#honestly the paper tension works in your favor for thoses

[beatriceportinari]

Origami jellyfish, one square sheet of elephant hide paper. Colors are inspired by Thysanostoma loriferum. Zoom in to see the glitter!

[maskedbyghost]

okaay, here's a longer fic about this, it was inspired by 'the hating game'. okay baaiii.

also look at this cute divider made by @gild-ui thank youuuu <33

MDNI!

The base always felt too small when Simon Riley was in the same room as you. Even with a desk separating you, his presence was suffocating, that familiar heat crawling up your neck every time his pen scratched against the paper. Two lieutenants forced to work side by side—Price’s brilliant idea. You hated every second of it.

And Simon wasn’t making it any easier.

“Maybe if you didn’t rush through the report like a rookie, it wouldn’t be full of mistakes,” you muttered, eyes fixed on the stack of papers in front of you.

“I don’t make mistakes,” Simon growled, his voice low, dangerous.

“You do when you’re trying to one-up me, Riley. It’s obvious you’re too focused on trying to be better than me rather than doing your job properly.” You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms as you stared at him sitting at the other side of the office.

“What’s obvious is you overthinking every damn thing,” he shot back, his gaze unwavering. The tension between you thickened as the seconds dragged on in silence.

You clenched your jaw. “If I wasn’t here, you’d screw up half the paperwork.”

He scoffed, shaking his head like you said something stupid. “You think you’re that important?”

You leaned forward, voice dropping just enough to sound like a challenge. “I know I am.”

For a moment, Simon just stared at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was trying to figure out if you actually believed the words coming out of your mouth.

You could see the muscles in his jaw tighten, his hand flexing against the edge of the desk. That’s one point in your favor.

And that’s how you would spend those hours together in the office—locked in a battle of wills. Simon was relentless, always firing back, always pushing your buttons in ways that had your blood boiling.

But you weren’t any better. You knew just how to get under his skin, how to make him scowl, make him grit his teeth in frustration.

It was almost a game at this point.

A twisted game where neither of you ever won, but neither of you ever backed down.

Sometimes, the silence between you was worse. On those days when words felt too heavy, too dangerous, you’d catch yourself stealing glances at him from across the room. Watching the way his hand gripped the pen a little too tightly. The way his shoulders tensed every time you so much as sighed.

He felt it too—this invisible pull, this heat that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting to boil over. You hated it. You hated him.

But that didn’t stop your eyes from lingering a second too long on the way his jaw clenched when he was concentrating. Or how his voice dropped to that gravelly tone whenever he was pissed off at you, which, honestly, was most of the time.

You’d stare at the clock, counting the hours until you could escape the office, escape him. But when the end of the day came, and you packed up your things, the idea of walking out and leaving him behind? It didn’t feel as satisfying as it should.

And the worst part was, Simon was starting to notice it too. You could tell by the way his eyes followed you when you left the room, just for a beat longer than usual. Like he was waiting for something to happen.

Something that neither of you wanted to admit was inevitable.

-

One day, while grabbing coffee, you overheard a conversation near the mess hall.

“Yeah, Lieutenant Riley never takes his mask off. It’s weird, honestly—no one’s ever seen his face,” one of the soldiers was saying.

Another chimed in, laughing. “Guy’s is literally a ghost, I swear.”

Never takes his mask off? That couldn’t be right. They were probably exaggerating.

But as you walked back to the office, you thought about it. Simon always had his mask off when you were working together. His face was just… there. Bare. Frustratingly close. You had memorized the angles of his face, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his mouth twisted into that infuriating smirk every time he thought he got the better of you.

And yet, apparently, no one else had seen it.

It didn’t make sense.

Why would he take his mask off in front of you, of all people? You were the one person he couldn’t stand.

Wouldn’t he want to hide his face from you too?

The question swirled around in your mind as you entered the office. You glanced at him from across the room. There he was, mask off, eyes focused on the documents in front of him. Just like always.

You couldn’t help but stare. It had become so normal, so routine, that you’d never even questioned it. But now it felt strange—like there was something you weren’t understanding.

And for the first time, you felt that heat in your chest morph into something different. Something closer to curiosity. You hated him, sure, but…

Why was he comfortable enough to show you his face?

You tried to shake it off, but as the hours ticked by, you couldn’t help but wonder. Maybe you had missed something. Maybe this… tension between you wasn’t just hatred after all.

Nope. It is. End of story.

-

If you weren’t stuck in the office together, there was always a mission that forced you to team up. And this mission had been a brutal one—hours of tension, pushing your body and mind to the brink. By the time you returned to the base, every muscle ached, and your throat felt like sandpaper. The adrenaline was still buzzing in your veins, but the exhaustion was creeping in fast.

You dropped your gear by the door, running a hand through your sweaty hair, trying to shake off the weight of it all.

Across the room, Simon was silent as always, stripping off his tactical vest without so much as a glance your way. Normally, the lack of acknowledgment would piss you off, like he was pretending you didn’t exist. But today, you didn’t have the energy to pick a fight. You just wanted a moment to breathe.

Just as you sat down, feeling the tension in your shoulders starting to ease, something flew through the air toward you. You blinked, catching it instinctively—a bottle of water.

Simon stood a few feet away, his face unreadable. He didn’t say a word, just resumed his routine, as if the small gesture didn’t mean anything.

But it did.

Coming from him, it felt almost significant, a crack in the cold, indifferent wall he always put up.

-

A few days later, another soldier swung by your office to drop off some paperwork, and as he handed it over, you exchanged a few lighthearted jokes. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Simon watching, his expression darkening as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

As soon as the soldier left, Simon’s glare was unmistakable. He didn’t even bother hiding it this time, the tension between you two cranking up a notch.

“You done playing the comedian?” he asked, his voice flat but carrying a sharp edge.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

Simon didn’t even look up from his paperwork. “Didn’t realize you needed to put on a show every time someone walked into the room.”

You scoffed, leaning back in your chair. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is being civil a crime now? Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Civil?” He finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing. “More like you were trying way too hard to impress him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone walks around with a permanent scowl, Riley. Some of us actually know how to interact with other human beings.”

He let out a low, sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, ‘cause flirting’s definitely the way to do that.”

Your mouth dropped open, a mix of shock and annoyance flooding you. “Flirting? Seriously? That’s what you think that was?”

He shrugged, his gaze flicking back to the papers in front of him. “Call it whatever you want. Just do it on your own time.”

You stared at him, once again letting his words frustrate you. “God, you’re unbelievable.”

-

The tension in the office was high as you and Simon argued again, this time about mission details. Papers were scattered across the desk, and the air was thick with frustration.

“You can’t just disregard the protocol like that!” you snapped.

Simon leaned back, crossing his arms. “And you can’t keep overanalyzing everything! Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts.”

“Instincts?” You shot him a look that could kill. “Is that what you call reckless decision-making? Because that’s how people get hurt.”

He stepped closer, his expression intense. “You think I don’t care about the team?”

“Right now, it looks like you’re more focused on proving you’re some kind of hero than actually doing your job,” you said, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, please! Don’t act like you’re the moral authority here,” he fired back, his voice rising. “You’re so busy trying to play it safe that you’re missing the bigger picture!”

You clenched your jaw, feeling your heart race with anger. “The bigger picture? You mean the one where you get us all killed because you refuse to follow my plan?”

Simon’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you both stood there, breathing heavily, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, as if a dam had broken, he surged forward, closing the distance between you.

“Maybe you need to realize that not everything goes according to plan,” he said, his voice low, intensity radiating off him. “Sometimes you have to adapt on the go.”

“And that’s supposed to justify your carelessness?” you shot back, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Carelessness? You think I’m careless?” His voice was sharp, but there was something deeper there, a flicker of something that made you hesitate. “You think you’re better than me just because you follow the rules?”

You glared at him, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “It’s not about being better. It’s about being smart.”

His gaze softened for just a moment, and in that moment, everything shifted. The air between you crackled with something more than anger, something raw and undeniable.

Before you had time to process it, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled you closer, closing the distance until there was barely any space left between you. Your heart raced, caught between surprise and something dangerous.

And then, without another word, his lips crashed against yours, igniting everything that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was fierce and urgent, a collision of emotions that sent your mind spinning. It was as if all the frustrations and tensions of the past had fused into this single moment, pouring into the way he held you, the way he kissed you.

You responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, and the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in a heated embrace, lost in a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. Everything felt right and completely wrong at the same time, but for that brief moment, nothing else mattered but the connection you shared.

When you pulled away, breathless and flushed, his hand still holding your neck, eyes dark and unreadable.

Finally, you smiled, breaking the tension. “Still hate you,” you whispered teasingly, leaning closer.

“Then you’re really going to hate how good this feels,” he shot back, his voice low, and before you could respond, he closed the distance again.

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

i think we need a smuty scene with these two. agree??

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@daydreamerwoah

[sanguinesorcery]

Fariah was not angry at the child. She was not the type to 'shoot the messenger', as the saying went. Messengers could work both ways, after all, and they could send a message as well as receive one. It made them useful. But she was also aware in her steely silence and razor-edged gaze that to the unacquainted, it could be mistaken as silent fury.

Rather, she was growing more and more distrustful of the King himself. For all her speculation on him being a general or soldier, he should have known better than to invite a foreign visitor unrelated to his current events into his home.

The audacity of the move darkened her face, not so much that she or Markesh could be in any sort of danger, but for the people of the delegation. They were innocent civilians, volunteers performing a sacred rite in their eyes to accompany their Imperial and spread their culture and lifestyle. The promises of skirmishes being far and away from the capital city were little comfort. Wars moved. Fighting shifted. A battle miles away could be on a doorstep in seconds, she was honestly surprised and perhaps a little distressed at the thought that the man had thought to extend a hand of friendship in turbulent times.

She couldn't help but feel as though he were trying to garner their favor. Seeking the alliance of someone perhaps more powerful than his current foe in a vie to end it without the extra blood on his hands.

Before Markesh could have a chance to slip in with some lighthearted comment that would smooth everything over and any slight that may have been perceived forgiven, she spoke. Slow and deliberate, a voice like fine bourbon, dark and rich. Almost musical in the undertones, but enough to feel sinister rather than calming.

"And they likely never will allow themselves to be absorbed. They sound prideful enough, they will need to be wiped out before they submit to anyone's rule. That is the unspoken rule of lasts, is it not Markesh."

The Regent nodded his head, still holding the pile of linens and towels as he nodded his head. "That is usually how it goes, death before dishonor." he said. "There have been a few of those in recent years back home..."

"Yes. A waste, but there are simply some cultures like that. They should be honored for such a difficult decision, not scorned. Be aware, though, child." The Empress shifted her head to once more lay eyes on the little maid, a chime and shimmer of fine metalwork to accompany the delicate movement. "Until the war is over, there is no such thing as a distant fight. You feel it from the battlefield, deep down in your core, a tension that never seems to ease until papers are signed and quiet befalls. One day, that fight may come to you. You should be prepared for it."

The reality was Sheik was not politically trained. He was just a boy that happened to be close to the Princess. He was privy to a lot of politics that other servants were not. However, no one had taught him that there was a certain art to politiking-- that what you didn't say mattered just as much as what you did.

Perhaps if they had, he would have been a little more careful with his words.

"Um, I'm not... sure..." Sheik's voice trailed off. Wouldn't it be seen as an insult to the guests to make them add to the food, "...I... I suppose if His Majesty has no issue with it. He wouldn't want you to feel that you needed to add to the spread since you are our most esteemed guests." Sheik was wildly trying to back pedal. Why did it feel like he was struggling in some type of elaborate spider web?

However, as he was about to say something else, Markesh's voice cut through the awkward silence like a knife.

"You mean the war is not yet over?"

And suddenly they were both staring at her, and Sheik feels like he's a lamb staring down two hungry wolves. He could feel his heart hammering in his ears. He was nothing in the face of their wrath.

Sheik found himself instinctively stepping backwards as if to put some distance between himself and the intense stares, his gaze immediately shooting to the floor.

"N..not... technically. Not from what I know, but any s..skirmishes are relegated to the outer areas of the desert where the Gerudo reside. T..they are the only ones who have not yet signed a treaty to be incorporated into the Kingdom of Hyrule." Sheik stammered out a reply, practically choking on the explanation in the process.

He wasn't sure what any of this information would be used for or if it could be used at all. Wasn't it just common knowledge at this point?

"It's... It's far away from the castle. It will pose no danger to your visit here."

[mandobatemans]

hi! i'd like to ask a one shot on jonathan levy in which y/n is a girl in her early 20's who's the sister of one of his best friends. they get to know through her brother and with time they develop a mutual attraction for each other, but none of them wants to make the first move because of the age gap. until one day with all the built up sexual tension and desire for each other they finally decide to act on it. and that's the start of a secret affair.

thanks x

Jonathan Levy x f!Reader

rating: 18+

warnings: cheating, age gap, unprotected sex, not proofread

word count: 1,169

also posted to ao3

You had never found discussion of philosophy particularly interesting—that is, until you met Jonathan. Even then, it wasn't the subject itself that intrigued you but the man speaking. This happened every time you were visiting your brother while he was there. You'd end up hanging on every single one of Jonathan’s words, your head resting in one of your hands. You were sure the way you looked at him was dreamlike and were surprised he hadn't mentioned it. From what your brother had said, Jonathan was married with a daughter, but you wouldn't have known it just from talking with him. He talked about his daughter, of course, but never about his wife. Your brother would ask about Mira and he’d mutter something before quickly changing the subject. Foolishly, this gave you hope. You had to be around 10 years his junior, and you were his best friend’s baby sister. There was no chance. So, you resigned yourself to longing looks at him across the dinner table or quick smiles in passing. 

Your brother had texted you the day after Jonathan had come over to his house, asking you for a favor. Jonathan had left a folder of work papers and was teaching at the university all day, and your brother and his partner both had work. That left you to deliver the folder. You should've been looking forward to doing the errand, but honestly, you were as nervous as fuck. Seeing Jonathan at your brother’s house was bad enough, but seeing him at work, dressed in those sweaters and jackets…it made your thoughts run rampant. When you got there, any remaining resolve you had went out the window. He was leaning back in the chair at his desk, alternating between chewing on the lid of a pen and biting his lip. 

Gently, you knocked at his office door and he looked up, smiling. He called your name and invited you in. “I, um, brought the stuff you left,” you said, waving the folder in your hands.

“Amazing, thank you. I really appreciate you doing this for me,” he took the folder and set it on his desk, gesturing toward a couch on the opposite side of the room. “Do you wanna sit?”

You nodded, following him to the couch, mirroring his actions as he crossed his legs. It was a small couch and you were hyper aware of where your thighs were touching. “No problem.” You looked around the office, noting a photo of his daughter but none of his wife. “Do y-”

“So-”

“Oh! I’m sorry, go ahead.”

He adjusted his glasses, “No, no, I was just going to ask how you were. I really do appreciate you bringing the folder back, I can’t believe I left it.

“It was really no trouble at all. I’m happy to help out a friend of my brother’s.”

Nodding, he looked away, fumbling with the wedding ring on his finger. You couldn’t help but eye it, noticing how the metal seemed to weigh down his hand. You weren’t sure what overcame you in that moment, but it felt like your body was operating outside of your mind as you grasped his hand in yours, pressing a kiss to the palm. You guided his hand to your thigh, searching his eyes for any protest. You found none. Delicately, you leaned in to kiss him, your confidence waning. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, pushing your head onto his lips with his other hand. The kiss was tongue, teeth, and saliva, not very romantic, but full of years of pent-up passion. He tangled his hand in your hair as the other trailed up your thigh, thumb rubbing against the skin there. “This okay?”

You moaned what sounded like a yes into his lips, bucking your hips off the couch to slip your panties off. 

“Wait, honey, hang on.” Jonathan pressed another kiss to your lips and stood to shut and lock the office door. As he walked back to you, he undid his belt, discarding it on the floor next to your underwear. He sat back next to you, pulling you onto his lap. Pressing kisses into your neck, he whispered how beautiful you were and how long he had dreamed of this. Embarrassingly so, his compliments made you more flushed than the fact that you were grinding your bare pussy onto the material of his pants. 

“Me too,” was all you could muster as you unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock from his underwear. 

Shifting his kisses to your lips, he helped you settle onto his length, hushing you as you whimpered at the stretch. He was big—just like all your fantasies had predicted. “You alright, angel?” 

You nodded, rolling your hips to urge him to start moving. He smiled into your lips, starting at a slow pace to help you get accustomed to his size. Once you confirmed that you were comfortable by shoving your tongue deeper into his throat, he growled, holding your hips in place so he could piston up into you. You almost screamed at the quick increase in pace, but it was lost in your throat. 

“Such a fuckin’ good girl,” he groaned, licking his fingers before rubbing circles on your clit. You silenced your moans by biting down on his shoulder, almost in tears by the force of your orgasm once you came. “Baby, I-”

“Inside,” you answered, smiling at the wicked look in his eye at your reply. A few moments later, he came, riding out his high by thrusting up into you a few more times. 

He smiled up at you, unable to resist kissing you again. “You did so good for me.” Jonathan tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear, watching as you pressed another kiss to his palm. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about this before.”

“Me either. I thought you wouldn’t be interested, me being your friend’s little sister and all.” You both ignored the elephant in the room. 

“I’ve always liked you. You’re sweet, funny, gorgeous.” He ran his hands up and down your body absentmindedly as he spoke. You chewed on your lip, struggling to find an excuse to see him again like this. “I, uh, hope you leave another folder at my brother’s house.”

Jonathan laughed, eyes crinkling. “Mm, I’m sure we can find a way to get you here again. Only if you’d like, of course. I want you to be comfortable-”

“Jonathan.” You held both his hands in yours, assuring him that you were perfectly comfortable. 

“Hey. Can I take you out to lunch? I have about an hour before my next class.”

“I’d like that. But we should probably, um…” You gestured to where you two were still joined and both laughed.

“I’ll get us something.” He pressed another kiss to your forehead and lifted you off him, crossing the room to find you a cloth. As you watched him, you were certain it wouldn’t be your last time seeing him like this.

tagging: @budcooper @aellynera @wasicskosgirl @foxilayde @autumnleaves1991-blog @abelslittlebunny

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?��

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[moldisgoodforyou]

on my mom's grave

wordcount: 3.7k

warnings: n/a

______

“How drunk do you think we’re going to get tonight?” Sophie asked, tipping back the last of a lemon White Claw as the two of them got ready for the night in her room.

“Dunno. I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

She paused, glancing back at him. “Do you not want to go?”

He shook his head and took the can from her, disappointed to realize there was nothing left. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m cool. Probably just won’t drink.”

“Is this about the phone call with your dad earlier?”

Rafe sighed, gritting his teeth. “It’s not - I’m fine, Soph.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him over, trying to get a read on his body language. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” After Rafe tugged his shirt over his head, ready much faster than Sophie, he paced around the room for a few seconds before speaking up. "Hey, so...Sarah's getting presented at the annual deb ball in spring."

Sophie seemed unbothered, turning her back to him as she wrestled her way into a crop top to get ready for the night. "Those are still a thing? Cool, so you're going home for it?" She paused, glancing over at him in his polo. "Undo another button."

He did so, then rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next.

She slowly turned back to him, realizing he was still tense across his shoulders. "What?"

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign he was nervous and Sophie wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Yeah...my dad wanted you to come home for it too."

"What? Ward? Why?"

"He, kinda, uh, wants you to be presented too?"

She just laughed, turning back to the mirror with her brow furrowed in slight concentration as she applied another coat of mascara. "Okay. Sure." But when he didn't elaborate, she turned back to him again, lips pursed. "Cameron. Tell me you told him no."

"...I didn't not not tell him no."

"Rafe."

He cracked under her stare. "I'm sorry, okay! Look, it's easy, all you have to do is throw on a pretty white dress and gloves -"

"A dress that costs thousands of dollars -"

"Hundreds, but - I'll cover you, obviously -"

"No." She turned back to the mirror, shaking her head. "Fuck no. I'm not going."

"Sophie." He nearly begged, stepping closer and running his hand through his hair. "Baby. C'mon."

"Don't call me that. No. I don’t fit into that part of your world.”

"Not even for me?" He pleaded, giving her a half-hearted grin. He ignored her last sentence, knowing any argument he had for her point would be dismissed in two seconds. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important, you know that."

She turned back to him with crossed arms, fixing him with a glare. "Do I know that?"

"Soph."

"Don't, Rafe." She warned, holding one hand out, but he stepped closer anyways.

"Angel. Please. For me." He forced a smile, tried cracking a joke. "I really don't want to have to call him up and get read the riot act."

She furrowed her brow and Rafe reached out and smoothed out the lines in between her eyebrows before he could stop himself, making her soften just a little. "If I were to say yes. What would I have to do?"

"Just wear the dress, attend a dinner, party the night before and party that night." He paused, thinking. "And stay at my house for the weekend. Be civil to my dad.” At her eyeroll, he fixed her with a more serious gaze. “Meet my grandparents. Hang with my sisters. C'mon, Wheezie adores you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. She thinks you're cool. Sarah too, but she’s less likely to admit it." He kissed her forehead, hands going to her waist. "Please?"

"It's that important?"

"I swear. On my mom's grave."

Sophie frowned immediately, reaching up to fix his hair. "That's not necessary."

"You'll do it?"

"...Yes." When he made a small fist pump, she fixed him with a glare. "Only because I love you."

“I'll go down on you every night for the next two weeks -”

She rolled her eyes at his promise, shoving lightly at his chest. "You basically already do that anyways, Rafe -”

"Okay, fine, I'll tie you up, something, anything, god, thank you, Soph. You don't know how big of a favor this is. I mean it." He sighed in relief, the tension draining from his body.

She ignored him, turning back to the mirror to apply lip gloss, carefully smearing the wand across her lips. “Why does he want me to do this? I don’t understand.”

“Is that the sticky stuff? I hate that stuff, it gets all over me when we’re kissing -” He started, then quickly shut his mouth as she flipped him off without looking. “Uh, ‘to integrate you into our society.’ Direct quote.”

“Oh god.” She groaned, setting the lip gloss aside after applying it, then started searching through her jewelry case. “So I’m gonna have to be on my best kook behavior?”

He snorted. “Sophie Flint, a kook. Not likely.”

“Watch it.” She pointed a warning finger in his face. “You don’t see anything weird with this? Your dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Rose does.”

“That’s not true either.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

He shrugged, relenting with a sigh. “You’re not her favorite person, no, but neither am I.”

“You think this was more her idea? For Sarah to do it too?”

“Nah, actually, pretty sure it was my grandparents’ idea. Probably Granddad. My mom went through all this, so…”

She turned her back to him and gathered her hair, offering the clasp of her gold chain to him. “Your mom was a debutante?” She questioned with interest.

_______

Rafe rarely ever talked about his mom - Sophie had only found out how she died from a newspaper article in the online archives, and hadn’t wanted to bring it up since. All she knew was that Mrs. Cameron had passed away in a car accident when Rafe was fourteen.

Both Sophie and Rafe’s schools shared a building, despite them going to private academies, and overlapped for certain advanced placement classes. In freshman year, they were together for AP chemistry, with Sophie sitting proudly at the front of the class while Rafe sat in the back with a group of his friends, often cracking jokes at inappropriate times or throwing wads of paper at each other. Freshman year Sophie was the epitome of stuck-up - she resorted to insults instead of making friends and kept to herself, terrified someone might find out that she was on scholarship and wasn’t truly meant to be there.

The day after the car accident, Rafe was unusually quiet. Sophie hadn’t heard the news yet, it was barely second period and she wasn’t looped into the trail of gossip like the rest of the girls at Greenville. They were partnered for an experiment that day - Rafe had groaned when he heard Sophie’s name after his from the teacher, and Sophie barely suppressed a roll of her eyes. She took charge right away, getting all the supplies and set up their work station without even addressing him. After a few minutes, she slid the small glass of solution to Rafe, raising her eyebrows. “You can do the work too, you know.”

He was completely spaced out, only glancing up when she said something. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, lifting a beaker and extending it to him. “Yeah. I know. Just drop in 10 milliliters of the solution, it’s not hard.”

Rafe sighed as he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, rubbing his temples. “Look, can you just do it?”

She finally took note of the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slumped, but misinterpreted it all. She smirked, taking on a taunting tone. “What, you’re still drunk from last night or something?”

He gritted his jaw, his entire body growing tense, and tugged at the collar of his polo. “Fuck off, Flint. Not in the mood today.”

She recoiled immediately, setting the beaker down with a little too much force. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” He spit back, standing abruptly. She winced as the stool squeaked across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention - as if they hadn’t had it already. Kelce stepped over and went to grab Rafe’s arm, possibly pull him away, but Rafe just wrenched his arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” He growled, storming out of the classroom without looking back.

After a few moments of stunned silence, with Sophie on the verge of shocked tears, their teacher cleared her throat and redirected everyone’s attention, pointing one of the girls over to join Sophie instead. Molly made her way over, occupying Rafe’s seat in the space across from her. “Poor Rafe,” she murmured.

Sophie frowned, pulling her jacket tighter across her chest like a shield of armor. “Poor Rafe? What?”

Molly nodded, lowering her voice a little. “Yeah, you didn’t hear? I’m surprised he’s at school, honestly.”

“I didn’t...what happened?”

“Oh.” Molly frowned. “Um. You know that winding road, the one that goes downhill toward the ballet studio?”

Sophie didn’t, she didn’t even have a clue - the ballet studio was on the entire opposite side of the island from where she lived, the height of Figure 8, and she hadn’t ever had a reason to even venture that way. “Yeah? What does that have to do with Rafe?”

“Um, well, it was pouring last night, and his mom was driving down that road. I heard she lost control of the car and wrecked it. There was, like, a drunk driver that swerved into her lane, but she tried to avoid him and hit a tree.” Molly told her, careful on the details.

“I’m pretty sure the Camerons can replace a car.” Sophie replied, not wanting Molly to confirm where she thought she was going with the story. She dug her nails into the skin of her thigh anyways, feeling anxiety bubble up in her chest.

Molly shook her head, slowly. “Mrs. Cameron died, Sophie.”

Her heart dropped and she bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the sirens last night, I saw like eight police cars last night headed toward his house. I heard Sarah was in the car too, I think -”

“Is Sarah okay?” She couldn’t concentrate on anything but her ears ringing, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh, yeah, I think so. But god, how awful, right? The funeral is next weekend, Ward Cameron told my dad this morning. Is your family going?”

“Um...I don’t know.” Sophie glanced toward the door, hoping to god he would come back through the door and Molly would confess that it was all a joke, that she hadn’t just started something with Rafe on that day of all days.

________

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course she was. I think she really enjoyed it, actually, she’d always tell Sarah when she was little about how pretty she would look in the dress, how important it was to learn the right etiquette and -” He cut himself off, realizing he was sharing too much, and deftly fastened the clasp before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting her step away. “All that.”

“Huh.”

He smiled to himself, thinking about how his mom would let little Sarah play dress up in her old ballgown with gloves that went up to her armpits, wobbling around in high heels twice the size of her feet. His mom would tell Rafe he’d have to watch out for Sarah with her escort, keep him in line, and that when he was in college he’d be presenting a girl as well. But he was nine and didn’t think of girls in that way quite yet, so he always scowled and left the room.

“It’s kind of cool, I think. The tradition of it all.”

“The ball? Have you been?” She caught his eye in the mirror as she adjusted her top, not wanting to push for too much information before he’d shut down altogether.

“No...I was gonna present Brooklyn at the one here in Columbus, sophomore year’s normally when the girl gets presented, but. Yeah. No, I meant, it’s kind of cool that you’ll be doing something my mom did.” He rubbed the back of his neck, meeting her gaze for a moment then looked away.

“Yeah?”

“She would have liked you. I know it.”

Sophie perked up a little, cocking her head. “You really mean it?”

“Yeah. She would have liked that you have an attitude with me.” He grinned when she turned back around and took his hand, tugging him over to sit on the bed next to her. “She was always saying I needed to find someone to match my energy, keep me in check. I wish she could have met you.”

“I did meet her. Once.”

He perked up, cocking his head. “You did?”

“Yeah, I served her when I was working at the restaurant at the country club once, I was only fourteen. I remember she made some comment about me being too young to work and I told her I liked it. Then she asked my name, and I remember she seemed like she knew already when I told her.” Sophie nodded. “She was really nice, left way too big of a tip and wrote my name on the bill. I always thought that was funny.”

Of course she knew, Rafe thought as he smiled to himself. She knew, because Rafe had come home and complained about a girl getting on his nerves every single week since seventh grade. She knew, when the complaints turned to “why won’t just be nice to me” and his mom had quipped that Sophie probably liked him - he had scoffed and walked away. She knew, because his mom had come home from the country club and told him Sophie Flint was a much nicer girl than Rafe painted her to be, and Rafe had immediately turned bright red and been embarrassed that his mom sought her out.

“I like that.” She leaned into him, taking his hand to play with his rings. “Will your grandparents be there? At the ball?”

“Oh, yeah. They sit on the board, I’m pretty sure, it’s this gigantic charity event. I’ll introduce you, but don’t worry, they’re chill. Nothing like my dad.” He adjusted himself so she was comfortable, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, treading carefully. “I thought your dad grew up on the Cut.”

“He did. But my mom, no way. Kook through and through. That’s, uh, where a lot of my trust is from. After she died, um. She wanted to be sure me and Sarah were set.” He shrugged, ears turning red as he felt his throat getting tight.

Sophie frowned, feeling him closing off, and leaned closer to hug him, arms wrapped tight around his waist. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff whenever, Rafe? I’d like to hear more about your mom. She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.” He nodded, settling his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, Soph. This is a really big deal to me, that you’ll go. I know it’s not your scene.”

“Love you.” She murmured. “You’d better buy me a pretty dress.”

He laughed, leaning back just enough to tip up her chin with one finger and kiss her. “You’ll be the best looking one there. I swear.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Okay, okay, big head -”

She swatted his arm, laughing as she ducked out from under him. “Watch it, or I won’t go -”

“I was kidding!” He exclaimed, wrestling with her for a moment before grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head.

Sophie sucked in a breath, caught off guard. “We are going to be late.”

“We’re already late.” He pointed out, taking a moment to realize the lack of innocence in the position, then slowly smirked. “We could be later. They’re not gonna miss us.”

“Rafe.”

“Sophie.”

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

She just gave him a look, staring him dead in the eyes and willing herself not to react when he leaned down with a grin and kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Please?”

“Fine. The ball or sex right now. You choose.” She raised her eyebrows, arching her back a little on purpose, pressing her hips up against his.

“That’s not fair.” He frowned, immediately shifting his hips away and moving so both his knees were on either side of her instead. “This is blackmail.”

“Your choice.” She reminded him, biting her lip for good measure.

He faltered, sitting back on her thighs and letting go of her wrists. “Soph, it’s - it’s for my mom. I swear. Not for my dad, Rose, anyone else.”

Sophie dropped the teasing act right away, propping herself up on her elbows. “Right, right, sorry. I won’t push it.”

“It’s alright.” He climbed off her, standing, and offered his hands. “Five bucks James makes some joke about us being late because we were having sex.”

“I’m not taking you up on that.” She rolled her eyes, accepting his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Love you long time, Cameron.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, favorite girl.”

“What do the dresses look like?”

“Uh...white?” Rafe shrugged, tugging on her hand to get her to follow him downstairs. “I dunno. When we go home for Thanksgiving I’ll book you an appointment to get fitted, I think it’s at some bridal shop on the mainland.”

“Sounds expensive.” She muttered, shaking her head.

“It’s…yeah. It’s not cheap.” He admitted, then shrugged as she followed him out the door, starting their walk toward the bars. “I’ll take care of it though. All of it. By the way, have you booked your flight home for Thanksgiving yet?”

“Um...no. I was going to look this week, it’s probably too late now though.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? Why, are you going home?”

Rafe nodded, not looking her in the eye. “Taking the plane.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“The plane...that no one else will be on...and it’s kinda ridiculous for you to waste money and carbon emissions on a separate flight…” He tried convincing her, a small smile playing on his lips as she rolled her eyes.

“You need to learn how carbon emissions work if you’re going to use that as an argument with me.”

“So that’s a no to sex on the plane?”

Sophie stopped in her tracks, confused. “That wasn’t - Rafe, what?”

“You, me, alone on the plane. Sorry, was I not clear enough?”

“I didn’t even say yes -”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me all by myself on our one-year anniversary -”

She raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “When’s our anniversary, Rafe?”

He raised his back, stopping on the sidewalk to face her. “On my terms or yours? Because if we’re going with mine, it’s Halloween -”

“No, I had to ask you to be my boyfriend, it’s November 18th -”

“That is such an arbitrary thing, Sophie -”

“Hey! Stop stealing my vocabulary.” She interjected, pushing at his chest. “It’s the 18th, because I had to ask you out.”

“Okay. Whatever story makes you happy.” He shrugged, laughing when she shoved at him again. “Come on the plane with me.”

“...Fine. Only because I don’t want to miss our class reunion party on Wednesday night, I’m pretty sure some people still don’t believe we’re together.”

Rafe laughed loud at that, looping his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “Pretty sure Topper still thinks it’s all an elaborate lie.”

“Does he know that we nearly hooked up in his room last winter break?”

“No.” He grinned. “Are you forgetting that you had to sprint into his bathroom right when I was about to kiss you because of some tequila thing you had?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re remembering wrong. That was sophomore year, before we were dating, I barely drank last year...you almost kissed me?”

“What? No, I think...remember, we were arguing over something, then you whispered in my ear to go up to his room and left. I went up a couple minutes later.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to make a move, Brooklyn and I were together then.”

Sophie scowled at the mention of Brooklyn. “I must have been hammered, I don’t remember any of this.”

“You wanted me.” He smirked, trailing his fingers along her collarbone. “One might say desperate.”

“No, no. All I remember is waking up in Topper’s bed feeling like shit, I had some crewneck on from your academy.” She ignored the blush creeping up her neck.

“How do you think you got there and got the sweatshirt?” He frowned. “I took care of you, Sophie. You really don’t remember?”

“I think I blacked out.” She confessed, shaking her head. “You took care of me?”

“Of course I did. Plus, I thought I was about to get some, I would have done anything for you.” He grinned, laughing when she shoved his shoulder. “Really thought that was the night I’d finally win you over.”

“Yeah, well, you can blame Sarah for her heavy pour that night.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “I really wish I remembered that.”

“I wish you remembered too. Maybe you would have given me a chance before then instead of setting me up with Julia.”

“I - no! She asked to be set up with you, no, I did not instigate that at all.” She defended herself straightaway, cheeks flushing pink. “She said if I wasn’t going to make a move, then she was going to.”

“Sure. Whatever you believe.” He teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they arrived at the bar. “Hey, Soph.”

She rolled her eyes, going to get in the winding line outside until he tugged her wrist back, pulling her to his chest. “What?”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Sophie softened, smiling as she rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Of course, baby. I’ve got your back.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

[bbyannabeth]

hello hello, i just posted this fic right now.

below the cut is an alternate ending to the fic because i hate writing angst and i needed some serotonin. but please read the fic before reading the alt. ending<3

-

Getting to the Underworld was a lot easier when she had a child of Hades as her friend. Nico shadow traveled with her to his father’s palace, leaving them right outside the doors. “Thank you,” she said, staring up at the doors.

“No problem. You sure you want me to leave, though?” he asked. Annabeth nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. She had Mrs. O’Leary’s whistle in her pocket. Technically that was Percy’s possession, but the hellhound had always loved her too so she hoped it would still work.

“Okay,” Nico said quietly, somewhat awkward. “See you later, then.”

“Bye,” she replied, and then she was alone. Taking one heavy breath, Annabeth pushed through the doors of the palace.  “Lord Hades!” she yelled, walking in.

He materialized in front of her. “What a nice surprise,” he said, his voice flat. “I love screaming children bursting into my home.”

“My apologies, my Lord. You know why I’m here, though.”

“I do,” Hades said. “But I can’t help you.”

He started to walk away but Annabeth followed. “Yes, you can!” she protested. “Percy saved the Gods, he saved you. He’s the only reason Camp Halfblood accepts Nico. He deserves a better life than what he got.”

“He… he made his choices,” he said, though he didn’t sound confident. It reminded her of what her mother said. Annabeth thought that was bullshit. He made his choices based on the circumstances. He would’ve never willingly chosen this life to begin with, none of them would.

“Do it to spite Zeus, then,” she tried. “This eternal feud with your brothers – this would piss them off pretty good!”

Hades stopped, like he was considering it. The silence grew longer and Annabeth was almost worried she’d crossed some line. But then he turned.

“Okay.”

She blinked. “Okay?” she asked.

Hades nodded. “You make good points. He saved us and he’s befriended Nico, I do appreciate those things,” he said. He grinned, a sight that sent shivers up her spine. His smile had an unintentional (or at least she hoped it was unintentional) evil to it that she didn’t like. “And it would be very satisfying to anger my brothers.”

Annabeth was stunned. This has been her entire goal but she was shocked it had actually worked. After what happened on Olympus, she had expected to walk out of there empty-handed.

“Th-thank you, Lord Hades,” she stuttered. “I can’t thank you enough. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

He nodded once before flicking his wrist. In a cloud of dark smoke, Percy appeared in the room with them. He was translucent but other than that, he looked just as he had before. Hades held up a hand to stop her from rushing forward. “You’ll walk right through him,” he said with a dark chuckle.

Percy stared at her, disoriented. Hades flicked his wrist again and Percy jolted, his body becoming solid again. Annabeth looked at Hades, who then rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Annabeth launched forward, tackling Percy in a hug. He was still confused but his arms tightened around her. “Oh my Gods,” she mumbled. “I got you. You’re safe.”

“Annabeth?” he whispered, starting to regain his senses. She stepped back to cup his face.

“Yeah, Perce. It’s me. You’re safe.”

“I don’t,” he trailed off, blinking at Hades. “You brought me back?”

“Your girlfriend was very insistent,” he replied with a shrug. Annabeth almost laughed. Percy blinked again.

“Thank you, Lord Hades,” he stuttered. “Thank you so much.”

The God nodded. “If you die again, you’re on your own,” he said with a smile. Another twisted-looking one that made Annabeth shiver.

She hugged Percy close again and they heard Hades sigh. “Okay, you guys are gross,” he said. It almost sounded like he was… teasing them? Annabeth laughed quietly, her cheeks flushing as she stepped back.

“Thank you again, my Lord,” she said. “We’re indebted to you.”

“Considering it a favor,” he replied. “Now get out of here.”

His wrists flicked and Annabeth was suddenly enveloped in darkness. Her eyes fluttered open, and she and Percy were standing at the New York entrance to the Underworld. With a delirious laugh, she tackled him in another hug. One that sent them sprawling into the grass. “Oh my fucking Gods,” she said, pulling him as close as she could.

“Annabeth,” he murmured, digging his face into her neck. She pulled back enough to cup his face.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he replied, staring up at her in awe. “You got me out, Beth.”

“I know,” she said. Her emotions started to creep back up her throat and suddenly she was crying again. “But still. You- you died. That-“

“Wasn’t your fault,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Annabeth pressed her forehead to his. “I couldn’t do this life without you. I didn’t want to.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

Annabeth sniffled and nodded before standing up, pulling him with her. “We should go see your mom,” she said. Percy’s eyes widened and something in him broke.

“Yeah,” he agreed. They walked there and she told him everything that had happened the past week or so. Getting out of Tartarus, defeating Gaia, visiting Sally, and then storming Olympus. He listened silently, their hands locked between them. Part of her was afraid to let go, as though this were some dream and he’d vanish if she released him.

They were stepping into the elevator, going up to the fourth floor, when Percy let out a quiet breath. “Why am I nervous?” he whispered. “It’s my mom.”

“You haven’t seen her in months, Perce,” Annabeth replied gently. “It’ll be okay.”

“Did you visit her much while I was… gone?” he asked. Annabeth nodded.

“At least once a week before our quest,” she said, a small smile gracing her features. She and Sally had gotten extremely close over the course of Percy’s disappearance. “I even slept in your bed a few nights because I had accidentally ended up staying later than I meant.”

He laughed quietly and dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered. “You probably helped her so much.”

“She helped me,” Annabeth replied. In those months, seeing Sally had kept Annabeth from slipping away entirely. Sally made sure she stayed fed and well. If it hadn’t been for her, Annabeth would’ve withered away.

“I love you.”

Annabeth smiled and as the doors opened, she quickly tilted her head up to kiss him softly. “I love you, too.”

She took his hand again and they walked through the halls. Stopping in front of the door, Annabeth looked up at him. He lifted his hand, paused for just a brief second, and then knocked on the door. Annabeth held his other hand tight as they waited.

The door opened and then Sally Jackson was in front of them. Her hair was in a loose bun and her eyes were red. She stared at Percy, who was crying again. Honestly, Annabeth felt a bit like crying herself. “Mom,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

In an instant, their arms were wrapped around each other. It was a little funny now that Percy was taller, but that didn’t stop Annabeth from tearing up.

“My baby,” Sally murmured. “I love you so much, oh Gods.”

Annabeth saw Percy’s shoulders shake with silent sobs. Sally’s eyes opened just for a second, but she caught sight of Annabeth and regained enough sense to pull away. “Come inside, let’s get out of the hall.”

They were ushered inside and Percy was being wrapped up in another tight hug. Annabeth excused herself quietly, trailing down to the bathroom to wipe her tears away. She was so overwhelmed with emotion and she wanted to give them a moment alone.

When she returned, they had seemingly just broken apart. Sally turned that warm, loving gaze on Annabeth now and swept her up a hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she said, and Annabeth melted. And then, much quieter, Sally whispered, “Thank you.”

Annabeth nodded and hugged her tighter. She caught Percy’s eye over Sally’s shoulder and he smiled at her. His mother had always loved Annabeth, but it must’ve been interesting to see how much closer they had gotten over the last year. Sally pulled away and looked at both of them.

“Well,” she said, huffing out a disbelieving laugh as she wiped her tears. “We should order some pizza and talk. Paul will be home in about an hour.”

They sat in the living room, Annabeth tucked into Percy’s side and she told Sally about what happened on Olympus and in the Underworld. She looked impressed at Annabeth’s determination. “Well,” Sally said with a gentle laugh. “At least I know I can count on you to take care of him.”

Annabeth wanted to cry. She had always been the one who was supposed to take care of Percy, and yet she had let him die. Instead of crying, because Gods, was she tired of it, she lifted her eyes to Percy. He was already looking back at her.

“Yeah, someone has to,” she said softly. Percy kissed her head.

“I’m glad it’s you, then,” he whispered.

Just then, the door opened and Percy tensed. “Honey?” Paul called out and Sally smiled.

“In the living room.”

“Did you end up…” he trailed off when he entered the room and his eyes landed on Percy. His bag, filled with school papers and his laptop, fell to the ground. “P-Percy?”

In a flash, Percy was off the couch and pulled into another hug. He and Paul had always been decently close, with maybe a hint of natural awkwardness settled between them. After being gone for so long, though, any residual tension had disappeared and they both seemed perfectly comfortable in a hug.

When Paul finally pulled back, he looked at Percy, then Annabeth, then Sally. “I don’t… understand.”

Sally laughed gently. Her mood had improved greatly since they had gotten to the apartment, for obvious reasons. “Come sit,” she said.

Halfway through retelling the story, the pizza got there and Sally brought it into the living room for all of them to dig into. Afterward, Paul nodded slowly. “This was definitely an interesting family to marry into.”

Annabeth laughed quietly and leaned further into Percy. She only had the stomach capacity for a single slice of pizza right now, despite not eating nearly enough the past few months. In a moment of bravery, she tilted her head up to brush her lips against his ear. “Good thing I’m already used to how crazy this family can be.”

His eyes snapped to hers and she smiled slowly. She remembered what he’d said about New Rome, how demigods could grow up, get married and start families. She wanted that with him and she wanted to be sure he knew that. Judging by the way he kissed her, in full view of his parents, she was fairly confident that he knew.

They stayed there on the couches for a while, catching up. Conversation rarely ceased and Annabeth smiled more in those couple hours than she had in the last six months. It was only about 8:30 when Percy had yawned for the millionth time. “Tired?” she asked gently.

He nodded, leaning against. She looked at Sally. “This one is about to pass out on me,” Annabeth said, nudging Percy who hummed. “We’re gonna head to bed.”

“Okay,” Sally said before getting up with them and wrapping Percy in another hug. Annabeth heard her whisper, “I’m glad you’re home,” to Percy.

“Me too,” he replied before pulling back. Sally didn’t hesitate to hug Annabeth again.

“I love you guys,” she said when she released Annabeth.

“Love you,” Annabeth said softly, smiling. Percy echoed the same sentiment, taking her hand and leading her down the hall.

Once they were safely in his room, he quietly locked the door and turned to her. “You know, if this demigod stuff doesn’t work out for me, I could be an actor.”

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. “Why’s that?”

His hands slipped under her hoodie, finding her waist and he pulled her closer. “I’m not tired,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers. “I just missed you.”

“While I was right next to you?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I missed kissing you. Thought I’d have to wait a long time to be able to do that again. And now I’m back, and we’ve barely gotten to do any kissing.”

Annabeth couldn’t help the way her lips twitched upwards. “You would’ve waited that long to kiss me again?” she asked softly.

“I’d wait a million lifetimes if it meant I got to kiss you again,” he replied, his voice devoid of teasing. Finally, he was done with talking and he leaned down to press his lips to hers. Annabeth’s arms snaked up around his neck and she pulled him closer. Walking her backward towards the bed, he muttered against her lips, “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” she replied.

Annabeth hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the simple act of kissing him until now. All she wanted to do was get wrapped up in his touch, which wasn’t wise with his parents being down the hall.

For once, however, she decided as she pulled him into the bed with her, wisdom could wait.

[fan-written]

They're So Tiny!

For @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint challenge this week

---

6/17/2021 Prompt, “I need a favor.” “I’ll do whatever you need.” “I need you to marry me.”

---

“Hello-”

“Luka? Luka, are you there?”

Her voice was panicked, but Luka smiled as he tried to interrupt her rambling words. Finally she took a breath and he could speak. “Yes Marinette, I’m here. What’s wrong?”

“I need a favor. Like a huge one. So big and I just know you’re going to say no, but I honestly can’t think of any other way I’ll be able to do it.” She took another gasping breath and Luka once again used the chance to talk.

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Melody.” Luka settled against the wall behind his bed, phone to his ear and guitar forgotten across his lap. Old habits die hard when you lived your life on a houseboat. “Now take a breath and tell me what’s going on.”

Marinette listened, taking more than one slow breath to calm down. Luka could hear her rustling, or maybe tearing, paper through the phone. “Okay, so it’s a little crazy, but I need you to marry me.”

He choked. Luka knew he was choking but he couldn’t even reassure Marinette that he was okay when all he heard was the blood rushing through his ears.

“-crazy. But there were two of them and they were so sad. And it was obvious that they weren’t being fed right. Like I can feel their ribs, Luka! Who lets such small beings go hungry?”

Luka tried to figure out what she was talking about, but she must have told him in between his brain short circuiting and the forceful reboot his lungs initiated, reminding him he needed to breathe. And she, the love of his life, his very best friend, and his very much NOT girlfriend, was still talking.

“So I brought them home. I’ve filled out all the paperwork for them, and they are going to be living with me now. But Luka! I can barely get myself to work on time, let alone take care of two more! So I knew I needed help. And I thought maybe I could share custody with Adrien. But he’s spent soooooo much time around Plagg that I’m not sure I can trust him to not get too playful with them. Plus I see him often enough as it is. Alya is home even less than I am. Also I’d never want to co-parent with her. I love her, but she only knows how to care for zoo animals. My babies are not zoo animals!”

Luka couldn’t help but chuckle. He was starting to get a little worried that Marinette had adopted two childr- No, she wasn’t that reckless.

“So anyway, I have so many friends, but the only one I want in my life that much is you, Luka. But, like you don’t live with me so how would you help me raise my babies? And probably take care of me, because I’ve only had them for a few hours and I’m already a mess. But my apartment doesn’t allow coed roommates, which means you’d have to marry me. They’re so little but I can’t do it on my own. So yeah. Luka Couffaine, will you marry me?”

It was silent. Luka knew he should answer, but that was a lot to unpack. Marinette seemingly adopted two kids. That was a mess he should probably figure out first. Except his mind kept getting stuck on how HE was the one she wanted to help raise them.

“L-Luka?” She was so hesitant, something he hadn’t heard in her voice since she applied to ESMOD. “Luka, you can say no. I’m, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I’m sorry. I-I’ll just, I’ll talk to you later.”

He could hear her start to hang up, but he knew if he didn’t stop her now their relationship would never be the same. Not that it would stay the same now anyway. Not if he could help it.

“Marinette! Wait.” He scrambled off his bed, guitar falling to the side. He needed to get to her, now. “I’m sorry. It’s just a surprise. I mean, I can’t believe you adopted two kids-”

Her laugh cut him off, startling him into falling from where he was hopping on one foot, trying to pull his shoe on. “Kids? Luka, weren’t you listening? I adopted two hamsters!” She burst into giggles and a layer of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying melted off his shoulders. He would have handled kids, it would have been fine. But he had hoped to date her before bringing kids into the mix. Hamsters were a much easier problem to deal with.

He laughed, slowing his mad dash for the door and actually matching his shoes this time. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear that Mari. I wasn’t sure I was ready for kids yet, but I can definitely help you raise a pair of hamsters. We might want to wait until we go on a few dates first before we talk about marriage though.” He smirked at her squeak in his ear, not unlike the pair of rodents she now cared for.

“I panicked, okay.” She groaned again with his sarcastic 'Oh really? I didn’t notice.'

“Yes, really. I just. I needed help and I needed someone who could be that steady presence next to me, telling me I could do this. That I hadn’t made a stupid decision. Who would be ready to help me, if I needed it. And I thought about it more and I realized that what I really needed was you, Luka. You’ve always been there for me and the only way I could really explain it in the middle of my panic was by asking you to marry me.”

Hearing her ask him to marry her brought her song to the front of his mind clearer than ever. He didn’t think he would ever tire of hearing that. Especially with the hope that it could someday become true.

“I’m going to have to hear you say that every day for the rest of our lives, Melody.” He grasped his keys and locked his door behind him. “But first, I’m on my way over. I’ll help you get your new pets settled, then maybe you’ll let me take you on a proper date. Does, does that sound okay?” He was only a little worried that he’d read the situation wrong, but the smile in her voice soothed those fears.

“Yeah, Luka. That sounds great.”

[mrsalwayswrite]

Murder Is Not On The Schedule (Ron Speirs x Reader)

So this is loosely based on a prompt I found on Pinterest about murder not being on today’s schedule and immediately thought SPEIRS! I also wasn’t feeling great this week so I wanted to write something lighthearted...ya know? So this is what my brain came up with. 

Warnings: some swearing, sexual tension (cuz i can’t seem to write Speirs without it...sorry?), my poor attempts at humor

Words:2500

Tag List: @happyveday​ @sydney-m​ @saritanotserena​

  The sound of mortars and 88s followed me as I walked into the room being used for Captain Speirs' office in Haguenau. Those same sounds should be terrifying but no one flinched anymore thanks to Bastogne. The office was in the back of Easy HQ, looking towards the river. All the walls and windows were still intact, even if the place was dreary and drafty, it fulfilled its purpose. 

 Speirs, who had been staring out the window in parade rest, turned around to lean back against the window and looked over at me. "Lip in bed?"

 "Yeah. Finally convinced him that I could handle it." I dropped down onto one of the two chairs. Both chairs were placed at the table which occupied the center of the room. 

 Lipton was an admirable man, second only to Winters himself. But Christ Almighty, he had to be the worst patient with his perpetual refusal to rest. I did not envy any of the medics who were diligently trying to take care of him. It pretty much took both myself and Luz to drag him to one of the cots in the back and me swearing in blood that if I needed help, I would find him. 

 And if I threatened him a little, no one needs to know, right?

 "Well, I appreciate you stepping up and taking over for Lipton while he is sick."

 I shrugged, already looking at all the paperwork spread out on the table. "He kept us together while in Bastogne. It's the least I can do. Besides, I used to be a secretary before joining up. It's not a problem."

 "Lucky us." He murmured, distractedly. One of his hands tapped a repetitive pattern on his thigh as he seemed to stare at nothing. 

 I knew there was to be a patrol tonight. A prisoner snatch. From what little I had overheard and observed, it weighed heavily on both Lipton and Speirs. My guess was all the names had not been chosen yet on who had to go. Glancing at Speirs, eyebrows furrowed just slightly, repetitive tapping, biting just the inside corner of his lip...he was working on the list in his head. 

 I could not help it as my eyes traced his jawline...his messy hair that looked so damn soft...those dark eyes that pierce your soul but also lit up like a beacon when amused. He looked like a rugged, dirty Greek god with an affinity for bloodlust. Even his hands looked perfect to hold my--

 You are here to help. NOT OGLE YOUR CO! 

 Even if he is pretty.

 Handsome?

 Gorgeous?

 Wet dream worthy?

 Whoa! Too much. Pull up, you buffoon! 

 With all my willpower, I turned back to focus on organizing the reports on the table and checking to make sure we had enough paper. Who knew the army used so much paperwork? Everything had to be documented. I could see why it seemed Winters never left his office...or Nixon. Without Lipton's help, I doubted Speirs would ever see his men. I absent-mindedly wondered if I should offer to help out more often. 

 Obviously out of the goodness of my heart and not to ogle the handsome devil currently before me. 

 Nope. 

 Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. After Speirs bid them enter, two replacements stepped into the room. Their ODs were clean, helmets practically sparkled in the sunlight, eagerness written all over their faces. They did not carry the weariness from the Ardennes on their shoulders. They still looked like boys wanting to play soldier with the other neighborhood kids. All I could figure was they had gotten dropped off with the other soldiers returning from the hospital. 

 Both rapidly saluted Speirs, who only lazily saluted in response, still leaning against the window. 

 "Captain, sir." The shorter of the two spoke first, practically bouncing on his toes. "We were wondering if we'd see some action soon."

 The other one chimed in, a proud smile exaggerating his chubby cheeks. "Yeah, we heard a rumor there's a patrol. Sir, we're ready to get our rifles dirty by killing Krauts, sir."

 Christ. These two are greener than the Jolly Green Giant. 

 I quickly muffled a snort by turning it into a cough. It must have not been as subtle as I hoped with the side-eye Speirs gave me. 

 Speirs sighed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Your platoon leader will let you know. I suggest you head back to your OP… and try not to get hit by mortars or snipers on your way there."

 The two glanced at one another, seeming to remember that Nazis were just as likely to kill them. A necessary reminder. After another round of salutes, they hurried out and closed the door behind them.

 "Jesus Christ! If I hear those two asking about killing Krauts again, I'll shoot them both…. And murder wasn't on my agenda today."

 "Murder usually isn't on anyone's agenda." I murmured, making notes on a supply list. We definitely needed more ammo...and chocolate bars. There might be a mutiny if we did not receive more chocolate bars and cigarettes. 

 "No, it's on mine. Just not until Thursday."

 Wait….

 ...What?

 My head whipped up to stare at Speirs. I honestly was unsure if he was joking or serious. I mean, hell, we all knew the rumors about him. With his signature serious expression, he held my gaze, as if waiting for me to question him. I chose not to. Really, I believed him. He would be the one to throw a grenade near his men to get them to pay attention. Or get bored and sneak into the enemy's camp to steal their rifles or something just to mess with them.  

 Then I saw the twitch of his lips, forcing back a smile. 

 At that I laughed, shaking my head. "No offense, sir, but I think we need to find something better for you to do with your time."

 "Oh?" He tipped his head slightly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Like what?" 

 Me.

 Shit. Don't say that aloud. 

 "Mmm…" I tapped my lip with my finger, pretending to think about it. "Preferably something other than terrorizing your men."

 "Ah, but it's fun. You should join me."

 I shook my head, not even trying to suppress the indulgent smile on my face. What had my life become? Here I was joking with CAPTAIN SPEIRS about committing murder…. for fun? Later I should question my sanity, but right now, I was more than amused to see him in this new lightheartedness. I had only ever seen him always stoic, poised, ready for anything in war. I found this new side of him only increased his attractiveness. 

 Damn it. 

 "What are you doing on Thursday?" He probed, still watching me with a hawk-like gaze. 

 I shrugged my shoulders, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. If he was going to joke around, I felt I could return the favor. "Maybe I'm going on a date."

 "With who?"

 "Whoever can afford me, I guess."

 He laughed, widening my own smile. I had never heard him laugh before, and if I could admit it to myself, the world was missing out without that sound. He shoved off the window, to come sit on the corner of the table, one leg dangling off the side, almost touching the chair I sat on. "And what would a date with you consist of?"

 I thought back to before the war. Back before I was weighed down by pain and death. What my life had once entailed. "An elegant dinner at the best restaurant around. Pictures or dancing afterwards. I'm not picky. Then after all that, if I had a very good time, I might be tempted to bring him back to my apartment for some late-night drinks and, well, we'd see where it went from there. But don't tell my mother that last part."

 "Sounds like you've got it all planned out."

 "I'm a lady who knows what she wants."

 "Mmm…" He ran a hand over the stubble growing on his jaw. "I need to change my schedule for Thursday now."

 This information you are trying to process does not compute. Please try again.

 "You taking me out on the date?" I teased back, leaning back slightly in my chair. Mentally, I prepared for him to make a joke about killing whomever was taking me out for the company's sake or something along those lines, since the idea of him having interest in me was preposterous. 

 In one swift move, he shifted over so his leg was between mine allowing him to lean forward and hover over me. The air between us suddenly felt hot compared to the rest of the room. Those dark eyes scanned me, as if slowly undressing me with both the utmost care but also unbridled passion. "Yes. Though we might have to skip with the elegant dinner. I'll share the better parts of the K rations. We also might need to skip the pictures or dancing. But I am positive I can steal some of Nixon's Vat 69 and we can go straight to the late-night drinks. Of course, I'll be a gentleman and let the lady decide what happens after." He finished with a cocky wink at me. 

 Holy mother of-

 I was not ready for that. 

 I could only stare at him for a long moment. My body practically throbbed for him with the image he painted in my mind. The way his voice became so smooth and sensual. The peak of his tongue as he quickly licked his lips before speaking. Now he sat there, his leg dangling between mine, keeping me glued to my seat. Subtly, I tried to press my thighs together to alleviate some of the pressure building. Not that it helped with his intense gaze making my heart beat faster and his lazy smile telling me he KNEW the effect he was having on me. 

 Act cool. 

 Act cool! 

 Play it off! 

 I leaned forward, smirking. "Do you always offer to take your executive officers out on a date? If so, I can see why Lipton likes you so much."

 He chuckled, eyes alluring and heated. "No, not all of them. Just the ones that I've been admiring for some time." 

 Well shit. 

 Abort. 

 Abort! 

 Don't you dare, you've dreamed about this man before. Ride it out, you coward! 

 I blinked in surprise but before I could respond, he had already made his move. He leaned forward and braced his hands on the arms of my chair, hovering over me. His face now was only inches from mine. I was positive he could hear how fast my heart was beating. My lips parted, trying to encourage breath into my lungs that were struggling to send oxygen to my brain. His eyes drifted down to my lips and lingered there. As if in compliance, my own eyes glanced at his lips, how soft they looked, even slightly chapped still from our time in Bastogne. His hands slid ever so slowly further up the arms of the chair, stopping just next to my elbows. Now I could see the faint lines around his eyes. His hair slipped forward, calling my eyes upward. I struggled to not reach forward and touch it. To see how it felt with my fingers running through it. A soft chuckle had my eyes snapped back to his, as he watched me with an intensity that border-lined frightening and lascivious. 

 I gulped. "Captain Speirs…"

 "No," he just barely ran the tip of his nose over the shell of my ear. His hot breath caressed my skin. My eyes fluttered closed on their own accord; my body unable to handle the pleasurable sensation. He whispered into my ear, voice fully commanding and salacious. "No, you call me Ron when we're alone."

 Mission control. We are going down. I repeat we are going down in flames! 

 My underwear was not prepared for this! 

 "Ron." I liked the way his name rolled off my lips. If the quiet, sharp inhale from him said anyway, he liked the way it sounded too. Tilting my head just the slightest, I could look up into those dark, smoldering eyes. Our lips though...I could taste his breath on my tongue. I could feel the warmth from his skin radiating onto mine, turning me into a puddle of desire.

 Oh God, he smelled like everything that is beautifully masculine. Not the nasty, sweaty teenage boy but the pheromones that make your ovaries take notice and your uterus demands for something to be done with it. How was that possible? 

 "I'll...um, I'll make sure to add this to your schedule on Thursday." I whispered, almost able to feel his lips ghost over mine as my lips formed each word. 

 "Excellent."

 His hand trailed up my arm, setting fire to my nerves. Gently, he wrapped it around the base of my throat, his thumb rubbing a pattern into my skin. The whole time our eyes remained locked. His pupils dilated, desire coloring them and I wondered if mine looked the same. The small amount of air between us was thick with tension and salacity. My body screamed for me to drag him down and crash our lips together. To see if he tasted as good as he looked. My hands were stuck in my lap though. It felt like we were in a stalemate, unable to move forward, to take that next step.

 If something does not happen, I swear I will spontaneously combust! 

 Then someone knocked on the closed door. 

 .

 .

 .

 Dear universe. That was NOT what I meant! 

 With a sigh, he slipped his hand up to rub his thumb along my bottom lip for the briefest of seconds. I swear the regret coursing through my veins, I could see mirrored in his eyes. Ever so slowly he retracted his hand and leaned back, but stayed on the edge of his desk, his leg still between mine. 

 "Enter." He called out, only turning his heavy gaze from mine when the person stepped through. 

 First Sergeant Talbert walked in, opening his mouth then hesitated for a second as his eyes seemed to take in but not fully comprehend the scene before him. "Um, sir, there's a couple of replacements asking about a patrol…"

 "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

 I laughed at Speirs' pained expression. Quickly, I jumped to my feet and brazenly patted his chest, my hand lingering on the feel under my palm. "I'll take care of it before murder happens."

 "That's not till Thursday." He looked at me with a wry grin. His hand subtly reached forward to skim my hip before grabbing the edge of the table. 

 "Remember, you're busy now. Murder has to wait."

 "Fine. Friday it is then."

 "If you have the energy after." I winked at him. I only caught a glimpse of the hunger that flooded his eyes before I turned on my heels and headed out the door. The whole way out I could feel his heated gaze on my back, like his fingers were trailing down my spine. I shivered in anticipation for what it would really feel like. 

 I'll make sure he doesn't have the energy to terrorize Easy… I'm definitely doing this for their sakes… completely self-sacrificing… yep, I won't enjoy this at all. 

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

can i say a sort of pointless rambly thing i was thinking about that i can't put under the cut bc i'm on mobile?

jk, i'm not actually asking. ramble below, not edited for clarity. the following is completely unclear and i will not fix it:

i've been thinking about how part of the reason i'm so chill about caryl is bc growing up as a queer woc 99% of my main ships were like, never gonna fucking happen bc they literally couldn't. it was like, "omg, they gazed at each other from across the room, let's analyze the homosexual subtext of this one scene for the next fifty years, that's not necessarily hyperbole." i've watched all my ships fuck other ppl/have other love interests, and i knew that my thing was never gonna be canon, so to see like, one thing being like, "one half of my ship fucked another person several years ago while pining for the other half of my ship," i'm like...#nice, bc that can and likely will be used as a plot point to get them together later on, whereas in other situations i've been in i just kinda had to deal with it. so my impulse when i see ppl losing their shit is to be like

and to be slightly annoyed, tbh, bc the ship is still on track to be canon, and it's like, literally two white heterosexuals, they're prime candidates for juicy angsty pining that actually gets a resolution.

but!

that being said, i recognize that that attitude isn't necessarily fair. for one thing, i'm not the only queer woc (or some variation thereof) in this fandom, and some ppl's impulse might be exasperation instead, bc like, "wtf, even my mayohet ship has dumb fucking drama," and that's valid as hell, and i get it.

and also, i get that, even if you didn't grow up shipping impossible ships (or mulder/scully, bc that's a brand of bullshit all its own), this has been a suuuuper drawn out process where sometimes it feels like they're legit sprinkling crumbs to keep you hooked, just to play you again, and when you are invested in something, like /rly/ invested, especially if it's a form of escapism or hyperfixation or whatever, that can be e x h a u s t i n g. and i get that. i truly do, and while i make a lot of snide comments about the fandom being bonkers, i do get where the bulk of you are coming from (unless you're one of those ppl who hate on actors and esp actresses for just doing their jobs, and attack them on social media, in which case i am very much judging you and you need to get your life together).

i also realize that in the scheme of things i'm still a newbie. i've been here, what, twoish/threeish years, whereas some of you have been here since the beginning, so i'm not as worn out as y'all. but i also think that gives me a bit of objectivity that some of y'all have (understandably) lost.

my positivity is not meant as a sleight against those of you who are feeling negative, but is more of a semi-objective viewpoint (i say semi, bc lbr, i'm invested af in this, so i definitely have bias), and to me the threads of the storyline they're crafting seem sort of obvious.

like, let's look at it, yeah? they have one season left of this show that has been on for over a decade. they need to cater to everyone to give them a satisfying ending, while still hanging on to carylers bc of the spin-off. darylrreah seems like a very calculated move, bc it gives them both something to make abcers happy, while also creating tension and suspense and pining for carylers (i think they might underestimate just how fed up some carylers are tbh, and are banking on us to hang on for one last ride, which, honestly? if they play it right will probably work.)

if they end up doing a dumb love triangle thing, which, without seeing the episode and gauging the subtext i can't confidently say if i think they will or won't, it will ultimately end in our favor. it has to, bc leah isn't going to third wheel them on the bike in the spin-off. we can say with good authority that whatever that relationship ends up being (again, idk if they'll drag it out or not) it will be temporary. which leaves caryl open to ride off into the sunset and then bone down in every state in the united states and in puerto rico for good measure.

it's a lot of cheap drama, but i really and truly do not think it's anything to worry about, and i still really and truly trust kang to not make it out of character. ik ppl still don't agree with me on that point, and i'm not gonna argue, but to me it really does make perfect sense.

and i also predict that they are gonna play it up hardcore in the promotional shit and talking dead, but when that happens, remember it's bc it gets attention. regardless of where the story is ultimately going, relationship drama gets attention, which gets viewers, which gets amc and twd producers nice and comfy with full pockets

idk. to sum up ig i just wanted to clarify that i don't mean any harm with my relentless positivity. my history in fandom has just made this seem like nothing in comparison, bc while ppl are freaking out, i'm like, "oh damn, they're actually gonna get together by the end of this, aren't they? i didn't know that could happen!" and that makes me excited instead of upset

and you definitely don't have to listen to me. maybe i'm actually wrong. maybe i'm completely full of bullshit and am just good at making things sound confident. i got a lot of As on papers in college over books i never read, i know how to bs. but i also know how to analyze, and i while i will be the first to tell you i am not the best at a great many things, i do know that i am good at critically analyzing text while taking into account the context it was written in, and imho all signs point to canon caryl. when, i'm not entirely sure, but i see it happening. if it doesn't then they severely fucked up their storytelling, and that'd just be bad writing on their part.

(if you want proof that i'm good at reading writers'/producers' intentions, consider that i watched like, 8 seasons of supernatural before giving up, and said to myself, "i think they're gonna make destiel canon, but not until the very last second bc they are rly into catering to their fans but also have to consider their dumb fanboy audience so they can't do anything crazy overtly gay," and guess who hit the nail on the fucking head on that one)

none of this is important, but it was rattling around my mind grapes and i wanted to write it down into something vaguely coherent, and where else better to do it than here. i can word vomit and then send it into the ether and pretend i never said a thing. i love this horrible website, nothing can compare

i have no real conclusion to this, it was mostly stream of consciousness, but i hope it sort of helps y'all understand where i'm coming from, and why i am as chill as i am about things. not about y'all. y'all cause me so much anxiety i get physically sick and have to legit block tags, but with the actual show content i'm zen as hell

uh

the end ig?

it feels weird even signing off on this, but w/e

-diz

[julyarchives]

Don’t You Hear Me Howling ||(M)|| 02

Finding out you are a female Alpha sparkled some rivalry inside your pack, and resulted in you losing your best friend and your life turning upsidedown, so leaving for college was the fresh start you needed. Years later, you are about to finish your degree and suddenly this past comes back to mess with your head

→ Pairing: Yeo One x Female Reader | Kino x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut; A/B/O AU; Omegaverse; College AU.

→ Words:  3K

→ Contains: Oral Female receiving; Riding; Hair pulling; Semi-Public touching.

→ Index: 01 • 02 • 03 • 04  • 05  • 06  • 07

→ A/n: Here’s chapter 2 for you guys! I hope you enjoy it and look forward to the next chapter :)

You enjoyed the rest of your night with Kino, dancing very closely, learning that he was a dance major for a reason. Each roll of his hips against your making you want to rush back to that room and not leaving any time soon, but you knew he couldn’t handle it. You shared kisses and drinks and had fun talks, but none of this distracted you from the pair of eyes roaming around you all night. Wherever you looked, Changgu was there, staring with that same pissed-off face.

At the end of the night, Kino said he had to go.

“You can go ahead, I’ll stay back to say goodbye to Wooseok before I go.” you said to him.

“Alright,” he answered with a smile. “We’ll keep in touch then.” He winked at you.

You laced your hands on his waist and pulled him in for a goodbye kiss. Kino was one of the favorite omegas you’ve ever been with, you would definitely not lose touch with him when kissing feels this good.

“We will” you finally said, giving him one last peck before he turned around and left.

You watched him leave through the door, before turning around to see the owner of the smell invading your nostrils.

“Can’t get away from me, can you?” you said to the blond man now in front of you “Why are you chasing my tail all night long?”

“Fuck, y/n, do you really have to ask? It’s not like I’m enjoying this” he said, sounding mad still “I know you are getting your heat. I am your beta, my every instinct is telling me to back you up against that wall and not leave until I’m done with you”

The boy had the talent to get you angry.

“Oh, so you get close to me just because of instinct, Changgu?” you scoffed, he squinted his eyes, trying to understand what you meant. “You threw our friendship down the garbage, ignored my existence for years, and now you pop a boner because we’re in the same room expecting that I will let you get in my pants just to relieve your tension? You must really think low of me.”

Changgu opened his mouth to answer, but you threw him a look that got him closing it in no time.

“Do me a favor and go back to pretending I don’t exist. I was better off that way.” you ended the talk right there. 

You swallowed the knot on your throat and stomped your way out.

The next morning you faced your first class of the day with a minor hangover, nothing a good cup of coffee wouldn’t fix. But your attentively note-taking had to be sacrificed, given that your mind was on something else entirely. You sneaked your cellphone during the lecture, quickly typing a text “good morning, baby boy~ are u free after lunch?”. You tried to redirect your attention back to the professor, but not even 5 minutes later, your phone vibrated in your lap. There were two messages.

“Morning, sunshine! Wooseok invited me over for a movie marathon he will have with some of his friends.”, “You can come with me and maybe we can find that room down the hall again ;)”

You bit your lip in excitement before texting a quick “it’s a date” with a kiss emoji.

Your focus went to hell. Even on suppressants that you usually take for class, you couldn’t help but feel horny all day long. The images of last night kept coming to you unexpectedly, and the only relief you could get right now was rubbing your thighs together. The clock was ticking slower than usual, you felt like you were going to explode. 

Finally, lunchtime arrived and you headed to the cafeteria for your usual spot, and as soon as you arrived, Wooseok saw you and waved, patting the seat by his side for you to take it.

“Hey! Sorry for leaving without saying goodbye yesterday” you said after sitting with him

“S’alright” he shrugged “so, I heard you and Kino got pretty close, huh? He just texted me saying you are coming for the movie session later.”

“Oh, yeah, that” you giggled “thanks for hooking us up, really, you’re the best” You hugged him sideways 

“You’re crushing me, y/n.” he said with a weak voice, mid-laugh.

“Sorry” you quickly released him, joining the laugh

“What about you and Changgu? Are you two alright? I saw you two talking at some point”

“Oh” you tensed up hearing his name, remember the bad part about yesterday “yeah, no, we’re not good. Don’t worry, though. Nothing out of the usual.”

Wooseok’s expression cast down. You understand his disappointment since the three of you used to hang out together all the time in high school, and honestly, sometimes you too wish those times back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” he hugged you this time, sensing your longines. “But don’t worry, he won’t be home today, he has classes all afternoon”

“Right,” you felt surprised “forgot he lives with you now. Glad to hear I won't stumble onto him today then.”

“Yes, it will be just you and your lover boy” he teased you 

“Shut up!” you bumped shoulders with him. “that’s your fault.”

“Can’t say that I didn’t see it coming” 

“Yeah, you do know how I like my boys” you winked “all sub and…”

“Okaaay, that’s TMI right there, please stop” he covered his ears with his hands, making you laugh out loud

You grabbed his wrist, making him listen to you before you left

“See you later” you smiled brightly.

You found yourself in the doorway of Wooseok’s house, after going to your house to refresh before meeting Kino. You texted him and soon he was opening the door for you. The strawberry smell once more invading your nostrils made you smile widely, his lips mirroring yours.

He didn't say a word before pulling you into a long peck. Oh boy, did he know how to hold you strongly. 

“It’s good to see you.” He grinned, stepping aside for you to come in, reaching his hand for you to take it. “The movie has already started, c’mon”

He guided you to the living room, where you quietly waved at everyone, careful to not disturb them with loud noises, then got yourself comfortable under the blankets on the couch with Kino. He extended his arm around your shoulder and you snuggled closer to him.

The movie was interesting, sure, but after half an hour it wasn’t enough to hold your attention anymore. Especially because Kino’s other hand was currently squeezing teasingly your thigh, going slightly up your skirt each time, all of that combined with occasional kisses he kept planting on the corner of your mouth. Finally, he got up enough that his finger started grazing against your underwear. You took a deep breath, biting your lips to not gasp out loud. Kino smirked at you.

He began to press harder and subtly motion circularly, becoming harder for you to keep quiet.

“I think now it’s the time for us to go find that room again” You whispered to him, teasing a soft kiss.

You quietly got up, holding him by the hand and taking you both back to that corridor, quickly finding that same door and locking you both behind it.

It was quick that he pressed you against the door, kissing you hungrily

“Been thinking about you all day” He said between kisses.

You pulled his shirt off while not breaking contact.

“Me too, baby. Missing those pretty lips” you said, throwing his shirt somewhere on the floor.

“I wanna have them all over you, y/n” he said before kissing you deeper

Still not breaking it, you pushed him until you reached the bed, throwing yourself down so he fell on top of you. You worked your hands on his belt, throwing away carelessly. 

Kino kneeled up and you took the chance to admire his pale toned torso, the small waist of a dancer with his jeans hanging low on his hips. It was something beautiful to admire. He noticed your staring and smirked.

“Like what you see?” he inflated his chest 

“I’ll like it better when I see you buried between my legs” 

“Yes, ma’am” Kino licked his lips before leaning down on you

He gave you a strong kiss, rolling his pelvis against yours, allowing you to have some friction as you felt the bulge grow in his pants. Your nails dug into his back, coping with the heat-powered lust. He then trailed kisses down your body, following the path as he opened the buttons of your blouse one by one. He took his time, teasing you with hot wet kisses. When he got to your skirt, He looked at you and grinned before yanking your skirt off in one swift motion, getting a surprised yelp out of you, followed by giggles of excitement.

Kino buried his face on your still clothed core, taking a long sniff, your pheromones probably driving him insane as his pupil blew wide.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell, y/n”  he almost purred

“What are you waiting for, baby boy? I’m all yours to taste” you quickly replied

That same cocky smirk still splattered across his face, he tore off the weak lacy of your panties like a piece of paper and wasted no time giving your clit a long slow lick, earning a moan from you.

“Hmm, so sweet” He hummed, sending vibrations against your core.

“Fuck, Kino, don’t tease” You tugged his hair, guiding him to flicker his tongue on your pussy.

The harder you tugged, the more he gasped and moaned, and you just loved to hear him being pleasured at your mercy like that. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pressing his fingers hard against your skin that you were sure would leave bruises. 

He licked around your folds steadily, the slurping sounds being such a turn-on for you. When he sucked in your clit you bucked your hips against his mouth. Kino reacted with a long moan, which you took the cue to start rocking your hips and fucking his face.

With the hand on his hair, you control him like you wanted while your hips do the speed working, now his tongue circling your clit, sending jolts of pleasure all over your body. 

“Shit, baby, your mouth feels so good on me,” you said in between pants and he hummed in response “such a good boy eating me out”

Kino then took one of his hands away from your thighs, and slowly teased your entrance with two fingers.

“Oh, fuck, do it, baby boy” is all you had to say before he inserted his fingers in you, getting you growling out of pleasure.

Now every time you rocked your hips you pushed yourself against his fingers and also his tongue flickered on your clit. The double stimulation taking you to the edge quicker than you expect.

“Don’t stop, Kino, I’m gonna cum” you warned and he started moving his hand to meet the movement of your hips, now his fingers hitting your g-spot.

You tugged his hair harder, moving faster while the other hand tugged the sheets. Today, though, there was no loud music to cover for your noises, so you bit your lip hard enough to taste a little blood, limiting yourself to pants and low groans. Kino, however, moaned as he pleased, sending extra vibrations against your core.

You came hard, your juices coating his chin the more you moved against his face but he didn’t stop moving his tongue skillfully.

When you finished riding your orgasm, you pulled him up quickly for a kiss, using your tongue to clean your cum from his face, tasting yourself in him sensually. He hissed slowly. His noises will be the end of you, you concluded.

“You were such a good boy.” You said sitting up, pushing him lightly so he stopped on his knees “I’ll let you fuck my pussy as you please.” You grazed your nails down his torso, reaching for his jeans’ button. 

While he worked his way off his pants, you pulled off your bra, leaving you both fully naked now, kneeling face to face. He took a long look up and down before saying

“Can you turn around for me?” he gently grabbed your hips as you obeyed his wish.

Still kneeling, he aligned your hips and gave his length three long strokes before pulling you down so you slowly sank on him while you spread your knees wider to fit him.

“Ride me, princess” He said boldly, the pet name actually pleasing you.

You began to move your hips up and down, easily done due to your juices from the recent orgasm. One of his hands snaked up your body, grabbing your breast and holding you back against his chest. The other wrapped around your hair, repeating the action of the last time you were together. He cautiously tugged it lightly, asking for permission, which you promptly nodded to it.

“Remember just how I like it, huh, baby?” you praised him and he pulled it harder. “Just like that” you mewled 

He began to move his hips to meet yours, your sensitive core reacting to every inch he got deeper. He squeezed your breast and rolled your nipple between his finger, all of the stimulation taking you to heaven. You two were moving so fast and hard the bed started to move around slightly, but you couldn’t be bothered. If you knew that letting Kino have some control would get him to go this hard, you would have done it sooner.

“You look so good filled with my cock, princess” he praised you this time and promptly sucked a spot on your neck that you were sure it would mark for days. You reached behind your head, grazing lightly your nails against the skin of his neck, running softly your fingers through his hair. 

You used your free hand to work in your already sensitive clit, and Kino pulled your hair a little harder, the pleasure sting bringing you closer to your second high that night.

He fucks up into you viciously, his hips slapping hard against your ass and filling up the quiet room with slapping sounds. Your juices messily covered both of your thighs, making it easier for you to sway your hips on him. Your walls clenched tighter around his dick making him shake against your body, and you just knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

You sped up your hand on your clit, and while your moans got louder and you clenched harder, Kino was brought to his edge, thrusting slower but deeper inside you, filling you with his cum as it was mixed with your own as you reached climax altogether. 

You two laid down, this time you nesting on his chest, catching your breath and calming down from your high.

“I hope we weren’t too loud” You looked up at him and giggle, for which he opened the sweetest smile

He kissed the top of your head before answering,

“Even if we weren’t loud, which I’m pretty sure we were, everyone can feel your heat.”

“Oh… Yeah,” you laughed. “Well, not my fault”

“I don’t think they will complain, they will just find someone to let go of the pent up energy”

“I just hope Wooseok forgive us for ruining his movie party” 

Kino laughed with you, and for a second he looked very precious, not the guy who was growling and panting under you 5 minutes ago. Guess you were growing fonder of having him around.

After cooling down and leaving the room fairly neat after all the mess, you both went back to the living room, where thankfully everyone was watching the movie entertainingly. The only one who side-eyed you was Wooseok, to which he quickly texted you explaining that you shouldn’t worry, he slipped suppressors for everyone so they don’t feel your pheromones.

“Thank you” you mouthed to him from a distance.

The afternoon was quite pleasant. You enjoyed the movie and Kino’s cuddles under the blankets, and later all of you played video games and had tons of fun. In the end, Kino and you stood behind to help Wooseok clean the place around.  You were almost done with the dirty dishes when someone burst into the kitchen

“You better not be trying to cook again, you remember how the last time wen…” 

Changgu was shouting but stopped in his tracks when he saw you “Oh, y/n, you’re here. I thought it was Wooseok.”

You two just stared at each other, both awkwardly quiet. You were not mad at him for yesterday anymore, but still, you didn’t know what to say.

“I’m done with the living room, y/n, do you need any help?” Kino entered the room, so focused on you that only noticed Changgu when you didn’t answer him.

Changgu’s eyes changed color. He was bothered. Of course, he was. 

“I’m ok, here, I’m just finishing these.” You finally answered the younger. “Baby, you can go home, I have to talk to Changgu.”

“Are you sure?” He stared at you intensely, his instinct getting alarmed as he snaked one possessive arm around your waist.

“Yeah, it’s ok, baby, I’ll be fine. I’ll text you later” You said calmly, trying to soothe him back to normal. It was just your duty as an alpha to ease everyone when they felt tense.

“Alright, then I’ll get going” He lingered a peck on your lips.

Such a showoff,  you chuckled to yourself.

He left, walking his way off staring at Changgu and smirking, the latter snarls almost inaudible, but it was impossible for you to miss it. 

You two were left in silence until you heard Kino closing the door behind himself. It was then that Changgu broke the silence.

“Can we talk?.”

[prurientpuddlejumper]

You’re a Mean One, Mr. Kneef (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

For @thatesqcrush​​​’s Holiday Bingo! Filling the Grinch/Scrooge square

Bryan Kneef x Female Reader

Warnings: NSFW. No smut, just a... situation in which Bryan has zero sense of shame. Honestly it’s straight-up workplace sexual harassment. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

1,576 words

Festive lights were strung around the offices of STR Laurie, but their merry glow added no holiday cheer to the hearts of all of those forced to come into work on Christmas Eve. Everyone was supposed to have the day off, or at least get a half-day. However, the sun was setting over the Chicago skyline, and at least a dozen paralegals were still frantically toiling over the enormous workload dumped on them last minute by one Bryan Kneef.

It didn’t seem like a particularly important case or a particularly critical motion, but according to Mr. Kneef, it was worthy of an all-hands-on-deck situation that would make as many employees as possible miss dinner with their families.

In fact, as you glared over the top of your monitor at his office—the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed within—you were pretty sure he wasn’t even working on this “important” case. He was probably fucking napping. This was all some sadistic Scrooge-like tactic to make everyone miserable just because he didn’t have anywhere to be tonight.

As the angled light streaming in through the window turned dusky orange with no end to the work in sight, you’d had enough. You stood up, marched across the office, and barged through Mr. Kneef’s door without knocking, certain you were going to catch him with his eyes closed on the couch.

Instead, you caught him behind his desk, furiously masturbating to porn.

He stopped, but unlike a decent human being who would yelp in surprise and frantically sputter apologies for being caught dick-in-hand, he wasn’t startled by your entrance and made no particular hurry to cover himself. He clicked a button on the keyboard, and the rhythmic sounds of moaning stopped.

His eyebrows raised at you impatiently as if you’d interrupted him on a phone call.

You slammed the door behind you—the rest of the office didn’t need to hear this.

“What the fuck, Mr. Kneef? This case is so important we have to work through fucking Christmas, and you’re in here jerking off?”

“Your point?”

“Fuck you!”

His lips pushed up into an excessive frown that made his beard bristle, and he raised his brows, not disagreeing and seemingly impressed with your audacity.

“Fine. Come here.” He patted his lap, smirking, legs spread wide in his leather chair. His semi-hard cock was still sitting naked and pink outside his deep navy dress pants.

Now he’d crossed the line into making your skin crawl.

“OK, I’m calling HR.”

He scoffed and tucked himself back into his pants. “You said fuck me.”

He wasn’t swayed by your threat to report him—what was important was that you had been the first to blink. You didn’t really look offended, anyway. If you had blushed like a nun and hidden your eyes when you walked in on him, he wouldn’t have been so provocative (he wasn’t a complete monster). If you had fucking knocked, you wouldn’t have walked in on anything. But you had the balls to barge in and dress down your superior. The number-one asshole of the firm was not about to let you challenge him and win.

You closed your eyes and tried to compose yourself, ignoring the flush of heat surging behind your ribs and pooling between your legs from his sleazy request. Ew—body, what? Don’t be gross.

“So. You have a problem with the work I’ve assigned you?” He set his elbow on the table and rested his beard in his hand. His voice was as casually mocking as ever, as if this whole situation was perfectly normal.

“Yeah. It’s bullshit. We’d all like to go home if this motion isn’t so vitally pressing it can’t wait until Monday.”

“I see.”

“Don’t you have anywhere to be?”

There was a twitch in his face at that. He tried to remain as callous and inscrutable as ever, but the question revealed a tension that wasn’t obvious before. Beside his computer was a bottle of Scotch and an almost-empty glass. Next to that was a small rectangular box, neatly wrapped with shiny silver paper and a gold bow. He glanced down at it, and he looked, for a brief instant, sad.

He wasn’t so intimidating when his cold eyes turned pitiful like that. Almost like he was human.

In contrast to his distasteful personality, his eyes were a beautiful, delicate green even in the dim light. It was enough to make you admit how handsome the lawyer was—the dark beard, the flecks of silver streaking through his flawlessly-styled hair. If he turned out to have actual human feelings beneath the swagger, you might even like him.

You sat down in the small chair opposite him at his desk. His eyes had already retaken their cold, mocking air, but you tried appealing to the hypothetical inner-human in him anyway. “Do you have any Christmas traditions? A family you want to see? You must at least remember being a kid—how special the holidays are at that age. Dana has two kids waiting at home, and this is the only time of year Paul gets to see his nephews.”

“You think I give a shit about sob stories? They have a job to do. If they don’t like it, they can quit.”

“Fine”—Screw playing nice—“How about this: I can call HR about the porn on your work computer.”

He glowered back at you, appraising the sincerity of your threat. “The whole HR department is eating turkey right now. So, you can file a complaint on Monday. Maybe I get a warning? Won’t help you tonight. Sorry, sweetheart. Finish the motion, you can go home.” His piercing eyes stared at you, waiting. “Will that be all?”

Instead of retreating in an indignant huff as he full-well expected you to do, you shoved aside a handful of papers and the Scotch bottle to clear a spot on his desk, and sat on it so you were looking down on him, thoroughly invading his personal space. “What do you want? Why are you doing this? Don’t pretend it isn’t out of spite. Let me guess… you didn’t want to spend another Christmas alone getting sad-drunk on expensive whisky, so you decided to do this instead of pick up a hooker?”

He glared harshly but otherwise didn’t react.

“How about this? I’ll take one for the team and go drinking with you—just tell everyone else they can go home, Ebenezer.”

He rolled his eyes contemptuously and explained in no uncertain terms that that was not going to happen. But maybe it was your flirtatious body language, or the stubborn way you refused to back down, or that you weren’t intimidated by him like every other subordinate around here. Maybe he was just lonely. But you were irritating in a way he liked. And just desperate enough to do him a favor.

“If we left together, we would not be going out drinking,” he growled.

You rightly mistook it for an invitation to bed—because he deliberately intoned it as such to rile you up, so when you spat, “Fuck you!” he could feign innocent victimhood.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I do have somewhere to be tonight—a family dinner. If you are serious about wanting to get me out of here, that’s where we’d go.” Of course, if you’d jumped at the offer to fuck him, he would have accepted that, too.

Now you were just confused. “You want… to take me to meet your parents? Why…?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, already kicking himself for what he was about to tell you. But fuck it. You would have to find out if you were going to help, and he could use you and your massive balls to solve his little dilemma. Ovaries? Yeah. Your big brass ovaries.

“My parents are expecting me to show up with my long-term girlfriend. They have been... annoyingly eager to meet her tonight, and she just fucking dumped me.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Being dumped sucked. Not that you’d ever take it out on a dozen coworkers, but assholes grieve differently. “How long were you together?”

“Three months.”

You blinked. “Oh my god, that is not a long-term relationship. Jesus, what standard are you going by? One-night stands?”

He bristled at the question, and you had a distinct impression that—yeah—the comparison was one-night stands.

“Irrelevant. I don’t want to spend the entire night fielding questions about what happened, sitting through my dad’s relationship advice, and dodging pitying glances.”

“So you invented a work emergency. Classy. Never thought I’d see the great Bryan Kneef, lady killer, on his knees over someone he dated for three months.

“I am not broken up about it,” he snapped. “I just don’t want to deal with the bullshit from my family. So, you want to get out of here? Pretend to be my date for a few hours. You don’t have a problem lying, do you? We can break up after New Year’s. Deal?”

“You’ll let everyone else go home?”

He protested and made a counter-offer, but after much bargaining and negotiation, he finally gave in and agreed to your terms.

And that was how you saved Christmas and became the unsung hero of the entire office. None of your coworkers would know the sacrifice you made for them, the awkward dinner you had to endure, or all of the illuminating secrets you would learn that night about the biggest asshole at the firm.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: 

@beccabarba​ / @caked-crusader​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​

[random-imagines-blog]

Over {Thorin Oakenshield x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @queenofmankind​ Wordcount: 2492 Summary: The dwarves have been debating an important issue for a few months now. What happens when you offer a solution that impresses a certain King?

The meetings of dwarves were always long and full of tension. Arguments always erupted between Thorin Oakenshield, and Dain, and there were some problems that even Fili, and Balin having trouble solving. You  had been thinking about the solution to the main problem that they have been addressing, but it was not your place to offer. You were just here as a secretary, on top of being both a human and a woman, both of whom never sat in these discussions. It was only because Thorin had vouched for you that you were here at all. It was a little terrifying, knowing how precarious your situation was and how you could be ejected from the dwarves at any time. You had been helpful during the battle of the five armies, suggesting strategy to Bard who then passed it on to Thorin and Thranduil, which helped to win the mountain back. This place was like a home to you now - and the dwarves like family.

The main problem was the injured and how to take care of them. There was more than enough wealth to go around and the dwarves who had suffered in the wars were well compensated - but at the same time, they were arguing that they didn’t want to just hang around in bed doing nothing. It was not the dwarven way to be lazy. But all of the reconstruction jobs have already been given to the more able-bodied, and they weren’t about to be putting them out of work to give into the needs of the few. It was a difficult dilemma, and though a few things have been suggested, they’ve either been vetoed or tried for a day and then shut down.

You had written down all that had been said that night, and the meeting was coming to a close, when a solution popped into your head. You looked around the room, hoping that there may be a lull in which you could say it. But the arguments gained in escalation, with Thorin saying that he was not going to remove his dwarves from their task because he is the King Under the Mountain and he makes those decisions, while Dain was defending his own who were hurt from the battle that Thorin had started.

“Oh, hello!” Balin said, standing tall. Or as tall as he could on his own. You hadn’t noticed that he had been watching you, but he had been keeping a particularly close eye. He had seen something go across your face. An idea, perhaps. Anything to stop these two from arguing. “I think that y/n has an idea, and I think that we should listen to her!”

“Ay, why should we listen to her human ideas? She knows nothing about the affairs of dwarves!” Dain complained, just as he had when you had first started joining these meetings.

“And neither did a hobbit, and look at where Bilbo brought us,” Thorin interjected on your behalf. He looked at you with his wise blue eyes, and gave you a nod to say what was on your mind. Dain crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, not interested in learning, while the others looked at you with excitement. It would be the first time you would be speaking at one of these meetings; and Kili and Fili did notice that it was Thorin encouraging you. That would come up later.

You cleared your throat as you realized that all of the attention was on you. “I - I was just thinking, I don’t have a thorough solution or anything...”

“Sometimes a thought can change the world,” Balin encouraged, leaning forward with a smile on his old features. He was being very kind and welcoming, and it pushed you to go ahead and say your idea.

“Well, dwarves aren’t the only ones working on piecing their land back together,” You said outloud, focusing your eyes on Thorin although it was his opinion that you were the most afraid of. If he dismissed you outright, it would hurt like mad. “Laketown and the surrounding area were destroyed by Smaug. And yes, they have the gold to repair it and make it grander than before, but they don’t have the men. Or the materials.”

“Yes, we’ve heard the complaints,” Dain interrupted. Dwalin shushed him loudly, but he continued. “Are you sayin’ that we should go and do the work for the humans?”

“That’s ... not exactly it,” You said, the wheels in your mind turning. This was your chance to be taken seriously and you were going to seize it. “I know that the injured are healing but some have ... disabilities. We can’t expect them to do the careful work of the healthy, working with forges and the like. They could hurt themselves, or others that way. But they are still more than capable of doing other work if they stop being so ... stubborn.”

“Ye think we’re being stubborn now, just you wait til I tell em about this-” Dain said, but was shushed once more. This time he seemed to listen.

“A trading post,” You said, just as the words popped into your head. “They still have control of the lake, which means that you would need their permission in order to get fish. And other food, because it’s not as if dwarves can live off of eating rocks ... can you?”

You looked over to one of the dwarves who was closest to you, Nori. He shook his head. “I didn’t think so,” You continued with a little laugh, which Fili and Kili joined in on. “So they might not be able to handle a hammer and anvil, but surely they can work a boat or carts, set their own hours, make their own pay? That’s part of the problem, isn’t it? They feel like charity because you’re just giving them gold without them really earning it? At least, that would offend me partly. I can’t speak for dwarves, obviously.”

“It is something that we will think on,” Thorin grunted. At least he didn’t outright dismiss you, which was more than you bargained for. “Meeting is over - we’ll talk about it next month.”

The dwarves bundled up their things, with Dain doing the most since he was going the farthest. He gave you a look that was most queer. You couldn’t read it, you couldn’t tell if it was a good look or a bad look. Before you could determine that, he looked away, and took off to head back to his own home, leaving you with your own company of dwarves for a little better.

“That’s clever, actually,” Fili said, turning up on one side of you, while his brother was on the other. They were who you would say you were closest to within the company.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, honestly,” Kili piped up.

“If you’re still trying to impress uncle, you’re doing a good job.”

“Hush,” You said quickly, clapping your hand over the prince’s mouth before he could say much more. You looked over your shoulder to see if Thorin had heard, but he didn’t appear to. He was talking with Balin rather animatedly.

That was another reason why you were the closest with them. Because, unfortunately, they had caught the looks that you had been giving the King. After that, it seemed like a better idea to be on their good side than on their bad. They might tell and poof, your position goes away because of a simple case of...

It was love, wasn’t it?

It had gone beyond the crush that you had when you first saw the blue eyes peeking out from behind the mounds of hair. Now you understood why so many of the people around him loved him. Why every one of these dwarves would have died for him. It was not only the cause that was great, but the dwarf behind them.

“‘Ello Uncle, good meeting today, wasn’t it?” Kili said, making you release Fili quickly and look towards the King. You smiled nervously, awaiting the verdict.

“I’d like to talk to y/n, alone,” He grunted, looking at his nephews. They looked at each other, and sheepishly smiled.

“Just like to say that was a very Queen-ly idea,” Kili stated, then bowed out of the room.

“I’d give her a promotion if I were you,” Fili said, leaving as well. You chuckled nervously at their attempts to win your favor with Thorin, but largely, you were worried that it would only have the opposite effect.

“Okay, now that the meeting is over, I’d like to apologize,” You said before he could tear into you for speaking out of turn.

“For what?” Thorin asked. You bit the inside of your cheek, expecting a reaction but not a question.

“I know that my position here is just to record the meetings, and not to give ideas. I wouldn’t have said anything if I hadn’t been asked by Balin. I don’t have the experience to suggest such things, it was just something that came into my head.”

“You’re  not confident in your own ideas,” Thorin observed, stroking his beard with his rough fingers. He sat back down at the table and kicked out a chair for you to join him, across from him. Hesitantly, you took the seat. “I was going to ask you if you have anymore. I’m going to tell Dain to suggest the idea to the dwarves. Let them decide their fate.”

“You are?”

Thorin nodded in response. He wasn’t a man of many words, more so a man of displeased sounds, so the fact that he was talking to you now was a big deal. “There’s been some other issues that have been bothering me. I’d like your input.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you bring any of them up when the meeting was going on?” You asked, looking at your papers. The only real issue on the docket was the one that you might have resolved.

“I like to have solutions before the problems are brought up,” Thorin said. You nodded, supposing that made sense, and listened to him as he unloaded what was on his mind.

-

Bombur found the both of you two hours later, still talking in the room. He brought you guys dinner - some rabbit stew that was made. Fili and Kili found you two an hour after that, still in the room. This time you were taking down notes, and doing most of the talking while Thorin was listening. After that, the two of you were left alone because everyone else had retired to their bedrooms.

Thorin kept his eyes on you as you talked. You had a lot of motion inside of you. You drew things to explain your point, you waved your arms around, it was like you were putting on a one-woman show. You displayed passion, much like the way that Thorin had when he had set out to reclaim the mountain. And he was struck by how intelligent you were. All of your ideas seemed more than feasible.

You had ideas about how to solve the food shortage, how to better farm the area, and even how some of the disabled dwarves could help with both of those things. Thorin didn’t say much, only brought up a couple of questions which you explained.

It was only when you finally started to show signs of exhaustion that he stopped you from going on. He held up a hand when he asked if you had any other questions, then got to his feet. “You’ve worked hard enough for tonight, lass,” He said. “I have more than enough to bring to the council. And they will listen to their King.”

“Oh, of course, you’re right,” You said, remembering that it would be him who would be presenting your ideas, rather than yourself. Thorin, though rather clueless at times about what other people are thinking, saw a doubt rush across your face.

“So I will back your ideas, and make sure that you are heard.” Thorin finished. He liked seeing the excited look come back into your eyes, and the smile of triumph. “It is late - I will walk you to your room.”

“Thank you,” You said. The lantern was sitting on the table, the wick of the candle inside beginning to wane. You both reached for it at the same time, and your fingertips touched on top of the handle. You were the one to pull away after a couple of prolonged seconds, and Thorin just grabbed hold of it. It was difficult to pretend that he did not just feel a spark that sent his heart alight.

Queenly idea, Kili had said? Perhaps that was so. You had all of the makings of a great leader, and you were just beginning to make it known. An excellent choice, despite the fact that you were a human while he was a dwarf. “I pronounce this meeting to be over.”

Over. No more time with you tonight, but it must be done. There was work to do tomorrow, but perhaps, just maybe, he might be able to see you tomorrow.

He lead the way through the confusing halls of the inside of the mountain, before stopping outside of the room that has been claimed as yours. It was one of the bigger ones - as a lady, all of the male dwarves thought you should have it. He stopped outside of the door and turned to face you for the last time that night.

“Goodnight-” You started, but at the same time-

“Y/N,” Thorin had sputtered. You blinked, a little surprised that he was saying your name.

“Yes?” You questioned, looking up at him with your beautiful eyes.

“Would you care to join me for dinner tomorrow night, so we can discuss this more?” Never had he been so nervous to ask a question. He wondered how Kili ever talked to Tauriel without feeling the winged things in his stomach.

“Yes, I think that would be wonderful,” You said with a smile. “Until the day is over then?”

“Until the day is over. Goodnight.”

Thorin waited until you were safe inside your bedroom, with the door closed, before he went down the hallways to his own quarters. Sleep seemed a waste of time to him throughout most of his life, since he had so much to live up to. But now, he was looking forward to it. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he would be awake, and the sooner that dinner would come around and he could listen to you talk until the meeting was over.

[har-rison-s]

your worth

request: Loki Smut please! Perhaps both Reader & Loki are in love with each other but in denial. Loki thinks he's a monster and a human could never love him til she proves him wrong.

A/N: Listen,,,, I live for this type of smut. I don't know why. Something about comforting someone or making them feel like they matter is... I love. God, I probs sound desperate. But honestly, I just want to love someone :> Anyway :D I love this request, if you can't already tell, and I hope you'll like it. I hope the anon who requested this is still following me! Truth is, I started writing this one back in July 2019 and got around to finish it two days ago and I've finally done it! it's been tough, that's for sure, I've had many writer's block moments. And I think this is actually my first ever Loki thing. It must be, yeah. Though I feel like I've wrote his character a million years already. I certainly did my best on this one. Smut is always a tad harder than fluff or angst for me and I wish to improve my skills at writing it.  Happy reading! Love you all!

main masterlist

mcu masterlist

warnings: angst, smut, comfort.

“Oh, Steve! Star-crossed lovers, seven o'clock.” Tony speaks, seeing Y/N and Loki walking - unplanned - together into the kitchen. Loki rolls his eyes while Y/N does nothing, perhaps only glancing at Loki for a split second, in fear. She searches for any shared emotion between them, even if it may be discomfort. Anything they could share. Loki and her are both tired from Tony's and Sam's constant teasing. But, like the mentioned two, the rest of the team also see what's really going on between Y/N and Loki.

Now, Loki is in bigger denial than Y/N, because her feelings are showing more above the surface, easier to read. She’s recently realised it, hence she tries her best to conceal her feelings, her embarrassment, her truth, so no one could ‘crack her’. She would love to share these feelings with someone, scream them from the top of the Stark tower so that the whole world knows of it, and, most of all, to share them with Loki. 

But Loki... He’s cold. He denies her supposed feelings, and his own when asked about it. He himself can't accept that someone like her, a beautiful girl inside out, a caring and loving one, could like, much less love, someone like him. Well, there's no one else like him, but... Loki's a monster. A villain in his eyes and those of others. He’s been cowardly and submissive his whole life, committed crimes in hopes of earning love, attention… Acceptance. He’s betrayed his dearest, and is known as a galaxy-wide criminal and villain. Who and how could ever feel such things as love or affection towards him? 

“Your endless teasing is growing pathetic, tin-man.” Loki says to Tony, grabbing the coffee machine's handle to pour himself a cup of the terran liquid. A liquid he’s learned to love the taste of over these several months he’s spent in the tower. Tony snorts. To that Loki only shoots the man a look, though he wished he hadn’t.

“Tony, you should stop. It is starting to get old, this joke of yours.” Steve points out and turns over a page in the paper he's reading. Y/N makes quick work of taking sandwiches from the fridge. Mainly because she hates to be the topic of anyone's open discussion, but also because she can't bear hearing Loki denying his love for her. Truth be told, it hurts her very much.

Y/N only puts a dirty bowl in the dishwasher and walks out of the kitchen, leaving the others feeling quite empty with her leave. Loki's eyes sadden a bit upon it, though he erases that soon. He would have loved to be alone with her in the kitchen. Merely her presence soothes him, simply the breath that leaves her chest through her nose, her quiet touch of hand on counter and feet on floor. But not when these two are around. Her alone. It's far too many people for Y/N there, too many eyes and needless constant comments of the head of the team, hence she decided to come back later. 

She could always enjoy Loki’s presence in their lonesome, but not with others present. Though when she does have the chance, she cannot enjoy it for her nerves and anxiousness, her insecurities. 

“Not until something happens.” Tony states, his chin resting in his hand. “I believe—”

“Whatever theory you are about to voice, Stark, will prove you wrong.” Loki interrupts him, putting on a false smile and batting his eyelashes mockingly. Tony and Steve both look at the god drinking coffee. Loki’s gaze is unbreakable on the two.

“—that my teasing, as you call it, will do the exact trick that needs to be done in order for you to get over all this and just—tell each other everything!” Tony raises his hands in the air and looks at Steve. The captain shakes his head at Tony and looks back down at his paper, merely as tired of this as Loki and Y/N are. He’s thinking of leaving the kitchen soon, too.

“And what would you call 'everything'?” Asks Loki. The master of hiding anything that comes from his heart or his mind, hiding his true intentions. He's playing them both for fools. And himself. He knows what he feels, but he doesn't want to acknowledge it and is afraid to state his feelings.

“Oh, please,” Tony starts with an eye roll, “do I really have to tell you what you want to tell her? Honesty - is it not familiar in your realm?” A pause. “Your undying longing! You want each other, it's clear as day!”

“You don't know what you are talking about. Your human eyes see what you want them to—which is false—for what reason, I cannot guess,” Loki says, “no one could feel... longing for me. Or want me. That'd be...”

“Impossible?” Steve suggests. Loki gives him a look. “Surprises myself, this what I say, but that’s not true.” Loki now gives him a confused look. 

“What could be so wrong with a regular girl liking you? Or being with one?” Tony questions. “You’re discriminating the human race, huh.”

“What's in it for you, regular man?” Loki asks, squinting his eyes at the two men. Tony laughs, but Loki ignores it and slams his empty coffee mug into the sink, leaving the kitchen afterwards in a surprisingly calm stride. 

“Hey, horns! No dishes in the sink!” Tony calls after Loki, but he gets no response. Steve looks at his team-mate.

“Really think something as big as a god would care about a dirty, empty cup of coffee?” He asks and closes the newspaper he was trying to read. Tony once again is at fault for his failure.

“Worth a shot.”

“You're the worst match-maker I've met.” Steve admits and stands up from the kitchen table, leaving the room afterwards. Tony frowns, but doesn't doubt himself either way. He knows he's right. About the coffee cup and about Y/N's and Loki's probability of being a thing. It'll happen at some point. 

“Wanna bet?” Stark calls out to the hallway Steve walked down, but he gets no response from the super soldier. Instead, another voice speaks.

“Bet on what?” Tony hears Y/N's sweet voice behind him, entering the now empty and lonesome kitchen. Unnoticed, she slipped in the room through another door, good for quiet entries, but far from her own room. 

“Oh, you came back.” Tony states and Y/N eyes him across the table they're at. “Didn't like me and Steve sharing you two's company, huh?”

“Me and who's company?” She asks, confusion riddling her face as she makes herself sandwiches, again. The plate that adorned the previous ones now in the sink next to Loki’s cup. The mischief god has noticed her appetite and skill for handmade sandwiches, and the sight of her making another pair usually paints a warm smile on his lips.

“Just your one and only.” Tony says in a sickeningly sweet sing-song kind of voice, decoratively placing his palms under his chin. 

Y/N scowls. “There's nothing between me and Loki and I doubt there ever will be.” She says and even chuckles at the end, when instead she wants to wallow in pity cause that's the probability that is bound to happen. No happy ending, no love from him, no affection, no reading books together, no gazing at the stars, nothing shared… None of that. Only loneliness and longing now left for her.

“So you do hope for something to happen?” Tony questions and Y/N gives him an angry look.

“Why would I? I'm not ready for relationships.” She replies carelessly with a simple lie that’d struck the god in question straight into the heart. Only she wanted to add, unless Loki would want one with me. But she didn't. She doesn't like him, she doesn't want him. It'd be silly if I did. “Did you talk about... anything with him?” She betrays herself with these words.

Tony nods, grinning to himself. He has cracked her. There are feelings involved. “He said that, and I'm using his words, someone longing for him, wanting him, is impossible. And a human feeling it is even more impossible.” He says. “Basically, he dodged a bunch of questions, but we all know what’s really going on.”

“Sure does sound like him.” Y/N agrees quietly. Silence falls between the two as Y/N slices salad with a knife. Tony sighs.

“Could you please do yourselves and us a favor and cut the damn sexual tension between you?”

“A what now?” Y/N echoes, scoffing, a shocked expression on her face. “Firstly, if I was to do something, it wouldn't be because of you. I do things for myself, thank you very much. I don't need a motivator.” 

“And secondly?” Tony asks, looking strongly at Y/N. She realises after a moment she has nothing to add to her second point. Well, nothing that Tony should know from her. “You'll feel much better if you get everything sorted out.” Tony states and Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Stark.” She says before walking out of the kitchen for the second time this morning. Tony stays in his pose for a few seconds, wondering if he has worked his plan out and if it will work out on its own.

The day goes by and Y/N has found herself suffering from anxiety throughout it. She doubts herself, she worries about, perhaps, showing too much of her true feelings outwardly. This love, this unreturned, one-sided love should not exist. She should never have had such affectionate feelings towards him. She’s lesser than him, and he sees her so, as anyone of his title and kind would. He is a god, a god thrice older than a thousand years, the same amount older than Y/N herself.

She is a simple human girl, she’s only gifted, that’s what could ever make her special in the eyes of someone his kind. She cannot compare to him, or his brother. She’s so little against the metaphorical and physical him, they simply… do not match. He knows this well and could never return the feelings because of this. She’s stupid to even hope for that. 

But she knows little of what he thinks of her. She’d be delighted, to say the least, if she’d ever hear his thoughts aloud. He thinks of her heavenly, much more heavenly than himself and any other creature he’s seen. He thinks of her as sent from the Allfathers, a precious gift to all everyone she meets in her life. She’s truly all grace, love and beauty merged into one human being and Loki longs everyday to be bathed in it. He may only dream of it, though until a point. 

Both of them spent the Saturday in their rooms, in their personal agonies. Many days like this have come and gone in their lives, days when Y/N is not on a mission, going out with the others, grocery shopping or doing anything otherwise productive. Y/N would be ready to write this Saturday down as the worst in her life until a certain minute struck past nine in the evening. 

The team had gone out, an occasion Y/N was not ready to accompany them on tonight. Some type of celebration, maybe? Well, it always is, no matter the reason. So they left Y/N and some other usual sulkers to their own devices, one of them being Loki. Due to his surprisingly kind heart, tonight he decided on going to Y/N’s room, accompany her, if he may, all by her lonesome, and set his mind right by telling her how she feels.

He was pacing a bit before he headed the needed floor up the tower. Hands touching and mushing his own face times and times over, eyes bulging out of their sockets purely out of torturing anxiety. He moved his hair back, he tousled it back into messy locks, over and over. Having no peace in his mind or body. 

Loki could fail miserably, doing what he’s intended to. He could give out his whole heart and soul to her, and she could laugh in his face. Crying would not be as bad as laughing, so he hopes crying is the worst to come of it. But it could not be the worst… The worst of all outcomes would be her inability to return the feelings. Gods, no… Loki hopes to all whose hands it’s in that she does not have this inability. 

A knock comes softly to Y/N’s door. She raises her head from her book with curious eyes and raised eyebrows. She presses the button to open the sliding door, and to her most surprise, Loki almost falls through when the door opens. He is not used to this kind of technology, not yet. He leaves his door open, as in Asgard the bedrooms did not really have doors that can open and close. There were no doors at all. 

Both their eyes meet and Y/N rises from her bed right to her feet, not letting the book go so her fingers would have something to nibble on out of stress. “Loki,” she says, her surprise very apparent in her voice still. The god simply stands in her doorway as the door closes automatically, dressed in… Oh, he looks gorgeous. Loki wears a green linen shirt, his signature colour, similar to those from medieval times, wide sleeves and strings instead of buttons. He does wear dress pants, though, which look like part of a formal suit two-piece, “good evening.” 

“Good evening, my lady.” Loki greets back. 

“What brings you here?” Y/N asks and tries to adjust her pyjama shorts, suddenly realising how undressed she is compared to Loki. Her stripy, loose button up and pyjama shorts are not her best look. 

“Well, I—“ for a moment, Loki looks and acts like his regular self, seemingly about to burst out with a joke or a trick, his mannerisms tell her so. He glances at the corner of Y/N’s bed. “May I sit down?” He asks with innocent eyes. Y/N nods in response, gesturing for him to do so. He nods, sits down on her bed, his pose reserved and a bit stale. Y/N walks now to stand in front of him, but not too close. “I have come to tell you something.” 

Y/N has rarely seen Loki this… gentle, this… fragile, sort of. He does not look like himself, but then again there looks to be revealed more a lot more of him than usual. Purely looking at his face, Y/N wants to whimper ‘i love you’, and she almost does. But thank god for self-control. 

She crosses her arms over her chest out of habit. “I’m listening.” She says, a million positive and negative guesses going through her mind like a thousand volcanoes, making noise and chaos in there, most of all—permitting her to think clearly. 

“I beg you to take this—what I will say—kindly.” Loki says, a saddened expression on his face. “It scares me and tears me apart to say, but I must for my own and your sake.” He starts and takes a deep breath. Here comes ‘i can’t stand you’, ‘i hate you’, ‘i don’t like your company’. Y/N furrows her eyebrows and tries to shut those thoughts out. “I find you, Y/N, very attractive, beautiful, really, the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met. And not only physically.” Her breath catches in her throat. “You are grace, beauty and wisdom in one body. You are… You are an angel sent from the Gods above to this Earth…”

Seeing the look on Y/N’s face, the look of surprise and confusion and eyes on the brink of crying, Loki’s doubts on himself begin to take over.

“I should not have those feelings for you, it is wrong for me to think of you this way, to,” he gulps, “to want to cherish you day and night, to give you as much love as you give away and deserve in return, and much more; to lay you gently to sleep and give every goodnight to you, as well as see you every morning that I wake. It is wrong.” Loki shakes his head and looks at you, clearly ashamed to have exposed his heart and yearnings like this, to someone, and ashamed of their truth. 

Tears do gather in Y/N’s eyes and she unconsciously drops her book before rushing to stand before the god, carefully cradling his face between her hands. “Why do you think it’s wrong?” She whispers, scared, but searching his eyes for the answer. Loki’s pleasantly taken aback by her action. 

“Because… look at me. You know well who I am.” Loki starts explaining after looking into Y/N’s eyes. “You know what I’ve done, the people I’ve hurt, the way I am, I’m—I’m—I’m a monster.” Loki finishes and guiltily eyes the girl cradling his cold cheeks. She closes her eyes, tears squeezing past her lids, and shakes her head.

“You are no monster.” She whispers even quieter than before. She opens her eyes to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead, which freezes him. She’s in agony, because her greatest love is thinking of himself so low. Loki’s ready to disagree with her, but she speaks before him. “You are not.” She shakes her head again, looking into Loki’s eyes, begging him to listen and believe her, feeling it’s hard to do so. He’s been hurt and he’s been mislead, there’s no wonder he wouldn’t believe every person he speaks with. But with her, it might be different. 

Y/N puts her forehead against Loki’s. “You long for love, and appreciation, and I can relate to that deeply.” She tells him. “But I can also give you that what you desire.” She says and draws back to look into Loki’s eyes once again. He’s unsure, shown by his face, but willing at the same time. 

Loki locks his hand around her wrist, but gently. “Are you certain?” 

“Do not ask me if I’m certain. I have waited, it seems, my whole life, to give it all to you. And you only.” Y/N assures him. Her finger runs along the side of his face slowly, admiring the milky skin adorning his body. “Can I show you?”

“I’d love nothing less.” Loki says, agreeing to give himself to her freely. So she takes him, pushing Loki down on the soft covers and mattress of her bed and balancing herself on top of him. Her knees are on each side of his hips, pressing into the mattress as Y/N straightens her back above him.

Loki wants to keep this exact moment in his memory. She, with tears in her eyes, but with her beautiful hair falling around her face and shoulders, starts unbuttoning her striped shirt. Her face the most beautiful face, as always, and her eyes boring into him. Her crotch pressing into his lower stomach. Loki dares to moves his hands to her thighs, exploring the skin and flesh on her upper legs. Only groping them makes him more hungry and yearning for her.

Y/N doesn’t unbutton her shirt fully, she’s too impatient out of want to know how his lips feel, how he kisses, how his lips would move against hers. So she moves down to Loki, his face showing complete submission to her. Her hand caresses the edge of his hair at his forehead, then her fingers swipe against his cheek. These touches are already almos orgasmic to Loki, he leans into her touch like a kitten who hasn’t known home for long, and he mewls at her feather caresses.

Finally, her hand moves to the back of his neck, the fingertips just trace into the roots of his hair, she’s cradling his head. Their lips almost touch, and Loki can already feel them on his, just a few inches, and he’ll fall in love with her even more than he has already. The fatal kiss, he might call it. 

He leans up out of impatience, but she already presses down, and they meet each other halfway. Whatever Y/N had thought would be kissing him like, what it actually feels like is a hundred, thousand, million times better. It is far better than she has felt in her life. 

Loki’s mind goes numb. He never thought he could get this much satisfaction and pleasure from a mortal being. He never thought his expectations would be out-done. He thinks he’ll never feel anything that could out-do this in his long life. Now this kiss captures everything that they feel for each other intensely. All the love and lust, yearning and hunger, longing and reaching. All of it, in one kiss. How is that even possible? 

Love must be magic.

Instinctively, Loki’s hands grasp Y/N’s thighs harder, pulling her closer to him. But her rolling back into place creates a grind against the god’s slender body, which makes Loki moan and all the more impatient. He longs to feel every inch of her against him, around him, on him, it doesn’t matter. He just needs to feel her.

Y/N presses another kiss on Loki’s lips, and another, and another. When she doesn’t, her mouth open in a gasp, Loki chases her lips and connects them both again. Her hands move to untie the front of Loki’s shirt, but when that is not enough, she untucks the shirt from his pants and slides her hands under the green shirt. Her hands feel warm against his chest, and his skin to her feels a little colder than her own chest. 

The skin is smooth and a little slithery, Y/N cannot guess why. Does he use some special shower gel? Or was he born with skin like that? 

Loki’s fingers cautiously wander around her hips and waist, wanting to explore every inch of her body, to know it, to know it best of anyone. But Y/N feels impatient, teased by his touch, and she grabs his hands in her own, straightening up again. 

She moves his hands under her shirt now, both their actions mirrored, similar as they are both equally curious about the other. “You are not wrong to love me the way you do.” She assures him. “Touch me as you please, I have longed for your complete touch for the longest time.”

Loki would have cried out that he loves her more than anything, but he’s much too turned on to do so. She is sitting right above his growing-by-the-second arousal, causing them both teased pleasure and more arousal. Y/N lets his hands go, lets them wander on their own, feeling afterwards Loki’s touch on her waist, her back, her stomach. While she herself opens the top of his trousers and shrugs them down his legs carelessly, not interested in whether they are or are not completely off. She can only think about him.

His hands grip her back, pulling her down onto him. His next move is to get her pyjama shorts off, and he does so in a hurry. Once the garment is off, Loki grips the back of her head, Y/N’s hair bunching up and twisting under his fingers. Their lips interlock in an intense kiss, so intense, so full of emotion, that both involved shed tears. And the tears wet the other’s cheeks and lips, and they can taste the salt of the drops in each kiss they share.

Y/N thinks Loki’s fingers might dig holes into her back from the way he’s holding her. She pulls away from his lips and locks eyes with Loki again. “Make love to me.” She requests in a hushed whisper. Loki’s eyebrows raise for just a second, but he gets right on it, or rather, on her. 

Loki gently lays her down on her own bed and kisses her neck, her collarbones, his hands already back to her waist. Y/N lets her hands lay by her head, sighs leaving her lips in pleasure, her chest moving up and down in semi-hiccups. Loki’s hair tickles her chest as do his lips, but he decides he cannot watch her from above for any longer.

“I am at your mercy.” He tells her, returning them both to the position they were in previously. Loki’s head now resting against the headboard, looking at her from below again. He loves this much more. Y/N manages a smile, resting both her hands on Loki’s heaving, growing-hot chest. 

“I love you.” She whispers to him, and doing so, she tears up. Loki smiles at her, though a bit sadly, and makes her giggle as well. She takes the back of Loki’s neck again and pulls it towards herself, their foreheads once again pressed together. They pant, they cry and they laugh. It might sound insane, but they don’t much care. 

“I love you.” Loki responds, his eyes looking so sincerely and strongly into hers. Y/N looks over what she sees of Loki an she smiles wide again, disbelief adorning her eyes. She cannot phatom the place and situation she’s in, she cannot phatom the person she’s with most of all. She whispers her love to him over and over, panting breaths interrupting her words, as well as her own kisses on Loki’s lips and cheeks. She pulls him closer to herself, whether it be possible or not, by the back of his neck, gripping his muscles under her delicate touch. 

Loki gives her kisses back, very heated kisses, that each leave her running after fresh breath. Neither of them can wait no longer, and so Loki helps her get her underwear off and Y/N takes his length to line up with her entrance. Her face twists and she draws in a gasp of very high pitch when the tip is teasing her walls, Loki can’t deny his own sensitivity to the feeling. She feels so warm, she feels so silky, and she’ll be around him—

She takes over and pushes him whole inside of her, immediately awakening sounds and feelings in them both they didn’t know they could muster. Both of them freeze, mouths agape and eyes shut tight, their hands interlocked so tightly they might break each other’s bones. 

“Gods, darling…” Loki sighs, speaking finally. She might have thought he went dead for the moment he tried to comprehend he’s really feeling this, he’s really buried himself inside of her, he’s really having this moment with her. Not any other guy or man, him, Loki. 

Y/N shudders. With this first thrust already she can feel him near her spot. His size is incredible, and he’s quite thick. Though a little stretching and stinging at that, there’s pleasure much more than any pain. “C-Can I move?” She asks, opening her eyes to look on Loki. He nods, massaging her hand with his thumb over, readying them both for what’s to come.

She moves upwards, though lazily, and moans at the feeling of him reeling against her walls. She sinks down as deep as she can and lifts herself up again, now pressing their intertwined hands against Loki’s bare chest for support. He lets go of her hands and instead returns them to her waist. Going up and down on him, his hands were extra support. Because, honestly, she’s in such a trance from the feeling that she can barely make herself move. 

Her hands move to his shoulders for even more support and her chest leans towards his, as much rythmically as her hip movements do. Soon enough he thrusts his hips to meet hers, and from then on their movements increase in speed. There is not enough air in the world for them to catch, there is never enough sound for them to show their satisfaction through. Mostly, there is not enough of each other they can get.

Loki pulls her down to himself merely to kiss her, feeling himself nearing the edge. His hand grips her face just right and Y/N clenches around him. It makes Loki accidentally bite down on her lip. She gasps and, oh, oh—she’s coming. She’s coming, and her nails dig into the flesh of his shoulders. She is certain she now knows what drugs feel like. But this is certainly better than any drug. Because it’s love, and it’s passion, and it’s wonderful…

“Tell me you’re close,” she begs Loki, mid-orgasm.

“I am,” he confirms, “I love you.” He tells her again, reminding her and himself. He reminds himself because, for the first time in his life, his love and yearning to give his love, has been fulfilled. And returned. And he’s got to keep that in mind. Loki’s eyes look begging, almost praying to her, praying for her love.

He looks into her eyes when they both come, surprisingly in unison, but their eye contact is scarce mostly, her eyes are shut tight. She sings tunes of ecstasy, still barely moving on his length, as best she can. Loki fills her ears with growls and moans he’s finally not afraid to let out. 

When she looks at him and nods ever so subtly, he understands with it that she’s done and he can pull out. So he does, slowly, making her mewl out of sensitivity. She feels a little sore, but it’s an ache she excuses because of who has made her so. She looks at him.

He helps her steady herself on top of him, her nakedness sitting on his stomach. They both do their best at getting their breath back, and as Y/N regains herself, she nears her face down to Loki’s. Their eyes lock. Loki puts his hands on both her cheeks. They share a gentle kiss and lay silently for a few moments, simply looking at each other and marveling in the wonder of one another.

“I never expected someone as delicate and gentle,” Loki admits in a soft whisper, “to love me.” His hand softly moves to caress her hair. She tilts her head. 

“But you’re so…” she whispers herself, then unable to finish her thought and sentence, “you are so…” she struggles still. Loki smiles, even daring to chuckle. She looks at him, more disrupted by his laugh, but a small smile playing on her lips anyway, “you are so everything.” She finally says. “Everything I could ever want.”

“What about what you need?” Loki asks, his hand reaching for hers. She laughs, shaking her head.

“I don’t care about what I need as long as I know that my wants are equal to my needs.” She assures. Loki frowns.

“You needn’t throw yourself away for me, love.” 

Y/N leans closer to him. “I have already done that.” She says and gives his cheek a kiss. “I’ll do that and more for you. And not just because you’re handsome, and not just because of you.” She starts to say and Loki raises his eyebrows, curious. “I knew at some point you’d be the one I love, and I’ve waited my whole life for someone I could love, someone I could give everything to.” She leans back up. “And I feel I’ve been made to love, you know, to love another or many. I guess you came along at the right moment. And even while I doubted you ever returning these feelings, even when I was convinced you didn’t feel the same, convinced you hated me. Loving you was enough for me.”

She looks back at him from looking around the whole time and finds Loki with tears in his eyes. “Sorry.” She says. “That just… came out.”

“Do not be sorry.” Loki shakes his head. “That was very beautiful, I think, because it’s the truth and it’s from you. Your heart’s ways are beautiful.” Y/N blushes at his words. Loki’s head then hangs a bit lower. “I was never sure I could be some who you could love. I’m me, and I may call myself a big chaos. I am not easy to love, so you’ve done a great job.”

“Why do you think so?” Y/N asks, now moving to lay in between Loki’s legs, her chin on his chest. Loki raises his eyebrows. “That you’re hard to love.”

“I have done terrible things, my darling… And I’ve lied. A lot.” Loki nods for effect. “And well, I’m the God of Mischief.” They both laugh. Of course he had to mention that, his arrogance does spring out. “So I doubt anyone could trust me.”

“Don’t tell me you’re no good for me.” 

“Took my words, sweet girl.”

“Loki, I love you.” Y/N looks strongly into his eyes. “And we are good for each other.” She says in an angelic voice. “I know you disagree, but I can learn from you.”

“What exactly, darling, lying? Tricks?” Loki suggests with a sly grin.

Y/N laughs. “No.” She says then. “You’ll see.” Y/N rests the side of her face against Loki’s chest, also listening to his heartbeat. She wraps her arms around his torso and Loki’s hands go to hold her arms, almost protectively. Almost as if she’d disappear if he doesn’t hold onto her. “How much time will it take for you to realise your worth?”

____

Bonus material!

Before falling asleep the night before, Loki and Y/N agreed to making sandwhiches together, more so, Y/N teaching him how to actually make those. He complimented her skill and liking for sandwhiches, Y/N had blushed. So here they were, in their pajamas and in the Stark Tower’s kitchen, cutting lettice and ham and cheese all sorts that Loki’d wish to see in a sandwhich. Some combinations seemed strange to Y/N, but she trusted his taste and decided she wouldn’t try those exact ones.

“No, no, stop!” She scolds in a shushed whisper, with a smile playing on her lips. “Those are too narrow. Salad needs to be big, you know, with volume. Great size!” She decoratively growls at the last two words.

“Like myself.” Loki says and chuckles.

“Yes, mister, thank you for reminding me verbally. This time.” Y/N replies and returns to cutting cheese.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh not-maliciously.” Tony Stark declares in a whisper and takes more nuts from his snack bag. Steve Rogers takes some from the same bag before receiving a slap from Tony for it. 

“Never thought the out-come would be like this.” Steve admits. Both their eyes are hazy while watching Y/N and the god work around in the kitchen. They’re standing in the hallway right where the shadow starts from the kitchen light so the lovers wouldn’t notice them. They won’t be there for a long time, anyway. 

“Who are we watching?” Bucky Barnes asks when he comes up behind them with Natasha, and both grown men squeal in terror from the surprise, Tony dropping his snack bag. Bucky and Natasha burst into uncontrollable laughter while trying to pull the two team leaders further into the hallway to not get noticed. Well, with screams like little girls, that’s a little late.

Loki and Y/N look over their shoulders, spooked from the sound they heard but upon not hearing or seeing anything that could explain it—the former russian assassins did a great job of getting Steve and Tony away—they look at each other and shrug. Then they simply continue their culinary workshop in each other’s company. 

A/N: I really wanna hold Loki like that :/

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[smartbears]

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

Can’t we all just get along?  These infamous words spoken from the mouth of Reginald Dennehey gripped the hearts of whites who didn’t really give a damn about him.  They simply wrote Mr. D off as a martyr who gave new meaning to the term “taking one for the team.” Honestly, at that point in history, many whites almost felt guilty for their indifference to Jim Crow, Jerry Curls and the Underground Railroad; while Blacks marched around in T-shirts with a picture of the Isley Brothers holding cans of Old English Malt Liquor reading “Kill Whitey for Equality!”

The 90s were full of racial tensions that ran hotter than Michael Jackson’s head when it caught on fire during that Pepsi commercial.  Blacks and whites did intermingle during that decade; however, it became increasingly taboo.  Black kids were afraid to showcase their intellect in a classroom full of their peers for fear of “acting white.”  Whites were forbidden to wear Cross Colors or buy collard greens from the market and those that violated those orders were captured, taken into room 101 and forced to watch episodes of the Donna Reed Show while listening to Van Halen at a high volume, which didn’t go over so well.  Many detainees died.  Movies like Jungle Fever, Soul man and Whoopi Goldberg: An Act of Courage furthered the taboo that was interracial dating and cohabitation.  I’m not saying that it was unacceptable, it was just uncommon yet provided excellent dinner party fodder if you were aiming to make Peter and Kanesha uncomfortable for the evening.

Fast forward to 2021 and depending on which area of the US you’re in, it seems illegal to be Black or White.  Just seven years ago, Wilcox County High School in Georgia finally desegregated its prom.  School officials denied this was a progressive move adding that they just wanted the white students to have an equal opportunity at learning how to dance.  The KKK has given their sheets and hoods back to the Salvation Army in favor of judicial robes, shoes and suits.  The NAACP – Never Actually Advocating for Colored People- is still never actually advocating for colored people.   Awesome show great job guys!  The point I'm trying to make is that decades later, interracial dating and marriage is still more taboo than being gay or same sex marriage.  Racism is still present daily it’s just able to hide more efficiently in the era of political correctness.  Groups like Black Lives Matter are only creating a larger divide among blacks and whites, harming society more than ever.  Shows such as Black (ish) try to portray Blacks in a more positive light but seriously, Anthony Anderson seems more like Dick Van Dyke than Cliff Huxtable (The good wholesome Cliff, not the roofie concealing sexual deviant that we’ve come to loath). Blacks and Whites still seem to tip –toe around the issue of race and many are totally apprehensive about meaningful interactions in public; especially in the San Fernando Valley of California, which seems to operate like a level 4 prison yard at San Quentin.  There seems to be a stigma attached here that has been embedded in the psyche of society for a long time.  The South may fair better at Black and White relations because they are trying to shed their overall image of being a bunch of red-neck Confederate Civil War losing Honey Boo-Boo prostituting Duck Dynasty endorsing, forest preserve lynching Red Stagg drinking Kid Rock loving anarchists.  All for the love of your tourist dollars of course; yet they've still got their work cut out for them.  However, in the San Fernando Valley, people still seem to be irritated with Ebony and Ivory having intercourse.  

In the mall the other day, a White woman was in the same store as me and was glancing over like she was conspiring to make contact with a Black man in a public setting.  She walked by and whispered “Hi” like she didn’t want anybody to know she spoke.  I couldn’t tell if she wanted proposition me for a threesome with her husband or ask for my indentured servant papers.   Being Black in America has a totally different connotation than before.  Now, alliances must be formed, lines must be drawn and Kool Aid must be made.  Without love we’ll never make it to the promised land, where Blacks and Whites reproduce tiny little tan babies who will grow up to take the SATs only to identify as “other”, because terms like Mulato, mutt, Oreo and hybrid probably won't make the cut.  So, listen up.  All you Darkies with your dark problems engaging in dark tactics on dark streets wearing dark apparel.  And you too Whitey; rolling around in your white cars, washing up with white soap in your white society engaging in your white ways eating white chocolate.  Racism is a tool of division; keeping us fighting amongst ourselves so we are too distracted to fight the one true enemy of us all...

[salandition]

Something Amazing

Hop x Reader

A/N: here it is! The first fic in the fake!engagement series. I’ll be writing one fic for Piers, Raihan, Leon- and others, if people request it, but only one fic per character with this prompt. I’m really happy with this one and I think it’s a great way to start the series, so hopefully you all enjoy it, too! Enjoy some good Hop angst!

Added note: the beginning of the story is told in your POV, and then the story shifts to Hop’s POV for the rest of the fic.

———

There’s a lot of ways you could ask this question. Some good ways, some absolutely awful ways- it all depends on how you decide to approach him and how you formed your words. As you’ve found yourself backed against the corner, lacking all other options, you decided that as you ask this somewhat big favor, it needed to be formatted perfectly. The least you can do is make the idea seem appealing in some way, lace it and sprinkle some sugar over the idea to make it tempting. 

But when you’re finally alone with him, the perfect opportunity presented to you, you botch it all up as you ask in the lamest way possible:

“Would you want to get married? To me, maybe?” 

Hop elegantly spits and drops the several important books he was holding, one of them hitting him right in the foot as they fall to the floor. He yelps at the pain and almost falls over in surprise before you quickly rush over and catch him, the two of you making awkward eye contact as you hold him as if it’s a dip for a dance. 

To make it better, you drop him on accident. 

His back hits the floor with a hard ‘thud’ and your hands fly up to cover your mouth as you gasp. 

There were better ways to ask that question, and there were definitely better reactions to said question. You take half the credit for how horribly this went. The other half went to Hop and his lack of grace, because he’s always been like that, and you can’t control his explosive reactions to things. 

Except you know the man well, so you should have predicted he would’ve at least slipped. So, fine, you take two thirds of the credit. 

“I’m so sorry, Hop!” You apologize, and then you apologize again as he groans from his spot on the ground and he fumbles underneath him, holding a book that he most definitely landed on as well, “I’m so, so, so sorry, oh Arceus,” 

“Married?” Hop coughs, sitting up and fixing the glasses that sit on his face. Thankfully, they didn’t fall off- you would’ve felt even worse if that was the case. His golden eyes are shining and squinting in confusion as he looks up at you- “why- why? ...Why?” He sounds like a broken record, but you can hardly blame him as your body deflates with a sigh. 

Why, indeed. 

“You know how I’m from Hoenn?” You offer your hand and Hop takes it, his long and slender fingers almost engulfing your hand in size as you help him off the ground. Your friend nods at your question, beginning to pick up the scattered books, and you quickly move to help him. “And you know how I have really pushy parents who really don’t like that I moved here?” 

“Well, yes,” Hop comments, and he thanks you under his breath as you hand him the books that you picked up. “But that- that doesn’t explain why- married?”

You give Hop a sad look. “It’s not like I’m a fan of it either. My parents don’t control me, and I know that. I moved here for that very reason- to prove that they could never control me. But then some… legal issues came up.” 

“Legal issues?” Hop’s eyebrows raise. 

“It’s all bogus!” You practically explode as a reply, and Hop’s eyebrows raise even further up his forehead and you freeze. “Sorry,” you mumble, your tense shoulders going down as you sigh again. Truthfully, you haven’t been able to talk to anybody about your situation yet, so the stress is starting to pour out all at once and you have to try and reign it in. “I’m sorry I brought it up in such a bad way, too. Can we- sit? For a minute?” 

Hop frowns with a nod and the two of you descend the staircase in Sonia’s lab, heading to the table next to the entrance. Once the two of you have sat down, you explain to Hop as best you can. 

You tell him how your parents both owned a somewhat successful company that’s been passed through the generations, and because it was family-owned, you apparently had responsibilities as ‘heir’ to the company. You refused, moving to Galar just to prove how much you didn’t want to be stuck managing a Pokeball production company, and that’s where the trouble came into place for you. It didn’t matter how far you ran from Hoenn and your parents; because they had signed your name on pretty legal papers without you even knowing it that you would take their place once they retired. You could go all the way down to the place you grew up to talk with a lawyer to reverse those papers and their implications, but your chance of getting sued was higher than winning in court against your parents. You’re also not sure how much you want to go to court with your parents, anyway- the fact they signed something under your name without your consent was wildly illegal, but you don’t have the guts to punish them for it. 

This is where the marriage part came in. Your parents said that if you could prove you had a life in Galar worth living (in their old minds, that was a spouse with a successful job that could ‘take care of you’, maybe some children, or a fancy job you couldn’t get anywhere else like being the god-damn president of Marco-Cosmos or some impossible goal like that), they would take care of the issue themselves and leave you alone. So, that was your situation. 

Get married, move to Hoenn and work at your family’s company, or get sued. And you already told your parents that you were planning to get married this summer. 

When you’ve finally finished explaining to Hop, he takes a big breath and lets it out slowly with an expression that can only be described as a wince. “That’s… Mate, that sucks.” He says simply, and you couldn’t agree more. 

“It does,” you groan with a long frown, your hands folding together atop the white table. “So… I know it’s a lot to ask- but if… If you’d be willing to help me with this, it would mean so much to me. And it’s not like we’d have to be married forever!” You quickly explain to him. “Just until they get rid of those completely-illegal papers. Once that’s done, we can get divorced and go back to being friends like normal.” 

Hop squirms in his seat, humming unsurely as his arms move across his chest. “___, I’d love to help, but…” His eyes go back and forth between you and the wall. “Are you sure you’d want me to help you? You said your weird parents are looking for a successful partner. I’m not exactly sure I fit that description. I mean, if we talked about it, we could probably convince Leon-” 

(As much as it grosses him out to suggest such a thing...) 

You quickly interrupt him before he can even finish. His arms drop from their defensive hold, eyes widening in surprise when you steadfastly refuse.

“No! No,” a nervous fit of laughter escapes you, “no way. I am not marrying your brother, even in this kind of situation. Like, sure, the fancy title of ex-Champion is nice and all, but it’s also… Leon.” You shake your head several times. “No.” 

Despite himself, Hop finds himself laughing too. “Yeah,” he smiles, “that’d be a bit too much for me to handle, anyway.” 

(It’s embarrassing to admit how relieved he is by how much you hate that idea, too.)

“Glad we’re in agreement, then. And, honestly, Hop-” it’s a bit of a bold move, but you reach forward and grab one of his hands as gently as you can. His eyes widen some more and there’s a pretty blush on his cheeks when you do, and you’d tease him normally, but not now. “In my mind, you’re plenty successful. And even if my parents don’t agree- that’s not the point. I’m sure as long as I’m married, they’ll change their minds. And I-” now you’re the one blushing as you finally look away from his golden eyes, “-I want it to be you. I’d- I’d be really… really thankful if it was you.” 

The suggestion- the mere idea of it was ridiculous and outlandish, you knew that. Of course you knew that- but you’re at your wit’s end. This is the last option that you feel could work to get them to leave you alone for good. 

Silence grows between the two of you, along with the tension in the room, tighter and tighter as Hop takes longer and longer to reply. As time ticks away, you grow more aware of the mortification growing in your belly and how you’re still holding his hand- eventually you have to let go as you quickly curl into yourself as best you can and put your hands in your lap. 

...At some point, you’re somewhat convinced that you’ve broken your best friend. He’s probably trying to find a way to tell you he can’t- which- which is fine. That’s fine, and you expected as much. There’s other people you can ask, really… So you’re not disappointed. Not at all. Slowly you stand from your chair, taking a deep breath as you bite your lip. “I get it- it’s definitely okay that you can’t. I should probably go before I make things even worse-” 

At the sound of your voice, Hop jumps in his seat, and he looks up at you with furrowed brows. Quickly, he stands up too- “No- I-” he stutters, gripping his chair so hard that his knuckles turn white, “no, that’s… I can do it.” 

Now it’s your time to stutter as you look at him wide-eyed. “R-really? You will?” 

(He can’t breathe.)

He smiles, wobbly and genuine as a small laugh escapes him. “Yeah. I’ll- yeah, I’ll marry you.” 

In a rush of pure happiness and genuine shock, you jump in place and wrap your arms around Hop’s neck. He stumbles back in surprise, one of his hands wrapping around your back to keep you steady as you almost squeeze the life out of him. “Hop! Thank you- thank you so much!” 

“No- No problem! It’s not a problem!” Hop laughs, his face and ears feeling awfully hot, and his arms slowly wrap around you as you keep embracing him. “Happy to help,” he nervously swallows. 

(Definitely happy to help.)

——— — ——— 

Hop can’t breathe. 

It’s hard to believe any of this is real, honestly. Getting engaged to you- hell, Hop hadn’t even gotten the courage to ask you out on a date, and here he was, engaged. Under unfortunate circumstances, yes, but you’re literally his fiancé. That’s a real thing. Technically speaking. 

It’s solidified when you bring him a ring from your house- a simple silver band for the two of you. For some reason, probably because Arceus wants to laugh at him some more, the ring fits perfectly, and just looking at your matching rings makes his belly do awkward flops. 

Eventually, you’re going to have to fill everyone in on your situation. Which is going to be even worse. Hop makes sure to appreciate the days that pass when no one knows. 

And then Leon comes to visit him at work and he ruins it. He ruins everything. Because like the dunce his brother is, he sees the ring, and he asks, “when did you get a ring?” 

And like the dunce that Hop is, he replies, “when I got engaged.” 

And he’s never felt his soul leave him so fast. An odd feeling that is, really. It’s as if he got frozen from the inside out, no warmth left as he just stands there and wishes that someone would come and push him over so that he’d break and shatter into a million little pieces. Sorry, ___, he couldn’t marry you to help you out with your crappy parents anymore, because now he is dead. 

Except he’s not really dead because he can hear Leon’s hacking and coughing as clear as day from the other end of the lab. 

“Just kidding!” Hop whips his head around fast enough that his glasses almost fall off as he looks at Leon, his face successfully several degrees warmer than it should be. “That was a joke!” 

“No, it wasn’t!” Leon stands quickly and rushes over, and Hop tries to back away but his left hand is already in Leon’s as his brother looks at the ring as if to make sure that it’s real. “It’s on the right finger and everything! Who on Galar are you marrying?!” Leon looks up from the ring to Hop’s eyes, and Hop still can’t breathe. 

“Um- u- um, I- I-” 

“Hey, Hop!” The door to the lab opens. Perhaps, Hop thinks, he really is dead, and this is just the unfortunate afterlife he was shoved into. This isn’t real. Surely that’s not you walking through the door, bringing him lunch like you said you would earlier today, in a text that he had completely forgotten about until this moment, “I brought you lunch!”

Surely not. 

Leon gasps as he drops his brother’s hand, and dramatically, he points at you. “It’s you, isn’t it?!” He asks gleefully, and he looks back at his brother with a big, stupid smile- “when did you-”

And Hop starts laughing, very, very loudly, “___! You brought lunch! Guess who knows about our agreement!” He enunciates the word ‘agreement’ and promptly elbows his older brother in the gut before he quickly runs away and over to you, taking the plastic containers out of your hands happily. “Can you help explain it to him before I go jump off the nearest bridge?” 

He’s not feeling like he’s kidding, but you laugh anyways as you hold up your own left hand, showing it to Leon. “Pretty neat, huh?” You sing happily, and Hop busies himself with setting up the table for lunch instead of focusing on how embarrassing it is that you sound happy to be fake-married to him. Not real-married, fake-married. It’s an important difference. “It’s all a ruse though, as sad as I am to tell you.” Your hand lowers as you place it on your hip. 

“A ruse?” His brother asks, and he walks over and takes your hand just like he did to Hop so he can inspect the ring. 

Hop leans over and smacks Leon away from you with a glare and his brother snickers. 

“Yeah. Hop agreed to help me out, really. I’m stuck in this weird moral decision to not throw my parents behind bars over legal complications,” you shrug, “but getting married is basically what’s going to shove it all under the rug. Long story short.” 

“Huh.” Leon says, placing his own hands on his hips as he stands still, taking in the information. His eyebrow hooks up as he gives Hop a look, “you’re really okay with that? Well, I guess you would be. Y’know, considering.”

“You’re hilarious,” Hop smiles, but his voice is strained and so is the smile. Instead of entertaining his brother further, he sits at the table and you sit across from him, opening your container and digging in. Oblivious to the tension your best friend carries and how he stares at Leon. 

I’ll kill you, he mouths, and Leon smiles in return. 

“Well,” the ex-champion dusts his hands off, “I can see I need to leave the engaged couple alone so they can enjoy their lunch. And other things, probably, that need to be done in private,” 

“Ha HA,” 

“So I’ll take my leave!” Leon heads for the door and Hop lets out a sigh of relief- until his brother points at him, door open mid-way- “I expect you to call me later. Bye, in-law!” 

And then he leaves. Finally. You look Hop’s way, smiling as you take another bite of your curry. “So, looks like we’ll finally have to fill everyone in, huh?” 

Looks that way. 

——

Once you told everyone who needed to know (his parents and your shared friends), Hop knew for sure that he was in over his head when he first agreed to this. Because explaining it- having everyone jump in glee and surprise at the words ‘we’re engaged!’ only to deflate in confusion as you both hurried to say ‘but not really!’ 

You’d think the two of you would have found a better way to explain it, but you didn’t. 

Having to live through it, though- it was dreadfully awful. Not because Hop was saving it all- the genuine, lovely way that his mother first gasped and his father had frozen- the moment in his mind a beautiful picture that he definitely did not think about all the time. Because it’s not like Hop had only dreamed about this happening to him one day, and it’s not like it killed him when he could finally tell his parents that he’d found someone who loved him unconditionally, only for it to all be fake. As if Hop really needed to hand them another reason to be disappointed in him. 

But no, they were proud. They were happy he was helping you. They told him as much. 

But he didn’t forget those reactions. He didn’t forget how their eyes glistened, and he didn’t forget how they shattered. 

Once that was all over, it was established that the two of you would be having a small ceremony just to help convince your parents that this was a real marriage with real love. True love. 

Except you didn’t love Hop, and Hop surely didn’t love you- but they couldn’t know that. So there was going to be a ceremony. 

You and him. A priest between you. Speeches filled with words- fake words, lovingly beautiful hoaxed words. And then you’d put on your wedding rings, and then you’d kiss. 

Married. You’d be married on August 10th. Isn’t that nice? 

A beautiful summer day. 

——

“I do not envy that kid.”

It was shortly after you and Hop had visited Hammerlocke where you asked everyone to meet up for your news that Raihan finally broke the ice. Leon sighed beside him, along with Sonia who was frowning into the cup she drank from. 

“It’s so horribly obvious,” She says. “He talks about them constantly at work. And he’s been a mess this past week.”

Nessa hums, crossing her leg on the park bench she sat on and letting her head fall back as her hair flowed through the breeze. “I guess you’d see it up close, huh? How he’s so head over heels.” She opens an eye to look at Leon. “Have you talked to him? It’s nice that he wants to help, but maybe it’s not the best idea.” 

Leon shrugs, crossing his arms at his chest. “Honestly, he’s grown up now. He knows full well what he’s getting into. But I did call him personally once I found out,” he purses his lips. “His denial is impressive.” 

Raihan laughs as he hangs his head low, shaking it back and forth. “You fucking suck,” he wheezes. “You should really try to talk him out of this.” 

“Shut it!” Leon shoves Raihan who sways just barely, “I gave him my big brother speech, but I’m done now. He doesn’t want me bringing it up, so I won’t. He’s been stifled enough because of me as is.” The ex-Champion picks up his own cup that sat on the table they all surrounded, and he downs the rest of the contents inside. “So he’ll do as he pleases. I’ll be here if it goes south.” 

Sonia hums, her shoe rubbing at the grass unsurely. “If you say so…”

“It’ll be fine. Trust me.” 

“Oh, sorry I forgot to trust the guy who’s never dated anyone before,” Raihan snorts. 

“Yeah but I could nail your mum if I wanted to,”

“I dare you!” 

“I’ve got her number, I could do it right now!”

Laughter fills the park.

——

As the date for your wedding nears, you bring it up more and more. As you would, because even if it’s fake, there’s questions to ask and things to prepare for. Obviously you hadn’t done this before and neither had Hop, so… how do you put together a fake wedding in the first place? 

“We probably shouldn’t invite anyone,” you say as you lean back on your couch, your feet propped up and crossed at the ankles on your coffee table. “Or should we? For pictures? Memories?” 

“Are you sure you’ll want to remember this?” Hop raises an eyebrow at you. He flips the pen in his hand, notepad sitting on his lap. “We’re going to divorce just a few months after it all.” 

“Well, that’s true,” you shrug, “but we’re still getting married. Shouldn’t we make it fun? It could be a party.” 

Hop squirms. “I don’t know,” he says, but his tone makes it clear and you smile at him reassuringly. 

“It’s okay to say no, Hop. It’s your wedding too, you know!” 

“Kind of.” 

“Not kind of. It’ll be legal and everything- we should both be happy with it. So no guests? Or pictures?” 

He bites his lip. He’d like to say ‘let me think about it’, but truthfully, there’s no time. Decisions have to be made now. “It might be weird if it’s just us and a priest. We may as well go to the courthouse if it was just that, so...” he comments softly, and you beam. 

“True! Maybe we’ll just invite a few people. Ten, tops.” 

...Ten is probably around the exact number of everyone Hop knows. He doesn’t know a lot of people. And he already knows everyone you’re going to want to invite- the only people it makes sense to invite- and Hop squirms some more in his seat as he swallows the bile in his throat.

“Sounds good!” Hop smiles instead of vomiting like he wants to. “We should find some chairs and stuff too, then. Order a pizza maybe. No cake.” 

“No cake,” you laugh. “That’d be too much. Maybe we can slice the first slice of pizza together, though?” 

“You better not put pizza on my face.” Hop frowns, and you burst out laughing. 

...He laughs a bit too. He can’t help it when you look so happy and upbeat. He should really be more like you- Hop doesn’t know why he’s so tense. 

“I won’t! I swear. As long as you promise not to do it either- we’re going to be married so you can’t lie!” 

“Of course. I’d never.” He gives you a promising nod, and then his eyes light up as he thinks of something new. “...Should we dress up?” 

“Oh, right,” you hum and look at the ceiling as you ponder. “Well, you would look cute in a tux.”

Hop furrows his eyebrows in worry, “I don’t think I even own a tux.” 

“...Me neither,” you snort. “But we should probably dress up, right? Especially if we invite people. Even if it’s for a pizza party.” 

He can’t believe his first wedding is being described as a pizza party. Probably his only wedding. 

Isn’t that funny? 

“I guess I can see if I can borrow anything from Leon… he might have something that fits.” 

“Great! I’ll look around, too,” and that idea absolutely doesn’t give him more of those awkward stomach flips that he’s been feeling all week. Seeing you dressed up and looking gorgeous as you stand across from him, kiss him? Hop thinks that there’s no way this could end badly as he anxiously fixes the glasses on his face. “Let’s plan more on how we’ll decorate the backyard- we can have the ceremony there! And then we should both get our clothes planned, then the food, and we can ask Raihan to be our picture guy so we’ll have something to show my parents-“ 

There’s no way that this could end badly. 

——

It’s August 10th. 

It’s 9:43am on August 10th, specifically, and Hop didn’t sleep at all last night. Not even a wink. How could he? 

He distracted himself instead. His suit that he borrowed from Leon has probably been ironed 50 times by now, his house is sparkling clean- cleaner than it's ever been, and he even emptied some boxes and threw away the things he’d been meaning to get rid of for months. Hop did possibly everything and anything he could just so he could stop thinking about how he was getting married today. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. And it’s not. Because, Hop reminds himself again, you’ll be divorced and back to being normal friends in a few months, just like you said. Just like you wanted.

But what does Hop want? 

That’s why he’s cleaning. 

You decided that the party, the wedding, will take place at 2pm. That’s only a few more hours. The two of you spent all day yesterday decorating the backyard, so that was all finished. All you had to do now was step in front of the official looking people and make it... official! 

Easy peasy, Hop says to himself. He’s been standing still, staring at himself in the mirror for the past hour, and it’s easy peasy. 

Then the doorbell rings. 

It doesn’t process at first, so the doorbell rings again, and Hop slowly raises his head at the sound. He looks at the hallway outside his room, toward where the sound came from- and then his limbs go into motion as he walks toward the door. Who could it be? Maybe it was you, wanting to check in with him one more time if he was sure about this, and Hop would say he was definitely sure and then he’d joke that he’s not supposed to see you before the wedding, and then- 

When Hop opens the door, his brother is on the other side, and Hop doesn’t think he’s ever fallen apart so quickly before. 

Honestly, Hop wonders if he broke a record. How fast the tears and snot came, how quickly and harshly he crumpled to the ground- it’s got to be worth something. With how fast he was breathing in, in, in- how couldn’t it be? He definitely broke a record of some kind. 

Leon holds him securely- squeezing Hop to his chest as he follows his sibling to the ground, and he lets Hop sob all over him as he stays quiet. Quieter than he’s ever been, because Leon always has something to say, but not now as Hop cries and cries and cries- loud enough that he’s probably notified all of fucking Wedgehurst that he was definitely sure about this! Absolutely sure, happy to help. 

Happy to give you everything while he receives nothing? Yes. Because his whole life has been like that. 

So why’s he crying so hard? 

Leon’s hand is stable, heavy, and warm as it rubs Hop’s back. The movement is gentle and lulling, and Leon’s chest moves in a hypnotic matter as he slowly inhales deep and exhales just as deeply- over and over until Hop finds himself following along. Following along… he does that a lot. 

The panic spikes up again, and so does the hyperventilating, so they start all over again. 

Over and over, as many times as they have to, until Hop is simply shaking and exhausted as he’s cried all his tears into the fabric of Leon’s clothes. Which, he’s realized, is just a faded hoodie and some track sweats. Despite himself, Hop snorts and croaks. “You can’t come to my wedding if this is what you’re wearing.” 

Except that’s a joke. He can still absolutely come. Leon has to come, and Hop doesn’t care if he’s wearing only boxers. As long as he’s there. 

“Don’t worry,” Leon says as he loosens his hold on Hop, hands moving to securely hold his arms as he leans back and smiles at his brother. “I saved my fancy clothes for later, they’re with me. I had a feeling I’d need to be prepared for something like this when I came to see you. Aren’t I smart?” 

Hop sniffs and laughs when Leon wipes at his wet cheek. “I guess so.” 

“I know I am, you don’t have to say it,” Leon grins, and he grunts as he starts to stand, bringing Hop up with him. “Come on now, up you get. We’ve got a wedding to get ready for.” 

“Does it have to be mine?” Hop asks and Leon wraps an arm around his shoulders, walking them out of the doorway and finally closing the door behind them. 

“Afraid so, Hop. Afraid so.” 

——

Things are still scary, but it’s a bit more manageable with Leon by his side. The crying session was embarrassing, yes, but needed. Leon practically threw Hop in the shower afterward, which was also very needed, and then when he’s finished, Leon had cooked a hearty looking breakfast for them both. Which they demolish. 

It was mediocre and there were some eggshells in the pancakes, but that’s to be expected if Leon did all the cooking. 

Then Hop gets dressed in his suit that his brother lent him and puts in his contacts, and Leon coos and calls him handsome. Hop shoves him, telling him to quit it, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Not that he’d say that, really, but he thanks his brother genuinely for being here with him. 

Leon’s eyes soften at that and he mutters ‘of course I’m here’, and then they move on. 

Time flies a lot faster when it’s not just Hop and his muddled thoughts. Sooner than he’d realize, it was a quarter to 2pm, so it was time to leave. Leon asked him if he was ready, Hop said he was definitely not ready, and Leon laughed as the two walked over to your house. It was a short walk, which was appreciated, because they’re both walking in public with fancy suits on and Hop doesn’t like the looks they get. Especially from that one girl who was walking her Yamper. 

He could kill that girl for looking at him so funny. 

“I can’t believe you’re taller than me now,” Leon says with his nose scrunched up and a frown on his lips, right as they’re about to approach your doorstep. Hop smiles, his ego successfully lifted at his brother's words. 

“That might be the only thing I’m winning at with you,” 

“That’s not true,” Leon shakes his head with a raised brow, “you’re also about to get married. I’ve never even dated anyone.” 

Hop rolls his eyes at that, digging his hands as deep as he can in the silky pants pockets of his suit. “Hardly. I’ll get divorced before you too, so that’s really an achievement I’ll want to brag about to the family.” He scoffs and Leon elbows his side gently. 

“It doesn’t have to be like that, you know.” 

The two brothers are in front of your house now, but Hop comes to a stop when Leon does and he looks at him strangely. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means that you’re in love with that person,” Leon looks toward the door, then back at him as he shrugs, “and you love them so much you’re going to marry them in order to help them out. But just because it’s a marriage of convenience doesn’t mean it can’t turn into something different.” 

Hop frowns at that. He hadn’t ever entertained that idea, and that was on purpose- he doesn’t need to get his hopes up, only to be crushingly disappointed. “We haven’t even dated. It’s- it’s ridiculous to stay married, even if they felt that way toward me.” Again, his brother shrugs. 

“Is it? Sounds awfully convenient to me.” 

“And so the marriage of convenience stays convenient… right.” 

“But it’s true!” Leon laughs, “look, I’m not going to act like I know what I’m talking about. I don’t. But don’t let this crush you. Everything has the opportunity to turn out amazing.” He places a hand on Hop’s shoulder, holding it securely as he looks into Hop’s eyes. Gold meeting gold- the two are practically identical, but so different. 

“Hop. You’re my brother, and I love you. And as your brother, I’m going to tell you something very important,” Leon leans in close, and Hop does the same. “You can make this into something amazing.” 

And then he slaps his brother’s shoulder, making Hop cry out in shock from how hard he hit with a look of betrayal on his face and Leon throws his head back with a barking laugh. The laughter is loud enough that you finally open your door, seeing the two brothers shoving each other on your doorstep, making you raise an eyebrow. “Look who it is!” You smile, their heads snapping toward you. You hold a hand out for Hop- it takes him a second to realize it’s for him, and when he does, he shyly takes it and you tug him toward you. “My husband-to-be and my brother-to-be. It’s about time you showed up.” 

Leon smiles brightly at you, skipping to meet you with a kiss on the cheek which you return. “Good to see you! And I heard there would be,” Leon lowers his voice, “pizza?” 

You meet his serious gaze, nodding firmly. “The best in town,” you tell him, and Leon whoops as he moves past you and Hop to enter your house. 

Beside you, Hop remains quiet, and it’s not until you squeeze his hand that he jolts in place and looks down at you with wide eyes. 

“You’re looking handsome,” you smile at him and Hop almost combusts. Why are you holding his hand, anyway? He’s sweating buckets. 

“Y-you too! Great- you look great. Really good. Better than me.” 

Hop sucks. 

But you smile even wider anyway, your own cheeks heating up in a beautiful way. “Thank you,” you say gently, and all of Leon’s words of advice from his apartment has flown right out of his head. Instead, it’s just- 

You’re in love with that person and you love them so much, you’re going to marry them. 

“We should head inside, before the great Champion becomes Champion of eating all of our pizza.” You break through his thoughts, tugging on Hop’s hands as you make a step to go inside. Normally, Hop would follow you right away, but he freezes as he holds you tighter and keeps you from leaving. His eyes are wide, and you give him a confused look. 

It’s a miracle he doesn’t stutter, but he sounds desperate as he asks you, “are you ready?” 

The question makes you stop in your tracks, and you grow quiet as you look up at Hop. He frantically searches your eyes- hoping to find an answer in them- and he wonders if this is how you felt when he went quiet when you first asked Hop to marry you. 

But then your blush deepens on your cheeks again and your eyes grow soft as your thumb gently swipes the top of Hop’s hand. “You know… I think I am. You?” 

A breathless sigh leaves him. Along with it is all of his ghosts, fears, and doubts- because suddenly Hop feels so much lighter. “Yeah,” he says, nodding just to solidify his answer more. “Yeah, I think I’m ready too.” 

The two of you enter your house, smiling and blushing, and the door closes behind the two of you. Ahead of you waits the beginning of something complicated, weird, and amazing. 

Hop thinks it’ll be amazing.

He really does.