutes, okay?”

You didn’t have time to overthink. Joel left your house in a rush and true to his words, he came back ten minutes later with something in his hand. You hadn’t moved a bit, and you watched him approaching. What he had in his hands was ice. “Do you mind if I bounce back your pants?” he asked and you nodded.

Ever so gently, Joel freed your injured knee and put the ice on it. You hissed at the cold and thanked him anyway. “I’m gonna let you rest,”

You didn’t want him to leave. Not just yet. “You know, the pain will probably keep me awake for a while. I wouldn’t mind a private concert by my favorite guitarist,”

Joel chuckled at that, trying to avoid how it made his heart melt. “Fine. I’ll be right back,”

That night, Joel played ‘Future days’ over and over after you asked him to. He kept playing and singing until you fell asleep next to him.

It took a few weeks for your knee to heal, during which Joel had been nothing but an angel. He was over your house every day, checking on your knee to make sure it was properly healing. He made sure you have enough ice and he brought your meals to prevent you from going to the self. Even while being on a patrol, he found a way to have your meals being brought to you.

“Must be nice to be Joel Miller’s favorite,” Jesse joked as you opened the door. He was holding your dinner in one hand and some ice in the other. “God I wish someone would home delivered for me,”

You let your friend in, and settled back on your couch with your leg up. “I can injure your knee for you,” you offered with a grin.

“Wouldn’t work. I’m not cute enough to get Joel’s attention,”

“Shut up!”

Jesse sat next to you. “His guitar’s here. Is he living here? Oh my god, are you guys dating?”

“No! We’re just friends,” you explained. “We just share the same love of music. So, yes, he does come here and plays,”

“Wow, you really think I’m gonna buy this?” Jesse raised an eyebrow at you.

“Jesse, I swear. Nothing is happening between me and Joel,”

“But you wished,”

“Just leave already.” you retorted.

“Y/N, be careful, okay? The man is broken,”

“Yeah, so?”

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Right. Cause you surely stopped loving Dina when you found that she was a lesbian!”

“I’m just saying, Y/N.”

“Thanks for the home delivery,” you don’t want a cold to stand between you and Jesse, “If I had money, I’d tip you,” you smiled at him.

“You know, you could pay me in nature,”

While that sentence made you laugh, Joel didn’t have the same reaction. He was standing right behind Jesse, his arms crossed over his chest. Your friend didn’t see him at first, still waiting for you to say something, “Hi, Joel,” you said, embarrassed.

Jesse didn’t turn around immediately. He knew Joel would kill him if he could. “I’m just gonna go and avoid your eyes, Joel,” he said, leaving the house in a rush, his face buried deep in his shoulders.

“Good call,” Joel muttered.

“It was just a joke,” you said as soon as you heard the door closing.

“I wouldn’t be sure about that, Y/N. He was just waiting for you to say yes,” Joel was still standing with his arms crossed.

“So, what if I agreed?” you teased him, hoping it would make things move forward a little. But it didn’t.

“Do you want me to call him back? He isn’t far, yet,”

“Just come here and give me my hug, would you?”

Joel’s anger - and obvious jealousy - evaporated as soon as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He isn’t much of a hugger, but you are and you managed to make him addicted to your hugs. He loves being intoxicated by your scent, he loves how you hold him tight, he loves how your fingers always find their way to the small hair in the back of his head. And you love how he buries his head in your back, how his strong arms wrap you so perfectly, how his hands sometimes grab your clothes in a fist.

A few weeks later

Your knee was completely healed and you were back on patrols. Things were moving in Jackson and you and Joel spent less late nights together. You were missing him and he was missing you.

One night, a ball was being held. Everyone here needed that every now and then to cheer up and have some good time. Jesse, Dina and Ellie convinced you to come. You did and as predicted, you spent the entire night waiting for Joel to appear, but he never did.

You were walking back to your house around 3 in the morning. As you approached your street, you could hear the music. Instead of going home, you stopped in front of Joel’s porch. “You said you’d come,” you told him.

“I know, I shouldn’t have. Those aren’t my thing,” he apologized. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you said, lying just a little and sitting next to him. “Just disappointed. It was really nice,”

“No doubt. I’m sorry,”

“I’ll accept your apology with you show me how to play,”

Joel chuckled and handed you his guitar. Then, he moved his chair closer to yours. His chest was literally against your back, his face a few inches from yours. You tried to focus on the instrument, but he made it really hard as his hand covered yours in order to show you where to put your fingers. He started with the easiest chord, E.

As you played violin, it wasn’t completely new to you. But you’d have played dumb if needed, as long as he stayed right where he was. When E sounded good, Joel turned his face to the side to look at you. You were already staring. His lips were so close to yours, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips, from your lips to your eyes.

It was now or never. You took your shot and crashed your lips on his. Thankfully, he eagerly responded to your kiss. One of his hands moved to your neck, his beard was gently tickling your skin and he parted his lips, letting his tongue out. You happily welcomed his tongue into your mouth and moaned. The kiss was passionate and intense, Joel couldn’t get you close enough to his liking.

But eventually, he broke it off. You whined, and when you opened your eyes again, you couldn’t see it caused him physical pain to break the kiss. “Don’t you want—“ you start to say.

“I do,” he cut you off. “God, how I do,” his nose was brushing against yours, his hand still in your neck.

“Then why aren’t lips on mine anymore?” You gently nipped his bottom lip and that made him chuckle.

“Are you sure, Y/N?” He had to ask.

“Fuck, Joel. I’ve been simping over you for ages,”

“Simping?”

“Right, sorry I forgot how old you are,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m gonna show you how old I am, babygirl,” he groaned.

In a flash, Joel grabbed his guitar and your wrist. You’re actually not sure which one he was holding the softest. He put the guitar in the living room and took you to his bedroom. As soon as he kicked the door shut, he spinned you around, holding you against the door and his lips crashed on yours, roughly.

He didn’t kiss you long enough, though. He quickly drifted south, and assaulted your neck. You moaned in his hair, and you could feel the obvious bulge in his jeans against your thighs. His hands traveled under your top and you tried to palm his erection, but he immediately stopped you.

Joel grabbed your wrists into his hand and pinned them above your head. He just stared for a moment. Stared at your swollen lips, at the marks he already made in your neck and in your eyes. You were looking at him with both killing desire and love. It confused him for a brief second but he shut his brain and kissed you again.

You were desperate to touch him, undress him, feel him. But he was strongly holding your hands, all you could was grinding your center against his thigh. “So needy,” he whispered in your ear before nipping the lobe. You swallowed thickly and let out a loud moan.

“Yes, I need you Joel. Please,” you begged him. When was the last time someone beg for him?

“It’s been such a long time, I probably won’t last,” he breathed out, shamefully.

“We have a lifetime ahead of us, who cares,”

That sentence didn’t have the impact you were shooting for. In a second, you were completely free from Joel’s grip as he took a big step back. He was panting. “That’s not—“ he whispered, trying to put his thoughts into words.

“Aw baby, did you already come?” you teased him.

“That was a close call, but that’s not my point, Y/N,” you could see he was getting angry. But why? At who?

You took a step forward, your hands tenderly cupping his bearded cheeks. “Then what is your point?” you asked, genuinely concerned.

“This—is a bad idea,” Joel struggled. He leaned into your touch but frowned as he knew he couldn’t enjoy it too much. “You—you should leave,” he wrapped his hands around your wrists, forcing you to let go of his face.

“Not until you give me one good reason, Joel.” Now, you were getting angry. Hurt. Frustrated. All of that.

“You deserve better—“ he whispered. “Better than me,”

“That’s not a good—“

“That’s good enough for me. Please, Y/N.” He begged you, pain clearly written all over his face.

“You’re making a big mistake, you know that?” Joel heard your voice cracking and you had barely finished your sentence, that his thumb was softly brushing your lips.

“That’s my jam,” he sadly tried to joke.

You have no idea what happened in his mind in a brief period of time but for whatever reason, Joel wanted you to leave. He had changed his mind and you’re not the kind of person to force people. If he doesn’t want you like this, if he doesn’t want you around him, you’ll let him be.

You left his house. Leaving you both broken-hearted.

A year later

Avoiding someone in Jackson isn’t an easy task, but somehow, Joel managed to do it pretty well. He always disappeared when you showed up, no matter where it was. He managed to never stare at you from afar when you were definitely staring. The only moment you could’ve walked to him and asked for explanations was at night, as he kept playing the guitar and all of those songs you kept talking about. But he asked you to leave and never apologized. Why would you be the one to make the first move?

As Joel checked his next patrol, he noticed he’s set on a patrol with you the very next day. Completely pissed off, he bursted into Tommy’s office and slammed the door behind. He planted his fists on the desk and stared at his younger brother. “Why the hell am I teaming with Y/N for tomorrow’s patrol?” he barked.

“What’s wrong with her?” Tommy asked, genuinely curious as to why Joel was that mad.

“Nothing,” he said, raising his hands defensively. “I just don’t want to team up with her,”

“I’ll consider making some changes, if you give me a good reason,” Tommy stood up and got closer to Joel.

“I--I almost had sex with her,”

“Almost? Couldn’t get through with it, brother?” Tommy teased him.

Before answering, Joel threw himself on the worn out couch and Tommy sat on the armbar, waiting for explanations. “We were--at it. But I had to stop,” Joel admitted, growling at himself.

“Couldn’t get it up?”

“Tommy, fuck off,”

“I honestly don’t understand how in the world you couldn’t have sex with one of the most beautiful women in Jackson,”

“Cause-- she deserves better than this. Better than me,”

“Bullshit!” Tommy shouted.

“Listen, I’m an old grumpy and lonely guy--” Joel trailed off.

“Cut the crap, bro. I’ve always wondered what her deal was, since she’s turning down all the guys around, but now it makes sense. She clearly wants you,”

“She shouldn’t,”

“Don’t you think that’s on her to decide? So, please, get the hell out of my office, go on that patrol with her tomorrow and take things back where you left them,”

“You’re the worst brother ever,” Joel rolled his eyes.

“I know. I want my brother to get laid, how horrible of me,” Tommy sarcastically answered, before giving his brother a tap in his back.

The next day came way too fast for Joel.

He was late and people were pressing you to do the patrol. You took the two horses with you and walked up to his house. You knocked and let yourself in immediately, “Joel, you’re late,” you called out for him, “I know you don’t want to spend the day with me but we don’t have a choice,” you spoke loudly, not knowing where he was. As you walked to the kitchen, you saw Ellie packing her bag. “Oh, hey El!” you greeted her, hoping you weren’t blushing.

She smiled at you. “Joel’s in the bathroom. He should be down in a minute,” she told you before walking out. “He brought some coffee. Help yourself,”

“Oh, nice!”

Upstairs, Joel couldn’t decide what to wear. Why did it matter anyway? Why did he want to look...good for you? He didn’t have much clothes and all of them were used and dirty. But he settled for his green shirt, as he remembered you telling him it looked good on him. He checked his hair and beard one more time, he even checked his breath before cursing to himself. And he joined you downstairs.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee in Joel’s used mug and started to look around, waiting for him. You hadn’t been there in a year, you hadn’t even approached the porch. You missed this, you missed Joel.

A paper on the coffee table grabbed your attention. You took it in your hand and started to read what was on it, but you heard Joel’s footsteps coming down. You only had a glimpse of it

“The bed I'm lying in is getting colder

Wish I never would've said it's over

And I can't pretend

I won't think about you when I'm older

'Cause we never really had our closure

This can't be the end

I really miss your hair in my face

And the way your innocence tastes

And I think you should know this

You deserve much better than me”

You recognized Joel’s handwriting. This really sounded like a song, but no time to analyze it, as he took the paper from your hand and folded it in his back pocket. “Is that a song?” You asked.

“Really don’t want to talk about it. Let’s go,”

“Haven’t finished my coff—“ you didn’t have time to finish either your sentence or your coffee. Joel grabbed the mug from your hand and drank the rest of the brown liquor.

“There. Finished.”

“Wow, it’s gonna be a long day,” you mumbled in your teeth as you were walking out.

“What?” Joel asked from behind.

“It’s gonna be a wonderful day!” You sarcastically exclaimed.

It was indeed a long day. You and Joel barely talked, only exchanging about your ride of the day. You tried your best not to look much at him, but it was hard as he was looking this good with his green shirt. The worst was when he rolled up his sleeves, showing off his strong and veiny forearms.

On the other hand, Joel spent the entire day looking at you. Most of the time, you were riding the horse in front of him. He had a perfect view on your ass and he loved how it bounced. You were wearing an old tank top, letting him see your tattoo on your shoulder. He wanted to press his lips against your skin again. He missed you like hell.

“Are you mad at me, Y/N?” he asked, while the two of you had gone down from the horses. You turned around to face him.

“Mad?” you sounded angry but somehow, your body language and the sadness on your face said otherwise. “No, I’m just--lost. I still don’t understand, Joel.” you shrugged. There was something in your expression, on your face, that broke his heart all over again.

“I told you.” he just answered.

“Well okay, let’s say that it doesn’t make sense to me,” you corrected yourself, “We spent so much time together, and every second was amazing. Then we kissed and--you took me inside your house, you pinned me against your door, I thought it was going really well and all of the sudden, you backed off. And--and you spent the past year avoiding me, but somehow, you still play your fucking guitar on your porch, knowing that I can hear you. Hell, you spend a serious amount of time playing ‘Future days’— and what you wrote—”

You hadn’t realized you were rambling until his lips crashed into yours. Rough but tender at the same time, his beard tickled your nose. He was holding your face in his hands, making you as close as possible to him. It stayed a chaste kiss until he pulled back. “And now you’re kissing me again,” you said, a bit shaken in a beautiful way.

“I just wanted you to shut up,” he smirked.

“Please, make some sense, Joel,” you pleaded him. “Because I really don’t understand and it prevents me from moving on,” you paused, “Not that I actually want to move on,”

“You never shut up, do you?”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t stop kissing me,”

Back at your house

This past year was long forgotten when you and Joel reached your house. You locked your door behind and basically ran to your bedroom, taking him with you. You were so fast, Joel almost tripped in the stairs. Once in your bedroom, you threw him on your bed and straddled him. You were not going to let him escape this time.

You crashed your lips on his, and you kissed him feverishly. You never unbuttoned a shirt this fast in your life. Joel’s hands got under your tank top and quickly got rid of it, along with your bra. Joel cupped one of your breasts in his hand and brought his mouth to the other. He played with your nipples for a moment, while you freed him from his jeans and boxers. You stroked him a few times, feeling some precum on your fingers. Joel let out the biggest moan he ever had. It’s been so long. So fucking long, he couldn’t stand the foreplay, “I need to be inside you, sweetheart. Like, right now,” he growled.

You got off his lap just to take your pants and panties off. Joel’s eyes darken at the sight of your naked body. He could’ve come just from the sight.

You pushed his shoulders so he was completely laying on the bed. Joel felt your wetness when you started to grind your center against his hard cock. It was killing him.

“Just for my peace of mind,” he managed to say, “You’re not a virgin, are you?” he asked, his hands resting on your hips.

“Would it change something if I was?” you answered, pressing your body against his.

“Yes. I wouldn’t want to hurt you. I would take my time with you,” he gently said, planting soft kisses around your mouth.

“I’m not a virgin. It’s been a while though, does hymen grow back?”

Joel laughed at that, but his laugh quickly turned into a deep growl as you made him penetrate you. You slided onto him so slowly, it took everything in his power not to shove his length as deep as he could. You felt his fingers digging so hard on your hips, you’ll probably wake up with bruises in the morning. It’s been such a long time, it almost felt like it was indeed your first time.

As he bottomed out, Joel kissed you roughly. He’s not going to last. This is too much. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so tight,” he groaned in your ear, holding your hair in his fist.

You pulled out slowly and got him to bottom out again. You rode him with this killer pace, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He made you roll over and pinned you down onto the mattress. Again, his fingers dug into your skin, and his lips crashed on yours in a rough and sloppy kiss. Joel quickened the pace, fucking you relentlessly. He could hear you cry his name and it quickly became a blur to him. It was so much for him, he completely forgot about your pleasure and after a few quick and hard thrusts, Joel came deep inside your pussy, crying your name out loud.

This was too quick, you didn’t have time to cum too. But you didn’t mind, you knew he was going to get even. Plus, seeing him falling apart on top of you like that was the most sexy and erotic and amazing thing you ever witnessed. That image only could get you soaking wet. Pretty much like you were at this moment.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” he said, collapsing on you.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, stroking his hair and kissing his temple. He was sweaty as hell, but you loved the taste of him on your lips.

“God,” he panicked, “I came inside you,” he looked at you with wide eyes, realizing the risk it was. He should have never come inside you. This is way too risky. There are no birth controls and no condoms. He can’t do that again. The panic washed him over, but you stayed pretty calmed under him. “Why are you not freaking out? Yelling at me?”

“Is there anything we can do about it?” you asked, steady.

“Well--” he trailed off. Obviously, there’s nothing you can do about it. He came, it’s too late.

“I’ll be careful next time, I promise.” he apologized and kissed you.

Once the panic disappeared, Joel remembered that you didn’t come. He got carried away by his own pleasure, he completely forgot about yours. “Don’t move,” he ordered you and made a trail of wet kisses down to your core. You moaned when his lips reached your clit and he smirked. He licked and sucked on your clit for a moment, one of his arms around your waist to keep you still. When he felt your hand running through his hair, and your nails digging on his scalp, he moaned himself. “Fuck, you’re tasting yourself,” you breathed out.

“I couldn’t care less.” he muttered.

As he kept eating like a starving man, Joel surprised you with a thick finger entering your core. “Jesus, Joel! Yes!” you cried and he didn’t waste time adding another finger. His fingers were curling inside you, hitting exactly where they were supposed and he remained sucking hard on your clit. “Just like that, yes! Fuck!” he felt your body shaking under him and his free hand immediately rushed to your breasts, pinching your nipples between his thumb and index. He didn’t stop, not even slowed down until you came hard on his face, crying his name so loud, all Jackson probably heard you.

As you were catching your breath, Joel got back on top of you and wrapped an arm around your neck. He held you so tight, you almost couldn't breathe but you loved every second of it. You were surprised by his length teasing your oversensitive entrance, “I’ve never recovered this fast in my life.” he growled in your ear. “Can I?” he asked for your consent, gently kissing your temple.

“Yes please! Give it to me, baby. Fuck me!”

That was all he needed. He didn’t need his hand to slide inside of you again. In one thrust, he bottomed out and cursed. “You were made for me,” he said, huskily, before kissing you, all teeth and tongue.

As he thrusted hard and deep inside your pussy, you grabbed his ass and squeezed. He chuckled against your mouth and quickened his pace. He fucked you relentlessly again but this time, he took his time. There was less urge, he was thinking about your pleasure too.

He finally let go of your neck, and got on his knees, lifting your hips a little. Your ass was resting on his thighs as he kept thrusting. That angle drove both of you crazy. While one of his hands was holding your hips hard, he furiously rubbed your clit with the other. He could feel you're losing it. “I’m gonna cum, baby,” you told him. “Fuck, you feel so good!” you cried his name again, coming and creaming on his cock.

“God, I’ll never get used to that sight,” Seeing you losing it under his touch sent him over the edge. He managed to withdraw just in time to come on your stomach, he didn’t even have to give himself a few final strokes.

He collapsed on top of you again, not caring about the sticky mess between your bodies. “You’ll be the death of me, Y/N,” he said and you chuckled.

“I love you, Joel. There’s no better than you,”

[shemarmooresfedora]

Collision Course

Summary: You and Spencer were just bound to collide. Only fate could plan a first meeting that unique.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: fluff, minor car crash (no serious injuries), swearing, sexual harassment (specifically cat-calling from a stranger), mentions of eating a lot of food, implied allusion to sex (not specifically stated)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: this is my one-shot entry for @ellesgreenaway ‘s 1k follower celebration! congratulations! <3 i’ve had this fic in my drive for a while but i never got around to finishing it until now

Masterlist

The metro was down for scheduled repairs today. JJ offered to bring Spencer in but he politely declined. He figured he should drive his car at least every once and a while so it doesn’t just collect rust in his parking spot.

Leaving his apartment 15 minutes earlier than he normally would to account for his rather slow driving, Spencer cautiously reversed out of his space.

He sighed in relief that he had not hit the neighboring cars. Spencer began to pull out of the parking garage. Unfortunately, he was so relieved from his little victory that he forgot to check both ways when he drove out of the parking garage.

Spencer slammed on the brakes but it was too late. He hit a young woman jogging and knocked her to the ground. Luckily, his average speed was that of a snail so he hoped her injuries were not too bad.

Spencer put the car in park and got out, “Oh god, oh god, oh god. Are you okay, miss?”

“I think so,” you were on the ground, assessing your body for any damage.

“Can you stand?” Spencer extended his hand to help you up.

You carefully stood, wincing a little when you put pressure on your left ankle.

“Is there anyone I can call? Do you want me to drive you to the ER?” Spencer frantically asked.

Your eyes widened, “No!” you stated a little too loudly, “Um I mean no thank you. I should finish my run anyways. I have a 5k for Alzheimer’s research coming up and I need to run or else I don’t raise any money,” you politely waved and took off again, much slower this time.

Spencer cringed as he watched you limp slightly every time you stepped on your left ankle, knowing it was his fault you were in pain. He sighed and pulled out his phone.

“Hey JJ, have you left yet? I need a ride, I’ll explain in the car.”

-

“Pretty Boy, how was your drive in?” Derek asked as soon as Spencer stepped off the elevator with JJ.

“I got about 20 feet and then hit someone with my car and had to call JJ so not great,” he admitted.

“Boy Wonder, you did WHAT? Are they okay?” Penelope gasped.

“She insisted she was fine but then she was limping away. I offered her a ride but she didn’t seem too keen on getting in a car with me,” Spencer explained.

“I wonder why,” Emily chuckled.

-

So there Spencer was. In the park in his only pair of short athletic shorts and a hoodie.

He had asked Penelope to sign him up for the 5k as a way to sort of make it up to the woman he hit. Plus, obviously it was for a good cause that was near and dear to his heart because of his mother.

Spencer had to take a lot of water breaks, periodically stopping to walk for a bit.

In the distance, he saw you on a bench and he suddenly felt the energy again to continue running to you. As he approached, he saw you tightening an ankle brace around your left foot and to make matters worse, you had a wrist brace as well.

Spencer considered just leaving you alone but he felt the need to apologize.

“H-Hello,” he awkwardly sputtered.

“Oh, hi,” you replied.

“I am so so sorry. Please let me pay your medical bills and any other expenses that I caused,” Spencer apologized.

“Unless you meant to hit me then it’s fine,” you stood from the bench.

“I definitely didn’t and I wasn’t on my phone or anything like that. I just barely ever drive but the metro was down today,” Spencer explained.

“You don’t have to pay my medical bills. I’m friends with a nurse so she did this for free. However, I would allow you to sponsor me for the 5k,” you answered.

“Absolutely,” Spencer nodded, “And funny story, you inspired me to register as well. I got everyone in my office to sponsor me.”

“That’s so great! The money is certainly going to a good cause.”

Spencer saw you smile for the first time since he met you.

“I’ve never been much of an athlete though. I barely passed my fitness test for work,” Spencer admitted.

“What kind of job has a fitness test?” you asked.

“I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI,” Spencer stated.

“Oh shit, you’re a federal agent? Maybe I will sue you and make bank,” you grinned.

Spencer’s face reddened.

“It was just a joke. You can laugh, then that means the incident is in the past and no hard feelings,” you smiled, “I’m Y/N.”

“Spencer.”

“Well, Spencer, if you ever need a running buddy, I’m more than happy to come along seeing as we both are training for the same thing. But I do have to warn you, this brace is kind of a bitch so I’m a little slower than normal.”

“I can assure you that you will probably still be faster than me with the brace on so maybe it was a good thing for me that I hit you with my car so you won’t be miles ahead,” Spencer grinned.

You laughed wholeheartedly, “See, Spencer! I’m laughing about it so no hard feelings, all is forgiven.”

“I’m just finishing up for the day but I was planning on being here again on Wednesday at the same time if you want to meet at this bench,” you offered.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Spencer nodded.

“See you around, Spencer. Hopefully not in your car though,” you winked and waved.

-

“Oh god, you’ve fallen in love with the chick you almost killed,” Derek groaned.

“Not love...well, yet anyways. She’s so pretty and easy to talk to and isn’t mean to me after everything that has happened and her laugh is like honey,” Spencer smiled softly, recalling the sound in his mind.

“Okay, lover boy,” Penelope giggled, “Did you get her number?”

“No but we’re meeting for a run tomorrow. We actually met at the park when I was training,” Spencer said.

“So she’s seen you in those short shorts and agreed to another meeting? Maybe you do have a chance, kid, cause you really put it all out there,” Derek smirked.

“Speaking of, I actually need to get more of them,” Spencer sipped his coffee.

“Just go all the way and get spandex. Leave nothing to the imagination,” Derek chuckled as Spencer rolled his eyes.

-

“Jesus, I’m going to have to hit your right leg this time if I’m going to have any chance of keeping up with you,” Spencer huffed as he bent over his knees to catch his breath.

“Well good news is that was four miles so you definitely will be able to run a 5k because it’s only 3.1 miles,” you encouraged him.

“Technically, it’s 3.10686 miles but I see your point,” Spencer heaved.

“I know a really good smoothie place nearby. Come on, it’s on me,” you grabbed his hand.

Luckily, Spencer’s face was already red from exercising so you weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks.

“No, it’s definitely on me. I know you said we’re fine but I am forever going to be indebted to you because of the incident.”

“Spencer, really just forget about it,” you assured him.

“I can’t, I have an eidetic memory,” he grinned.

“Ah, I see. Fine, you buy me one smoothie but then we’re even,” you conceded.

You were walking down the street to the cafe when you heard a whistle come from one of the cars driving by.

“Damn, your ass is looking sexy in those leggings,” a man hollered from his passing truck.

You flipped him off and tried to pull your shirt down as much as possible, crossing your arms tightly around your front.

Spencer unzipped his hoodie and extended it towards you, “Sorry, it’s a little sweaty but if you want to wear it, you can.”

You smiled softly and accepted the sweatshirt, feeling more comfortable now.

“I’ve got his license plate number memorized and I intend to file a police report. Unfortunately, reports like these usually don’t go very far but I’ll keep pushing it through. I’ll also call the company that was printed on the side of the truck and ask to speak to his supervisor,” Spencer spoke softly after a few minutes.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you leaned your head on his shoulder and sighed.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just doing what’s right. He had no right to make comments about your body,” Spencer said, wrapping a gentle arm around your upper waist.

-

“Welcome to Y/N’s carbo-loading extravaganza!” you opened the door of your apartment to let Spencer in.

“I brought dessert as requested,” Spencer held up a chocolate cake.

“I like how you think, Spencer. Dinner’s all ready,” you smiled.

“Spaghetti, meatballs, and crispy buttery garlic bread,” you pulled the bread out of the oven.

“Looks absolutely delicious,” he complimented.

“Eating carbohydrates before a race boosts the glycogen storage in your muscles allowing you to work out longer,” Spencer informed you.

“Interesting, I never knew the science behind it but I’m never going to complain about eating tons of pasta and bread,” you twirled some pasta on to your fork.

Halfway through the meal, Spencer accidentally got a sauce stain on his pale pink shirt.

“Oh no,” you said as he tried to dab it away.

“That needs to soak right away. I don’t want any casualties at the carbo-loading extravaganza. Give it to me to scrub and I’ll get you another shirt.”

Spencer unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off. You gulped at the sight of him shirtless, grabbing the shirt and heading to your bathroom sink to scrub it with laundry detergent.

“You can just grab any t-shirt from my room that you think will fit,” you called out to him.

Spencer settled on a light gray shirt with a golden retriever on the front.

“Okay, the stain is out! It’s just soaking now-“ you immediately stopped talking as soon as you saw the shirt Spencer was wearing.

He noticed your eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, “I’m so sorry. I can pick a different shirt,” Spencer was already beginning to pull it over the top of his head.

“No it’s fine, Spencer. That’s just my grandma’s t-shirt. I forgot I even had it.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he spoke guiltily.

“You didn’t know, besides it looks good on you anyways,” you smiled, “My grandma is the whole reason I’m running the 5k.”

“My mom has Alzheimer’s too so I understand that it’s extremely hard to watch a loved one go through that,” Spencer pulled you in for a hug.

You cried into his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

After Spencer hadn’t heard any sniffles in a while, he whispered, “Do you have any tea I can make you?”

You nodded and Spencer guided you to the couch, wrapping you in a blanket before turning the kettle on.

-

Spencer answered the cheerful knocking at his front door early in the morning.

“Race day! Are you ready?” you exclaimed.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Spencer smiled.

“I promise we are sticking together the whole time because it doesn’t matter how long it takes us as long as we finish,” you held up your pinky.

“Together,” Spencer affirmed, locking his pinky with yours.

The starting line in the park was only a short distance away from Spencer’s apartment so you and Spencer decided to walk there as a little warm-up.

You and Spencer were doing quad stretches when you saw his eyes wander to something behind you and then widen. His face immediately reddening.

“What?” you asked, turning around to see a group of people with a sign that read ‘Go Spencer and his girlfriend!’

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect them to do that,” Spencer stammered.

The poor boy was so flustered so you decided to take it easy on him.

“I don’t mind,” you shrugged with a slight smile.

“You don’t?” Spencer clarified, “I’m not very good with words or flirting in general but I would like to see you again after the race is over. Maybe I could take you out to dinner?”

“Yes but my only condition is...I’m driving,” you smirked.

“Oh, you’ll pay for that,” Spencer grinned.

An air horn sounded, signaling the start of the race.

“I think you’re going to have to catch me first, Dr. Reid,” you giggled as you sprinted ahead.

-

“It’s in sight, Spencer! We can do this!” you pointed to the finish line in the distance.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to carry me. I can’t,” Spencer heaved.

“If you finish this race, I will…” you cupped your hand to his ear and whispered something.

Spencer immediately perked up and started running again.

“Hey, wait up!” you laughed.

You and Spencer crossed the finish line at the same time. Spencer’s legs immediately gave out which caused you to fall too, collapsing on top of him.

“I know I’m really sweaty and gross right now but can I please kiss you?” Spencer whispered.

Your lips were pressed on his as soon as he finished his sentence. You honestly didn’t know how long you had been kissing for but you didn’t look up until you heard one of the race officials shout, “Hey lovebirds! That’s very sweet but other people are trying to cross the finish line.”

“Sorry!” you and Spencer apologized, scrambling to your feet.

“Not really,” Spencer whispered to you and you jabbed him in the side with your elbow playfully, stifling a laugh.

what slightly inspired this fic is one time @samuel-de-champagne-problems commented on one of my posts “i could never stay mad at spencer” and then i thought to myself “same. i couldn’t stay mad at him even if he hit me with his car” and now here we are... 🚙

taglist: (just ask to be added or removed!): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana @hoodpankow @mochionly

[hazzasgayvodka]

Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta 

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger. 

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

 ***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

 ***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

[mskimkaty]

URS| J.JH

Fluff, smut

wc: 5k

synopsis: One thing led to another, and you didn’t meant to fuck up, majorly.

warnings: smut, smut with plot, unprotected sex, manhandling, swearing. 

"Come on. I promise you it will be fun." You rolled your eyes for god knows how many times as you scan through your biology book. You have an essay due tomorrow and you're idiotic of a brother is asking you to come party tomorrow Friday night.

"Oppa, Really. I have so many papers piling up, and I can't afford to slack off. Ask Taeyong or Johnny Oppa or someone! I know for a fact that you have tons of friends, why are you bothering me?" You brush the strands that poke on your forehead and continued with what you're doing, you're one blunt girl but your brother isn't having any of it today. You heard your Doyoung lets out a sigh and you almost dance in victory assuming that he's gonna kiss your head goodbye and let you have the peace you deserve.

"They are going! Don't you want to come? Everyone's coming including your friends." He pleaded once more and your eyes instantly shoot up at him.

Did they just bail on you on a Friday night? You asked yourself— Maybe, They did.

You continued typing on your laptop while scanning the book placed on your right side. "I don't know, Oppa. I have tons to do. But I'll let you k— fine! I'll come! Okay!" You surrender once You saw that he won't back down from talking and You just need your own sweet peaceful time back. Finally, Doyoung kisses the side of your head "It's a deal, Here is your fav, caramel macchiato," He hands you the drink with a shit-grinning smile that makes him a look like a bunny beading you goodbye before reminding you that's it's a settled deal.

Seriously, he won't last a second with you once he spots his brothers from his damn frat house. You decided to call Seulgi and ask if they really are coming and that imbecile brother of yours, practically lied to your face without blinking. But since it's a Friday night, Seulgi decides to ask the others to come.

On Friday night, the others basically made you a living doll, pampering you here and there, applying cosmetics, and choosing an outfit for you.

"You can't do that, Sooyoung-ah! Y/N's very conservative in that area!" Joohyun shouted at Sooyoung for choosing a black off-shoulder that clings on your shapes like a second skin and deeps lowly in your chest area, the material is thick enough to keep you from the cold air but it leaves you with bare shoulders—still, you don't think it's a good idea, It was already getting cold. "Yeah, that's my main purpose. She has the biggest boobs in this room, why not be proud and parade it? Yah, don't be embarrassed by God's gift, a lot of women want big boobs, especially someone like yours, It's not small but it's not that big to look awkward either, plus, women pay loads of money to have that kind of boobs," She stated.

"I can't believe we're talking about my body parts," you muster all the courage not to punch this Unnie for blabbing nonsense but everyone agreed, either way. "Please don't let me wear that," You begged, already hating the idea. "Unnie, that's too low, just one accidental pull and-" you were cut off from talking when Wendy smirks at you. "Who's going to pull your top? Unless if you're going to have a productive night and let someone pull it down, then yes, definitely. You're going to parade your boobs,"

She's in the fashion department together with Sooyoung and nothing or no one is stopping the two of them when it comes to deciding someone's attire and their opinions are always validated especially when it comes to clothes.

"You gotta be kidding me!" You move out of Sooyoung's hold when Seulgi showed you a nipple tape. "Yah! Kim Y/n! stop acting like a Goddamn pre-schooler and use this already!" Sooyoung Shouted grabbing your arms again and caging you using her arms around your neck.

Fuck your life.

Fuck growing up as a conservative chick, it was hard when you grew up with two older brothers, basically growing up wearing varsity shorts and not the colorful skirts like a normal girl would do. You did go with that off-shoulder top pairing it with a white tennis skirt. Totally parading your cleavage and shoulders not to mention the lack of shorts for protection under your skirt making you want to turn back and walk your way out of this goddamn house. "Hey, look guys I have big boobs." Written in your forehead. Seriously, they won't let you live a peaceful life.

Upon arriving at your brother's frat house, you heard someone whistle "If it isn't our baby Y/n!" Yuta hollered when they spotted Sooyoung and you walking in the foyer towards the inside of the house. It was already packed, empty vodka and beer bottles are already scattered at the side of the kitchen, there was a huge container at the center island that contains different kinds of beers placed in a stack of ice cubes. Your mouth watered. You wouldn't mind a good cold beer.

"Cut it out Yuta, She's not a baby anymore," Seulgi retorted already chugging her second bottle down her throat "I know! It's just that it's my first time seeing her with a skirt and not her brother's pants on." Yuta received dirty glances from the others and a hard punch from Jungwoo who hugged you— his baby sister protectively. You felt Jungwoo's knuckles hit you on your head and you pout your lip at him, "Yah, what are you wearing?" he asks you,

"I know I look ridiculous," you say as you rolled your eyes at him. Jungwoo doesn't think that you looked ridiculous, it's just that, he wasn't used to seeing you wearing girl clothes and not the usual ones where he and Doyoung don't need to protect you from prying eyes around.

"Fuck you, That's my sister you're talking about." Doyoung gives him a playful nudge and Yuta only smiles wickedly like a perverted mad man, you were used to him, though. He was just being himself and teasing you. You were thankful, for hyping you up, so you felt a little confident as you grab for a beer after Donghyuck gives you your first shot of tequila for the night, your throat instantly heats up as you take the liquid in, the night is long.

"Yeah, I'll remember this you fucking moron," you joked, probably ignoring him for the rest of the evening, jokingly. "So this is the famous Phi kappa house," Wendy says looking around, spotting Eunwoo in the process from the living room walking towards your group with Jaehyun in tow, walking behind him while holding a beer in his hand and his phone in the other.

You actually don't know him that very well since you're still a freshman, and you just heard he's from the Architecture department, one of your brother's new frat brothers, Sooyoung mounted that Jaehyun was in an exchange program and was originally from the states, you see him for a few times around campus but that was that. You never greeted each other, unlike the others, or even acknowledge one another.

You scan the living room where everyone is getting wasted from every corner of the house. "Where's Johnny by the way?" Irene asked no one in particular scanning the area. "Getting laid," Eunwoo said pulling Wendy to sit on his lap. There was a brief emotion in her eyes that you can't decipher but you ignore it anyway.

"But Mark said he's with him, though?" Seulgi commented while Eunwoo only shrugged. Yuta and Donghyuck handed each one of you your drinks. Another strong scent of vodka makes it way up to your nostrils, your head spins just by smelling it, Sooyoung grimace at the smell, "This is basically; Vodka with a drop of juice in it."

"Watch out, Noona. The Juice is probably for color only." He whispers and she winces more. "Who the fuck even mixed this?" She asks as she took a sip at her drink. Jaehyun laughs at her.

"Jung fucking Jaehyun!! you little shit," She hollered. "Sorry, Noona." he winks at her and you watch the both of them in the sides. You wished socializing was that easy. You hate how awkward you get sometimes.

"Y/n's not good at drinking." You heard your older brother says and you look at him. "It's fine, let the girl cut some slack besides we have tons of people in the group to take care of her later," Johnny says after suddenly appearing at your side with Mark hugging you. "My favorite human being- Girl, What the fuck are you wearing?!" Mark's hands stayed on your waist and Jungwoo watched as Jaehyun's eyes linger on where Mark's hands was placed around you, he only smiled wickedly as he watches his Hyung chug on his bear problematically.

You gather the courage to drink the vodka in just one gulp. The strong taste leaving a trace in your mouth down your throat. It leaves a cool sensation but at the same time drawing a burning line down your throat. You accidentally made a weird sound and you sounded like a drowning piranha. The others only looked at each other and then bursting out laughing after registering the weird sound you made. Donghyuck hugged you after shouting "My Noona, so cute!!" at the top of his lungs while hugging you tightly.

The night went by, the sound booming in the house as you jam to it in the corner with Jungwoo, Mark, and Donghyuck, Jaehyun tagging along. Sipping in your vodka now and then.

"I'm going out, it's too suffocating in here," I blurted clumsily. As I start to walk, you felt Mark's hands in your arms. "Why?" you asked.

"You're drunk. You don't really think I will let you go on your own. In a party- looking like that." Mark says protectively. "Come with me then." You asked. Mark looked in front feeling conflicted, you followed his gaze and you saw him eyeing a girl who was basically eye-fucking him in return. "Suit yourself." You turn to Donghyuck who were busily conversing with another girl in the side. "I can't believe you choose to get your dick wet first rather than keeping your best friend company." you turn to Jaehyun who was looking at you. "I'll come with you, I was thinking of getting a smoke either way," Jungwoo says.

You clumsily withdraw from Mark's grip. "Fine, I'll take my boring of a brother with me then." Mark nodded seemingly unaffected and Jaehyun only laughs at him as he shakes his head.

You decided to hang in the garden area. "Wait- hey," you turned to face him "Just a minute," Jaehyun leaves his bottle behind before grabbing his leather jacket. You stop mid-sentence a big what the hell is written on your face. "You're not my brother. Where the hell is my brother?" you asked your eyes unfocused. Jaehyun put his jacket on, his bubbly facade was completely gone as he turns to you.

"Well, for starters, you drag me here," Jung Jaehyun says "Oh- my bad. You can go back if you'd like." you sit on one of the chairs in the garden. Closing your eyes in the process waiting for him to walk away but you hear the clang of metal and a chair being dragged instead. You opened your eyes knowingly. Jaehyun, sitting in front of you.

"Well, fresh air isn't that bad, either," like you, Jaehyun closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the silence with the soft bass booming in the background "But it's your party, you should go back, Oppa." you watch him for a second but decides to close your eyes again, the fatigue drowning into your body suddenly, hearing you call him that does wonders inside of him, you honestly don't mind calling him that even though you both weren't in terms to have that kind of relationship yet but you consider all your brother's friends who are much older than you a close friend already.

Jaehyun was wearing his usual black t-shirt with his denim ripped jeans, with his white clean snickers making a sound as he tapped on the floor probably jamming to the music from the house. He always wears black shirts, If not black you sometimes see him wearing white, he was so basic when it comes to his clothes but still looks good that it's maddening. Not that you're checking him out on a daily basis, you had eyes, and you always see him everywhere.

"It's my house, but not my party." He says as you continued drinking from the cup you were holding, you tried offering him the cup you were holding and he reached out for it, you watched the way his Adam's apple move in fascination.

You blinked the thoughts away. The drink making you feel hot, "So why did you transfer here?" you tried making small talks just to ignore the unwanted thoughts about him. He smiled and cocks his head to the side, his smile becoming faint as he stares at your drunken state. you can barely keep your eyes open but still sip from the same cup the both of you were sharing.

"Okay, that's enough." He blurted messily. Even he can't form the right words to say. "Enough with the drinking." He added.

"Are you trying to babysit me?" you asked. Dumbfounded. You laughed at the idea. "You haven't answered my question, though." you sit with your legs crossed and you put your forearms on your knees leaning closer to him, Jaehyun sees the deep in your top, your cleavage showing more than intended, skin glistening under the lights, he moved his eyes away from your form, mentally cursing.

"I just needed the scholarship and the University offered one so I took it." He says, that made you confused for a second, "I thought your family is loaded?" you asked. "Were comfortable," he answered you. Disbelief was written on your face "Isn't that what super-rich Asian kids answer with that type of questions?" he laughs at you. "Both my sisters are also a scholar back at home, I had to be a little competitive, it runs in the family."

Damn.

"They do?" you asked. He shifted his gaze everywhere but you. For some reason you wanted his attention on you, there was a sudden change in his demeanor as the mood between the both of you change,  "You're making this hard for me." He says with finality. You tilt Your head to the side. "Then, aren't you going to do something about it ?" you asked laughing. You stood up walking back to the house. He's head moving as his eyes study every move you make, you back up and turn to face him,

"Y/n, I don’t do one night stand,"  He blurted his lips forming a tight line after, Jaehyun walks to you, grabbing you by the waist, you grab at the back of his neck, taking your time and looking at his lips with the same want he gives. "Then, this is our day one."  you say your last words before pulling him for a kiss.

Kissing Jaehyun felt- wet, You felt his arms circle your waist as he hoists you up to cradle him, making you break the kiss. "Won’t you regret this in the morning?" He manages to ask before you dig to taste his lips again. "I still think you’re drunk and will probably regret this in the morning,” He blurted out, you pulled him again lips meeting, “But oppa, that’s not the problem right now, and I really think we should think about that tomorrow.” you convinced him, Jaehyun was having the last bit of patience and he just want to take you to his room and fuck your brain senseless.

This kind of confidence is new to you, though, this wasn't your first time getting laid, it wasn't like you do this normally, either. You still remembered your first time, it was during your senior year, there was this one guy who acts like he swept you off of your feet but doesn't even last 5 minutes into the sex, his dick wasn't small per se, but it wasn't that big either, though, you can't really tell, it's not like you have seen lots of different male sex to compare, you remember it had hurt, and just, hurt in general. He sucked at sex and only minded his own release, penetrating you without getting you wet first. Your mind came back to Jaehyun when he sucks at the skin below your right ear and you shivered at the pleasure. You don't even understand the logic of you kissing Jung Jaehyun when you're not that close. What would Doyoung and Jungwoo think? or how would they even react? "What are you thinking?" Jaehyun broke the kiss once again, feeling that you're somehow distracted. His thumb draws small circles at the inside of your thighs and you cling to him as he walks through the back door to the basement of the house where it was exclusive for the members only. and I'm kissing him.  

Once inside, he put you down, "Just thinking of my brothers," you answered. "Please don't tell me you're going to back out and leave me hot and bothered."

"Of course not." you pull him back down and attached your lips to his, Jaehyun broke the kiss once again and lead you to the stairs up to his room, the lack of people made you look at him questioningly but he just pulls at your hand, Jaehyun opened the door to his room, shoving you against it and kissing you desperately. You moaned at the pain shooting at your back, something flashed in his eyes; realizing how manhandling affects you.

He broke the kiss and study your reaction. "You can't keep doing this to me." He manages to say. You were so ready and wet for him, and he's not even doing anything to you besides kissing you. Jaehyun lowered his head on your neck just where your weak spot is and a soft moan escape from your lips.

You pushed him back as you kiss him, backing up until the both of you fell to the mattress of his bed with you straddling him. Tonight was supposed to be just a normal girl's night out. But, here you are making out with Jung Jaehyun, both of your brother's best mate.

You are so fucked up.

Jaehyun lowered his head and attached his lips to your neck, lapping on it just where your weak spot is as a soft moan escapes from your lips. Jaehyun, he can't even control his urges at this point anymore, seems like keeping his hands off of you would be a problem in the future, the heat in his lower body was already rising as he kissed your slightly parted lips. Your body was a victim of him, your sight getting blurry at the intensity of his kisses. Jaehyun run little kisses down your skin, removing your top in one go, as much as he thinks you look fucking good on it, he wants nothing to do with it.

Jaehyun's breath hitched when he saw your bare chest. You mentally pat your head for going against the nipple tape, it would be fucking embarrassing to get rid of it in this situation. He grabs your breast causing you to flinch, a sigh-like moan escaping your lips, His fingers painlessly kneaded the mounds of your breasts, distorting them erotically in his palm.

Jaehyun find your scent sweet, he was marking you inside his head,

Mine,

He was hooked with intense possessiveness and desire, palming you through your undies, making you ark your back against the bed and rubbing your heat against his hands for much better friction, you were so, so close. The heat in your core being unbearable.

"You keep surprising me with how dirty you are," he murmured against your ears when he realized you were  just wearing your undies without a protective shorts. Jaehyun played with the hem of your panties before ripping them off you. "Let's keep the skirt, I want to fuck you in it."

"You're fucking unbelievable, Oppa. What am I going to wear later?" you ask while heaving, waiting for his next move that he'll do. Jaehyun took one breast into his mouth and sucked on it, his tongue lapped around your stiff bud, biting it lightly before repeating, something hot flowed from your already wet core, making the two of you stop at your ministration, "fuck, fuck, fuck." you chant like a mantra.

Jaehyun couldn't believe that you're coming just from that. Your body was so responsive that the idea got him rock hard in instant. You turn away when Jaehyun strips from his clothes, embarrassed to see him naked so suddenly, his cock springing up, your mouth watering at the sight, Jaehyun grabs at your ankles when you come down from your high, you turning limp but doesn't protest, spreading you apart and positioning his self between your legs. Then, an overwhelming force suddenly pierced through you in one go, moaning at the delicious stretch you felt with being filled by his cock.

You were a moaning mess by now, Your pupils dilated, choosing to breathe as Jaehyun rams at you anomalistically, you felt dizzy by the sudden intense pleasure of being overstimulated, your sensitive walls squeezed tight as if rejecting him,

Jaehyun growled against your skin, "Fuck, baby, loosen up, You're too tight."

One more thrust and Jaehyun already got you spasming around him, Jaehyun grunted lowly. "How obscene, I just put it in and your body likes it so much." your face heat up in embarrassment, body tightening on him causing him to let out a suppressed groan as he comes undone inside you.

You smirk at him, watching his expression as you flex your thighs around him, prolonging his orgasm, his eyes trembled holding down your forearm above your head, "You like it, Oppa?" you asked smugly at him, tired, and being over-stimulated also by him. "How fun," you wrapped your legs around his waist and tightly squeezed where your lower abdomens met.

"Y/n," He growled, seeing your eyes sparkling with mischievousness, Jaehyun's lips curved oddly, deciding to play the game you were playing, he smirked and grab at your thighs, pulling them apart, he pulled out and rammed back inside, hard. You screamed at the pleasure, you know it was the beginning of a fierce-long night of sex that's seemed to never end. Jaehyun's hard erect cock penetrating endlessly through you, tormenting at the same time pleasuring you.

you screamed against him, forgetting the party going downstairs and ignoring the phone chiming down the floor with all the worried text messages from your brothers and Unnies. Halfway through, the two of you lost your senses with how good the fuck is, you falling asleep as fatigue runs through your body after Jaehyun manages to pull four more orgasms in you.

Rays of the sun coming from the outside sipping through the curtained window were hot against your skin, making you come to your senses. You look at the unfamiliar vicinity, every piece of furniture was unfamiliar to you. A big flat-screen television hangs on the wall in front of the bed. You look down to see your clothes lying together with an unknown shirt and pants on the ground.

You moved slightly. Groaning because of the pain you felt. Horror strikes your face when you registered that someone's arm was draped in your bare stomach.

Holy fucking shit

You lifted your head to see someone sleeping beside you. A mop of brown hair greeted you, thinking hard to remember the past events of last night. Flashbacks of last night start to flood in your memory and you mentally slap your face. You wanted to scream your heart out in pure panic and stupidity but that wouldn't be a nice idea. Instead, you slowly lift his arm, got out of the bed, and pick your clothes up, Horrified at your ripped undies.

you ran to the bathroom as quietly as possible. Turning the faucet on as you see your reflection in the mirror. Red marks were all over your neck and chest. What the hell did you do last night? No, why did you do that last night?!

You quickly get dressed. You need to get the hell out of here before he wakes up and asks you questions even you don't know how to answer yourself, worst being rejected straight up and be doomed for the rest of your college life.

You left. Hopefully, without leaving any traces behind. When you got home Wendy was watching the television. Upon entering, she bombards you with questions, asking why you can't be contacted only then you remembered you don't have your phone with you. fuck, way to go on not leaving any traces behind. You borrowed her phone and tried to dial your number.

"Hello?" a man's voice answered the call and you instantly cut the call off. You know it's him. How can you forget the voice of the man screaming your name against your eras last night?

You change into more comfortable clothes after taking a long cold shower, if only you can remove every trace of what happened last night, the evidence is all over your body. It's already 3 in the afternoon, your headache isn't helping with the situation, and you self-pity yourself in your room.

You cried because of your stupidity. Goddamn that alcohol, You swear to never drink again. You heard a knock on your door. Wendy's head pocking from outside. "Can I come inside?" you manage to say a small yes.

"What happened to you?" She asked. You tried to form a suitable lie inside your head but Wendy bit you to it. "The last time I saw you last night was when you were dragging Jaehyun outside and you two never come back inside, again."

in fact, you did, using the back door.

You know you can easily dodge the question but Instead, the guilt it you out of humiliation. "Unnie, can we not talk about this?" you cried. Wendy left after consulting you once more, you were grateful that she didn't push you to talk about it.

The nect day, Jungwoo visited your apartment handing you, your phone back. "Jaehyun Hyung give this to me, says it was yours." you waited for him to ask you questions about your whereabouts but he didn't, still he didn’t let the opportunity slide to make fun of you and Jaehyun.

On Monday you were at a café near the University's entrance when you felt someone sit next to you, you look up from your book to see who it was and after hours and hours of hiding from that person; here he is sitting next to you.

He dared not to look at you, voluntarily pack your things, ready to escape when you heard him say "You know we need to talk things through." you looked at him in horror. Why can't he just let this slide? why does he care so much? I've been ignoring his calls, He probably put his contact number on your phone before Jungwoo came and returned it to you.

"Can we just pretend that it never happened?" you blurted. "That was a one-night thing. We were both drunk. Can't you just let it be? Just thank me for it. I won't add from all the girls you banged and probably want's your support or want something from you." you harshly retort.

"What?" he asked you frowning, both of you looked at each other before he breaks contact and looks away. instantly turning a bright shade of pink. "Just, forget it." you blurted and walk off.

You vented all your anger in your classes, putting all your focus on every subject, by the time you were done with your last subject, you spotted Jung Jaehyun outside your class waiting, both hands in his jean pockets, his hair looks like he'd been running his fingers on it all day, his white t-shirt was clinging to his body, his orange ID lace tells him from the architect department.

You lowered your head, hugging your books closer in your chest, trying your best to walk past him without him seeing you. "Y/n." warm hands grab your left arm, you jolted from his touch as if you were electrified. You reacted by moving away from him, giving him more space than you intended, Jaehyun on the other hand looks angry. This reaction made him think that you were disgusted with what happened between you two, when you're really not, Halting from your steps you stood face to face with him.

"Oppa, what are you doing?" you asked, looking around as he attempts to hold your arm again but you panicked when you saw some curious eyes on both of you and the last thing you wanted was for the student body's attention on you. You jerk from his touch "I told you to drop this." you whispered, walking away from him but being the tall guy that he is, it made no effort for him to walk up beside you. You fasten your pace but to no avail, was useless to him.

"We need to talk," he said as he drags you to the gym, both of them entered the locker room where the lights were off only the lights coming from the outside were your source to see his face.

His face turns into a frown. "Stop taking me as a joke," he blurted. If he thinks you're taking this or him as a joke, he was wrong. You just want this to never happen and you don't want to be one of those girls on the lists that he victimized, you beg to defer. plus, talk about being scared of the rejection, you don't want it happening to you to the point that you started pushing him away.

"Why? Do you think this is a joke for me? I won't waste my time searching or even waiting for you if I think of this as a joke." shocked was evident on your face and he attempts to touch you. "Don't !" I squealed, putting my hands in the air across his face to stop him. "You know, I told you I don’t do one night stand with just anybody.” he says, you racked your head searching for a specific moment and then you remember how you practically throw yourself at him even going to the lengths of saying that night was your first day as a couple. 

"I feel disgusted by myself don't you know that? you want to talk? Fine, I don't want to be rejected, honestly, I'm saving my face from the humiliation, we had sex," you hysterically said. "Just because we were both drunk!"

you breathed some air in your lungs, a dumbfounded Jaehyun in front of you. "Don't look at me like that."

"You don't understand," he said seriously. “Im not taking no as an answer, you brought this up on your ownself.”

"What? don't understand what?" you asked. you ran your fingers through your hair, seriously getting tired of this. both of you were just running in circles. you couldn’t believe Jaehyun was like this, like a lost puppy, looking like a lost puppy, "If you think I don't understand the situation, then don't you think you should elaborate it more for me?" you asked. You both locked eyes, he's obviously thinking, finding the right words to talk you into this. He put his hands in his pockets. "This is different, at least for me," was the only thing he said.

"I don't believe you. and I don't need you to be responsible," you said. "Oppa, Just please forget it," you turn around and walk once again ready to leave him as a handgrip your arm but this time pulling you back harshly to be faced by him again.

You felt yourself collide with his rock hard body, his lips on yours as you tried to focus your eyes on him, you accidentally drop all the books that you have when you felt him put his other hand on the back of your neck, kissing you deeply and pulling you incredibly close, leaving no air to pass through you and him. Stuck in the same position, you did not dare to move.

He reached for your face and deepen the kiss. "What the hell-" you pushed him away but for some reason, your energy leaves the soul out of you.

He slightly nibbles at your lower lip and you automatically responded with the same urge his giving you, knowing this is wrong and that you should probably stop this, but your mind and body won't cooperate and you suddenly remembered the sensation he makes you feel back then, thinking about the situation, kissing in a dark place with only the two of you making lewd noises made you wet down there. A soft moan escapes your lips as his fingers slightly gaze at your skin just underneath your blouse.

"We both know what we want. And obviously, your body doesn't lie," he said, eyes the darkest shade as he gazes down on you with a smirk on his lips.

"Is this how you get to bed girls? because you totally got me."

"No, I'm telling you, I want you. In every way possible."

yeah, short fic for my bub so what :(((

[jflemings]

you don’t need to prove yourself to me | spencer reid

summary: the BAU gets called into a local homicide case where all the victims have been women. You end up questioning the unsub and he hits a bit too close to home. 

warnings: murder, aggressive tones & language, mentions of violence against women, substance abuse & domestic violence is mentioned, normal cm type stuff ends in fluff tho!

note from the author: This fic might get pretty heavy for some people reading, nothing too major. substance abuse is mentioned as is minor domestic violence but does not go into detail it is just for the sake of the plot. do not read if you feel like you are not comfortable with these topics!

word count: 5k - I am so sorry but this fic wouldn't make sense to make into two parts whoops 

“The unsub in question is presumably a white male in his mid to late fifties with some sort of prior anger issues. He may seem relatively approachable at first, often may be charming to people he first meets but has an underlying sense of self rightousness and hatred towards women.” Hotch says before looking at you to continue.

Your attention shifts from your superior to the crowd of police officers in front of you “Chances are he’s a family man, a local. someone who knows his way around the area and can hide in plain sight. Depreciating jokes about women and possibly even a spouse could be in his humor, most likely he holds old sexist values. Grew up in an abusive household or with no mother which is where his lack of respect for women stems from.” you conclude your statement with a scan around the room, getting a feel for the reactions in the crowd before JJ starts to pull you away to a back office where the team has been set up temporarily this morning. 

The door closes with a soft click as JJ leans up against it, her hand still on the handle. The sound of shifting papers fills the suddenly very obvious quiet room while you stand at the desk organising the case file and any evidence left on the desk, your long time friend stares at you and you can feel her eyes burning into the left side of your face before breaking her silence. 

“Y/N what’s wrong?” the calm tone floats through the room as you stop shuffling papers and look up to the photos of the women on the evidence board before making eye contact with your most respected colleague 

“I grew up with these women. One of them was my tutor in math when I was a sophomore, JJ!. To you guys these women are strangers but to me they’re friendly faces whom I’ve been with since I was a toddler and it frustrates me so much to not know if I’m waiting around for a dead body of an old classmate” A breath releases itself from your lungs and a weight has started to lift off of your shoulders and be replaced with a steady hand.

“This sick son of a bitch isn’t going to be doing this for much longer. We’re gonna catch him, y/n and I promise you can be the one to put his head on a stick” Her reassuring gaze and firm but kind smile is enough to put you at ease before Reid comes busting through the door.

His eyes are locked on you 

“There’s been an attack” is all he can get out before your blood runs cold and you’re out of the station making a beeline for Hotch in the parking lot. 

His back is turned to you but it doesn’t take a genius to know that right now he’s determined to find the unseen before it’s too late. 

“Hotch! what’s going on!?” His name desperatly leaves your mouth before you, JJ and Spencer are stood in front of him 

“a young woman was attacked two blocks away from her home, she fought back and is okay but may need to be taken to hosptial. She specifically asked for you” 

You can feel the colour rapidly drain from your face, your great rate sky rocketing “Where was she attacked?”

“Corner of Anderson and Meyers street” 

..

The street is lined with patrol cars and officers when you pull up with spencer, your hands on the wheel are shaking and white and you can’t control the over whelming feeling in the core of your stomach.

Your blank stare and lack of response doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend of a year. He reaches over to put the car in park and then gently takes your hands off the steering wheel and placing them in his own . 

“Y/N look at me. She’s okay. She’s alive and she wants to speak with you. She fought and he couldn’t grab her.” Spencer’s slow tone is attention grabbing enough for your eyes to pry themselves away from the scene in front of you. 

His eyes soften when he sees the tears brimming in your own and feels the ever so slight shake coming from your palms. Spencer had seen you cry before, yes, but not like this; the BAU had taken plenty of cases like this one but it was obvious to him now that you had taken this far more personal than he had initially though. His left hand removed itself from yours and brushed some fly away hairs behind your ear before gently resting it on the side of your face.

“if you want, we can sit here for a minute I’ll call Hotch now and tell him to take the lead and we’ll sit and yo-” He begins to ramble and you move his hand from your face so you can ahem his full attention.

“Spence, it’s okay. You and I can go over and speak with the victim; I’m going to be fine” you spoke softly with a smile on your face de before the both of you unbuckled yourselves and headed towards the ambulance parked in front of the corner. 

The young woman is sitting in he back of the ambulance whilst holding an ice pack to the right side of her arm. Emily stands in front of her trying to get any information she can when you approach so you can take over. 

“Thanks, Em. Reid and I can take over” you say before she puts a hand on or arm and walks away so your undivided attention is now on the woman in the back of the ambulance. 

“Hello my name is Dr Reid and this is my partner Agent L/N, you- uh insisted you speak with us” Spencer introduces whilst flicking his gaze from you to the victim.

It’s like a tidal wave of realisation comes over you once you finally get a good look at the person in front of you “Oh my god- are you okay?” both hands grip the woman’s shoulders is utter disbelief and a look of concern is now occupying your features. “Ellie, what did he try to do to you?” the question comes out rushed while your eyes scan her body.

“Y/N! oh my god you’ll never believe it! I was just doing my normal track and when I got to this corner he tried to grab me. He held a knife to my stomach and threatened to stabbed me if I screamed but I couldn't take any chances so I hit him in his ribs and then heeled his toes as hard as I could but he still managed to get me on my arm and hip” She said exhausted, like she had just re lived it right in front of you. Stress crossed her features and her hand gripped her forehead.

You turn to your dumbfounded boyfriend standing beside you and you remembered that he had yet to properly meet your high school best friend.

“Ellie this is Spencer” you gestured to him and Ellie looked like she had finally found a thought that was floating in her brain “My boyfriend spencer” you clarified.

Instinctively, she stuck her hand out for him to shake “Oh of course! You’re the cute doctor” she smiled graciously when he did take her hand while Spence side eyed you.

“Sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances” He gave her a tight lipped smile before taking out his notebook “We were just wondering if we could ask a few questions? We’re not too sure we can wait ‘till after you’ve been checked out of hospital” spencer said.

You agreed with him “Did you happen to get a look at his face? or possibly any identifying characteristics” you quizzed while she racked her brain for some answers. 

She sighed before answering “His hair was clean cut, like he had just gotten it done and his eyes were kind of deep set- like he hadn’t had a good nights sleep in at least a couple of months” she hesitated before looking at Reid “He wasn’t as tall as Spencer but he still had a bit of height on him, I think came up just past his shoulder” She stopped again and mindlessly scanned the crowd of uniformed officers before she set her sights back onto you. “The shirt Y/N! underneath his hoodie he wore a grey collard shirt that looked exactly like the police uniform”

 Spencer’s head whipped around to the crowd of officers, either trying to find your superior or trying to find the suspected unsub. You wracked your brain, thoughts flying in and out of your head a million miles a minute. Nerves once again invaded your stomach and you started to rock from foot to foot trying to come up with someone- anyone- who possibly fit this profile and then it happened.

A light bulb moment. A realisation. A solution to all your problems went off in your brain. 

You grabbed the thing closest to you which was coincidentally spencer’s right forearm “Tell Hotch we need everyone back at the station as well as photos taken of all uniform officers from the past fifteen years, I need to get onto Garcia asap I think I know who our unsub is” Your tone was firm and merely unfamiliar to Spencer, you had never spoken to him like that before so he knew you meant business.

You had taken your phone out of your back pocket and turned in the direction of the car, starting to rush away from the ambulance before spencer caught up with you and caught your arm in his hand 

“Where are you going?” Once said out loud he knew it was a stupid question and judging by the flat look on your face you did too. he let out a defeated sigh “No, I know exactly where you’re going but I mean what are you doing going back without the team?” 

His eyes scanned your face and he dropped his head so the two of you were on the same level “If the unsub is a uniformed officer I’m not letting you go back to the station without the team. We don’t know if he’s out here with us right now or back a the station waiting” His tone was hushed and firm like he wanted to make sure neither of you could be heard but also to ensure you knew that he meant what he was saying. 

“Spen-” 

“No Y/N” He now stood at his full stature which you were now coming to realise could be quite intimidating “Do not argue with me about this. This guy, animal, absolute son of a bitch targets women, seemingly people he knows. You’re a local and started out as a uniformed officer in this precinct so if you genuinely think that there is even a slither of a chance that I’m going to let you walk back into that station you are very much mistaken” He was confident as assertive when he spoke to you and when he finished his chest started to rise and fall with frustrated breaths.

He had never spoken to you like that or told you what you could and couldn’t do, especially when it came to a case. Spencer adored you- practically worshiped the very ground you walked on- because he had the up most faith in you and respect for you. He was very confident in the fact that you could take care of yourself with or without a gun strapped to your belt.

You visibly deflated and let out a deep sigh neither of you were aware you were holding in. Spencer once again got down to your eye level

 “Okay Spence, okay” you reassured him. 

You caught sight of Morgan over Spencer’s shoulder and called to him 

“Get the team back to the precinct and Garcia on the phone Derek!” your voice caught the attention of Gideon and JJ who was giving you a nod when you turn back to spencer and motion to get in the car.

While stopped at traffic lights Spencer dialled Garcia’s number and put it on speaker phone 

“You have reached the resident genius what can I do for you my sweet?” Penelope’s voice sang through the phone and spencer made a face at the use of ‘resident genius’ 

“Pen I need you to pull up the most recent photos taken of the uniformed officers at this precinct and look for a white man, mid to late fifties with a clean cut haircut, deep set eyes and he’ll have scars that look like fingernail scratches at the base of his neck” you could feel spencer’s curious mind get the better of him when you included that last detail but you were determined not tot make your eyes off the road.

“Bingo baby! Nick Kane, fifty five years old standing at five foot nine with, exactly like you said, three long fingernail-like scars at the base of his neck” she stated a-matter-a-factly 

A knowing smile came over your features “pull up anything you can find on him, a record, any house calls or complaints, anything that was maybe payed off or covered up” 

“you seem to know a lot about this guy, L/N” Penelope quizzed 

Reid could see the hesitation in your eyes as your grip tightened on the wheel 

“Don’t question it” you said through gritted teeth 

“Oh no I uh- I wasn’t” 

Your eyes slightly widened “No pen, not you” 

Garcia seemed to understand “I’ll have that faxed over for you my love”

A small smile found it’s way upon your lips “thank you P”

Spencer hung up the phone and looked out his window not noticing the glances you threw his way.

By the time you and Spence pulled up to the station you were in full on work mode. You were practically burning holes into the ground with your feet when you marched up to Morgan and Emily with your boyfriend hot on your heels. 

“I need the both of you to get information on Nick Kane’s whereabouts on this afternoon’s patrol. Ask any officers or detectives if they saw him leave the station at what time and if they didn’t ask them when the last time they saw him was” The words tumbled out of your mouth and all your two friends could do was nod 

Emily smiled proudly at you “all over it, Hotch is in there now but I’m not too sure he’s very successful” she nodded her head to the back where the interrogation rooms were. Derek nodded in agreement 

“Garcia also said that the files you asked her to fax over are ready” Morgan read the text off his phone which earned a grateful smile from you before walking off to grab the papers with all three of your co workers following you with their eyes.

Derek turned back around to face spencer who had worry written all over his face “Alright man, what’s going on? we got the bad guy, no one was majorly hurt today which means you can rest easy tonight” 

Spencer came back down to earth at the sound of his long-time friend’s voice. He sighed in defeat “We might have the bad guy, nothing is concrete right now even if he fits the profile, the victim was incredibly lucky that he only got her arm and hip and I can’t rest easy tonight because I know that Y/N is hiding something” Spencer’s hands flailed as he rambled, completely missing the look  Emily gave him.

“Hiding something? Spence what are you talking about? If she was hiding something she’d be hiding it from us, not you. I genuinely don’t think theres anything in the world that you don’t know about her” Emily said trying to calm him even a little bit 

“I thought you two agreed not to profile each other anyway? wasn’t that, like one of the first things you agreed on even when you were friends” Morgan raised an eyebrow 

“This isn’t me being an FBI agent and profiling her, it’s me being her boyfriend and worrying about her. She’s taken his case to heart more than I thought she would. It hits too close to home for her” Spencer concluded while he scuffed his feet at the old carpet floor “And I know that there were women killed that she knew personally but her demeanor changed once she figured out who our potential unsub was and I can’t figure out why...” Spencer begins to trail off when his eyes follow Hotch leaving the interrogation room.

Emily and Morgan follow his eye line and begin to follow after him. 

The first thing the doctor notices is that Hotch is more rigid than normal. His brow is furrowed low and his posture is stiff against the table he’s leaning on with his mouth set in a concrete frown and before he can register what just happened in the interrogation room three of his agents are standing in front of them asking for their co worker. A deep and tired sigh can be heard before the trio of agents is rushing toward the room where he just was, JJ and Gideon already watching the scene unfold from behind the two way glass.

A box with the last name Kane scribbled onto the front is slated down on the desk followed by a very angry agent.

The skin around her cuticles is bleeding from being picked at all day but her face is stern and cold so if she truly was as anxious as she had been through the day you would never know.

The dirty cop is relaxed when Y/N sits down in front of him, he’s leant back in the chair with his hands placed on his thighs casually almost as if he’s with a friend or at home and unknowingly to agent L/N her colleagues are less relaxed from behind the glass.

Morgan is first to point out the obvious.

“He doesn't seem nervous or even on edge about being questioned; shows he’s been in that same position before” he states, not taking his eye off the room

Gideon hesitates before he speaks “That’s because he has been: a few years ago he was brought in for substance possession after a bag was found during a warrant in his home” 

Derek’s face contorts “why did they have a warrant?”

Agent Gideon doesn’t look at Morgan when he replies “illegal firearm possession as well as concerns of domestic violence both charges were dropped” 

Your eyes briefly look up from the manila folder in your hands containing details of each of the murders in you hand to the man sitting in front of you. A picture of a middle aged woman is put directly in front of the officer “I don’t have to ask you if you know who this is because we know you were with her the night before she died” you state 

Nick kisses his teeth “yes, I was with her the night before but I was also with her husband”

“her husband who has a solid alibi unlike you” another photo comes out from the folder “she went missing at five am and was found around seven thirty am in a bush, her husband had left for work at four thirty and clocked in five thirty”

Two more sets of photos are spread in front of the offender and he was only yet to shift in his seat. You kept eyeing the other folders in the box, the older ones but you were waiting for an opportunity one where he would just slip up and you’d have him.

Spencer’s nails may have well been chewed to the bed from pure anxiety of seeing you sit in that room. You’d obviously done interrogations like this before but a feeling that spencer couldn’t shake was sitting at the bottom of your stomach.

With Hotch now back in the room everyone was even more on edge. 

“He hasn’t said anything useful while she’s been in there?” the monotone voice broke through the silence of the onlooking room. 

“Not yet but the more photos she pulls out the more on edge he gets. Not noticeably to anyone but a profiler of course but he seemingly gets a little bit more uneasy every time a new victim is pulled out of the folder” JJ informs. Out of the corner of her eye she can see Reid chewing on his nails while not taking his eyes off of his girlfriend she slaps his hand away and passes a small smile to let him know that you knew what she was doing. 

“Reid what’s the matter with you? She can take care of herself” Gideon calmly asks. The debate going on in the youngest team members head is a hard one because on one hand he doesn’t want to sound like a paranoid boyfriend but on the other he needs some reassurance and maybe his superiors can give that to him.

“Y/N has been on edge since we took this case on and I know it’s because she grew up here and there were people she grew up with murdered but since she got the idea into her head that this was our guy I just feel like she’s hiding something” the ramble stops and eyes fall on Reid but his only concern is what Jason Gideon thinks 

Jason purses his lips “I know she’s hiding something but thought nothing of it because I was under the assumption that you knew what it was” for the first time since entering the room Spencer and Jason make eye contact.

“Your boss asked me about the scars on my neck” 

Reid’s concentration is lost and once again all eyes are back on you

“Did he now?” Your shock is masked by the cold set frown that you’ve had on your face since the minute you stepped into the station.

Kane leans forward over the desk, his hands coming together infant of him “yes he did, was very curious to hear about how I got them which made me think: if Aaron Hotchner isn’t aware of how I got them then certainly your little boyfriend isn’t either” the smirk is set on his face 

Reid’s ears perk up 

“I was under the impression that you had to have a clean record to go into the FBI work that you do”

you lean forward in the slightest “My record is squeaky clean. Yours on the other hand, isn’t” 

Eyebrows raise in surprise.

You pull another folder from the box but this time it’s dated back to seven years ago when domestic violence complaints first started getting called in. First piece of paper is pulled out and you continue to read. 

“Complaints of screaming, excessive cussing from two of your neighbours, January 16th 2004, yet again complaints of screaming, cussing and loud bangs July 25th 2004, sudden screaming and what sounded like a heavy piece of furniture falling March 16th 2005, same thing November 21st and 25th, Glass shattering, shouting police are called but nothing gets further done August 2006″ you pause from your reading and look him dead in the eyes.

Left hand rubs forehead 

Another folder.

“April 2007 a warrant was issued for your home for suspected possession of substances, charges dropped. Any further domestic violence complaints or charges were dropped after May that same year until September 2009 when your wife was sent to hospital with critical injuries; the matter was under further investigation until early January of 2010 when you wrote a cheque for $14,000 to get those charges dropped and cleared”

Hand rubs scars, obviously a nervous habit picked up after the incident 

The man shifts in his seat again “Don’t think I’ve forgotten because I haven’t” the sentence grinds it’s way through his teeth 

You merely relax your posture and speak calmly “Not my record, not my problem” a small smirk sits comfortably on your face. “We know what you did to these women, Nick. This case has your name written all over it.” 

From the opposite side of the glass spencer wracks his brain to put all the pieces together “not my record, not my problem” he mumbles to no one in particular. The genius looks back on old conversations only to realise one topic that had never really come up in conversation between the two of you.

“The mother” he says out loud. Confused faces cast their attention to the doctor.

Spencer hesitates “When she talks about the record, she’s talking about her mother” 

Emily raises an eyebrow “How’d you figure that?”

Gideon intercepts before his agent can even get a word in “You ever seen a man make scratches like that?” 

“Know what I did? My family fell apart, I have no one” His hands slam on the table sitting between the both of you “I bet you don’t even know what you’re talking ab-”

This time it’s your turn to slam the desk 

“I know damn well about the four counts of aggravated assault against an officer, the drug possession, the attempted fraud! I know every last fucking bit of it! I know you try to pull my brother in here to charge him with whatever you can! the number of vandalism charges and assault charges don’t even scratch the surface!” anger surges through you and suddenly Spencer has it all figured out.

“So what makes you so clean huh? Why does assault cover your immediate families records but not your own huh?!” He spits at you 

You’ve had enough

Quick to stand, the chair you were sitting on suddenly slides back behind you, hands are planted firmly on the top of the table and now you’re standing right over him

JJ jumps back in fright straight into Derek who takes no time to grab her and steady her. Emily and Gideon are speechless, not once has anyone seen you react to something like that. Hotch places a firm hand on Spender’s shoulder which ultimately goes unnoticed. He gets it now. 

Colour drains from his face 

“I’m better at controlling my temper but I’ll still hit you twice as hard” the words flow out of your mouth so calmly anyone standing outside the door might think you were talking to a frightened child.

Eyes search for any sign of remorse and find none 

Garcia calls Derek’s phone to let him and the team know that while Ellie had escaped, Nick got sloppy and left something behind. 

Gideon’s voice filters through your earpiece “DNA was found on Ellie”

You can’t help but smile

“Your DNA has just been found on your most recent victim Nick, you’ve got nothing left” 

Got him.

 The box of files is in your hands when you walk out of the interrogation room and practically body slam your boyfriend. Kind eyes look down at you pleadingly “Got given the all clear to go home, do you want to have a chat?” the sentence is just above a whisper but the genuine worried expression etched upon his face is all you need to know.

Spencer starts the engine before driving out of the carpark and onto the road. Thick silence sits in the air and all of a sudden the car feels to small even though you are the only two in it. Mindlessly picking at your fingernails means you didn’t notice Spencer pulling into the McDonalds drive through to order two hot fudge sundaes with extra topping - your tradition after a particularly difficult case. He wordlessly hands you the tray while he picks the furtherest car park in the parking lot and stops the car. You hand him his ice cream and noticing his chewed nails you grab his hand.

“Spence” 

“Watching you in there today was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do but knowing that you felt like you couldn’t come to me based off of the fact that you thought I-I would be upset or angry or not understanding was something that I don’t know how to deal with” He grabs the ice cream tray off of your lap and places them in the cup holder before unbuckling his seatbelt and turning his full attention to you.

“Y/N you mean the world to me, truly you do, I can’t think of anyone else in this world I would want to spend the rest of my life with so I’m telling you now that I love you unconditionally and I want you to know that even if that didn't happen today and you didn't feel like you would be able to tell me about your family I would happily wait for as long as you needed me to until you felt like you were ready for that and I’m sorry that he felt the need to say it in front of myself and our team.

His hands are cold against your flushed face and you flutter your eyes closed momentarily before looking hime in the eye. 

“I didn't want this to affect my work life or the opinions of our team or your opinion of me I was- well I- I hid it because I want to prove to people that I can come from a household like that and still be a good person. a good agent” your confession made his eyes glass over and his smile soften.

“You have proved yourself time and time again to not only me but to the team. You handled it so well today even after what he chose to say to you. Y/N I am so unbelievably proud of you and the person you are, nothing is going to change that” His thumb stroked your cheek before he giggled to himself 

“Plus telling him that you could hit him twice as hard was pretty hot I’m not gonna- hey! no! I’m being serious” 

The sound of your laughs filled the car and the once heavy feeling was now light and airy when he brought your lips to his.

“Spence, these ice creams are gonna melt and I want to eat them” 

[plant-flwrs]

I love your writing! Can you do a reader x fred where the reader’s whole family (like siblings) is slytherin except her and she’s in gryffindor and you can do whatever with it thank you!

rivalries as old as time // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: omg i’ve never written mean!george this was kind of scary hehe. n e way, hope u like it! thanks for ur request!

summary: Fred and George are usually united on everything, but Fred’s crush on Draco Malfoy’s sister is definitely something they disagree on.

(5k)

---------

You had never liked red, and as you fidgeted with your red tie for the fifth time, you felt an elbow to your side.

“Stop,” Fred Weasley whispered from beside you, sending a scowl your way, “It’s distracting.”

“Distracting from what? You have no intention of taking notes,” you said, looking at both his and your blank parchments in front of you.

“Distracting from my daydreams,” he said easily, leaning forward on his desk to rest his forearms against the wood, “I need to focus on them, they’re just getting good.”

“What’re they about?” you asked, hoping to sound rude. Fred looked at you in the corner of his eye, and he was regrettably forced to admit that your signature Malfoy smirk was insanely attractive.

“Oh you know,” Fred said, copying your actions to lean back in his chair, “ the usual. Trolls and Gremlins.”

The both of you slouched in your chairs, arms crossed, ignoring the awfully boring lecture Professor Binns was giving.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by Fred. Your gaze drifted across the room, trying to find something entertaining for your crystal gray eyes to focus on.

Fred, meanwhile, was internally slapping himself. Trolls and Gremlins? That was so stupid!

He watched your blonde hair fall from where it was loosely tucked into a headband, and you brought a mindless finger to put the hair back. He watched your simple movements, entranced by you.

You and Fred didn’t get along. You are a Malfoy, and he’s a Weasley. But still, somehow, you both always found yourselves thinking of the other.

History of Magic was his favorite class, because of you.

You and Draco had crossed paths on the way to lunch, and he walked briskly over to you, dismissing some of his Slytherin friends. You paid no mind to their scowls and figured they felt so angry because Gryffindor was playing Slytherin next week on the pitch.

“Has mum sent an owl to you this week?” Draco asked, craning his neck a little to look at you. His growth spurt hadn’t struck him yet.

“Oh!” you said, beginning to dig through your bag, “Sorry, forgot about it.”

You pulled a small parcel from your bag, handing it to your brother. The two of you were nearing the Great Hall, where you would have to split and go your separate ways.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling an obligation to be nosy in your little brother’s business.

“Some ink,” Draco said lazily, tucking the package into his own bag, “it’s my lucky ink.”

“Why? Is it enchanted?” you asked, and then lowered your voice, “Is that how you get such high marks?”

Draco smiled at your compliment and shook his head no.

“No, I get those because I study,” he said flatly, a dig at the fact that you excelled more on the Quidditch pitch than the academics.

You jokingly narrowed your eyes at him, and just before he walked to the Slytherin table, you reached out and ruffled his gelled hair. His joking stature quickly turned serious, and you broke into a jog to get to the Gryffindor table and away from Draco. You watched him attempt to smooth back his hair, chuckling as you slid down on the bench, a few seats away from Fred and George.

Fred was hunched over a poorly drawn drawing that George pointed to continuously while he talked.

“If we took that one corridor, there's that curtain that leads here,” George said, moving his finger to the right, “and then we can easily get back in time!”

You didn’t bother to ask, knowing George wouldn’t tell you. As much as you and Fred would get into little arguments, George had it out for you. Despite being his housemate, it was a known fact that you were the target of his pranks. Last year, he had snuck into the girl's Quidditch changing rooms and stole your clothes. You had to beg Fred from where he stood on the outside of the tent to make his brother give his clothes back, and when that didn’t work, you waved your wand and said “Accio clothes”. George had never run so fast up a hill, and he still couldn’t escape your wrath.

You pulled a sandwich from the tray in front of you.

“Malfoy,” Oliver Wood said, catching your attention.

“Yeah?” you said, taking a large bite of your sandwich.

“Did you look over that play I sent you?” Oliver asked, referring to the crumpled note he had tossed at the back of your head during Charms.

“Yeah,” you said, chewing and fishing in your bag for the note.

You pulled it out and saw Fred looking towards you. You looked at him before returning to Oliver. You unfolded the paper and Oliver hunched over it as George had done down the table.

Oliver’s hands were all over the simple drawing, his words getting lost in your boredom. You loved Quidditch, but god, could Oliver be boring.

“What are you two talking about?” both of your heads snapped up to see Fred forcing himself between the two first years that sat across you.

Oliver handed him the paper, pointing at all the meanings of the symbols.

“This,” he finally said, catching his breath, “is how we’re gonna beat Slytherin next week.”

Your weeknights were spent with Oliver, both of you ranting on about strategies while also trying to get done some homework. You occupied a wooden table that was usually used for chess, but the board was moved over to the coffee table where Ron and Harry played.

Fred watched, nearly pouting, from his spot on the couch. He watched the way your light eyes would brighten at the words Oliver said to you, and how you would blush every time he offered you a compliment on your playing.

“Ready for practice tonight?” Fred said, sliding up next to you as you waited outside of Binns’ classroom.

“Yeah,” you said absentmindedly, picking at your nails.

“George and I won’t take it easy on you,” Fred said, his veiled attempt at sounding threatening failing.

“Oh, Fred,” you said, faking a shake in your voice, “you don’t mean that.”

Fred rolled his eyes at your teasing, following after you as you walked to your shared desk.

Both of you came down the Gryffindor stairs at the same time, dressed in your practice jerseys and equipment in hand.

You glanced at him and caught his eyes looking you up and down. You chuckled to yourself, and his face flushed red.

You walked through the portrait hole with Oliver, and Fred watched you as he waited for George.

The two of them twisted and tossed their beater bats from hand to hand as they were perched on their brooms. You and Alicia faced off near the ground, hovering stoically. It was no competition, you were a better flyer than Alicia. She nearly had you matched in the power of her arm, but you still had the upper hand.

Fred bit his lip as you extended yourself to reach for the Quaffle. Your legs were the only thing keeping you on the broom, but you didn’t pay any mind to the unsteadiness. The only thing you thought of was the play Oliver had ingrained in your mind the past week. You repeated his critiques in your head and made sure to fix your grip on the Quaffle.

Alicia trailed after you, and you dove under Angelina to avoid her grasp. They were both trailing after you now. Alicia was nearly taken off her broom by a Bludger, and risking a glance upwards, you saw Fred’s triumphant smile. It was lucky that Fred was on your team for this practice because George had a nasty habit of failing to block Bludgers from hitting you.

Nearing near the goal post, you easily wound your arm back and sent the Quaffle right past Oliver. He slapped his gloved hands on his broom and sent you a proud smile.

The practice continued, and you weren’t hit with a Bludger the whole time, no matter how many George sent at you. Fred was always there to send them off, and send you a wink after he did it. You won the practice scrimmage, but Alicia put up a good fight.

“We have this,” Alicia said, beaming at you as she shed her heavy robes in the changing room.

“If we don’t I think Oliver’ll have an aneurism,” you joked, pulling on a loose t-shirt.

Angelina chuckled, and Alicia continued to beam.

“Really lucky Fred saved you from all those Bludgers,” Katie Bell teased from behind you.

“George has got it out for me,” you said nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Yeah, but, Fred sure kept you safe,” she continued to hint, but it went over your head.

“Well yeah, we can’t have an injury two days before the match,” you said, closing your locker and shuffling the combination.

Alicia rolled her eyes, and Angelina laughed.

“Yeah, that’s why,” Katie said, giving up.

You walked up the path to the castle and saw a clan of black robes walking down the path. You saw blond hair that matched yours peaking from one of them.

“Draco!” you called to your brother, breaking into a jog to reach him.

“Hey,” he said, breaking off from his Slytherin teammates.

“Are you guys ready for the match?” you asked excitedly.

Draco huffed out a defeated sigh, crossing his arms.

“No,” he admitted, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his housemates couldn’t hear him, “we bloody suck.”

You fought the cheeky smile that crept onto your face.

“Oh, that’s rotten, Draco,” you said, beginning to walk back down the hill with him, “I’m sure you’ll play your best.”

“I’ll try,” he said, beginning to shoo you off, “go do your homework.”

You rolled your eyes at your brother and waved him off, setting back up the castle.

The day of matches was always nerving, but it was even worse when it was against Slytherin. It felt like everyone in the school wanted you, needed you, to beat them.

You and Oliver sat shoulder to shoulder, both trying to get the other to eat something for breakfast. You both claimed to be too nervous, and then the other would say “that’s ridiculous, you have to eat!”.

Walking to the pitch, Harry Potter trailed behind all of you. You watched the twins stop to reach him, each wrapping a comforting and brotherly arm around his shoulders. You smiled to yourself, slipping into the changing room with the rest of the girls.

The crowd was roaring. It had never been this loud. Various chants sounded off, and you soon realized that someone in the Slytherin crowd learned a charm to louden their voice. Hateful words about Harry spouted from the green stands, and boos countered the Slytherin statements from the blue, yellow, and red bannered stands.

Taking the field, you hovered in front of Adrian Pucey as you had hovered in front of Alicia. Alicia was much nicer to look at, you thought, and she was a better player.

Pucey was barely moving before you soared off with the Quaffle tucked under your arm. You avoided the Slytherin chasers easily, twisting and ducking on your broom with the Quaffle on you like it was a third arm attached to your body. Cheers sounded off as you faked out Marcus Flint and Adrian Pucey, making them dive into each other and nearly sending them off their brooms.

You looked back, seeing Alicia wide open behind you. You glanced forward, the Slytherin keeper braced for your shot. You slowed, allowing Alicia to come to your side. You made a seamless pass to her that the keeper hadn’t noticed, and while he looked at you, Alicia came from the left and scored. You met her to high five, your arms outstretched.

Fred dove to you, following a very determined Bludger. His bat was nearly touching it, nearly about to send it off its path towards you. He was just about to reach it when you dove. Fred and the Bludger soared past you, and the Bludger redirected itself. Doing a loop, and seeing that you were no longer there, it went for the next best thing. Alicia barely had time to brace herself before the Bludger knocked her shoulder out of its socket. The painful injury only caused a short interruption, but she had some choice words for Fred and George for failing to hit the Bludger sooner.

After that one incident, the game continued in the same fashion. You and Alicia flew circles around the lacking Slytherin Chasers, and Oliver blocked nearly everything they sent at him.

The cheers from the crowd stayed consistent for the entire match. There was never a silent moment from any house. A renowned gasp fell across the crowd, though, as Draco changed direction quickly. He turned the end of his broom straight up, and with an outstretched hand, Harry was breathing down Draco’s neck. You watched your brother, his blond hair flying off his face, his long arms reaching out into the sky. You didn’t feel bad for rooting for Draco, because even if he caught it, you were so ahead it wouldn’t have mattered.

Draco’s pale fingers eventually did wrap around the snitch, and without thinking, he let go of his broom in the haste of catching the little thing. He began to fall from the sky, and you watched as his legs and arms flailed around him. His broom fell faster than he did, and you flew to him. You were pulling your wand from your boot when someone had beat you to it. Draco hung suspended in mid-air, his body limp. He raised his head, and you saw his ghostly cheeks flushed pink. He looked around, patting his body to check if he was still alive. When he realized he was, he raised his hand into the sky, showing the golden snitch. The green section roared with laughter, but Lee Jordan’s voice halted them.

“Just a reminder! The Gryffindor team still wins!”

Cheers from every other section sounded off, and you felt a pang of guilt in your heart. You could be a Slytherin, you should be a Slytherin, and here you were apart of one of the houses that cheered for your brother's losses.

You flew to Draco, watching as he tucked the snitch into his robe pocket. You hovered, and he climbed onto the back of your broom. You looked around to see who had saved him, only to see Fred’s smug smile above you. George hovered next to his brother, scowling at Fred. You watched Fred tuck his wand back into his robes, giving you a shy wave. You smiled back at him, a silent thanks for the help.

You flew Draco to the ground, where he collected his broom.

“You were great, Dray,” you said, clapping him on the back, “really.”

“We lost,” he spat at you, cringing from your touch.

“Yeah but that’s not your fault.” you consoled him, watching his face soften, “You did your job, you caught the snitch.”

Draco nodded at you, offering you an appreciative smile. You wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed briefly, then sending him off to his sulking Slytherin team captain.

Oliver was already running towards you, arms outstretched.

“Y/n!” he called, and you smiled widely at him.

“You were amazing, Wood,” you called to him, letting him envelop you in a hug.

He pulled you over to the huddle of your teammates, and they were all beaming.

“Wasn’t Potter this time, was it?” Lee Jordan called from his place in the spectator box, “Y/n Malfoy, the best Chaser Gryffindor’s got!”

You blushed wildly at Lee’s exaggerated praise, ducking your head as your teammates all cheered for you.

Fred and George came tumbling from the sky, landing ungracefully on the ground.

“Think this calls for a party?” Fred asked, and everyone’s cheers increased.

The common room was transformed into an even more red and gold haven. Maybe red was growing on you.

You were standing at the center of a huddle, everyone’s glasses raised. Oliver had just made a quite longwinded speech, to which you cut off with:

“Let’s drink to that!”

Cheers came from everyone around you, and you brought your firewhisky to your lips.

“I still don’t get why you did that,” George shouted at his brother, his words slightly slurred. George never could handle his liquor.

“It was her brother, mate!” Fred shouted back.

“He’s a Malfoy! And so is she! Freaks, the lot of them!” George yelled, and the statement trailed over the crowd and to your ears.

You turned to look at the twins, meeting George’s disgusted face.

You pushed through the crowd and put yourself between the brothers, bringing your face to George’s.

“What’s your problem?” you shouted, and he cringed away from the loud noise.

“You!” he shouted back, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re a prick,” you said to him, sounding poisonous, “a drunk prick.”

George scoffed and brought a hand to your shoulder. He shoved you away, and you tumbled into Fred. Fred’s arms were around you before you could lunge at George as if he read your mind.

“Let me go!” you shouted to Fred, thrashing against him. George stood in front of you, taunting you. He waved his drink around, his drunken expression full of arrogance.

“I can’t!” Fred called out to you, then to George, “George, stop!”

George rolled his eyes and tossed back the rest of his drink. He stumbled off to somewhere else, leaving you in Fred’s grasp.

He felt your heavy breathing against his chest, your warm arms in his hands.

“You alright?” Fred spoke into your ear, his mouth moving against your hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine, you can let me go,” you said, wiggling from his grasp.

Fred hadn’t wanted to let you go, but he figured it would be odd if he kept you pulled against him.

“He didn’t mean that,” Fred started, but you waved him off.

“Yes he did,” you said. starting to walk away.

Fred reached out for you, pulling you back.

“I’m sorry,” Fred said, his eyes searching yours.

“Stop, Fred,” you said, pulling your arm from his hand again, “None of you Weasley’s have liked me since the day I was sorted into Gryffindor. It didn’t even matter who I was.”

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed at your statement, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything but sympathy as he looked at your hurt expression.

“That’s not true, Y/n,” he started, but you turned again. He didn’t stop you that time.

Your mood was ruined. You filled your cup with more firewhisky, but at the bottom of each glass, all you could see was George’s disgusted face.

You had never done anything to the Weasleys, but that never stopped the redheads, or their friends, from sending you glares any time they saw you. You felt torn, torn by the unnaturalness of you being in Gryffindor, being away from your brother. You were torn by the fact that you felt weren’t even wanted by Gryffindor. No matter what you did, it was never right.

You remembered watching Draco get sorted, his baby-faced wonder as he sat on the stool with his legs crossed at the ankles. You had hoped, you had even prayed, that Draco would be sorted into Gryffindor. When that house was called out, though, the table of green erupted, and you watched your brother be swept off by your rivaling house.

George would never understand this, he would never see you as anything but a Malfoy, a pure-blood supremacist. You weren’t what your family was, you didn’t care about blood status, but no one cared.

Your anger seethed, watching George having fun, dancing with Angelina. Your grip on your cup tightened, and you wanted more than anything to go up to him and throw what was left of your drink into his face. You started over to him.

Fred intercepted you, having been watching you intently the whole night.

“You don’t want to do this,” Fred said, trying to calm you down as he blocked your path to his brother, “wait ‘till morning, then you can scream at him all you want.”

You could only shake your head, trying to move pasted Fred. You didn’t want to do this in the morning, you wanted to do this now, while the warm anger moved through your blood as fast as the whiskey did.

Fred’s hands gripped your upper arms, holding you in place.

“Let me go, Fred,” you mumbled, teeth gritted.

“I can’t, Y/n,” he said, searching for your eyes like he was begging you to look at him.

“He can’t always get away with it,” you whispered, feeling your anger turn into sadness. You had refused to cry about George or anything he said in your first year, but it seemed that now was your breaking point.

“He won’t, I promise,” Fred whispered back, trying to sound reassuring. He found it hard, his heart hurting at the sight of you so upset.

“He always does!” you exclaimed, your voice breaking. Your eyes were still dry, but the pounding in your chest felt like a heart attack.

“Well, he won’t this time,” Fred replied, bringing his face to yours so you had no choice but to look at him, “I’ll make sure of it.”

You met his eyes, and he saw the hopeful glint in them. He offered you a kind smile, his lips stretched across his face. You nodded at him, relaxing in his grasp. You didn’t try to move from it, and you didn’t want to. You felt safe in Fred’s arms.

“Oi!” George called from behind Fred.

Fred turned, putting you behind his back and himself between you and George. You pushed and pulled, trying to get in front of him and to George, but he was too strong.

“Fred, when are you going to get over this?” George asked his brother, downing the last of his dark drink.

“Shut up, George,” Fred warned, trying to push you and him away from George.

“I’ve told you a million times, mate,” George started, “Malfoys and Weasleys don’t belong together.”

Fred was on top of George in seconds. He was wrestling him to the ground and putting him in a headlock.

You put a hand over your mouth, watching as they fought. You replayed George’s words, “Malfoys and Weasleys don’t belong together”. Was this simple brotherly teasing, or did Fred have feelings for you?

Katie and Alicia found you in the crowd, and you hadn’t even realized what you were doing as they pulled you off of Fred and George. You had grabbed Fred’s shoulders, trying to pull him off his brother, but they thrashed against your grip.

Alicia and Katie were guiding you up the girl's dormitory stairs, pushing you towards the bathroom as your face became green with nausea. Katie held your hair, rubbing your back as you emptied your breakfast and what looked to be an entire bottle of firewhisky.

You groaned, moving to rest your back on the wall in front of the toilet. Katie flushed the vomit, closed the lid, and sat in front of you.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her kind voice inviting you to tell her all about your insecurities and worries.

Alicia came in right at the part of you feeling guilty for not being Slytherin, and Angelina stumbled into the dorms at your conclusion of what George said about Weasleys and Malfoys.

The girls consoled you, assuring you that you had every right to be in Gryffindor and that George was just a prick.

“What’d you think he meant by that?” Katie said, testing your reaction, in reference to what George said.

“I dunno,” you grumbled, moving yourself to lay down on the ground. Alicia moved, grabbing your shoulder and making you stay upright.

“Could it mean Fred,” Alicia spoke like a kindergarten teacher, and your drunken self giggled as she spoke, “likes you?”

You gasped, your head falling back to hit the wall.

“No way,” you mumbled, and when Katie started giggling next to you, you did too.

When Fred finally made his way up the girl's stairs, bypassing the detouring charms, he heard loud and manic giggles coming from your dorm. He opened the door but found the beds empty. The door to the bathroom was open, and the sound came from there.

“Hello?” he said, rasping his knuckles on the door frame.

The four girls on the ground, all looked up at him with bright smiles, all saying at the same time: “Fred!”

Fred’s eyes went to yours immediately. He smiled as his name fell from your drunken lips, admiring the twinkle in your silver eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked, moving to crouch in front of you.

The other girls got the hint, and filed out of the bathroom, all mumbling something of good luck to you.

“Yeah,” you replied, still smiling.

Your eyes focused on his face, and you saw a nasty cut on his lip. It bled a little to the corner of his mouth and down his jaw, stopping just above his shirt collar.

Your smile dropped, and you brought a hand to his jaw, “Are you alright? You’re bleeding, Fred.”

He brought a hand to his lip, and when he pulled it away he saw blood. You pushed yourself to your feet, wobbling a little as you stood. You got a wad of toilet paper and wet it a little in the sink. You put your hands on Fred’s shoulders, telling him to be still.

He closed his eyes as you dragged the paper over his jaw and dabbed at his lip. Once you got the blood off, you got a dry piece of toilet paper and ran it back over his jaw again. He suppressed the groans he wanted to release, forcing his hands not to reach out and grab your waist. Once the trail of blood was gone, you used a finger to tilt his face up. You ran your fingers over where the blood had been, making sure you got it all. Fred’s mouth opened a little at the touch, and he sighed heavily. You let his face drop back to yours, and looked at him. His mouth still had some blood in the corner. You wet the pad of your thumb with your tongue and cupped Fred’s face. You brought your thumb to the corner of his mouth and swiped your finger across his lip. This time Fred wasn’t able to suppress the moan that came from his chest. Your hand still rested on his shoulder, and your hand still held his jaw.

“Did George do this?” you asked, fearful of his response.

“Must have,” Fred whispered back to you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, dropping your hands from Fred and turning your back to him, “I shouldn’t have gone over to him.”

“Hey,” Fred said, wrapping a hand on your waist and pulling you into him, “George deserved that. You should see the shiner I gave him.”

“I can’t let you fight your brother like that,” you whispered, putting a hand on his chest and feeling his beating heart, “you two don’t fight like that.”

“I don’t care. I’ll fight him every day until he gives you a chance,” Fred replied, bringing a hand from your waist to the back of your neck.

When he began to pull your face closer to his, you pulled back a little, still in his embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” you said, a teasing smile on your face.

“Why not?” he pouted.

“I just threw up, it’s gross.”

Fred dug in his pocket for a second and pulled out a tin. It was one in the packaging of one of his products, but he assured you they had yet to be charmed to make people’s tongues swell.

“I don’t know,” you dragged, twisting the small mint in your fingers.

“Why would I prank you right now? You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he took the mint form your hand and put it in your mouth for you.

He was right, it was just a regular mint. The taste of vomit was gone, and after you chewed it, Fred barely wasted a second before he pulled you into him.

He kissed you hard, despite having a busted lip. When you ran your tongue over it, he winced, and you pulled back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, bringing your hand up to it and touching his lip. His hand grabbed yours, and he placed gentle kisses to each of your fingertips. His hand moved to your palm, to your wrist, and up your arm. His mouth ran over your shoulder, which he pulled your shirt back from, and up your neck. His lips finally connected with yours again, and you let out a pleased moan.

Fred pushed you against the counter of the sink, and you wrapped your hands in his hair. The feeling of nausea hit you very quickly, and you pulled away from Fred. You doubled over, trying to will yourself from throwing up.

“Oh god,” you started, and Fred rushed to your side, “I’m gonna throw up again.”

“What? Was it the mint? Are you alright?” Fred protested as you pushed him on his back out of the bathroom, closing the door and locking it behind him.

You threw open the toilet seat and emptied what was left in your stomach. Flushing, you closed the lid and sat on it. You pulled your wand from your waistband and unlocked the door. Fred came in hesitantly, and when he saw you were fine, he lifted you off the toilet by the hand.

“Come on,” he said, guiding you out of the dorm.

“I don’t wanna go back to the party,” you mumbled, pulling his arm closer to you as you held onto it.

“You’ve been up there for ages, the party’s long over,” Fred assured, pulling you down the stairs.

Cups littered the ground, and abandoned streamers hung from the ceiling. A banner Dean Thomas had made hung lopsided on one side of the room.

Fred pulled you to the couch, bringing a blanket over you.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, and you laughed at his nurturing actions.

You were about to say no, but the rumbling of your stomach convinced you otherwise. You had emptied everything you had eaten, and you were hungry.

Fred snuck to the kitchens easily, making the same trek he made nearly every other night. He brought you back some sandwiches, but when he slipped through the portrait hole, he found you asleep on the couch.

Your breathing was even, and your mouth hung open a little. You curled into the couch, tucking your legs up to your chest.

He put the sandwiches on the table next to you and moved your body to the left. He curled up next to you, pulling the blanket over the both of you. He spooned you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. He wrapped his arm around your waist, and your hand found his under the blanket.

For the first time, you felt at home in the Gryffindor common room.

[i-see-you-now-you-see-me]

Papa don’t preach (DYVLONY series)

Pairing: Wavy Kun (NCT Kun) x Reader (number 6. You)

Can be read seperately, but advise to read other parts of DYVLONY series for some characters who appear to make more sense.

Word count: approx 5k

Warnings: some violence, light bondage, smut scene, unprotected sex 18+ people

enjoy reading under the cut, also- hit me up if you like or dislike, feedback is always appreciated! Love you!

Papa, don’t preach

*10043567901; 1102033149001, Planet DYVLONY*

-So, this is your kink dungeon? – you (number 6) asked, giggling.

-No, - Kun sighed, - this is the wine cellar…

Your laugh filled the room, as funny as it was, with Pastor Kun you never knew, if he was telling the truth or if he was lying. After the first sexual encounter with each other, the desire in both of you were on a thin thread that was about to burst soon. How many nights where you over Pastor’s lap, tears in your eyes, your ass sore from all the spanks that were delivered… and how many nights did Pastor Kun enjoyed your beatings on his broad back and shoulders? Even when his body was covered in red markings, he asked you for more, and every time he did, it only made you clench your thighs together to soothe the need.

-Ahh, Papa, why so boring?

-Papa? – Kun re asked.

-We have a song where I come from, and it’s very popular, - you said, - you want? I sing for you?

-No, thank you, - Kun refused, - I am afraid my ears will bleed…

-Hey!!! – you shouted and smacked his shoulder playfully.

Behind closed doors it was exactly as Kun had said- a wine cellar. Nothing dodgy: just normal cellar, with stacks of bottled wine on racking.

– This is it? Really? I was hoping for a proper spank room.

Kun turned his head to look at you.

-Naughty girl, - he whispered, - everything is meant for spanking with you, isn’t it?

-Well, yes and no, - you explained, - I enjoy spanking, especially from you, but noooo, not everything, it’s more of a fun thing to say.

-Not to me, - Kun retreated. – when you say something about that, you know I will dwell on it all night.

You caught his stare and bit your lip. Walking over to the racking, your hands wandered over the expanses of expensive bottles. Some stickers were missing, so it means, they must be very old, but out of the old ones, there was one, that had not a single dust on it, and it made you curious. Kun’s eyes lingered where you walked. As soon as you went the right direction, Kun was starting to take off his pastor mantle.

-This is odd, - you stated reaching for the bottle.

-Is it now? – Kun was right behind you, as you wanted to turn, his hands blocked your movements, - Pick it up…

He said in a smooth voice. You gently touched the bottle and once you did, it made a cracking noise and you heard something moving.

-Oh my god! – you were shocked, - there really is a kink dungeon!!!

Kun turned you around, there was a panel that had moved from the ceiling, now towards the cellar ground, it looked like a bed post without mattress, on all four sides there were leather cuffs, chains hanging from both ends.

-How do you like it? – Kun asked, voice like honey, you were awestruck.

-Uhm, - you choked on saliva, - I am not too sure.

-I made this for us, - he stepped forward, touching the leather with his hands, only then you noticed he wasn’t wearing his mantle; he was left in trousers and white tank top.

-Who is going to be tied up? – you asked, turning towards him, - me or you?

-It’s up to you, - he simply stated, - come on, I will show you the idea.

You were next to Kun, as he opened the cuffs.

-This is for your arms, - he pulled you until you were sat on the panel, - but first, let me take this of you.

Opening your classic onesie, Kun stripped you down to bra and underwear, didn’t help much that the undies had a hole, leaving your bottom bare to his eyes, as you stood up to take it off.

-I did say I only bought them as a joke, - Kun laughed, - I didn��t think that you would actually wear them…

-Anything to please my pastor, - you simply replied, - I’m being a good girl, aren’t I.

-Aha, - his hand swatted your ass cheeks, grabbing onto them before holding onto your waste lovingly. His lips reached for your shoulder, peppering kisses starting from your shoulder blades, then towards your arm, you tilted your head savoring the feeling of his lips on your body. Turning you around, his lips attacked yours, his tongue asking for entry, which you provided him with. Soon you were attached to the leather cuffs, your legs spread apart.

-How is it?

-Not that comfortable, - you said with a laugh.

-What is it? – Kun asked.

-I feel like I know where this is going, - you said, - I am a very dirty minded person.

-I know you are, but I hope you are wrong, - Kun checked if you were secured to the panel, leaning in and kissing your ankles, and then each knee. – how do you feel about overstimulation?

-Oo, - you bit your lip, - are you treating me?

Kun nodded.

-Yes, - you smiled at him eagerly, - make me cry if you want to.

-If at any point it is too much…

-I’ll shout “papa don’t preach?”

Kun took a moment to realize, that it actually is not a bad idea, he nodded in agreement.  The next thing though, he didn’t warn you about. A slight buzzing sound reached your ears as you looked down where the sound was coming from.

-You have those? – you gasped in shock, at the same time Kun pressed the buzzer closer to your womanhood, and then seemingly changed his mind.

-Yes, we do, - he simply stated while focusing on the task, once he set a nice buzzing on the lowest setting, he put it right onto your nipple, the sensation making you come alive. Left nipple and the right one, till the peaks were both equally excited. – What a good girl, indeed.

Leaving the vibrating toy on one of your nipples, Kun delved his tongue in your wet folds. Your cuffed legs leaving you without a chance of moving anywhere. He was licking and sucking, and kissing your lower lips, his tongue entering your vagina.

-Ah, Kun, - you moaned loudly. Feeling the pressure climbing higher you were ready to let go any minute.

Feeling your walls tighten around his tongue, Kun knew you were getting closer to your orgasm, and just before you could reach the hot ecstasy, he stopped. Your breathing was shallow, short breaths leaving your mouth. You did say “yes”.

-Oh god yes, - you moaned out, - fuck!

Once the swear word left your mouth your womanhood was rewarded with a smack, and then another, as you tried to pry away from Kun’s punishing hands. Choking on your own moans, you didn’t know you could make sounds like this, the whimpers escaping your lips. Once your breathing was back to normal, Kun returned to his task. This time he moved the buzzing wand straight to your folds, separating your labia with its head. Pastor changed the speed setting to a higher one, leaving the toy at your other entrance. The massage of your anus made you clench pathetically about nothing, and Kun’s lips returned to your clitoris, sucking and letting go, keeping up with the rhythm. You knew you must be dripping now, Kun will have a lot to clean when you are done, but you had no time to think too much about it, your body arching from the panel.

-Not too tight? – Kun asked to assure you were alright.

-Ahh, - you moaned, - fucking peachy…

Kun sat up, his palm reaching to pinch your nipples, while the buzzer was snug at your butthole. Reaching for your neck, he held onto it while looking you directly in your eyes. Then with a swift movement he stopped your air flow, just for a few seconds, letting you go after, and repeating it again.

-I don’t like when you swear at me, - he simply smiled at you, you nodded your head, - So, what was that? Not tight? Everything alright?

-Yes, - you said, small tear forming in the corner of your eyes. – Ahh, I need more, Kun…

He took off his shirt, leaning in for a kiss. His wandering hand brushing passed your pelvis, two fingers entering you, his soft lips absorbing your cry. There was barely any resistance, and Kun moved his fingers freely, setting up a speed so good, your legs started shaking.

-Don’t think about coming, - he whispered licking at your now bruised lips, you could only nod.

The pressure was building fast; you were on the brink of reaching the peak, when Kun got up, his fingers leaving your core, grabbing the toy away from you. Your teary eyes were a sight to behold, as Kun licked his fingers from your nectar.

-One more? – he asked, and you nodded.

Kun again reached for you, his lips tracing a pattern from your jaw line, towards your neck, your breasts, smooth flowing kisses on your tummy, on each side of your hip bones, his hot breath now on your pussy. Parting your legs to his liking, his lips got back to business, his tongue delving straight into you. The buzzing returned, as he pressed the want at your swollen bud. More tears escaped your eyes, as your moans got louder. You were feeling the tight coil forming in your belly, knowing it will be the end soon, but as you were to reach the sweet peak, Kun was fast to stop you, stepping away from you completely.

For some reason, this felt like a torture, and you were ready to shout the three safe words you established, tears streamed down your face. Normally you would be alright, but this was far from alright. How Kun managed to do it so fast?

Did you really like him that much?

Would you miss him if you were on Earth?

Was he the only one who had given you the taste of what you truly desire?

Yes.

-Papa, don’t preach, - you whispered quietly.

Kun leaned in to unfasten your cuffs straight away, pulling you in for a back hug against his chest. He soothed your vulnerable body, his touch like feather all over you.

-Shhhh, - he whispered, - it’s fine, as long as you are ok.

Taking off the cuffs from your legs, he let you rest your body on his.

-I’m sorry, - you said, - i… I don’t know what happened…

Kun fastened your onesie around you, taking you with him upstairs, once in the bathroom, he made you sit down in the shower, while he prepared the water that cascaded down your back.

-Careful with the hair, - you said with a small laugh, - don’t want it in my butt crack later.

Kun washed your hair, taking a cloth; he washed down your body with lavender body wash, drying you of in a towel, giving you a few pecks here and there.

Later in your room, (yes, your room, as much as Kun felt the need to have you by his side every night, you were not ready to share that kind of commitment with him, not yet) you replied the events in your head. Why did it feel so weird? What’s the issue you can’t pull yourself together with?

Kun is amazing, you are sure of it, he would have rewarded you with an fire scorching orgasm after that, but why weren’t you ready?

It’s like your own bad thoughts and insecurities coming back to you… why were you single at your age? Why were you running from your life, scattering away with one night stands that didn’t lead anywhere? What if you had never been on that damn space ship? Where would you be now?

You finally realized your escape mechanism. Don’t get too close, they might run away. Run away like many had before, scared of commitment. Where you not turned into one of them? Loners searching for sex, disappearing into early morning, the walk of shame like an everyday routine?

There was a silent knock on the door, and you turned around to see Kun, who walked closer to you.

- Sorry to disturb your sleep, but I forgot to tell you something. There is a wedding tomorrow, - you nodded, as he sat down on your bed. – so, I won’t be home for a bit.

-Ok, - you nodded. – are you preaching?

Kun nodded, moving his arms to tug you in.

-Are you alright? – Kun’s smile reassured you to speak up, as he noticed your eyes wandering everywhere else but him.

-I… - you started, - your previous relationships? How… you know, how where they?

-Well, for a starter, I haven’t met anyone like you before, none of my previous partners knows what I like, if that’s what you are asking. I didn’t really have a relationship, only one before I became a pastor.

-What was that like?

Kun breathed in as if he remembered his past. At first, he looked deep in thought, and then he played with his hands and fingers a bit, before starting.

-She was a prostitute, - you nearly gasped. Kun was fondling with his rings, not looking at you as he continued. – But I was not a pastor at that time. Let’s say like this – my first sexual experience was anything but sexual. I was a bit of a nerd, going to church on Sundays, following books and doing a lot of reading, but as the night fell, I became the sex obsessed beast in the sheets. Her name was Paulina. She kept my bed warm for a bit, and she taught me how to please a woman right, so I am grateful for that. Before she died, I was in studies, last year when I had to choose what to do next, but I hadn’t really made plans. A friend of mine asked me to join his fathers’ company, because, once he finished, he would become the next CEO. Paulina discovered that she was ill, and her days were numbered. So she asked me- when you go to the church, pray for me to go to a good place after I die, please? I didn’t know what to say but “I will”, she died before I told her that I prayed for her every Sunday, and that I heard the god’s will for the first time. I learned that the god only spoke to people who are destined for something great. Father Gabriel told me he trusts that god took Paulina with him to White Haven. Even through hurt and pain, I put my faith into god and followed his plan for me…

Your hand reached for his, squeezing tenderly, Kun leaned down to kiss the top of your palms, kissing your forehead next.

-Sleep tight, baby girl, - he whispered and you nudged him.

-Ew, no, - you laughed again, - where did you get this from?

Kun left you not giving an answer, whistling as he walked out. You closed your eyes and for some reason slept right through the morning. Your own thoughts that troubled you before- gone without a trace.

*

-Dong Sicheng, long time no see? – Pastor Kun greeted his fellow classmate.

-Long time it is, I hear you have an alien living with you, - Kun nodded, Sicheng’s remark was ok, but his voice tone made it feel unsettling in his mind.

-I do, she’s a very kind human, and I am happy to provide her with comfort…

-Amongst other things, I presume?

-On the contrary, - Kun spoke softly, - are you still against humans, WinWin?

The nickname made Sicheng cringe, and he swallowed hard.

-Anyways, I should be heading back, I’ve paid my respects, see you some time later? – not even waiting for an answer Sicheng left, disappearing around the corner.

Kun opened his bible, reading the last lines of the “White walk” evangelism:

“Two souls becoming one are set to be forever entwined. A heart will beat in unison with a heart, till the end of both their days, walking hand in hand in white…”

*

-Who…. Who are you? – Intruder surprised you, as you were to go get a drink. There you saw a figure dressed in all black. He/she had his/her back turned on you.

-Ahh, I hate this, normally, trust me, if I had a choice, I would not be doing this, - when the figure turned around a woman with dark hair was staring at you.  – There is always a different approach, but I cannot waist any more time.

-Who are you? – This time you spoke more strongly, your voice not quivering anymore. Why the fuck did he sound like a dude when it was clear she was a woman? Or was it the other way around?

-Sweetie, there is no need for that, - she said, - where is ye dear old pastor?

Her voice was laced with venom as she was belittling Kun.

-Oh, come on baby, don’t be such a tease, - her hands reached for the knife, your eyes darted around to look for a weapon to defend yourself. – I really hate to do this, you know…

She was walking towards you, your hand reached for the first thing you could grab, and before she could attack you, your hand swung the chopping board right in her face. Out of nowhere Kun ran inside the kitchen, going straight away, blocking Guanhee’s movement with his own body, the knife delving deep in his chest. You screamed in shock, Kun’s body going limp, as he was falling backwards, your bodies sinking towards the floor now.

-Ah, why the bitch face? – Guanhee spoke again. – it’s your fault…

-No, it’s yours, - you said, wiping the tears with your palms, - it’s your fault and you will fix this.

Where did you get the courage? You had no idea. But as you stood up, taking the chopping board once again, you went full on attack mode. Swinging the board wherever you could reach, Guanhee was down on the ground sooner than expected.

-Now, bitch, - you bit back her own words, - call the fucking ambulance before I break your face!

You saw a slight movement from her side, but your reaction was faster as you kneaded the stranger between her legs. To your surprise when she grabbed her crotch you understood that she was a he.

-Call the ambulance!!! – You shouted once more, and she complied. Then turning back to Kun, you reached for him, sitting back down on the floor, putting his head on your lap. – Hold on, please Kun… please.

Your silent whispers didn’t reach his ears, as he was losing consciousness. You heard a slight rustling, but turning around- Guanhee was already gone. Why did she not attack you one more time? Why did she leave empty handed?

The sound of sirens were heard in the background, as more tears escaped your eyes.

-Please, Kun….

*

-He suffered quite a blood loss, but he is stable now, the weapon didn’t reach any of his internal organs, so it’s mainly a slight damage on his breathing system.

The Doctor walked you towards the hospital room where Kun was at. He was a well- known member in society, so the council had provided him with a VIP room. When you approached him, he had his eyes closed.

-I’ll leave you to it then, - Doctor Delilah bid you goodbye as she left.

You sat on the chair next to Kun’s bed, too scared to reach for him just yet.

-I won’t bite, I promise, - Kun whispered unexpectedly making you yelp. The more you looked at him, the more teary your eyes got. It started slow, tear slipped from the corner of your eye, then another followed by another tear. – Shhh, I’m ok…

He reassured you, reaching for your hands.

-You cannot move, - you said, wailing, your cries leaving your mouth, - you have to stay in sleeping position.

-Only if you come closer, - he smiled and soon you were pulled in a warm hug.

-Kun, you cannot… - you whispered.

-I can, I am not fragile, god is watching over us… besides… I need to tell you something.

Your body relaxed in his arms once more. His hands touched your hair, then he cupped your cheeks and gave you a sweet kiss on the lips.

-I received a message, while I was at the wedding. - Kun started, - He has blessed us… you and me, so I am thankful to be with you… if you feel the same, no pressure if you do not. I want you to feel comfortable when around me, and I think I am ready for the next step. Are you?

When you nodded in agreement, his lips reached for yours again.

-That’s my baby, - Kun smiled giving you pecks all over your face. Tracing your tears with his fingertips, Kun wiped the pain, fright and the inner demons away. You had found your safe haven in his arms, and one thing for sure, you don’t ever want to leave. Not this time.

***

-Don’t touch the blindfold, - you chastised, making Kun respond with a huff. You switched roles with him, since he still was on lighter duties, his body still wrapped in bandages. He was positioned on a chair wearing only loose sweatpants, his hair disheveled from the shower he had few minutes ago. – I really miss you.

Your hands traced a pattern on his torso, slightly grazing his abdomen, making Kun bite his lip. You reached in for a kiss, just a small peck really, to leave him hanging.

-Are you ready? – you leaned in whispering in his ear.

-Oh yes, - he whispered back, giving your body the same reaction, sending shivers down your spine, light goose bumps covering your skin. You left him by himself, walking to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water.

-Hold this for me, - you said, giving him one glass and the other.

-What is this? – he asked, confused.

-Did you think I was going easy on you?

-No, I was hoping for extra, with you it’s never vanilla, - Kun giggled, - also, if I wasn’t mistaken, you wore lace… so not vanilla at all.

When he had a good grip on both glasses of water, you grabbed his dick through his sweats. He gasped, some water spilling from both glasses.

-No, no, no, - you whispered, - when you spill water, I give you a punishment…

Your hands travelled up his torso again, reaching for his head, you sharply tugged on his hair, his head falling back, a moan slipping past his lips. You kissed him harshly this time, nipping at his lips, licking at his jaw, kissing your way down his body. Your lips had reached his left nipple, his right one was still covered with bandage. Tugging on it with your teeth, you heard Kun whisper something quietly. He held onto the glasses much stronger than before. Teasing was always fun and two can always play this game.

Sitting on his lap you took a test grind onto his crotch. Your lace covered panties did nothing to hide your wet arousal sipping through. Your lips drank from Kun’s again, your hand in his hair, the harder you ground onto him, the harder you pulled at his roots. You kissed at his mouth, the corner of his lips, dipping your finger in one of the glasses, tracing a wet patch all over his body. Tugging at his trousers, Kun stood up, so you could take them off.

His penis stood proud, waiting for what’s next. Your wet fingers touched the base, a slight touch on the head, and then a sharp tug, your fist around the shaft. Kun gasped the air- your hand moved up and down a bit, your thumb touching the head, massaging the small bead of pre-cum formed at the top.

-Remember not to spill the water, - you reminded him.

Getting down on your knees, you took his length in your mouth, welcoming his dick in your wet cavern. Sucking lightly on its head, you let him deeper in your mouth, letting his dick hit the back of your throat at its own accord. Setting in a nice rhythm, Kun moaned every time you sucked him deeper, his moans like a delight to your ears.

-Ahh, I’m so close, - he moaned out.

Feeling him tighten his muscles a bit, you noticed his abs flexing, as soon as he was about to come, you stopped completely. Breathing in slowly, Kun got his breathing back to normal.

-Let’s go, - he said, ready to resume what you were doing. – Tease me more, baby…

The nickname made you giggle again, what exactly was he playing at using it?

You enveloped his cock again, licking the underside of his shaft, sucking only on the tip, the taste of him bitter on your tongue. Shifting on your knees, you fisted his length, sucking on his ball-sack, Kuns’ sharp breathing returned, he was getting worked up very quickly, and as soon as you noticed him shifting around a bit more, you knew how close he was and when exactly to stop.

You stood up, kissing Kun’s lips again. Taking one glass, you took a sip from it, and put it back in Kun’s hand. Leaning in you tapped on his lips, and Kun opened them. Letting the water slip from your lips into his mouth, he swallowed greedily.

-More? – you teased and he nodded.

You reached for the other glass and did the same, more water spilling on Kun’s jaw than his mouth.

-Don’t spill the water… - you whispered one last time, positioning yourself on his lap, his cock at your entrance. Moving your underwear aside, your wet cunt finally touched his hard on. Moving yourself lower and with the help of your hand, Kun’s dick slowly pushed inside of your tight walls, convulsing around him straight away.

-Sssooo tight…. – Kun choked on a moan.

-Mhmh, - you whispered, it felt like teasing Kun had affected you more than you’d like to admit. Feeling yourself lose so fast while riding him, pain in your joints already, you were ready to give up.

-Fuck this, - Kun said sharply, dropping both glasses on the floor, water spilling everywhere, his hands onto your waist, not wasting any time fucking into you, meeting you halfway. Taking off the blindfold, he leaned in for a kiss first, then attacked your breasts through the lace bra, biting and sucking through the material. – not comfortable…

He stated, picking you up, your legs around his hips, as he walked you to the closest flat surface. Kitchen table will do. Sitting you down to it, his pelvic movements returned, his hands groping on every fleshy bit of your body, lips sucking bruises on your neck, while your hands returned to his hair again.

When your vaginal walls were tightening on his length, Kun pulled out leaving you empty and breathless.

-Shit! – the swear word left you lips, Kun disapproved.

-What was that? – he leaned closer to you, - I quite couldn’t catch that… care to repeat?

You nodded a “no”, but got rewarded with a smack on both of your breasts.

-Come on, - he pulled you up to stand, as he flipped you over, pressing your upper body down to the cold surface, sliding his counterpart straight back into you, both of you moaning in unison.

His hand reached for your front, finding your clitoris in no time, giving you that one last push, making you come instantly, his pelvic thrusts not stopping, till he was spilling his essence inside of you.

-One more for me, baby, - he teased again, rubbing on your sensitive nub, this time making  you scream out incoherent words as you reached the sweet peak again. Pulling out, a whine left your lips and Kun gathered you in his arms, helping you stand, reaching for some water to quench your thirst. He helped you both shower, dressing you only in a shirt. – Would you like to sleep with me?

-Kun, we just did…

-I mean like, in my bedroom… make it our bedroom?

You nodded. Both of you were under the covers straight away.

-You are a strong woman, - he said, kissing your temple, spooning your body.

-Why do you call me baby? – you asked, interested.

-Don’t you like it?

-Uhm, not really, - you responded.

-Agh, - he played, - you are hurting my feelings!

Turning back to face him, you stared at his profile for a bit, before closing your eyes.

-So, it’s official? – You asked. – Who am I to you?

-My girlfriend, my beloved, my future wife, - Kun stated leaning in to capture your lips again.

-Future wife? – you thought for a moment before responding, - I’d like that.

-You’d like that? – Kun smiled.

-I would…

*

[itsclydebitches]

YYH Episode 6, please XD

CLEARLY the correct choice, friend :D God, I actually made it 5k into this recap before one OFMD event hit, then the next, then the fanzine, then the Big Bang, then freaking Ice Queendom dropping three episodes at once... I'm so sorry, YYH. I swear I'll get back to you soon.

Until then, an excerpt!

I wasn't joking about the screaming though. Yusuke passes through the gates of his school and sends the entire student body running. I mean, wouldn't you? I know I said this last recap, but can you imagine the insanity of seeing someone you know died suddenly show up for morning homeroom? This isn't an unsubstantiated rumor that gained traction before Yusuke put things to rights. A good chunk of the school—including the principal!—attended his funeral and, as discussed above, Yusuke's demise has had quite the impact on the community. Is he a ghost then? A demon? An imposter? Yusuke's long-lost twin given the same name? It's one of those situations that's so damn weird you can't really do anything about it. The dead guy wants to attend chemistry class? Alright, just let us scream about it first.

Kuwabara arrives and gives Yusuke the most intimate and yet simultaneously creepy look I’ve ever seen animated I mean wHAT IS THIS?

And am I really supposed to believe that it’s straight??

It only lasts for a second though as Kuwabara leaps back and begins his usual spiel about beating Yusuke to a pulp. Life is hard, you were a ghost, I’ll make you a ghost again even though I went to extreme lengths to bring you back, la-de-da classic “The rival doth protest too much” stuff. His speech is interrupted when Okubo points out that he should probably thank Yusuke for saving his kitten. Yeah. Of course. He's not a monster, Okubo. He’ll do that after he beats Yusuke to a pulp.

“Not much has changed at all,” Yusuke says. That's because the archetypal nature of these characters is largely why they’re appealing and a deep dive into the impact of Yusuke’s death would detract from the established action-adventure, street fighting focus. Keep up, Yusuke.

Takenaka joins the crowd and interestingly, he's the most chill about Yusuke’s resurrection, at least among those not in the know about the spirit world. He just bops him on the head with his bag and reminds him that first period is about to begin (which Yusuke, of course, wants to skip). Despite the fact that I just emphasized YYH’s priorities, AKA not dwelling on Resurrection For The Plot, I’d KILL to get a glimpse into this man’s thought process. I mean, he literally cried over Yusuke’s coffin, mourning this kid's potential and grappling with guilt over his demise. Now he's acting like Yusuke was just suspended, or something. What the hell did Atsuko tell the school to re-enroll her dead son?

The camera shifts to inside the building, showing the gang from an upper-story window. The focus is on Iwamoto who, despite being The Worst™, is at least reacting to Yusuke in a semi-sensible manner. “It doesn’t make sense,” he seethes. “He’s like a cockroach.” Of course, Iwamoto isn’t going to follow that thread. This isn’t the story of an asshole teacher unraveling the mystery of his student’s supernatural resurrection; we segue straight back into a rekindled desire to “squash” him.

[xwing-baby]

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT 

Word Count: 5k 

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!! 

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist //  Next Chapter -->

--

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him. 

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing. 

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake. 

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.  

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled. 

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly. 

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off. 

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk. 

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.  

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge. 

 If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again. 

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents. 

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.  

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know. 

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?” 

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about. 

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell. 

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise. 

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap. 

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night. 

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did. 

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.  

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it. 

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?” 

 “Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,” 

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter. 

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?” 

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said. 

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

 “Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?” 

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes. 

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were. 

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed. 

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,” 

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner. 

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

 —

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time. 

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying. 

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you. 

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes. 

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening. 

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level,  “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?” 

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,” 

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!” 

“Insane,”  You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend. 

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you. 

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail. 

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you. 

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door. 

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well. 

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. 

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city. 

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth. 

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him. 

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him. 

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes. 

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips. 

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards. 

“Fucking bitch,” He growled. 

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away. 

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete. 

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective. 

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?” 

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun. 

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again. 

“Where’s Peña?” You asked. 

“At the bar,” 

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease. 

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done. 

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?” 

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over. 

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head. 

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle. 

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut. 

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little. 

“Don’t be a baby,” 

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear. 

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly. 

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him. 

 “Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined. 

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh. 

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed. 

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed. 

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction. 

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet. 

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on. 

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now. 

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes. 

 You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building. 

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did. 

You opened it. 

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table. 

“Fuck,” You swore out loud. 

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest. 

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared. 

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked. 

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment. 

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly. 

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,” 

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded. 

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it. 

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,” 

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,” 

 “You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,” 

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head. 

“Guess not,” 

Next Chapter  -->

--

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

tag list: @beskar-falcon  @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @wille-zarr @danniburgh @rentheisopod @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick @pedrosmustache @wantingtobekorra @balmasedas @angelsunflxwer @brujademente​ @kingsmanandqueens​ @igotissueswithfictionalmen​

[whump-town]

The Narcissist

My tasteful whump approach of: what if Tobias Hankel had made good on his word and come to kill Aaron Hotchner?

No major warnings apply, whump, angst, and sweet, sweet fluff

Word Count: 5k

If Aaron Hotchner smoked, he’d be blowing through a pack of cigarettes right about now. Gideon had benched him. The older man had taken one look at him and pulled him aside. He’s a nervous wreck. The tremor in his hands visible as his voice had cracked, asking the team to just broadcast what they each thought were his worst characteristics. Gideon let him drive his point home-- Aaron is many things but a narcissist has never been one of them-- and put him in a place where there was only one right answer. Gideon had told him no one would blame him if he couldn’t do this.

“It’s okay if you can’t handle it.”

His stomach cramps at the thought of those words.

Narcissists.

Bully.

Drill Sergeant.

Sexist.

Weak.

Leaning with his weight on his left arm, pinned above his head, Hotch vomits against the side of the house. His knees shake and tears he can’t control the tears that roll down his cheek. He bites back a sob as he falls to one knee, nearly landing in the puddle at his feet. They’re right, he concludes, shaking so hard he’s not certain he’s going to be able to get back up. He’s nothing but a bully. Worthless. Weak.

“Aaron Hotchner?”

Hotch looks up to see a dark shadow approaching him. He sniffles, straightening as his heart pounds. His subconscious drawing up his shields. Something’s not right. “Who are--” he jerks back, blinking dumbly as his brain fails to comprehend what’s just happened. He’s looking up at the sky, flat on his back. A gunshot. He coughs and gags as the thick taste of copper coats his tongue. He’s been shot.

“I condemn you,” the deep voice rasps into the dark.

Hotch just blinks, ragged wheezes leaving his mouth. He’s looking down the barrel of a gun.

“2 Corinthians 5:10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, that each one may receive the things done in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad." The hammer draws back as the sound of the old front door being thrown open rips through the night. “Every sinner must pay--” the hammer strikes.

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

Derek finds Reid.

He’s sitting on the floor with his hands bound in front of him, just waiting for whatever torture comes next. When his eyes land on them, he lets out a broken sob. Drawing his feet to his chest, he shakes his head. “No,” he rasps, burying his head in his knees. “No. No. No!” He starts to rock, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and his body drawn tight.

“Spencer?” Gideon tries to crouch near him but Reid kicks out and pushes himself away.

“No,” he cries. His eyes meet Gideon’s bloodshot and red-rimmed. “No,” there are tears pouring down his eyes. “I killed him,” he rasps. “I killed him, didn’t I?” His tone shifts. His body… Spencer Reid isn’t their rookie. He’s not their kid. He’s a shell. Broken. His voice rasps and breaks as he pleads-- the truth. He needs the truth. “Gideon, you have to tell me. Did I kill him?”

Gideon shakes his head-- oh. “Derek!” his voice is a bark, a command. It’s a level of control and demand that Morgan hasn’t seen or heard of since Adrain Bale. It snaps Morgan’s attention to the man though. “Get Aaron and Garcia on the phone and get out of here. Hankel’s going to them.”

Morgan freezes in shock, processing exactly what that means. “He’s…” his eyes dart to Reid. The younger man’s eyes bouncing between Gideon and Morgan, trying so desperately to figure out the answer to his question. So Morgan doesn’t say it, he just nods and turns around shouting out for Emily. But, by God, he thinks it. He thinks it and it makes his stomach twist and his blood cold: Tobias Hankel is going to kill Hotch.

Garcia doesn’t answer his calls. 

Three calls. 

All to voicemail. 

Morgan drives through the yard, cutting time and not giving a damn. He pulls right up alongside the police cruiser and an ambulance. “Hey,” he shouts, throwing his door open and leaving it as he runs to the first cop he sees. He pulls out his badge. “My team,” he says. “We’re working a case here. Where are Agents Hotchner and Garcia?”

The cop looks him up and down, obviously displeased with being interrupted from his leaning and watching as everyone around them works. “I don’t know,” says with a shrug. “We got some guy waiting to get picked up by the coroner.”

Morgan curses in frustration. “This isn’t some joke to me, man.” He looks around, “is there anything else you can tell me?”

Before the cop can say anything further, Emily shouts Morgan’s. She’s jogging up through the grass, moving away from the crowd of EMTs, officers, and other jackets standing by the side of the house. Motioning for him to join her, he steps back towards the car. Following. 

“Hotch and Garcia are headed towards the hospital,” she shouts. “They’re not sure Hotch is gonna make it.”

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

Penelope Garcia stands completely alone. 

Around her, the emergency room buzzes with its flooded life. Such a stark, dark comparison to her friend. His still chest barred for anyone to see as doctors lean over him. The wound is still oozing blood. A dark vacuuming wound. Sucking. He’s as pale as death and silent. He’s not crying in pain. His dark eyes aren’t scanning every inch of space he can see. 

He’s still and silent. 

From here, she can see the wounds from Adrian Bale’s bomb. She’s only known him since that bomb. That day.

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” she’s still new to the job. A greenie, the other agents playfully taunt. She doesn’t find it all that funny but this is better than federal prison. “How can I help you?” She’s got one hand holding the weight of her head, the other clicking her pen lazily against the desktop.

She’s not special here. She’s got nothing. She hates this job.

“Miss Garcia,” a weak voice greets. “I don’t know if you remember,” the caller coughs, wet and thick. That’s when she hears the wheezes. “I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good boss but it’s Agent Hotchner.”

She remembers. He’s who’s she’s supposed to be working with. That is before she got pulled to work at this desk all day doing nothing. She’s got about three more months of this garbage before she can be trusted with any of the real stuff. Before she can go work with the teams on the units-- mostly, to work with Hotch and his team. Of which, she still hasn’t met.

“I remember,” she says. She’s not sure what else she’s supposed to say.

He chuckles on the other end but it ends in an awful sounding cough. “Sorry,” he wheezes. “I’m afraid…” he takes a deep breath. “Have you seen the news?”

“No, sir.”

He hums. “Well,” he says, “we’ve gotten ourselves into a spot of trouble.”

From what she can tell, she feels that’s probably an understatement. Through his silence, the short pauses between his quick, shallow breathing, she can hear the commotion of a hospital. She can even hear his heart monitor. An undergrad degree in biology on a track to medical school doesn’t get you much in cyberspace as a hacker but she knows, from the sound of that monitor, somethings not okay.

“I was just wondering if you could do me a favor?”

His voice sounds so soft, nearly subdued almost as if he’s falling asleep, that she can’t say no. “Of course, sir.” She’s really only seen him a handful of times. The first time after he recruited her and several times in passing. Every time she can remember seeing him in the hall or in the parking lot he’d always offered a small, shy wave. Despite her frustrations with being placed on desk duty, she doesn’t hate him.

“I, ugh,” he clears his throat. His voice has softened. He’s certainly losing his battle with consciousness. “Haley,” he rasps her name. “My wife,” he clarifies. “I--I lost my phone and I just want to talk to her.” The hurt in his voice, the desperation breaks her heart. “...hit my head,” he slurs. “I...I--I hit my head and I can’t really… dialing the numbers is hard.”

The man just wants to talk to his wife. He just wants some comfort.

“Kind of silly,” he mumbles. “Could dial here but couldn’t remember the home one. The--ugh-- couldn’t remember the home line.”

She smiles and starts to do as he asks but then remembers the limited information she’s got right now. There’s no way she can access his file, let alone get to his personal information to find his wife’s number. “Sir,” she says, feeling tears start to pool in her eyes. She hates to do this because she wants to help him so badly. “I don’t have access to that information.”

They sit in silence for a long pause.

Hotch is struggling to hold on and thinking hurts but he’s sure there’s something she can do about that still… “Break a rule for me,” he says, tone playful. “I know you hate it down there. Hack my file.” He sniffles, the sound of sheets shifting blocking the line as he moves in discomfort. “Please, Penelope?”

Oh… how is she supposed to say no to that?

“You’d better have my back when they chew me out for this,” she says, setting into the task at hand. It’s pretty easy. Nothing like hacking the database months ago. She’s got half the work handed to her.

“Always,” he rasps.

She finds it easy enough. “Alright,” she says. “I’m dialing her right now.” They both sit in silence as the ringing fills the line. Two rings turn into three and she feels her heartbreaking for this poor man. The line clicks to an end and she smiles sadly at the sound of her much healthier boss’s voice greets the end call. Haley, she’s assuming, cuts in and ends the recording.

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“ ‘s okay,” he slurs. “She’s… She’s pro’ly gonna call back ‘vently.”

Chewing at her lip nervously she offers, “I can stay. If you’d like. I’ll talk to you.”

He chuckles softly and she winces as it ends in more uncomfortable shifting and more of those terrible wheezes. “...don’t hafta.” He chokes on a breath and their conversation takes a pause as a nurse steps in. Her soft voice telling Hotch that he needs to rest and the doctor’s ordered some mild sedatives.

“Can’t,” he whispers to the nurse. “I’m talk’n to my friend Penelope.”

She smiles, blushing.

The nurse responds in kind that Garcia can stay but he still needs to get some rest.

“She’s right, sir.” She cuts in. “I’ll stay and talk to you until fall asleep, okay?”

She can hear the hiss of oxygen which is good because his breathing was really concerning her. When he comes back he sounds better but like he’s half-asleep. That’s probably for the best. “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he says.

“I am,” she responds. “You need some sleep though. For your head.”

He hums in agreeance. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I hit my head.”

“I know.”

She’d talked to him that day until the phone died, even though he only stayed awake three minutes after that. Leaving that day from the office, she’d seen what he’d meant about the news and the “spot of trouble” he’d gotten into. Six agents were dead. She’d cried, right there in the bullpen, for a man she hardly knew.

Since then, she’s really grown to love him. He’s her friend. She loves him.

“Baby girl?”

Garcia turns around and sees Morgan, Emily, and JJ. She stays where she is, tears falling down her face, and leans right into the hugs they pull her into. She needs all the comfort she can get. But the hugging only lasts for so long. There are questions they need to be answered and she’s the only one with the answers.

They give her time. Twenty minutes. Just enough time for Gideon and Reid to come to the hospital

“Okay,” Morgan holds his hands around Garcia’s. Keeping her hands cupped around the warm styrofoam surrounding the shitty hospital coffee Gideon had bought them all. It keeps her hands from shaking so hard. “Can you tell me what happened now?’

Garcia nods and sniffles. She glances up at him once, shying away from his kind gaze. “Hotch went outside,” she starts, “right after you guys left.” Forcing herself to take a steadying breath, she’s able to continue on. Trying very hard to keep her composer. She knows it’s important she tells someone. “I could hear him getting sick,” she whispers because it feels like something she shouldn’t be saying. “You know how he is,” she says, looking up at Morgan. “When he gets like that? So nervous and anxious that he just…”

Morgan nods. He’s seen Hotch work his nerves up like that many times. It’s hard to tell how many times Morgan’s tailed Hotch outside, standing to the side as the man fails to work through an anxiety attack. He’s gonna kill himself one of these days getting worked up like that. Won’t ever let anyone help him, either.

Garcia had wanted to help him tonight. She just… she couldn’t stand to see him like that. Shaking so hard and pale. He’d excused himself after about ten minutes of the two of them just sitting in silence, listening to the other’s going over the plan to get Reid.

“I couldn’t see him like that,” Garcia says softly. “I wanted to help,” her voice cracks and she starts to shake again. “When I--” her breath catches.

“Alright,” Morgan stops her. He rubs her thumbs over her hands. “Take your time. You don’t have to rush.”

Garcia nods and takes a moment, breathing in through her nose. “I’m okay,” she says with a tight smile. Morgan doesn’t believe it. She can tell. Squeezing his hand she repeats herself. “I mean it.” Besides, what comes next is the hard part.

Clearing her throat, she manages to continue. “I was coming outside when I heard the first gunshot,” her voice is already shaking again. “I don’t know-- I didn’t really know what to do? I mean, Hotch has a gun and I don’t so… but I didn’t want something to be wrong and leave him all by himself.” She sniffles a little, laughing sadly at the irony of her own words.

Morgan brushes the tear that falls down her cheek away.

“When I got out there…” she stops, just thinking about what she’d seen.

The porch only had one lightbulb which hung from a strand of wires just hardly holding on. Still, as she stepped out the low light had shown her all she needed to see. The dark silhouette of Hotch’s face and his long body on the ground. There was blood on his face and more pooling onto his white dress shirt. Spreading and falling down the sides of his chest. So much blood.

There was a second man. He’d started talking like he didn’t even see her.

“I condemn you.”

She’d been frozen, in both fear and confusion.

She hadn’t done anything until she saw him pulling the hammer back. Aiming to shoot Hotch again. “Hey,” she’d run at the man with everything she had. Not for a moment did she think about what would happen if the man turned the gun to her. What would have happened then? If he’d shot her?

There’d be two bodies in the morgue.

“Hotch isn’t dead.”

Garcia flinches and looks up at Morgan in confusion. “What,” she rasps, softly.

“You said--” he frowns in confusion. “You said there would be two bodies in the morgue but Hotch isn’t dead. He’s still in surgery.” He leaves out how grim things are looking. That losing Hotch will set off a domino effect. They’ll lose Reid and Gideon isn’t enough. They’ll lose the team. The only family some of them have ever had.

Oh. She nods. Right, no, she knew that. That’s easy for him to say though. He hadn’t placed his hands over the gaping hole in Hotch’s chest. He hadn’t looked Hotch in the eyes, watching as his life blurred out. She had. She’d felt her friend’s heart slowing. Heard his breathing catch, stop, and his eyes dim. She’d been there. She’d held his hand in the ambulance.

She was right there.

She… doesn’t think he’ll make it.

“Yeah,” she whispers thickly. This time she doesn’t let Morgan brush away her tears. She hadn’t told him the worst parts. That she’d hit Tobias Hankel until he stopped moving. She’d watched his blood splatter out around him and she’d caused that.

Then she’d gone to Hotch. Her knees are still soaked with his blood. The grass had just… it was like sitting in mud. Warm mud. His eyes had searched for her in his confusion, his mouth moving to form silent words. She’d held his hand the whole time. Never leaving his side until the E.R. He’d stopped breathing in the ambulance just as it had pulled into the lot.

The worst part is that he hadn’t panicked. While everyone else in the ambulance moved with newfound vigor, he’d finally relaxed. The stress lines in his face had smoothed over and his eyes had calmed of their rapid movement. Through the chaos, he’d just looked at her and as the doctor’s pulled him away he’d squeezed her hand. And she’s still trying to figure out if he’d meant he would be okay or if she would.

“We need to get you checked out,” Morgan says, running a hand over her arm.

She looks up and shakes her head, “no. I didn’t get hurt. I promise.”

He knows she’s not hurt. The blood all over her clothes may not be hers but he’s sat in blood before too. As reassuring as it is to know it doesn’t belong to you… it’s also insanely psychologically damaging to know it belongs to someone else. Let alone that someone else being someone you love.

“I know,” he soothes. “You’re shaking pretty bad and at the very least, a nurse can get us some warm water to get this blood off. Okay?”

For the first time, she looks at the blood staining her clothes. Looking down at her shaking her hands, she sees the blood caked under her nails and dried to her skin. It makes her sick. “Okay.”

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

“Haley’s here.”

Emily is the first person to frown in confusion. She’s been on the team for only a few shorts months. Her relationships with them are rocky but forming. Given how tightly Hotch holds to his personal information she’s not certain but… “Haley is…” she glances to Morgan and then to Gideon when the other man doesn’t respond.

Gideon nods his head solemnly.

Emily’s heart kicks a beat, so hard she has to shake her head to regroup. Just some four hours ago Hotch had commended her on her ability to compartmentalize everything she sees and here she is shirking away because her boss's wife is here. But it’s not about some power dynamic. “But,” she swallows thickly around the tightness in her throat, “we don’t have news for her.”

Morgan stands up from his chair, eyes on the floor and back to her as he shrugs, “she knows the drill.”

A cold film of sweat covers Emily’s skin at just the thought. She knows about things that have happened for this team before she was on it. She just… it’s kind of different when she has some surface-level understanding of who they are. Even if she thinks Hotch is a dick, she doesn’t hate him. He’s better than a lot of bosses she’s had and maybe-- well, don’t hold her to it, but maybe she feels bad about the name-calling thing. Emily watches silently, unable to hear the words being shared between them. She can still see, though. The way Morgan’s hands shake as he recounts the details. Haley just… takes it. She nods along, clinically removed. She’s strong, more than she should have to be.

Turning from Morgan, Haley steps closer into the waiting room. Looking around at the others, what’s left of them. “And the rest of you,” she asks. “The rest of you are okay?”

Gideon takes on the question. He squeezes her shoulder, “Reid and Garcia are in the E.R. They’re getting there…”

Haley nods and wraps her arms around herself. She takes a steadying breath. “He’s gonna-- He’s going to want to know,” she says and Emily feels intense empathy for this woman. “You know he’s going to want to know as soon as he wakes up if they're’ okay.”

If he wakes up.

Gideon nods, “I know.”

“Okay,” Haley whispers and she’s numb, Emily realizes, as Gideon guides her to a chair. She’s numb so she doesn’t break. “I would--” Haley grabs Gideon’s hand. “I would like to see Spencer and Penelope. To make sure they’re okay.”

Gideon nods, “I’m sure they’d like that.” And they will. While Hotch prefers to stay in the background and worry but there’s no secret Haley is too. They both have a strong love for the babies on the unit.

And now… they have nothing to do but wait.

“Haley?” Reid wakes up restrained. His thin arms held down to the bed with itchy velcro. While he isn’t familiar with this in a personal sense, he’s seen his mother laid out like this. He doesn’t even have to test the restraints, he knows he’s not going anywhere. More pressing than that… Haley Hotchner sitting at his bedside.

Haley perks up, smiling when she sees his dark eyes open in slivers. “Hey, sweetheart,” she greets. She stands and comes closer to the bed, taking his thin, cold hand in her own. “How are you feeling?” This man may not be of any blood relation to her or Aaron but she loves him. Her husband loves him. He’s family.

Reid turns his head away from her, tears falling down the corners of his eyes. “You hate me,” he whispers.

She knows only what she needs to. Of course, under the jurisdiction and because the case hasn’t officially “closed” she can’t know that Reid chose Hotch. That his words condemned Aaron to being shot tonight. She does know that Reid is unnecessarily blaming himself for the accident. Because, as they'll soon be able to explain, Tobias was going to hurt someone either way. Haley would agree.

“No,” she soothes. “Of course, I don’t hate you.”

Reid turns to her, eyes haunted and voice hoarse, “but I killed him.”

Haley can’t help the choked sound she makes. Vehemently, she wants to deny that but she doesn’t even know if her husband is alive right now. “You didn’t,” she reassures him because at the very least she knows that’s the truth. This job has already taken her husband’s life. There’s no point in placing the blame on anyone else. “If Aaron dies tonight,” just the thought makes her chest tight.

This isn’t what she’d imagined falling in love with Pirate #4 would look like. A widower in her thirties. Raising their son all alone.

She clears her voice, steadying herself and pushing away the thought. “If Aaron dies tonight, that will have no one’s fault. No one but the Unsubs.” She glances over her shoulder, to the crowd of people-- his team. Their family. She’s seen the guilty little glances they pass her. The hug Garcia had trapped her in… they think they could have stopped this. “This, what happened tonight, is no one’s fault. Not yours, not Aaron's.”

Leave it to her husband to form a team of guilt-ridden sweethearts. She really does love them.

“Do you understand me,” she asks, eyebrow raised.

There are nods and general mumbles but what really catches her attention is the soft, sad smile Garcia manages. “You sounded like him,” the tech analyst whispers. “He’s always so worried about us,” she brushes a tear from her eyes. “Sometimes, sometimes we forget to worry about him.”

But he never lets them.

He’s so under lock and key… preoccupied with an image he’s conjured of what leadership is supposed to look like that he forgets the humanity. The bleeding. The yelling. The life.

Until it’s too late.

A doctor comes to get them. He’s alive, if only marginally. If only just holding on.

His humanity is now visible to them all.

In the mess, there is only a light blanket draped over his thin hips. It leaves his chest bare, visible for them to look long at hard at. To force this memory into their minds. To remember that under those suits there is just a man. A man who is broken and who hurts.

And, in the end, it’s her by his side when he wakes up confused and in pain.

“Aaron,” she pushes his sweat-soaked hair out of his face. Even with his eyes on her, he twists, kicking out in pain. He tries to turn his head, pinched eyes sending tears down his face. If he could cry out, he would, but all he can do is choke around the tube in his throat.

It’s like this--

He wakes for a moment, a glimpse of consciousness, and pain. She’s right by his side. She holds his hand and reminds him that he’s okay. That the team is waiting just outside. Then he falls back into the drugs.

It goes on for three days. Hours and hours of his pained kicks and tears. Nothing she can do for him.

On the fourth day, they take the tube out.

The team visits.

He’s sitting up, not of his own violation. There are pillows all around, supporting his back and sides, and two placed around his head to keep his neck supported. He is leaning heavily to his right, curled into the side of his injured chest. Haley’s tucked his blanket up over his chest, doing her best to conceal the bruises up and down his pale skin. No matter how hard she tries, the chest tube nestled between his ribs makes it’s bloodied appearance.

And it’s the first thing they all notice when they come in.

Then him.

Slack against the pillows holding him and eyes out the window on the wall. Half-lidded as he falls asleep.

“Sir,” Garcia whispers. She’s at the front of the crowd and the only one strong enough to push through her shock to get to him. She wastes no time coming to him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s so good to see you,” she manages between tears.

He smiles when she hugs him. It’s gentle, she’s very aware of the layer upon layers of bandages currently holding him together. “Penelope,” he croaks, sleepy eyes moving down her colorfully addressed body and his smile broadening when he finds no scratches. No harm. His chest aches and he finds it impossible to push out any more words but he hopes she understands.

He can remember a flash of the ambulance ride here. He can’t remember how or why his body hurts so bad but he knows Garcia was there. The faintest feeling of her hand in his, her voice guiding him between glimpses of consciousness.

Garcia smiles kindly, reaching down to squeeze his hand. “I’m really glad to see you, sir.” Even as he is, hardly presently and held together by surgical stitches-- it beats how she’d left him. For the past few nights, she’s woken in a cold sweat hearing his gurgled breaths. The sound and sight of his chest cavity filling with his lungs.

Jason comes next because none of the others can find their courage. “I know you have a sentimental attachment to your ties,” Gideon says, smiling down at his old friend. “But you really do look decades younger without it.” Nearly, identical to the boy that David Rossi had told him about all those years ago. Eager to learn but not fully trusting of their motives.

Still a trouble maker though.

Shame swells in his stomach, another of his failings so broadly laid out in front of them. If David Rossi could see the two of them now, he’d skin them both. Jason had promised to look out for “the boy”, as Dave fondly called Aaron. But the boy has grown out of his shell…

Jason had kicked him out of it with Boston and he knows Aaron wasn’t ready for that.

He ducks his head and leaves Aaron’s side with a light pat of the younger man’s hand.

Derek guides Reid to Hotch, ignoring the genius’s weak protests.

Hotch’s light up, a spark of life in his body as he spots the kid. “Reid,” he rasps. He shifts his hand, dragging it out to touch Reid. To make sure he’s really here. “... okay?” he manages, breathing, taking the strain of so much movement and all his talking.

Reid nods and it takes all of his self-control not to flinch away from Hotch. His skin is freezing. Hotch is always so warm, even just to stand beside. It’s scary and the weight of his guilt pulls Reid down. “I’m--I’m--”

Hotch smiles weakly, a crooked little grin that meets the lazy mirth in his eyes. “Please,” he whispers. “... d’n’t lie t’ me.”

Reid sniffles, tears threatening to fall down his face. As he’s pulling himself into a lie, he’s surprised to find Hotch’s hand just barely raised off the bed. Beckoning him close. For a hug. He wants to stand stoic. For once in his life, to just be the bigger man but he takes one look at his friend at the man he’s lost sleep worrying over, the man who he trusted to save him from Tobias, and he…

He lets Hotch pull him in.

“You’ll be okay,” Hotch promises. Reid tucks his face into Hotch’s neck, wanting desperately to pull more comfort from this hug but it ends because it has to. Hotch holds his hand a second too long, the two of them just looking at each other. “Strong,” Hotch rasps and Reid nods his head.

If Hotch can believe it… Reid has to.

Derek almost doesn’t say anything at all. He can’t find his voice. A part of him wants to just make out unbothered and another part of him wants to gather his boss into his arms and just hug him. Make sure he’s really here. “Don’t scare me like that.” Derek decides on an in-between. He reaches out and playfully messes with Hotch’s hair, making his bed head even worse. “Next time,” Derek says, losing his gusto. He smiles fondly at his friend and reaches down to squeeze his hand. “Next time you pull a stunt like this, I’ll kick your ass. I don’t care who’s boss you are.”

It makes Hotch smile and it creates perfect timing for JJ to steal her own hug. She slips right in beside Derek, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I wouldn’t let him do that,” she promises.

He nods, “...you’d do it yourself.”

She smiles and agrees, “but only if you really deserved it.”

He doubts that.

Emily stands back and attempts to make her getaway unnoticed. She hadn’t wanted to come to the hospital. She isn’t a part of this family, not really, not yet. Garcia had dragged her here though, those sad puppy eyes and a pouty lip. So, Emily caved and she’s regretted that decision since. Especially, when she catches his eyes mid-break-away.

“...okay?” he asks, once again. That seems to be what his main focus is on. The one thing his exhausted brain can pick to identify in each of them.

She wants to scoff or be frustrated with his worry but she looks at his eyes and she realizes that it's a genuine question. He really wants to know. It’s… a strange olive branch to find in the midst of their heated hatred of one another but perhaps she has underestimated him. Maybe, she doesn’t understand him as well as she thinks she does. With a nod, she promises, “I’m okay.”

The ease that sinks into his shoulders is not what she’s expecting.

He struggles to say something else, a mumbled, suppressed something that catches Haley’s attention. She stands and gently runs her palm against his cheek. “Don’t worry about that sweetheart,” she whispers. “Your teams here now, okay? They’re okay.” She wipes his brow, running the side of her fingers along his cheekbone. Smiling when it makes his eyes creep shut, soothing him back down. “Get some rest.”

He nods his head and his eyes fall shut. He’s exhausted. All this talking is hard and he’s hardly managed to stay awake this long all week. “Mmm,” he forces his eyes back open. They move around the room, taking inventory of the crowd. “Okay,” he asks softly.

Haley smiles and keeps up her gentle soothing. “We’re okay.”

His eyes slip back shut. “Okay.”

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

The Last Dragon | The Witcher

Chapter 14 | To Hunt a Monster

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Targaryen!OC

Summary: Visenya Targaryen is the eldest and only surviving child of Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell. When Robert Baratheon’s rebellion was won, instead of being slaughtered by the Mountain like her mother and siblings, she was saved by Ned Stark and taken as his ward. Years later, after she’s killed at the Red Wedding, she wakes up outside Blaviken. Now she finds her destiny intertwined with the White Wolf on her quest to go back home.

Word Count: 5k 

Note:  Click here to read the previous chapters ♡ Also! My tag list is open! Double also! I took some liberties with the Alp, pls don’t hate me 

Visenya swings her blade down, metal clanging against metal. A small bead of sweat runs down her forehead, falling from her brow bone and landing on the ground. She tosses her blade to the other hand, pulling it up just in time to block the incoming attack, their clashing swords forming a ‘T’. She nimbly moves to the side, and away from her opponent, breaking away from his sword. With otherworldly grace, Visenya whirls around in a half-circle, now standing behind him, pushing her blade forward to pierce through his back. He turns around, jumping back before the hit makes contact, pushing it out of the way with his own.

Metal rings in the clearing as they continue their deadly dance. Geralt kicks his leg out, centimeters away from hitting Visenya’s knees. She brings her blade down in a half crescent shape, smacking the side of his leg with the flat part of her blade. He grunts out a laugh, unbothered by the hit, but it allows Visenya to jump back from his assault. 

“You’ll have to do better than that, White Wolf,” Visenya teases, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she awaits Geralt’s next move. He snorts and lunges towards her once more. She sidesteps him, using her smaller size to her advantage. She laughs, the sound blending yet also clashing with the sound of two blades meeting in a bind. 

“You’re too arrogant,” Geralt says, pressing against her blade with more force. 

He smiles, a smile that’s all teeth, nearly feral looking. Visenya's arm begins to shake, her strength quickly dwindling. But before she can attempt to pull back, Geralt suddenly drops his blade, the lack of resistance causing Visenya to stumble forward. At the same time, he sweeps his leg out, her stumble morphing into a fall. 

Thud.

Visenya lands on her back, sword falling out of her hand. Without hesitation Geralt kicks it out of her reach, pointing his sword at her throat.

“It’ll get you killed.” His tone is grim, face set in a deep scowl. “--again,” he adds as an afterthought. Her confession from weeks ago is still fresh, pushed to the forefront of his mind every time he so much as glances at her. 

“Well if you didn’t play cheap,” Visenya says, minor annoyance etching a deep scowl onto her face. 

“There is no such thing as playing cheap when it comes to fighting. You either win or you don’t,” Geralt says, scolding her like a father would an unruly and stubborn child. But if he’s as old as Visenya thinks, she might as well be. 

“Whatever,” Visenya mutters, not moving from her position on the ground, instead she moves her gaze upwards. Threads of dawn emboss the sky, rays of pink and orange tinting it, their vivid colors offset by opalescent clouds. It’s quiet, nearly too quiet, if not for her rapid inhale and exhale of breath.   

“You’re good, but you’re too wild,” Geralt says. He tosses his blade aside, reaching a hand down to help her up. Her face flushes red from exerting too much energy, with breathes that're too quick, the spar taking more of her energy up than it should’ve. Then again, for years her only constant companion had been Jaskier, and he ended up pricking three of his fingers before even fully lifting a sword. That was the last time she attempted to arm him. 

“Don’t patronize me,” Visenya says, blowing away the stray hairs that fell out of her ponytail and onto her face. 

“I’m not. I’m giving advice. Besides--” Geralt looks over at her, the corners of his mouth slowly pulling into a grin. His slightly sharper teeth give his grin a wolfish appearance, predatory and mischievous in nature. “--when did you become such a sore loser?” Geralt teases.

“I don’t know, around the time you got slow,” Visenya responds, grabbing onto Geralt’s outstretched hand. But instead of using it to pull herself up, she yanks on it with all of her remaining strength, causing Geralt to tumble to the ground. 

His eyes are wide with bewilderment and shock, a small giggle bubbling from Visenya’s mouth, taking special notice of the green grass that mingles with his tangled white hair. Geralt scoffs, but there’s a small smile on his face that betrays his amusement, small droplets of dew on his hair that glisten in the sun, like tiny beams of light. 

Visenya sits up, repositioning herself to be more comfortable on the ground. Geralt follows suit, shaking his head like a dog. Brown twigs and emerald leaves fly in the air and disappear into the sea of green that’s now tinged with dark brown.

Geralt opens his mouth and laughs, it’s not overly loud and merry sounding, but it’s more than he normally gives. The sound echoes in the small clearing, dancing away in the wind to bless someone else’s ears with the soft sound. His eyes shine in the light, causing him to almost look ethereal. Visenya smiles, her heartbeat speeding up, ever so slightly, and for the life of her she can’t figure out why. 

“I meant it, you're improving,” Geralt says, placing his arms on his knees and staring at the trees that surround them. 

“Are you saying I was a bad swordsman before?” Visenya teases, the smile on her face quickly evaporates, however, when Geralt doesn’t return the mirth. She scoffs and smacks his arm. “You are saying I was a bad swordsman!” she exclaims, disbelief causing a small laugh to escape her mouth. Ser Rodrik trained her himself and before him, Jon. Two of the best swordsmen in the North trained her, a bad fighter is the absolute last thing Visenya would label herself as. 

“No, just...chaotic,” Geralt says, seemingly unbothered by her assault. 

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at him. 

“No, but it’s the truth. You fight well, but you fight without control or discipline.” Geralt says.

“So I’m unruly?” 

“Like a tornado or a wild animal,” Geralt says, a smirk on his face. Visenya rolls her eyes, smacking him once again - just for good measure. With a huff, she tightens her ponytail, pushing away the sweat coated baby hairs that stick to her forehead. She stands from the floor, walking towards the edge of the clearing where her leather bag is haphazardly resting against a tree. Crouching down and opening the main pouch, she pulls out two apples - one red and the other green. She tosses the red one in the air once, then launches it at Geralt as soon as it grazes her palm. He catches it with ease, not even bothering to look in her direction. Visenya smirks, taking a bite out of the remaining apple. 

“Would you believe me if I said I was raised by wolves?” Visenya asks. There’s a smirk on her lips, a gleam in her eyes that says she’s in on a joke that no one else knows. And she revels in it. 

“Yes,” Geralt simply replies, eyes wandering towards the sky, basking in the calm that seems so fleeting when on the road with a monster hunter. 

“Well, I choose to take both of those answers as a compliment. It just means I’m a force to be reckoned with in - and out - of combat. I think my ancestor and namesake would come back from the dead just to murder me if I wasn’t a half-decent fighter,” Visenya says, staring up at the thick canopy above her. She inches closer into the forest, not committing to entering it completely, but getting close enough. The singing of birds in the distance soothing to her ringing ears, allowing her thoughts to pause if only for a moment. 

“Hmm,” is Geralt’s only reply.

“She was a warrior queen, as comfortable in ringmail as she was in silks, as they say. She was legendary” Visenya says, wistfully staring into the trees, getting lost in the melancholy that usually follows when she thinks of her family. 

She remembers the stories her Septa would tell her, and the old dusty books she’d find in the library. She can nearly taste the old stale dust that coated the books, flying into the air once her fingers made contact. But she also remembers her eyes desperately drinking in each word, fantasizing that she was the one flying on a dragon, so high in the sky no one could touch her. 

Not Robert Baratheon, nor Tywin Lannister, not even The Mountain. But those were foolish daydreams of a child, who didn’t fully understand the nuances of things, nor how horrible some of her family truly had been. 

“And I was named after her. Sometimes I feel like I’m not worthy of it. It’s not like there are a dozen other idiots with the same name - who are more foolish than the last, not like Aegon or Viserys,” Visenya mutters to herself, hardly even registering that Geralt is still keenly listening to her ramblings. 

“I didn’t realize Jane was a family name,” Geralt says, his red apple still in hand, untouched. Visenya breathes out a laugh, the sound being swallowed by a strong gust of wind. 

“No of course not, it’s Vise--” Visenya starts, but closes her mouth, turning to face Geralt who watches her with a curious gaze. She coughs, glancing at the trees one last time before returning her gaze to Geralt. “How do you know it wasn’t my ancestors that made the name popular?” 

Geralt raises a brow, his expression showing how little he’s buying her pathetic save, but he doesn’t press the issue, thank the gods. Visenya continues biting into her apple, savoring not only each sweet bite but also the silence surrounding them.

“You’re light on your feet,” Geralt says after a moment. Visenya turns to look at him, a question on her face with raised ashen eyebrows. “Use that to your advantage. Most of your enemies will be much larger than you, bulkier. Which means they’re slower. Tire them out and run circles around them. You’ll never be able to beat them with brute force.” Geralt says, still looking towards the sky, eyes focusing on a particular bird.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

o0o0o

“So an alp?” Visenya says, tapping her fingers against the wooden surface of the table she sits at. Her posture is relaxed, languidly sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair. The room they’re renting is tiny, unbearably claustrophobic with the stench of stale air lingering in her nose at all hours. But it’s the only one in the small village, their size and lack of constant travelers not allowing for them to sink too much money in the rooms, opting to spend their coin on ale and food. At this point Visenya would rather stay in a brothel than here, at least they try to sell the idea of luxury and comfort - no matter how off the mark they may be. 

“Hmm,” Geralt grunts, tossing his leather bag across the room. Visenya watches as it glides through the air like a cannonball before landing with a loud thump on the bed. She returns her gaze to Geralt, who moves across the room, towards her, a pitcher of ale in hand. He sets it on the table, the force of it causing small droplets of ale to splatter onto the table. The fire in the corner of the room crackles, forcing itself into their conversation like a bothersome sibling. 

“Oh don’t tell me, I know this one. Let me see...alps are the ones who take humanoid forms to lure their victims and then they drink their blood until there’s nothing left, right? They also have the whole ‘saliva that puts its victims to sleep and can cause horrible nightmares’,” Visenya says, a slight smirk on her lips, eyes glowing with pride and self-satisfaction. 

“You already know you’re right,” Geralt says, a lilt of amusement in his otherwise deadpan tone. Visenya smirks, grabbing a mug and pouring ale into it, careful to not spill any. She sets the jug back down, throwing her cup back and downing nearly all of it. The amber liquid is bitter, not as smooth and sweet as Cintran ale. It burns and not in a pleasant way. Her face scrunches up, lips puckering and eyes firmly shut, forcing the remaining liquid to go down her throat and not out her mouth.

“I know, doesn’t mean I don’t like receiving validation,” Visenya remarks after managing to swallow the swill disguised as ale, glancing towards the sole window in the room. The sun is starting to set, and swiftly, night time will come before either of them have a chance to blink. Visenya pushes back her chair, the wood screeching against the floors. 

“Hmm,” Geralt simply replies, pouring a cup of ale for himself, and drinking it similarly as Visenya. However, he manages to keep any unpleasant expressions off his attractive face. Her eyes rest on his lips, gaze focusing on a droplet of ale that hangs precariously on his lips, nearly falling to the ground. A part of her wants to place her lips on his, to test if maybe the ale would be sweeter coming from his lips. But she snaps her eyes away quickly and banishes the thought, not wanting to linger on it for too long. 

“So where are we off to,” Visenya asks. She turns away from the table, grabbing her pack and beginning to shuffle around in it. “I can’t remember where they take residence, so I can’t be help there but--” Visenya starts to ramble, but Geralt cuts her short. 

“What do you mean?” Geralt asks, standing from his chair as well. Visenya turns around, her cloak in hand. 

“I mean, where are we going? We are planning on killing this alp aren’t we?” Visenya asks, raising a brow at Geralt. 

“I am going to kill the alp. You’re staying here,” Geralt says. His voice is stern, his mind set, leaving no room for argument. But Visenya has never been good at just sitting down and letting other people make decisions for her. 

“Are you serious? You’re trying to keep me out of this?” Visenya says, disbelief lacing every word. She laughs, a mocking one that lacks any warmth or humor.  

“You’re not ready for an alp,” Geralt says, maintaining his cool and unattached demeanor. Yet Visenya notices a faint twitch in his eye, annoyance with her constant need to question every choice he makes. 

“Not for a nightwraith either, apparently. Yet I helped kill that too,” Visenya says, her temper flaring, fire lacing her words.

“And almost died in the process,” Geralt says, his voice rising just a hair. Visenya scoffs, rolling her eyes, staring at the ceiling for a second before returning her gaze to Geralt. 

“Every situation that involves fighting also involves almost dying. That’s how fighting works, there’s always a chance you won’t come out alive,” Visenya says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“So you throw yourself into every fight, even the ones you don’t have the capabilities to win?” Geralt asks, sarcasm distorting his question. 

“Precisely,” Visenya says, turning away from Geralt and throwing her traveling cloak over her shoulder, clasping it so it’ll stay on properly. She grabs her bag and sword, slinging the bag over her shoulder and attaching her sheath to her hip. 

“You can throw yourself into suicide battles with someone else, you aren’t coming,” Geralt says, the volume of his voice continuing to rise. 

“Yes, I am. What’s the point of me being around if I’m not being useful?” Visenya exclaims, stepping towards Geralt. She feels like a child again, being scolded for wanting to learn how to fight rather than perfecting her needlepoint or sewing skills. 

“You can come on the next hunt,” Geralt says.

“That’s what you said last time, and the time before that, and the time before that!” Visenya yells, waving her arm in Geralt’s direction, emphasizing her anger and frustration.

“You weren’t ready any of those times!” Geralt counters. Visenya slams her fist against the wooden table, the impact causing the ale to nearly tip over. Pain blossoms on the spot that made contact with the table, but Visenya can’t be bothered by it at the moment. 

“Damn it Geralt! Apparently, I’ll never be ready according to you,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. The candles in the room wildly flicker, nearly going out as the temperature in the room drops, subtly at first, until it’s nearly as cold in the room as the outside. Heat rises in Visenya, growing stronger with each passing moment. The smell of burning fills the room, light smoke wafting from the table into the air. 

Like suddenly falling into ice, Visenya removes her hands from the table. There’s a clear burn mark in the vague shape of her fist, the wood lightly charred. She sighs, loudly, closing her eyes and relaxing her clenched fists. The warmth in the room returns, the candles flickering with life once more. Her heart pounds, mind completely blank. 

Silence. 

“I need air,” she mutters after a moment, not bothering to glance at Geralt. And before he can react, she flies out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

o0o0o

Night cloaks Visenya, hiding her from any prying eyes and wandering gazes that hold no good intentions. She pulls the cloak closer to her body, hood up and head down, eager to be free from this stifling small village. The air is cool, but it’s refreshing, easily tempering the fire in her. 

“Get it together, Visenya!” she whispers, smacking a hand against her forehead, hoping the sting from the pain might smack some reason into her. 

A child. That’s what she’s acting like. Screaming and throwing a tantrum when she doesn’t get what she wants. It’s irrational. And pathetic. Whining and crying won’t get Geralt to agree to let her come, but that doesn’t temper the frustration she feels when he won’t. She’s not a child, she’s a woman, who can make her own decisions. Why should Visenya need a keeper to tell her what battles to and not to get involved in? 

She continues marching forward, quickly leaving the village and all her anger behind. The grass is longer, instead of brushing against her ankles, it reaches the middle of her calves in certain spots. The trees are thick, their lush canopy of leaves acting like a guardian protecting her in their beauty. It’s almost like the Godswood, but not nearly as beautiful, yet it evokes similar feelings in her. She deeply inhales, releasing it a moment later, allowing her tense body to melt and fly off with the breeze. Subconsciously, her hand grazes the embroidered direwolf, lightly tracing it with the tip of her finger.

Snap.

A twig cracks, echoing in the silence. Visenya pauses, head snapping up, eyes raking the surrounding area. Nothing but towering trees with shadows acting as cloaks. She turns around, hand ghosting over her sheathed blade. Her breathing is quick and uneven, hands shaking ever so slightly. Her lip trembles and she bites down on it, unwilling to show signs of fear or weakness. 

“Who’s there?” she calls out. “Reveal yourself, now!” she demands, eyes scanning the path behind her. 

Silence.

She lets out a breath, watching as it appears only to dissipate into the cold air. She lowers her hand from her weapon, moving down the path she came from, eager for the warmth and light the tavern offers. 

Snap. 

She world around, gold eyes blazing like a fire in the thick of night. The forest seems endless, shadows dancing at the corner of Visenya’s vision, mocking her with deafening silence and blinding loneliness. 

“I said, who is there.” Her voice is stone, not allowing even a glimmer of fear to seep into it. It cuts through the darkness like a freshly sharpened knife, her voice echoing far beyond what vision can perceive. 

Snap.

Another twig, this time closer than the previous two. Like she’s made of air, Visenya quickly turns, but instead of stifling nothingness, a figure stands a few inches away. It’s a woman, with blood-like hair flows over her bare shoulders, the tips of it resting on its stomach. Her skin is pale, nearly grey in hue, but what’s most alarming isn’t her lack of clothing nor the murder in her eyes, but the blood splattered all over her. Some of it is dry, coating parts of her body like armor, while a few splatters appear to be fresh, still dripping off its body and splashing onto the ground. 

It smiles a twisted smile that perfectly displays all her sharp teeth, tinted crimson from the blood. 

An alp. 

“Fuck.”

They move in unison, Visenya unsheathing her blade as the woman - or creature - lunges forward. It proves to be faster, body-slamming her to the ground. Its hands grab a hold of Visenya’s nails digging into her flesh. She screams but clamps her mouth shut, not willing to feed the lust for blood and pain in the creature’s eyes. It snarls, pushing against Visenya’s arms with inhuman strength, pressing them onto the damp ground. It hisses, droplets of drool tainted with blood falling onto Visenya’s face. She thrashes, attempting to force the beast off of her. 

Her eyes feel heavy, suddenly, the desire to sleep and never wake up washing over her like a tsunami. But she fights against it. 

‘If I sleep now, I’m dead. Stay. Awake,’ she keeps repeating in her head, willing the words to manifest into reality. 

It hisses once more, almost mockingly. It leans down, inches away from sinking her teeth in Visenya’s throat. Visenya lifts her head, siphoning all the strength she can manage and smashes her forehead against the beast. It wails, falling back in pain, allowing Visenya to scramble out from under it. The creature continues to scream, the noise deafening. The sound causes her insides to twist and her head pound, to the point that she fears it might burst. She grabs the sides of her face with both hands, hoping to muffle the sound and make the pain stop. She closes her eyes, thoughts blurring together, as memories she only sees in her dreams fare to life in her head.

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Visenya of House Targaryen, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” Jaime Lannister’s face appears in her vision, a much younger version than the one she’d last seen. His gold hair is soft and thick, falling perfectly into place. He holds a wooden sword in one of his hands, resting the flat part of it on her shoulder.

Visenya giggles, the noise hazy and unclear. She stands from her kneeling position, curtseying to Jaime, stumbling forward, and nearly face planting. 

“Thank you, good ser,” she replies, a beaming smile on her childish face. He kneels, so his eyes meet hers. He holds out the small wooden sword, the size suited for a child of five. 

“Now go, protect your mother Queen. It is your duty as a sworn member of her Queensguard,” he says.

“Fuck!” she screams. She rapidly blinks, attempting to force the images away. There’s too much danger, too much at stake to lose focus for even a second. The creature prowls towards Visenya, grabbing onto her leg and pulling her body towards it. Like a sack of grain, her body drags in the mud towards the monster. Visenya is powerless to fight back, only able to pray that the pain in her mind and body will go away. The creature flips her body: back against the ground and face looking towards the sky. She kicks her legs, managing to miss the alp each time. Its hands continue to move up Visenya’s body as it pulls her closer. 

“Where are we going, Ser Jaime? Shouldn’t you be protecting my grandfather?” Visenya asks, rushing to keep up with Jaime’s longer strides. 

“I need to show you something,” he says, voice grim but not harsh, yet it lacks the mirth normally present. He stops outside a door, and in her desperation to catch up, she nearly smacks into his legs, but narrowly avoids it since Jaime stops her body. He opens the door, which creaks loudly as it swings fully open. They’re in a room Visenya is all too familiar with, her mother’s chambers.

“Why are we--” Visenya begins, but cuts herself off as Jaime moves into the room. He strides through it, eyes focusing on one wall in particular. She rushes after him, eyes alight with curiosity she needs to sate. 

He stops in front of a wall, crouching down. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t acknowledge Visenya, even as her smaller feet patter against the stone floor, getting closer to him. She pauses only when she stands beside Jaime, grabbing his arm with one hand, placing her small head on his armored shoulder. A wall, there’s nothing else there but a wall; yet his eyes trace it intently, searching for something she can’t see.

“A wall?” Visenya asks brows furrowed with a small pout on her lips.

“It’s not just a wall, look.” Jaime runs his hand down the wall, pausing on one spot. He digs his fingers into it, grasping onto… something. Visenya watches with wide eyes as a portion of the wall slides open, revealing a small opening in the wall - large enough to fit a child and no more. “A crawlspace.”

“Why’d you show me this? I don’t need to hide?” Visenya asks, tilting her head to the side in confusion. She turns and looks at Jaime, her nose twitching slightly as she looks up at him.

“You will. The war isn’t going well, and if the city is attacked I need you to promise you’ll hide here?” Jaime pleads, speaking in a hushed tone, keeping the words hidden in her mother’s chamber.

“I don’t--” Visenya starts, but is cut off before she can argue further. 

“Promise me,” Jaime says again, his voice more pleading and desperate. It’s a funny sight thinking back on it with adult eyes and a jaded mine: the lion begging for something, throwing aside all pride and appearances of regalness. 

Visenya hesitates, watching him carefully for a moment, eyes too sharp for a child of five. 

“I promise.” 

Visenya slams her head against the dirt ground, trying to get the distant memories out of her head, hoping to force her body to stay awake and not succumb to sleep. Long, sharp, dirtied nails grab a hold of her shirt, pulling up her upper body. It snarls, lunging its face towards Visenya’s neck. 

Searing hot pain spreads through her body. Yet it doesn’t leave her on fire, instead, it’s numbing like ice. Momentarily, the pain it’s screech caused is soothed, only to return tenfold. It’s like a million daggers are stabbing into her body, over and over again, in the dead of winter. She begins convulsing, screaming, louder than before. 

“Well, if it isn’t little Visenya. Look at you, you’re not a child anymore, no, you’re fully grown, fighting Robb Stark’s little war,” Jaime Lannister says, sarcasm and mocking lacing every word. He lifts his dirt-caked face, looking up at Visenya with wide green eyes that somehow manage to still sparkle, even in all the filth that surrounds them. 

“Shut up. I didn’t come here to talk to you,” Visenya says, keeping her voice as cool and calm as the winter winds. Her voice is low as to not alert any nearby guards, allowing the heavy wind to obscure most of her words. 

“Really? Come to just see the spectacle then? See the state of the man who killed your grandfather and ruined your life?” Jaime spits, but he lacks any real venom. He’s like a lion, trying to make himself appear as large as possible in hopes of avoiding real conflict. Visenya ignores him, however, moving closer into his cell without fear. 

“Or maybe you want to laugh?” Jaime mutters, banging his head against the post he’s chained to 

Silence is his only response. Visenya moves further into his cell, holding something cold and metal in her hands that glints in the moonlight. Once she’s within arm's length from Jaime, she crouches onto the ground, purple meeting green. 

“Well come one, don’t leave--” Jaime begins, but promptly shut his mouth, tightly clenching his jaw with furrowed brows. 

Thud.

The metal chains fall to the ground, inches away from Jaime. His eyes follow the chains that no longer bound him, lines of confusion appearing on his forehead underneath the dirt and blood on it. 

“Thank you, for my life,” Visenya mutters. Jaime moves his gaze back to her, and in her glossy eyes, he softens his armor - if only for a moment. Visenya begins to shake, like a leaf in a storm, remembering the simpler times that she ran around The Red Keep like a wild animal, and when Jaime Lannister wasn’t enemy number one to her family. Then like the wind, Visenya turns, quickly disappearing into the night.

She tries to headbutt the creature again, but she can’t move her head far enough to attempt it.

‘Fire, use fire!’ Visenya yells at herself, willing the flames that usually dance under her skin to flare to life. But nothing happens. She closes her eyes, focusing harder this time, trying to replicate the feelings swirling in her mind when she argued with Geralt. Tries to reign in the adrenaline from the Cintran Betrothal Feast or even the anger and grief she was drowning in at Blaviken. 

Nothing, not even a flicker of heat. 

She lets out a cry of frustration as the alp continues to drain her of blood. The world becomes dark, eyes heavier than previously. She continues to shake, trying to fight off the beast, even when her limbs feel like dead weight. Moments later, everything begins to feel light, the pain and fear slowly slipping away until she feels nothing at all. Eventually, her eyes flutter closed, the world turning black.

o0o0o

Tags: If your name is crossed out, it means I wasn’t able to tag you.

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[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone Who, Like it Or Not, Will Want You to Share a Little a Lot

BEING ALIVE Chapter 9

PREVIOUS CHAPTER   

A/N: This is my submission for @thatesqcrush​ kink bingo square praise!kink. Also this chapter went a lot different than I originally planned but it just hit me like a ton of bricks so I hope it’s clear what I’m going for. IDK time to flip the script a little! Also if you saw this posted and disappear it’s because tumblr hates me ok sorry

Content Warning: Smut (ahah) and vague mentions of past abuse (if you’ve been reading the story you know)

Word Count: 5k (sorry lol)

(also how did I never see this gif before fuck me)

“I got you something,” Rafael says. You’re in his office for a lunch break, making sure he eats the salad you’d made for him. Sometimes he still hates you. When you try and shove lettuce down his throat, well, that’s one of those times. But he knows it’s for his own good, like most things you do with him in mind.

“Ooh, we’re doing birthday gifts already?“ you ask, kissing his cheek. "I figured I’d see you later… you’re coming to the restaurant, right? I really don’t think Sonny knows what ‘surprise’ means, but hey. It’s nice of him and the squad.”

“Yes. I know all about it. He hasn’t left me alone for the past two weeks.”

“Nice to know someone cares about me,” you tease, and Rafael rolls his eyes.

“Well, anyway, I figured I’d see you at lunch today, so I brought this one thing with me. I wanted you to wear it tonight. Don’t worry, cariño, you have plenty of other gifts waiting for you at my place.”

“I told you not to go all out. I’m only turning 26. 35 is the next big one.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “35? I thought it was 30?”

"No. I think 30 will be just another one. Everyone makes it a big deal because it ends in a 0, but I don’t think it is. 35 is where the line is crossed. That’s when you’re officially middle-aged,” you say, grinning a little.

“Jesus, so what am I? Ancient?”

“No. You’re still middle-aged,” you giggle. “You’re getting there, though.”

“Mm. Right. Remind me why I spent money on you again?”

“Because…” you drawl, pulling him in by his tie to press your lips to his. And oh, it’s a mesmerizing kiss, like most of them are: one of your hands moves to the back of his head, pulling him in ever closer, and you’re slipping your tongue in his mouth, the acidic tinge of the vinaigrette you had been eating just the jolt he needed to get him to grasp for you. His hands slip under your shirt, earning a gasp from you, but Rafael remembers he’s in his office and the shades aren’t drawn and keeps his hands on your waist. You’re not close enough; you’re never close enough. “That’s why. Right?”

“Right. I forgot,” he snickers, pecking your lips. “Do you want your present or not?”

“Of course, honey.”

So he gets up and pulls out a jewelry box from his desk drawer, taking a deep breath, unsure of why he was so nervous. He smiles awkwardly, walking back over to the table and handing it to you.

“Open it, cariño.”

You do, your hands shaking a little as you unlatch the box, revealing a simple, delicate gold chain with an emerald pendant attached to it. You don’t say anything, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

“Do you not like it?” he asks, cursing himself. He should’ve asked you to pick something else out.

“Rafael, I can’t accept this. How much money was this? I can’t…”

“It doesn’t matter. I bought it for you, and I want you to have it. Do you like it, (y/n)?”

“I love it, Rafael, but it’s too much… I told you not to spend too much.”

Who was counting? He wasn’t above sharing his wealth that he’d worked to accrue. It was nice to be able to give, sometimes, and that was the expectation, wasn’t it? It was your birthday, he was your boyfriend, and he would be damned if he was outdone by anyone on the squad tonight.

"Just let me give this to you. Please,” he says. “And don’t cry.” God, you were always crying. Too much. You were an emotional person, and internalized everything, good or bad. He’d have to talk you out of ways you put yourself down frequently, but lately he’s been finding it hard to be bothered by it, because you’d smile after he smoothed out the knots in your mind, and kiss him like you meant it. “Stand up. Let me put it on.”

“Okay,” you whisper, nodding and getting up. “This is the nicest thing…anyone’s ever bought for me. Don’t think I don’t want it, Rafael, I do, but it’s… I was shocked at first. I don’t want to put you out.”

"Shh,” he says, taking the necklace out of the box and pushing your hair aside. He kisses the back of your neck, placing the necklace on your skin and clasping the hook.

“I like the pendant,” you say, fingering it between your pointer finger and thumb. “It reminds me of your eyes. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it. I’m not in the habit of buying jewelry, really. I never had anyone to buy anything for, so I didn’t know…”

“You have good taste,” you say, turning around and smiling, but then your face falls a little. “But… Rafael… how long?”

“How long what?”

“How long did you live like that? Alone? I mean, after Yelina, did you ever get that close again?”

He sighs, leaning against the table. He doesn’t want to divulge this, but at the same time he feels like he has to share. “There was a man. I was… 35,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “But we didn’t work out. Guess I didn’t get the memo that that’s when I was supposed to have my shit together. And I just… I just gave up after that. I had flings, but never got that close again.”

"Honey, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was only joking about the middle-age thing—“

Rafael waves his hand dismissively. “It’s fine, (y/n).”

“You sure?”

“Mm,” he says, putting an arm around your shoulder.

“Eight years is a long time, though.”

"It is… and if I ever seem distant, I don’t mean to be. I’m just used to being alone.”

“I don’t want you to ever get used to that again, honey,” you say, leaning against the table next to him. “You get used to me being here. Soy tuyo y… eres mio.”

He kisses you then, urgently. God, you were going to start talking to him in Spanish now? Even if all you knew was elementary level, he was a goner.

He doesn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, because Carisi’s knocking on the door. “Sorry to interrupt, Counselor, but I need to borrow the birthday girl,” he says, smiling brightly in that annoying way he always did. “We need her more than you right now.”

"What happened? I told Olivia an hour,” you ask, taking Rafael’s hand in your own as he pulls away from your mouth.

“Yeah, well, you know you can ask for an hour… but that doesn’t mean you’re gonna get it. She told me to come pick you up. We got a lead, and if you wanna get out by dinner…”

You roll your eyes at Sonny, then glance at Rafael. "Looks like I have to cut this short. Bye, honey,” you say, kissing him. “Make sure you eat your salad.”

“Yeah, Barba. Gotta get those greens in,” Carisi chuckles as you both give him a look. “What? It’s cute that you worry about his health. My ma, she’s always on my father about taking his meds, and she cooks for him, makes sure he goes for walks.”

“Well, I can’t have Rafael dying on me,” you say, putting on your coat. “I’d miss him too much.” You flash Rafael a smile, heading out with Carisi’s arm around your shoulder.

Sometimes he still feels a pang in his chest when he sees you with Carisi. Things seemed so easy between the two of you, so simple, like you’d been friends for decades as opposed to the months Carisi had been on the SVU. And Carisi was still annoying, God, the man never shut up about anything, and his off-color comments were more than eyebrow-raising at times. In some ways, Carisi was your work-husband, and Rafael supposes that’s to be expected. Partners got close, maybe even closer than some legal marriages.

Another reason why it was a sham. Right? Just because you didn’t have a ring on your finger or his last name didn’t mean you weren’t close to him.

But you could always be closer. Too close for comfort. Wake up next to him every day, brush your teeth in the bathroom next to him while he shaves, argue with him about not taking the trash out on time or something equally mundane. Sounds like hell. Sounds like monotony. Sounds like settling, maybe more on your part than his.

Because who would be able to marry you and call that settling?

Aside from the fact that marriage was always a risk for settling - because what are the odds you pick the right stranger off the streets of New York to bind yourself to for the rest of your life? Another hundred people were always getting off trains, getting on buses, leaving crowded streets to catch planes into or out of this city.

Rafael, though, he was always staying in the same place.

And, even though it may be insignificant in the grand scheme of things, the fact remains that somewhere on some paper in that precinct, your name is next to Carisi’s, billing you as partners. There was no such record of you and Rafael anywhere, not even a Facebook status. And that? From a legal standpoint, if one wanted to be crude, you two were nothing more than friends who fucked. Even if you did live together (which you didn’t) common law marriage wasn’t legal in New York.

So. Legally, if you went down that convoluted path, maybe you were closer to Carisi.

Rafael isn’t sure what to think about that. He’s over the jealousy; it’s been long enough now that he trusts you not to do anything stupid, and as much as Rafael hates to admit it he believes Carisi’s too set in his morals to even look at you suggestively. But it’s still something to think about, isn’t it?

——

“You look gorgeous,” Rafael whispers in your ear, helping you zip up your dress. You did; clad in a crushed velvet emerald long-sleeve number - yet another thing Rafael shelled out money for - and there’s a sense of pride in seeing it match perfectly with the necklace he’d gifted you earlier. “But I already can’t wait to bring you back here.”

“Mm, is that yet another present, honey?” you ask, pressing back against him. “You’ve really been spoiling me.”

“You’ve been a good girl. You deserve it,” he says, chuckling as you shiver.

“We’re gonna be late. Not nice to tease me,” you pout.

“I’ll make it up to you tenfold. Put your shoes on.”

The restaurant is nicer than Rafael thought the squad would pick out when they mentioned this idea to him a few weeks ago, but he has half a mind that they thought Rafael would help cover most of the bill. Which he did, as expected. Give a little, get a lot. Something like that. Like it or not, he’s dating the birthday girl, and he’s expected to be more giving than usual. By you, too, of course, even if you would never voice that assumption. He couldn’t very well buy himself suits that cost two grand for no reason and justify not spending the same amount or more on you on special occasions.

“Hey, happy birthday! Surprise!” Carisi says as you get to the table.

You roll your eyes at him before hugging him. “You said happy birthday to me, like, what? Twenty times today? It’s not a surprise anymore. But thank you.”

“Hey. Dream team. Had to do something for the best pardna in the world,” he says.

“Well, damn, Barba, you got (y/n) dressing to the nines too, now,” Amanda says when she sees you, smiling and squeezing your shoulder gently. “I feel underdressed now.”

“Nah, you look beautiful, Amanda,” you tell her, grinning back. “Blue’s your color.”

“Green’s definitely yours.”

This is the first time the whole squad has gone out with Rafael present since they found out for certain that the two of you were dating, and Rafael isn’t quite sure what to make of the atmosphere. He still feels excluded as the only lawyer present at a table full of detectives, and he thought maybe a known tie to you would change that, but it doesn’t, not much. Everyone falls into telling stories, and tonight they mostly concern you - but Rafael has none he wants to share even if maybe you expect him to contribute to the conversation.

What could he say that they didn’t already know?

Besides, what the hell did they think about him? He can only imagine what went through their heads once it was confirmed that he was dating you.

Isn’t he a little bit, well… too much of a smartass? Tacky, in the sense that he’s still that same kid from the barrio trying to fit in with the upper-class of New York with expensive suits and a brass ego? Old? Short? Aggressive (maybe more so passively)? Neurotic? Peculiar? Depressing?

God, he’s practically old enough to be your father.

Everyone was always trying to set you up with someone before they knew you weren’t single, whether it be Sonny with his Fordham buddies or Amanda with her men from god-knows-where or even Olivia one time with a sergeant from a different department. Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful, and beautiful people don’t stay single for long (unless, perhaps, if they were surly and standoffish, which you weren’t in the slightest). You’re a charmer, even if you don’t necessarily mean to be. A flirt without quite realizing it, without being too much of a threat. Pleasant to be around. Easy to like. A little shy, a little rough around the edges, a little stoic at first, sure, but that was easily overlooked and if someone put in the time, you were an open book.

It was easy to pity you. Maybe that shouldn’t be how he sees you, but sometimes he just can’t help but feel so damn bad given everything that’s happened to you. And he knows that’s how the squad feels too. Sure, you could handle yourself on your own, but no one wanted to let you. It’s in Olivia’s eyes when she looks at you sympathetically, it’s in Amanda’s hand when she squeezes your shoulder, it’s in Carisi’s insistence on putting himself in harms’ way so you wouldn’t ever have to take the fall: Poor baby. We’re the only tenderness you’ve ever known.

And maybe that’s true, maybe this squad was the only kind of lasting kindness you’d ever been shown. You don’t talk much about your past, and that’s fair, because Rafael doesn’t think there’s much that would be pleasant to recount. After the rape, middle school was difficult for you, as was to be expected, and you didn’t have many friends that stuck around. He’s never heard you say a word about high school, and sure, college was probably a lot better than the hell you’d been through before, but you had no one you kept in contact with from there, not even the woman you mentioned sleeping with before. Maybe life hasn’t handed you all the wrong cards: you’re gorgeous, you’re intelligent, you’re great at your job.

But in the interpersonal sphere, you’re lacking, maybe as sorely as Rafael, and that’s something he never quite thought about until now. You didn’t wear it like he did though, and you still had hope, somehow, whereas Rafael’s supplies of optimism had been used up over the years. Maybe one day you’d run out, too.

Leave it to Rafael to bring the melancholy to a birthday party.

But you wouldn’t bring the squad home; you couldn’t. On the nights you didn’t spend at Rafael’s or the nights he didn’t spend at your apartment, you were as alone as he was. He wonders, did you sit there and stare at the walls, struggle to sleep without him by your side… or did you not care?

“Honey, I was talking about you,” you say, giggling a little, and he feels your hand on his shoulder bring him back to the present. “You’ve been out of it, tonight, huh? Anyway, I was going to ask if you’d tell them about your theatre productions—“

“Oh, Jesus, (y/n), why the hell are you going to bring that shit up?” he asks, feeling a slight blush creep up his neck. “I told you about that in confidence.”

“Oh, come on. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, come on, Barba. She’s the birthday girl. You gotta do what she says,” Carisi chimes in.

Rafael glares at him and sighs. "Fine.”

“Floor is yours, Counselor,” Amanda says, winking. “Maybe you can sing for us, too.”

“Fine. I was in theatre in middle and high school. Happy?” he snaps. He knows he shouldn’t be so mean, and this was trivial, but he could do without the little jabs from the squad and your puppy-dog eyes.

“Why do you have to be like that, Rafi?” you ask. “Come on. Tell them the production in eighth grade.”

“This really means that much to you?“

"Will you just tell the story?” you ask. “No one will make fun of you, honey. I won’t let them.”

“Mm. Right. Well, my school couldn’t get the licensing rights to anything actually good that year for the Christmas musical… so we did A Christmas Peter Pan. It was about as awful as you think it would be.”

“What part did you play?” Olivia asks. Of course she’s the only one at the table who’s not tittering with laughter.

“I didn’t try out soon enough, and they didn’t have any parts left… so I played the crocodile.”

Amanda damn near spits out her drink, and Rafael rolls his eyes as Carisi laughs heartedly and Fin and Nick try and fail to not crack teasing smiles.

“I just really can’t picture that, Barba. Damn,” Carisi says after he calms down. “How bad was the costume?”

“What do you think a middle school theatre department could put together?” Rafael asks, narrowing his eyes. “Anyway. I didn’t have any lines, at least.”

“No, but you had three scary entrances,” you tease, grinning brightly and squeezing his shoulder. “Hey. It was your debut. I can’t wait until I get your mother to show me pictures—“

“Send them to me,” Amanda says. “I’m begging you.”

“I’m going to get my mother to burn that scrapbook before you’re ever in its vicinity,” Rafael mutters, chuckling.

“Aw, come on, honey, don’t be like that. You know I’d never let Amanda see them. Sonny, maybe—“

“Hey!” Amanda interjects while Rafael shoots you a withering look.

“No, I wouldn’t let him see them either. Some things are actually meant to be shared in confidence,” you laugh. “But anyway, Rafael went on to bigger and better things. He played Kenickie in Grease sophomore year, right? And you got the lead senior year?”

“Mm. Nathan Detroit. Guys and Dolls.”

“I have no idea what that is,” Carisi says.

“Of course you don’t,” Rafael retorts.

“It was a big part. He says his mother has a tape of that somewhere—“

“Are you trying to kill me, (y/n)?” Amanda asks exasperatedly. “The knowledge that that’s on film and I’ll never see it?”

“Mm. Deal with it. That’s not the one you wanna make fun of though,” you say. “Rafael can sing. He never will in front of you guys now, but he can.”

Right. Little things he’d shared with you, maybe without even meaning to, and now you could list them off as nonchalantly as if you were talking about yourself. Did any of his ex-lovers ever bother to learn all his amateur theatre roles front to back?

Thankfully, the waitress brings the cake over after a few minutes, saving him from more humiliation, and everyone, even Rafael, obliges and sings ‘Happy Birthday’ to you before you blow out the candles.

“Well, our blessings, (y/n),” Olivia says, grinning.

“Don’t tell your wish or it won’t come true,” Fin chuckles.

“Actually… I didn’t wish for anything,” you say, shrugging.

“What do you mean, you didn’t wish for anything?” Carisi asks.

“Tell, but lie,” Nick says.

“Nah. I’ve got everything I want. Thank you for including me in your thoughts, your lives—“

“Aww. Stay exactly as you are, (y/n),” Carisi says, reaching over to squeeze your hand. “What a sweetheart, huh, Barba?”

“Everyone adores you, (y/n),” Amanda laughs. “What an awful thing.”

Yeah. Everyone did adore you - but you weren’t an unshakable tenant in anyone’s life.

And, come to think of it, neither was Rafael. Rafael was always confused as to why the hell you even approached him all those months ago, flirted with him, got him to buy you dinner… but fuck, it was clear now. You were alone, grasping at straws just like he was. A couple months in the city you dreamed of living in since you were a child provided you with nothing more than acquaintances you worked and occasionally got drunk with, and maybe it was human nature to want more than that.

Yet here you were insisting that you didn’t wish for anything. What the hell? Didn’t you want more than what Rafael was giving you? Shouldn’t you?

Fuck if he knows. He’s not even sure what he wants anymore, never mind what you want.

——

Rafael has never been above sharing his body for someone else’s pleasure. It felt good to give in this regard, and fuck it, if anyone deserved to have a good, healthy sex life it was you.

It had been a long road to get you comfortable - yes, the first time you had sex with him you were more than a willing participant - but he’d notice sometimes when he initiated things, you would space out and become unresponsive. That was absolutely not going to work for him. He’s been prosecuting sex crimes long enough for that to turn his stomach in the worst way. The last thing he’d want is to take advantage of someone who was lying underneath him just because they thought it would appease him, not because they genuinely wanted to be there.

You got mad at him the first time he brought it up; said he was reading too much into things - but eventually you came around and admitted what had made you uncomfortable, what had turned you off, what had made you freeze, and what it came down to was years of trauma that no one had bothered to work through, not even yourself. What started with the rape went on to college boys who wouldn’t keep their hands to themselves and tried to pressure you when you weren’t ready - and you’d never quite learned to say no. You said you didn’t want to share this, didn’t want him to think you were some perpetual victim or that you didn’t enjoy sex - because you had had positive sexual experiences aside from Rafael, obviously - but sometimes all it took was a touch in the wrong place and you shut down. You still had issues here and there, but at least you’d actually fucking talk to him now, which was progress. He would’ve thought for an SVU detective with a psychology degree this wouldn’t be an issue, but maybe it’s how it goes - you put all your energy out there for the victims and you never learn how to unlearn your own toxic thought cycles and behaviors.

Also, Rafael learned, through trial and error, that you liked to be praised. Maybe it was after years of being ashamed of your body and sex, after years of feeling like you were inexperienced because you never met anyone worth having experiences with… but it was almost like you got off on it and Rafael wouldn’t really mind if that was the case. You are a good girl - his good girl - especially now, as he’s sitting at his desk chair in his apartment and you’re riding his thigh, your dress ridden up to your waist. Your lips are kiss-bruised and you’re so wet he can feel you seep through your panties to his dress pants.

Fuck it if you ruined them. Fuck it if you ruined him.

“Yes, good girl, you gonna get off on my thigh, (y/n)?” he asks, his voice low in your ear.

“I don’t know if I can,” you laugh. “Might need some assistance.”

“No, I think you can. Want you to try it. You think you’re close, mi buena chica?”

“Mm, don’t know. I didn’t think I was gonna have to work this hard on my birthday,” you say, leaning down to kiss his mouth. “Don’t you think those hands could be of good use somewhere?”

“Maybe. Where do you want them?“

"Mm, fucking everywhere,” you drawl.

For Rafael, sex was always just fun. Usually, it was better if he knew the person at least a little, but after Yelina, he didn’t care as much and was a little more of a libertine. Sex with you, though; it’s different - it’s a conversation - maybe like it’s supposed to be, sharing what you can’t or what you won’t say with words.

Maybe he should feel more flattered, because you were sharing a lot, too.

Rafael gives you what you want, though, cupping your breasts as he kisses you, murmuring words of encouragement in your ear in between - “Yes, just like that, you can do it, come for me, such a good girl, come on, cariño” - and when you do finally fall apart, he peppers your face with kisses. “See? I told you.”

“Mm. Sometimes you’re right,” you giggle, kissing the side of his mouth. “But I’m not working that hard for the next orgasm.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckles.

And you don’t; Rafael brings you over the edge with his tongue and fingers, but you’ve barely come down from your high before he’s on his back, at your mercy instead.

“What are you doing? Didn’t think you wanted to work for it anymore,” he teases as you press kisses on his chest.

“Nah, you’re gonna fuck me, hombre, but I want to do something for you first,” you purr, trailing down lower, lower, lower…

“It’s your birthday–”

“Mm. Yeah. But now I just guaranteed that you have to go down on me on yours,” you giggle. “No. We’re not counting favors here, right? Just let me.”

And you’re so good. You always are, but every time just seems to get better as you learn more of what he likes, what gets him off. He wonders vaguely if he you feel that way too, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on that as your lips wrap around his cock. “Fuck, so good, (y/n),” he hisses. If he wasn’t almost painfully hard before he definitely is now. “That’s it, oh fuck.”

One of your hands comes to cup his balls gently as your tongue and lips work his cock and it’s hard to remember that you were ever tentative giving him a blowjob before. Maybe that’s the thing about sex; everyone thinks they need experience to be a good lover, but maybe they don’t. Maybe they just need to listen to their partner. Rafael’s slept with people who have slept with countless numbers of people but no one’s ever learned his body like you, and your count was much lower. Granted, Rafael never quite allowed himself this type of vulnerability with anyone else in recent history, either, but it was only fair that if some of your walls came down some of his did as well.

Still, he has to make sure you know that by gasping out praise and encouragement, tangling his hands in your hair, being careful not to pull too harshly. “Fuck, so good at that, sucking my cock so good, se buena, mm, fuck.”

Eventually, though, Rafael can feel that he’s dangering the brink and has to stop you. Switching positions again - you’re on your back for him now - and he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, making sure you’re still good. With your consent, he enters you, groaning softly at finally feeling you wet and warm around his cock.

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” he grunts as he starts fucking in and out of you, slowly at first.

“I’d hope you think so,” you say.

“Think - no. You are. Fucking gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush a little and he can’t believe you still get flustered when he tells you that. But you are a vision - hair splayed on his pillow, your breasts heaving in tandem with your breath, your skin shining with a slight sheen of perspiration. Yeah. Fucking gorgeous.

And, oh fuck, now you’re clawing at his back, scratching with your nails. A shiver runs down his spine as he fucks into you harder, “That good?”

“Fuck, yeah, Rafael, fuck me,” you whine and he leans down to press a searing kiss to your mouth.

“Mm, so pretty, taking my cock so well, cosita bonita, so good for me,” he rasps in your ear.

You’re meeting him thrust for thrust; the only sounds Rafael can hear is the slap of skin on skin and his heart pounding in his ears as he kisses up and down your neck. “Mm, Rafael, feels so good,” you purr, and yeah, now he can see why you get off on those simple words of encouragement.

It’s not long before the two of you reach your highs and come down, a panting, tangled mess twisted up in his bedsheets. “Mm. Feliz cumpleaños, cariño.”

“Yeah, happy birthday to me,” you laugh, leaning over to snuggle against his chest. “Fuck, I’m exhausted now.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the old one.”

“Like you could go for another round right now.”

“Try me, mujer,” he chuckles. “Shower?”

“In a minute,” you giggle. “Let my heart rate come down a little.”

The two of you lay there in silence, your breathing rates settling while Rafael’s mind sets off to the races again. You were right, earlier, eight years was a fucking long time and it didn’t get any easier to be alone.

It doesn’t get any easier to be with someone, either, though, like when you wake him up too early in the morning and ruin his precious sleep, or when you make snide remarks that ruin his day and bruise his ego or, worst of all, as always: when you see right through him, like the front he puts up just doesn’t exist.

Maybe, though, maybe he’s a masochist because god forbid you leave. Here he was, carving out hours of his precious time; time he used to tell his mother he never had to spare, and sharing it with you. And you wanted him to.

Rafael doesn’t know what the hell to make of that.

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