#how could anyone be sly's friend and not have glowing things to say about him?????

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 2: Dusk]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 4.0k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @ipostwhatifeel​ @teenagecriminalmastermind​ @quartzs-posts​ @tclegane​ @poohxlove​ @narwhal-swimmingintheocean​ @chainsawsangel​ @itsabby15​ @serrhaewin​ @padfooteyes​ @arcielee​ @travelingmypassion​ @what-is-originality​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @blackdreamspeaks​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @jvpit3rs​ @sarcastic-halfling-princess​ @flowerpotmage​ @ladylannisterxo​ @thelittleswanao3​ @elsolario​ @tinykryptonitewerewolf​ @girlwith-thepearlearring​ @minttea07​​

Let me know if you’d like to be added! 💜

The girl is from Milan, and Daeron is enamored with her: bright-eyed, beaming, blood rosy in his cheeks. Her name is Nicolosa, though she is adamant that everyone should call her Nico. She is one of those effortlessly informal people. She laughs too loudly and says all the wrong things, too-honest observations that would be offensive if the person breathing life into them was anyone but her. She spins around the hall as violins and lutes play, swinging from the willing arms of chuckling noblemen, an aisle of light in a goldenrod gown, the sun made flesh. She has the luxury of dancing until breathless, until she glows with the sheen of exertion. She could not possibly be carrying a child; she will not be wedded and bedded for another year.

This is a great triumph for Otto the Duke of Hightower. Milan under the House of Sforza is an enviable ally, wealthy and sophisticated, and eager for friends who will one day be willing to assist them in resisting French encroachment. This is the deal that the Duke of Hightower has struck. True, Daeron is still rather young to take a bride. True, Nico’s parents, the Duke and Duchess of Milan, were insistent that they would concede to the match only if the marriage and consummation was postponed until next August. True, this does not resolve the immediate concern of Aegon’s lack of an heir. But it is another tile of a mosaic, another thread in the patchwork of the Greens’ objectives, another brick in a castle wall from which boiling oil could be poured down upon invaders.

The Duke of Hightower is accepting warm congratulations from the nobility of Southern England: Norfolk, Gloucester, Somerset, Buckingham, Suffolk, Clarence, Exeter. Those of the North—Lancaster, York, Stark—shun him. They stand instead with Rhaenyra, admiring her two eldest sons, pretending not to notice how little they resemble the late Laenor Velaryon. The Crown Princess is wearing black accented with maroon, as she almost always is. She sends a small, reassurance-seeking smile to where Daemon sits at the high table, and he raises his cup to her, his face sly, arrogant, proud. They love each other, this is clear; it may not be an especially conventional love, and it may be a love that emboldens rather than tames, but it is love nonetheless. This does not make your resignation to your own fate any easier. Queen Alicent, laughing as she joins Daeron and Nico dancing, is dressed in dark green to match her father and her children. You often wear purple, the color of royalty…just to remind people that you still deserve to be here.

You are at the high table too, albeit on the opposite side from Daemon; the Blacks are always seated to King Viserys’ right, while the Greens are on his left. Aemond doesn’t dance, you aren’t permitted to, Aegon is too drunk. He’s apparently not too drunk to leer, however; his bleary storm-blue eyes follow Lady Joanna Montford as she glides across the floor like a shark through surf, flashing luring eyes and flirtatious simpers. You’re a better dancer than she is, but of course that doesn’t matter, because no one ever gets to see you do it. Aegon won’t go so far as to touch her in public—he would consider that discourteous, you think—but he’s sleeping with her, and everyone knows he’s sleeping with her, and you can’t even truly wish he’d stop because you don’t want him in your bed anyway. But the humiliation of it…the hopelessness…that is more difficult to come to terms with.

“Portugal,” Daemon tells Aegon nonchalantly. “You could have married some princess from Portugal.”

Aegon guzzles his wine and says nothing. Aemond—scribbling messy lines of black ink onto parchment at the end of the table—glances up at you and then back down again.

Daemon continues: “The Infanta Maria was wed around the same time you were, and she’s produced a more than satisfactory son for her husband. Hugely fat, practically hoglike, I’ve seen portraits.”

“Daemon, please,” King Viserys scolds mildly, smiling as he watches Rhaenyra mingle with nobles who wouldn’t mind burning you alive if it meant the Blacks would ascend more seamlessly to the throne. The king has her son Joffrey in the chair next to him and has enthralled the boy with stories of jousts, hunts, feasts, Christmases and May Days. You wonder if he’s ever shown such interest in any of his children with Alicent. If he has, you aren’t aware of it.

“Or Savoy,” Daemon says. “Not as cultured as Milan, this cannot be denied, but of great strategic significance geographically. One foot in France, the other in Italy. I’ve heard wonderful things about Princess Louise. Very athletic, very…” He smirks, biting into a pomegranate. Ruptured seeds spurt juice like the gleam of rubies. “Flexible.”

“Oh, look, Prince Daemon.” You point into the crowded hall. “I think your wife is beckoning you to join her. Your third wife, I mean, the most recent one. The one who also happens to be your niece.”

“Or Naples!” Daemon exclaims, as if it has just occurred to him, as if he hasn’t been waiting to torment you like a wolf shadows a wounded stag, saliva filling up its mouth, fangs bared and dripping. Southerners detest Daemon because they fear he is mad; but that’s exactly what the North likes about him. “Or perhaps even—would we dare to hope?—a princess of France! Think of it! The poor Duke of Hightower would not know what to do with himself, he would be so delighted. At his age, the shock might just kill him.”

“Daemon,” King Viserys warns again.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be giving us so many ideas,” Aegon says, slurping his wine. “Aemond is still unspoken for, and now we have a tidy list of candidates to consider. How thoughtful of you.”

“Or you simply could have made the same arrangement that you did but in reverse,” Daemon goes on as if no one else has spoken at all. “You could have taken a Castilian bride, and Helaena could have been shipped off to the Pyrenees, and your circumstances would be wildly different than they are now. Princess Lucia would have been the right age for you. Do you want to know what she gave to her new husband this past Christmas?”

“I surely don’t,” Aegon replies.

Daemon grins beneath glinting eyes. “Twins.”

“Enough,” Aemond says, dark and quiet like midnight.

Now Daemon addresses you, resting his elbows on the table. “How many more chances do you think they’ll give you, Navarre, before some providential technicality that voids your marriage contract is discovered and you are discarded of in a nunnery?” Another bite of the pomegranate; another freckling of bloodlike red across the tablecloth. “The globe is crawling with royal women, they’re fish in a barrel, why would anyone jeopardize their dynastic ambitions for you?”

“My wife belongs where I am,” Aegon says: a fact, a dare. “And I will hear no more of it.”

You look at him, grateful but a little stunned. He does this sometimes. He will choose a seemingly arbitrary moment to make a show of loyalty, and then he will never mention it again. He doesn’t return your glance. Instead, he picks apart a roasted chicken carcass with his fingers and resumes staring at Lady Joanna Montford with his dazed, watery eyes. Aemond, engrossed in his writing, hasn’t eaten much tonight. Neither have you; but there’s a reason for that.

“Where you are,” Daemon muses, raising his strange white eyebrows. “Well, I hope she enjoys brothels.”

You fling back: “Like the one you fondled the Crown Princess in?”

“A baseless rumor,” Daemon replies, but he can’t smother the flare of wicked pride in his eyes.

“Will you stop it?!” the king roars at both of you. Joffrey gazes up at him with awe, like he’s seen a falling star or a dragon or the face of God. “This is supposed to be a joyous occasion, a royal betrothal, and you can’t conduct yourselves appropriately for one night—?!”

“What are they squabbling about?” the Duke of Hightower asks as he approaches the table. He can summon nothing more condemnatory than half-serious annoyance; his mood is too lofty, his victory too fresh. Behind him in the festive ruckus, Queen Alicent and Rhaenyra are exchanging awkward compliments and trying to ignore all the enmity that has stacked up between them since the king married his daughter’s lifelong companion and started producing white-haired children with her. Jace is dancing with Baela, Luke with Rhaena; Daeron and Nico have found themselves alone in a corner, giggling as candlelight glows hot and golden on their flushed cheeks.

Rather than answering, the king merely rolls his eyes and sighs, exasperated.

“You must be overjoyed, Otto,” Daemon says. “Another friend on the Continent. And yet, they are awfully far away, don’t you think?”

The Duke of Hightower smiles tightly. “Ships travel fast.”

“Ah, perhaps, though not faster than word from here to the Scottish border.”

“The Milanese girl will make a lovely bride for young Daeron, Otto,” King Viserys praises. He has either successfully deluded himself into believing that the whole of the realm will miraculously coalesce behind Rhaenyra upon his death, or he is determined to ignore the catastrophe that will ensue once he slips, gleefully ignorant, off into the afterlife.

Daemon nods. “Yes. Buxom, vivacious, amiable, she will be a fine mother someday. Unlike certain other people among us.”

Aegon says around a mouthful of chicken: “Grandsire, Prince Daemon was kind enough to point out all the other advantageous matches still at our disposal. Since we haven’t monopolized our bloodline by marrying exclusively immediate relatives.”

The Duke of Hightower chuckles. “Yes, I do sincerely hope that Jace and Luke’s offspring don’t all end up with fifteen fingers or gills or some such thing.”

“Fortunately, Harwin Strong’s blood should dilute the lineage,” you say.

Daemon turns towards you, twisting in his chair, grinning cruelly. “Gills or not, at least they’ll have children.”

You can’t think of anything to say back. Perhaps there is nothing to say. The Duke of Hightower and Aegon both avert their eyes. King Viserys has returned his attention to young Joffrey and is teaching him a prayer to invoke the protection of Saint George. Only Daemon looks at you; and Aemond watches him, quill hovering in midair, his sole blue eye a blaze of cold fire. You push out your chair and rise from the table, fleeing to one of the rooms adjacent to the exuberant, cheerful hall. You’re happy for Daeron and Nico, truly you are. But pain has a way of feeling heavier than joy, doesn’t it? It grips onto your ankles and drags you down into depths that nobody else can see.

The room is small and empty, the music muffled by the walls. Through the stained glass windows trickle in beams of pink-lavender light as dusk falls over Westminster Palace. And you stand there alone in the twilight, thinking of the past and the future and time itself, a ghost that will always be made of more secrets than answers.

You hear the door open behind you. “I’ll return to the festivities in a moment,” you say to the intruder, trying to keep the emotion from your voice.

“No need,” Aemond replies softly.

You wheel, and there he is, walking to meet you in the vanishing daylight. He takes your left hand in his and settles his right lightly, modestly, on your waist. “What—?” And then you understand.

Dancing. Here, where no one can see to forbid or ridicule. He’s come to take me dancing.

You smile up at him. “I’m not supposed to be doing this.”

“We’ll go very slowly.”

And slowly would be an understatement: you and Aemond move together in dawdling, careful steps, rotating like seasons, like the phases of the moon. He smells like he always does, of work and effort: smoke, leather, that scent he wears that is dark and woodsy and with an edge like a knife. His hands are calloused from sword sparring. Yours feel soft and helpless in his; they weren’t always so fragile, but they are now. “I thought you hated me,” you tell him.

“I’ve never hated you.”

“But you ignored me. For an entire year after I arrived in England, you ignored me.”

“I kept my distance. That’s very different from ignoring.”

“Alright, but why keep your distance at all?”

Aemond hesitates. “I am not in the habit of allowing myself to be noticed.”

“Because you fear people will see through the armor you’re wearing?” And when he abruptly stops dancing, you add: “I don’t mean that unkindly. I’m the same way. I wear all sorts of masks.”

He studies you in the lilac light. His gaze falls from your eyes to your lips to your throat. And then he resumes the unhurried dance. “There’s nothing about you worth hiding.”

You spin away from him and then return to be caught. “And you think you are a trove of scandalous secrets, Prince Aemond? Is that what’s in all those poems you won’t let me read?”

“If they were any good, I’d let you read them.”

“But you have the disposition of a genuine poet. Enigmatic, perceptive…” Alluring. Beautiful. You cast those thoughts away like coins into a wishing well. “Graceful.”

“So the dancing isn’t too terrible. I don’t do it often, I’m afraid.”

“You don’t do it ever to my knowledge. And no, not terrible at all.”

“I move best when holding a sword, not a princess.”

“I used to have callouses like yours, you know,” you say. “My palms and fingers were covered in them.”

“Because you sparred with your brothers,” Aemond remembers.

“For hours and hours. Especially with Alonzo. He’s the exact opposite of you, short and stocky and loud, with dark curls and heavy feet. And his poetry would send a lady sprinting in the other direction.”

“Do you miss it? Terrorizing men with swords?”

“Of course. I was almost somewhat good at that, unlike everything I’m tasked with here.”

Aemond grins, broad and mischievous. “Let’s have a demonstration then.” He releases your hand, goes to the door that leads to a stairwell, and waits patiently for you to join him.

This is improper. This is disobedient. But what has being obedient gotten you lately?

You follow Aemond through the doorway, down the stone steps, and out into the courtyard illuminated by dusk like amber, tiger’s eye, amethyst, rose quartz. It is empty except for the two of you; the rest of the palace is thoroughly occupied with drinking, dancing, and murderous scheming. It is a wonder with as lethal as the world is that women are meant to be so powerless. Aemond trots across the grass towards the blacksmith’s forge at the far end of the courtyard, then returns with two swords. He passes you the lighter one.

“How does it feel?” he asks you.

You twirl the sword a few times, admittedly rather inexpertly. “Wonderful. But I’m very out of practice.”

“Fear not. We’ll take this slow as well.” He taps his blade against yours, so tenderly it’s laughable; the sound it makes is blunt and low. Still, you’re both smiling as you circle each other, striking out with intentionally ineffectual thrusts and lunges, blocking, parrying. “Your footwork is excellent,” Aemond notes.

“It used to be better. But I appreciate your compliment. You’re more talented than Alonzo. Then again, you probably spend much less time skipping lessons to chase women around.”

“Undoubtedly,” Aemond says in a tone you can’t decipher. Then he asks, interest piqued: “What sorts of masks do you wear?”

You shrug, your blade skating down the length of his. “All sorts.”

Aemond parries. “I’d be interested to know.”

“A genuine poet would be astute enough to sift out the truth from the lies.”

“So lie to me,” Aemond says, his stare direct and bold, his sword balanced in one hand and pointed at your ribs, your heart. “And we shall find out if I can tell.”

You side-step him, thinking of frivolous diversions. “I love English ale and drink it all the time.”

“Lie. Apple cider.”

The blades clang. “My favorite color is, dutifully, green.”

“Lie. Red, like the flag of Navarre.”

And like blood. “It’s beginning to lose its charm,” you confide in Aemond.

“Don’t do that,” he says severely. “Don’t let them take something you’re proud of away from you.”

You consider him as stars rise in a violet sky. “Why are you encouraging my rebellious inclinations? You don’t give the impression of being much of a rule breaker.”

“I don’t see what good can come from you being denied any source of happiness,” he says simply. “Go on. Let’s have another attempt at a lie.”

You block Aemond’s benign, cautious swing as you circle him. “I’m pregnant again.”

Aemond halts; every muscle in his body goes still and inflexible. And he knows immediately that you’re telling the truth. “I’m…I’m very glad to hear that,” he manages at last.

You laugh fleetingly, cynically. “You can’t even properly congratulate me. No one can. Because everything’s gone so horribly thus far, people don’t want to get their hopes up.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Not yet. But I can recognize the first signs by now.” Constant low-level nausea, difficulty waking in the morning, dull cramping. You force a thin smile. “At least your brother won’t need to visit my bed for a while.”

“You don’t find pleasure with him? Is Aegon not…” Aemond searches for the right word, nervous, bashful. Hot blooms of blood appear in his cheeks. “Attentive to you?”

“It’s not his fault. He tries, really. He’s never been selfish or rough. It is entirely my own deficiency. I’m just not…at ease with him, I suppose. I can’t relax enough. I can’t reach…well…” Euphoria? A climax? A peak? You know what euphemisms others use, but it’s difficult to describe something you’ve never experienced before.

Aemond nods, meaning that he understands, that you don’t have to wrench the words out of you like entrails from a slaughtered animal.

“I know that other women can,” you say, tapping your blade against his. “That their husbands are well-matched with them and that they enjoy great pleasure. It’s difficult for me to accept that isn’t something I’ll ever get to have myself. At least…I don’t believe I’ve ever had it.”

“I think you’d know if you had.”

“Oh, and you’re an expert in a woman’s pleasure, are you? As an unmarried prince?” Your voice is casual and teasing; but the thought of him with a lover is like a bolt of lightning. It pains you, it paralyzes you, it hits you without any warning.

“Years ago, Aegon paid for a woman to…initiate me,” he explains. “Several times. He meant it as an act of compassion, I think. I was speechless around anyone I found desirable.”

Your nausea swells from a ripple to a wave. “Oh. I see.”

“It’s not something that I especially wanted at the time, and it’s not something that I have cared to repeat since. But it was very…informative.”

He gives you an infinitesimal little half-smile, and something passes between you as the last threads of dusk are unwoven from the sky and night engulfs Westminster Palace, something like a promise, a note, a whisper. The queasiness in your belly vanishes and is replaced by something else: a sensation like falling, like wanting. You are overcome by an ache to say something, though you don’t know what.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the Duke of Hightower bellows, striding out into the courtyard. Aemond takes several swift steps away from you and hurls his sword to the ground. You toss yours away as well.

“Grandsire, the princess and I were just—”

“You!” the Duke of Hightower shouts, turning on you first. “You should be in a chair or in bed, you should be resting, you should be thinking only of your health and of the wellbeing of the heirs you will produce with Aegon, not gallivanting around in the darkness and playing with swords, of all things! What would your husband say? What would your parents say?! Are you what we were promised when we signed that godforsaken contract?! Surely, princess, at this very moment you are not.”

Aemond begins: “Grandsire, it wasn’t her idea—”

“And you,” the Duke of Hightower growls at him. “You will immediately rid yourself of your baffling aversion to marriage, because you’re next, Aemond. Be prepared to discuss the candidates tomorrow and decide upon your preferred bride. Your brothers and sister are spoken for. We have one last card to play, and it cannot wait any longer. Not with this enduring…” He glances bitterly at you. “Uncertainty.”

Since you arrived in England, there have been innumerable discussions of who Aemond will marry, and he has staunchly evaded every proposed match. His rationale has wavered from needing to focus on his studies to committing himself to training as a warrior to interrogating the strategic wisdom of each potential alliance. This is strange for a man who is otherwise so constrained by familial loyalty, so devoted to the advancement of the Greens. “I won’t even get to meet her first?”

“You’ll learn to like her. Daeron met his betrothed today and he is happy.”

“Daeron is lucky,” Aemond objects. “I might just as easily not be.”

“You will marry,” the Duke of Hightower insists. “Without protest and without further delay.”

Aemond looks down at his empty hands—lines and callouses, fresh scars and ancient heritage—and he says quietly: “Do you care nothing for love?”

“Have you ever wondered why the old put so little stock in love, Aemond?” the Duke replies. “It’s not because we don’t believe it’s real. It’s because we know it doesn’t last. Women die in childbirth. Men die at war. Thousands die of Plague or the bloody flux. People who once would have killed for you grow to hate you, or worse, feel nothing for you at all. Love is transient and painful and changeable and destructive. Best to skip over such things and think of legacy instead. That’s all any of us are left with in the end.”

And then the Duke of Hightower clasps your wrist and leads you back inside the palace, gently, as if you are made of glass.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is several hours later when Aegon staggers noisily into your bedchamber, knocking over a Florentine vase by the door. Shards of it tumble across the floorboards like wounded men littering a battlefield.

“Sorry,” he slurs, pulling off his tunic and then the plain white shirt underneath. “I’m very drunk, wife, I cannot deny it, but there’s only one part of me that you’re in need of and I think that I can still get it up—”

“Aegon.” You’re lying in bed and sipping a cup of apple cider. “You don’t need to stay. Your part is done.”

He stops cold and blinks at you, comprehending it sluggishly. His eyes flick down to your belly, covered by a blanket decorated with green roses. “Oh.”

“It’s alright. You can go now. You have other places to be, and I know that’s what you want.”

“Is there anything I can do for you? To make it easier?”

Be a different sort of man. Be more like Aemond. “No, I’m fine. But it’s very sweet of you to ask.”

“Okay.” He lurches away, stepping on pieces of the shattered vase. His bare feet leave stains of blood on the floor. And then he pauses under the doorframe, gripping it so he doesn’t fall over. “Wife?”

“Yes?”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with you, you know,” he says. “It’s the pressure of it all. It’s the responsibility. I don’t have to feel that when I’m with anyone else.”

I don’t wish he was more like Aemond. I wish he WAS Aemond. “I understand, Aegon.”

He gives you a pitiful, off-kilter, childish smile. “Goodnight,” he says just before he leaves, clutching the doorframe with clawed hands. And then: “Goodnight to both of you.”

[blackberrysummerblog]

WIP Wednesday

I’m back on my married-by-the-Crucible AU bullshit (LIES, I never left. Even the clothes-shopping snippet I posted for Six Sentence Sunday is from The WIP That Ate My Life). It’s coming along, though! And I’m going to tag people this time!

This scene is at a garden party reception that Baz’s parents throw to ‘celebrate’ 😒 his marriage to Simon, and for the happy couple to sign the Book. Baz has a brief conversation with his cousin on the patio that overlooks the party below. (Canon divergent details are that Baz was homeschooled after being bitten as a child, and Simon managed to give himself wings and a tail while at Watford, much earlier than happened in canon.) Hope you like it!

‘If it isn’t the old married man!” I’m caught off guard by someone thumping me on the back, which says heaps about my concentration today. It’s been a long time since anyone’s successfully crept up behind me, even with the amount of noise generated by the party.

“Dev.” My smile is genuine; Dev is my cousin and the same age as me, so he and his former schoolmate Niall are the closest I’ve had to real friends. He hugs me warmly, smelling of some expensive tobacco scented cologne—and underneath there’s a hint of good, clean, solid oak. (I always notice, even when I’m not trying.)

“Which one is yours?” Dev asks, waving toward the crowd below. The breeze is picking up a little, enough to carry music from the bottom of the lawn.

“You hadn’t heard I was paired with the Chosen One?” I ask, smirking. Dev went to Watford with Snow, at least for a little while; his parents sent him to boarding school in France to finish his education a few years back. Less plebby, don’t you know.

Dev winks at me. “’Course I have, but it’s been years since I saw Simon Snow. And isn’t he supposed to have wings and a tail still?”

“Temporarily spelled off for the occasion, at his request.” I search the crowd until I spot Snow, mugging for a young woman I dimly recognize as Penelope Bunce. She’s smiling politely as he holds his hands palm-up on either side of his face and hops from foot to foot—magic only knows what he’s miming, but he looks a complete fool. And completely happy, carefree in a way I haven’t seen enough of. “There,” I say, pointing at him. “That numpty over there.”

Dev follows my gesture and gives a low whistle. “He’s filled out nicely,” he comments. “I remember him being something of a ragbag, but he looks—Crowley below, look at you, Baz.” I break away from staring at Snow to glance askance at Dev. “You’re utterly smitten.” He shakes his head wonderingly. “Lovestruck.”

“I’m no such thing.” (I am. It’s a miracle Simon Snow’s name hasn’t tattooed itself across my forehead from the sheer force of my obsession with him.)

A sly grin moves across Dev’s face, one I know better than to trust. “So,” he wheedles, edging in, “How’s the sex?”

“We’re not discussing that,” I say shortly, looking back at Snow. He’s absolutely glowing.

Dev relents. “It’s just that...I’d wondered if the Crucible choosing the perfect partner meant that it was...you know, staggering.”

Certainly a word for it, yes. Still staring at Snow, I give Dev a little shrug. “I should think the Crucible would match people according to whatever characteristics are most important to them.”

“Sex for me, then,” Dev predictably replies. He folds his arms over the railing and bumps my shoulder with a companionable air. “You know, I went to school with Wellbelove, as well. Her father’s a magickal doctor, he could probably have those wings and the rest off in a blink. Make travel a bit easier—Snow was a bloody menace in the school’s minibus on field trips.”

The image of Snow haplessly trying to crowd into a minibus with his schoolmates, annoying everyone in the process, mitigates my urge to push Dev into the hedges beneath us for his suggestion. Poor Simon, scruffy and obtrusive. He’s deserved so much more than he was given.

But he has me now. “I don’t mind the wings. Excuse me,” I say to Dev, turning toward the steps.

“Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” I flash Dev a hurried smile. He’s my cousin, after all. “I just remembered something. Catch up in a bit?”

He nods, so I fling myself down the steps and into the crowd, making my way toward Simon with as few stops for polite greetings as possible. (It takes an age. A literal age). “Snow. I—excuse me, hello, Penelope. Lovely to see you,” I manage, barely remembering my manners as I take hold of Snow’s arm. “It’s the appetizers. There’s a bit of a problem.”

“What!” Simon exclaims, looking horrified, at the same moment that Bunce retorts, “Caterer’s problem though, isn’t it?”

“They need our input. We’ll just be a moment,” I say, trying to convey urgency without physically yanking Snow off his feet. I hardly need to, though, since I’ve said the one thing guaranteed to get him moving—if he knew which direction to head in, he’d be the one dragging me.

He’s prattling on as I hustle him into the mudroom at the side of the house and lock the door. “Baz, what is it? It’s not the stuffed mushrooms, is it? Or the tattie scones? Merlin, did they burn the pastry cups?!”

Rolling my eyes, I push him up against a bank of coat cupboards. He’s delusional if he thinks my parents are serving tattie scones, Crowley. “There’s nothing wrong with any of the food, Snow,” I murmur against his ear, inhaling the rich, fatty scent of browning butter that is just Simon, beneath his soap, beneath even his magic.

He turns his head and laughs when I nuzzle his neck—he always does—then slides his fingers through my hair as I kiss along his jawline. “Baz.” Pushing at my chest, Simon looks up at me with wide eyes. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t the caterers need us?”

Tagging @raenestee @thewholelemon @captain-aralias @ileadacharmedlife @cutestkilla @ionlydrinkhotwater @dazed-squid @artsyunderstudy and anyone else who would like to share!

[mirkwood-meriwether]

If there's one thing that offends me about this premiere it's that weak-ass eulogy for Sly 😡😡😡

[lantsovsupremacist]

i saw that you asked for requests and i also saw that you wrote some nikolai stories based on taylor's songs (i loved). so you could write something based on wilders dreams or you are in love or call it what you want, you choose pls

MY BRAND yes of course i can.

nikolai lantsov: you are in love

and you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars...

“marry me.”

you shook your head. while any other girl would likely collapse onto the cobblestones had they the pleasure of hearing those words from the king, you would not. you could not. the possibility of accepting his proposal was a lie you no longer could afford.

“i have a certain inclination to your use of words, darling,” nikolai caught up to your strides easily, “without them, you answers are so very unclear.”

you stopped your pace, shutting your eyes. obviously, nikolai only meant to try and persuade you of his reasoning. he was unaware of how the repetition further shattered the pieces of your heart.

“stop asking,” you requested unevenly, “i cannot marry you because i cannot be a queen.”

“cannot or will not?” nikolai dropped his calm disposition. his words now swam through endless seas of exasperation.

eyes widening at his assumption, you glared, “your people will not accept a grisha on the throne. they will not make an exception for love because they cannot understand how such a thing between you and i could exist.”

albeit offended, nikokai softened, “and i wish i could do more to protect you but even i am unable to offer you reprieve from your own doubts.”

however bold or brash his words seemed, you took them because there was no other conceivable explanation. you refused to argue with him further, not when your remaining moments were already beginning to slip away.

“you have too much hope in the world.”

nikolai scoffed, knocking his shoulder into yours. you saw through his sly smirk and glowing grin, and he knew it. the fox could hide away from just about anybody but never you—not that he ever wanted to.

so, he would pretend for a minute or two, rile you up with his plethora of personalities. then, he would sober up, resounded to your ability to penetrate his defenses. your keen awareness of every notch in his armor, every foothold to climb his fortress, both aggravated and comforted him simultaneously.

“somebody has to,” he chided you, content to snake an arm around your waist and pull you flush against his side, “i don’t want to forget.”

“forget what?” you questioned, turning to face him more fully as a soft pout formed on your features.

“that i have this,” he motioned to your entwined limbs, “you,” he kissed your forehead, “to come back to. i only ever hoped my heart would find its home.”

you stilled. surely, an artist from above could have captured the moment perfectly because of it. they would have to gently shade your individual silhouettes into one, execute the softness of his gaze, and reproduce the muted lighting with watercolor.

you liked to organize your life into two categories; there was the before nikolai lantsov and the after him. before saltwater became the first thing to invade your senses in the mornings, you would have set fire to the bridge of any desperate man’s creation. after you learned to never assume anything impossible, you willingly gave up a piece of your heart to the most lovesick of them all. the one you simply could not have.

gingerly grabbing ahold of his fingers, you aimed to kiss the tip of each one. as always, he pulled away before allowing you to complete your objective. with a frown, you ran your thumb over his cheek.

“i only got to six. none of that,” you minded him with a calm look, “sobachka,” you began to warn him. 

“it’s more than five,” he commented with a reference to the day before. quickly, he kissed you to remove any possibility of a retort. you could not escape his lips even if you intended to try, which you did not.

the need for air ultimately pulled you away from nikolai. you frowned discontentedly his way, still frustrated by his actions. you understood his insecurities and accepted the validity of his feelings, but it did not ease the pain of watching him crumble before your eyes.

“my love,” you urged, “i have never understood many things and ended up running,” you held him off with a look, “but i want to stay and learn every part of you.”

bashful, he tucked his head into your neck.

“you have to spare some hope for yourself,” you said softly, leaning your head onto his.

he groaned, indicative of him sourly acknowledging your truth. you turned to kiss his temple, giving your lips the respite to linger just beneath his curls. you sucked in a breath when he responded with one of his own, planted upon the column of your throat. tender yet unexpected.

“but i want you to have it,” he responded, careful to inject the appropriate dose of his personality to make you smile without doubt of his sincerity being a means of withdrawal from the subject.

rolling your lips into your mouth, you melted under his gaze and into his arms, “okay.”

he smiled as radiantly as the sun, with a blush to match the artistry of it setting. you thought you could stay in that moment with him, that not even he could carry you to the next quite yet. you should have known better to predict his unpredictable behavior.

“so,” he drew out, “marry me, then.”

“nik-,” you breathed, fighting a losing battle with a smile of your own. his persistence did not force you to agree, rather charmed you to.

“no!” he cut off deliberately, “no,” the delivery of his words now intentionally softer.

“nikolai,” you enunciated, “if i’m a queen,” you caught the exact second light filtered back into his eyes, “i will never have you again in the same way—not how i do now, at least.”

“i don’t understand,” he frowned between his mumble of the phrase.

“we will be closer than ever before,” you voiced, “but i fear that could push us further apart than we have ever been,” you expressed with a sunken tone.

not letting you pull away either emotionally or physically, he took you into his arms. already feeling more grounded, you breathed in his scent of sea and pine. he was all around you, and it was enough.

“i could never not love you,” he countered.

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you refuted, “but what if you don’t like me anymore? after we are stressed and overwhelmed and stubbornly disagreeing?”

nikolai giggled, kissing every inch of your face, “i like every single piece of you,” his thumbs slipped down your cheeks and onto your throat, pushing your head back for further access, “i like you more than any travel i have been on, any adventure i have sought, and more than any squabble we might face.”

looking up at him under a thick set of eyelashes, you quirked a crooked smile, “really?”

“oh, yes,” he divulged, “i like you more than anyone else—even myself,” he began to taunt you, “and i happen to like myself quite a bit.”

“fine,” you relented with a light sigh, “let me show you just how much i like you and i’ll be your queen.”

a smirk stretched across his face but before he could dip his head to yours, you grabbed his hands away from your neck.

“i like you,” you began with a breath, leaning forward to kiss each of his fingertips, “one, two, three,” you continued as he watched you delicately, “eight, nine, ten.”

blinking rapidly, his gaze softened, “don’t be my queen,” nikolai mouthed, a single breath away from your lips, “continue to be my best friend, the woman i look for in every room, the reason time moves way too fast.”

“thank you for sharing your hope with me,” you spoke and drew your lips in a straight line, “thank you for letting me be in love with you.”

“i never let you do anything,” he began to sway, “could only hope you would keep coming back.”

“i’m in love with you,” you insisted, “and i happen to like that very much.”

[8bitscarlet]

Witchcraft

Summary: You've found yourself falling deeper into a certain witch's spell. But no matter how strong the magic is, it seems that the two of you just keep missing each other.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Angst/Fluff (minor cussing)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is a fic for @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest writing exchange. This one is for @mrsromanoff and the prompt: "I can't keep kissing strangers and thinking they're you." Hope you like it!

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours.*

________________

You never thought your three month assignment with the Avengers would've extended as long as it has. Missions went by with minimal injuries and maximum wins. You found yourself settling well into the chaos of the compound; the echoing boasts of Thor, the competitive edge of Danvers and the snark between Romanoff and Stark. When your three months were up, it wasn't a surprise to anyone that you immediately signed the contract from Stark, an official placement on the team.

Despite all of the alien blasters, Hydra experiments and Tony's benefit parties, nothing could've prepared you for a single person to rock your world. It started innocently enough; stolen glances at meals and ensuring you two were on the same mission team. As time continued, things turned less innocent; sneaking off during charity balls to suck face in the broom closet, you could recall a few times you were nearly caught in the back of the Quinjet. There was something about this woman. The way her fingers slithered through your hair, how those green eyes made your heart say yes, she stripped you bare.

You had convinced yourself it was witchcraft. It had to be.

Sitting with your cheek pressed against your fist, you find yourself doodling as Steve drones on in the background. Someone nudges you and as you turn, Wanda raises her brows when your eyes connect. With a groan, you raise the pen in your hand. Steve notices, stopping his spiel to look at you with a clenched jaw.

"With all due respect, Cap, we all got in at four this morning. Do we need a recap of the mission right now?"

Steve sighs, glancing at everyone and seeing them agreeing with you. You all had barely had time to unpack, let alone write your after action reports.

"Alright, Y/N. We'll go over how your pants tore mid-fight on Monday."

You point your pen at him, warning him as you watch his stupid smile fill his face. Bucky slaps your shoulders in gratitude, picking up Alpine onto his shoulders as he strides out to find Sam. Wanda's fingers gently brush yours as you walk side by side, sending an electric charge through your body.

"You know, when someone says 'with all due respect,' they really mean, 'kiss my ass'." Wanda glances at you with a sly smile.

Walking backwards towards the couch, you outstretch your arms with a grin, "Because that's what I meant, darling."

Chuckling, you roll over the back of the couch and plop down onto the cushions, your head landing perfectly on a pillow. Wanda lets out a scoff, knowing how many times it's taken you to actually land on the cushion and not the floor.

Flipping through the pages of her book, you watch her through half-closed eyes. A year ago you'd be asking what she was reading. A year ago, she'd curl up with you and explain it all. A year ago, you didn't have guilt eating at you.

Things a year ago were more than good between you. There might have even been a chance beyond friends with benefits. You knew you wanted that. Every time you looked at her, you couldn't stop your pounding heart or the warmth that grew in your stomach.

But you were stupid.

Chickening out every chance you had to ask her on an actual date rather than sneaking around to make her moan. You both had set ground rules, no strings attached. If it got too messy, you both had to call it quits. So, you convinced yourself it was better to quietly love her and keep her, than to tell the truth and lose her.

That was before the year long mission with Carol and Bucky. Before you realized how big of a mistake it was two months in. Before every day texts and video chats diminished to every other week, then every other month. Before you got back to the compound and saw her kissing up on some random benefactor at the Welcome Home Party. It was definitely before she started dating that walking toaster, Vision.

Luckily, he hadn't been around much the past month so watching them kiss and stare into each other's eyes was doable, mostly because you turned whenever you saw that stupid spark plug.

Four months since coming home, you've tried to fill the void the witch had created in your body, your soul. You went out with Carol and Bucky, prowling the town and the bar. Matching shot for shot some nights, waking up in random apartments other nights. Eventually Bucky did what you never did.

He asked Sam on a date and that left you and Carol. Until she started hooking up with Maria and dragged her along so you wouldn't be hitting the bars alone. You had made yourself a pity case.

"Do you need something?" Wanda cocks a brow at you, making a face at your prolonged staring.

You clear your throat, feeling the heat rush through your face, "You look a little sunburnt."

With a shrug and a chuckle, Wanda bookmarks her page as she places it down on the coffee table. Standing, she sits down on the couch, your body automatically scooting over to accommodate her. Holding out her red and glowing hand, you watch her pull off her rings, displaying the radiating tan lines running up and down her fingers. A laugh escapes you as you feel her hand slap against your chest.

"I didn't have anyone to put sunscreen on me!" She groans, "It burns!"

You guide your finger gently down her exposed arm, pressing in slightly to her warm skin. As you lift, you see the true color of her skin before it's bombarded with the glowing red of her burn. Glancing up, her green eyes watch you carefully, both of you not acknowledging the weight of her hand still on your chest.

"An aloe vera massage would do wonders," You whisper, "And I'm all out."

With a roll of her eyes, she leans back into your legs, "You really are a pain in my ass, y'know? When I tell people about you, that's the first thing I say."

Watching her float the remote to her awaiting hand, you grin, "Oho, so you're telling people about me, huh?"

"Please, check the ego there."

For the next moment, the two of you sit peacefully in each other's silence. Wanda was one who clung to those she trusted. When you came back, it was like she had superglued herself to you any time you walked into the room. It didn't help that you were still madly in love and she was taken.

Right now though, you watch her delicate fingers play with yours. Her eyes squinting with laughter as she watches her sitcoms, glancing to see if you're laughing as well.

A commercial echoes through the living room and Wanda lets out a sigh for attention, patting your thigh as she drops your hand. You don't move it as it lands atop her thigh, only gently stroke your thumb against the silky skin you wish could press against yours. Letting out a noise that you're both awake and paying attention to her, she glances over at you.

"Since you got Captain America to actually give us a free weekend, what's your plan tonight, casanova?"

You shrug, "I have early training with Bucky and-."

Wanda moves her whole body to face you, your hand slipping from her thigh as confusion spreads across her face. She lets out an unbelieving scoff,

"You're joking. You used to show up half drunk to training and still kick ass."

She's watching you carefully and you try to keep a neutral look on your face, she knows all of your quirks. Glancing up at her with a small grin, you pull your legs into you. Shifting yourself, you sit properly on the couch and run your hands through your hair.

"Just don't want to go out tonight. It's boring." You chuckle, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

Wanda rolls her eyes, "Why, no one catches your eye anymore?"

Another playful nudge and you sigh. All this playful teasing, these light touches. She has to know what she's doing.

Trying to keep a steady and nonchalant shrug, you shake your head,

"No one out there."

And you might've gotten away with it. Instead, you fell into the magnetic pull of those green eyes that cause you so much trouble. As your eyes land on hers, you can see the dilation within her pupils. Then the realization across her face. Her playful grin falls as she stares at you, blinking slowly.

"Y/N," She says slowly, "If you're doing what I think-."

You stand up quickly, your feet taking you to the other end of the coffee table. In two days you'll be gone and you'll be back in the place you hate being in right now. Placing your hands on your waist, you look up from your tapping foot.

"Wanda, I can't keep kissing strangers and thinking they're you."

Silence meets your face. You watch her as she slowly nods at you, "That's exactly what you're doing."

Groaning, she slides her fingers through her hair, pinning it from her face. Wanda lets out a careful breath before looking up at you, "What happened to no strings?"

Slapping your hands against your thighs in frustration, you let out a scornful chuckle, "Come on, Wanda. You know those rules were bullshit! No strings means not going on exclusive trips to museums and restaurants!" You watch her eyes flicker around the room, trying to find a way to disprove what you're saying. "It means not staying up all night when the other is sick!"

Wanda stands up quickly and you can see the look on her face, she knows what you're getting to. Waving her hand to get you to shut up, she tries to get to the stairs but your words blurt from your mouth,

"It means not falling in love!"

Her feet stop carrying her towards the stairs, her body frozen in the middle of the compound. Carefully, you step towards her, leaning ever so slightly to try and catch her eyes. They're glazed over from your confession, trying to understand the implications.

"I left. I..." You suck in a shaky breath, "I thought it would be easier if I wasn't here. You were so adamant about no strings, Wands. I broke the only rule, why would I stay?"

Her head jerks back at your words, her brows furrowing deeply down her face. Without another second to keep talking, Wanda's feet pivot as she shoots a finger into your face. You jerk away from her advance, seeing the growing mist within her eyes as she shouts,

"That's why you left?"

The crack in her voice sends one through your heart.

She turns quickly, her hands violently wiping at the tears that have broken free. You clench your brows. She's angry at you? You're the one who's had to watch her prance around with Vision, you just a memory of romance. Just before she can grab her bag and leave, you call out,

"Well, you seem to have fared better than me!"

As the words leave your lips, you bite down hard and shut your eyes. A surprised choke exits Wanda's throat as she throws her purse back onto the side table, knocking over the decorative bowl of rocks. They scatter across the ground but she doesn't notice, all of her rage is pointing at you. Her fingers run violently through her auburn hair, looking like she wants to rip it out.

"You are infuriating!" She jabs a fingers at you, "Why think that?! Because I'm dating Vision? He's filling a void, dumbass!"

Her words stab into you as her stomps draw nearer, you can feel the heat of her anger. She's not done, she's not letting you off easy.

"Every time he touches me, every time he kisses me. God, Y/N! All I can see is your dumb face."

Wanda's heavy breath washes over you as she finally stops her assault, so close you can see the blue in her green eyes. Her body radiates out to you and you have to force your hands into your pocket to not grab her and kiss her. Your eyes dip to her lips but you see sadness that has quickly replaced the facade of anger. Making a small fist, she slams it into your chest as her head bows. Her arm slides down your body, hanging limply at her side as she looks to you.

"Why didn't you talk to me?"

Wanda's fingers twitch forward, wanting to grab onto you. You sigh, taking your hands from your pockets and resting them on your waist. Your confession was supposed to be more romantic than this. Instead, you brought up issues you both were trying to ignore. You were angry now at yourself, taking it all out on the person you loved. You'd spent too long with all of this pent up emotion though, and it was all pouring out in waves.

"I have to finish my requisition forms. Get my gear ready."

You don't have to look up to know what face Wanda is making at you. It's the same face she had when you left the first time. The way her brows clenched together in disbelief, the pain behind her reddened eyes that threatened to spill more tears, how her chin trembled as she tried to breathe.

Her voice barely passes a whisper but standing so close, you hear every broken syllable, "You're leaving again."

You sigh, rubbing your throbbing temples as you feel your nose stuff up.

"You drop all of that on me and you're just going to turn around and leave?"

Shaking your head, you want this conversation to end. It's obvious where she is and it's not next to you.

"Don't you have a date or something?" You ask.

Wanda's been around you too long to not see exactly what you're doing. She lets out a chuckle, a lethal look in her eyes.

"No, you're right. And that date seems a hell of a lot better than this." Without another word, she snatches her purse from the table and starts to climb the stairs, leaving your feet frozen. Just as she reaches the middle of the staircase, she stops. You can feel her stare burning into you and as you look her way, you wish you hadn't.

"You're a coward."

Those words burn into your brain, rising through your ears and torture you for the rest of the day. The only thing you could think to do was slam your fists into the closest thing. The punching bags. People came and went, eyeing you try and punch away your frustrations to no avail. When the sun finally had sunk below the horizon, one Avenger had enough of your pity party.

"You know she's right." A voice comes from behind you.

You don't respond to them, just dodge the swaying bag. They walk into the room, stopping just inside of your peripheral.

"You're an idiot, you know."

With a chuckle, you sidestep the bag, "You need to be a little more specific."

"You're losing her again."

Another punch, "Uh huh."

Carol sighs next to you, "And you sent her away on her date."

"Yup."

She steps in front of the bag, stopping its movement and stares at you with determination in her eyes, "And you're not going after her?"

Avoiding her stare, you start to unwrap your hands, wiping at the sweat that pours down your face. Stopping, you can feel the cramp in your side and the throbbing of your knuckles. Chucking the wrap, you let out a shrug,

"Is there a point?"

Carol shoves the bag into you, grabbing your attention, "I am not going on another mission with you while you sulk. Do you know you talk in your sleep? Yeah. Guess what name I heard that whole year?"

You shake you head, licking your chapped lips as you search for water, "She didn't say it back."

You hear an exasperated chuckle from Carol, "Y'know Y/N, I'm going to go on a limb and say she wasn't expecting all of that to be thrown in her face."

Shooting her a glare, she keeps talking, "I'm saying this once. If you think this is going to be some cheesy Rom-Com where she bursts through those doors and confesses her love, you're more of an idiot than I thought." A finger jabs hard into your chest as you grimace, "You need to fix this."

Carol leaves you there with your head filled with more thoughts than before. Wanda was happy with Vision wasn't she? She hadn't talked about him much but you knew she had to be. Who were you to go and screw that up?

Night turned into morning and after staring up at your ceiling, you knew you weren't getting any sleep.

Sneaking down the stairs, you see everyone is still asleep. You take the opportunity to sit in more silence and wait for the coffee machine to finish steaming. The sun was just beginning to shine its red hues into the kitchen as you stood at the counter, twirling your empty mug. Lost in thought, you failed to hear the padding of feet coming down the stairs.

"I thought you had early training."

With a quiet chuckle, you lean into the counter, "You caught me."

In silence, you watch the witch pour in her coffee. The same amount of creamer and sugar every time, the same motions every morning since you've noticed her. Turning, she sees your mindless fingers twisting and turning your empty mug. Wanda raises her brows and holds out her hand,

"Refill?"

You hand over the mug and watch her work her magic on the black liquid, turning it into the caramel drink you love. Breathing in deeply, you watch the bubbles swirl around the liquid. You furrow your brows,

"I can never make mine taste-."

"We broke up."

Her words slam into you, your breath catching inside of your throat. Looking up, Wanda stands there in the middle of the kitchen, unsure if she had truly spoken or not. She looks up at you, her mouth closing as she realizes she doesn't know what she's doing.

"What? Wands, are you okay?" You start to stand to go and comfort her, you know they had a date yesterday. Did the son of a microwave hurt her?

Wanda's hand rises, stopping you in your tracks before she takes a quiet breath, "We broke up almost a month ago, Y/N."

Nodding at your obliviousness, you knock your knuckles against the counter as you press your lips into a thin line, "We're both liars then."

"Tell me you lied about the mission," She whispers, leaning into the counter. Her fingers laying gently across yours.

Your chest constricts as you sigh, "I didn't."

You watch her sullen nod, curling hair falling out of her messy bun as you gently graze your thumb across her knuckles. She quietly chuckles,

"We just missed each other."

Stopping your thumb, you clench your jaw. This isn't going to happen again.

"Wanda," You whisper, listening to the sad hum she gives you as she glances up with bloodshot eyes, "I'm sorry. I was scared and... I was an idiot."

Wanda pats your hand with a loud sniff, "I appreciate it, but-."

She doesn't continue. She doesn't want to believe that you're leaving. The love you feel wouldn't be strong enough to survive that time apart again. There's broken support beams and one thing will send it falling down. A far away mission isn't the nurturing this budding feeling needs.

Wanda tries her best to flash you a grin, "Let me teach you how to make coffee."

Before she can turn, you grab her hand quickly, "I'd prefer if you made it."

As you walk around the counter, you gently rest a hand on her waist, watching her carefully. Her handgrips your arm tightly, words stuttering from her lips as she tries to remind you that she's not going. You're leaving her again.

Without hesitation, you press your lips against hers, feeling her breath wash over you in a sigh. You pull her in tighter, leaning your head back to speak,

"Sam's going stir crazy. He can have it."

A smile tugs at your lips as you see her furrowed brows on her face, you place a kiss at the center of the wrinkles, pulling back to see the scrunching of her nose. A scrunch just for you.

"Wanda Maximoff. I love you. And I'm not losing you twice."

Without warning, her lips smash against your as she wraps her arms around your shoulders as you hoist her up. Wanda's legs wrap around you as both of you are smiling so wide that you can't kiss properly. Feeling her cold hands press gently against your face, you look into those green eyes that complete you life.

"I love you." Wanda whispers as her witchcraft wraps around you once more.

[burntmcnuggies]

Jealous Bird (Smut)

Jealous! Hawks x Reader

Warnings: sexual themes, strong language, feral Hawks, rut, unprotected sex, and a jealous birb, 18+ only please! :D

If you’d like the fluff version and not the smut, you can go here! ➪ Fluff <3

“Mornin’ chicken wing. What’re we doin’ for breakfast? I paid last time so this is allll on you.” Hawks sent a playful wink towards you as he landed beside you from his previous place in the air, holding his hand up and rubbing his index and thumb together as a sign he wanted you to pay. You rolled your eyes and rose your hand, mocking him. “Don’t forget who spent hours doing YOUR paperwork because a certain birdbrain was too lazy to do it.” Hawks held up his hands in defeat and slumped over, sticking out his bottom lip, over exaggerating his facial expressions. He whined and let his wings droop. “C’mon just one more time? Pretty please with your favorite pretty bird on top?”

“Stop dragging your wings, you’re gonna get them dirty.” You scolded and pat his back, slightly feeling how tense his shoulder were. You were about to offer to give him a massage later, not wanting your friend to have to sleep tonight with stiff muscles until you noticed something. His wings were almost glowing a whole new shade now. Such a vibrant and beautiful color. It was then realizing how close you were that you could hear a faint cooing bubbling from his throat. “...? The fuck are you doing Hawks?” He looked over confused and tilted his head. You grumbled at his lack of knowing exactly what he was doing. “Do you even have complete control over your body? You don’t even realize you’re whistling and cooing like some pigeon.”

You completely missed the pissed off look that crossed his face at your comment. He plastered on a cheeky smile and put his hands behind his back, picking his wings off the ground and tucking them firmly behind his back. “Nah, sometimes my bird-side comes out, especially during spring. God I go fuckin’ crazy. Sometimes it’s early and I have to take a whole week off a work!” You looked up to a couple trees you both passed while you were walking to your usual breakfast place, KFC —Although you always debate you want to go somewhere else. It was late winter, very close to spring, about March. You never kept up with the date. “Why do you take a whole week off?”

“People with animal quirks like me would understand. Just like Mirko! Haha, I’m sure she’s the worst right now bein’ it’s early March!” He laughed and put his hands out, his hands snaking into his pockets to firmly stick there. You pouted, wanting to know exactly what Hawks was talking about. You told Hawks everything, but he didn’t give you the same treatment. “I’ll just ask Mirko later then if you refuse to tell me.” Hawks quickly wagged his finger side to side in front of your face, his other hand being placed on his hip now. You were familiar with his body language and how much he loved using his hands. “Nah ah, chicken wing. You do that and she’s gonna pounce on you. You won’t see light for days!”

“Mirko has accidentally jumped on me before, it’s not like we haven’t sparred before! I can withstand some punches and kicks!” Hawks sulked again, his hands digging back into his pockets, displaying his annoyance that you weren’t listening to him. He just looked away and shrugged his shoulders back. “Just trust me, kiddo. It’d be for the best you didn’ see Mirko, especially at a time like this. I know how she feels.” You were starting to get irritated at his lack of response to your question, only dodging it and making you sit in suspense. Finally you gave up and decided to bring it back up later. “I’m just gonna stop asking, you’re obviously not gonna answer me are you?”

“Haha! Nope! You know me too well, (Y/N).” You both arrived at KFC, immediately greeted by the manager and many of Hawks’ fans who knew he came there a lot. Many asked for his autograph or a selfie, but he refused politely. “I’ll do some after I get some chicken! I’m starved!” Super fans offered to even pay for his food, to which he declined, saying that you were kind enough to have already offered to pay for his food. A total fat lie! He begged you to pay! You sent him a glare and proceeded just to order both your meals while Hawks spoke with his fans. “Well, guess I can start now! Who’s first?” After he saw you were paying and ordering, he began to sign autographs and take selfies that would no doubt be on social media in minutes.

“Man! I sure do have a lot of supportive and loyal fans! Must suck never bein’ noticed.” Hawks passively insulted your rank as a pro hero by taking a jab at your ranking. You were somewhere in the mid thirties. Not popular at all, especially in this part of Japan where Hawks was born. “At least I have fans who aren’t thirsty for me! Getting all wet and horny at night thinking of their hero Hawks taking them from behind~” You smirked and rose your hands shrugging your shoulders, before hugging yourself. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and squirming with a dreamy smile, mocking his thirsty fan girls. “Oh Hawks! Please I’ll do anything for you! Take me! Oh please fuck my sopping pussy with your big fat cock til I can’t move anymore! Mm! Cum inside me! Let me bare your kids!

You didn’t notice the way his wings trembled and his face reddened, his avian eyes widening as he watched you speak so lewdly. He shook it off quickly before he got out of control and leaned forward towards you smirking. “At least I have fans thirstin’ for my cock~ haven’t heard of anyone wantin’ your boring ass!” He gave a closed eye smile and brought his hands up to give you a big fat thumbs down. Your eye twitched and you remained silent, not having a comment. That was until you remembered a villain hitting on you not too long ago. “Well at least I’ve had a villain fawn over me! I can still remember it clearly! ‘Oh fuck, I would turn good to get a piece of that ass!’”

This time you noticed how his brows furrowed, and his wings fluffed up, almost as if he just had a whole shiver rake through his body. “When was this?” He asked, his head now resting in his right hand, staring intently. You thought about it for a minute, before taking a wild guess. “Ehh, about like a couple months ago.” This only put him in a more sour mood. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. Maybe it was what you talked about? Obviously you’d never talked about anything sexual with Hawks, but on the topic of thirty fans aching for him, you wanted to make jokes since he was always mocking you and making sly insults. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. Well... it kinda is.” He admitted afterwards and smirked at you teasingly as if you would already know it was your fault. You frowned, about to open your mouth again before they called your number to get your food. You sighed and stood from your seat, walking over to the counter and retrieving the food, however, you were stopped by a man. He was young, about nineteen or twenty, quite handsome. “Excuse me miss, this may sound really straightforward and all but, you’re really pretty, and I was wondering if I could get your number?” You blushed a bit and looked away. You were a bit weary, but decided anyways. “I-I don’t know... I guess so. You seem nice. It’s-“

“Hey there, you gotta hobby of stealin’ other people’s things?” A gloved band came in contact with your shoulder, and a large shadow cast over you and the man in front of you. The man gasped in amazement at seeing the number two pro hero standing before him, it would’ve been a better experience if Hawks wasn’t threatening him with his looks and smart-ass remarks. “Huh? Oh! S-Sorry I didn’t-“ Hawks rudely interrupted the man, his gloved hand squeezing harder. His smile was obviously forced, and his feathers were starting to fluff up every second that past he stood in front of this guy. “Eh don’t worry about, you didn’ know. Now that ya do, don’t come near her again, Kay?”

And in the blink of an eye, Hawks pulled you away and out of the fast food restaurant. He aggressively pulled out the food and shoved yours against your chest, unwrapping his quickly and munching on it. “What the hell Hawks?! That was a bit much! He was being nice! It’s not like we’re dating or anything...” You trailed off, watching his wings twitch and fluff. You had noticed his strange behavior for a couple days now. His feathers would fluff up every now and again —you had no idea why— especially near men. “You should be thankin’ me chicken wing. I just saved you from a world of heartbreak.”

“That’s not your place to decide, Hawks. I don’t intervene when women ask for your phone number.” You crossed yours arms and turned your nose up at his childish behavior. He didn’t respond, finishing his breakfast and throwing away his trash in a nearby can. His hands slipping back into his pockets, displaying that he was closing himself off from you now. Of course, you began to become irritated at his lack of voice, but you decided to let it go and not pressure him further. “You’ve been acting weird lately ya know? I’m getting worried...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Oh how you hated his emotionless voice, so bland and robotic, it honestly pained you. His eyes were sharp, quick to notice your saddened expression. Hawks sighed heavily and stuck his bottom lip out, wrapping his arm around your arms and pulling you close to him. “I’m one of the top five pros, you don’ gotta worry about me, chicken wing. Cheer up.” You smiled and shoved him off, only a bit happy his cocky and arrogant behavior had returned. The Hawks you knew and cherished. “You know, I hate you sometimes, but I can’t help but love you at the same time.”

“Who doesn’t love me? The sexiest bird-man around.” He smirked and gave you a flirtatious look, a small sound bubbling from his throat similar to a whistle. You returned his smirk with a teasing smile. You were almost immune to his flirty charm, key-word; almost. Hawks was definitely an attractive man. Those piercing eyes with dark markings around them, only making the color pop and glow. His messy hair swept back and disheveled. Let’s not forget about those bushy eyebrows of his, they almost look like feathers from his wings, only a beautiful ashy blonde color just like his hair. You could probably do without his egotistical attitude and vulgar tongue, but that was still all part of his charm. “Move!”

You were surprised by Hawks suddenly grabbing you and jerking you out of the way of an attack from a villain. You were right there in his chest, feeling his warmth, hearing the harsh thumping of his heart at the thought of almost losing you. Before he had a chance to say what he wanted. “Well there goes our leisurely patrol. And more paper work on our desks.” Hawks grunted in annoyance and took to the air. You finally regained your composure and got into your fighting stance. “Ready to kick some ass Hawks?! Whoever lands the final blow is treated to lunch!”

“Heh, you don’t stand a chance! Show me whatcha got!”

—

“Thanks Edgeshot... I totally owe you one.” You scratched their back of your neck with an awkward smile as you stood in front of the current number four hero. While Hawks was on the assault, eager to show off and boost his already high ego, you tried to get a sneak attack in, but the villain noticed you. They were about to attack you, before Edgeshot came and got you out of the way. Hawks didn’t take this too well. He became angry immediately and finished off the villain in a matter of seconds. “No thanks necessary, (H/N). I was just doing my job.” You hated being in debt to someone more than anything, so you quickly threw out an offer.

“Please! Let me take you out for drinks! Honestly! I’ve gotta do something! I-“ Suddenly a large shadow cast over you for the second time that day. You turned around and shrunk down noticing Hawks’ wings spread wide, fluffed to the brim and shaking in anger. His face was red and his eyes were narrowed at Edgeshot. He was angry at himself for not being able to protect you himself, and at Edgeshot for rescuing you and holding you close. That was supposed to be him. “H-Hawks? What’s wron-“ Edgeshot was the one who answered your main question earlier before Hawks could even get another word out. The answer shocked you to your core, finally understand why he was acting so weird.

“He’s showing his dominance, and in a public place no less, how careless.” You looked at the ninja hero confused before you turned your attention back to Hawks. Dominance? His wings were such a beautiful vibrant color now. A shade of red you’d never seen them before on him. A sudden flash captured your eyes, taking your attention away from his beautiful wings. The media was eating this up. Soon it would reach the Hero Public Safety Commission and the president would not like this one bit. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I’m impatient, I can’t wait any longer.” Your eyes widened as your attention was fully back on Hawks now. You opened your mouth about to ask what he meant, but something was preventing you from doing so.

Hawks’ lips were firmly placed upon your own, his bright red rings wrapping around the both of you to shield you from any watchful eyes wanting to take a peek at you. His lips were soft, his hands finding themselves on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You were shocked, your eyes wide, heart hammering wildly out of your chest at the sudden action. Slowly, you began to kiss him back, falling victim to his charm and passionate ways. He was quickly heating up the kiss, but you placed your hands on his chest firmly, pushing him away just enough to separate your lips. He was chasing your lips, desperate to get another kiss. “Hawks what-“

“I’m tired of waiting. I can’t fucking hold it in any longer. I know I’m impatient, but you make it so fucking hard to hold back sometimes.” You opened your mouth about to question, but the only thing that came from your mouth was a terrified scream having Hawks launch you both into the air and fly quickly through the skies. You held onto him for dear life, screaming at him to put you down. You nearly hugged the ground when Hawks reached a luxury penthouse apartment. “What the hells the matter with y- mmm!” He forced his lips onto you quickly, roughly grabbing your body and pulling you against him. His wings still outstretched and flapping slightly.

His feathers went to open the sliding glass door, pushing you inside while still having your lips firmly connected. He was hungry, eating your mouth like it was the only thing he’d had in years. His tongue forced its way passed your lips, dominating the inside of your mouth with his fiery passion. Your hands clawed at his fluffy tan jacket, pulling him closer, your body now aching to be touched more by him. He was just so intoxicating. It was starting to get hard to breath after a while, and you tried to pull yourself away, but he moved with you, keeping your lips firmly together. He only parted away to growl out an order to you. “Breath through your nose.”

His hands were on you again, thick gloved hands trailing down your waist to grab a handful of your tasty ass. A squeak flew out of your lips, allowing him deeper access to your mouth than he already had. You couldn’t deny the dampness beginning to build down there. Your panties were now wet with your slick, making you slightly uncomfortable with the way the damp fabric rubbing against your folds. “God.” He breathed against your lips, not even giving you a second to catch your breath before he was on you again. His hands quickly got towork on getting your shirt off. “I can smell your fuckin’ arousal. Fuck it’s intoxicating. You drive me fucking crazy!”

“H-Hawks! W-Wait!” You voiced your want to stop and talk whatever he was feeling out, but just seeing that lustful passionate look in his eyes, it was a lost cause. His pupils were blown with lust, his breathing heavy and ragged, desperate to start touching you again. “It’s your fault... all your fuckin’ fault it came early. Now be a good baby bird and take responsibility.” You didn’t have time to refuse before he was on you again, his lips finding their way harshly to your neck, his teeth lightly biting. You jerked your head to the side, moaning softly at the feeling of his canines digging into your skin. Your heart was hammering harshly against your chest feeling his thick glove drift up your shirt, roughly grabbing your boobs, groaning at the squishy feeling in his hands. “I didn’ want you to see me like this... but after all the shit that’s happened today... I can’t hold back. Not anymore. That was out the door whenever you started mocking my thirty fans.”

He pulled your shirt over your head quickly, pushing you back into his couch while his hands grabbed your waist, his tongue sliding across the top of your breasts. A shiver raked through your body, low pants leaving your mouth as you watched his mouth move lower. In a flash of red, a feather came up and sliced your bra open, being the impatient man he is, he didn’t want to struggle with getting it off you just to see those perky nips of yours. You were quick to cover yourself, too embarrassed showing your best friend your body like that. It’s not like you would ever look at each other the same after this. A strong grip enclosed around your wrists, Hawks grabbing your wrists and pinning them by your sides.

“H-Hawks...” Your breathy whisper of his name drove him almost mad. He breathed onto one of your nipples, hot breath fanning over the entirety of your perky buds. You squirmed in discomfort and whimpered, your body betraying your mind, desperately wanting his mouth on you. “Hah... I knew you wanted me just as much as I fucking wanted you. How long, how long have you wanted me? Tell me. Tell me how much you crave me right now, ‘cause I can’t get enough!” He drew out the flat of his tongue, running it over your nipple, all while his golden eyes stared right at you expressions. Your legs clinched together tightly feeling a tingling sensation spread from his lick. “Hawks no, mmm~ you cant...”

“I can, and I will, you’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ you out of my apartment until I’ve marked you as mine, and you’ve got so much fucking cum inside you that you’ll already look pregnant.” Your eyes widened and you jerked away from him. Pregnant?! Was he out of his mind?! You weren’t even dating yet! Sure you’ve had feelings for him for a long time now but this was all moving too fast! “What did you expect? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. So fucking good. You won’t be able to think about anyone else but me.” Now it all clicked. What he said earlier, how he was acting now. Why hadn’t you noticed it sooner? He practically told you everything this morning, you were just too stupid to consider it.

Mating season.

That’s why his feathers had been brighter, the cooing and whistling coming from his throat. The displays of dominance to other men who you conversed with. Courting traits for a male trying to attract a female. You weren’t dumb, animals mated to do one thing, and one thing only. Reproduce. Their instinct immediately is to find a female and mate with them, reproduce and leave. However, this wasn’t always the case in some. “Fuck, you smell so damn good down here. Your pussy’s so wet for me already. And I haven’t even done anything, yet. Looks like you’ve become a thirsty fan, huh? Wanting my cum deep inside you and gettin’ wet while I manhandle you? Fuck, you’re so damn sexy.”

“Hawks m-more~” You were hesitant to ask him for more, worrying for your poor body and your sensitive heart. Only sensitive for him. You accepted your feelings for him, struggling to voice your new found notion to him. He growled lowly in response to your request, hands hastily pulling your pants off in one fell swoop. He was absolutely feral. “I wanna eat you out so fuckin’ bad. Your sweet pussy, sopping snd beggin’ to be stuffed, fuck.” He has a particularly vulgar tongue most of the time, but never like this. He always expressed how hard it was for him to hold back, but this was a completely different side of him you’d never seen. It was like he was feral. A complete animal. “Oh, I’m gonna tongue fuck the shit out of you. You’ll cum all over my tongue, just like how you’re gonna squirt all over my cock.”

He stood up quickly, his feathers dispersing to shrug his jacket off before he pulled his tight shirt over his head. Just like that his wings came back to life, flapping slightly as a readjustment. His gloves were removed as well, now you could feel his bare hands roaming over your exposed body. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs and putting your inner thighs around his head, but not too tight. He approached your entrance, a damp spot clearly evident on your fabric panties. His fingertips dug into your thighs, pushing his face flush against your panties. He let out a breathy moan against your wet folds protected by your panties, subconsciously humping the couch for even the slightly bit of pressure against his hard cock.

“Hah, fuuuuck. I’m so horny, everything’s so hot. Let’s get these cute little panties off. Don’t wanna rip ‘em now. Need something to hold my cum inside your pretty pussy so you bare my kids.” Hawks grabbed your panties and pulled them down your legs and onto the floor. He kneeled on his knees in front of the couch, his head between your legs, your feet propped against the coffee table, and your hands gripping the couch anywhere you could, desperately wanting to grab his messy hair. “Oh god...” He moaned at the sight of your sopping pussy, your slick slowly dripping onto the couch much to your embarrassment.

“D-Don’t stare dumba- H-Hawks!” You cried out his name in surprise once he drove his face deep into your crotch. His nose firmly pressed against your sensitive clit, his tongue diving deep into your cunt without warning. Your hands dove straight to his hair, pulling at his blonde locks trying to keep yourself composed from his pleasure. “Oh fuck! Oh Hawks! Sh-Shit! Mmm baby yes~” Your head was spinning, his teeth lightly pressing against yours folds. It didn’t help anything with all of the lewd smacking and slurping of his tongue eating you out so damn good. “Ahh! N-No Wait! Your tongue! It’s so... Ngh! Deep!”

“Keep moaning for me, just like that. Moan for me and don’t you dare fuckin’ stop.” The vibrations of his lips against your sensitive pussy cause you to flinch and squirm against his sinful touch, fingers pulling at his hair harder. An unexpected groan escaped his lips as he went back to work, tongue swirling and digging around, searching for that one spot that would make your world come undone. You continued to moan and call out his name, instinctively pushing his head deeper. His movements were quick and sloppy, savoring every lick of your delicious fluids, groaning lewdly against your pussy’s lips once he found that spot. “Oh fuck! Right there! Mm~! More! Please a-again!”

He ruthlessly began to abuse that spot, pushing his tongue harshly against it and attempting to massage it. His fingers poked and prodded at your insides, pushing his fingers past and replacing his tongue with those long slim fingers of his. Your head was now thrown back against the couch, releasing his hair and clawing at the couch for dear life, desperately clinging to anything you could grab. You moaned at the foreign feeling, forgetting what if even felt like to have sex. You had a fleeting experience in your last year of high school, but that was it. One time thing. Now here you are doing it again, with your best friend no less, or were you even friends anymore? His fingers worked on making sure you were prepared for him. You were enjoying yourself, being pleasured by the man you’ve hidden your feelings from for years. Him however...

His cheeks were dusted pink, sweat trickling down his forehead with some of his curly blonde locks sticking to his face. His breathing was ragged, heavy and stuttered with a thick sense of desire behind it. His wings were quivering, the color so vibrant it could rival a neon sign. Now you didn’t know much about their nature, but you could tell just by looking at his wings that he was very excited and desperate. “Gotta get you nice and prepared for me right, chicken wing? Gotta get you ready to take my fat cock.” His lewd words made your world just so much hotter. You could feel your arousal leaking down your pussy to your puckered hole and down onto Hawks’ expensive couch. “Ahh! St-Stop! I’m-Im gonna cum! Oh god I’m gonna cum!”

He jerked his fingers out quickly, grunting in the process as he lustfully stared at his fingers coated in your juices. He breathed out a moan while he kicked away all your juices, growling lowly in possessiveness. “Sorry chicken wing but... I want you to cum on my cock. I want to feel you clampin’ down on me, cumming so hard you faint. Screaming my name at the top of your lungs so that everyone knows that you’re mine! All fuckin’ mine.” Your eyes widened seeing him sit up more, pushing his pants down the rest of the way before kicking them off, leaving him in only his red boxers. His arousal was definitively clear, noticing how the head of his cock peeked out from the waistband, leaking pre-cum, tip red and aching. The sight was undeniable steamy, your legs clenching together with your thighs slowly rubbing together. “That’s right baby. Already thirstin’ for my cock, aren’t you? Fuckin’ slut. My slut. Hah... fuck I gotta be inside you.”

He pushed his boxers down, revealing his aching hard-on. Balls lulling down, full of cum, ready to be emptied out inside of your tight pussy. Without thinking, you sat up slowly coming close to his erection. You could smell his heavily masculine and musky scent from where you were, but you needed more of him. You sadly didn’t get far before he grabbed your head and pushed you back. “Nah ah, baby. Not today. I’m too fuckin’ horny and desperate to let you suck my cock today. Next time.” Next time? There was going to be a next time? Your heart hammered harshly knowing your long time friend and crush planned on doing all of this again with you. “Hang on tight, dove. It’s gonna be a long bumpy ride.”

“W-Wait!” You watched in worry as Hawks pinned you down, spreading your legs and positioning himself. You hadn’t taken him seriously, but now you regret it. “P-Protecti- Ahn~!” You couldn’t even protest once he pushed himself inside, moaning loudly at the sinful heat that engulfed his cock, heating up his entire body more than it already was. His wings flapped slowly, occasionally twitching as he impatiently waited for you to get used to his size. The cool breeze sorta calmed you down, taking your attention away from the pain nestled in your lower regions. “Fuck, can I move? Please, please let me move.”

Good god did he sound fucking hot begging.

“Yeah, y-you can- MMM! Fuck!” You threw your head back, pleasure spreading through your body. As soon as he heard the word “yeah” he immediately got to work on fucking your cunt until you were overflowing with his cum. You harshly bit your lip, holding in your embarrassing noises from his ears, however, he had no problem not hiding them from you. “Fuck, fuck, hah... don’t hide your moans from me. I wanna fuckin’ hear ‘em. Let everyone know who’s fucking you, who you belong to, and that you’re m-mine! Fuck!” He breathlessly moaned against your face, ramming himself into you repeatedly. Your hands were now on his back, clawing down his muscular back. He growled lowly into your ear, breathily cursing. “D-Damnit! Can’t... f-find it! Ahh... hah... fuck chicken wing, fuck yeah!”

His husky grunts were dangerously bordering animalistic. His pants were ragged, hips never faltering in movement, his wings flapping slightly and quivering every now and again. “Yeah baby? You like me fucking you? I’m gonna breed you so fuckin’ good. You’ll bare m-my clutch! You’re mine, ahhaahh! Fuck!” You were crying his name, clenching his back with your legs squeezing on either side of his waist. His cock was hammering against a bundle of nerves in your body you didn’t even know you had. “Hawks! Oh god! Please! Slow down-!” He pulled out quickly, leaving you a whimpered mess without that full feeling in your stomach. He flipped you over, hastily ramming himself back in you from behind, his wild thrusts getting harder. “Yeah, fuck yeah! There it is! Yeah! Gonna cum right in that womb if yours, you’re gonna be so round and pregnant with my kids! N-Nobody’ll ever come near you again! They’ll know you’re mine! My dove! My b-baby!”

His hot hands pushed your lower back, slamming you down against the couch and brutally fucking your tight pussy like no tomorrow, animalistic growls leaving his lips, teeth burying into your shoulder and neck. He was marking you as his. You were covered in his scent now, other men wouldn’t dare come near you now that you were filled with Hawks’ pheromones. “I’m gonna cum! Ahh! Hah! Hahn fuck I’m cumming Hawks! I’m cumming!” He rose his hand and smacked your ass harshly, the red tingling sensation spreading through your cheek. It felt so damn good. He grasped his hand over your stomach and pushed harshly. “You’re cumming, yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock? Gonna try and milk me are ya? Milk me, baby! Milk me so damn good and get every last drop of my fuckin’ cum in that ripe fertile womb of yours!”

“Hawks! Hah! Hah! Oh I’m cumming! Nhhh I’m c-cum...ming! Ahh!” You came harshly all over his still thrusting cock, your creamy juices spreading all over his cock and slipping down his balls full of his child baring cum. He didn’t stop yet, still bucking his hips through your orgasm even though you were still so sensitive. “Ohho! You’re such a good girl! So good! Fuck baby! Yeah, keep squeezin’ me! Keep fuckin’ squeezin’ meee! Agh!” He groaned deeply into your ear, desperately panting and grunting into your ear. You cried, physical tears running down your cheeks at the intensity of his brutal thrusts on your aching sore cunt. He slapped your ass again, squeezing it tightly afterwards with his nails creating crescents in your smooth skin. “F-Fuck I’m close! Yeah you want my cum? Tell me you want my cum deep inside you! C’mon baby, say it!”

“I want your cum Hawks! Mmm! Please! Please I want it! I wanna carry your kids! I want to be bred by you! Ah hahn! I can’t! Please!” You immediately regretted your words. His pace had become quicker, harsh pounds becoming desperate. You could feel his balls slapping against your inner thighs, a red itchy tingling bubbling up. His hands came around your neck, the other going to harshly rub your clit. You couldn’t contain the endless moans, cries, and screams of his name, his hero name to be precise. “Oh god! Oh my god! Feels so good! Mmm! Hawks, I-I’m gonna cum again!” He pants against your ear, snarling and growling about how good and round he’s gonna make you.

“Fuck I’m cumming! Hah, fuck!” He grunted loudly and released heavy shaky breathes, his raging hard on twitching inside your now gooey insides. You came harshly, your walls clamping down on him. He was fully embedded within you, balls pressed firmly against you, his scarlet wings twitching and flapping, stretching widely suddenly stiffening up. You could feel the warm spurts of his cum deep inside, forcing a low moan past your swollen lips. His wings happily drooped once he had finished, his head now hanging low, trying to catch his breath. “H-Hawks... I love you.” You finally admitted to him, watching intently to see his reaction to your words. He laughed huskily, his golden eyes raising back up to meet yours, still cloudy with lust. “You fuckin’ better. You’re my dove, now and forever, ya hear that? Now...”

“Let’s make sure you get pregnant.”

—

Pain was the first thing you were met with the morning after your undeniably passionate night with Hawks. Feathers were scattered all over the place, large blankets thrown everywhere, and some of his clothes were thrown over you. Incredibly confused, you sat up but quickly jolted back down as a searing hot pain shot through your body from your hips. “Woah there, chicken wing! Relax, you must be in a lot of pain. I don’t blame you after the harsh fucking I put you through last night.” The man who had put you in such pain walked into the room, shirtless and only in a pair of boxers. The bed dipped slowly as he sat on the bed, handing you a cool glass of water. You painfully sat up, gently taking the glass from his rough hands, thanking him quietly. “What the hell did you do while I was out?”

The pro hero looked around the room before coming to lay eyes on you again, scratching the back of his neck with a faint blush on his cheeks. “I uh, made a nest!” He answered bashfully. It was an incredibly rare sight to see him embarrassed. Uncomfortable sometimes, but never embarrassed. You looked around the mess and raised a brow. “Nest? Why the hell did you-“ You stopped once you remembered what had happened last night between the both of you and what you had realized. You blushed and threw the covers off yourself quickly, horrified at the sticky mess dripping from your insides, still. Just how many rounds had you gone with him last night? “Hah, Sorry. I just couldn’ hold myself back. My ruts are really bad, which is why I always take a week off.”

“You didn’t have to cum inside me this much Hawks...” You said and cringed at all the fluids dripping out of your abused cunt. You didn’t notice, but his wings shivered, ruffling up a bit at the sight of your leaky pussy, until they settled down again. “It’s your fault ya know? Makin’ me so damn jealous I had to claim you for myself. Claim you before someone else took you.” Your cheeks reddened slightly, and you looked to the side, your heart racing. Of course, he could feel your sensitive heart racing, and slowly leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your eyes widened in surprise, melting into his sweet kiss. There was no sexual intention behind the kiss, only a reassurance that you didn’t have to worry about speaking your true feelings, that he already knew you loved him. “You’re my baby bird now. You’ve upgraded chicken wing. Congrats.”

“How many levels are there with you?” You laughed, enjoying this sweet moment with your new lover. He laughed and hopped into bed beside you, pulling you close to him in your little nest. His hands ran over your flat stomach slowly, cooing and flapping his wings lightly. “A lot more, step up your game, baby. You good though? How do you feel knowin’ you have the most popular hero’s cum inside of you. Mixin’ with all your fertile eggs to make my fuckin’ kids.” He growled possessively and wrapped his wings around you protectively, kissing your head and over your face. You couldn’t help but turn red at his words, embarrassed by how blunt he is. “Do... do you really want to have kids Hawks? I mean... we just started... d-dating...”

“Who cares the order, as long as you’re mine and that little bundle of feathers inside you is all mine, order can go fuck itself.” You rolled your eyes, flicking his arm gently. His whistling and cooing got louder the more he cuddled you, his lips peppering your face with kisses. “Ya know they already have story’s about us? They got my whole ‘top bird’ thing on video.” He seemed quite happy with it. The president of the HPSC would not be happy about this once she found out. But knowing Hawks, he couldn’t have given two fucks about it. He raised your chin, smirking smugly. “I also tweeted that we’re dating and that you’re mine, and that we’re gonna have chicks, and that all those other guys better stay away or I’ll kill ‘em.”

You rolled your eyes. “You jealous bird...”

[rafescoke]

Crime ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Part #1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader would do anything for the boy she loves from a summer ago.

Warnings: Story takes place at the start of season 2 (and some flashbacks from season 1), swearing, angst, death penalty, gaslighting, reader just needing help

A/N: i don’t think this is my best work at all :( but i’ll post the part 2 straight away!! didn’t know tumblr has a word limit now wtf

p.s; tell me what do you think of this fic!!

(Y/N) had begged for somewhere else to spend the Summer. She couldn’t go back to that place, not when there were too many memories that awaited her. No one seemed to listen to her, and her father continued to check something online.

“Rafe Cameron.”

“(Y/N),” she had smiled, and she thought about how gorgeous a boy could be. This man before her; with his hair messily parted and that goddamn blue eyes had her holding her breath, and she wasn’t in her usual demeanour.

“You come down here often?” Rafe asked, raising his eyebrows. (Y/N) watched as he chugged on his beer, and gave her another sly smile again.

“Um, not really. This is my first summer here.”

“That’s nice,” he shrugged, “Welcome to Obx.”

“Thanks,” she nodded, liking how Obx already is. She made a mental note to tell her friends back home about this island, and most importantly; Rafe Cameron.

“Do you wanna take a walk?”

(Y/N) never really accepted any boy’s invitation for a walk, because all the boys in the city never had good intentions with her. She never dated anyone, never bothered to do so.

“Sure,” she smiled, and walked alongside the dirty-blonde boy to the far end of the beach. He sucked in a breath, glancing at her from the corners of his eyes, and laughed.

“You look nervous.”

“You could be a mass murderer.”

“Isn’t that just the perfect person to spend the summer with?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, the moonlight from the sky illuminating his features. God, he really is beautiful. “I guess.”

“So would that be a problem if I killed someone before?”

(Y/N) laughed easily at the joke, bumping her arms against his. She felt a jolt from the touch, and swallowed her saliva. “No.”

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah. That’s more like it.”

(Y/N) had thought of that moment as nothing but a joke. A playful joke, meaning to flirt with her. The next few weeks were spent with only them two, sometimes in his house or (Y/N)’s stay. They were inseparable; always attached by the hips morning and night, and (Y/N) knew about all of his problems.

“Try it.”

“What? Coke?” She asked, bewildered. She looked down to the table, her hands fidgeting, and she quickly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked up to Rafe again, “I don’t know how.”

“Come on, I’ll show you,” he smiled, pulling her by her wrist and seated her beside him. She felt the jolt again, but she had gotten better at ignoring it.

Rafe lowered his hand, a finger placed on his left nostril, and snorted the line of white powder. He grunted, throwing his head back, and after a few seconds, he gave her a smirk.

“Your turn.”

(Y/N) smiled back, reaching for the rolled up bill before lowering his head to the last line. She took a deep breath, still so shaky, and snorted the powder before she could change her mind.

Her heartbeat quickened, and her mind was all over the place. She could feel her forehead getting clammy, and before she could do anything, Rafe cupped her face in his large hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” he expressed, looking straight into her eyes. (Y/N) didn’t realise she was starting to cry, and stared back into his eyes.

“You’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, rubbing comforting circles on her temples. (Y/N) relaxed under his touch, “Such a pretty girl.”

“I thought you’re friends with that Cameron boy,” her father suddenly said, shaking her out of her memories. (Y/N) closed her eyes, trying to push away the thoughts, and gave her father a grimace.

“So? I don’t want to see him.”

“What happened between you two? You used to ask me to move to Obx,” her father laughed, still clicking on the mouse to the laptop.

“People change, dad,” she muttered, and made her way back to her bedroom to be alone with her thoughts.

“Rafe! You don’t have to do this,” (Y/N) gasped, her hands around her mouth. She looked around the gazebo by the lake, her eyes brightening against the beautiful fairy lights and veins decorating the railings.

“It’s your last week here,” he shrugged, helping her to her seat before sitting for himself. He pointed to the food displayed before then, “Steak. Your favourite.”

“You are amazing,” she expressed, her eyes suddenly glassy. The lake never looked so calming, and (Y/N) wished she could capture this exact moment in her head.

“Just thought you should see the other side of Rafe Cameron,” he shrugged, his lips forming into a smile. “I’m glad you came down here to Obx.”

“Me too,” she breathed, and went for the food. “I’m so glad to have met you.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled, cutting his steak into small pieces before biting into one. “Didn’t you called me a mass murderer the first time we met?”

“It was a joke,” she rolled her eyes, “But I’ll still like you even if you are.”

She didn’t know the truth behind her words.

“You will?” He looked up to her, grinning. “And just like?”

“Just like. What are you playing at, Rafe?” She faked groan, putting her cutleries down and clasping her hand together. “What? You’re going to propose to me or something?”

Everything happened so fast; Rafe chuckled, awkwardly running his fingers through his fair, messing with his slicked back hair. She liked this messy hair better, but she liked anything about Rafe Cameron, messy hair or not.

“No.”

Rafe held out the tiny velvet box in his hands, and (Y/N) never saw a prettier smile than his.

“No,” she repeated, her breathing heavy. She was too shocked by this, only meaning the proposal part of her speech as a joke, and looked into his sincere eyes again.

“I’m not proposing to you,” he laughed, getting down to one knee and opening the box to a beautiful diamond ring. (Y/N) sucked in a breath, mesmerised. “I will though, in the future.”

“Oh my god, Rafe, I can’t accept this,” she gasped, watching as the diamond glinted under the bright light. “You’re too much.”

“It’s a promise ring,” he smiled, “And a proposal to ask you to become my girlfriend.”

He sucked in a breath, and (Y/N) swore her heart stopped. She never thought of herself worthy as these kind of moments, but here she was; all teary eyed, her hand against her heart to calm her crazy heartbeat.

“Will you be my girlfriend, (Y/N)?”

She laughed, wiping the tears that had rolled down to her cheeks, and cupped his face into her hands. “You’re so fucking dumb. Of course I will, asshole, without this whole dinner thing. You could ask me while we’re in the swimming pool and I’ll say yes.”

Rafe laughed, melting into her hands, before taking out the ring he had saved up for (by not buying anymore coke) and asking for her permission to slide it over her ring finger.

(Y/N) nodded, holding her breath, and the diamond ring slid to her finger, and she gasped at how pretty it looked. She wondered about how much it had cost Rafe to buy the ring for her, but pushed the thought away when Rafe tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“We haven’t even kissed yet.”

(Y/N) laughed, “I told you you’re too fast, Rafe.”

Rafe smiled, inching closer to her, and (Y/N) just instantly stopped thinking. He was so beautiful, so angelic, and she wished she could stay at Obx forever.

“I love you, (Y/L/N).”

“Rafe,” she expressed, placing her forehead against his, “I love you too, okay?”

(Y/N) groaned, deepening her face against the soft pillow. She felt like screaming, but she didn’t have the energy to do so.

She would do anything for Rafe, and the next few days after that proposal went too fast that she felt like God was being unfair to her. He made her feel so good, and no one had made her feel the way he made her feel.

She felt like she was in heaven.

Until that one, certain Friday; the day before she went back to New York.

“Rafe, please,” she cried, pulling him by shirt as he pointed the gun at the sheriff, his eyes flaring up in anger. “Rafe, it doesn’t have to be this way.”

She looked at Ward, who looked afraid as well, and sucked in a breath. “You told me-”

“Shut up!” He grunted, his own fingers trembling on the trigger. “Fuck! Shut up.”

She didn’t know what to do. Sarah was looking at her for help, but she had tried her best to console him. She tried to reach for him again, to which he quickly pushed her away.

“Do that again, and I’ll kill you next.”

“Rafe-”

“Shut up!” He yelled again, and before she could do anything the pulled on the trigger, and the sheriff fell to the ground with widened eyes.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) jolted from her position at the knock, and groaned when her mother came in. She scooted away, giving her some space on the bed, and laid with her face planted against the pillow again.

“You never told us about what happened with you and Rafe,” she sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“Okay, so why don’t you want to go to Obx for the summer?”

“I want new boyfriends.”

Her mother laughed, “Okay. Then find new boyfriends in Obx. The blonde boy who helped us carry our bags the first time we arrived there can be one.”

“JJ?”

“He’s always around the island too, helping people for money,” she shrugged, “That’s a good kid. Doing honest work for honest money.”

“I’m not actually looking for a boyfriend, mom,” she rolled her eyes. “It was a figure of speech.”

“Well,” she stood up, “You better be looking for one. We’re spending the summer in Obx, and that’s final.”

. . .

(Y/N) rubbed her eyes against the glowing sunlight of North Carolina, her body screaming with pain from hours of sitting in the same position. She heard the pilot said something, her mind still woozy from only being caffeinated, and placed her head against the seat again.

“It’s a bright day, like it’s waiting for us,” her mother exclaimed, fixing her sunglasses before walking down the stairs to the road. (Y/N) groaned, still so tired, and she wished for nothing but to stay in her room with Netflix to watch.

“Hey, Mr (Y/L/N),” JJ smiled, and (Y/N) noticed the fake exterior he was trying to portray. “Come down here for another summer again?”

Her mother, who admired JJ’s ‘honest work’ gushed out to beside him, asking about his school and his works. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, not interested in making any new conversation, and she looked back at the area where the incident took place.

JJ caught her looking, and when her parents and the little brother had entered the car, he went to her to help her with her bags.

He crouched down, wrapping his fingers around the handle, and quickly whispered. “You saw, right?”

“Huh?”

“What Rafe did.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she muttered, and went into the car before he could say anything else.

God. Just how she expected her first moments after arriving in Obx.

“Hey! Welcome back!”

“You called the Camerons?” She groaned, looking at her father for some kind of useless explanation. After the brief conversation with JJ, she wanted nothing that could remind her of Rafe and hoped she could stay in her room for the whole 2 months.

“(Y/N), wait-”

She barged into her room for 2 months, noticing the old posters she had put up the year before, and thought about how happy she was at that time. She felt nothing now, and she couldn’t wait until the end of summer.

“Fuck!” She yelled, her head feeling so light, and placed herself before the naked bed. She sighed, trying to calm herself down, and thought of the ways to ignore the certain boy a few miles away.

Maybe he’s in college.

Maybe he’s going to leave her alone.

Maybe he has found someone new.

She felt a tug at the thought of the last sentence, and she couldn’t explain why she would even be devastated over him finding a new girl. That’s good, she guessed, at least she doesn’t have to think about staying away from him again.

Maybe she should spend her time with the pogues; JJ’s friends. They looked fun to hang with.

“Hey, (Y/N).”

“I’m not in the mood,” she grunted, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. “What do you want?”

“Can we go to the beach?”

“The beach?” She huffed, “We just arrived. Shouldn’t you clean your room or something?”

“Okay. But can you bring me to the beach after I’m done?”

“I’ll think about it,” she expressed, but after a few hours of sweeping and mopping the dusty room, placing the new bedsheet over the mattress and taking down her old posters, all she wanted to do was get out for some fresh air. She had slept most of her time in the plane so she wasn’t feeling like taking a nap at all, and she guessed it would be appropriate to bring her little brother to the beach.

She walked to her room, her hands around her waist. “Hey, you’re- where the fuck did you get that?”

“What?” He asked, raising the frame with his sister’s arms around Rafe, smiling happily at the camera. “This? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

“Throw that away!” she yelled, “I said throw that away!”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned, throwing the frame into the big plastic bag before dusting the dust off of him. “Can we go to the beach now?”

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She huffed, watching as he changed into his swimming shorts, “And we’ve been cleaning for 3 hours. You’re not half done yet.”

“Whatever,” he said, and closed the door. “Just wait for me downstairs.”

The ride to the beach didn’t take long, and (Y/N) actually felt peaceful riding the bicycle and letting the breeze hit her square on the face. She had laughed at a stupid joke by her little brother, and she thought about how she could do this for the next 2 months.

“I wanna learn how to surf,” he said, letting the water soaked his feet and dumped his feet into the sand. “Do you?”

“You’ll forget how to when we’re back in New York,” she mumbled, gazing at the sky, “Also your body’s too weak to fight the waves.”

“No, it’s not,” he argued, “What are you going to do for the summer, (Y/N)? Are you going to be with that-”

“No,” she quickly said, curling her toes at the feeling of the water soaking her feet. “I’m not going to be with anyone.”

“Isn’t that your friend?”

“Ha-ha, nice joke,” she laughed falsely, still closing her eyes against the bright sky. “Who’s the friend? Is it Rafe?”

“Hey.”

(Y/N) sat up straight, her heart beating wildly, and what greeted her sight sent shivers down to her spine, and she quickly clutched onto her little brother’s wrist before pulling him away.

“Ow! What are you doing? (Y/N), let me go!” Lucas groaned, looking back at the boy who wanted nothing but to talk to his sister. “Rafe, help!”

“Shut up, you bitch,” she groaned, still pulling on his wrist. She knew about the possibility of leaving a claw mark on his skin, but she wanted nothing to do with the boy.

“Help me, Rafe! She’s going to kill me!”

“I said shut up!” She yelled, her chest heaving now, and she didn’t care about her hair that was hanging loosely from her hairclaw.

She didn’t know if Rafe was chasing after her, and she didn’t dare to look back.

“Ride your bike home,” she fumbled with the handle, “Now. Please, now!”

“Okay,” Lucas groaned, “What’s wrong with you? It’s just Rafe.”

“Go!” She yelled, already set to cycle back home, with her clothes all wet and sticking against her skin. She couldn’t breathe, and she hated the sight of him. She cycled back home hurriedly, tears streaming down her face, and she wished she had stayed home.

The night after the day on the beach she didn’t bother to come down for dinner, only staying in her room and browsing through Netflix. She didn’t feel like doing anything, and she hated how quick her mood was ruined.

She didn’t think about seeing him that quickly, especially after just arriving on the island that morning. This was exactly the problem; she couldn’t face him, not after what he did, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn him to the authorities. She was pushing him away, but at the same time protecting him.

The next morning, she felt shittier than ever. Being in the small island, where everywhere she goes could remind her back to Rafe, she decided to stay in bed and browse through more movies, only going downstairs for a glass of water before going back to her room. She was glad Lucas and her parents were enjoying most of their time here in Obx, and she would do the same if it weren’t for what happened last year.

She was scared. She was mad at herself too, because she couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone about what she saw. As much as she hated him now, a part of her still loved him.

“(Y/N)! Wait!”

“Get the fuck away from me!” She yelled, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“No, no, baby, please-”

“Don’t call me baby, I swear to fucking god!” She yelled again, getting into the car and watched as Rafe desperately banged against the car window, pleading for her to hear him.

“It’s not what you think-”

(Y/N) cried, her head painful, and slowly slid the diamond ring from her finger before lowering the window by a slit and throwing it outside. Rafe watched the ring roll away but didn’t care to fetch it, only trying to speak to her through the tiny slit.

“I had to do it, please,” he begged, “Please. Baby. I can’t do this-”

“Go to hell,” she hissed, and sped away.

That was the last time she had ever seen Rafe, and she knew he tried to contact her with different phone numbers every day, but she had blocked every single number. The trouble stopped after a while, and (Y/N) realised how much she had been missing him.

Who could she confront about this?

Who could she tell?

She couldn’t. She loved him too much.

A week after settling in their summer home, (Y/N) was tired of all the screaming and nudging by her mother for her to get out of the house, and ‘get a life’. She didn’t feel like having a whole summer of just hanging out at the beach, not when the last time she had went there and bumped onto Rafe, so she decided to keep her distance off Figure 8 and made her way to the other side of the island.

She had only been there twice with Rafe before, to pick up something at Barry’s (he told her not to worry about it), so she never really quite get used to the road around here.

She stopped the jeep by the side of the road, glancing at the signboard and the road behind her. Did she go too far? Or was this just the wrong way?

She rested her back against the car door, already tired, and decided to just wait until she was good enough to drive home.

It was half an hour later when she heard the roaring of a motorcycle, and she quickly got to her feet, her chest suddenly heaving.

“Yo? You’re okay?”

“Huh?” She fixed her hair, “Um- yeah. Just resting.”

JJ nodded, “You should turn off your engine. You don’t want to-”

Just right on cue, the engine stopped completely and (Y/N) groaned, getting into the car to turn the engine again. It made some noise, until silence fell between them.

“That’s what I’m saying,” JJ said, “Where are you heading to?”

“Oh, nowhere in particular,” she sighed, getting out of the jeep and shutting the door angrily. Good. Just like how she wanted her day to be.

“Let me send you back home,” he offered, pointing to the black ride behind the jeep. She shook her head, her mouth forming into a tight smile.

“That’s alright, I can-”

“Walk back home? Come on, you’re far from Figure 8, and you’re 50 minutes away from The Cut on foot.”

She didn’t exactly wish for this, but it would help.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, helping her up to the motorcycle and placing her hands on his shoulders for some balance.

“You’ve never ridden a bike before?” JJ asked, half-amused. “No, no, because you look nervous.”

“I’ve just never ridden a bike with you driving,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Can you send me to the taxi stop or anything?”

“Really? Why can’t I just drive you home?”

She groaned, “Just send me to the taxi port, Maybank.”

He laughed, putting his helmet on, and (Y/N) placed her hands against her ears at the loud sound of the engine.

(Y/N) hate to admit it; but the ride to The Cut was the most thrilling thing that she had ever felt in months. She felt a smile slowly forming onto her face, and JJ swore he could see it too from the side mirror, and when they finally stopped at the taxi port, she was so happy she felt like buying a bike for herself.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “Minus one point for no helmet.”

“I didn’t know I would see you laying by the side of the road,” he rolled his eyes, a hint of teasing in his tone. “But where’s the fun when you’re all safe?”

She hummed in response, “I’ll see you around then.”

“So you’re just going to get an expensive ride back to Figure 8? Why wouldn’t you let me send you off?”

She knew exactly why, but she didn’t want to admit it. She was scared of Rafe seeing her on JJ’s bike, knowing that he’s not on good terms with the pogues, and the last thing she had ever wanted was to make him feel like he was being replaced.

“Don’t trouble yourself too much, JJ,” she sighed. “Besides, you can see me for the next 2 months everyday if that’s what you want.”

He grinned, “Good offer. Will think about that soon.”

(Y/N) laughed, tilting her head to one side before making a move to reach for her phone. JJ watched as she filled in her passcode, went straight to Contacts, and handed him the phone.

“What’s this?”

“Oh god, you’re annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Put in your McDonald’s order.”

JJ laughed again, his fingers sliding over her phone screen easily to fill in his number, and he handed her the phone back after saving his name as ‘Handsome pogue’.

“I’ll see you around, (Y/L/N).”

(Y/N) smiled, this time sincerely, and she thought about the possibility of spending her summer in The Cut with JJ where she knew there would be no troubles awaiting her.

It was safe to say that JJ and (Y/N) were inseparable after spending so much time together the next few weeks. Everywhere JJ goes, (Y/N) would be there with him, either by helping him with his work in the restaurant or running for groceries to deliver with him. She liked it with him; he took her mind off Rafe, and that was everything that she needed.

JJ knew about the girl’s relationship with Rafe last year, but he was careful not to cross the invisible line. He was gentle with her, always studying her reactions at certain places (he was sure Rafe had taken her to those places before) and in return, she knew everything about him.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she bit her lips, letting the water soaked her jeans as they laid on the sand, gazing at the view. She felt sorry for the blonde boy after knowing the truth about his father, and wished she could help him in any way.

“That’s okay,” he replied. “Hey, I’m bringing you to meet my friends. Would you like that?”

“Your friends?” She raised her brows, “Like Kiera and Pope?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “Would you like to meet them?”

(Y/N) thoughts went back to the many times Rafe had told her about the pogues, but she always saw them as a tight group of friends who always had each other’s backs. She never had that kind of friendship before, especially living in New York where almost everyone is fake, and sometimes wished she could have something like that.

“Okay, yeah,” she nodded, “Would they like me?”

“You’re kidding? You’re amazing!” JJ gushed out, throwing his arms onto the air before slapping the water, resulting in a splash across her face.

She gasped, “Fuck, you’re fucking dead.”

“No, no, I don’t mean it-”

The conversation turned into a water fight, their screams filling the air and attracting everyone’s attention, but (Y/N) didn’t care. She was enjoying the moment, with JJ, and she wished she could do this forever.

“Stop it!” JJ laughed, pushing her down to the sand before pinning her arms on top of her head. He watched as her chest heaved, a smile playing on her lips.

He pulled away, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

(Y/N) pulled him into a kiss, her fingers wrapping themselves around his jawline and allowing the water to completely wet their whole body. JJ softened into the kiss, still so shocked, but he never felt better than ever.

(Y/N) pulled away, giggling. “You’re red in the face, JJ.”

“Huh?” He smiled, and quickly pulled her up with him. “Let’s go to the Chateau. Get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not meeting your friends looking like this, J,” she rolled her eyes, pushing him away slightly. He pulled her close, placing a soft kiss against her forehead that left her all breathless.

“Why not? You’re still pretty.”

She made a face, but let her body be pulled away by JJ to his bike. She was nervous, of course, to see his friends, but she decided it was time anyways.

If she was to date JJ, then she would have to meet his friends and talk to them eventually.

When (Y/N) first entered the chateau, she didn’t know what to expect. Pope and Kiera were friendly to her, but she could feel the strange vibe between her and Kie, but they were both trying to be polite not to mention anything.

(Y/N) knew there was somebody missing from the group, but she didn’t dare mention it to anyone. JJ had hinted about this to her before, something about John B getting convicted, but she had tried her best to stray away from the topic.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Kie smiled, clasping her hands together and laying her back against the chair. She watched as JJ whispered something to (Y/N), feeling her heart tightened when she laughed, and shook her head. Kie would never let anyone like her trouble her.

“JJ, truth or dare,” Kie said, crossing her arms. Her question was directed to JJ, but she watching (Y/N) intently.

“Dare.”

“Come on, we’re short of one person who could think of the best dares,” she said, and (Y/N) realised the piercing tone and attention towards her. She sucked in a breath, not sure if she was just stating or directing the statement to her in a satirical manner.

“Okay, truth,” JJ rolled his eyes.

“Do you miss John B?”

“Kie-” Pope groaned, “Not the time.”

(Y/N) watched as he glanced at her, but quickly pulled away when he realised she was staring at him too.

“Okay, since you guys wanna be such assholes,” Kie sat up straighter. “(Y/N), truth or dare?”

“I’m not playing.”

“Of course you’re playing,” Kie laughed, “You’re fucking with JJ now right? You gotta show-”

“Shit, Kie, what’s your problem?” JJ sighed, throwing his arms up into the air. “She’s a friend of mine.”

“She’s not your friend!” She suddenly exclaimed, “She fucking saw Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin but decided to keep her stupid mouth shut because-”

“Stop it!” JJ yelled, pushing her against the seat. “Kie! Not right now!”

“What do you mean not right now?” (Y/N) asked, disbelief lacing in her tone. What was even happening? She was having the best time of her life a few hours ago at the beach, and now this?

“Oh, did your boyfriend not tell you?” Kie laughed. “It’s all an act for you to confess to him that you saw Rafe kill Sheriff Peterkin. Don’t fucking act dumb with me, (Y/N), you saw, and you didn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she gritted her teeth, “I never saw him kill anyone.”

“Bullshit!”

“Kie!” JJ yelled, using all of his power to hold off the struggling girl. He motioned for Pope to take over and tried to reach (Y/N), only for her to walk straight towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, I don’t mean it-” he sighed, wrapping his fingers around her wrist before pulling her close. “I don’t-”

“You betrayed me,” she said. “Are you that stupid? So you planned about helping me to the taxi stop so that I can confess whatever it is about Rafe? Is that your fucking plan?”

“No, oh my god, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck! I know I can never trust you guys,” she hissed, pulling her hand away before walking towards the door. She groaned again when she realised the lack of a vehicle to drive home, but she rather walk back home than be in the same distance as JJ or Kie or anyone else.

She walked alone all the way to the main part of town so that she could hire a cab, and just to make her day any better; the rain suddenly decided it was time to cool the island, and (Y/N) was left to soak.

She put her arms around her, shivering slightly, looking back at her previous way and wondering how much time she had spent walking from the Chateau. If only she had driven all the way from Figure 8 to The Cut, she wouldn’t have had to waste her time walking mindlessly.

A few minutes after, she saw a car pulling up beside her. She decided to ignore the black vehicle in hope for whoever it is to finally give up.

“Get in, (Y/N).”

Part #2

[cacoetheswriting]

library hours [reimagined] - spencer reid

warnings: age gap, professor / student, maybe a swear word or two, a lil tension, but mainly a fluffy first interaction word count: 1.7k summary: a late night at the university library leads to reader meeting a certain handsome professor.

a/n: this is a reimagined / rewritten version of this fic. for those interested, the original centres around baby!spencer. both fics start off pretty much the same, what differs is the interaction between spencer and reader.

-

There was something you always enjoyed about the going to the library.

Perhaps it was the way every single person that walked through the threshold had a purpose. A mission to complete. Perhaps it was the quiet. The solace you felt sitting alone in a corner researching various topics, for class and for recreational purposes.

The university library had quickly become your second home. A location you frequented more than your own dorm room. It wasn’t always to study, no. You people watched. Doodled. Even napped there from time to time. The place brought you peace, and by the time you senior year rolled around, you saw the librarians more than your college friends.

The university library was also the place where you first met a certain handsome professor, doctor - which in time became the main reason why you liked it so much.

Lights were slowly being turned off section by section. A vacuum came to life in one of the aisles. People started to scramble from their seats - shoving their things into their backpacks, throwing out empty coffee cups into the overflowing bins, checking out books they might still use that evening.

All signs indicating it was time to go.

Dolly, one of the librarians, ushered towards you. Her jacket draped over her shoulders, her bag in hand. She gave you the usual spiel of how you can stay until the janitor is finished cleaning, to which you politely nodded along. She wished you a pleasant night, and with a “see you tomorrow” she hurried out the door.

Once she was out of sight, you groaned under your breath and ran your fingers through your hair. You had an assignment due tomorrow, one you started hours ago and only managed to formulate three total sentences. Your gut was telling you there was no way you were going to finish now, especially since you had about thirty minutes until you would have to leave.

Leaning back in your chair, you fluttered your eyes closed in an attempt to collect your thoughts. The tranquil feeling didn’t last long however, as you were abruptly brought back to reality by someone loudly clearing their throat. You immediately sat back up and quickly scanned the space for the source of the interruption.

A tall brunette man stood a few tables away, his hands slowly sliding into the pockets of his pants. He was definitely older, by how much you couldn't quite tell. But, you definitely took notice of how handsome he was.

“The library is closed for the night.” He stated, the tone of his voice calm yet stern.

“I have permission to be here.” You retorted with as much confidence as you could muster, but the mysterious man didn't seem impressed with your answer. With an arched brow, he took a firm step in your direction.

“From who?” He challenged, as if he was waiting to catch you in a lie.

You folded your arms across your chest, unwilling to give in to whatever game he was playing. “Dolly, the librarian. I could call her if you don't believe me?”

The brunette didn’t respond. Instead, his lips twirled slightly upwards into a sly smirk and with the way he was now looking at you, you could feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You only hoped he didn't see the faint pink blush now present on your facial features.

“May I?” The man asked after a brief moment of silence, pointing to to the chair beside yours. You found yourself nodding, before quickly turning your attention away from him, and back to the book in front of you.

While he made himself comfortable, his leg brushed against yours. The sudden close contact sent a jolt down your spine and you shivered. A small act he definitely noticed.

“You’re not some sort of killer, are you? You’re not here to murder me?” You asked, tilting your head to once again look at the man. Shaking his head, he let out a wholehearted chuckle.

“No, I’m definitely not a murder.” He reassured.

“Definitely? That's over selling it, don't you think? It’s exactly the kind of thing a murder would say.” You teased in response, gaining a little bit of your courage back. He didn't reply. The smirk on his face widened just a little and he eyed you silently, as if you were a treasure map he was desperate to solve.

The two of you stared at one another for what felt like eternity. There was something amicable about the seconds that passed as you looked into his hazel eyes. Something harmonious. Friendly. Strong.

When you finally broke contact and proceeded to return to working on your assignment, you could still feel his gaze burning into the side of your head. In any other situation, with any other stranger, the feeling would have made you uncomfortable. Scared even. But there was something quite thrilling about the mysterious brunette sitting beside you.

“I’m a profiler.” He said after another moment of comfortable silence. “I work for the FBI as part of their Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He added as you glanced up at him from your notes, intrigue gracing your facial features. The statement was to make you feel safer in his presence - not that it was needed since you already felt strangely guarded around him.

You smiled, dropping your pen and shifting in your chair to face him completely. “So, agent, what are you doing at a university library on a Thursday night? Did the bad guys take a break?”

“Doctor.” He calmly corrected.

“What?”

“It’s doctor, not agent.” He said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “I have PhDs in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering.”

The smug look on his face earned him a playful eye roll. “You don’t happen to have a PhD in History under your belt, do you, doctor? Because that would be very helpful right about now.”

“No, but I do have an eidetic memory and can read twenty-thousand words per minute.” He declared and you gaped at him in disbelief, mouth parting ever so slightly in shock.

Great, you thought, as if he wasn't intimidating enough.

“You could have just said you were a superhero.” You joked before leaning in towards him ever so slightly. The faint whiff of his cologne caught you off a little off guard, and you took a mental note to never again settle for someone that only used body spray. “Don’t worry, I’m really good with secrets. I won’t tell anyone.” You whispered and gently pressed your index finger to your lips.

The comment caused the handsome doctor to throw his head back in a whole-hearted laugh. He placed a hand on his stomach as you slowly shifted back to your previous position, chewing down on the inside of your cheek down to stop yourself from commenting on how good he looked.

“Am I going to get an answer to my previous question?” You asked once the laughter died down, your assignment long forgotten.

“I teach here.”

The statement earned him another eye roll. “Seriously? Is there anything you don't or can't do?”

It was his turn to lean in. He rested his elbows on his knees and intertwined his fingers together, his hazel eyes never leaving yours. The air hitched in your lungs at his proximity. You felt as if every single cell in your body was shaking.

“Well, us superheroes, we like to stay busy.” He whispered, his cool minty breath hitting you in the process, sending a shiver down your spine.

You cleared your throat, a timid smile appearing on your face. “There uhm, there’s this diner not far from here. It’s twenty-four hours meaning they won’t kick us out. Would you like to come with me? We can have coffee?”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved back in his seat and ran a hand through his already ruffled hair. You bit down on your bottom lip, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if perhaps you had overstepped some sort of boundary since he was a professor and you were a student.

But, it was just coffee. Nothing more. That wasn't so bad... Right?

“Coffee sounds nice.” He responded with a smile, after what felt like forever.

Outside, there wasn’t a cloud in the night sky making the million stars shine all that brighter. They looked like perfect sugar granules spilled on a dark surface, accompanied by the glowing moonlight.

The breathtaking sight was accompanied by street lamps. They illuminated the path while you walked side by side, almost in sync. Shoulders faintly brushing against one another.

“How long have you been a profiler?” You asked, looking ahead. The wind blew lightly through your hair causing your brunette companion to turn his head and observe you quietly. A smile crept up on his lips.

“I joined when I was twenty-two.” He answered. You glanced up at him for a brief moment - that wasn't much younger than you now. The look in his eyes suggested he knew that’s what you were thinking.

“Do you like it? Or do you prefer teaching?”

He licked his lips, thinking. As he furrowed his brows together, you noticed the unobtrusive age lines defining his handsome features. Each individual crease telling a different story, and you found yourself hoping you would one day be lucky enough to hear them.

“Every job has its pros and cons.” The brunette man stated eventually, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let out a soft giggle at his answer. “Okay professor, now you just sound conventional.”

He chuckled, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his pants. “I’ve been called many things in my life, miss. Conventional was never one of them.”

“It’s Y/N. My name, uhm, my name is Y/N.”

You both stopped once you introduced yourself, simultaneously turning in your spots, so that you were facing each other completely.

“Y/N...” He tested your name on his tongue, and a smile embellished your features because for some reason it sounded incredibly striking coming out of his lips.

“It suits you.” He retorted and the blood rushed to your face. Now, he definitely noticed the blush, you thought. He didn’t comment on it however. Instead, he proceeded to introduce himself, “My name is Spencer. Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

-

masterlist

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @willowrose99

[chaos-burst]

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

*

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.  

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

*

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.  

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

*

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

*

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

*

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

*

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

*

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this...  how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

[hockeywhy]

caught in the middle (1); m. barzal

SYNOPSIS: For the sake of your friend’s wedding with Tito, you and Mat agree to maintain the facade of still being the happy couple everyone sees you as. But the act comes with its consequences, one more taxing than the other. WARNINGS: language. WORD COUNT: 11.2k A/N: I am so excited for this because it contains some of the tropes I enjoy seeing in fics, and I was dying to also put out some new content as opposed to only reposting my old writing. I wish I wrote this when I was still decent at doing the thing, but I hope that this is still an enjoyable read that makes you look forward to the next part! Title is based off Alexander 23′s Caught in the Middle which is such a good song and I really recommend. Sections in italics represent flashbacks. 

PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

“We’re getting married!” 

You gasped, bringing both hands to cover the lower half of your face as your jaw dropped at the announcement. It shouldn’t be so surprising – you would’ve bet even your most prized possession that this was bound to happen at some point eventually – but knowing this was actually now a sure thing sent a thrill through you. It didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and in place of it, your expression mirrored that of your best friend’s: the wide grin, the bright eyes and of course, the giggles of sheer excitement as soon as the news sunk in. Elise was glowing and next to her, Tito embodied the idea of what the world’s proudest man would look like. 

“Oh my god!” you gasped, and Elise burst into laughter, not hesitating to jump out of her seat at the same time you did so that the two of you could embrace. Among your squeals and giggles, you could faintly make out the sound of hands being clapped, then caught sight of Mat and Tito hugging. Over Elise’s shoulder and over Tito’s, you and Mat exchanged smiles and you couldn’t help the chuckle that left your mouth as soon as he winked at you. “Congratulations!” you said as soon as you broke apart, though the two of you still held hands. Immediately, your gaze fell down to her hand where a ring now rested, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t taken notice of it earlier. “Just—when? How? Where? Who else knows?” 

“We don’t have a date or venue set yet, but we wanted you and Mat to be the first to know,” Elise informed you as soon as you took your seats again.

“We have a favour to ask from both of you,” Tito supplied. As soon as he said it, you felt Mat’s hand wrap around your own and the two of you exchanged a brief look during which he squeezed your hand gently, before diverting your attentions back to the soon-to-be newlyweds. 

Newlyweds. The immensity of the word sent a discrete shiver down your spine. 

“I can’t imagine asking this of anyone else: I want you to be my best man,” Tito directed at Mat.

“You shouldn’t even think of asking this of anyone else,” Mat responded immediately, and the two shook hands on it. You couldn’t help but think that if they weren’t as comfortable as they were now, they’d probably hug again, do their typical pats on the back or fist bump as they usually did, but Elise’s head now rested on Tito’s shoulder and Mat’s hand was so warm, so firm atop your own. 

“Be my maid of honour, please?” Elise asked. “I can’t think of anyone more suitable than you and Mat as best man and maid of honour. We’ll return the favour of course,” she added playfully. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” you warned without hesitating because after all, you had no reason to – and you knew Mat would agree with you. 

Although the two of you hadn’t touched on the subject yet, there was an unvoiced knowledge shared between you that eventually, this would also be you. Eventually, Mat would ask you and your heart would grow and your soul would warm, and you would say yes. Yes, yes, yes. 

As you all settled down to hear a replay of how Tito popped the question and Elise accepted the ring, Mat’s thumb began caressing the back of your hand. Though the gesture wasn’t a novelty, you couldn’t help but take notice of the way your heart fluttered each time he seemed to linger more on your ring finger. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a ring wrapped around it but neither of you were in a rush: you simply waited for the right time to take your relationship to a point in which it would become a forever thing, fully confident it wasn’t a question of ‘if’ but rather, ‘when’.

*

This was anything but the right time. 

You frown as you cast a glance down at the phone resting on your lap, eyes narrowing a little at the name which brought the display to life for the second time in the space of less than a minute. You click the side button twice, silencing the vibrations of it and from your side, your colleague leans in to whisper to you. 

“You can take it if it’s urgent. I’ll fill you in afterwards.”

“Thanks,” you whisper back. “I think it can wait until the meeting wraps up though.” 

Luke gives you a well, if you’re sure look as he leaned back in his chair and you flash him a grateful smile. 

Still, it is difficult for you to settle comfortably in your seat again and much to your chagrin, you find yourself crossing and uncrossing your legs as if the call had sent some sort of signal to your entire body kickstarting jitteriness you can honestly do without. Not long after you find some comfort and energy to draw yourself back to the present, your phone buzzes again – only once this time, indicating a message. 

I’m waiting for you in the lobby.

Fuck, you curse inwardly, locking the phone in frustration. As quietly as you can, you gather your notebook and work tablet then lean in towards Luke who met you halfway. “Have to run but let me know if I miss anything important.”

“At the current rate, I wouldn’t count much on it but will do anyway,” he states as quietly as he can and the two of you exchange sly, conspiratorial smiles before you excuse yourself quickly and very quietly while making a swift exit. 

Internally, a string of curses follow without a break in between, and you have to physically bite down on your lip out of sheer fear one might unconsciously slip out. If anyone would be in your shoes, though, they wouldn’t blame you for it. You are the type of person to stick closely to any plans and agreements made, so the fact that he just chose to turn up so unexpectedly doesn’t sit right with you. Not anymore, that is. Besides, you had both agreed to do this after your workday ended as opposed to midday and definitely not in this place. Now, you have to brace yourself for coping with a foul mood on top of whatever else the rest of the day would throw at you. 

“You’ve got a visitor,” Rachel announces quietly in a sing-song voice from behind the reception desk as you approach. She doesn’t bother masking the giddiness in her tone and you struggle to work up as genuine of a smile as you can when she nods her head towards the waiting area.

“Thanks, Rach.”

“Bet he must be so happy your redeployment to the Baltimore offices was cut short so quickly,” she coos. 

“Sure is. We’re still on for tonight?” you ask quickly in an attempt to drive attention away from the subject before she can try to lead into it too far for your own comfort at the moment. 

Rachel’s smile falters a little, her expression somewhat quizzical. “Don’t you want to postpone so you could spend some time with him? You only just got back yesterday, after all.” 

You swallow uncomfortably before shrugging. “We’ve got plenty of time to do that. So tonight, okay? I’ll catch you later.” 

“Your call. See you then, Y/N!”

You only had just a split second to brace yourself for what is ahead of you, so you draw in a breath then slowly exhale it as discreetly as you can while cutting your way across the lobby. Since agreeing to this meeting, you prepared yourself as best as you could, imagining every single scenario and devising the appropriate plan for it: from the way you presented yourself to what you said, you had a mental plan for everything including a few backups just in case. The only thing you hadn’t factored in, apparently, was how little was under your control and you hated that. Each step you take made you feel less and less prepared for what is ahead, and the thought rattles you. If you were swift enough on your feet, you could just about make a quick turn and dip into the hallway leading to the visitor restrooms. All you need is just a few more seconds. A little alone time for you to run over your lines in your head. 

Except—

Mat looks up at the same time you take a step sideways, ready to bolt towards temporary safety. His eyebrows rise a little as if surprised by the sight of you, but you refuse to appear outwardly deflated by the turn of events. Instead, you square your shoulders, tip your head back a little and arch an eyebrow. You can do this. You note he is dressed casually, and his hair is pushed back underneath a black cap. 

Unless there was a change in schedule, Thursdays were scrimmage days. 

Your jaw clenches ever so slightly as you recall that with so much ease. Then again, you basically built up a collection of information that was practically helpful or useful to exactly no one over the course of the past few years. It’ll probably take just as much or maybe more to replace that with something different, so you try cutting yourself some slack whenever you are willing to.

“I thought we agreed on five thirty,” you state coolly, pitching your voice at just the right tone to also express surprise.

Mat pushes up from the armchair, returning whatever magazine he’d picked up back on the nearby glass table. “Sorry, I tried calling earlier this morning to ask if we can reschedule but it went straight to voicemail.” 

Oh. You mentally curse yourself for not charging your phone as soon as you made it home from the airport the previous night or bothering to check the voicemail message you’d been notified of once it did begin charging earlier this morning at your desk.

“They rescheduled the viewing of the new arena for this evening, and I was in the area, so I thought I’ll drop by just in case,” Mat continues, throwing a cursory glance around the place though to you, it seemed more like a way of having a break from the eye contact. You don’t complain; you welcome that. 

You open your mouth, ready to berate his poor timing but even you could admit you carry some fault here too. Only a little. You bite down lightly on the tip of your tongue, before nodding towards the seats though you didn’t wait for Mat; you sit, deciding he could make up his own mind if he wanted to follow or not. 

“How was Baltimore?” he asks after a few moments of awkward silence while settling in the same armchair he previously occupied. 

“Mat,” you say, hoping it comes across as more of a warning than a plea. You can’t deal with small talk and a part of you thinks that’d make the entire deal even more difficult to go through with. He presses his lips together into a thin line and you take that as your sign to continue. “Elise told me she’d like us to be at the venue a day in advance of the rehearsal dinner if we can. I’ve already arranged my leave for that, so it’s not a problem for me. I’m planning on making my way there sometime tomorrow afternoon.” 

“We can go together then. I can pick you up after work.” 

“There’s no need—”

“Y/N.” The sharpness of his tone catches you off guard and you can swear Mat was equally surprised by that, though only for the briefest of moments. He slides forward a little in the seat almost as if he is more than ready to leave but Mat has  never been one to back down so easily and you doubt any of that changed during the course of the past three months or so. “You were the one who insisted we go through with this and I’m trying. I really am, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. So please. Let’s just put everything to the side, do what we need to do and then it’s done.” 

Done. Like it is a task, like it is something you needed to cross off a to-do list, scrunch it up then trash it.  

The finality of the word is so heavy that it feels as if it had managed to knock out all the air in your lungs. You and Mat were running headfirst towards a fork in the road, and deep down you knew that was truly it. If until now the two of you have been dancing around each other, playing pretend as if you were kids living in a world of fantasy, you know that eventually, you have to let light shine on the truth: whatever lay ahead, you and Mat could no longer walk the same paths. It is just a matter of admitting it not only to yourselves, but also to the people you were lying to. 

Lying for, you prefer. 

Defeated, you slump in your own seat a little, legs crossing and fingers tapping lightly against the back of your notebook. “Be at my place by two. I’ll have everything that I need ready the night before so we won’t need to wait around.” A pause, and then, “how’s Tito?” 

Mat lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Excited. Nervous. It’s the only thing he talks about in the locker, outside of it, on ice and off ice. How’s Elise?” 

“Same deal with her. I never knew there were so many shades of blue before, but I’ve been proven wrong before.”

A pause follows that could easily be attributed to the group of people rushing into the building and allowing noise from the street outside to filter in while the doors were kept open, but you can tell there is more to it than that if you are to go by the shift in Mat’s expression. His expression changes and you find you can’t quite read into it or guess what could be going on through his head. You try not to focus much on the little voice inside your mind that was bothered by it but find it takes a considerable amount of effort to do so. Force of habit, you conclude. 

“You don’t say,” Mat finally responds. There is a hint of accusation in his tone. Or regret. Maybe both.

Your lips press together firmly, a light frown forming on your face but chose to let that slide. Not only is the lobby of your workplace the least suitable place to have an argument about the two of you, but you find that even those short moments of seeing Mat face to face months after you called it quits appears to take a toll on you. You feel tired, worn out and willing to be the first one to back down for once. 

It is cruel irony that a big red neon EXIT sign is visible from the corner of your eye.

You release a quiet, long sigh then stand up from the seat. “Well, I guess we’re done here? I do have another meeting to prepare for, so…” You trail off, already backing away a few steps.

Mat opens his mouth as if ready to say something else but promptly presses his lips together, deciding against it. He gives a swift nod of his head then stands up. It’s then you notice the two Styrofoam cups in front of him and the neon EXIT sign imprinted in your mind starts flashing temptingly at you. Mat is a step ahead. He holds out one of the cups towards you and you are ready to tell him off for it, but he cut in.

“Thought I wouldn’t drop by empty handed.” When you don’t make a move to accept it, his eyes briefly peek behind you. “Rachel’s all eyes this way, by the way,” he informs you and a brief glance over your shoulder confirms Mat hasn’t been lying.

As soon as you turn to look towards the reception desk, Rachel grins, waves quickly at you then turns back to her computer screen. Begrudgingly, you accept the cup of coffee and force a tight smile. 

“See you soon,” you say by way of greeting and didn’t wait to hear a response from Mat. 

It isn’t until you scan your pass to cross the security barriers and make a turn out of sight that you take a sip from the drink and almost immediately wish you didn’t. It’s your order to a T. The two of you even brought a coffee machine that would let you replicate it on days when you didn’t feel like leaving the comforts of your apartment, especially days when Mat didn’t need to get up early for practices or scrimmages or evening games. It stayed with Mat when you left and the memory left a bitter taste in your mouth, despite the gentle sweetness of the beverage. 

Without thinking twice, you throw the cup in the nearest trash can. 

*

As soon as your order is set on the table, you ignore the basket of fries and reach straight for your glass to take a long sip from the straw, letting out a content sigh as soon as you felt satiated enough.

“Long day,” you state in response to Rachel’s raised eyebrows but she seems to accept that by raising her own glass. You clink yours against hers, take a smaller sip then set it back down on the table. “What time do you think you’ll make it over to the hotel?” 

“Well, I was thinking of trying to get there by midday on the day of the rehearsal dinner but it’s starting to look more like late afternoon. I’m…” She trails off, and you can just about pick up on her hesitation and the way her gaze shifts over to the side momentarily as if avoiding something or considering whether to continue that. You move in your seat, peeling your back away from the plush backrest to lean in a little closer.

“You’re…” you trail off, voice peaking just a little into a question in an attempt to prompt her to continue.

Rachel takes a deep breath in, shoulders visibly drooping and when she looked back at you, she did so with a look that could only reflect…shame? Embarrassment? 

“Luke and I are sort of thinking of coming along together.” At the sight of your widened eyes, she quickly adds, “just as friends! We’re still working out through a few things and we’re taking it slow. As in, much, much slower than the first time around.”

“No way! That’s… Rach, that’s so good. I’m happy for you both, seriously.” 

You find that you truly believed that, though it wasn’t a surprise to you. You had introduced Rachel to Luke while she visited you in Baltimore and at the time, he worked with you there also. Initially, you didn’t think much of it - you simply invited her to come along to a few after work drinks and the two kicked it off easily that night. Very easily apparently, because as the night started coming to an end, Rachel prompted you to go ahead without her. Ready to say you weren’t going to leave her own her own, you shortly found out exactly why: you watched with plenty of amusement and fascination as she and Luke climbed into a taxi together and whizzed off to his place, undoubtedly. That was pretty much their start and continuation. Her visits to Baltimore were more frequent and though you were seeing her often enough, it definitely wasn’t as much as Luke saw of her. And you were fine with that. They fit almost perfectly and it only took a few more meetings for them to label themselves as a couple. 

Things began crumbling as soon as Luke had moved to the New York office just a few weeks before your own return. While he seemed fine with the idea of Rachel working in the same place, that wasn’t also her take on things.

“It’s weird,” she told you through the phone. “It just… It’s so weird. I’d be seeing him at my place or his and in the office? No thanks. That’s way too much for me, you know?” 

It made sense, of course, and though you rooted for them, you didn’t want to push her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. Yet, there was a tremble to her voice, a sort of uncertainty that made you think otherwise. It wasn’t that Rachel didn’t have any feelings for him - maybe she was simply shocked to see him walk through those glass doors one morning to pick up his brand new ID and claim what would soon become his permanent desk across from yours. 

“Thanks,” she tells you, pulling you back into the present. “But like I said, slow and easy does it. We’ve been talking more and that makes a huge difference.” 

“For sure. If communication isn’t the backbone of a relationship, I don’t know what is,” you agree and wasn’t that ironic? You’re hardly in the position of giving any relationship advice at all or saying what is good for one and what isn’t. Not anymore. Not when your own had fallen apart. 

Rachel grins. “You’d know. You and Mat have been together for… how long now?” 

You should’ve seen it coming a mile away. You swallow uncomfortably, take another sip of your drink and take a few fries just to buy yourself a little more time. “Maybe four years? Don’t really keep track of that anymore,” you said as casually as you could muster, lifting your shoulders in a shrug. 

“I think I’d stop doing that eventually too at the rate you two are going. Honestly, I would’ve bet anything you would’ve been the first to tie the knot. Actually, thinking about it,” she says, clicking her fingers in recollection, “Elise said the same thing to me the other day when we caught up on the phone. She went—“

You don’t really register her words. There is a low ringing in your ears and an uncomfortable draft sweeps in the locale as the entrance door somewhere behind you is being kept open, no doubt a large group making their way in; it sends shivers down your body, but really, you are pretty sure you can’t only attribute them to a brief gust of wind. After all, your sweater is keeping you sufficiently cosy and warm. In front of you, Rachel continues praising your relationship with Mat, talking about how anyone took a look at you both and would say, whatever they have going, I want it too and you are trying so, so hard to block out as much as you can of it. You can stop her, of course; distract her with whatever random topic and you know she’d go with it but your jaw is locked in place, teeth clenched uncomfortably. You blame that and the way your nails dig into the palms of your hands on the sting behind your eyes and the sudden heaviness weighting down on your chest. 

It isn’t so much the pain of your relationship ending that was rendering you in a state of daze, but the shame of what you and Mat agreed to do: pretend the two of you were still the happy couple Elise, Tito and everyone else thought of you as just to not spoil whatever luck they thought you’d be passing on to them by being their main witnesses. And then, once the event passes and they would return to New York from the honeymoon you and Mat would soon gift to them on their wedding day, you’d tell them the truth. Or part of it anyway. Definitely no mentions that the two of you were childish enough to play pretend; just a simple, clean break timed just perfectly with your request to be permanently redeployed elsewhere. Preferably, as far from New York City as possible so that you no longer have to walk the streets you once both did or yearn to once again visit that perfect pie place the two of you once dubbed your own.

“We’re not together anymore.”

The words stumble out of your mouth in a desperate now or never manner. Despite the anxiousness that came with the act, you find relief in it also. It feels freeing to be able to admit the truth to someone that isn’t only yourself though perhaps you should’ve thought of this more carefully: the idea of now needing to come fully clean to Rachel is somewhat daunting, mostly because of what she might say in response to the front you and Mat are trying to uphold. But for the first time in what feels like too long, you no longer feel like a fraud; like a person lying to everyone around them.

“Wait.” Rachel frowns, and it was obvious she doesn’t quite know what to do with that information or how to best process it. Her head tilts a little, palm idly rubbing against the side of her neck so you take the initiative to come across as unbothered by this as possible by leaning into the seat, legs crossing as you fiddled with the drink’s straw. “What? I’m confused. Didn’t Mat just drop by earlier? You two seemed okay. He was…fine when he came in. We didn’t talk much, sure, but he was all smiley and just…normal.” 

You laugh quietly and shortly. “It’s been a while now. Maybe two or three weeks before I left for Baltimore, I think. It’d be pretty worrying if he was still hung up about it. After all, we both agreed on it. And this,” you add, a little more disheartened and embarrassed. “This…thing we’re doing. We promised Tito and Elise we’ll be there for them on their big day and we will. But they had this… I guess, idea of us being an ideal couple. Whatever that is,” you continue more quietly and with a roll of your eyes. “He wanted to tell Tito, but I didn’t want to spoil Elise’s day, you know? So he agreed. Took some convincing because it feels so… Gosh, it sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? Pretending we’re still together just to spread some fake cheer around.” 

“Oh, honey…” Rachel whispers and you read the sympathy in her voice. Not that she makes it particularly difficult to take note of. “But… I thought everything was okay. Actually, way more than okay. Perfect, even. What…uh—“ She trailed off awkwardly, but you could easily fill in that gap.

What happened?

You bring the beverage to your mouth, this time drinking from the glass directly as opposed to using the straw. The mixer stings your throat this time around but the small ice cube you take into your mouth numbs it away pretty quickly. Slowly, you chew it to small pieces and speak only when you finish it.

“I thought long and hard about this the first few weeks after we called it quits,” you admit. “We always talked about what bothered us or if there was something on our mind, but at one point we just… We stopped wanting to compromise. When I was put forward for Baltimore, it was going to be a permanent thing. Mat was happy, sure, but I could tell he wasn’t being entirely honest with me, you know? When I called him out on it, he asked me well what about us? And I said we’d be fine. Baltimore isn’t a different continent. It’s not even a different timezone. He could come over when he had free time and if he didn’t, I’d always spend weekends in New York anyway. It’s Baltimore, Rach. Not fucking San Francisco or whatever. Eventually, he told me exactly what was on his mind: he couldn’t do long distance. Not even for a short period of time while I figured out if Baltimore is really what I wanted. Isn’t it a bit hypocritical, though?” You question, but it’s clear Rachel feels a bit awkward about giving her take on it right now, so you make it easier for her by responding to your own question. “I felt lonely too when he was on the road. I was worried he’d find someone different, someone much better while away. He never gave me a reason to doubt him, but a small part of me still thought what if. This happened right before he was on the road again, actually. We didn’t call, barely even texted those weeks and then when he returned, we decided it’d be best to break up. Didn’t take us a long discussion to get to that conclusion because at that point, it just… I don’t know. It felt like we didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Rachel presses her lips together, the frown still on her face and hesitantly, she asks, “who said it first?”

“I did,” you respond without hesitating. “He wanted a break while we work it all out but come on, Rach, a break? Look me in the eyes and tell me people really believe in breaks and they come back to each other as if nothing happened.” 

“I mean…” she trails off, pointing at herself by way of explanation. “Look at me and Luke, I guess.”

You shake your head. “Nope. Not the same thing, trust me. This was for the best, Rach. It’s much neater to call it quits. That way, neither of us will feel obliged to hold back if life puts something different ahead of us.” You pause for a moment, teeth biting into your lower lip. “They said they’ll always have me back there if I decide on it, so who knows. Once I wrap up the project their called me back for, I might just take them up on it. Not quite a promotion, but it’ll be a good sidestep and maybe a change of scenery is what I need.”

“And do you think it’s good? What the two of you are doing right now?” Rachel questions, not at all deterred by your weak attempt at trying to divert conversation to a more work related topic. “And I don’t mean it just for Elise and Tito’s wedding, but for you and Mat generally speaking. I mean… the two of you have been together for a pretty long time. Doesn’t it… Isn’t it odd?” 

“It’s not normal, that’s for sure,” you confirm. “But it’d be weirder for everyone if we were to tell them we’re no longer together given we’ve been asked to do what we need to do. Rach, promise me this stays between us, okay? Promise. I know how it sounds, I know how it’ll look but trust me on this, okay?” 

She fixes you with a sceptical stare, a look that holds yet more questions than certainty but eventually, she nods her head and relief washes over you at the gesture. “I’m sorry it happened, Y/N,” she offers, voice warm and sympathetic as she places a hand on the table palm up. “And I’m sorry you went through it alone.”

You smile softly and reach for it, returning the squeeze she gives you. There is comfort in the gesture, comfort in her words and you find yourself rooting for it, so grateful to have received it. “The worst part is over, but thank you, Rachel. “It means a lot.”

“Feel like carpooling with Luke and I?”

“I’m good,” you assure as you both relax back into your seats. “Elise wants us there the day before the rehearsal. I guess just to have some familiar faces around that aren’t just wedding planners, so Mat and I agreed to go together tomorrow. Promise I won’t lose my shit if our song plays on the radio,” you add jokingly and find yourself laughing along with Rachel. 

“What song’s that?” 

Too many, you think, although one in particular stands out to you. “Brett Young’s In Case You Didn’t Know.”

*

A tray containing an assortment of dishes is set on the table and shortly after, an ice cold pitch of sangria accompanies that. Eager to cool down, you reach for one of the empty glasses to pour yourself a drink but Mat’s quicker. He takes them both, filling your glass first before his own. You laugh to yourself and Mat grins at that, briefly looking towards you as he fills his glass. You’re about to take a sip, eager to both quench your thirst and cool down but Mat takes the initiative of initiating a toast by raising his glass a little, elbow resting on the table. 

“What’re we toasting for tonight?” You ask, imitating his pose by leaning forward a little. “To our first holiday together? To how perfect the weather’s been so far? To how I mastered paddle boarding way before you did?” 

Mat laughs, lowering his head as he did so but when he looked back up at you, he clinked his glass against yours and held it there. “To all of that. To one of the many, many holidays we’ll have together. To this moment right here, to us, to you.” He pauses and the strobe lights of the bar switch from dark blue to hot pink, and the way Mat stares at you in this moment makes your heart race inexplicably. “To how much I love you.” 

He takes your breath away. Draws it right out of your lungs and you feel heady. It’s the first summer with Mat, the first  I love you from him and it suddenly feels as if this bar is too small for the both of you. You love him, and he loves you too and the only thing you could imagine doing is jumping in his arms but there’s a table between you and sangria topped wine glasses in your hands, and he’s wearing a pristine white shirt that looks incredible against his tanned skinned and there’s a lot of people around (the majority significantly older than both your age and Mat’s combined) so you simply grin and carefully lean forward more, pressing a kiss to his mouth. 

“I love you,” you murmur against his lips and even if your voice is low compared to the loud, cheesy country music blasting through hidden stereos, you know Mat catches on to that. 

“I love you,” he says right back and before you pull away, he bumps his nose against yours gently, making you giggle.

You both take a sip of your drinks and you smack your lips together, content with the turn of the night. 

You and Mat had been dating for a few months, but this was the first time the two of you will spend back to back nights and days together without needing to rush somewhere. Of course, a part of you was anxious about it - while it was easy to spend a few hours together now and then, maybe even the odd night together, it was entirely different being together pretty much all the time. There were habits and quirks you each had that might get in the way, but your worries were soon put to rest. You and Mat had wonderful chemistry together, easily able to spend your time together but also still enjoy each other’s company while doing separate activities. You didn’t want to rush into things and you made no move to do so, but it was ever so easy to imagine what living with Mat would be like. And sure, you were well aware of the fact that it wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows; the two of you would eventually transition out of this honeymoon-type period of your relationship, but something told you life would Mat would never bore you. It’d never make you wish for anything different. 

“Give me a second,” Mat says and before you could ask him what he meant, he’s out of his seat and you follow him across the bar, a little confused. 

He makes his way past the bar, past the pool tables and stops in front of what is undoubtedly a jukebox. Curious, you arch an eyebrow and watch as he fiddles with finding the right amount of change before inserting the coins in the slot. It takes him a while before he finds whatever song it is he wants and it takes enough time for him to make it back to your table before the jukebox and sound system registers the request. You don’t recognise the first few notes at all, much less the accompanying guitar strings but you don’t have time to search your memory for a title. 

Mat stops by your side, holding a hand out to you. “Dance with me.” It’s more statement than question and under any circumstances, you may have felt a little awkward about doing this, but it’s the heat of the moment and your giddiness that pushes you to your feet, hand in Mat’s. 

The two of you are beaten to an emptier area in the establishment by two other much older couples that were closer to it anyway, and you find that gives you a bit more of a boost also. Mat pulls you to him, wrapping one arm around your waist while holding on to your free hand while you hold on to his shoulder with the other. Your fingers lightly clench and unclench the soft material of his shirt, lowering your head a little and you smile against the back of your hand. It’s so painfully cheesy and there’s nowhere near enough other people dancing along to the song but you love it much more than you thought you ever would. 

“Know what I’d invest all my money into?” He asks you suddenly.

You pull back a little, still swaying along with the song. “Cryptocurrency seems like a safe bet right now.” 

Mat laughs, that big hearty laugh of his that makes your smile wider and when it passes, he presses a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Well, I’m glad one of us has a good head on their shoulders, but no.” He shakes his head, then laughs again, shorter and quieter as if recalling your response. “A time machine. I want to stop time right here and right now so that we can be as we are for a little while longer.”

“Cheesy,” you joke, despite the warmth coursing across your entire body and the jelly-like feeling forming in your knees. “But perfectly understandable.”

“Eventually, we wouldn’t need it, but it’d be nice to have one for tonight.”

“Eventually? How so?” You question, then narrow your eyes a little, the gesture playful. “You plan on getting bored of me and breaking up?” 

“What!” He exclaims and pulls you in just that much closer. He lets go of your hand only so he could bring his to your chin, tipping your head back a little. “Never,” kiss, “say that,” kiss, “again.” The final kiss you share with him is a little longer and you take the liberty of bringing your hand to his chest, palm pressing against it to feel the thump of his heart against his ribcage momentarily. Then, slowly, you graze the tips of your nails along his exposed collarbone and peck his lips once more before pulling away. It’s then that the song’s name and artist comes to your mind, almost as an afterthought. From hidden speakers, Brett Young declares I couldn’t live life without you and Mat gives you a pointed stare. “Damn, he said it before I could.” 

“It’s the thought that counts,” you assure him. “Either way, I think I prefer hearing it from you, Barzal.” 

“I’m pretty sure I couldn’t live without you,” he recites and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. He sways you both in a more exaggerated manner that makes you cling to him more out of habit than necessity. You’ve known you’d trust Mat with anything, but each day, he seems to do something that makes that thought solidify more and more in your mind. The comfort and safety that brings wraps around you like a warm blanket.

Be it the hot weather, the somewhat stifling interior of the bar, the sips of sangria on an empty stomach, the euphoria of the moment or all things combined, you nod quickly. And from somewhere in the depths of your mind, the very bottom of your heart, you respond with, “I can get used to this day after day. So don’t let me go, baby.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, tone full of care and love and warmth. He gives you his promise without hesitation and you know it’s bound to stick.

*

Your phone buzzes once. 

I’m downstairs. Need help with your bags?

You push up from the comfort of your couch and make one last round of your apartment to make sure you had everything you definitely needed from where it was placed. 

I’m good. Will be down in a minute, you text back but don’t pocket your phone right away. Instead, you stare at the screen for a little while longer, half tempted to scroll through the thread of messages. They’d provide a stark timeline of when things started going wrong and you would probably be able to see exactly how things changed between the two of you from the moment you suggested a mere break wouldn’t do it. But doing that would be like breaking a streak you had going for sufficient time to earn a pat on your back. The journey of getting to a point where you were sufficiently okay with being in Mat’s presence without any other company was a long one and the last thing you needed was to recall how it once was. 

You and Mat started out as friends after Elise introduced the two of you just a short while before he started his professional career with the Islanders. She talked about how the two of them met in school and how great of a guy he was; real down to earth, funny and incredibly ambitious - traits she also assigned to you, and therefore thought the two of you would get along great. She wasn’t wrong about it. You knew a little about hockey, going to games every now and then mostly whenever Elise dragged you along but you found that Mat made the game more enjoyable. He explained it to you in a manner that didn’t make you feel belittled or as if it should be something you already knew of, and didn’t mind explaining some things more than once. On the other hand, you introduced him to your own hobbies and the little world you created for yourself in a city as big and busy as New York. You showed him the more lowkey but homely establishments, including your favourite pizza place that - unbeknown to you at the time - would become yours and his, and even took him to a few student bars where you regularly beat him at pool while he showed off at darts. Occasionally, it felt weird to watch him unwind in such…normal places and ways while on other days, he shone on ice and was easily one of the best rookies emerging from one of the country’s most well known sports leagues. Yet despite that, you found that athlete Mat wasn’t all that different from Mat the person.

He never put a front and his genuine manner was refreshing to you, particularly during a time when you were still a college student and a good portion of the guys around were textbook frat boys. Being around Mat was comfortable and safe. You didn’t feel the need to speak a certain way or be a different person, and retrospectively, the way you felt towards him developed almost organically. You felt yourself gravitating towards him and were pleasantly surprised by the moments when he’d seek you out first. A day off here and a day off there until eventually, you found yourself spending much of your free time with him and vice-versa. 

Falling in love with Mat was easy. Being without Mat was difficult. But, thankfully, not impossible apparently. 

Convinced you packed everything you needed, made your way out with a duffle bag on your shoulder and a suitcase at your heels. 

True to his word, Mat was parked in front of your place and as soon as you pushed open the building’s door, he looked up from his phone and made his way over to you. The last thing you needed was to make the journey any more awkward or difficult for the both of you, so you didn’t argue when he took the bags from you to stow them away in the trunk. 

“Are you going across the country?” You ask, peeking into the trunk while he plays Tetris with the bags. 

“What?” He questions, evidently distracted by the task at hand but straightens up when you delicately place a hand on his arm, pushing him to the side a little. 

“You’d think you’re going across the country for like, two or three weeks rather than a couple of days,” you repeat. “Maybe put that smaller bag sideways? That might let the bigger suitcase fit.” 

He follows your guidance and sure enough, that does the trick: the suitcases fit perfectly in the trunk and you grin to yourself, triumphant. 

Mat steps back, closing the trunk and brushes his hands together. “Thanks,” he says and you nod, heading towards your seat in the front. He follows you inside just as you click in your seatbelt. “I don’t think it’ll take us more than two or three hours to get there if traffic’s as good as it was when I checked it a little while earlier. Got everything?” 

“Everything important that is. Everything else, I’ll just worry about and pull my hair out when we get there,” you tell him and you can’t help feeling proud for being able to keep conversation light and as normal as you can. 

After all, you’ve known life before Mat and you’re rediscovering it after him too. 

Mat laughs ever so quiet, and from the corner of your eye, you catch him brushing his hand across his mouth though he’s a few seconds too slow in trying to mask his smile. 

“I think I’ll need to fill up soon, but let me know if there’s anywhere else you want to stop along the way,” he tells you while pulling out of the parking spot. 

You nod even if he probably might not see it and take the liberty to scroll through radio stations. Mat doesn’t seem to be against it, so you continue switching to them until, a little frustrating that nothing seems to work for you, you connect your phone to the car and play one of your playlists. A mix of upbeat pop and an assortment of viral tracks fill in the silence for a while, and the act of singing along in your head takes your mind away from how it almost feels as if you’re sitting on needles. It takes a conscious effort on your behalf to remind yourself to loosen your shoulders and stop fiddling too much with your hands, and you’re glad Mat seems to be plenty preoccupied with driving. Once upon a time, he would’ve immediately picked up on even the most mild of your discomforts and tried to do anything he could to alleviate them. You don’t know how much, if at all, Mat changed during the time you spent apart but you want to think that you no longer wear your heart on your sleeve as much and your emotions are much more guarded, especially in his presence. 

Apparently, though, there’s only so much he can take with silence filled in by music because once he’s off busier streets, he leans in his seat more comfortably and you can tell he very briefly turns his head towards you. “Think they’ll like their wedding gift?” 

You direct your gaze away from the flashing scenery outside to Mat. “Absolutely. Who wouldn’t like it? Trust me when I say Bali’s been a place Elise always wanted to visit and I can’t think of a better time than now,” you assure him.

“If they don’t, it’s on you,” he says and it takes you a beat longer to realise he’s just joking so you huff out a laugh, relaxing back in the seat. 

“If they don’t, they can give one of the tickets to me and I’ll happily go there.” You cast a glare out at the scenery ahead, eyes narrowing upwards towards the overcast sky. “I don’t think summer will ever come at this rate. I’m starting to hate it here.”

“Doubt Baltimore was any better,” Mat points out.

“Hardly,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll ask them to send me to Miami instead. That’d be much better.” 

Mat clears his throat quickly, shifting a little. “So, are you planning on going back to Baltimore or... Why are you back?” You catch sight of the frown forming on his face, and he quickly shakes his head as if trying to rid the hint of accusation from his voice. “That sounded wrong, sorry. But just genuinely curious. I thought a permanent move was on the table?”

“It was. Still is, but they needed me back here to wrap up a project. It was a pretty bad move on their behalf to send me there before we had that wrapped up nice and neat, bow and all, but I guess…” You trail off, shrugging a shoulder. “Guess we’ll see what’s next after that. They do want me back there, though. It just depends how long it takes for things here to fall into place.” 

“Fair enough.” Another pause, another moment for him to press his lips together in silent deliberation. He did that often, and you wonder if that remains a habit still. “Was it a promotion? I forgot, sorry.” 

“All good,” you assure, brushing off the apology. “Not a promotion per se, but a sidestep with just a slightly bigger paycheck. The office there is a bit smaller than the New York one so maybe there’s a higher chance of getting promoted sooner, but I don’t want to jump the gun on that yet. How did things work out for you guys this season?” 

The Islanders had a good season, making the playoffs but fell just short of making the semi-finals, you knew that. After all, you hadn’t removed the Islanders game and news alerts from your phone and you put that on your laziness. You wouldn’t shy away from admitting to him you still followed the team’s progression, but you preferred not to. 

“Could’ve been better but there’s lots to learn from it,” Mat tells you and there’s a trace of excitement and determination in his voice. “Next season will be even better, I guarantee.” 

It’s a staple Mat response, one he always gave if he felt a game didn’t end in their favour or he didn’t do as much as he thought he should have. Sometimes, it took him some time to accept it. Usually, it came to him after pushing himself in training, after going that extra step in the gym, after re-watching highlights or coach videos and always - always, you’d assure him that it takes a team to move forward, not a single person. Always, he’d kiss you and tell you he loves you and always, you’d spend those moments wrapped up in each other’s arms, more often than not with Mat’s head resting against your chest and your leg slung around his hip. 

“Plenty of time to lift that cup, Barzal,” you assure him. “Sure, the sooner the better but there’s always a right time for everything.”

“I hope so,” he agrees pensively, and lingers on that thought. 

You let him to it, directing your attention back to the view outside and only now and then picking up your phone either to switch songs or browse through a few applications. A part of you feels almost obliged to try and push for conversation but you avoid doing so. The last thing you need is to make it painfully awkward for the two of you and you figure Mat could always do that himself if he feels like it. So, you let your mind wander to better things - to the upcoming rehearsal and the wedding itself, to how good Elise will look and how Tito will be so proud to watch her walk the aisle towards him. You imagine their reaction to the gift you and Mat contributed towards and smiled to yourself, knowing it was a perfect pick for them both. 

You don’t think about telling Elise you and Mat had lied to them. You don’t think about passing this hurdle - the final one before you two will become strangers to one another. You don’t think about how the next time you might both see each other again, you’ll both have such different lives that for a brief moment, the surprise of it will knock the air out of your lungs before you remember: that’s him without me, and this is me without him. And you won’t be the first or the last people to break up, but a part of you is certain what the two of you had was unique and could’ve been grand. So much grander.

You become more alert to your surroundings when he starts slowing the car and you notice you’re pulling up into a gas station. As much as space allows you, you stretch out a little and Mat stops right by one of the pumps.

“Want something for the road?” You ask him, unplugging your phone and taking your card from your bag. 

“Hold on, I’ll come with you,” Mat tells you and it doesn’t take long for the refill to happen before you both walk into the station’s store, beelining for the snack aisles even if you have only two hours or so until you reach your destination. 

“Oh gosh, those are going to be a nightmare to clean up if you spill any in the car,” you groan quietly as he browses through the variety of Nerds flavours. 

“But they’re so good though,” he shoots back and flashes a smile that is nothing short of sly when he picks up two boxes instead of one. 

“Yeah, until the flavour runs out literally two seconds after you put them in your mouth. I mean, enjoy that but I’m different,” you boast and pick up a bag of sour candy. 

“You just like obliterating your taste buds.” 

He’s not wrong. Sour candy and spicy foods are your guilty pleasures, and have been for the longest time. You don’t try to look into how easily he recalls that because, you tell yourself, there’s nothing to look into. It’s a mere fact that anyone who knows you would easily recite. 

“You’re wrong and you know it, but admitting that is difficult so it’s fine, Barzal. No hard feelings,” you throw back, snickering as you head over to the fridges for a bottle of cold water. Instinctively, you grab another for him and instinctively, he takes your candy and the water to pay for them but you still tag along with him in the queue. 

“No shot. I like some spice but to the point where I literally can’t taste anything else? Hey, remember that one time when you made something… Can’t remember what it was but it was so…” He purses his lips and you laugh because yes, yes you remember it so clearly. 

“So good you ended up crying over it?” You offer. 

“More like, I wasn’t crying but it was so fucking spicy, Y/N, holy.” 

“You survived though, didn’t you?”

“I only did because there isn’t a thing you do I don’t like,” he says and then, seems to catch himself but a second too late. “Didn’t like,” he corrects quietly but the damage is done. 

You swallow uncomfortably, directing your gaze away from him but don’t hesitate to nod towards the outside. “I’ll head over to the car. I’ll text Elise to tell her we’re close.” 

“Y/N—“ 

But you’re already taking steps towards the exit and out of ear shot, making a beeline for the car. Your heart thumps rapidly and uncomfortable in your chest and find that pressing a palm to your left side doesn’t make it any better. You know it’s an innocent mistake and there are some habits that die hard, but the way he phrased it triggered your fight or flight instinct instantaneously and despite yourself, you leaned towards the latter. You enter the car and take the time to compose yourself as much as you could. The last thing you need is to have a conversation with Mat about this because you didn’t want to have it - it shouldn’t happen for the sake of avoiding making the situation even more uncomfortable. It was an innocent slip up, no doubt, and you should’ve braced yourself to speak of Mat in present tense as opposed to past tense in the presence of others but it comes to you harder than imagined. 

It’s odd how you both once knew so much about each other, everything even, and now the two of you are reduced to dancing around all that and making conscious efforts to keep your conversations as short and banal as possible. 

You try and busy yourself with formulating a message to Ellie, one that’s long enough to try and make you seem as busy as possible by the time Mat returns to the car, but every line you wrote, every mini paragraph going into dull details about the trip and where you guys currently are seemed like an overthrow. So, you delete that also and simply text her an OTW just as Mat sets the sweets on the centre console and the bottles in the cup holders. 

He doesn’t start the engine immediately and your mood quickly switches to frustration. Sure, you hadn’t handled it in the best way possible but trying to have a conversation about it wouldn’t make it any better. Or at least, it’s just something you didn’t want to have to think about for the remainder of the journey. 

But he does just that, because that is what Mat always did: he talked with you.

“I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable,” he begins, “I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did. It’s force of habit more than anything else.”

“It’s whatever, Mat, so just move past it. I did, simple as that,” you tell him neutrally. 

There’s something in that response he must have not liked because you pick up on his small huff and shortly after, the car starts and you’re both on the road again. This time, with silence between you and an atmosphere so heavy it makes you wish you weren’t speeding down an Interstate just so you could open the window and let some of the air in.

-

The hotel the wedding will be held at lies in front of you, sprawling and secluded and perfect for an event like this. Tito is already at the entrance and when he spots Mat’s car, he waves quickly while Mat quickly flashes the headlights before pulling into an available parking spot.

“There they are!” Tito says by way of greeting and you walk right into his outstretched arms, hugging him. “Can’t believe so much time passed since we last saw each other. What is it, two months? Three?” 

“Three,” you confirm once you pull away so that Mat could hug him also. “It’s good to see you too. Where’s Elise?” 

“She wanted to check on some small details and said she’ll meet up with you guys in a bit. So here I am, the welcoming committee,” Tito explained and when he and Mat stepped apart, he reached out to give you another short hug which you accepted. “So how was Baltimore? Don’t suppose you liked it all that much if you’re back so soon. This guy was happy about it,” Tito adds, nodding his head towards Mat who was already busy emptying the trunk. 

You press your lips together, displaying a small smile. “Baltimore wasn’t too bad but they missed me here, apparently. Can’t complete a damn thing without my two cents so here I am for now.”

Tito frowns, but the expression is very brief. “For now? We’ll need to talk more about that later so Barzy doesn’t mope around as much as he did back then.”

You throw a quick glance towards Mat but he’s looking away towards whatever interesting spot on the ground he found, pointedly ignoring you. “I’ll have a word with him about it later,” you tell Tito lightly and together, the three of you make your way inside, towards the reception. 

“I think Elise is in the room at the end of the corridor if you want to say hi,” Tito informs you and you jump at the opportunity. 

You follow the corridor, making a right turn and continuing along the dimly lit hallway leading to what the signs informed you to be Conference Room 1. The door is slightly ajar and you begin picking up on the buzz of activity coming from within and soon enough, you’re face to face with a spacey room boasting an array of flowers and various arrangements tastefully decorating tables and drooping down from the ceiling. No doubt, the effect will be lovely during the night when colourful neon lights can be turned on. You spot Elise easily: she’s in the midst of the room with what is undoubtedly the scrapbook of ideas she’d been carefully putting together since Tito asked her to marry him. Outwardly, she’s all smiles and laughter but you can imagine the amount of effort and planning putting all of this together and working with planners takes. 

When she spots you, she squeals in excitement, sets her book down and dashes across the room to engulf you in a hug, making you stumble a few steps back. 

You burst into laughter and wrap your arms around her, squeezing her with just enough force to try and communicate how much you missed her but not so that it was uncomfortable. 

“I missed you! You’re here!” She exclaims, stepping back to look at you in disbelief then hugging you again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so happy you’re here! Where’s Mat? Is he here too?”

“Of course he is,” you assure her with a laugh. “I missed you too.” You throw a curious glance towards the room over her shoulder, nodding your head towards it. “How’s it going? Need me to take over for a bit?” 

“Maybe later. Definitely later. Come on.” She wraps an arm around yours and leads the way out of the room, undoubtedly back to the reception area where you left Mat and Tito. “Please tell me Baltimore is off the table. FaceTime is fine, sure, but it’s not great, you know? I need the real deal next to me. Besides, I’m not sure if you heard, but Mat wasn’t Mat without you.”

“So I heard, but forget about us!” You said in a desperate attempt to try and steer attention away from the subject. “Tell me about how everything’s going. Are you still nervous about it? Because trust me, Elise - you have absolutely nothing to be nervous of. What I’ve heard of so far and what I’ve seen will make it the absolute best day, surely.”

“Of course I’m nervous,” she tells you and to demonstrate, she holds her free hand in front of you and sure enough, there’s just a slight tremble to it. “Please lend me some of those nerves of steel of yours, Y/N, I’d do anything to have even a small percentage of them right now.”

“Pft, as if. Those are all show, trust me.” 

“I’ll take even that. Oh, Mat!” She greets as soon as the two of you reach the reception area and Elise spots Mat.

Much like you and Tito, they hug and when she steps back, she immediately stands next to Tito who doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They exchange a quick kiss and you smile at the happiness and bliss they’re clearly surrounded by. 

It’s the slight pressure on your lower back that makes you jolt a little on the spot and it’s then you realise Mat had gently placed his hand there to encourage you a little closer. It takes effort on your behalf to follow his guidance but you move towards him, though you wish you could physically wince at how undoubtedly stiff the two of you must look. Or hopefully, not greatly so because neither Tito nor Elise comment on it or shoot you any funny looks as the four of you engage in brief conversation, mainly surrounding the trip here and any other guests they expect to receive today. 

You don’t hang around much, though. Elise’s phone begins buzzing incessantly and she’s whisked away by the message received, but not before she fixes you with a pointed stare and demands the two of you have drinks later in the evening. Tito follows her also, even if he informs you and Mat that he feels as if he’s running around in the right places only because of Elise and the wedding planners, but you encourage him on by joking he could maybe turn a few candles on the tables this way or that for some extra oomph. 

“I can’t imagine how she does it,” you admit to Mat once the elevator doors slide shut soundlessly and the car begins moving upwards to your floor.

“Pretty sure it’s not that big of a deal to her, given what all this is leading to,” Mat tells you and you detect a hint of detachment in his voice. 

You don’t welcome it, of course you don’t, but you choose to not point that out to him. The last thing you want is an argument to break out the relatively okay mood the two of you have managed to hold, recent events that could be erased from memory aside. Instead, you simply stand back quietly, eyes glued on the red digital numbers aside until they come to a halt on the ninth floor where the elevator stops and you’re both left in a silent, dimly lit hallway. 

Mat has the key to the apartment Elise told you the two of you would be in and just before tapping in, he hands you your own copy of it. Up until this very moment, you hadn’t thought very much of the overnight arrangements. You were pretty sure you meant to ask Elise a bit more about them at some point but both your attention and hers were pulled in different directions and here you were, stepping into your place for the next couple of nights, Mat trailing a little behind you. 

You stop, arms folding across your chest and you feel Mat stop somewhere close behind you, looking into one room.

“I didn’t think this through,” you state neutrally. 

Ahead of you lay only one bed. 

[pixcldust]

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ;

pairing | rich!kuroo tetsuro x f! reader

wordcount | 1.1k

warnings | slightly suggestive

tags | rich boy x poor reader, love confession, one night stand/fwb to something ✨more✨, no beta i never have beta lmao

a/n | i dont really know if anyone is still here but this was part of a series i planned out ages ago about a rich kids au. never fully finished the series (idk i would love to pick it up again) but it’s been collecting dust in my drafts for ages. also i miss this account 🥺 love u, pls hydrate

matutine (adj): of or relating to early morning; occuring in the early morning

When your eyes blink open, the hotel room is dark and you are alone in the big big bed. For a brief, sleepy second, you think that he has already left. You feel a tired pang of happiness when you see that he hasn’t.

There’s a warm glow from the lamp in the corner that illuminates a figure standing by the window. You can smell the smoke from his cigar; a little sweet but mostly pungent, in your opinion. He doesn’t even like to smoke -- he told you that the first time you met -- but he’s always puffing away on his Cuban cigars. The logic behind that evades you, but you can always guess why. He smokes because he’s bored. He buys and hoards more tobacco than he should because he’s bored. He stays with you because he’s bored.

The last sentence wasn’t just a guess.

You crumple the sheets a little, as you move to sit up, and he turns to look at you. Cat eyes blink, backlit by the view only the top floor of a luxury penthouse can provide - neon car lights and tiny windows all blurred into a mess of light. And above it all, a starless night sky. The view is beautiful and unreal from here.

“What time is it?” your voice is a croak, swept over by tiredness. 

“It’s 3:30 am,” he replies, putting the cigar into the ashtray. “Sorry. I know you hate this kinda stuff.”

Being the only son of the president of one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan, Kuroo Tetsuro was first in line to claim the company after his father stepped down. And yet here he was putting  out a $70 cigar early because a part-time waitress, whose closet was half-filled with thrift store clothes, didn’t like the smell. You’d be flattered if you didn’t know that $70 was almost nothing to him. He would pay over $100 for a smoke without batting an eyelid. You know that far too well.

“It’s only three thirty? I shouldn’t have woke up,” you sigh, brushing a hand over your face. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to sleep again.”

A sly grin appears on Tetsuro’s face - it’s familiar and annoyingly sexy. How dare he look like that? You can’t help feeling a bit bitter.

“Want me to tire you out a little?”

You roll your eyes even as you smile, as he climbs back into the bed to rest both arms on the headboard. Caging you in, under his shirtless body. He smells fresh, like he’d just step out of the shower, despite the underlying scent of his cigar smoke. “Once a night is quite enough, thanks. I’ve got a morning shift tomorrow, and I’d like to retain my ability to walk.”

When you first met Tetsuro, at a shitty hole-in-the-wall bar that you never returned to after, he’d said all the right things in the right way. You didn’t even know he was one of the richest 20-something year olds in the country when he laughed at your sarcastic jokes, when the conversation somehow turned to kissing. You thought he was just another bar fling. Watching his lips quirk up into a smile, there’s a sense of relief that washes over you; you’re glad that he’s become more than that, as loathe as you are to admit your feelings to yourself.

His laughter shakes the bed beneath you. After months of this - this strange relationship where the both of you are something more than friends, but not quite lovers - you’ve learned to tell the difference between his mirthless chuckles and his genuine, albeit ridiculous, laughter. It’s nice that he’s been carrying out the latter more frequently around you.

“That should be flattering, but it doesn’t sound as kind coming from you,” he drops his arms and roll to the side, one leg draped over yours. Only the blankets keep your skin from touching his. “Want me to send you there? I’m free all day tomorrow.”

It’s sweet of him to offer, but the mental image of his red Rolls-Royce pulling up to the tiny neighbourhood diner, and a waitress in patched up jeans stepping out was too amusing. You tell him as much, while he trails a hand up your bare arm to tap your shoulder mindlessly. “I’m pretty sure it’d end up on the news: president’s son drops off minimum wage waitress at tiny diner. Your dad would probably murder you.”

He pinches your shoulder, playfully, moving his hand to your chest. “He can try, but am I really at fault for doing a favour for my favourite person?”

“Your favourite person, huh?”

“Yeah, of course,” he laughed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm. “Hey Y/N?”

Your hands move to comb through his unruly hair. “What?”

“Don’t freak out, but I think I love you.”

Oh. Your fingers froze. There it was.

After the first night, when you woke up to find empty sheets and a neat white business card on the bedside table, you googled him. He scribbled a little message under his name and his position as Supervisor for Kuroo Group -- one of the richest conglomerates in Japan that so happened to share his last name. You’d read the message so many times, you could recite it by heart now -- ‘Thanks for last night. Call me whenever you feel like. I had fun.’. 

The Internet told you he was a notorious playboy with a personality that endless wealth always seemed to incur: confident, detailed and bored. So so bored with his flow of gold and his shiny toys and all his different suits and ties. There are accounts, from other alleged one-night stands and business partners. They all say the same thing: that he could charm the pants of anyone and that his words dripped like honey - thick and sweet, boasting the kindness of a saint and the slyness of a sinner. 

As his dark eyes bore into yours, waiting for a response to… whatever the hell that just was, you think that maybe the Internet has lied. His words aren’t honey - they spill like expensive champagne, Dom Perignon Rose, bubbly and valuable. Something you find yourself drowning in often, although you don’t know if you could ever admit that to anyone but yourself.

“Y/N? You okay? Look, I’m really sorry if that weirded you out but I just thought that it would be unfair to act like I don’t feel anything for you.”

You don’t want to admit it but fuck, he just might be worth drowning for. 

[huihuiheart]

Special Present - Hwang Hyunjin & Park Seonghwa

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Ateez Masterlist

Note: This is a gift for my girlfriend for our anniversary. So all the bi/pan Staytiny can thank her for that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go lose my shit over the filth I just wrote...

Pairing: Dom! Seonghwa x Switch(Sub lean)! Female Reader x Sub! Girlfriend, Switch(Dom lean)! Hyunjin x  Switch(Sub lean)! Female Reader x Sub! Girlfriend

Genre: Smut, literally pure filth, with hints of fluff

Summary: Your girlfriend may be an open book, but put her in the right company and maybe she does still have a few tricks up her sleeve. Tricks that involved some of your very attractive friends. - Girlfriend’s going to be called bunny in this piece. 😉

Warnings: Foursome, Dom/Sub themes, Soft and hard dom themes, this is gonna just be pure filth, oral (giving + receiving...there’s a lot of oral going around in this), fingering, sir kink, hair pulling, spanking, hand job, mommy kink, spit, slapping, some overstimulation, face sitting, unprotected sex, choking (slight), edging, biting, praise, degradation.

Word Count: 5,415

Your girlfriend liked to think that she was sly, you had to disagree. Her face, if not her voice, gave everything away and led you to figure things out before she could surprise you. Not to mention the fact that she was just bad at keeping secrets. So with your anniversary approaching, you figured this would be the same type of situation. She would try to surprise you and even if you didn’t actively try to figure it out, details would be given away or figured out at some point even if it didn’t reveal everything.

You knew she'd likely want to talk to your friends to get ideas of what to do. The question was just who among your friends she'd go to. Though you had a pretty good idea of who she might pick. She'd at least go to Hyunjin, having a soft spot for him that you often teased her about. After all, she had the perfect excuse to go talk to him now too, flustered or not. 

As the days passed though you put together that if she had gone to Hyunjin he wasn’t the only one she had gone to considering things were too quiet still, for it to be just the two of them plotting something. It intrigued you though how determined she seemed to be to actually keep this a surprise...even if you had no idea where to start when considering what it might be.

Bunny’s fingers tapped anxiously on the table at the cafe she agreed to meet the boys at, sipping her latte as if it would help calm her despite the obscene amount of caffeine in it. Her cheeks adorn a bright blush when Seonghwa enters, smirking at her flustered state as he moves to join her. Her state is not getting any better when Hyunjin joins a few moments later, brows furrowing as he sits beside Seonghwa across from the jittery girl. 

“Bunny? Is something wrong? You seem worked up about something.” Hyunjin reaches out to place his hand over hers as it fidgets on the table still. She was shy and quick to fluster, this seemed excessive even for her. Only adding to the growing curiosity of the men across from her over why she’d want to speak to them without you here or knowing.

“Everything’s fine, there’s just something that I wanted to ask you guys for help with...it’s a bit unconventional though, so I’m not entirely sure how to ask.” Bunny’s voice almost fades into the air as she speaks, her words so soft as if afraid to commit to the reason she came here today. The pair across from her patiently waiting and reassuring her that they were in no rush for an explanation. They may not have met Bunny until after you’d started dating her, yet they knew they could trust her not to be concerned about whatever it was, knowing she’d never want you to be hurt. 

“You guys know that our anniversary is coming up right?” Bunny finally speaks up, eyes flitting nervously between the faces of the two before dropping to her drink again, or the last remaining drops at the bottom of the cup anyway, “I thought of something special to do for her, but it involved the both of you and is well...explicit...so I understand if you would have no interest in being a part of it.” 

Seonghwa hums, licking his lips as his smirk returns picking up on the little clues and already piecing things together, “Are you asking us to join you two in the bedroom on your anniversary?” 

Bunny’s flushed cheeks were a dead giveaway, the little squeaky yes not even necessary. Though the verbal confirmation is what had Hyunjin adorning a matching blush in a matter of seconds.

“Well if that’s the case then you’re going to have to spare some details to help us prepare. After all, it is a special night for you both.” Seonghwa reaches out to tilt Bunny’s chin up and finally meets his eyes for more than a moment, “Besides we’ve heard from kitten all about how shameless her sweet little bunny really is.”

To anyone who didn’t know you and your girlfriend the whole day of your anniversary might have seemed like a competition over who could spoil the other more. You both had it in your nature to be like that with those whom you care about. The two of you however were used to it at this point, and despite the playful scolding that happened you were both enjoying yourselves. Though there would be some redecorating and arranging happening after the day with the gifts that needed homes and the creative ideas some of them were spurred on. 

Three full meals and endless treats that seemed to be appearing out of thin air later and you two decided to go on a walk through the park since it was nice out and watching the sunset was always nice. Though it is a sudden idea that Bunny had today of all days did intrigue you. Assuming something was meant to happen on your walk, yet nothing did. Just some gentle conversation between you two along the way, though something seemed odd again when she led you home through the back entrance as if hiding something. Stepping into your apartment it appeared as you had left it, so perhaps it was just what she had felt like doing today to mix things up without doing anything else excessive at the end of your day.

When you go to the kitchen to get some water, Bunny follows behind. Her arms slipping around your waist as she leans against you, placing a soft kiss on your temple, “I have one more surprise for you...I’ll be waiting.”

She slips away from you as you bring the bottle to your lips, sipping the water as you watch her walk to your bedroom and shut the door behind herself again. Something that made you raise a brow, wondering what she could have hidden from you in there. You did have a pretty good idea it was something less than innocent, however. Not entirely surprising considering what today was, it simply intrigued you that she seemed to be the one that was initiating something new which wasn’t a common occurrence for her. Still, it was in your nature to tease a little bit, so while you didn’t keep her waiting for long you still dragged out what you were doing on the way to the bedroom wanting to see just what would happen.

You weren’t surprised to find your girlfriend sitting on the bed when you entered the room. Her fairy lights and other little fixtures all lit the room right now, it enough to see everything, just in a low glow now. Not that you noticed what she planned to surprise you with yet until the clearing of a throat sounded making you jump. Looking towards the sound your eyes lock with Seonghwa’s, him smirking at you, while you between him and your girlfriend for a moment.

“So this is your little surprise hm? You invited Seonghwa to join us?” Your own expression mirrors Seonghwa’s, as you look at your flustered girlfriend, only she’s not the one to speak next.

“Not just Seonghwa.” Hyunjin speaks from behind you, where he closes the door, “Of course, she extended the invitation to us. We’re waiting for your say as well though.”

“Just know that if you agree there’s no going back.” Seonghwa licks his lips taking in your form with hooded eyes, lust already hazing them over. The two men have been anticipating this moment for a while now, but still waiting for your go-ahead before doing anything. 

You look between the other three, who all seemed rather eager as they waited for your answer, it was enough to let you know everyone was on the same page about wanting this, “Well I’m certainly not opposed, especially after Bunny put in the effort to plan this.”

Seonghwa hums, rising from the spot he’d sat in across the room for the sake of the view of the door. Wanting to see you when you came in and gauge your reaction, “And yet you made her wait like a little tease didn’t you kitten? You should be grateful that she did this, but you were trying to test her patience weren’t you?”

You blink at Seonghwa with an innocent smile, “I don’t know what you mean, why would I do that to Bunny?”

He looks at you with a raised brow, “Oh is that so? What do you think Bunny? Did she do it on purpose? Did she just lie to me?” 

Bunny’s eyes widen as the two of you look at her as if both willing her to disagree with you and side with the other. A battle of dominance already stirring in the group. She’s so distracted by her thoughts she misses the fact that Hyunjin comes up behind her silently, his hand slipping around to grip her jaw firmly and turn her to face Seonghwa directly. Leaning in to feel his breath against her ear.

“He asked you a question Bunny, you better answer him.” Hyunjin whispers, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when she tries to nod in answer to Seonghwa, “Vocalize.” 

You all hear the whimper Bunny lets out at his command before she swallows the lump in her throat to finally squeak out an answer to Seonghwa’s questions, “Yes sir...she did it on purpose...she likes to tease.”

Hyunjin licks the shell of her ear as praise while Seonghwa chuckles, looking at you triumphant, despite knowing you made a mental note to get Bunny back for this later.

“You know you’re lucky that tonight is special otherwise you’d be in a lot more trouble, but I think you’ve tested Bunny’s patience enough for one night...so you’re going to get a reward with a punishment. Well, unless you decide to pull anymore sly little stunts.” Seonghwa steps closer to you, hands gripping your hips and turning your back to him so you’re facing Hyunjin and Bunny on the bed. Hyunjin leaning back slightly and making Bunny lean against his chest, nudging her legs open while toying with the hem of her little sundress, slowly dragging it up to expose more skin before letting it fall down again repaying you for dragging out your trip to the bedroom.

“Don’t you think that she deserves a thank you for arranging all this for you? Or are you trying to really put her patience to the test? Do you think she’ll do something if you do? She won’t, Bunny’s a good girl after all.” Hyunjin praises your girlfriend for her rare display of patience. Seonghwa urges you closer with his grip on your hips, while you bite your lip glaring at Hyunjin trying to get him to back off, but he only smirks at you instead, pulling Bunny’s dress up again exposing her panties now.

“You never answered kitten...do you think bunny deserves a thank you?” Seonghwa leans over your shoulder so he can look you in the eyes when he asks, raising a brow as if daring you to do something.

“I don’t know, it seems to me like she did it for the both of us. Not just her, so why should she get a treat without earning it?” You shrug looking Seonghwa in the eyes smugly, not backing down from his apparent challenge.

Seonghwa rolls his eyes slightly looking at Bunny now, “What do you think? Have you earned something yet Bunny?”

Bunny licks her lips as if debating her options, Hyunjin’s fingertips on her thighs and lips brushing against her neck serving to make that task more difficult, despite the view it gave you, “Only if you think so sir, she’s right...this is for me too, but I didn’t mean it to be selfish. I wanted to do something nice for her.” 

You tsk softly, knowing she was sweet-talking with her answer and that the boys knew too. Even still it wasn’t enough to get her into the small amount of trouble that you were, only because you had managed to test their own patience some as well.

“We know, that’s why you are going to get a treat. Only if you can stay a good girl for all of us though.” Seonghwa moves you onto the bed.

Hyunjin toying with your girlfriend’s panties before pushing them down. Making her blush at the fact that all three of you now had that view of her, even if she was still half-dressed. Hyunjin nudged her thighs open again as Seonghwa moved to settle between them. Seonghwa’s hand weaving into your hair and gripping to move you closer to her pussy.

“Well, kitten? Get on with it. Or are you not interested in earning your reward?” Seonghwa practically presses your mouth against her cunt for you, still, you decided to tease. Tongue slipping out to slowly drag through her folds before licking around her clit without giving direct pressure, smirk showing in your eyes as they look up into hers. Loving how she whimpers at your teasing already and you can tell she’s trying not to squirm too much, but behave instead.

“Are you trying to drag things out again?” Hyunjin’s voice shows he’s ready to be firm with you, but your eyes flick to his with the same smirk already knowing how to answer him perfectly.

“Only enough to hear her beg, then I’ll give in. She’s pretty when she begs though and I know you both would love to hear it, so why wouldn’t I make her.” Your plan seems to work as the two don’t say or do anything to stop you from continuing your teasing.

“Go on then, make her beg kitten.” Seonghwa hums, before his hand smacks your ass, clothing providing some protection for now, “Just know that you don’t get to cum until she does.”

As appealing as that sounds you’re not sure how it’s supposed to be a challenge as you continue to leave barely-there licks to your girlfriend’s dripping folds, well not until Seonghwa starts to work on undressing you in the same way Hyunjin had done Bunny. Worried more about seeing what was between your legs than stripping you entirely for the time being. Another smack meeting your now bare ass before two of his fingers press over the growing wetness soaking your panties.

“And you can’t even lie about wanting to cum.” Seonghwa teases his fingers spurring you on, knowing that he’ll only tease as long as you do, and while your girlfriend was by no means quiet she wasn’t begging yet.

Bunny’s hands move hoping to grip your hair and press you closer to get more, but Hyunjin stops her, pinning her arms in his own, “That’s not your job Bun, just be a good girl and take it or ask for what you want.”

She whines, squirming slightly in effect grinding against Hyunjin’s bulge and making him let out a little grunt. That being the only reason you don’t stop her hips from moving, the fact that she was dooming herself to fail if she continued to subtly pleasure Hyunjin like this. Seonghwa takes some pity on her though, or using it as an excuse to manhandle you a little more...you weren’t quite sure, and gripping your hair himself pressing your mouth against her a little more.

“Please...I’ve been good, just please don’t tease me anymore.” She finally cracks, starting to beg. It’s not enough for you yet, however, as you shake your head and while it gives her more pleasure for a moment it stops too soon, “Fuck mommy, please I’ll be good for you I swear...just please make me cum.”

Your eyes meet Hyunjin’s for a moment before you pull away from your girlfriend enough to look back at Seonghwa who nods, pleased with the fact that you seem to know that while you’re more dominant than your girlfriend you still aren’t in charge right now. His hand presses your face back towards your girlfriend’s obvious need, before moving back to your ass again. His other hand works to pull your panties down, before he disappears between your legs. Two fingers pressing into you too slowly not to be a tease as his tongue slips out to lap at your throbbing clit. It is quite the view for Bunny and Hyunjin to see, though yours isn’t bad either. Even when Hyunjin moves to stop her hips, she is not satisfied with the fact that his sounds stop. Her hand reaches to rub over his bulge before fumbling to undo his pants, something that’s difficult for her with the way your actions have her attention, especially when Seonghwa curls his fingers against your spot making you moan against her clit. Bunny barely manages to undo the button before Hyunjin helps her out, freeing his cock to let her finally wrap her hand around. That doesn’t last long however before Hyunjin grips her small wrist and moves her hand away, guiding it to her mouth only moving it back to please him once it’s thoroughly slicked with spit. Spit that she practically drooled out between fucked out moans and whimpers of pleasure. 

Seonghwa chuckling softly against your clit, “Are you getting off on the sight of them, kitten? I’ll bet that’s what has your pussy throbbing like this hm? Is the sight of them turning you into a little slut? Or were you already one?”

Seonghwa’s words don’t do you any favors, especially with the way he speaks against your clit, sending vibrations through it and only bringing you even more pleasure. Internally debating over whether it would be worth disobeying and cumming before you made Bunny did or if you should listen and hope for a reward. Seonghwa seems to pick up on that though, his hand swatting at your ass again to remind you that he had no problems punishing, not that you were sure you’d mind. A small part of you did agree though that Bunny deserved a bit of a reward for orchestrating this for you...and you just might have wanted to give that to her yourself. So you found yourself listening for now and focusing on making her cum first like you were supposed to. Not that it took long for that to happen, Seonghwa humming in satisfaction against your clit, before suckling the bud while his fingers pressed deeper inside of you, wanting to bring you your reward for listening so well. Knowing that you’d been on edge and holding back from cumming for a little bit did nothing to quell his eagerness, his actions showed that he was putting everything into making you orgasm with no reservations on his part. The sight of your fucked out girlfriend still stoking Hyunjin’s cock only makes it that much easier for him to throw you over the edge. 

Seonghwa gives you a few moments to recover from your high before moving you to sit up on your knees again, hands moving to finish undressing you while Hyunjin somewhat reluctantly moves Bunny’s hand away to do the same to her. After you reach out to Bunny impeding Seonghwa’s actions for a moment and almost making him think you were bratty until he sees what’s going on. You stop her from trying to take Hyunjin’s shirt off and putting her hands down on her thighs.

“Did he give you permission, Bunny?” You question raising a brow, “You know better than to do something without being given permission, what do you need to do?”

She looks between you and Hyunjin with big pleading eyes trying to get away with not having to say anything as you lean into Seonghwa’s touch again, letting him remove your bra now and leave you entirely undressed. Seonghwa chuckling softly into your ear, while his hands knead your breasts watching to see what happens.

“Have you been soft on her?” He teases in a whisper into your ear.

You shrug, “Maybe a little bit, teasing just seems to be a more effective punishment for her though. She looks innocent, but she likes to try and be a brat to get punishment sometimes.”

“I’m sure she’s not the only one.” Seonghwa nips at your ear, smirking as he calls you out. 

Hyunjin watches Bunny as she still doesn’t speak, leaning back to slowly unbutton the top to buttons of his shirt, toying with the material before his hand drifts down over the material to his cock and stroking it softly.

“You won’t get anything without words Bunny.” Hyunjin tsks as he watches her squirm and whimper softly. Not giving into her that easily.

“Please I want to touch...to help...”Bunny speaks quietly, flushing brightly even if she could barely be heard. Hyunjin nods and moves his hand away to let her do it though, having no doubt any of you would be able to get her to be as loud as you wanted later, so why not let her save her voice for now.

“Alright Bunny that’s enough.” Seonghwa’s voice commands firmly from behind you, sending shivers down your spine. Bunny practically jumping as if touching Hyunjin burned, having just barely touched him now that she’d gotten his clothes off. Seonghwa patting your butt before motioning Bunny over, “Why don’t you go give Hyunjin some attention kitten?”

You and Bunny switch places, her going to undress Seonghwa now while you go to Hyunjin. Your hands running slowly down his chest, gaze flicking down before meeting his eyes again with a small smirk.

“What got you so worked up Hyunjin?” You tease fingers dancing over his thighs after your hands move down past his hips and not to where he wants them. Making him raise a brow at your antics.

“The sight of you and bunny falling apart like good little girls for us, that and the fact that she’s not bad with her hands.” Hyunjin licks his lips, not giving you the satisfying reaction that you were hoping for. Instead, he is confident in his position of power in the room, even if it wasn’t the top. 

“Oh Hyunjin, she had barely gotten started...don’t worry though. I’ll pick up where she left off for you.” You lean in to place a kiss to his neck, planning to move down to his dick until you hear quiet choking sounds from behind you. Looking back to find Seonghwa’s cock already down Bunny’s throat while his hand fists some of her hair to help guide her actions.

He raises a brow at you, “What? While you two were busy chit-chatting we wanted to have some fun...now why don’t you get on with it or we’ll never even get to the best part.” 

You snicker, rolling your eyes as your turn to face Hyunjin again. He picks up on the action however and grips your jaw, slapping your cheek enough to sting but nothing truly harsh, “Fucking brat rolling your eyes at him like that.”

You practically laugh at the way he seems fired up now, gripping your hair and guiding your mouth towards his own hard cock, “Don’t even think about being a smart ass either, there are other things your mouth should be occupied with right now.”

You don’t have time to retort with words, but the chuckle you let out before taking his tip holds enough attitude to further prod at Hyunjin, his eyes darkening further as he looks down into your eyes. You weren’t done yet though, you had something else you wanted to say to push Hyunjin. To see if you could get his dominant side to truly snap. You were saving it for just the right moment, however, waiting for his grip to ease up on you and for him to get a slightly glazed over and fucked out expression on his face. That moment of apparent weakness would present the perfect opportunity for you, so now you just had to make that moment happen.

That seems like something that would be coming to you fairly easy as you hollow your cheeks around him again, making his hand slip from your hair and his head fall back in a groan. You don’t take advantage of that just yet though, keeping up your actions for a few more moments just to be sure he’s turned to putty for you. Then pulling away and replacing your mouth with your hand as you move to whisper into his ear.

“Look at you acting like you’re all tough, but when it comes down to it you can’t even follow through can you? You fall apart for just a little pleasure, don’t you? Almost like you want to be a good boy for me.” You taunt, kissing the corner of his mouth just to tease more, “Is that it Hyunjin? You want to be a good boy for mommy?”

For a second you think you have him, the way he shudders under your gaze as his cheeks flush. Yet in a moment it’s over as quickly as you made it happen and Hyunjin is gripping your jaw and making you face the fire in his eyes. The monster of your own creation, just his expression letting you know that you were fucked. 

“Having one good girl and one bad one at the same time is making it really hard to treat you tonight...you just had to go and be a little brat didn’t you kitten?” Hyunjin raises a brow and you hear Seonghwa sigh softly before Bunny whines. Hyunjin refuses to let you turn and see what’s happening, however, his grip on you remains firm even as you hear shuffling behind you.

“Guess Hyunjin gets to punish you now hm?” Seonghwa’s voice sounds as Hyunjin’s grip drops to your hips, turning you to face away from him and instead at Seonghwa and Bunny. 

Seonghwa laid back, guiding Bunny to straddle his face looking at you and Hyunjin. His hands reach out to help Hyunjin lead you on your knees between Seonghwa’s legs before Hyunjin grips the back of your neck and moves your face closer to Seonghwa’s cock.

“Come on kitten, your bad behavior interrupted us before Bunny could finish. So now it’s your job.” Seonghwa informs you before his arms lock around Bunny’s thighs to hold her in place as he starts his task of eating her out. It is necessary as your girlfriend always seemed to struggle with staying still through the pleasure. 

You had your own task to focus on though, it seemed like you wouldn’t be let off that easy, however. As your lips wrapped around Seonghwa, Hyunjin drew a whine out of you by spanking you harder than you expected from the softer man. It didn’t stop with just one either...no, he seemed intent on letting you know just what your bratty behavior made him feel at the price of your ass. Not that you had any complaints about the reminders his hands would leave in their wake. It seemed to you that your relief came relatively quick when you felt Hyunjin slowly pushing it while pressing your head down to take all of Seonghwa with a moan. That was too good to be true of course when he stopped fully inside of you, staying still even after you’d had time to adjust to the way he stretched you out and filled you so well. Instead of bringing his hand crashing down on your ass again instead of fucking you the way you thought he would.

“The second you stop taking care of Seonghwa, I stop too.” Hyunjin warns you with a single hard thrust, “ That still doesn’t mean you’ll get what you want easy though.”

You concede, brain already turning to mush from the pleasure as he slowly builds a pace, watching closely for any slip-ups from you. When instead he sees you diligently sucking Seonghwa’s cock he doesn’t hold back any longer. His skilled hips provide you with hard, controlled thrusts. For someone who was letting themselves become unrestrained, he was awfully controlled. His thrusts never sloppy, even as pleasure coursed through his own body. Instead, they only seemed to throw more determined, chasing after as much pleasure as they could get for both of you. Craving it more and more, already addicted. Still, he had told you that it wouldn’t be that easy and he intended to keep his word. His hand meeting your ass again, not holding back even as he thrusts into you.

“I’m not stopping until Bunny cums, so if you can’t keep from cumming then you better be prepared to take everything. “ Hyunjin warns and when you hear a whimper you look up to notice that Seonghwa has pulled away from Bunny to smirk down at you, letting you know he was in no rush right now. Or perhaps his need to teach you a lesson just outweighed anything else right now. Whatever the case it was making Bunny more impatient as she tried to squirm in Seonghwa’s hold again. Only this time it was consciously and in an attempt to get more attention again. Making you smirk at the thought that this might just lead to her doom as well, the little Bunny who’d been obedient all night now breaking down into disobedience. Something that would only make this more fun and the thought helping ground you through the mind-numbing pleasure Hyunjin had been relentlessly providing. He had every intention of making you crumble though, hand snaking down rub tight little circles onto your clit without missing a beat. His other hand moves to wrap around your throat and pull you up away from Seonghwa’s cock and instead to look at Bunny who whines again as Seonghwa bites her thigh in warning.

“Look at her kitten, you’re teaching her to be disobedient. So now you should show her what little disobedient girls get, don’t you think?” Hyunjin’s breath is hot against your ear as his hand tightens slightly, the final push to throw you over the edge. 

Even as you come down from that high though he’s not finished with you. Instead, continue on as he releases your neck to let your mouth return its attention to Seonghwa’s cock. While Seonghwa’s attention returns to Bunny, putting up with the tad bit of brat behavior coming from her...for now. Though as she gets close again, around the time Hyunjin has urged you towards another orgasm as well Seonghwa gets fed up with her squirming and lack of manners. So he pulls away, releasing her thighs and tossing her back onto the bed. Hyunjin gets his cue and pulls out, moving you away from Seonghwa as well. 

“We’re finally teaching one brat to behave only for another one to start acting up.” Seonghwa sighs gripping Bunny’s jaw, “Where did our good little Bunny go, hm? Did you just get so desperate that you turned into a little fucking whore?”

Bunny flushes brightly giving a small shrug, “I get it from kitty.”

Seonghwa chuckles, looking over at you with Bunny still in his grasp, “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second. I guess we should be grateful to you though Bunny you did say something about a whole night full of fun when you made this proposal...so we have plenty of time to put you both in your place.”

Seonghwa pulls Bunny up and hands her over to Hyunjin before motioning you over to him. The two men moving you both onto all fours facing each other, but too far to reach one another. Communicating wordlessly through their eyes and thrusting into you both at the same time.

“So I hope you two are ready cause you have a long night ahead of you...don’t worry we’ll make it extra special.” Seonghwa’s smirk bleeds into his voice letting you hear it even if you're not the one able to see him right now.

“Besides it’ll be fun to see who holds out the longest now that both of you are misbehaving.” Hyunjin adds, “I wonder who will be the first to break...”

You smirk looking at Hyunjin and Bunny. Hyunjin raises a brow at your smug nature, while Bunny shakes her head slightly already knowing what was coming, prepared for your taunts to make another appearance.

“Guess you’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

Note: I’m not super proud of this, I felt it was a bit rushed and lacking in details. I wanted to get it out though, so be prepared for a rewrite at some point in the hopefully near future.

[jellybeanbeing]

The Raven Boys Quotes

I actually forgot how much I love this series and I recently have been looking through them again so here are some quotes that are my favorite and/or resonate with me.

“His heart hurt with the wanting of it, the hurt no less painful for being difficult to explain.” (20)

“What he meant by this was that he was worried that one day someone would fall on Ronan and cut themselves.” (38)

“It was somehow intimate in its complete lack of privacy.” (42)

“His code of honor left no room for infidelity, for casual relationships. It wasn’t that he didn’t condone them; he couldn’t understand them.” (49)

“Gansey could’ve had any and all of the friends that he wanted. Instead he had chosen the three of them, three guys who should’ve, for three different reasons, been friendless.” (50)

“Because it was never Ronan by himself, it was Ronan as part of the inseparable threesome: Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey, and Adam Parrish.” (53)

“There was something hungry about all of the boys.” (58)

“They wore matching raw expressions. Different wounds inflicted by the same weapon.” (73)

“It was only Gansey who seemed afraid that Ronan would learn to live in the dirt.” (75)

“What she wanted was to see something no one else could see or would see, and maybe that was asking for more magic than was in the world.” (79)

“More than anything, the journal wanted.” (84)

“It had been a long time ago, but also, it was no time at all.” (91)

“Sometimes, Gansey felt like his life was made up of a dozen hours that he could never forget.” (91) 

“Everyone dreamed, only some forgot.” (97)

“There was something about his stare that took something from the other person.” (115)

“So many things survived here without really living.” (133)

“Gansey could see his irises moving underneath the thin skin of his eyelids, a dreamer awake.” (135)

“Gansey. This was Gansey.” (140)

“They filled the hallway to overflowing, somehow the three of them, loud and male and so comfortable with one another that they allowed no one else to be comfortable with them.” (140)

“It also made her feel strangely jealous; she wanted something like that, a bond strong enough to transcend words.” (144)

“’I don’t have a brother, ma’am,’ Adam replied. But Blue saw his eyes dart to Gansey.” (145)

“The approval of someone like him, who clearly cared for no one, seemed like it would be worth more.” (146)

“Something about Gansey made her feel so strongly other that it was as if she had to guard her emotions against him.” (148)

“In this room with Maura and Calla and Persephone, time felt circular.” (149)

“But more than that, he missed the Ronan that had existed when Niall Lynch had still been alive.” (159)

“‘Do you not want me to come?’   Something stuck in Gansey’s chest. ‘I would take all of you anywhere with me.’” (163)

“And now Gansey was king here, and he didn’t even know how to use it.” (174)

“Adam wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all Gansey, but he was tired.” (186)

“‘If magic exists, I just want to see it. Just once.’ ‘You’re as bad as Gansey,’ Adam said, but he didn’t sound as if he thought that was very bad at all.” (193)

“‘Is this thing safe?’ ‘Safe as life.’” (195)

“It was some private joy that she managed to be in on by virtue of being in the helicopter and, just like that, Blue was excited, too.” (197)

“The journal and Gansey were clearly long-acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.” (205)

“You’re right, Ronan, it’s starting, something’s starting.” (207)

“It was suddenly difficult not to be excited by the idea of explaining it all to her.” (208)

“Gansey grinned at them both. He was hard to resist in this form: glowing with rows and rows of white teeth, a college brochure in the making.” (213)

“Everything was alive, alive. She breathed. ‘This is lovely.’ It was for Adam, not Gansey, but she saw Gansey glance over his shoulder at her.” (219)

“This was a wordless discussion, too, though she didn’t think either of the boys knew what they were trying to say.” (222)

“Gansey looked up to them, and she saw in his face that he loved this place. His bald expression held something new: not the raw delight of finding the ley line or the sly pleasure of teasing Blue. She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving something without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars.” (223)

“She felt like she was part of a dream this place was having, or it was a part of a dream of hers.” (225)

“Gansey had a sense of incredible rightness, then, with everyone assembled by the Pig... She was right like Ronan had been right, like Adam had been right, like Noah had been right.” (232)

“...and they were loud and triumphant and kings of Henrietta, because they’d found the ley line and because it was starting, it was starting.” (234)

“As Adam stared at his lap, penitent, he mused that there was something musical about Ronan when he swore, a careful and loving precision to the way he fit the words together, a black-painted poetry. It was far less hateful sounding than when he didn’t swear.” (238)

“Now, it was real. Magic existed, and Adam didn’t know how much that changed the world.” (241)

“This, Blue had discovered, was how Gansey got places—striding. Walking was for ordinary people.” (264)

“Ronan says that memories are like dreams.” (269)

“This was Gansey who had written the journal. The truth of it, the magic of it, possessed her.” (271)

“’You’re looking for a god. Didn’t you suspect that there was also a devil?’” (284)

“He wasn’t lost for words; he was observing.” (302)

“‘I want you to know, I was... more... when I was alive.’” (305)

“‘Coincidence,’ Ronan said, because it wasn’t.” (307)

“But it was him. He was giving everything that he’d worked for away.” (316)

“‘If you’d just asked,’ Gansey said, ‘I would’ve told you everything in there. I would’ve been happy to. It wasn’t a secret.’” (316)

“And his journal. He felt raw: the chronicle of his fiercest desires stripped from him by force.” (318)

“It’s got a lot of energy, so it’s like having you in the room all the time. But it’s like your boys. It’s quite loud.’ My boys! Blue thought, first in a huff, then flattered, then in a huff again.” (327)

“Above him, the stars were brutal and clear.” (338)

“Gansey was just a guy with a lot of stuff and a hole inside him that chewed away more of his heart every year.” (351)

“They were always walking away from him. But he never seemed able to walk away from them.” (351)

“He was full of so many wants, too many to prioritize, and so they all felt desperate.” (370)

“...to belong somewhere, to go home, to go home, to go home.” (370)

“Cabeswater was as literal as Ronan was.” (382)

“‘Onward and upward.’” (390)

[cocosstories]

Chris Evans One Shot

Hi, first of all i think i read al your writings today and they are perfect!! I saw that you take request and had an idea about chris evans and (younger) reader. Maybe one where they are doing an interview together or maybe one were they have to roast each other. Or maybe something where they read each others thirst tweets and they are kinda in love with each other. ( i know those are a lot ideas, just chose whatever en whenever you want to write them) 🤣♥️

I have a request if you’re taking them. Maybe you could write one about Chris Evans and reader doing an interview and it’s really light hearted and childish cuz we know how Chris is😂but just a lot of fluff really. Thank youuu, sending lots of love xx

The nerves were setting in as you and your costar Chris Evans waited to start your latest interview.

"Are you guys ready?"

You look behind the camera to the buzzfeed rep and nod. 

"Hi guys, I'm Chris Evans"

Chris starts when prompted.

"And I'm Y/F/N Y/L/N and we are reading thirst tweets."

You finish the intro with a nervous  smile. 

"Ladies first."

Chris says, handing you the bucket. 

'@yourtwittername is the whole reason I lost no nut November...I ain't mad tho'

You read out the first one, your heart pounding.

"He probably lost like 100 bucks Y/N!"

Chris jokes as he laughs. 

"Wow. My bad dude. Better luck next year?"

You shrug as you answer the tweet laughing, finally feeling more relaxed. 

'I would let Chris Evans rail me in the backseat of a car in a Walmart parking lot'

Chris reads his first tweet, turning bright red as he does. 

"Who wouldn't, am I right ladies?"

You say, winking to the camera.

"Jeez. Walmart? Can't even go to like a Target or something?"

Chris says.

'@yourtwittername is living her best life being surround by all these sexy daddies all the time.'

You giggle.

"It is a true blessing in my life. All of these sexy older men I get to spend time with. Sebastian, Mackie, Hemsworth. Oh and Evans is cute too I guess."

Chris fakes offence and you stick your tongue out at him.

During this press tour, you and Chris had gotten a lot closer and become pretty good friends. 

Despite the fact that you were in your early 20's you actually had a lot in common and felt comfortable with him.

To you it was all just playful banter and great chemistry but to anyone and everyone around you, it was pretty clear that the two of you were harboring some pretty strong feelings for each other.

'That is americas ass and I want to bite it.'

"That line is going to haunt me for the rest of my life."

Chris says with an exaggerated sigh. 

"I don't know dude, Mackie might take over that mantle. He and Sebastian have talked about how his ass is better than yours more than once."

The crew behind the camera laughs, remembering when Sebastian and Mackie had done their video and said exactly that. 

"Mackie can have the title. I'm ok with that."

Chris says with a chuckle. 

'I would let @yourtwittername suck chocolate off my toes.'

You scrunch your face in disgust as you read.

"Maybe so but, she wouldn't do it. No offense if that's your thing but just no."

You fake gag.

'I'd let Chris Evans snap my back like a glow stick.'

Chris stares at the paper, reading it over and over again as you laugh. 

"I think y'all fried his brain."

You turn towards him, rubbing his back.

"Chris, sweetie, the tweet can't hurt you."

He mocks a laugh as he crumples up the paper and tosses it behind him.

'If Chris Evans doesn't wife @yourtwittername up soon...imma have to do it.'

A chorus of 'awws' come from the crowd behind the camera as you and Chris look at each other, unsure of how to address this particular tweet.

"Should we tell them?"

You finally say with a sly smile on your face. 

"I don't know if they can handle it."

Chris replies, catching on. 

"Alright guys, you are all the first to know...Chris and I...."

You trail off for dramatic effect.

"Are just friends."

You both say together and laugh. 

'i want chris evans to rail me until i cant walk... is it to much to ask for'

"Jeez seems like your schedule is getting pretty full there Mr."

You laugh.

"Jealous?"

He says, side eyeing you. 

"Nah, I'm more of a Sebastian Stan kinda girl."

You playfully nudge him. 

"All the girls love Sebastian."

He replies, playing hurt. 

"It's those steel blue eyes. They let you know where home is."

You shrug, quoting your favorite Mackie line. 

"Well guys, that was the last one and thank God for that."

Chris says with a chuckle.

"Oh come on you big baby, those weren't that bad!"

You roll your eyes. 

"Yours weren't maybe."

The two of you playfully banter a little longer before waving goodbye to the camera and the interview ends. 

"You guys were great! Thanks for doing this."

The producer says as the set assistants take your mics off. 

"Thanks for having us."

You smile at her.

"I'm starving. Y/N, you wanna grab lunch?"

Chris asks as the two of you head out of the building.

"Yes please."

You eagerly answer before climbing into the waiting car, you and Chris heading off for food before the rest of your long day of press together.

[burntmcnuggies]

Hi! Can i request a hawks x fem! reader where hawks kind of has bird-like tendencies? She’s pretty good friends with him, and sometimes he whistles and stuff when she’s around (like a mating call/song) and one time she was talking to another pro hero and hawks gets jealous (but it’s his bird side so he can’t control it) and his wings puff up and stretch out as a show of dominance or something. And they get really bright too! The media reports the event and he confesses how he feels 🥺 tysm!

Of course! 🥺

I’m so happy to have actually gotten a request!! This is actually my... fourth Hawks story? And I feel I’m getting better at his personality! If any of you have constructive criticism I’m all ears! Ready to improve! I tend to over study characters before I write them so I have a good understand to deliver the best for everyone! :D

I wasn’t sure if you wanted smut or fluff... so I did both! A wholesome pure one and a spicy sexy one!

I really hope you enjoy this! ❤️

Both stories are almost exactly the same except for the ending, so in the end if you want smut, go to the NSFW one! 18+ only please! :)

➪ NSFW <3

Jealous Bird (Fluff)

Warnings: strong language, suggestive themes towards breeding, and that’s it!

“Mornin’ chicken wing. What’re we doin’ for breakfast? I paid last time so this is allll on you.” Hawks sent a playful wink towards you as he landed beside you from his previous place in the air, holding his hand up and rubbing his index and thumb together as a sign he wanted you to pay. You rolled your eyes and rose your hand, mocking him. “Don’t forget who spent hours doing YOUR paperwork because a certain birdbrain was too lazy to do it.” Hawks held up his hands in defeat and slumped over, sticking out his bottom lip, over exaggerating his facial expressions. He whined and let his wings droop. “C’mon just one more time? Pretty please with your favorite pretty bird on top?”

“Stop dragging your wings, you’re gonna get them dirty.” You scolded and pat his back, slightly feeling how tense his shoulders were. You were about to offer to give him a massage later, not wanting your friend to have to sleep tonight with stiff muscles until you noticed something. His wings were almost glowing a whole new shade now. Such a vibrant and beautiful color. It was then realizing how close you were that you could hear a faint cooing bubbling from his throat. “...? The fuck are you doing Hawks?” He looked over confused and tilted his head. You grumbled at his lack of knowing exactly what he was doing. “Do you even have complete control over your body? You don’t even realize you’re whistling and cooing like some pigeon.”

You completely missed the pissed off look that crossed his face at your comment. He plastered on a cheeky smile and put his hands behind his back, picking his wings off the ground and tucking them firmly behind his back. “Nah, sometimes my bird-side comes out, especially during spring. God I go fuckin’ crazy. Sometimes it’s early and i have to take a whole week off a work!” You looked up to a couple trees you both passed while you were walking to your usual breakfast place, KFC —Although you always argue you want to go somewhere else. It was late winter, very close to spring, about March. You never kept up with the date. “Why do you take a whole week off?”

“Animal Mutant types like me would understand. Just like Mirko! Haha, I’m sure she’s the worst right now bein’ it’s early March!” He laughed and put his hands out, his hands snaking into his pockets to firmly stick there once more. You pouted, wanting to know exactly what Hawks was talking about. You told Hawks everything, but he didn’t give you the same treatment. “I’ll just ask Mirko later then if you refuse to tell me.” Hawks quickly wagged his finger side to side in front of your face, his other hand being placed on his hip now. You were familiar with his body language and how much he loved using his hands. “Nah ah, chicken wing. You do that and she’s gonna pounce on you. You won’t see light for days!”

“Mirko has accidentally jumped on me before, it’s not like we haven’t sparred before! I can withstand some punches and kicks!” Hawks sulked again, his hands digging back into his pockets, displaying his annoyance that you weren’t listening to him. He just looked away and shrugged his shoulders back. “Just trust me, kiddo. It’d be for the best you didn’ see Mirko, especially at a time like this. I know how she feels.” You were starting to get irritated at his lack of response to your question, only dodging it and making you sit in suspense. Finally you gave up and decided to bring it back up later. “I’m just gonna stop asking, you’re obviously not gonna answer me are you?”

“Haha! Nope! You know me too well, (Y/N).” You both arrived at KFC, immediately greeted by the manager and many of Hawks’ fans who knew he came there a lot. Many asked for his autograph or a selfie, but he refused politely. “I’ll do some after I get some chicken! I’m starved!” Super fans offered to even pay for his food, to which he declined, saying that you were kind enough to have already offered to pay for his food. A total fat lie! He begged you to pay! You sent him a glare and proceeded just to order both your meals while Hawks spoke with his fans. “Well, guess I can start then! Who’s first?” After he saw you were paying and ordering, he began to sign autographs and take selfies that would no doubt be on social media in minutes.

“Man! I sure do have a lot of supportive and loyal fans! Must suck never bein’ noticed.” Hawks passively insulted your rank as a pro hero by taking a jab at your ranking. You were somewhere in the mid thirties. Not popular at all, especially in this part of Japan where Hawks was born. “At least I have fans who aren’t thirsty for me! People who don’t dream of kissing me so passionately and marrying me.” You smirked and rose your hands shrugging your shoulders, before hugging yourself. You bit your lip, closing your eyes and squirming with a dreamy smile, mocking his thirsty fan girls. “Oh Hawks! Please marry me... I love you so much. Kiss me... let’s start a family, and be the happiest couple ever~”

You didn’t notice the way his wings trembled and his face reddened, his avian eyes widening as he watched you speak in such a way. He shook it off quickly before he got out of control and leaned forward towards you smirking. “At least I have fans cravin’ me~ haven’t heard of anyone wantin’ your boring ass!” He gave a closed eye smile and brought his hands up to give you a big fat thumbs down. Your eye twitched and you remained silent, not having a comment. That was until you remembered a villain hitting on you not too long ago. “Well at least I’ve had a villain fawn over me! I can still remember it clearly! ‘Oh fuck, I would turn good to get a piece of that ass!’”

This time you noticed how his brows furrowed, and his wings fluffed up, almost as if he just had a whole shiver rake through his body. “When was this?” He asked, his head now resting in his right hand, staring intently. You thought about it for a minute, before taking a wild guess. “Ehh, about like a couple months ago.” This only put him in a more sour mood. You didn’t understand why he was acting so strange. Maybe it was what you talked about? Obviously you’d never talked about anything romantic with Hawks, but on the topic of thirty fans want for him, you wanted to make jokes since he was always mocking you and making sly insults. “Sorry... I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“Nah, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. Well... it kinda is.” He admitted afterwards and smirked at you teasingly as if you would already know it was your fault. You frowned, about to open your mouth again before they called your number to get your food. You sighed and stood from your seat, walking over to the counter and retrieving the food, however, you were stopped by a man. He was young, about nineteen or twenty, quite handsome. “Excuse me miss, this may sound really straightforward and all but, you’re really pretty, and I was wondering if I could get your number?” You blushed a bit and looked away. You were a bit weary, but decided anyways. “I-I don’t know... I guess so. You seem nice. It’s-“

“Hey man, you gotta hobby of stealin’ other people’s things?” A gloved band came in contact with your shoulder, and a large shadow cast over you and the man in front of you. The man gasped in amazement at seeing the number two pro hero standing before him, it would’ve been a better experience if Hawks wasn’t threatening him with his looks and smart-ass remarks. “Huh? Oh! S-Sorry I didn’t-“ Hawks rudely interrupted the man, his gloved hand squeezing harder. His smile was obviously forced, and his feathers were starting to fluff up every second that past he stood in front of this guy. “Eh don’t worry about, you didn’ know. Now that ya do, don’t come near her again, Kay?”

And in the blink of an eye, Hawks pulled you away and out of the fast food restaurant. He aggressively pulled out the food and shoved yours against your chest, unwrapping his quickly and munching on it. “What the hell Hawks?! That was a bit much! He was being nice! It’s not like we’re dating or anything...” You trailed off, watching his wings twitch and fluff. You had noticed his strange behavior for a couple days now. His feathers would fluff up every now and again —you had no idea why— especially near men. And he would always make these weird sounds whenever the two of you got close. “You should be thankin’ me chicken wing. I just saved you from a world of heartbreak.”

“That’s not your place to decide, Hawks. I don’t intervene when women ask for your phone number.” You crossed yours arms and turned your nose up at his childish behavior. He didn’t respond, finishing his breakfast and throwing away his trash in a nearby can. His hands slipping back into his pockets, displaying that he was closing himself off from you now. Of course, you began to become irritated at his lack of voice, but you decided to let it go and not pressure him further. You unwrapped your food and took a bite of the savory meal. “You’ve been acting weird lately ya know? I’m getting worried...”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Oh how you hated his emotionless voice, so bland and robotic, it honestly pained you. His eyes were sharp, quick to notice your saddened expression. Hawks sighed heavily and stuck his bottom lip out, wrapping his arm around your arms and pulling you close to him. “I’m one of the top five pros, you don’ gotta worry about me, chicken wing. Cheer up.” You smiled and shoved him off, only a bit happy his cocky and arrogant behavior had returned. The Hawks you knew and cherished. “You know, I hate you sometimes, but I can’t help but love you at the same time.”

“Who doesn’t love me? The sexiest bird-man around.” He smirked and gave you a flirtatious look, a small sound bubbling from his throat similar to a whistle. You returned his smirk with a teasing smile. You were almost immune to his flirty charm, key-word; almost. Hawks was definitely an attractive man. Those piercing eyes with dark markings around them, only making the color pop and glow. His messy hair swept back and disheveled. Let’s not forget about those bushy eyebrows of his, they almost look like feathers from his wings, only a beautiful blonde color just like his hair. You could probably do without his egotistical attitude and vulgar tongue, but that was still all part of his charm. “Move!”

You were surprised by Hawks suddenly grabbing you and jerking you out of the way of an attack from a villain. You were right there in his chest, feeling his warmth, hearing the harsh thumping of his heart at the thought of almost losing you. Before he had a chance to say what he wanted. “Well there goes our leisurely patrol. And more paper work on our desks.” Hawks grunted in annoyance and took to the air. You finally regained your composure and got into your fighting stance. “Ready to kick some ass Hawks?! Whoever lands the final blow is treated to lunch!”

“Heh, you don’t stand a chance! Show me whatcha got!”

—

“Thanks Edgeshot... I totally owe you one.” You scratched the back of your neck with an awkward smile as you stood in front of the current number four hero. While Hawks was on the assault, eager to show off and boost his already high ego, you tried to get a sneak attack in, but the villain noticed you. They were about to attack you, before Edgeshot came and got you out of the way. Hawks didn’t take this too well. He became angry immediately and finished off the villain in a matter of seconds. “No thanks necessary, (H/N). I was just doing my job.” You hated being in debt to someone more than anything, so you quickly threw out an offer.

“Please! Let me take you out for drinks! Honestly! I’ve gotta do something! I-“ Suddenly a large shadow cast over you for the second time that day. You turned around and shrunk down noticing Hawks’ wings spread wide, fluffed to the brim and shaking in anger and jealousy. His face was red and his eyes were narrowed at Edgeshot. He was angry at himself for not being able to protect you himself, and at Edgeshot for rescuing you and holding you close. That was supposed to be him. “H-Hawks? What’s wron-“ Edgeshot was the one who answered your main question earlier before Hawks could even get another word out. The answer shocked you to your core, finally understanding why he was acting so weird.

“He’s showing his dominance, and in a public place no less, how careless.” You looked at the ninja hero confused before you turned your attention back to Hawks. Dominance? His wings were such a beautiful vibrant color now. A shade of red you’d never seen before on him. A sudden flash captured your eyes, taking your attention away from his beautiful wings. The media was eating this up. Soon it would reach the Hero Public Safety Commission and the president would not like this one bit. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). But I’m impatient, I can’t wait any longer.” Your eyes widened as your attention was fully back on Hawks now. You opened your mouth about to ask what he meant, but something was preventing you from doing so.

Hawks’ lips were firmly placed upon your own, his bright red rings wrapping around the both of you to shield you from any watchful eyes wanting to take a peek at you. His lips were soft, his hands finding themselves on your waist, pulling you flush against his body. You were shocked, your eyes wide, heart hammering wildly out of your chest at the sudden action. Slowly, you began to kiss him back, falling victim to his charm and passionate ways. He was quickly heating up the kiss, but you placed your hands on his chest firmly, pushing him away just enough to separate your lips. He was chasing your lips, desperate to get another kiss. You sent him a silencing glare and he smiled nervously, unsure of what you were thinking.

“Uh... oops?”

——

“Breaking News! Pro-Hero Hawks was seen acting quite strange this morning. We have multiple eye witness accounts saying his behavior was aggressive in sorts. Many people claim after the latest villain attack, Hawks confronted Pro-Hero Edgeshot! What an intimidating display by one of the most top ranked heroes! We’re not sure on the full details, stay tuned for more on the story later.” The whole time the video played the camera was zoomed in on Hawks. His vibrant wings spread dominantly, visibly fluffed and shaken up. It was incredibly lucky they didn’t catch you both kissing —even though his wings were covering you both. You slid your phone in your pocket and sighed heavily, patiently waiting outside the presidents door, ready to see Hawks and talk to him about what had happened.

You attempted to talk to Mirko but... You couldn’t really understand what she was talking about, especially through all the panting. ‘Oh baby please, come to my place, I promise we’ll have fun okay? Forget about that birdbrain! Come to me. We can eat! Have dessert first and then a full course meal! And another, and another, a-and another~! Until I’m full and satisfied! Please!’ You sadly had to decline. Being treated to multiple full course meals and desserts was nice and all, but you really needed to talk to Hawks. A click of the door was heard, and you brought yourself off the hard painted walls to see Hawks walking out with a pout and a frown. He hated being scolded, he was a grown ass man with hormones. Of course he was going to lose it eventually.

“H-Hawks...!”

He immediately jerked his head up hearing his name, plastering on a cheeky smile before coming up to you. “What’s up chicken wing, you came to check on me huh?” Sometimes you wanted to slap the smugness out of him, but sadly, it would probably grow knowing him. You honestly nodded and rose your hand to tell him to follow you. He did as you told quietly, his hands in his pockets, unsure of what you were even going to say. His feathers could faintly sense your thundering heart, how it hammered against your rib cage every step you took towards the door. “It’s... about what happened this morning.”

“...I see.” It was unusual for him to be so speechless in a conversation. He loved to talk. You rubbed your arm sheepishly and made your way out the doors with him. You walked for a bit, until you reached the agency you worked at. Well, this was it. “Hawks I...” you began, but couldn’t bring yourself to confess to him. You’d denied your feelings for years, pushing them aside to hold onto your friendship. You didn’t think you were good enough for him. He needed someone stronger, someone better. “Ah... never mind, I forgot what I was going to say. See you to-“ You were silenced once his gloved hands found your arms softly, and his lips met yours once again to share in a passionate kiss. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch, his warm comforting touch, never wanting to leave.

“Im... sorry for the way I acted today.” He spoke slowly, expression the sincerity behind his apology. Your eyes widened watching Hawks get down on one knee and begin to kiss your knuckles one by one. “I couldn’t help myself... seein’ you... with other guys, just thinkin’ about it makes my blood boil...” He stands back up again, spreading his large wings, their vibrant color remained, accompanied by soft whistling and cooing from your winged friend. His hand grabbed your chin, running his thumb gently over your bottom lip. “I’ve been tryin’ to impress you for weeks... drove out all my competition, so in the end you’d only pick me.”

It was all starting to make sense now.

“Spring is mating season for birds like me... so everything I’ve been doin’ is to get you to choose me to be your mate. I want you to be my dove. I want you to be mine.” Everything finally connected now. Even why Mirko sounded so weird on the phone earlier when you called to ask about what was happening. Your face flushed in embarrassment at this newfound revelation. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner... I... feel horrible for what I said earlier! Your jealous behavior... your weird noise making meant to impress me but I insulted it!” Hawks covered his mouth and started to laugh. You glared at him, trying to be serious and apologize the right way. And he was just sitting there laughing at you! “Oh man, sorry chicken wing, but I insult you, all the fuckin’ time, and its fun. Watchin’ you get all flustered and angry, I live for it. You shouldn’ feel bad at all to get a couple jabs at me.”

“Shut up you dumbass. Let me speak...” A pout spread across his face and he stared intensely at you, his beautiful golden eyes shaking you up to your core. You rubbed your arm a bit embarrassed, and averted your gaze to the ground. “Considering... everything you’ve just told me. I need to clarify and face my feelings.” His eyes widened and his mouth hung slightly agape, his wings flapping gently in anxiousness. You smiled and pulled him close by the collar of his jacket, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling away quickly not get him riled up again. “It’s safe to say I only see you, Hawks. And you don’t have to worry about me picking anyone else. You’re my pretty bird. You always have been.”

He sighed in relief and smirked smugly. “I knew you were in love with me, dove. I’m just too irresistible, even for you~”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

[gubler-me-up]

Sky’s the Limit

Request: Hi! This is oddly specific so no worries if you don’t do it but I was wondering if you could do a Spencer X y/n where he (and the team) find out that Y/N has gymnastics training or trapeze training or aerial silk training and Spencer is just like 🤩 Thanks! Love your writing!!

A/N: Thanks for the request, anon! I’m not gonna front and say this one wasn’t a challenge to think of a good concept for. All I knew is I wanted to make it about aerial silk because it’s such an amazing talent. To my surprise, this turned out better than I expected and I hope you really enjoy it! Btw do you do gymnastics, trapeze and/or aerial silk? If so, kudos to you! (Btw I left the song choice up in the air, but while I was writing I was listening to The Weeknd - Loft Music)

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader

Category: Fluff

Content warning: None

Word count: 2.8k

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

“I know it’s the weekend and all, but you’re sure in a rush, Y/N,” Morgan remarked.

You were running late for your dress rehearsal for your aerial silk performance at an open talent show taking place at National Theatre DC. You had done aerial silk dancing for years as a hobby. It was hard keeping up with it while working at the BAU, but an old instructor of yours contacted you about the opportunity. You thought it was a great chance to finally display your hobby to the masses.

“I’m running late for an appointment,” you said as you grabbed your bag.

“Oh? A Friday night “appointment” huh? Who’s the lucky guy?” Morgan asked.

You chuckled. “Not that sort of appointment, player.”

“Damn, I thought a certain someone finally made a move on you,” he said.

You were going to ignore his comment and be on your way, but you were curious about what he just said. You raised an eyebrow with a mischievous smile on your face. You went up to his desk and sat on the edge of it.

“Certain someone?” You asked.

He chuckled. “Oh yes, a certain someone. Matter of fact here he comes now.”

Morgan looked over your shoulder, so you followed his gaze. You saw Spencer walking up to you guys with a smile as he nervously latched his right hand onto his satchel strap. You didn’t think he liked you more than a friend, but according to Morgan it seemed as if you were missing something. So much for being a profiler.

“Hey, Y/N. Are you busy this weekend? I know you love classic French Noir films and they’re playing Pépé Le Moko tomorrow night, so I was wondering if you wanted to go watch it together,” Spencer asked.

You looked at him surprised before looking back at Morgan. He gave you his favourite expression: I told you so. You looked back at Spencer. He had an eager, glowing smile on his face. You were close to saying yes to him just by his enthusiasm.

You sighed. “I can’t this Saturday, Spence. I have a commitment I already have. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I should have asked you earlier,” he said.

“Yes, you should have,” Morgan chimed in.

Spencer gave Morgan a strong glare as he was getting ready to say something. Before you were put in-between another fight of theirs, you grabbed onto Spencer’s upper arm and gently squeezed. You were kind of surprised to feel a little muscle on him.

“Spence, have you been working out?” You asked.

He blushed. “Not really by choice. Morgan’s been forcing me to join him on his gym sessions.”

You looked over at Morgan. “You’re forcing Spence to work out?”

He shrugged and put on a sly smirk. “What can I say? I thought we should all gain as much upper body strength as you have, Y/N.”

“I don’t have any upper body strength,” you said.

Spencer grabbed your right bicep and gently squeezed it. You looked at him as he had his thinking face on. He soon noticed you looking at him which led him to let go of your arm and awkwardly clear his throat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that. I was just admiring your bicep form. It’s well developed, even more than Morgan’s,” he said.

You giggled. “I don’t think my little muscles can compare to Morgan’s.”

“This time the kid might have a point. You have some serious bicep action on you. What’s your secret?” Morgan asked.

You hadn’t exactly told anyone on the team about your aerial silk training. You kind of liked keeping this certain talent hidden from the rest of the team. You were also nervous if you had them watch it would be the one time you’d mess up and break your arm. It was silly for you to think the worst would happen if your friends saw you perform since they were your safety net.

“I’ll tell you two another time, but for now I’m running late. See you two Monday,” you said as you picked up your bag.

“Have a great weekend, Y/N,” Spencer said.

You turned around and waved. “You too. Tell me how the movie is on Monday.”

“Will do,” he said.

You turned back around to make your way out of the bullpen. From behind you could hear the clacking of heels running towards you. You knew exactly who it was before you turned around.

“Y/N, hold on,” you heard Garcia say.

You looked at your watch. It was nearly six o’clock and you weren’t even out in the parking lot yet. You turned around and put up your wrist to show Garcia.

“Pen, I have to go,” you said.

“But I was wondering if you wanted to go-“

“Really, Pen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

You rushed towards the elevator before she could chase after you. You didn’t want to be any later than you were already running. Whatever she had to tell you she would just text or call you about it if it was important.  

Your dress rehearsal went well and you were proud of your performance. You thought your choice of song added to the performance immensely. You felt as if you were dancing on air and you didn’t even think of all of your muscles having to work on overdrive to make sure you didn’t fall. You didn’t even think you worked this hard to take down an unsub.

You were on your way to the change room to get dressed and go get something to eat. You were starving since you didn’t have any time to stop and get food. Your food would have to wait a little while longer since you heard your instructor call out your name. You turned around to see him walking up to you.

“What’s up, Sam?” You asked.

“Well, I noticed you hadn’t asked for tickets for your guests. There are a few extra tickets if you have anyone to give them to,” he said.

You shook your head. “Thanks, Sam, but I don’t have anyone to give them to.”

He raised a questionable eyebrow. “Really? No one from your job? No friends you want to invite? Family?”

“My family lives in another state and so do most of my friends and the rest are busy this weekend. Thanks for looking out though,” you said before turning around.

“How about your coworkers?” He asked.

“They’re busy,” you said as you started walking away.

“Well, can you at least think about inviting some people? It would be nice if people in your circle could see how talented you are,” he said.

You stopped walking and turned around to look at him. He stared at you with such a proud expression on and you couldn’t help giving in to him. All he wanted was the best for you because he thought you were the best.

You stuck out your hand. “Give me the tickets.”

His face lit up as he reached into his pockets and pulled out the extra tickets. There were only two extra tickets. As you took them from him, you pondered on who you would end up inviting.

“Can’t wait for your performance tomorrow, Y/N. I’m sure your friends will enjoy it,” he said.

You smiled. “They sure will.”

With that little exchange over and done with, you went to the change room to get ready to go enjoy the rest of your night. It was the perfect night to grab some pizza, lose yourself in the universe of YouTube and fall asleep on your couch. What you really couldn’t wait for was relaxing all your muscles in a hot bath.

As you changed, you thought about the two extra tickets. It would be nice to have someone or in your case two people from the team to come by and watch you. In your head though you couldn’t get over this worry of embarrassing yourself in front of them. It was whatever to mess up in front of people you didn’t know, but in front of people you saw nearly every day was nerve-racking.

You took out your phone from your bag and went to your most recent text messages. You didn’t see a text from Garcia which meant whatever she had to ask you wasn’t that important or she found someone else to fill your spot. Either way you were glad she didn’t message you. You wouldn’t be able to bear her sad, puppy look if you rejected her invitation to any sort of outing.

You would ask Garcia to come but she seemed as if she had other plans in mind. There was JJ or Emily you could ask but JJ was busy on the weekends being a mom and Emily was always busy doing kid-free activities. Inviting Hotch or Rossi would be cute because they were like father figures to you, but at the same time you kind of liked them to be father figures from afar. Morgan probably wouldn’t shut up about your strength for weeks and encourage you to tackle more unsubs, so he was out of the question.

You opened your text conversation with Spencer. He liked artistic performances and according to Morgan he also liked you. It would be the perfect opportunity for you two to bond beyond work. Maybe you’d even take him out for ice cream after to celebrate. You’d have to make sure he’d take his Lactaid first though to make his ice cream experience enjoyable.

You started to type out the question you were dreading to ask anyone on your team. I’m performing an aerial silk routine. Interested in coming? I have extra tickets. You stared at it for a long while before erasing the whole thing and stuffing your phone back in your bag. You couldn’t gain the courage to do it and you knew that. You just took the extra tickets so Sam would stop begging you to bring people to the show.

In due time you would let the team know about your hidden talent, but your first public performance wasn’t the best time to debut it. You’d probably give the tickets to some people on the street and hope they would attend. You picked up your coat and bag to start your journey home. You had a long night of pizza, baths and nerves to overcome.

You paced back and forth as you waited for the act before you to finish. You were closing the show, so your adrenaline was pumping hard. The pressure you felt to end the show with a bang was unreal. You just wanted to represent the artistry of aerial silk as best as you could.

“Ready for your big break?” You heard Sam say from behind you.

You turned around to look at him. “Born ready.”

He chuckled. “With all that pacing you’re doing, it’s hard to believe that statement.”

“Oh, so you’re a profiler now too huh?”

“Not a chance. I’ll leave all that psychological horror to you, but I do know you’re nervous about your performance. I’m here to tell you you shouldn’t be, you’re amazing at what you do.”

You smiled. “I guess so.”

“Well, I know so. Especially with your friends in the crowd, you’ll feel even more confident.”

You were silent. He looked at you confused and then in shock. You quickly looked away from him before he could inquire about the tickets. It was too late for that plan though.

“You didn’t invite your friends? What did you do with the tickets?” He asked.

“Gave it to this lovely couple on my way home yesterday. Rachel and Keith are sitting in the front row as we speak,” you said.

“You what? Y/N,” he said in frustration.

“Do you hear that? I think I’m up next,” you said as you scurried on stage.

You walked to the centre of the stage and let your silks drop down to your sides. The crowd was cheering already which made you feel good inside. As you looked out into the crowd you could see Rachel and Keith, who were ecstatic to be there. You smiled as you continue to scan the audience with your eyes.

Your eyes widened when you saw a curly-haired man along with two blonde women, a dark-haired woman, a dark-haired man, an older man and a bald man. You squinted your eyes just to make sure you weren’t seeing things from the bright lights messing with your sight. It was true though, your whole team was there.

Before you could even process anything, the music started to play which meant your routine had to start as well. You decided it was time to just let it happen. Obviously some greater power in the universe decided to bring your fears to the light and have you overcome them.

You grabbed onto your silks and started to gracefully entangle yourself in them. You made sure your feet weren’t too loose and your hands were holding onto the silks tightly. You swung, you flipped and you dropped in one swift motion.

The cheer from the crowd was unbelievable. You had to admit it was even better knowing the team was cheering along with them. Sam might have been onto something when he told you the satisfaction of hearing the crowd cheer for you was worth it. All the nerves, all the rehearsing, all the sore muscles. He was right.

Every move you did, you made sure it was done flawlessly. You felt on top of the world as if you were floating in the clouds. Nothing was on your mind besides the lyrics floating in your head as you did your whole routine.  In no time you were done your routine and found yourself not wanting it to end. The only thing keeping you alive in the bittersweet moment was the crowd giving you a standing ovation. You even heard Garcia scream at the top of her longs with praise.

You bowed and then the rest of the performers came out on stage to take their bows. The crowd kept getting louder to the point where you couldn’t even feel your adrenaline pumping heart anymore. It felt amazing to drown the sound out with praise and love from everyone. Especially your supportive team.

After you got changed, you went out to greet the team as they stayed around after to wait for you. You waved at them with a huge, goofy smile on your face. They all started clapping for you again with big smiles on themselves.

“Glad you guys liked it. How did you even decide to come here?” You asked.

“Well, little speed boat, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to this talent show on Saturday, but you left so fast I didn’t have the chance to. I then proceeded to get everyone on board with me to come see the show and to our very surprise you were on the pamphlet,” Garcia explained.

You blushed. “Well, thanks for coincidentally coming out to watch.”

“Why didn’t you tell us about this before? We would have definitely come,” JJ said.

You shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I was just nervous about messing up in front of you guys. I’ve never performed in front of an audience before, so everything was very high risk for me tonight.”

“Well, you pulled it off. Congratulations,” Hotch said.

“Thanks so much, sir,” you said.

“You did so great tonight, Y/N. Reid over here was so starstruck that I think he was drooling a little,” Morgan said as he playfully punched the side of Spencer’s face.

Spencer sighed in frustration. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. I was not drooling, but I was definitely pleasantly surprised by your act.”

“He was totally drooling,” Emily said.

“Jaw on the floor,” Garcia said.

“Eyes wide in amazement,” Morgan said.

You smiled as they just kept describing how Spencer looked while you were on stage. You looked over at Spencer. His face was practically red, but he tried his best to hide it with his hand.

“Okay, kids, that’s enough bickering for the night. Dinner’s on me. I’m feeling for Italian,” Rossi interrupted.

“You’re always feeling for Italian,” Spencer said.

“I’m trying to help you get out of this situation and you’re coming for me?” Rossi said.

Spencer instantly looked away as if nothing ever left his mouth. Everyone else laughed as they followed Rossi out of the theatre. You and Spencer trailed along behind everyone. You grabbed his bicep again. Not to squeeze it, but to hold it close to you. He noticed and looked at you with his face still red.

“You know, even though Garcia, Morgan and Emily’s claims were exaggerated, I thought you were incredible tonight,” Spencer said.

You looked up at him and smiled. “I’m glad you think so. Seriously though, were you as starstruck as they claimed? Even a little?”

He smiled. “Maybe just a little.”

You giggled. “I’ll make sure to set up a VIP for you the next time I perform.”

He chuckled. “I’d love that.”

—–

MASTERLIST