#i succeeded at that a couple of times but it was not enough

[adore-gregor]

ugh there it goes

[retributory]

when you think about it clive and flora are actually perfect narrative foils on complete accident. like what's up with that. professor layton and the completely imagined literary devices

[headphonemouse]

Ch. 427

Shin Yoosung pulling out premature grey hair on my head tackled the boy immediately.

I can't believe I forgot about kdj's premature grey hairs. Post epilogue dokjoong bald4bald

[snaileer]

I’m a Size Medium, Thanks.

Danny is irritated. No actually he is beyond irritated. He is annoyed, he is frustrated, he is…. He’s really fricking irritated and can’t be bothered to remember any more of Jazz’s SAT words.

He continues his glare out the window as he searches for his straw with his mouth.

He just- where is it- thinks it’s a stupid fricking-stupid ass milkshake-he shouldn’t have to basically-gah! Danny snaps his head down to find his suddenly missing straw, only to successfully poke it directly into his eye.

“Ow! Fricken-“ He groans, throwing his head back, and putting his hands to his face, “Mother-tucker, Holy Taming of A Shrew!” He pounds his free hand not cradling his eye on the table, trying not to make more of a scene. Of course, this utterly fails because it immediately tips over his milkshake glass with a clatter as it spills onto his pants, making him jump up with enough force to knock the table over and drop the milkshake glass the rest of the way to the floor.

Danny stares at it with blurry vision and a watery eye. He sighs, “At least-“

The glass shatters.

Danny sighs again, deeper. “Of course.”

He looks up at the restaurant around him. Noticing the many, many people staring at him.

Wonderful.

Danny grimaces, “Sorry, I so didn’t mean for that to happen, uh-“ Danny reaches to straighten the table, fumbling for a second before it stands upright, he steps away from it, “If there’s any way I can help or.. like fix it. I can pay for the cup..” a server comes over to him, “if you want..?”

The server’s dead eyes don’t waver as they silently place a wet floor sign over the spilled milkshake.

“Thanks.”

“Uh huh.”

The server walks away, leaving Danny to sigh all on his own. He leans over to grab his backpack from the booth, checking it over for milkshake before slinging it on his back, thankfully clean.

He makes it one step forward before he feels the floor go out from under him. Ah gravity. His greatest enemy. This is karma for all those times he’s ignored it, isn’t it?

The wind is knocked out of him when his back slams to the floor, cushioned by the dulcet sounds of his bag crunching against broken glass.

He looks up at the wet floor sign.

The man on the yellow plastic mocks him.

Danny sighs.

He curses his stupid luck.

He curses this stupid city.

Then he curses himself because he knows any of this stupid city’s curses end up affecting him anyways.

Danny gets to his feet, ignoring the feeling of milkshake on his hands and his… everywhere.

He trudges out of the diner without looking back. At least he’d already paid for it.

He grimaces at the milkshake handprint on the door, trying to wipe it away with his shirt and only succeeding in making it worse.

Danny catches the eyes of the server inside, staring at him, eyes progressively more annoyed.

Danny puts his hands up in surrender and backs away.

Directly into a person. Only his milkshake covered self prevents him from being hit with anything more than the man’s scathing glare.

He puts his hands back up and moves away to dodge everybody else on the sidewalk. Along with the occasional ghost. Visible only to him of course.

By the time he has managed to escape the sidewalks into an alley, he is certain there is a trail of slightly sticky businessmen behind him.

Danny crouches to swing his backpack down in front of him and take stock. Okay, he could put his sweatshirt on over it… but it would also get ruined… damn it.

Danny looks around, checking every inch of the alley for cameras and then backing himself into a corner just to be safe. The flicker of intangibility is barely noticeable except for the wet squelch of milkshake remnants dropping to the alley floor. Lovely.

And of course, the flash of every single Gotham ghost in the area becoming visible and almost tangible for a split second. Also… lovely. There’s a couple startled shouts on the street.

Maybe an alleyway was not the best place for that.

Danny slides his sweatshirt on over his shirt to at least pretend like he was covering a mess and then shimmies out of the alley while trying to make as little contact with ghosts as possible.

He’s almost completely certain he looks crazy as all get out if the stare he gets from a passerby means anything.

Of course… now he’s left glaring across the street again.

He can feel the Infini-Map burning a hole in his backpack. It said this was the next place a natural portal would open and get him back home.

It just didn’t say… when that portal would open.

But of course, it’ll be right in the middle of somebody’s store. Usually not an issue. Except again, this stupid city’s curses are attracted to his energy, so of course the store couldn’t be literally ANYTHING ELSE!

Danny glares at the stupid fricking sign and the stupid predictable pun and the stupid neon hand in the front window waving at him.

‘The Claire Witch Project: psychic, medium, and Claire-voyant’

Danny is on day three of simultaneously avoiding the entire building while remaining close enough he can be there when the portal forms.

He is dirty, tired, and running out of money. In short, Danny is starting to lose hope on this endeavor.

The worst part?

He has the perfect solution.

There’s a pathetic little piece of printer paper taped to the inside of the window.

‘Help wanted’

When he’d first gotten here, Danny had followed the infini-map all the way to this horrific city, seen the sign, and turned a quick 180. He’d rather die again thanks.

He’d smacked into two billboards just coming into the city, and there was literally no stars, why would he want to stay here till the portal opened when he could just find another?

Except.. Danny’s eye twitches dangerously as he thinks back on it- except there wasn’t another portal. This was it. For the foreseeable future, he either caught this portal or was stranded for whoever knows how much longer.

Danny sighs again and dreads his continued existence. He looks both ways on the street, takes a step forward, nearly gets run over, steps back, and turns for the nearest crosswalk.

Fine. He could follow rules if it meant increasing his chances of leaving.

He tries to hold in the sigh this time, he really does, he swears.

Not the one before he opens the shop door though, that sigh deserved freedom from his trials. It joins the myriad of whispy translucent shades lingering in the store. Because of course there was just enough spiritual energy in here for them to be visible to him.

“Hey there!” A girl in loose fitting colorful clothing appears from behind a corner, “I’m Claire! How can I help your life journey today?” He can see the way her bulky crystal hair accessories sway with her movements. What was he getting into here again?

Danny tries to ignore the incense shoving itself up his nose as he speaks, “Hey, I was…” He was really doing this huh? “Hoping that the help wanted position is still available?”

The girl looks him over as she moves to the back of the checkout counter. The clear observation makes him nervous, and he takes his hands out of his pockets to try and look marginally more… candidate-able.

“You have experience?”

“Sure d-“ He wants to throw up in his own mouth, ancients this is so cringe, just let him die, “Sure do!” He says through choked back vomit and false cheer, “I’m a…” -barf- “I’m a medium.”

“Oh don���t worry about that, you don’t need a uniform, I don’t need your size silly!”

Danny blinks. What? Also. What?

“Wait-I’m hired?”

Claire pauses from getting something from under the counter, “Didn’t I already say that?”

“Uh…” Danny’s eyes dart around the shop, “No?”

“Oh well, you are, you have the right vibes, don’t worry,” she slides a few papers onto the glass counter, and Danny is abruptly, horrifically reminded he has no legal documents to speak of here. He thinks. He hasn’t actually checked.

Crap.

“Of course, most of my clients pay in cash, so I’ll pay you in cash too just to make it easier, and any crystal sales I’ll just add to it. Sound good?”

“Sure?” Oh no, is this gonna be Danny’s first real job? “But I don’t know anything about crystals. I have a goth friend but she’s not into that stuff.”

Claire waves his comment away, “Oh no worries, I can leave a packet.”

Danny nods, “Thank- wait, sorry. Leave?”

Claire laughs, pulling out a bag from behind her counter, “Yes I leave for a trip in two days. Family things you know,”

Danny feels like his brain is being scrambled, “Oh, what, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Claire looks at him, blinking wide, “What? Why would anything have happened?”

“Because… you said, you were leaving for-“

“Just don’t want to get caught in a bad position, you know how it is.”

Some of the shades stir in the air, their misty movements twitching with agitation enough to draw his eye for a second.

“Right. Well I’m glad I came when I did then,” Danny says, because he still doesn’t want to be rude.

Claire smiles at him.

Danny pats his hands against his sides awkwardly, trying not to look up at the movement of the shades intertwined with incense smoke at the ceiling.

There’s a little jingle behind him, which he belatedly realizes is the door when Claire moves to greet them before he can even turn around.

“Ms. Jives! Wonderful to see you! How’s the goldfish?”

Ms. Jives turns out to be a slightly older woman, maybe early seventies with a cane but she looks good. The coffee brown hair is almost certainly a dye job but it frames her wrinkled face well.

“Oh Jim is lovely dear, much better this way, I bought him a new plant just the other day, he just loves it.”

“Good, here for your reading right?”

“I am! But you can finish up with your customer first if you need,” Ms. Jives says. Claire waves her concern away.

“No need, this is Danny, I just hired him, he has a similar mystical connection.”

“Oh that’s lovely,” Ms. Jives says as she passes by him, “Would you like to come with dear? Claire is going to do a reading for me.”

Danny grimaces, “Sure.”

In the end, by the time Ms. Jives makes it slowly to the back room, Danny is trying to think of where he’s gonna sleep tonight. He mostly zones out when Claire dims the lights and starts talking nonsense.

All he heard was “something something card, something something magician something reversed something something balance something something chihuahua.”

Ok, maybe he wasn’t listening. But he was trying to focus on not staring at the movement of the shades, and the incense was mega strong and Claire had some weird ass music playing. He’s almost certain she’s faking everything. Down to the atrociously bright bead earrings.

Danny sags when she finishes, all too happy to leave the weird little curtain covered room.

He stands in the front awkwardly while Ms. Jives pays, twiddling with the various crystals and trying to figure which ones are actually y’know.. mystical or whatever.

Answer? Surprisingly most of them. That he could tell, at least, but it’s not like he actually knows how to sense that out on purpose. He’s pretty sure a couple of the heart shaped rose quartzes are complete duds but what does he care.

He’s thoroughly bored by the time Claire calls him back over. Apparently to tell him that he’ll do a reading tomorrow.

“Tomorrow?!” Danny blurts, “Don’t you want to like- I don’t know, make sure I can- or like.. I don’t know, but tomorrow?”

Claire just smiles at him, “I believe you can handle it, trust me.”

‘Trust you? Lady, I just met you and you’ve been nothing but crazy the whole time!’ Danny wants to say, instead, he keeps his mouth shut and nods with what he’s sure is fear in his eyes.

Then she’s pressing something into his hands and when he looks down it’s a key. A key. There’s no way-

“So be here 9am sharp, Danny! You can open up and I’ll come in later!” Claire starts pushing him towards the door, “And Mr. Wayne should be waiting for you when you get here!”

Danny turns around to catch himself in the doorframe, “Mr who will be what now!? Wait, Ms. Claire, Ma’am- why-!” He stops to lower his volume and ask politely, “Why am I doing this? You don’t even know me,” Danny says, one leg still in the store.

Claire smiles, “Because the universe told me to silly! See you tomorrow! Here’s my number!” Then she slaps a sticky note to his chest with enough finality that Danny takes a step back. The door closes with a click and ring of the bell inside.

Danny stares at the door with his eye twitching for at least a minute.

What the hell did ‘the universe told me to’ even mean, you kook!?

Danny sighs and looks down at the sticky note, quickly inputting the number in his phone before something happens to it.

He’s barely hit save when he finally steps away from the shop front and…. is immediately drenched to the bone.

Because apparently it’d been pouring rain and he simply hadn’t noticed from under the awning.

He watches as blue ink slides off the sticky note in little sad face streaks.

Danny sighs.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hiiii. I hope you are well. I would like to request a Cregan Stark x reader where they’re newlyweds and Cregan is doing everything he can to get reader to like him as she barely talks to him and keeps to herself because her mother basically told her to not expect him to be a kind gentle husband like the ones she’s read in books. The two slowly grow close once reader sees the effort Cregan has been putting in. Thank you!

i've never written for cregan before so i hope i did him justice <3

warnings: uncomfortable talk of women? (from your mother and sisters), you are his first wife (rickon doesn't exist yet), canon divergent, reader's family is not specified

a/n: this could possibly have a second part... all feedback is welcomed!!

When the news broke that Lord Cregan Stark was looking to take a new wife, your father was not hesitant to offer up your hand.

Your family resided close to the North, and your father needed Lord Stark as an ally in case any conflict arose suddenly. Within only a single moon, Lord Stark agreed to take you to wed.

It was not in your plans to be forced into a marriage, but rather find someone to love and live a long and prosperous life with.

"You know he is not going to be kind, not like the silly tales you read of," your mother, of course, prepared you for your impending doom of a marriage, as she implied.

You wanted to die. If only you were not a high-born lady, you could choose your fate.

"You cannot expect him to tend to you every moment of the day, at all even," you remember your older sisters joining the two of you, helping you to know what will become of you.

"He will take you as he wishes, and you will comply."

"You will lay with him until he finds pleasure and discards of you."

"But.. will I find pleasure?"

They laughed at you, both of your sisters and your mother. You did not wish to be trapped in a loveless marriage.

"No, if anything, he will find some cheap whore to busy himself with, until it is time for you to give him heirs."

"You mustn't talk to him unless spoken to first-"

"And you mustn't speak your mind, ever."

They filled your head with their advice until the day of your wedding. It was a small gathering just within the walls of Winterfell. Your family attended, as well as Cregan's uncle, a couple members of his council, and his half siblings.

During the post-ceremony celebration, you stayed timid, smiling gently whenever Cregan looked at you, or when your mother sent a pointed expressed to you.

You watched your brother, brothers-in-law, and father, eager to drink, but Cregan refrained.

Cregan tried to hold your hand, or lay his hand over your knee, succeeding in doing so, but you shied away from his touch, your body freezing up.

At the end of the night, the celebration winded down and you retreated to your new chambers, apart from Cregan's. You knew that he would be in to consummate the marriage soon, so you prepared yourself, trying to find a place in your head you could go to escape.

As your maidens dressed you for the night, a soft knock was heard on the door, one of your maids scurried to see who would come at such a late hour.

"My Lady Stark, it is your lord husband."

Lady Stark. Quite the title.

"Let him in, and leave us."

She and the other maids left the newlyweds as requested. He stood at the door, quite the ways away from you.

"Did you enjoy the celebration?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Please, call me Cregan, I am your husband now."

"Yes, my- Cregan," he moved slightly towards you.

"Have I done something to offend you?"

"No, my lord."

"Cregan. And are you sure?"

"Yes, Cregan. I apologize, husband if I have not been attentive enough. I can be better, I promise. I can be a good wife," you begged him.

He said your name softly, seeing the utter fear in your eyes, "You have been perfect; there is no need for you to upset yourself."

"Have you come to consumate the marriage?"

"I figured you were too tired. Do you want to?"

You were taken aback by his question, you hadn't expected him to ask about you.

"I- I think I would prefer to rest," you bowed your head at him.

"As you wish, wife. I will see you in the morn," he walked to you and gently kissed the top of your head, then retreated to his own quarters.

-

The morn came and you were still not talking to him. Maybe you were just nervous to be away from your home is all and you just wanted some time to adjust to your new life.

Weeks passed and he tried to talk to you, but you only answered him with short responses. This worried him, what had he done to hurt you?

He decided to send you a new pelt, incase you wished to explore the gardens or the outside walls of Winterfell. He hoped to hear from you about the gift, but no word came back except for a thank you from your maid.

He did not understand why you would not talk to him. He began sending flowers almost every morn with your meal, he gifted you a horse, (which you had not even attempted to see since the first time he showed you), and he even went as far as obtaining you a direwolf pup as a wedding gift. The pup became as reclused as you.

He became frustrated with his failed attempts to connect with you, sulking around Winterfell, and it was very apparent in his commands.

He hadn't taken a trip to the wall in weeks, and he commanded his men to finish outrageous requests; lashing out at anyone who questioned him or seemed to breathe the wrong way.

You had not been eager to seek him out or talk to him, not even trying to leave the walls of Winterfell to explore the nearing city; just staying in the comfort of the castle's library and your chambers.

He wanted to see you, to build a bond with his new wife, but most of the time he was unable to find you; it seemed that you were hiding from him.

After almost a moon of short interactions and dodging his every move, he was ready to beg, luckily he finally cornered you in your chambers.

Instead of a maid coming to fetch you for supper, Cregan insisted that he go instead. He pushed open your doors, finding you sitting with a book near the window, your much larger direwolf pup at your feet

Your head shot up at the sudden noise, louder than you were used to at this hour. You set down your book, ready to stand at his presence, but he stalked over to you rather quickly.

He dropped to his knees at your feet, startling you, he stated your name, "Please tell me what I have done, I wish to see you, to speak to you."

"You have done nothing, husband. I will speak if you wish it."

"No! I want you to speak freely, what has made you shy away from me? I am trying to know you, to love you. Please, just tell me!"

Your gaze softened, "You want to love me?"

His face changed to confusion, "Of course. Have I dont something to make you assume otherwise?"

"Not you..."

"Who. Tell me. I will have their tongues."

"My mother... and my sisters. They spoke that you would not be kind, that I should not speak freely near you... that you would be too busy with cheap whores to notice me until you wanted an heir."

He set his large hands on your knees, "Every word of that is so untrue. I married you because I want to love you. Let me."

You looked at his eyes, yearning in them, "I want you to love me."

He pulled you to stand with him. He tugged you by the waist into him, peppering you with kisses, one near your eyebrow, one on your cheek, one on the tip of your nose, and finally one at the corner of your mouth. You smiled at him and his actions.

"There's that smile I so desperately have been wanting to see for over a moon."

You set your hands on either side of his face, kissing his lips softly, "I'm sorry that I have been so distant, I should have seen your efforts."

"I hold no grudge against you wife, I am just happy you are giving me another chance," he kissed you again.

"Shall we go to supper?" You nodded as he took your hand.

"Good. I think my men will be pleased to hear of our reconcile. I fear I have been more than unpleasant," you kissed his jaw.

"Well, we owe them an apology don't we?"

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

As You Wish

Pairing: Aemond x wife reader

Summary: Aemond's new wife has a moment of reflection wondering if her new husband truly cares for her. Aemond is determined to prove to her that he is utterly devoted to her.

Warnings: smut, some slight angst? maybe idk honestly haha, Aemond loves his wife he just has issues expressing it lol, p in v, oral (f receiving) man is a champ when it comes to that, praise, 18+, vulgar language lol, slight breeding kink

AN: hey y'all! long time no see haha, I finally watched the season 2 hotd premiere last night and had to finally write something! this is my first go at a legit fic and not just headcanons so don't be too judgy haha. but I hope y'all enjoy it! :)

PS: it is unedited rn, but I was just too excited to post it, so I'll edit it later!

The rose-scented bubbles of the bath water lapped soothingly against your flesh. This had become your routine, after the evening's supper or feast you would call to your handmaid to draw a bath. Scalding hot water, warm enough to turn your skin pink upon contact. The boiling water and the familiar scent of the roses were one of the few things that brought you comfort after your marriage to Prince Aemond. Your family had come seasonally to court for many moons now, your mother being a friend of Queen Alicent. As your brothers sparred with the young princes in the training grounds, you took more kindly towards the gardens. Wandering around the maze of flowers and bushes searching for faeries and nymphs. Of course, you had been only a child then and had not yet known that such silly things don’t exist. 

It had been the Prince himself that informed you of such. You had been crouched on your knees before a bed of yellow roses, looking between the stems and leaves for the little creatures. The skirts of your dress soiled and stained brown from the earth beneath you. You had been so preoccupied with searching for them, that you hadn’t heard the crunching of grass and footsteps behind you.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?” Aemond had asked you, voice bitter but curious. You stood up hastily, nearly tripping on your own two feet as you spun around and curtsied clumsily. 

“I am searching for faeries my Prince. Mother said that they can be found amongst the stems of the most beautiful flowers!” Your small hands began to nervously dust themselves off on your already dirty skirts. Aemond’s eye followed the motion, his upper lip curling in disgust. It had only been a couple of moons since the young prince had lost his eye. The scar was still fresh and red around the edges, the eyepatch clearly bothering him. For it appeared to be fastened too tight around his head. 

“Don’t be absurd, such pathetic things don’t exist. All you’ve succeeded in doing is soiling your clothes.” He motions down towards your skirts, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. Feeling ashamed to be talked down upon by someone you hoped to be a potential friend. Even though his eye, or lack thereof, scared most, you had found it intriguing. Your father had told you stories of men in faraway places who wore their scars like badges of honor, like trophies of war. The marred skin being a testament to their victories in battle. Your father however did not return to tell the tails of his own scars, for he had passed in the Stepstones, aiding Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon in their war. 

“My apologies my Prince, for I-” you dared a look up into face, his brows knit together, arms crossed over his chest. You lowered your eyes in shame once more “I shall go change my skirts at once.” And with that you darted off, not waiting for a response from the young Targaryen. 

That had been many years ago though, and you were no longer a child, and nor was he. Prince Aemond had grown into a handsome man, not just physically, but intellectually as well. The water of your bath had grown tepid as you recalled the memory, a slight frown adorning your features. Why had he wanted to marry you? He hardly had shown any interest, more likely it was because his mother and grandfather craved the military prowess your family possessed. They needed it for the impending war. So a proposal for your hand had been made, and your eldest brother eagerly accepted. After your father’s passing, and your mother grew older in age he had taken it upon himself to attend to the coming and goings of your house. 

It wasn’t that Aemond was exactly an unkind husband, he just wasn’t present, ever. There was always a reason or excuse for him to leave a room once you arrived. The only full night you had spent with him had been your wedding night, in your marital bed. He wasn’t rough, nor was he gentle, but he possessed an air of duty and responsibility when it came to the consummation. For once he spilled his spend inside of you he had fetched a cloth for you to clean yourself. Then turned his back to you and slept, not uttering another word. 

The sound of your chamber doors creaking open drew you from your thoughts. The clanking of a sword and heavy footsteps made their way towards you in the bathing room. You were met with the sight of your rather disheveled lord husband. Before you could offer him a greeting, however, his eye lifted to your face, and he asked: 

“May I join you?” Taken aback slightly by the question there was a pause, the room silent. Then, you nodded, “Yes, yes of course you may husband.” 

Aemond had waited for your approval before stripping himself bare of his clothes, riding clothes by the looks of it. He must have been out on Vhagar. You observe him as he untethered his belts and the laces of his boots. The years of training had done him well, his arms and back muscles lean and corded. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to drag your nails down them, as he fucked into you–

“Wife? Did you hear me?” Shit, he must have asked you something, looking up from the muscles of his arms to meet his eyes you shook your head. He chuckled a bit, smirking, you had been caught in your staring.

“I asked you, how was your day my lady wife.” A hint of amusement laced his voice, he had rid himself of his clothes, having placed them neatly over the back of one of the armchairs in the rooms. 

“Oh, well, it was alright. Nothing too exciting I'm afraid. I did have tea with your mother and sister though. That was quite pleasant, Helaena was telling me of the butterflies that come for the roses this time of year. She said we must go see them once they arrive.” As you spoke Aemond made his way around the tub, to behind you. It took an embarrassingly great deal of effort not to stare as he had presented himself bare before you. To look only above his waist and not let your eyes drift down towards his cock. 

“Mmh, yes we must see them then,” his cold hands met your shoulder blades, rubbing small, soothing, circles on them. This was his way of telling you to move forward, so that he may join you in the tub, taking his place behind you, and pulling you onto his lap. 

“You take such tepid baths wife. You’ll catch a cold one of these days.” He mumbled into your ear as he made himself comfortable behind you, his legs outstretched beside your own. It wasn’t that such small talk was uncommon between the two of you when he was around. Besides, you two did share chambers, so despite his avoidance during the day, he was bound to return to you at night. 

Turning fully to face him now, with a surge of annoyance, the water sloshing around the two of you with your sudden movements. “Why do you care? You are hardly even here to see me as is, I doubt you would even notice.” Aemond’s singular lilac eye widens, not from anger, but rather from surprise. His lady wife was always so sweet, so silent, this was new, and dare he say exciting. 

“A woman can only take so much you know–” You go to stand, to leave the tub, and go to bed, done with whatever this conversation is. Aemond’s hand shoots out to grasp your wrist, stopping you from doing so. 

“Wait!” It came out more harsh than he had intended. “I do care for you my lady, truly I do. I did not know that you–”

“Prove it.” You say interrupting whatever he is about to tell you. You keep your eyes level and voice steady. “Prove it to me then husband,”

Aemond says only one thing before attacking your lips, “As you wish,” He is not gentle in his kisses, he does not know how to be gentle. Perhaps you could teach him. His grasp on your wrist moves to your waist as he continues his assault on your lips. His hands roam the flesh of your waist, your hips, your thighs, his lips move down towards your neck. Biting and nipping at the flesh there, sure to leave a mark for all to see.

“Aemond–” 

“Shhh, let me take care of you tonight. Let me prove to you how much I desire you, my love.” He murmurs between bites and kisses. He pulls back, only for a moment, “You are beautiful, I am sorry I have not told you this enough,” his lips attach themselves to one of your breasts, suckling at the nipple. You let out a surprised breath as he bites down, a wave of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

His roaming hands have found purchase on your ass, his deft fingers kneading the plump flesh. Suddenly his grip becomes tighter as he rises from the tub with you in his arms, water spilling over the sides and onto the floor. You hurriedly wrap your arms around his neck, in an attempt to steady yourself. 

“Aemond! You’ve made a mess–” He laughs, fully this time, not just a chuckle. It’s a lovely sound you think.

 “Fuck the mess, the maids shall deal with it in the morning. I’ve neglected my dear lady wife and that must be rectified immediately. One of the hands on your ass pulls back and gives it a small slap. You gasp in surprise, tucking your face into his neck, peppering small kisses there, just as he had done to you moments before. You could get used to this side of your husband. Aemond lets out a hum of satisfaction at your ministrations, soon after playfully throwing you down onto your shared bed. 

“Aemond the sheets, they’re soaked now–” you began to protest cut off rather abruptly by his grip on your ankles. Pulling you down towards the end of the mattress, your cunt now level with his lips. 

“That should hardly matter, we have others–” he places a kiss on your inner thigh. “Besides the only thing I care to see soaked is your cunt after I am done–” Without another word or hesitation, Aemond licks a hot stripe up the center of your core. Then a second, and a third, until he loses all control. He devours you like a man starved. His strong arms wrap themselves around your things, pulling you impossibly closer to him. His tongue continues its assault on your cunt.

“You taste of the finest ambrosia–” the vibrations of his voice sending shock waves of electricity to your clit. Aemond is only spurred on further by the sound of your sweet moans. His name falling from your lips like a chant, like a prayer to the Seven. His lips find purchase on your clit, sucking and licking till you're writhing beneath him. Your hands shoot down, finding purchase in his long silver locks.

“Aemond, oh Aemond–” the words spill from your lips like nonsense. The only thing you are able to focus on is his lips and tongue lapping at your cunt. The man between your thighs devouring you like this is his last meal alive.

“Cum for me, cum on my tongue. And then I shall reward you with my cock. Cum for me my love–” As if on command, you feel the muscles of your lower abdomen contract, and then all that lovely pleasure overflows, and bursts from you. With a strangled cry of his name, you cum on his tongue. You look down at your husband between your thighs, his lips glistening in your release. 

“Good girl, my good, sweet, perfect girl. You did exactly what I asked,” he crawls up your body, stopping only to place the occasional kiss to your hot skin. His lips return to your neck, sucking love marks into the skin over the faint ones he had left before. A newfound favorite of his perhaps. He gives his cock a few strokes, his thumb collecting the beading drop of arousal from his tip. Wordlessly, he brings the digit up to your lips, pressing down gently on your bottom one. You open your mouth, sucking the essence from his finger, swirling your tongue around it, eager to please him. He groans in response, resting his forehead on yours, 

“Perhaps another night my love, I need to be inside of you now.” You release his thumb with a slight pop. 

“Fuck me then, husband–” Not needing any further encouragement, Aemond sheathes his cock inside of your cunt. The warm, velvety walls squeezing him perfectly. “Fuck–” he moans breathlessly as he slowly begins to thrust into your weeping cunt. The squelching noises from his movements turn your cheeks red, you move to hide your face in the crook of his neck once more, but a hand on your chin stops you. From above, Aemond’s lilac eye bores into your own, like a spell, you are unable to look away.

Aemond’s thrusting becomes faster, harder, like a man starved. The grasp on your chin returns to your hips. As Aemond rolls back slightly, sitting on his knees, he brings your hips to meet his, your back still on the bed. From this angle he has full control over your body, not that he hadn’t before. But now he could control his thrusts, making them sharper, harder. Beneath him, your eyes screw shut in pleasure, consumed by his ministrations. 

You look beautiful like this, he thinks. Cheeks red, hair a mess, sweat glistening on your skin. He had been a fool before, not indulging you more often. Not being by your side, it was a mistake he would make no more. He had been too afraid of your rejection, too afraid you would find him repulsive because of his scar. The scar that he himself found so disturbing. But clearly, the way his name fell from your lips, as your face contorted in pleasure, this was not the case. 

“Shall I cum inside of your perfect cunt? Shall I plant my seed, and watch you grow and swell with my child?” He barely recognized the words coming from his lips, too lost in carnal desire to notice. 

“Yes, yes Aemond, yes–” the words leaving your lips like a hymn, a prayer to your lord husband. Aemond’s fingers began to circle your bud as he continued to rut into you. 

“Together then, I can feel you little wife–” As if he possessed some kind of magic, you did as commanded. Aemond’s release coating your walls, both of you warm and well sated. Once more he leans down, leaving a small peck on your lips before resting his forehead on yours. 

“I have been a fool, a complete and utter fool. I am not a great man in many ways my sweet lady wife. But for you perhaps I could be,” He places another kiss on your lips. 

“I would like that very much Aemond,” you smile a bit as you say this because it is true and it would be unfair to not allow him to prove as much. After all, that is what you asked of him is it not? Without pulling out or away from you, Aemond rolls to his side, tucking you into him, desperate to keep you in his arms. 

“Stay like this with me tonight, please?” He asks, afraid you’ll send him away. 

“Tonight and every night if you behave,” you give him a slight pinch to add emphasis to your comment. You feel his chest vibrate against your cheek with laughter. 

“As you wish,” he says one final time, as the two of you drift off to sleep, held safely in the arms of one another.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? ��� Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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[luvjunie]

— sleepover

pairing: e-1610!miles x fem!reader

contains: fluffff! jeff and rio being realistic parents, miles being stubborn per usual

summary: miles’ parents finally agreed to letting the two of you have a sleepover, on one condition. however, miles was never the best at following directions. wc: 1,630

New york. The city that never sleeps.

The faint murmuring of bustling cars and the habitual honking of horns seeped through the tight seal of the shut apartment window; ironic in the way it somehow lulled you. An imperfect melody you welcomed—also the same one deemed a nuisance by those foreign to the chaos that naturally assimilated to comfort the longer you remained in Brooklyn. It usually helped you slip into a slumber with ease—but now— was succeeding in its attempt of doing the exact opposite.

And when you heard Miles expel a weighted, disgruntled sigh; you were led to believe the two of you had more in common with each other apart from the fact that you both lived here.

After weeks and weeks of begging, and endless explanations as to why exactly he needed his girlfriend to sleep over when they wouldn’t even get to utilize the time spent together because they were supposed to be asleep, Miles had finally convinced his mom and dad to let the two of you have a sleepover.

Fun, right?

Yeah, well you thought it’d be. Until his mom insisted the two of you bring your pillows and blankets and fantasies of your life as a matured couple to the living room and sleep out there. Six feet away from each other. You guys were practically social distancing like it was 2019 all over again.

The curt reasoning she offered included something about her not wanting the two of you in his room alone at night; not that she thought her son would actually be dumb enough to do anything along those lines with her in the house. You loved Mama Rio, but even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. This was her house, and that meant you had to follow her rules. The fact that you were even able to come over as much as you did was a blessing in itself, so you took everything else in stride.

Miles let you take the couch of course, and he was currently sprawled out on his back on the floor, a pillow tucked beneath his head as he studied the minuscule cracks in the ceiling as if they truly interested him. Scrolling through his instagram timeline had gotten old fairly quickly, and at 1:00AM in the morning, neither of you were really motivated enough for conversation.

You were more than grateful to spend a night with your boyfriend, but this wasn’t necessarily how you expected it to go. Whenever you guys would hang out during normal hours of the day, you’d always end up in his embrace, curled and cuddled into each other comfortably. Whatever movie or tv-show you’d put on in the background begging for the same attention you’d give each other. After growing used to such a routine, that was really the only way you could fall asleep at his house.

But alas, holding your pillow close to you instead of him would have to suffice, you decided, as you let your eyes close once again.

“Baby?” Miles called out into the darkness, lip chewed in anticipation.

Silence.

He’d said only a word but you knew better than to engage. A conversation would end up with the two of you in trouble in the morning, so you pretended to be asleep.

“I know you’re awake. I counted exactly three seconds between your last two breaths and when you’re asleep it slows down to five.”

You stifled a laugh, ultimately blowing your cover. “Okay, now that’s just creepy.”

“People who are asleep don’t laugh!” he quipped.

A smile snuck onto your lips and you hadn’t the heart to reprimand it, lids peeling back open to stare up at the same ceiling he was.

“Yes, Miles?”

“Can you not fall asleep either, or have I become an insomniac all of a sudden?” The question came with a sigh, long arms spread to their full wingspan as he tried to count how many full rotations the ceiling fan made in a minute. That was how bored he was.

You sighed disappointedly, toying with the frayed tassels on your blanket. A moue on your face. “No, I can’t fall asleep either.”

“I think I know why.” he sung the last word in suggestion, hands absentmindedly drumming against his abdomen.

“Miles,” you warned, letting your head fall to the side so you could stare at the top of his head and address him directly. “Your mom gave very specific instructions, and personally, I would like to return home to mine with my head still on my shoulders.” grumbling your response, you shoved down the urge to invite him up there with you like your mind was telling you to.

He propped himself up on an elbow at that, eyes immediately making contact with yours. Your first mistake was not looking away, because those pretty pools of hazel were already starting to convince you and he hadn’t even opened his mouth yet.

“But how is that fair?” he complained, sounding exasperated. “We take naps together all the time when you’re here, I just wanna cuddle with you.” he sulked, as if you were the one who’d come up with the rule. Never in a million years would you submit the both of you to this kind of torture. You loved falling asleep in his arms.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Well, yeah. But that’s during the day, when she can check on us anytime she wants to. I don’t think your mom wants us that close to each other at night for,” The last part of your sentence faded to a jumbled murmur as your gaze traveled back to the ceiling. “…obvious reasons.”

He impishly raised a brow as if he didn’t know what you were referring to, chin resting in the palm of his hand. With only the faded lights of the city to illuminate the living room, the cheeky smile on his face went unnoticed, though you could hear it in the tone of his voice, loud and clear.

“And what reasons are those?” Miles asked, feigning innocence. His long lashes blinking at you.

Hand smacking to your forehead, you recited a silent prayer, a plea for strength. It was beginning to look like you weren’t going to get yourself out of this. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

His hand gestured to the air, plainly. “Well obviously. But still, we’re not dumb. That’s why I always take you to the roof when we—“

“Miles Gonzalo Morales do not finish that sentence!”

He snorted at the squeak of your voice and you used your pillow to hide your heated face.

“This is not going to help us fall asleep.” your irritated statement was muffled from the fabric of the pillowcase.

He hummed. “Exactly, meaning there’s only one thing left to try.” Slow to catch on, you didn’t realize what he meant until you felt the couch dip from the weight of his knee.

A hand trickled up the exposed skin of your thigh and it stopped when it met your sleep-shorts clad hip, the pillow snatched from your face and tossed onto the floor where he previously resided just a second ago.

“What are you—?”

He hovered over you, one hand pressed into the cushion beside your waist to hold himself up. Your question fell short when he swiftly parted your legs with his other hand and comfortably slotted his body between your thighs. A relieved sigh escaped him, his cheek nuzzling into the soft of your chest when he laid on top of you. His favorite way to cuddle.

“Shhh, trying to sleep.” murmuring a dismissive answer to your query, he let his eyes flutter to a close and snaked his arms around your waist, forearms cradling the curve of your back.

Contrary to the fight you were putting up just a minute ago— your arm curled over the expanse of his shoulders, fingers idly twirling at the baby curls that dusted the nape of his neck, something you always did to help him fall asleep faster. He let out a low, satisfied sound and relaxed into you completely, his hold on you tightening. While a part of you wanted to protest, an even bigger part wanted to remain under him like this. His weight was comforting; made you feel secure in the way a weighted blanket did.

“Your mom is not going to be happy with us.” you reminded him, stretching your other arm down enough to grab your blanket and pull it up over the two of you.

“It’s worth it. I’ll happily take the blame,” he drawled sleepily, snuggling in closer to the kiss that grazed his forehead. “I love you…” The laggard pace to his words let you know he was already dozing off, and you smiled, fatigue finally catching up with you too.

“I love you, Miles.”

— extra scene

Jeff stood in silence, arms folded over his broad chest and lips puckered awkwardly. Rio occupied the space next to him, hands perched on her wide hips, fingers tapping against them and her jaw clenched in disapproval. Her expression was everything but amused at the scene in front of them. He stole a tactful glance at his wife every two seconds, silently trying to gauge how irritated she was without having to ask her.

Sometime during the night you and Miles had switched places, and now his lanky legs were draped over the arm of the small couch and you were on top of him, clung to his body like a wet T-shirt, face barely visible seeing as it was nestled into the crook of his neck. With his mouth hanging slack as he loftily snored, Rio felt her eye almost twitch while she stared down at her stubborn son, who seemed to have magically teleported from his assigned spot on the floor and into yours instead.

“Well, I coulda told’ya that would happen.” Jeff said quietly with a laid-back shrug, to which Rio responded with a back-handed swat to his chest.

“Ow!”

Through her aggravation she still kept her voice low as to not wake the two of you, eyes narrowed at her husband. “I am going to strangle this boy, Jeff. Dios ayudame. ¡Tu hijo nunca escucha! (God help me, your son never listens!)” she griped, gesturing towards Miles’ arm that was loosely circled around your waist. She tramped down the hall, hands tossed up in defeat while she grumbled something incoherent under her breath.

Lips downturned into an offended frown, Jeff coddled his chest with his palm and followed after her, voice kicked up an octave like a nagging child. “Why is he only my son when he does something you don’t like? We made him together!”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated 💗

[rebelliousstories]

Their S/O Walking in on Them Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,222

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Leave a TIP: Here and Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Logan has been around a long time, and has long let go of any shame of someone catching him in that vulnerable position. That being said…

* He never likes anyone coming into his space unannounced. Clothed, or not. So, someone coming into his room, without knocking, while he’s sliding pants on, dressed only in boxers; he’s pausing and sniffing the air to determine if the claws are necessary. When he doesn’t smell an immediate threat, he’s still hunched over and stationary when he sees you walk in.

* “Hey,” he’ll grumble, “you okay, bub?”

* He’s not afraid of you seeing him like this, but the pausing is a little concerning for him. Logan gets his pants on, does his belt, and then comes over to you.

* Logan always smells like smoke and whiskey, coupled with what can only be described as an animal-type musk to him. But it’s not terribly overpowering. And his chest is so very warm when he crowds you in after catching you staring. Logan’s hands on your waist just fill you with warmth. He is a walking furnace, and definitely uses it to his advantage.

* “Everything alright in that head of yours?” He would just love to tease you when he caught you openly gawking at him. It makes him feel better about himself, and your relationship. Every version of Logan has enough trauma to fill several books, so reassurance is something he definitely needs every now and again.

* Safe to say that walking in on Logan is a wonderful chance for him to get the praise he wants, and maybe a pair of wandering hands across his chest.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

* Oh boy, walking in Wade is both a blessing and a curse. This man is well aware of his physique. He holds no illusions that his cancer ridden skin is not the most attractive thing in the world, but he made do with what he had. So catching him is near impossible. Before the mutation had wrecked his look, he would have gladly let you catch him in the middle of changing. Now, well, he didn’t want to make you lose your lunch.

* So, all that to say, catching him changing is very difficult. However, it has happened. It was just a regular day. Well, as regular as it could get into the household. Wade had just returned from an afternoon of Deadpool-ing around the city, and was trying to get changed before you came home. He knew that he was cutting it close as it is, but he still held out hope that he would be done. That wasn’t the case. The sound of a door coming open made Wade try and get out of his suit fast, but that only succeeded in getting him stuck in the suit.

* “Well, this is an interesting sight.” He flopped on the bed, and looked to the door. There you stood, with a shopping bag from your day out, and watching your boyfriend struggle with his suit.

* “I know. It’s like a golf ball covered in skin that went into a red leather condom. Can you just yank on that leg please?” It’s a much less funny event than you would expect. And when you don’t leave after getting him out of his suit? He’s utterly confused. Standing there in his boxers, Wade was patiently waiting for you to go. But you never did. Your eyes stayed glued to him, and he couldn’t help but make a comment.

* “You can’t honestly like this, you little freak?”

* “You bet your sweet ass I do.”

* He doesn’t believe you, but after a few rounds, he might come around to the idea.

Remy LeBeau/ Gambit

* My sweet southern gentleman. Let me tell you one thing that I said in the last headcanons; This man is so respectful. Remy LeBeau, walking in on you, is embarrassed about betraying your trust like that. However, Remy LeBeau that you walk in on, is a tease, sly, smug S.O.B.

* I can fully see where he would be changing too. He’d be a gentleman and allow you the first shower so you can have all the hot water and a longer experience. But Remy is burning up. It’s summer in New Orleans, the bug screen is up on the windows, but the breeze can’t cool him down enough. He figures that he could at least take off his shirt while he’s waiting. But his pants soon join the shirt on the ground as well because he still can’t cool down. He’s about to flop down onto the bed when he hears the bathroom door open and out you walk in just a towel.

* “See somethin’ ya like, cher?”

* “Go take a shower, you stinky swamp rat.”

* He might be a little cocky when he catches you staring at his figure that he usually keeps hidden under many layers, but when your face heats up n a fierce blood red blush, Remy is quick to get her his clothing and move in to go take his own shower. Once he’s out though, prepare for a menace to be on your hands.

* He’s constantly asking if you like his body, and will gently tease you for the rest of the night about you not being able to wait to catch him in such a state of undress. If you play along, he’ll keep going till the moment calls for it. But if you aren’t here for the banter, he’s genuinely asking if he made you uncomfortable. Your comfort is paramount with our swamp rat.

* But Gambit will tease you about it occasionally, especially in public, when it can almost guarantee a rise out of you.

Poly! Deadpool and Wolverine

* Much like the DP headcanons above, I feel like this is going to happen after a mission they go on. The two of the stumble home to the apartment, and already have their masks off, when they fumble and slam their way into the bedroom. They try to be quiet because they know that you’re asleep in the bed in the middle of the room, but it’s hard when the grunts of sore muscles and moving leather fill the room.

* “Stop making so much damn noise, mouth. You’re gonna wake up the beast, and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now.” Logan would grumble.

* “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that my quiet unzipping of my suit meticulously was overpowering your grunts and groans like you just got out of a cage match.”

* “Will the two of you shut the hell up and strip so I can have something to dream about?” Your voice startled the two men, who had assumed that you were sleeping peacefully.

* Let me remind you, these are fully grown men and they decided to spend the next fifteen minutes taking off their suit while putting the blame on the other for you waking up. Like a couple of children, but you sucked it up because it was worth the eye candy to help drift you off into dreamland once more.

* By the time they get into bed and quit their bickering, you have already fallen asleep to the dreams filled with Logan’s perfect sculpted body, and Wade’s side comments. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[punkshort]

i'll be home for christmas | part two

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Having just caught your fiancé cheating on you, you decide to come back home from the big city to Austin for the month of December to try to figure out your next step. You had no idea you would be getting more than you bargained for with the handsome single dad who built your parents' house.

Chapter Warnings: no outbreak, modern day but Joel is 40, language, fluff, very soft!joel, flirting, kissing, hallmark movie tropes up the wazoo, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, reader's sister is pregnant, hurt/comfort, explicit smut (18+MDNI), (somewhat) unproteced piv sex, angst (but you know there will be a happy ending, this is Hallmark, after all)

WC: 12K

A/N: I am so overwhelmed at the response I received for part one. No contest, it's my most successful story to date, and I can't thank you all enough ❤️ I really hope you enjoy this part just as much. Please read the warnings, this has some (very sweet and soft) smut at the end, so if it isn't your thing, feel free to skip it.

Series Masterlist

Joel sat in his truck, the engine long cooled down by now, as he stared blankly at his garage door, waiting for the stupid grin to leave his face before he went inside to face his brother. But he had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, and he was still smiling behind the back of his hand.

That date with you was perfect. Well, he could have done without getting knocked on his ass by some kid, but it worked out for him in the end, so he didn't mind.

Goddamn, did you make him feel good. There was no way he would be able to sleep that night, he was sure of it. Not after the way you looked at him, touched him, kissed him. A big part of him wondered for a long time if he would spend the rest of his life alone, believing that lightning doesn't strike twice, that he would never find anyone who would look at him and want him the way you did.

He ignored the nagging voice in the back of his head that reminded him you didn't live there, that you would be going back to New York in a couple short weeks. He couldn't let that bring him down just yet, that was a problem for another day. Right now, his only problem was resisting the urge to drive back to your house and scoop you up in his arms so he could make you feel as good as he felt.

It was close to midnight, so he caved and went inside, hoping his brother would be too groggy to interrogate him. When he walked in and saw Tommy and Sarah lounging on the couch, wide awake and watching some action flick, his face fell.

"Hey, it is way past your bedtime, the hell are you doin'?" Joel scolded, sliding off his boots.

"Dad, c'mon, it's the weekend," Sarah whined.

"Don't care, you know the rules," he told her, trying to sound firm, but he had such a soft spot for her that he never succeeded in sounding threatening.

"But it's a special occasion, I wanted to hear how your date went," she grinned, sitting up and wiggling her eyebrows. Joel's jaw dropped and shot a glare at his brother while stretching his arms out at his side in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, she practically dragged it outta me," Tommy smirked.

"Unbelievable," Joel muttered, collapsing on the end of the couch and rubbing his eyes.

"So?" Sarah pushed, tucking her legs underneath her excitedly.

"I ain't talkin' about this with you," he said, biting his cheek as he stared at the TV.

"Why not?" she pouted, but Joel just shook his head.

"Go brush your teeth," he said.

"Fine," she replied, rolling her eyes as she made her way to the stairs. "But I'll get it out of you one day."

She stomped upstairs and it wasn't until Joel heard the water running that he turned to his brother.

"What the hell, Tommy? You know I didn't want her knowin' about that," he said, exasperated.

"Oh, relax," Tommy said, stretching his arms above his head. "She's sixteen, Joel. She's smart. She figured it out herself, I just confirmed it after gettin' the third degree."

Joel sighed and tipped his head back onto the sofa, closing his eyes.

"Christ," he muttered.

"What's the big deal?"

Joel sat up and opened his eyes.

"Big deal is, she lives in New York. There's no future there, we were just hangin' out, and I don't need Sarah gettin' her hopes up," Joel explained, trying to downplay his feelings, but his chest squeezed at the thought of you leaving one day.

"Ever hear of long distance?" Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That never works," Joel replied, shaking his head.

"Well, maybe you should make it work," he said, sitting up and muting the TV. "You know, Sarah just wants you to be happy, Joel. We both do," Tommy said somberly. "Told me tonight she's worried about you bein' all alone when she goes off to college."

"I'll be alright," he said gruffly, although the same thought was plaguing his mind recently, as well.

Tommy stared at his brother a moment as Joel watched the TV, pretending to follow the story even though there was no audio. He decided to drop it for now and changed the subject.

"So, you gonna tell me how it went or what?"

Joel bit his lower lip, trying to keep himself from smiling, but he failed. Tommy noticed right away and grinned, leaning forward to tap his knee.

"I know that look," he said, still grinning.

"Yeah, alright," Joel finally said with a smile. "It was great. Really fuckin' great."

"Hell yeah!" Tommy yelled, and Joel immediately shushed him, pointing upstairs.

"She's funny and she's sweet, we had a real nice time," Joel said, his grin permanently etched on his face now.

"I figured it went well since you got home so late," Tommy replied with a wink.

"I ain't gonna sleep with her on the first date," he whispered, just in case Sarah was listening. He settled back into the couch as Tommy turned the TV volume back on, letting the movie play for a minute before adding, "She's a good kisser, though."

"Oh, I can't wait to meet this girl," Tommy chuckled with a shake of his head. "Haven't seen you smile this much in years."

"Yeah, well," Joel replied noncommittally, still smiling like an idiot and staring at the TV. He decided to stay downstairs that night, finishing the movie and then starting another one on the couch long after Tommy left, unable to quiet down his mind long enough to fall asleep until nearly three in the morning.

You woke up the next day, stretching your arms above your head with a big yawn, not ready to get out of bed yet but the voices downstairs told you it must have been late. With a groan, you reached over and snatched your phone off the charger. When you saw you had a text waiting for you, your heart skipped a beat until you read Sydney's name and not Joel's. Your eyes flicked to the top of the screen, noting it was close to ten in the morning, before sliding open the text.

Sydney: sorry forgot to reply yesterday. I saw will at black & blue, he was hammered and falling all over the place

You scowled, not interested in whatever your ex was up to, so you replied with just the thumbs up emoji and set your phone back down.

Staring at the ceiling, you dreamily thought about your date with Joel. God, he really took you by surprise. You were proud of yourself for taking that first big step forward and putting yourself out there again, but you had no idea it would feel like this. You weren't even sure you ever felt like this with Will. Even when things were good, Will never treated you the way Joel did last night. He was so earnest and respectful, opening doors for you and actually listening to you talk about work. And he didn't even try to feel you up, either, although you probably wouldn't have minded. Maybe it was those Southern manners you were missing this whole time.

With a groan, you dropped your phone back on the nightstand and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, wrapping yourself in your robe, still not expecting it to be so cold in Texas. Even though it was December, it was unusual.

You made your way into the kitchen and made a beeline for the coffee, tossing a wave in the direction of your parents sitting with your sister and brother in law in the living room.

"She lives!" Cassie exclaimed with a smug look on her face. You held your mug up to your lips and blew on the liquid, frowning when the whole family was looking at you with matching, goofy smirks.

"Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" your mom asked innocently. You squinted at her as you sat down, not buying it.

"How was your date?" your sister asked. You took a sip of coffee before replying.

"Good," you said simply, nodding your head. Your mom and dad exchanged a look and you frowned again, getting annoyed.

"What?" you asked loudly.

"Nothing!" your dad said, looking back down at his newspaper. Who even still gets the newspaper delivered anymore, anyway?

"Josh, what's going on?" you asked your sister's husband, knowing he was the weakest link. He glanced nervously between you and Cassie.

"They saw you and Joel on the Ring camera," he blurted out, and your family all groaned in unison. Your face flushed beet red, gawking at them all in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me?" you screeched.

"We didn't mean to, Bucky. Dad was reviewing the footage because he couldn't find the newspaper this morning and, well..." your mom trailed off, trying to hide her smile.

"Oh my god," you whined, tucking your legs to your chest and hiding your face.

"Looked like the date was a little more than good," Cassie teased, and you smacked her on the leg.

"I can't believe this," you mumbled to yourself, hiding your face behind your coffee mug and praying someone would change the subject. "How much did you see?"

"Just from when he pulled in the driveway til when you went inside," your mom said with a shrug.

"That's, like, everything, Mom! Oh my god!" Your face was hot with embarrassment now.

"He looks like a good kisser, is he a good kisser?" Cassie asked.

"Shut up!" you whined, covering your face with your free hand.

"There's nothin' to be embarrassed about, he was a gentleman. Held the door open for you and everythin'," your dad murmured, and you groaned.

"Can we talk about literally anything else, please?" you begged.

"Of course!" your mom said, her eyes flicking around the room, waiting for someone to say something, but nobody spoke.

"I'm sorry, Buck, but you gotta see the the smile on his face after you went inside, it was so cute," Cassie said, pulling out her phone.

"I'm going upstairs!" you announced, jumping up from the couch.

"Wait! Are you still coming by later to help paint the nursery?"

"I don't know, are there any cameras there?" you shouted over your shoulder as your climbed the stairs with your coffee to hide in the sanctity of the guest bedroom.

"Well, no. Only because I haven't set the baby monitor up yet," Cassie called back and giggled when she heard you slam your door.

Grumbling to yourself, you flopped back into bed and picked up your phone, looking for a distraction from your embarrassment. You quickly found one when you saw you had a missed text from Joel.

Joel Miller: Question for you - when is the earliest you should text someone without looking too pathetic after you've had the best date of your life?

You grinned as you typed out a response.

You: answer - whatever time you sent this text :)

Joel Miller: Oh, good. Thought I scared you off, sent that about ten minutes ago.

You: sorry, I was downstairs talking to my family, forgot to bring my phone. And I don't think you could ever scare me off

You almost told him about the doorbell camera fiasco, but decided against it. Picking up your mug, you tried not to stare too hard at your phone as you waited for a reply.

Joel Miller: What are you doing later?

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him again so soon, then quickly stopped yourself, remembering your promise to your sister.

You: I told my sister I would help paint the nursery...

Joel Miller: That's a shame. I was hoping you could teach me something again.

You: oh? lol

Joel Miller: I just realized how that sounded - I meant wrapping Christmas presents for Sarah. I'm awful at it and I have another hunch gift wrapping is a secret talent of yours.

You giggled and rolled over in bed, your embarrassment long forgotten now.

You: you might be right... how about tomorrow?

Joel took the porch steps two at a time, eager to see you again and it hadn't even been a full two days. His finger barely pressed the doorbell when he heard your voice call out I got it! and the door swung open. You smiled up at him, your eyes lighting up before dropping your gaze to his mouth.

"Hi," you said breathlessly.

"Hey," he replied, swallowing roughly.

"Have a nice time, Bucky!" your mom's voice rang out somewhere behind you as you shut the door quickly. Joel grinned, his gaze drifting from your eyes to your mouth before leaning in. You put your hand on his chest and tilted your head back before grabbing his hand and leading him to his truck. Confused, he followed behind and tried not to stare too long at the way your jeans perfectly hugged your ass.

You led him to the passenger side of the truck, but when he reached out to open the door, you snaked your hand up to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling his face down for a searing kiss only when you were sure you were hidden from view.

"Would I sound crazy if I said I missed you?" you whispered.

"No," Joel replied, shaking his head and trying to calm his pounding heart. "Couldn't stop thinkin' 'bout you."

"Me, too," you admitted softly, gazing up at him with your beautiful eyes all wide and burning with desire.

He cradled your face in his calloused hand, the other flattened firmly against the truck door behind you as he stared into your eyes, fighting the urge to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist so he could pin you against his truck and let you feel just how badly he missed you.

Then, you heard your dad's SUV unlock and your eyes widened in panic.

"Shit," you muttered. "We should go. I think they're heading out."

"Alright, maybe I should say 'hi' real quick," he said, pushing himself off the truck and letting his hand drop from your face.

"No! That's okay, we'll be stuck here forever if you do," you said hurriedly. He gave you a curious smile but agreed before opening the door for you and hopping into the driver's seat.

He waited until he backed out of the driveway and was heading down your street before shooting you a sideways glance.

"Everythin' okay?"

You sighed and rubbed your palms over your face before clearing your throat.

"So, remember the other night on the porch, after you dropped me off?"

He smirked and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I remember," he teased.

"Well," you began. "My family saw us on the doorbell camera the next morning," you cringed.

He laughed, throwing his head back just a bit so he could still keep an eye on the road, and shook his head.

"Oh, I hate those fuckin' things," he said, but he was still laughing.

You grinned, your nerves and unease dissipating quickly.

"You're not embarrassed?"

"Nah," he said with a shrug, then turned his head briefly to look at you. "I'm sure we put on a good show."

You giggled, your cheeks tinting pink, and turned your head to look out the window.

"Alright," he said after a minute. "I've waited long enough and I gotta ask."

You swiveled back towards him, waiting for him to continue.

"What's the story with the nickname?"

You groaned and squeezed your eyes shut.

"It's so unbelievably stupid," you said, but he shook his head.

"Well, now you gotta tell me."

"Fine," you said, rolling your eyes, but your playful smile gave you away.

"It's Buck, or Bucky. Short for Bucket," you began.

"Bucket?" he repeated, bewildered.

"I warned you it was stupid!" you protested, and he chuckled. "Anyway, when I was little, my sister and her friends had a sleepover one time, and I overheard them swearing."

"Okay," Joel said slowly, nodding along while he kept his eyes pinned to the road.

"I always looked up to my sister, I was like her shadow when I was younger. So, when I heard them swearing, I wanted to be like them, too, you know?"

"Yeah, I follow," he replied, still not sure how the story related to your nickname.

"Well, thing is, I misheard them. They were saying 'fuck it', but I heard 'bucket'," you explained. "So I went to school and, thinking I sounded cool, I would say 'bucket' to all my friends. We were little, they had no idea what I was talking about, so I explained to them it's a swear word. Before I knew it, I had the whole class saying 'bucket' any time someone dropped something, or got a bad grade on a test, or whatever."

Joel howled with laughter, gripping the steering wheel for dear life as he tried to make it safely into his driveway.

"The principal called my parents and told them what was happening," you continued, joining in and giggling. "They got me home, and-" you doubled over, clutching your stomach as Joel put the truck in park and slumped over the steering wheel, his body shaking as he laughed.

"And I had to tell them the whole story, about why I kept saying it and-" you wiped the tears from your eyes as you took a deep breath. "And - oh my god - my sister got grounded for two weeks-" Another fit of laughter washed over Joel, tears streaming down his face.

"Wait, wait," he gasped, unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to face you. "You got in trouble in school, and your sister ended up gettin' punished?"

"Yes!" you squeaked, still giggling.

"Oh, shit," he breathed, panting as he leaned the back of his head against the seat rest. "Can't believe you thought that was stupid. That's gotta be the funniest thing I heard in a long while."

"Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day," you said, still grinning.

He rolled his head back towards you, his soft gaze drifting up and down your frame quickly before stopping on your eyes.

"You really do, y'know," he said quietly, and you furrowed your brow, tilting your head in confusion.

"Brighten my day," he clarified.

You bit your lower lip and smiled, looking away as the flush began to return to your cheeks.

"Come on, charmer. Why don't we go teach you how to wrap presents?"

You never really gave much thought as to what Joel's house would look like, but once you saw it, it immediately felt like him. It was a smaller, two bedroom house. When you first walked in, you entered a living room with a leather couch and an oversized recliner. A big screen TV was front and center across from the couch, with a few framed pictures of Joel and Sarah mounted on the wall next to it.

"You want somethin' to drink?" Joel asked, making sure to slide the coat from your shoulders before shrugging off his own.

"Maybe just water," you said, following him into the kitchen. You gasped when you saw his cupboards and immediately rushed over to them while he pulled two bottles of water from the stainless steel fridge.

"Oh my god, Joel," you whispered, running your fingers gently over the designs. Each one looked different but somehow they all were cohesive. Some had small flowers or butterflies carved into the corners, while others had simple, yet intricate designs grooved into the wood.

"Had to practice somehow," he said, feeling his cheeks flush as he walked over to hand you your water.

"God, it's so beautiful," you said breathlessly, unable to look away from the dark, stained wood. Your fingers danced over some stars etched into one of doors, your eyes wide with awe, but he was focused entirely on you. He couldn't get enough of watching the delicate features on your face light up whenever you found something new that pleased you.

"How long does this take for you to do?" you asked, finally dragging your eyes away to look up at him. Your throat tightened when you noticed the heat behind his stare, your pulse fluttering in your neck.

"Depends," he murmured. "Some are faster than others, but I prefer to go slow and take my time. Anythin' worthwhile takes time. Gotta show it respect, gotta care for it."

His low and sultry tone made your face flush, forgetting for a moment you were talking about woodworking.

"Y-yeah," you stammered, clearing your throat. Suddenly, you were feeling short of breath. "That makes sense."

He gazed down at you for another moment, his eyes slowly raking over your face as if committing it to memory before speaking again. Your entire body felt hot, and you cursed yourself for wearing such a thick sweater.

"Ready to go upstairs?" he murmured, still staring at you in a way that made your spine tingle.

"Huh?" you whispered, completely entranced by his deep, brown eyes.

"The presents?" he reminded you with a small smirk.

"Oh, right," you said, finally blinking and looking away. You shakily opened your water bottle after he turned around to lead you to the stairs, your mouth suddenly extremely dry.

As you walked up the steps, you tried to get a look at the pictures that lined the wall, but it was difficult to do without tripping. You thought you had finally gotten your head on straight after that moment in the kitchen, but when you realized he was leading you to his bedroom, you felt the tremble return to your hands.

"Sorry, had to hide everythin' in my closet, she's too nosy," he said over his shoulder.

"No problem," you squeaked, trying not to stare at his neatly made bed. Your eyes briefly drifted over the end tables filled with personal effects. You thought you saw a chapstick, a cord for a phone charger, and a worn paperback book, but you didn't want him to catch you, so you looked away quickly.

He opened his closet and you were surprised to find his clothes packed away so neatly. For a bachelor, he kept a really clean house. He pulled out the bags of gifts from the shelf above his clothes, then the wrapping paper, which was leaning against the corner.

"D'you think we got enough room?" he asked, glancing around at the floor.

"Yeah, of course," you said, sitting down crossed legged on the carpet. You reached out for the wrapping paper and rolled it out in front of you as he sat down at your side, taking out her gifts one by one. You felt yourself involuntarily clench as you watched his large hands deftly lay out each item on the floor, his muscles twitching slightly under the tanned skin of his exposed forearms.

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I spoil her, I know, but she's such a good kid, I can't help myself."

That was definitely not what you were thinking, but you chose to keep that to yourself.

"I think it's sweet," you told him. "You seem like a really good dad."

Now it was his turn to blush. He tried to turn his head away so you wouldn't see, murmuring his thanks as you each picked an item to start. After a quick tutorial, which included way too much tape and ripped paper, Joel finally seemed to get the technique down. It only took until about halfway through the pile for you to muster up the courage to bring up a topic you couldn't help but be curious about.

"So," you began, hoping you came off nonchalant. "Is Sarah with her mom this Christmas, or..."

Joel's fingers fumbled for a moment with the wrapping paper, but he quickly recovered.

"Uh, no," he replied, keeping his eyes cast down on the shoe box in front of him. "She's not in Sarah's life anymore."

"Oh," you said, unable to keep the surprise from your voice, but you didn't push him any further. Your mind was scrambling, trying to think of something else to talk about, when he sighed and leaned back, abandoning the gift.

"I'm sorry, this is all so new to me, I probably should've told you about her sooner," he said, feeling guilty, but you quickly shook your head.

"No, you don't have to-"

"I want to," he said, cutting you off. You clamped your mouth shut and turned your body so you could give him your full attention, leaving the hair dryer you were wrapping on the floor next to you.

He drew a shaky breath in and looked up at the ceiling before speaking.

"There's not much to say, really. I'm still not always sure what happened," he began. You nodded, staying quiet and letting him take his time. "We were together since high school, ended up stayin' together after graduation. Sarah was a surprise, we were both still so young but we made it work. It was hard, but once me and Tommy got the business goin', it made things a bit easier."

Your fingers tangled together in your lap as you listened, refusing to say anything until he was done. His gaze drifted towards a fixed point on the wall as he continued.

"From what I gathered, she felt like havin' Sarah so young robbed her from doin' certain things in life," he said heavily. "Said she couldn't do it anymore. Didn't want her life to pass her by and be full of regret."

You bit your lip. The pain was clear as day on his face and it was making your chest ache.

"Well, anyway. I thought maybe she would go off for a couple months, do whatever it was she thought she was missin' out on. Parties, college... other men," he added the last part quietly, and you dropped your gaze to the floor. "Get it out of her system, y'know? But she just... never came back. Eventually, the calls came less and less, and I put two and two together. Didn't even get a courtesy call before I got served with the papers."

He rubbed his eyes, trying so hard not to look like a blubbering idiot in front of you. You reached your hand out and placed it gently on his knee, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He dropped his hand from his face to cover yours, staring at your coupled hands for a moment.

"Joel-"

"It was just so fuckin' hard on Sarah, y'know?" he said, his voice cracking. "I had no idea what to tell her. She cried almost every night, askin' me why her mom didn't love her anymore."

"Oh, Joel," you whispered, unable to hold back any longer. You closed the small gap between you, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into your chest, your fingers gently raking through his hair. "I'm so sorry," you told him, burying your nose in the hair on top of his head, breathing in the citrus scent from his shampoo.

He didn't say a word. He just tugged you closer and closed his eyes, leaning into your comforting touch with a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak out. "I'm throwin' way too much at you, I know you didn't sign up for this."

"Shh," you whispered into his hair, then tilted his face up to look at you, his dark brown eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's okay," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss against his lips. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek when he pulled back to look deep into your eyes.

"It's okay," you repeated, wiping away the tear with the pad of your thumb before placing another gentle kiss against his lips.

He hummed contently against your mouth, sliding his hand up to the back of your neck and pressing his lips more firmly against your own, scared to let you go because if he did, he was sure he would fall apart.

Your grip on his hair tightened as he leaned forward, one strong arm wrapped around your midsection and the other pressed against your back. You mumbled something against his mouth when he tried to lay you down and knocked over a small pile of DVDs.

"Fuck," he whispered and, oh god, the way he said it made your legs turn to jelly and your cheeks flare with heat.

Frustrated, he tightened his grip around you and lifted you up, refusing to break the kiss. A tiny, high pitched squeak slipped past your lips as you wrapped your legs around his hips, letting him carry you to his bed.

He laid you down carefully on top of his plush, navy striped comforter. You sighed into his mouth, your legs loosening around his waist and falling open while you dragged your hands out of his hair and down to his shoulders, wrapping your fingers around his biceps to keep him close. He hovered above you, balancing all his weight on his elbows while his fingers played with the ends of your impossibly soft hair.

He slipped his tongue easily past your lips with a low groan, the noise going straight to your core, making the ache between your legs almost painful while your tongue danced with his, the two already so familiar with each other.

You tipped your head back with a gasp, desperate for air, but he kept going, unable to stop himself. His lips brushed against your jaw before his teeth and prickly beard scraped against the sensitive skin behind your earlobe. You let out a needy whimper and arched your back at the sensation, pushing your breasts into his broad chest as goosebumps spread over your whole body.

"Oh god, Joel," you whined softly, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Yeah, baby?" he replied, his voice thick and muffled against your neck. Baby. Jesus, this man was unraveling you so fast, it was making your head spin.

"I-I know we said this was casual, but-" the words got trapped in your throat as you cut yourself off, unable to finish your thought.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "Fuck, I know."

He lifted his head away from your neck as he stared down at you, patting your hair back and away from your face as he panted slightly for breath.

You looked up at him, eyes watering as you tried not to think about your time coming to an end in a couple short weeks. You could tell he was thinking the same but didn't want to say it, the pain behind his eyes was obvious.

He blinked a couple times, the clouds clearing as he forced himself to focus on the present. He had you here in his arms, in his bed, underneath him right now. And he was going to be damned if he didn't soak up every single second.

He leaned back down and locked his lips on yours again, this time moving slower, more gentle and tender. He wanted to treat you right. You deserved it, and he wasn't going to give you anything less than what you deserved while he still had you.

You loosened your grip on his arms and allowed your hands to drift to the buttons of his flannel, slowly and shakily undoing them. His heart began to slam against his chest when he realized what you were doing, his mind going fuzzy with desire.

He pulled his head back when you were about halfway down his shirt, looking down hazily at your fingers working open the buttons as he desperately tried to think straight.

"Dad?" Sarah called from downstairs, the front door slamming shut. "Are you here?"

"Shit," Joel mumbled, scrambling off of you as he clumsily tried to redo his buttons. You jumped off the bed, leaning over so you could see into the mirror above his dresser, raking your hands through your tangled hair and quickly fixing your sweater.

"Yeah!" Joel shouted back, glancing over at you to make sure you were decent. "Sorry," he whispered, but you just grinned. Then his eyes fell to the half wrapped presents on the floor.

"Wait! Don't come up-" he called out as he heard her skipping up the steps. Joel grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, closing the door behind you both just in time.

"What? Why?" Sarah asked, then froze when she saw you. She looked up at Joel, then back to you, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"Ohhh..." she said with her hands on her hips. "Now I see."

"N-no, it's not what it looks like, she was just helpin' me wrap some gifts," Joel stammered, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You shifted your weight nervously as you looked back and forth between them.

"Then why are you missing a button on your shirt?"

You both glanced down at his flannel, and she was right. He missed fixing a button in all the chaos. Your face flushed beet red as you stared at the ground while Joel hurriedly fixed the button, cursing under his breath. When you dared to look back up at his daughter, she was smirking playfully at you. Joel cleared his throat.

"Sarah, this is-"

"Yeah, I know, I remember from the party. The pretty dress, right?" she asked, and you nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Nice to see you again," you said awkwardly.

She nodded, still smirking and looking at you and Joel. You could tell she loved catching her dad in this uncomfortable situation.

"Oh, crap. I forgot. Uncle Tommy is waiting for you in the driveway, said he needed your help unloading some work stuff out from the back of his truck," Sarah said.

"Ah, dammit, alright. You okay for a couple minutes?" he asked you, eyebrows raised.

"Of course," you said. He nodded, walking down the hall past Sarah, muttering "be good" to her as he walked by.

You listened as Joel made his way down the stairs and out the front door, leaving you and Sarah in silence, still staring at one another.

"I'm sorry, we really were wrapping gifts," you assured her.

"It's okay," she said with a shrug. "Last year he used duct tape on my presents, I know he needs the help."

You giggled, causing her to laugh, as well.

"Do you play an instrument?" you asked, just noticing the case on the floor next to her feet.

"Yeah, violin. I had practice after school today," she said, picking it up.

"Oh, cool. I played piano growing up, but I was never any good," you said, sliding your hands in the back pockets of your jeans.

"I have my school's Christmas recital on Friday," she said. "My first solo."

"Oh my god!" you said, clapping your hands together, genuinely impressed. "That's incredible! You must be so excited!"

"Yeah, at first, but now I'm getting nervous," she said, glancing down at the case in her hand. "You wanna hear me play?"

"Duh. Absolutely," you said with a grin. Her eyes lit up and a huge smile spread across her face again.

"O-okay. This is my room right here," she said, turning to her right and opening the door. "Sorry it's messy, my dad's gonna kill me."

"It's totally fine," you said, walking in and sitting down at the edge of her bed. You glanced around the room as she set up her music stand. On the pink walls, she had posters up of her favorite bands with a calendar and string lights draped across the room.

"I really like your room," you said, squinting to look at the stickers and drawings she had on her headboard.

"Thanks," she said sheepishly. "My dad let me do whatever I wanted."

You were about to comment on the various trophies she had on her windowsill when Sarah spoke again.

"Just so you know, I don't mind that you're seeing my dad."

Your eyes shot up to hers in surprise, not sure what to say. You hadn't really had a chance to talk to Joel about your relationship and how that would affect his daughter.

"He's been in such a good mood this past week, and he won't tell me but I know it's because of you," she said, pinning you with a familiar brown gaze.

"Oh, that's so sweet, Sarah," you said, finally finding your voice. "Thank you. That means a lot."

"You're welcome," she said. "I just want him to be happy again."

You dropped your gaze to your lap, your chest tightening at the thought of Joel being so lonely all these years.

"Me, too," you whispered, still looking down. Sarah regarded you for a minute before slapping her palms against the tops of her thighs and leaned down to pick up her violin.

"You ready?" she asked. You looked up and nodded, giving her an encouraging smile and sat back to listen as she began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of 'Silent Night'.

Sarah got about halfway through the song when she hit the wrong note and abruptly stopped, dropping her chin to her chest in frustration.

"Hey, it's okay," Joel heard you say softly as he walked back up the stairs. He paused at the top, right outside Sarah's room to listen.

"It's okay to make mistakes. Just go slower, take your time. Anything worthwhile takes time," you told her, and he smiled when he heard his earlier words to you repeated back to his daughter. He took a step forward to lean against the doorframe and watch the two of you, your back to him as you sat on her bed.

"Okay," Sarah said, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes before lifting the violin to her chin and starting over.

Joel listened to Sarah play the same song he's heard a million times already in just the past month alone, but kept his eyes trained on you. The way you gave her your full, undivided attention and encouraged her with a smile or a thumbs up when she would glance over at you shyly made his chest ache.

When Sarah successfully finished the song with no mistakes, you jumped up from the bed, clapping and cheering for her, making Sarah giggle and hide behind her hands.

Fuck, this was going to be so hard.

"Dad?" Sarah asked the next morning over her bowl of cereal.

"Yeah, baby girl?" he replied, frowning as he pulled his bread from the toaster. He sucked his fingertips into his mouth, trying to bring some relief to the quickly reddening skin.

"Can your friend come to my recital tomorrow?"

Joel froze, his fingers still pressed against his tongue as he slowly turned around to look at her. He dropped his hand and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," he replied.

"You don't think she would wanna go?" Sarah asked, her eyebrows pinched together.

"No, it's not that, I'm sure she would," he said, trying to find the right words.

"Then what's the problem?"

Joel sighed and picked his mug up from the counter, then walked over to join her at the table.

"She doesn't live here, baby. She's goin' back to New York in another week or so, I don't want you gettin' too attached," he finally admitted, watching Sarah closely as she considered his words.

"Well, you guys like each other, right?" she asked, and Joel smirked.

"Yeah, but it ain't that simple."

"Yes, it is, Dad," she said, rolling her eyes and dipping her spoon back into her bowl. "My friend Katy was dating this guy last year and he switched schools over the summer. They're still together, it doesn't matter," Sarah said with a shrug, taking a bite of cereal.

If the topic didn't fill Joel with a sense of dread, he would have chuckled at the comparison, but instead he just sat there quietly, watching his daughter as she finished her cereal and scrolled on her phone.

Sarah pulled on her backpack and was sliding on her sneakers to catch the bus when she called back to Joel over her shoulder.

"Just ask her, okay? Please, Dad?"

Joel sighed, hanging his head between his shoulders and paused his hands over the dishes in the sink.

"Alright," he relented, and he heard Sarah clap her hands behind him before slamming the front door shut.

You: good morning :)

Joel Miller: Good Morning, sweetheart. I didn't think you would be up this early.

You: couldn't fall back asleep. What are you doing

Joel Miller: Just getting to work. Why couldn't you fall back asleep?

You thought about it for a minute from under the pile of blankets on your bed, rolling to your side before answering.

You: I was thinking about you...

Joel Miller: Good thoughts, I hope?

You: VERY ;)

His throat went dry when he opened the text. He glanced around outside his car window, making sure he was still the only one on the job site before replying.

Joel Miller: What are you trying to tell me, baby?

You smirked and bit down on your lip.

You: I was wishing you were in bed with me right now

"Shit," he muttered to himself, glancing around once again before adjusting his pants.

Joel Miller: Me too, what are you wearing?

The answer came back almost immediately.

You: nothing

He groaned and rubbed his palms roughly over his face.

Joel Miller: You're killing me, baby. I have to get working in a minute.

You: i'm sorry ;)

You: I promised my parents I would go to dinner with them tonight, but are you free tomorrow?

Joel took a deep breath, trying to clear the onslaught of inappropriate thoughts from his head when he remembered his promise to Sarah.

Joel Miller: It's Sarah's recital tomorrow night. She asked me to invite you this morning, did you want to go?

He nervously chewed his cheek for a moment before sending another text.

Joel Miller: No pressure, I can tell her you're busy.

He sent his second text right as your reply came through.

You: I would love to!

He grinned and raked his fingers through his hair. Tommy's knuckles tapped on the outside of Joel's window, making him jump. He held up a finger before sending you a quick answer.

Joel Miller: Sounds great. I'll pick you up. Try to go back to sleep. Dream of me.

Joel opened the door and slid his phone in his back pocket, a stupid grin etched across his face as he joined his brother in the half-built storefront they were working on.

"Oh man, you got it bad," Tommy said with a chuckle when he saw the look on Joel's face.

"Alright, what do you think of this one?" you asked Cassie as you stepped out of the bathroom modeling the sixth dress of the day.

"I liked the red one better," she said, glancing up from her phone.

"Are you sure? This one is a little more chic," you said, twisting around to look at your backside in the mirror.

"It's a high school recital, Buck. I don't think anyone is expecting 'chic'," she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

"Well, I just want to look nice, is all," you said, sitting next to her on your bed in a huff. You tapped your phone screen, frowning when all you had was another text from Sydney and nothing from Joel. You opened it up anyway, curiosity getting the best of you.

Sydney: OMG!!!!!!

You sent back three question marks and locked your phone with a sigh.

"You still wanna get together next week so we can look at apartments online for you?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said sadly, looking out the window.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you told her. "Just not ready to go back yet."

"Could that be because of a certain sexy contractor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Shut up," you smirked, tossing a pillow at her lightly.

"Ooo you like him! Lookit how red you're getting!"

"I'm gonna kill you when that baby's out, you know that, right?" you giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Cassie said, looking back down at her phone as the smile slowly faded from her face. "You know you don't have to go back, right?"

"What do you mean? My job is there, my life is there... everything is there," you replied. "Of course I have to go back."

"What life, though?" she asked, and you frowned at her. "Seriously, Buck. Aside from your job, which you hate, what's left?"

"Well, my friends are there. And I don't hate my job that much. I mean, everyone hates their job a little bit," you said with a shrug.

"Is this what you expected to do when you were in college? Is this what you wanted?" Cassie pressed, sitting up on the bed. "Are you even happy?"

You paused, letting her words roll around in your head for a moment.

"Well, I mean..." you trailed off, not sure how to answer her question.

"If you have to think about it this long, I think you know the answer," your sister said quietly. You groaned and rolled off the bed.

"I'm going back. I have to. I can't just give up because some guy broke my heart," you said, turning around so she could unzip the back of your dress.

"I'm just saying, think about it," Cassie replied. "I wouldn't hate it if my child's aunt was in their life more than twice a year!" she called after you as you shut the door to the bathroom.

Joel eagerly jogged up the porch steps and rang the doorbell, very aware of the camera this time while he fiddled with the cuffs on his dark red button down shirt. He heard high heels clicking on the other side of the door and the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, which quickly vanished when you opened the door and he saw the dress you were wearing.

"Hi," you said with a shy smile, pulling a soft looking white cardigan on over your shoulders.

He thought he had greeted you. He could have sworn he said something, anything, that didn't make him look like a complete idiot, but apparently nothing came out because you scrunched your eyebrows together when you saw his face.

"Are you okay?" you asked, pulling the door shut behind you.

"Yeah, it's just - Jesus, you look so good," he managed to finally say, tilting his head back to stare up at the roof of the porch for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"Thank you," you said with a giggle. "You don't look half bad, yourself."

He rubbed his forehead, exasperated and flustered before pulling you quickly into his arms and latching his mouth onto yours with a groan.

"Joel," you pulled back breathlessly with a small smile and leaned your head to the side, trying to silently remind him of the doorbell. His eyes raked over you hungrily before shaking his head and pulling you back into a deep kiss.

Fuck the camera, let them see.

You giggled against his mouth, causing him to smile and break the kiss.

"Come on, I wanna get good seats," you said, rubbing your thumb over his lower lip to wipe off your lipstick that transferred. It caused his stomach to clench. That sweet, little intimate gesture made him ache for more so badly that he could hardly breathe.

He walked you around the front of his truck, opening the door and giving you a hand so you could hop onto the seat, the gorgeous red dress you were wearing hugging your curves just right and distracting him to no end.

On the walk around to the driver's side, he mentally scolded himself, reminding himself over and over that tonight was a big deal for his little girl and he needed to stay focused.

As he drove down the street, he realized that his hand instinctively found yours across the seat, his body craving the warmth and softness of your own. How on earth was he going to go back to the life he had before, now that he knows what it's like to bask in the heat of your touch?

Once he got to the school, he found a parking spot and jumped out of the truck. You had figured out by now that he preferred you to wait so he could open the car door for you, so you did. Swinging your legs over the side of the seat, you slid down into his waiting arms, your hands gently coming to rest on the tops of his shoulders. He gazed down at you with his arms loosely hanging around your waist. You saw his adam's apple bob in his throat while he let himself get lost in your warm, beautiful eyes. You lifted a finger from his shoulder, tracing an invisible line down the side of his cheek as you stared up at him with your plush lips parted so invitingly that it made his knees weak.

"Joel! Hey!" Tommy's voice called out from behind, snapping you both out of the moment. Joel sighed and untangled himself from you, taking your hand and leading you forward so he could shut the door before turning around to find his brother.

You could see the family resemblance immediately as Tommy approached you with a wide grin. His hair was a bit darker and a lot longer, and his beard was less full than Joel's, but he had the same soft, brown eyes that you had grown to know and love.

Love? Oh, no.

"Hey, Tommy," Joel said as he got closer, his hand pressed firmly on the small of your back. "This is-"

"Oh, I know who she is. How're you doin', darlin'?" Tommy asked, pulling you into a bear hug, taking you by surprise.

"I-I'm good," you squeaked shyly once he released you. "Nice to meet you."

"I've been dyin' to meet the little lady who's got my brother all wrapped up," he replied with a grin.

"Tommy!" Joel seethed warningly at your side, but you just giggled.

"I'm just messin' around. She knows that, right?" he said, shoving his hands in his coat pocket and rolling on the balls of his feet. "Supposed to snow next week, can you believe it?"

"Yeah, I heard we might get a couple feet," Joel said, steering you toward the doors to the auditorium. "Better get your shovel ready."

You settled in between the two brothers as you found a decent spot in the fourth row. Joel draped his arm around the back of your chair while he chatted with Tommy about work. You inadvertently leaned to the side and rested your shoulder against his chest as you glanced around the room, admiring the lit up garlands around the windows and Christmas trees on the stage with fake presents underneath.

When their conversation died down, Tommy pulled out his phone and began scrolling through social media, holding it low between his spread knees with his chin tucked into his chest.

Joel tilted his face forward to press his lips on the top of your head, breathing in a deep and contented breath. A small smile played across your lips as you turned your gaze up towards him, resting your cheek gently on his shoulder. He looked down at you with a smile and planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, and as each of you slid your eyes closed for a moment, Tommy angled his phone to snap a quick picture, smiling to himself and making a mental note to show his brother later.

The lights dimmed and you all straightened up in your seats. You listened to the music teacher make a small speech at the beginning and politely clapped afterwards. You saw Sarah twice throughout the concert as part of the orchestra, smiling at how focused and beautiful she looked in her white dress. As the concert wound down, Sarah finally came out on stage for her solo, and the three of you eagerly leaned forward. At the last minute, you remembered to pull out your phone and start a video, telling yourself you were doing it for Joel so that he could be in the moment, but you knew you would end up watching it by yourself when you went back to New York City.

The performance was flawless. When it was over, the three of you lept up from your seats, cheering, jumping and clapping, making her wave and blush as she exited the stage. You sat down, giggling, as the people surrounding you gave you all polite smiles and chuckles, then quieted down for the finale.

When the lights came back up, everyone stood from their seats, murmuring and laughing while waiting for their kids to come out from backstage and take pictures. You saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye and moved out of the way just in time for Sarah to run and jump up into Joel's arms, burying her face in his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, his arms wrapped around her tightly, murmuring praise in her ear. You felt warmth spread across your chest as you watched them have their moment, the corners of your mouth turned up into a smile with your hands clasped together against your chest.

He let her down gently and she turned to give Tommy a quick hug. He spun her around, making her giggle and fidget with her dress before she turned to you.

"You came!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist. Your eyes widened in surprise, not expecting such affection from her, but you quickly returned the hug.

"Of course I came! Thank you for inviting me," you said, pulling back with a grin. "You were absolutely perfect, I took a video, I'll send it to your dad so he can show you later."

"I did exactly what you told me, I slowed down and took my time," she beamed, and it gave you a new feeling deep in your chest that you never felt before.

"That's great, Sarah," you replied, your throat tight with emotion. Tommy dropped his gaze from you and ticked his jaw to the side, finally understanding why Joel was hesitant to let Sarah know about the two of you.

"Dad?" Sarah asked, turning away from you. "Can I sleep over at Katy's? She's having a bunch of girls over and her mom said it was okay."

"Uh, sure, baby girl. Don't you need clothes and stuff?"

"I have stuff I keep here in my locker for gym," she said.

"Well, alright, lemme talk to her mom first," he replied, glancing around the room.

"Thank you! She's right over here," she said, grabbing his hand. "Thanks for coming!" she called back last minute over her shoulder to you and Tommy, and you both smiled and waved as she dragged her father across the room.

"She's so talented," you said, turning to Tommy. He looked down at you and gave you a weak smile.

"Yeah, she's somethin' else," he said with a nod. "Hey, listen. I'm havin' a get together next week at my house. Little Christmas party, I guess. I invited a guy I met at your parents' house - Josh? He's comin' with his wife, Joel and Sarah'll be there, I'd love for you to come by if you can."

"Josh is my brother in law," you clarified for him. "That sounds great, I'll be there, thank you."

"You're welcome," Tommy said, then his brows pinched together as he opened his mouth again to speak. "Joel might kill me for sayin' this, but you gotta know how happy you've -"

"Ready to go?" Joel asked, sneaking up beside you. Tommy cleared his throat and gave his brother an innocent smile.

"Yep," you replied, dropping your hand to find his at your side, lacing your fingers together and giving him a gentle squeeze.

After saying goodbye to Tommy, Joel slowly led you through the parking lot to his truck, desperately trying to think of something else you could do, not ready to drop you off yet. He knew the time you had together was coming to an end, and he wanted to soak up every precious second. Especially after the way he saw you with Sarah: so warm and sweet and patient. He couldn't remember the last time he saw his daughter's eyes light up that way.

He prided himself on being a good father since his wife left. Always making sure to put Sarah first, that she got everything she could ever want or need. Especially his love. When his ex abandoned them, he made sure Sarah got every ounce of love he had, hoping it would help make up for the loss. But as hard as he tried, he could never fully fill both roles. There were just some things that a mother provided for her daughter that Joel couldn't give.

He didn't realize it until he saw you with Sarah earlier that night, and then it felt like everything shifted into focus for the first time in his life.

He held out his hand to help you get back into his truck, making sure your legs were safely tucked in before he gently shut the door.

Sitting in the driver's seat gripping the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead for a moment in complete silence, the keys still in his coat pocket while his mind reeled.

"Is everything okay?" you asked timidly. He blinked and turned to you.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He swallowed and looked at his watch.

"You wanna get coffee or somethin'? I know it's gettin' late but I'm sure some place's open," he said, deep in thought as he considered the cafés nearby.

"Don't you have coffee at your house?" you asked shyly. His eyes snapped up to yours and he saw the flush creeping up your neck and the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Oh.

"Yeah, yes," he croaked, nervously clearing his throat. "Let's do that. I have- yeah, good idea," he stammered, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.

You smirked as you watched his shaky hand turn the key in the ignition. He twisted around to back out of the parking spot, and this time you gave into temptation, unbuckling your seatbelt so you could slide over and tuck yourself under his arm. He immediately pulled you closer, not even caring that you weren't wearing your seatbelt. He would make sure to drive safe. Nothing could possibly ruin that night. He wouldn't let it.

At stop lights, you would run your hand up his chest and plant small kisses against the corner of his mouth, filling him with a radiating bliss he never felt before.

Once you got back to his house, you shrugged off your sweater and trailed behind him as he made his way into the kitchen. You leaned against the wall and watched as he opened one of the cupboards - the one with the small birds carved into the bottom - and pulled down a can of coffee.

"I don't think I have any decaf," he said turning to look at you.

"I don't want coffee, Joel," you said lowly. He swallowed roughly and put the can on the counter.

"What d'you want, then?"

You pushed yourself off the wall and slowly walked towards him, his eyes skating up and down your body as you approached. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tilted your face up to gaze at him, your mouth hovering over his own.

"I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as your lips slotted against his, his rough hands immediately coming up to cup your smooth face, holding you firmly against his mouth. Christ, he would never get tired of kissing you. If he could do it every single day for the rest of his life, he would. He knew it seemed crazy. He knew you just met, but he couldn't help the way you made him feel.

"Let's go upstairs," you whispered, nipping at his lower lip.

He couldn't speak. He just nodded in a daze and let you lead him coyly up the steps, then turned around to walk backwards down the hall towards his bedroom so you could pull him tightly against your body. His big hands gripped your waist while his tongue slipped past your lips, searching for its mate.

You reached behind you blindly, your hand fighting with the doorknob as his big frame caged you in against the wood, his masculine scent invading your senses and making it difficult to think. Finally, the door swung open and you both stumbled in, a giggle erupting from your throat as your fingers got to work undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

You hurriedly tugged his button down off, leaving it in a heap on the floor as you slid your palms underneath the white t-shirt he had on, feeling the warm skin of his stomach and chest for the first time.

"Off," you whispered, your heart getting stuck in your throat when he yanked the shirt over his head, leaving his upper body completely bare to you. Your mouth went dry as you drank him in, then lunged forward, your lips brushing up his sternum until you reached his collarbone. You sucked on a bit of tanned skin there with a moan, then slipped your tongue out to press wetly against the red mark you left, feeling drunk off the taste of his sweat.

He gently pushed you backwards so he could ease you down onto his bed, his breath growing erratic and desperate with each little bite you left on his chest. God, has anyone ever desired him this much before? Has he really been missing out on this his entire life?

"Baby, we're gonna have to stop soon if you don't want this to go any further," he murmured. He found himself in the familiar position of hovering above you while his hand slid down your leg and toyed with the hem of your dress.

"I don't think I can take much more, tell me to stop," he whispered when you didn't answer, running the tip of his nose softly against your cheek.

"I don't want you to stop," you gasped as his fingers slipped underneath your dress. You tilted your head back and moaned when you felt his fingertips brush against the damp fabric of your panties.

His mouth hungrily devoured the exposed cleavage of your breasts, growing frustrated with the fabric of your dress keeping him from seeing all of you.

"Sit up," he demanded, leaning back and pulling his hand from between your legs. You obeyed, and he made short work of your zipper, pulling it all the way down so you could shimmy out, leaving you in just your underwear.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered when he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You let yourself fall back gently on the bed, spreading your arms out above your head so he could see every inch of you in the moonlight.

He couldn't believe this was actually happening. He kept waiting for his alarm to go off and reality to slap him across the face, but it never came. His heart was pounding so fast, he was sure you could hear it as he leaned back down and nibbled at your exposed jaw while his calloused hand cupped your soft breast, his thumb flicking over your hardening nipple.

You scraped your nails over his shoulders and down his chest as you arched your back, pressing into his hand, needing to feel the heat of his skin against your own. Your stomach flipped as you made your way down to his belt, and with shaky fingers, pulled hastily at the leather.

Yanking the belt through the loops with one swift motion, you flung it across the room, making him chuckle against your skin. When you started to work on popping open the button on his dress pants, a devastating thought suddenly occurred to him.

"Shit, wait," he said, putting his hand on top of yours. You frowned up at him, your chest heaving, as you gave him a confused look.

"I don't have any protection," he said through gritted teeth. He hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut angrily. "I-I haven't been with anyone since my ex, and I never thought... fuck," he said, clenching his jaw.

You weighed your options for about half a second before tugging his chin up, forcing him to look at you.

"I'm still on birth control," you told him, searching his eyes. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it, we don't have to," you said, but in your head you were chanting please, please, please.

"Are you sure?" he asked, panting for air. "I don't wanna make you feel like -"

"Yes," you said, cutting him off by grabbing his face. "Yes. I'm sure, Joel. Please," you whimpered, pulling him back down to you, his mouth crashing down on yours again.

"Please," you whispered again, tipping your head back as his lips left a trail of soft kisses down your throat. "Please, Joel, I need you."

His mouth stuttered against your neck. Hearing you beg and say you needed him when he never thought he would ever be needed like this in his whole life made his mind go blank.

"Okay," he rasped. "Okay, baby."

He tugged at the zipper on his black pants and pulled them off as quickly as he could without leaving you. You reached down to help him, hooking your fingers over the band of his boxers and shoving them down. He kicked them off before yanking down your panties, dropping them on the floor next to his clothes.

You eagerly spread your legs so he could settle his hips between them. You glanced down with a small gasp when you saw the size of him and you felt your cheeks flare. Jesus Christ.

He didn't seem to notice your reaction when he was too wrapped up in staring at the wet heat between your legs, pulsing and waiting, just for him. He slid a finger gently between your folds, making you moan and your back arch. Fuck, he loved how responsive you were to his touch.

He readjusted so he was kneeling between your legs. His palms slid up your calves, past your knees and to your inner thighs, pressing them down into the mattress so you were spread wide.

He lined himself up at your center, glancing up at you quickly to make sure you were ready. You swallowed and nodded, your eyes filled with desire, desire for him, something he still couldn't fathom but decided not to question. He pressed forward gently, notching himself against you before falling forward on his elbows.

He kissed the tip of your nose as he eased himself inside you, pausing when he heard you gasp and felt you tense under him.

"More," you finally croaked, your nails coming up to rake against his scalp. He let out the breath he was holding and pushed in further, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth falling open as he felt you slowly stretch around him so perfectly, like you were made just for him.

"Oh, god," he sighed, dropping his face to the crook of your neck after he fully sheathed himself inside you. He dragged his mouth across your chest, leaving a wet trail from his tongue and red marks from his scratchy beard in his wake. He waited until he felt your muscles relax under him before he slowly rolled his hips, dragging himself in and out as his teeth scraped over your tightening nipples. You moaned his name softly, the sound permanently etched in his brain, a sound he will refuse to forget for the rest of his life.

He began to roll his hips faster at your encouragement, becoming obsessed with the way you felt and the sounds you made, and it was all for him. He spent so much of his life giving to everyone around him, he never truly felt like anyone was able or willing to give him what he needed in return until now. The recognition was depressing and freeing at the same time. Now that he finally had what he always wanted, what he always needed, he was going to lose you and there was nothing he could do about it.

Each moan from your throat and each kiss from your lips dragged him down deeper and deeper until he collided head first with the stunning, yet so painfully obvious, realization that he was deliriously in love with you. It was insane, he knew that. But it didn't make it any less true.

"Joel," you gasped, pulling him out of his trance and back to the present.

"Yeah, baby? I'm here. I'm right here," he whispered, planting soft kisses all over your face.

You bit down on your lower lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The sheer intensity behind his gaze coupled with the agony of only getting to experience this for one more short week made tears burn in the backs of your eyes.

You felt your orgasm begin to swell deep in your belly while your breath became more ragged and your vision went spotty. It shouldn't feel this good. This was cruel, to be able to experience something like this just to have it brutally ripped away from you. It wasn't fair, yet you never wanted it to stop.

He could feel it. It's been years, and it was never, ever like this, but he still knew. The way you whimpered and clawed at his back while your walls squeezed him so tightly, he thought he might pass out.

"Open your eyes," he panted. "I wanna look at you."

You forced your eyes open, now unable to hold back the tears that pooled there as two drops trickled down the side of your face, getting lost in your hair.

"It's okay, I got you," he whispered lovingly, staring deep into your eyes, seeing everything you didn't dare say out loud.

"You can let go, baby," he told you, his hips snapping against you ruthlessly, desperate to come at the same time.

You felt the wave rip through you like fire, the power and emotion behind it unlike anything you ever felt before. More tears poured from your eyes as you cried out his name, your thighs squeezing his hips so tightly you weren't sure you would be able to stand after.

He followed seconds later with a deep groan, spilling himself deep inside you while murmuring praise and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

"Why're you cryin', did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice filled with so much concern that it broke your heart. You shook your head, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand, but fresh ones just took their place.

"C'mon, talk to me," he urged, leaning up a bit as he softened inside you.

"What are we gonna do, Joel?" you blubbered pathetically. He took a shaky breath in and tenderly tucked your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know, baby, but we'll figure somethin' out. We gotta," he said with a sigh.

"I can't lose you," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his and closing your eyes.

"You'll never lose me, I can promise you that," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against your swollen lips.

He waited until your tears slowed down before sliding out of you with a hiss. Rolling off to your side, he wrapped his arms around your middle and pulled you close against his chest, and as you finally drifted off in his embrace, he thought about all of the options available before you, determined to find a solution.

Tag list: @lola8888673 @pedropascalsbbg @nandan11 @sushiumex @serenadingtigers @jjlevin @survivingandenduring @amyispxnk @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @merz-8 @wonyoungismind @fandomscollide @anoverwhelmingdin @cayleejx16 @msjjekyll @lizzie-cakes @hexedbywanda @harriedandharassed @joeldjarin - lmk if i missed anyone, if your name is crossed out it means it won't let me tag you

[highdefhoetry]

no escape.

summary: sylus hunts you down.

cw: nsfw!! female reader, predator/prey, chase/capture, mild primal, tickling, biting, ass spanking & pussy spanking, getting fucked from behind, penetration (penis in vagina), unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare (hinted at end). this one gets kind of intense & has a little bit of cnc vibes, read at your own risk!

a/n: i hope you enjoy the second installment of my degenerate knismo series. if anyone needs me i will be passing away dfksjfjk

You dart through the dark hallways, darting in and out of the shadows as you search for another hiding spot while doing your best to suppress your rapid breaths. Your heart pounds against your ribcage, but you do your best to maintain a level head and still the panic jolting through your veins.

Another night. Another unfair game proposed by your sadistic host in the N109 zone. Sylus had promised to accompany you on an important mission if you succeeded in evading him, as long as he didn’t catch you before the time was up. 

It sounded simple enough. This mansion was huge, and you had gotten high scores in the stealth portion of the hunter’s exam. 

You thought it’d be a breeze. 

You thought wrong.

You couldn’t shake him, no matter how far you ran or how many hiding places you found. The dining room. The study. The washroom. The main entrance. He found you every time, chuckling in that low baritone while calling out to you in the dark.

“You’ve got to do better than that, kitten…” he’d say, his voice followed by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

But time was almost up. If you could just hang on for a little longer…

You duck behind one of the sculptures in the hallway and glance at the watch on your wrist. 11:47. Thirteen more minutes, and you’d be victorious. 

A few minutes pass in silence. Still no Sylus. You start to get the feeling that something is wrong. He hasn’t made it easy this entire time you’ve been playing his game, so why did things suddenly get so quiet? Was he trying to usher you out, get you to lower your guard under a false pretense of safety? He was a big fan of tricks and mind games. This could be one of them.

You soon get your answer. 

Your eyes look back at your watch to check the time. Five more minutes. You were so close, you could taste victory on your tongue. You start thinking about how you’ll brag about besting him, but as soon as the thought comes to mind-

“...Boo.”

You let out a shriek and jump back, almost knocking over the sculpture in your attempt to escape from the disembodied voice that’d just whispered in your ear. It’s him. You can sense his foreboding presence even though you could barely see. 

A pair of deep crimson eyes begin to glow in the inky blackness of the room. You turn tail and run.

You’re past the point of logical reasoning. Your instincts have taken control of your body, and your instincts say run. Your legs move faster than your thoughts, stepping in tune with the rapid beating of your heart. 

But it’s not enough. He toys with you, chuckles into your ear as he closes in. You feel his body press against your back, sense his large hands wrapping themselves around your neck and waist before he finally takes hold of your frame. 

“Got you.”

His tone drips with arrogance. You can practically see the smirk creeping across his face. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so focused on trying to break free of his grasp. He’s taken hold of your arms and pinned them behind your back, and now he’s forcing you to your knees. Soon, your face is pressed against the floor, and you’re barely able to wiggle. He’s straddling your thighs, admiring the view of your bum as its forced into the air.

“What a shame,” he leans down to gloat, his breath tickling your ear. “And to think, there were only a couple minutes left until you succeeded.”

“That’s not fai- aaaaahhh!”

His teeth sink into your neck, and your words turn to shrieks. It’s not enough to break skin, but feeling him drag them across the sensitive area is enough to make you squirm. With one hand still holding your arms tight, he uses his free hand to snake his fingers under the hem of your shirt where he can access your helpless waist. His nails claw at your ribs, forcing laughter from your lips. In your current position, there’s little room to even wiggle. 

“That’s right… keep struggling,” he croons,  lips brushing against the shell of your ear. He hikes up your skirt, gives your ass a firm smack, then yanks your panties down with enough force to rip them. He spanks your pussy, then rubs your swollen clit before testing your wetness.

“S… stop…” you manage to squeak out before he starts tickling your side again. You scream with laughter while he taunts you.

“Still not wet enough, that won’t do…”

You curse yourself for letting him discover your turn ons so easily. His expert hands dance across your skin, digging into sensitive areas seldom touched by others. They sneak under your arms, prod at your ribs, skitter over your stomach while you squeal, cry, and giggle. It’s too much, having him take advantage of you in this position. Every now and then he stops tickling to give you another spank. First your ass, then your pussy. You cry out each time, a mix between a moan and a gasp. 

After tickling your stomach for a minute or two, his fingers return to your pussy to feel for your wetness. You’re soaked now, enough to satisfy him. There’s a brief sound of shuffling you can hear behind you, followed by the sensation of something pressed against the opening of your hole. 

It’s wide. Even just the tip of his cock feels like too much. You part your lips in protest, but the words get stuck in your throat.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he finally lets go of your arms, only to wrap his hand around your neck. “I’ll make it fit.”

He pushes himself inside you, and your cries of pleasure echo through the empty hallway.

Sylus fucks you hard and deep. He starts off slow, shoving his cock as far as it will go before pulling out carefully, taking note of the pathetic noises coming out of your mouth. Then, when he senses you’ve warmed up to it, his strokes become faster, rougher. One hand presses down on the back of your neck, keeping your head in place. The other crawls up and down your side, forcing you to giggle in between moans and thrash around helplessly. That seems to make him harder; his dick pulses inside you with every movement you make to try and escape. Even with your arms free, you’re powerless to shake him off. The dual sensations of being fucked while getting tickled mercilessly have put you in overstimulation hell.

It continues like this for a while. Sylus has monster-like stamina. His hand never leaves your side, although it wanders to your hips and digs in the creases there, and burrows under your arm to torment the weak spot there despite your efforts to protect yourself. You’re unable to anticipate his movements, being stuck facedown while he’s fucking the living daylights out of you. And God, does it feel good, having his thick cock pushing itself into your tight walls…

Some time passes before you’re suddenly filled with a comforting warmth. He lets out a long, gravelly groan, gasping for air as his cock pulses. Your hole is filled with his cum; you feel it dripping when he pulls out and sets you free. You lay on the floor limp, too exhausted to move after the hours you’ve spent running and the intense fucking he just put you through. You hear a shuffling of clothes and a quick zipper, then feel a cold hand brush against your face. You keep your tired eyes closed until you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

Sylus carries you bridal style with slow, careful steps, holding you close to his chest like something precious and delicate. Your eyes flutter open and meet his gaze. There is a surprising amount of warmth and affection in his expression when he speaks to you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, glancing down at you with a soft smile. “I think my little prey has earned some pampering.”

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh still nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 4k (approx. 18 mins to read)

Posting date: October 15, 2024

Notes: Wow this next update came very early. Really loving writing this couple so much. Btw, winner of this poll is written in and will be appearing in succeeding chapters. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Masterlist

It’s not like you’ll miss him (you’ve told yourself that repeatedly)—there’s just something in the atmosphere that feels off today, is all.

The truth? It was just you. Everyone else is counting down the seconds, ready to bail and do whatever gets them through the weekend. But you? You wanna stretch the day out a bit more, if it means spending a little more time with him.

You received an email from Hyun-woo earlier, informing you that Yoongi is leaving for his two-week basic training camp. The news dropped into your inbox like a stone, and ever since, a funny weight has settled in your stomach, refusing to budge.

By 5 p.m., the office has thinned out. The soft hum of the a/c is the only sound left in the room. You’re absently adjusting the tiny plant on your desk when you notice him hovering nearby, one hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, the other stuffed into his pocket. 

“So, um, I’ll be gone for a bit,” he mumbles, voice low and a tad raspy. His eyes flick to yours, just for a second, before darting away again. He pokes at the leaves of your plant, as if it suddenly piqued his interest.

“I know,” you reply with a playful pout, trying to keep things light. “You’re just abandoning me here with all this work, huh?”

A tiny smile quirks up the corner of his lips, but something in it feels distant, like he’s keeping some emotions at bay. “Yeah, sorry. You’ll survive, though.”

“I will.” You look away with mischief on your lips, clicking X on some of the windows in your computer. “Besides, I hear Jeon Jungkook—you know him, right?—is dying for a transfer here. I might just say yes.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and you catch the quick flare of something—annoyance, maybe?—before he huffs out a breath. His mouth curls into a half-snarl, half-smirk. “Wow. The body isn’t even buried yet.”

You’d laugh, but the sight of him pushing his tense fingers through his hair as his tongue skirts the edge of his bottom lip apparently has your pussy on speed dial. Why is that single action so goddamn sexy? You blink, quickly shaking the thought from your mind before it escalates.

“I’m just playing,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair to put some distance between your thoughts and his presence. “You take care of yourself, loser.”

He hesitates for a beat, his fingers resting on the edge of your mouse pad, close enough to yours. There’s something happening, curious and charged, but before you can make sense of it, he bites his lip and nods.

And, of course, he says the one thing you promised yourself you would do anyway. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Your heart skips a beat, but your lips form a straight line, pretending you didn’t feel it. “I won’t.” The words come out too quickly, too light, as if you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.

The door closes softly behind him, but the space feels bigger, emptier without him there. You sit back, staring at the spot where he stood moments ago. The quiet settles in, heavier than before, and you can’t help but notice how different the room feels already.

It’s fine. You’ll barely notice he’s gone.

Except… you do notice.

The first few days pass in a blur of silence and monotony. Your office feels out of sorts without him, like something’s missing. His desk remains untouched, where he orphaned a pair of Galaxy earbuds and a relatively normal-sized black tumbler compared to yours.

You tell yourself it’s just the routine that’s off—that’s all. But then you find yourself thinking about the way his mouth always hangs open when he’s concentrating, or how the other day he tripped over the trash can that the cleaning lady keeps moving around and suddenly you have this goofy smile on your face.

The next Monday, you catch yourself looking at the door, waiting for the familiar sound of him coming in, and the realization burns you like the cheap-ass Tequila you had in college: you do miss him.

You groan internally, pressing your fingers to your temples. Great. Just great.

Actually, not great. This is fucking bad. Like violating a multi-million-won NDA bad.

You gotta keep this unspeakable thing locked airtight in the recesses of your brain. Your Youtube and Naver browsing history will definitely betray you so you need to clear that shit A-SAP. Chae will never out you, but you might want to have another convo just for your peace of mind. And finally, you need to put a stop to the friendly-flirty thing you have going on with Yoongi. You had your fun, but it’s time to stop.

Of course that’s easier said than done. Not when two weeks was up, the sight of Yoongi made you almost drop to your goddamn knees.

You didn’t recognize him at first. His hair is gone. Well, mostly. The buzz cut threw you off. So did the round metal-rim glasses. You blink, trying to process the change, but your brain has officially malfunctioned. 

Is this really him? You verify through the name patch on his shirt. Min Yoongi. Daegu. It read. It really is him, and you are no longer yourself.

“Hey,” he says with a small grin as he approaches you.

“Hello,” you manage, eyes fixed on him, still. The glasses. The buzz cut. Shit. He looks ridiculously cute.

Yoongi drops something on your desk—a small bag. You glance at it, then at him, but he’s already walking away, back to his desk like nothing happened.

Tangerines. It’s a bag of tangerines. Maybe 7 of them.

Your chest tightens in the strangest way. You know tangerines are his favorite fruit as he shared during one of your coffee breaks, but the fact that he brought them for you as he returned from bootcamp? Why does it feel so… personal?

You really want to keep your distance and protect yourself, but this man acts like an angel and looks just like heaven—so you don’t stand a chance at all. You’re going straight to hell. Or jail.

Later that evening, you practically burst through your apartment door, your mind still reeling from the sight of Yoongi with that stupidly cute hair cut. Chae is already in the kitchen, humming as she slices what looks like gimbap.

One look at you, and her eyes narrow with curiosity. “What’s up with you? You look manic.”

You toss your bag down and place the bag of fruit on the counter before you flop onto the couch. “He’s back.”

“Who?”

“You know who,” you groan, burying your face in a pillow. “Yoongi.”

Chae immediately perks up, abandoning the knife to focus on your conversation. “Oh? How is he?”

You point to the citrus. “Those are from him, by the way.”

“Wait, wha—aww his favorite and he brought you some? And he got you seven? Oh my god…” Chae swoons as she rummages through the plastic, picking up one of the plush oranges to sniff it.

“How’d you know it's his fave? And so what if it’s 7?”

Chae places the fruit back in the plastic and exhales dramatically as if she was exasperated by your questions.

“Every self-respecting ARMY knows about Yoongi’s tangerines obsession. And there’s seven of them in BTS,” Chae explains pointedly, before crossing her arms. “Babe, if you’re going to be his girlfriend, you gotta know these things.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes and lie back on the cushions so she’s out of sight.

“Wait…” she says, rounding the kitchen island to lean over the couch by your feet. “So Yoongi’s back. Why do you look a little… unhinged?”

“Ok,” you start, leaning forward and resting your weight on your elbows. “He came back with a buzz cut. And glasses. Like, really cute glasses, Chae. Granted it’s the same ones those fuckbois in Hongdae always wore. But he looked… ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. Like it suits him. It’s so nerdy, but… sexy. His face is so like…” You drop your head back down on the pillow and sigh.

She shakes her head. “You got it bad, bro.”

You sit up again, glaring at her, but it’s useless. “Fine. Okay, fine. I have a crush. Happy now?”

Chae cackles, going back to her chopping board with way too much enthusiasm. “I knew it! You’ve been soft for him since day one.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what to do about it. He’s my co-worker.”

“And?”

“And he’s a goddamn idol. Plus, I signed that NDA.”

Before Chae could even react, your words continue to spill out from the leaky bucket that was your brain.

“But like, Chae, he got me a whole bag of tangerines. The fuck is that? And he made me a latte—said he made too much by mistake, but I know the machine, there’s literally only one setting. And there’s this look. And when he smiles. Like, I don’t know, like…” Hell, you can't get more words out, because you know you legitimately sound insane. Is Min Yoongi, rapper, producer, billionaire, actually giving you the time of day?

Chae nods, completely unbothered by your spiraling as she chops the kimchi on the board. “Uh-huh. So, when’s the wedding?”

“Not helpful!” you groan, throwing yourself back down onto the couch and covering your face with the throw blanket. You know she’s teasing, but it’s starting to feel too real.

“Look,” you hear her muffled voice from under the cloth. “I'm honestly super jealous right now, don't get it twisted. But I'm really, really excited for you. And not just because he is my bias wrecker, but because you haven't been excited over a guy in like forever.”

You stay mum as you process her words.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes.” You pull the blanket away and sit up to look at her.

“Let the chips fall where they may…” she declares as she sprinkles sesame seeds on the gimbap with a flourish.

“That's vague as hell.”

“Listen, you are a smart, capable, smokeshow of a woman. You've got very weird cardigans, but thank god you wear a uniform.”

“Rude?!”

“It seems that he wants at the very least a friendship with you, so just have fun with it,” Chae winks, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “You’ll know when to make a move.”

You stare at her, feeling your face heat up. “Oho I’m not making a move. I’m just… acknowledging the fact that I might be into him.”

She laughs, her spoon waving in the air. “Aight. Good luck with that, then.”

The steady click of your keyboard echoes through the dimly lit office, the glow from your screen casting long shadows on the walls. It is well past 9 p.m. and the office is virtually empty. You are deep into your report, fingers flying over the keys, when the door to your office opens.

You startle but not by much, removing your earphones that were filtering lo-fi music that usually helped with your concentration. 

Your visitor leans against the doorway, sharp eyes lingering on you. Work uniform gone, he sports a branded black shirt and black pants, a gray beanie hiding the fuzz you have been obsessed with for days.

“Still at it?” he asks.

“Yeah. Told you I was gonna try to get this done after hours,” you say, flashing him a tired smile. “Thought you left.”

He seems about to say something, but he pauses, glancing around the room before his gaze settles on his desk. He moves toward it, clearing his throat.

“Ah, yeah. I did,” he says, his voice casual, almost too casual. “But then I realized I forgot my earbuds.”

He plucks the pod case from the table, holding it up with a little shrug. “Couldn’t exactly leave without these, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t you leave those here for, like, two weeks when you were at bootcamp?”

Yoongi’s grin flickers—just for a second—but then it’s back in place, lazy and effortless. “Must’ve missed them this time.” He slides into a chair beside you, settling in like he has no intention of leaving.

Curious. Very curious. He is not about to waste his Friday night to be in this office with you. Or is he?

“So I have an idea that might make tonight more… interesting.” He declares, setting his bag down against your desk.

Before you can ask what he meant, he stands up and disappears out the door. A few minutes later, he returns, a mischievous glint in his eye and a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. 

You sit up straighter, eyes wide. “Yoongi, where the hell did you get that?”

“Hyun-woo’s stash.” His grin was impish as he set the bottle down between you. “He gave me keys to his office.”

“I don’t think he gave it to you for this purpose,” You gape at him, disbelieving. “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.”

He shrugs, looking entirely unfazed. “It’s after hours. Nobody’s around. Besides…” He glances towards the CCTV camera in the corner, then reaches for a small box on top of the filing cabinet and slides it in front of the camera’s view. “Oops.”

You can’t help but laugh at his boldness, shaking your head. “You know I signed an NDA about working with you, and now you’ve got me breaking the code of conduct? You’re trouble, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi beams as he twists the cap off the bottle. “Yet here you are enabling me.”

You raise an eyebrow, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a sip. The wine was surprisingly decent for something hidden away in an office drawer. Some fruity red that went smoothly down your throat. As you pass the bottle back to him, you fish through your desk drawer, pulling out a bag of cheese crackers and mini pretzels.

“See, enabler,” Yoongi remarked, gulping from the bottle before shoving a piece of pretzel in his mouth.

“Your tshirt says you’re the ‘mastermind’ though,” you point out.

He glances down on the print of his shirt and nods, “That I am” before he presents you the gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

You fall into an easy relay after that, taking turns with the wine bottle while you continue to type away your report. Meanwhile he takes out his laptop and perches it on the side of your desk so he can work beside you on what seems like a personal project, perhaps a song. But you can’t ask because the NDA states you are not allowed to ask him anything about BTS or his music career.

“How’s the deck coming along?” Yoongi asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’ve got the wireframe done. Just need to fill in the details.” You glance at his screen. “You seem busy.”

“Yeah, I’m reviewing materials for a documentary about the last tour,” he says, letting out a long sigh as he slouches further into his chair.

You hum in response, biting your lip, holding back the questions dancing on your tongue. NDA, remember.

He must notice your hesitation, because he waves his hand dismissively. “I know the contract says you’re not supposed to ask about music, but it’s cool. You can ask.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, “Do you miss it?”

Yoongi turns his head slightly, meeting your eyes. You clarify, quieter now, “Making music. Being with the others.”

He doesn’t answer right away, picking at his lip. There’s a pause, long enough that you almost regret asking.

“Yes,” he finally says, voice low. “And no.”

You wait, sensing there’s more.

“Yes, because it’s music,” he continues, leaning back. “It’s what I’ve done my whole life. It’s where I feel… alive, you know? Like everything clicks into place when I’m creating. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m in it, everything makes sense.”

His words pull at something in you—the way his voice changes when he talks about it, that quiet intensity he wears so well. But then he looks down, fingers tracing the cork of the wine bottle.

“But no, too,” he says, softer. “This is the first time in years I’ve been able to step back. To just be… normal.” He glances up, a small grin touching his lips, the kind that never quite reaches his eyes. “It’s weird, right? But it’s freeing.”

You’ve never been an idol, but you can imagine the pressure of always being watched. You tilt your head, curious. “Freeing how?”

He shrugs, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I get to slow down. Figure out parts of me I didn’t have time for before. Meet new people. Like you.” The way he says it is casual, but your heart does a little cartwheel.

“I’m not locked in the same cycle—touring, writing, performing. I love it, but sometimes… It's a lot. Now, I can just breathe.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. You can see how much music means to him, but there’s something grounding about this version of him—without the spotlight, without the expectations.

“Does that make sense?” His voice lightens, like he’s suddenly aware of how much he’s shared.

Your lips quirk a bit. “Yeah, for sure.”

He gives a small nod, almost imperceptible, before reaching for the bottle again, taking a slow sip. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, his tone slipping back into something more familiar. “I’ll be back at it soon. But right now… this isn’t so bad.”

For a moment, his eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something there—something deeper, quieter. It’s a side of him you don’t see often, a side that’s relieved to step away from the noise, even if just for a while.

His gaze makes you think of your own life, your own lack of direction. You shift slightly, glancing back at the document in front of you.

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Yoongi says, his attention shifting fully to you as he shuts his laptop.

You hesitate, nibbling on a cracker, not sure why you’re even about to say this out loud. “I don’t know… sometimes I wonder how I got here.”

Yoongi’s brow lifts, and you feel the heat of his gaze on you. “Here?”

“At this job,” you clarify. “It wasn’t really part of the plan. But somehow, I’ve stayed. And now it’s been years.” You laugh a little, but it feels tight, almost self-conscious.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice steady, as if he’s urging you to go on.

You sigh, glancing down at your hands. “I guess… a lot of people around me, they have these big dreams. They’re doing things that sound so… important. My best friend Chae, she’s working in this Michelin star restaurant, on her way to becoming head chef. And I’m just… here. Still figuring things out. Shouldn’t I want more?”

The words slip out before you can catch them, and suddenly you’re left with that familiar weight in your chest, the one that sneaks up on you late at night when you wonder if you’re not doing enough. It feels silly now, admitting it out loud.

Yoongi stays quiet for a beat, thinking, his fingers tapping the wine bottle lightly. When he speaks, his voice is low, thoughtful.

“Not everyone needs to have some grand dream to chase. Sometimes, just doing what makes you feel steady is enough.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by how easily he says it. There’s something honest in the way he looks at you, like he’s sharing a truth he’s only just come to understand himself.

“There’s no rule,” he adds, “that says you have to follow everyone else’s path. It’s okay to take your time figuring things out.”

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a quiet comfort. “You really think that?”

Yoongi nods, leaning in just a little. “Yeah. Some people chase after their dreams because they think that’s the only way to prove something. But sometimes… just living and finding what makes you feel steady is enough.”

His words strike deep, but they’re simple. You smile, feeling warmth uncurling in your chest. And you know it’s not just the wine.

“Thanks,” you murmur, offering him the bottle, your fingers barely holding on.

He takes it, and when his hand brushes yours, something tightens in your stomach. You let go without a fight.

Yoongi leans back, that smirk tugging at his lips again—like he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having. “If you get fired for this, at least we’re going down together.”

Your laugh slips out softer than expected, probably because he’s so maddeningly calm. Like he’d still have that cocky mouth even if the world was burning.

You both reach for a pretzel at the same time, fingers grazing his. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing casual, but inside, it’s like an electric shock.

He doesn’t pull away right away. His hand lingers for a second—just long enough to make you notice. That twitch at the corner of his mouth is lethal.

You chuckle, but it feels hollow, like you’re trying to shake off the sudden flutter in your chest. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Yoongi laughs, low and quiet, and it does something to you. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he doesn’t move it. “You don’t seem too bothered by trouble.”

It’s a quiet sort of ambush. Nothing pushy, just… unexpected.

You glance up and catch him staring—not at your eyes, but your lips. It’s barely a second, but it makes your pulse spike like he’s just yanked the ground out from under you.

You shift in your seat, trying to play it cool, but there’s a hint of something else, something daring. Your gaze drifts to his lips, wondering, for a split second, what he’d taste like if you were bold enough to just go for it like Chae had said.

But… no. That’s insane. You could definitely get fired for that.

He’s still watching you, face neutral, but his cheeks are flushed, a pink stain that gives him away.

“You good?” you ask, keeping it light, teasing.

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking away. “Just warm.”

The way he yanks off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair shouldn’t feel like a whole damn striptease, but here you are, heart pounding, as if you’re witnessing something way more scandalous than him adjusting his hair. The tips of his ears are red, so maybe he is more affected than he lets on.

“Yeah, it is kinda warm.” You fumble for something to do with your hands, tying your hair up into a messy bun. You don’t think much of it, until you catch the way Yoongi watches, gaze lingering a second too long on the bare skin of your neck. He’s not subtle about it, either. His lips part, and suddenly, it’s like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.

The look he is giving you is devastating. Fuck.

The way his tongue drags across his wine-stained bottom lip is downright diabolical. It’s a subtle motion, but it hits with cutting precision, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how it’s affecting you. And you know he has this down to a science at this point, being an idol, and knowing how to bring fans to their knees. 

“Trouble,” you mutter, shaking your head. It’s not just teasing anymore. It’s acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that you both know what’s happening.

He licks his teeth, smirking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, trying to ease the tension. “Can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”

And by this, you both know you’re not just talking about this night, but all the moments leading up to it. Leading up to these new feelings you haven’t fully unraveled.

“You like it,” he teases, taking another swig, feline eyes locked in on yours a second longer than necessary, like he’s daring you to deny it.

Welp. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re starting to.

Maybe you already do.

A/N: So what do we think? Tell me what you liked about the chapter and what you want to see in the next ones!

Btw y'all really wanted JK in this one so I had to write him in. Personally, I was imagining Seungcheol (my Daegu bbs) and initially had him in the drafts, but Woozi would've been comedy gold, too.

Next chapter is half-way written haha who am i?! Look forward to 1,000 words about Yoongi's large, veiny hands. Who's down?

Chapter Three >

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

@perfectiondazesworld @wobblewobble822 @yoongznme @caressesurloceanlove @rinkud

@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Let me get this right,” the villain said. Their smile was all teeth. “Your plan included an undercover operation in which you tried to infiltrate the supervillain’s facility. You succeeded and started working for them. You hacked into their system, got the information you needed but the supervillain started liking you a little too much. And now you need my help to fake a relationship?”

“Well, if you put it like that, it sounds a bit pathetic,” the hero answered. They were currently sharing a wine bottle with the villain in their office. It had been a long day and the hero wasn’t too keen on even more conflict.

Two weeks ago, the villain had told them that they’d figured out their identity.

That had been alarming. The hero had acted fast, had given the supervillain their resignation.

Unfortunately, the supervillain had basically been on their knees, begging them not to quit. They’d offered them more money, their own office, new tasks, less tasks, less work days, more breaks.

That was pathetic, too.

Even more unfortunately, the hero’s original excuse wasn’t good enough to say no to the supervillain’s offers.

“And I don’t think they’re…in love. They’re either lonely or I’m a pretty good asset,” the hero continued. “Either way, it would be nice to have you as a backup.”

“A backup?”

“Yeah, to be on the safe side. So if they ask me out on a date, I can tell them I’m in a relationship.”

The hero tilted their head. The wine had made them a little dizzy and the villain looked a teeny tiny bit too good right now.

“Believe me, a partner is not an obstacle for the supervillain.” The villain crossed their arms. They looked as exhausted as the hero felt.

Spending that much time around the enemy was…dangerous. The hero found them more and more entertaining. The villain was easy to talk to when they didn’t try to murder them.

“Exactly my thoughts. That’s why I asked you. Do you seriously think the supervillain would risk the stability of their own hierarchy? You’re more than capable to beat them in a fight. And together? We might be unstoppable if we actually started agreeing on a few things.”

“I like how you worded that.” The villain smiled and for a moment, they looked a little lost, as if they were imagining it all already. Their eyes went over the hero a couple of times until they focused on the hero’s. “You flatter me.”

“I’m stating a fact.”

“What’s in it for me, then?” The villain’s voice was deep and calm. As if they were deeply content with the situation.

Their hair was messy. Their eyes half-lidded. God, the hero should’ve said no to the wine.

“If we could somehow eliminate the supervillain, you’d be the next top predator in the food chain,” the hero argued. They shrugged. “If you’re nice, you can keep that position for quite a while.”

“A little corrupt, no?” the villain asked. They were sitting next to the hero on the couch, quite close actually, the hero realised.

Right now, they feared, the villain was their weakness.

“A problem I can deal with later. Right now, the supervillain is part of an illegal organ-selling business and I need to stop them. Stopping you can be my futures self’s problem,” they said and the villain laughed softly as response. They put their arm on the backrest of the couch. Their finger touched the hero’s back slightly but the hero doubted it was intentional. Their brain couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“You’re quite confident, hm?”

“I’ve known you for longer.” The hero leaned in, their face close to the villain’s. “I know your little secrets.”

The villain played along, smiled and their gaze dropped to the hero’s lips.

“Not all of them, dear.” The hero leaned in even closer but the villain’s hand landed on their thigh and squeezed gently. “Before you seduce me, I still have questions.”

The hero pulled back.

“Oh? Haven’t you edged me for long enough now?” Again, the villain laughed before they responded. It was a sweet sound, something the hero needed more of.

“First: why shouldn’t I tell my boss who you are? Us being in a relationship means that you’re in my business.” Their smile was undoubtedly of playful nature. The hero liked a challenge.

“Well, you don’t wanna be a subordinate forever, do you? The supervillain keeps you at their side because they’re afraid of you. You’ll be the new leader if we get rid of them.”

The villain nodded slowly.

“Good. Second: if you want to find out more about them, why aren’t you just dating them?” the villain asked.

That was a little more difficult to answer.

“Uhm, well…They’re not my type.”

The villain raised their eyebrows.

“Oh? Well, that leads me to my last questions already: am I your type? Why did you choose me? There are enough scary villains you can walk around like your dogs but you chose me. Why?”

The hero could only blush. Fuck, the villain could be really direct if they wanted. Along with the flirting and the teasing, the hero was quite aware that the villain wanted a confession, a true explanation as for why the hero had chosen them.

Because, truly, the hero had hoped for an opportunity like this.

And unluckily, the villain had seen right through it.

“Look, this organ-selling thing is really bad.” The villain checked them out yet again. But they didn’t push further. The hero assumed they loved the teasing a little too much.

“Mm. Oh, yes, yeah. I get it, I get it. Don’t worry about it.” This time, the villain leaned in, close enough for them to kiss but they only let the hero’s heartbeat go crazy. “I’ll think about it, hm?”

[bitchesgetriches]

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[farshootergotme]

A while ago I was talking to my friend about Dick's adoption and as we talked they said, and I quote, "Actually I'm convinced that deepened his insecurities and his self worth more hence that boosted his needs of showing self worthiness in order to get Bruces approval overall; and NOW BECAUSE Bruce adopted him only when he's like fully developed into his own character and showed enough self worth, that became his new mindset typa thing" and that changed my whole perception of it.

Because, yes, it was already bad enough that it took so long for Dick to be adopted. That messed with his insecurities a little bit. But I never considered how adopting him only once he seemed to be truly succeeding could be interpreted (subconsciously) as "you've proven your worth and this is your reward" as if he had to earn his (official) place as his son.

Why not before even though he'd been Nightwing for years by that point? Going from this perspective, it would be because Nightwing to Dick means detaching himself from the Batman. It means starting his own journey and thus leaving Bruce behind, which means he needs to prove now that he is good enough to be on his own; that this independence isn't just a whim.

And then Jason happens and the relationship is just not very good between them during that time, so it's not wonder he hadn't adopted him yet even though he did adopt Jason. And then Jason dies and it's even worse so definitely that wouldn't be the right time for the adoption. Dick still hadn't proved to Bruce he was good enough to be adopted because if he had he would've adopted him soon after the conversation they had about it.

And a couple of years go by and Bruce finally adopts him and their relationship isn't falling apart and maybe he's good enough for it, and he's happy. But then, one would start to wonder, 'what changed? Why did I have to wait for so long to get this? What had I been doing wrong before?' Bruce knew he wanted to be adopted, so what's that triggered this seemingly sudden decision?

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 4: Pushing the limits

genre: mostly fluff... with a tiny bit of angst because I just can't not write angst LMAO

word count: 5861

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: for once, you have a good day. and you feel untouchable. until, that is, you're not.

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

author's note: sorry for the delay on the update, but it's finally here! I'm excited to see this story evolving! what are you excited about with this chapter? Let me know in the comments! <3 if you want to join the taglist for this series, please let me know in the comments!

It’s weird to think that once upon a time, you lived in New York. 

You had always loved the city in all its might. A lot of people complained about the grey, tall buildings, but you used to think that the colour suited you. That the lifeless of it all didn’t really matter, because life was all over New York City. The bustling of the people, the voices and languages mixing in every block, the smell of food from the falafel carts in every corner; sure, the city was dead, but my god were the people alive. 

You were alive, back then. 

So much so that you think you might have attracted the dead, because the night you met Josh was a night you felt invincible. You felt like you had enough power in you to light up the entire grid of the city that never slept, so when he approached you, with his light blonde hair and bright blue eyes, you were up for the challenge. Even your friend was impressed when you didn’t coil away from his eager hands, and maybe she regrets it now– maybe she curses herself for not pulling you away from him, for not stoping you when you left with him. Maybe she hates herself for what she let you do back then, but the truth of the matter is that even if she had tried, you don’t think she would’ve succeeded.

Josh was different than most guys you knew, but that didn’t mean much– your aversion to human interaction had always plagued you when it came to romance and friendships. Alas, you found your similars; you met people who loved book just as much as you and you found your place with a selected few. You didn’t mind, not having all that many friends when you had an amazing handful instead; they were all loyal, understanding, and kind, much like you. 

Meaning that Josh wasn’t. But you didn’t know that at first, too blinded by the flowers, and the expensive dinners, and the beautiful gifts. Whenever you remember them– the moments, the memories, the things– you’re washed by a sense of shame and embarrassment unlike anything else you felt before. You’d like to stand up for yourself and deny it, deny all of it, say you’re not materialist like this, but that would be a lie. You are a bookseller, for crying out loud. A collector. For you, mementos mean something; the feeling of something familiar in your hands, be it the weight or the texture or just the shape, enough to bring back moments that are long gone in the hands of time. Objects and souvenirs are the next best thing you have to a photo album of memories that can’t be captured by a camera, and you are not ashamed of it. 

What you are ashamed of was how easily you fooled yourself for him. For Josh. It was all those damned fairytales you’ve read growing up, it had to be. Or maybe it was his friends and their comments of how perfect you two were together. Whatever it was, it had to be something. You’d hate to believe that you were shallow enough to endure him on his worst days just because of the things he gave you on his good days. 

Naturally, Josh was a much more extroverted personality. Keeping up with his social life was exhausting. Every night there was something to do, a dinner, a party, a meet-up. And those weren’t all that fun, either, though you learned to fake it pretty well. During these public appearances, you let yourself believe that yes, you two were this amazing power couple. You allowed yourself a moment to push away from all the regret and just enjoy the small things– the touches, the fleeting kisses, the loving nicknames. Because you knew that once you got home, all of that would fade and disappear until the next event you’d be forced to attend.

The question that most people asked was why did it take so long for you to leave him, why did it have to be that bad before you allowed yourself to go; and the answer was always the same: you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you stayed with him, you don’t know why you loved him, you don’t know anything except the fact that you did– you did stay, you did love him, you did everything you wished you hadn’t. And it still led you to that night, to that rotten smelling taxi, to you crying in a red eye flight, to you landing, lost and hurt.

Because that night might have been the first time he laid his hands on you, but you doubted it would be the last. And it was up to you to do something about it. 

————————————

“Y/N? Are you up?” 

It’s a rhetorical question more than anything– you’ve been awake all night and Spencer knows. He blinked awake with every twist and turn, and in the morning, when his alarm went off, you were stiff on your side, trying to pretend you’re asleep. 

This has nothing to do with him. Last night, things ended in a positive note. After he showered, he came to bed to find you still wearing his FBI hoodie, and the smile on his face was enough to have you smiling too. You fell asleep to the sweet sounds of him reading you The Illustrated Man. Ray Bradbury is a common name in your guys’ conversations and it’s cute how he spends almost fifteen minutes looking for one of his books in the mess that are his shelves. According to him, they used to be alphabetised by author’s last name, much like in your store, but because of the time you’ve had in there, things have gotten a little… messy. You have a habit of reading different things at the same time and Spencer finds that adorable, even if it breaks his system with how you leave books scattered around the house.

“Yeah,” You call back, meeting his eye when he pops his head through the door. His hair is pointing in all directions, and you can smell food coming from the kitchen. “Are you cooking something? Spence, you said you don’t cook, what are you doing?” 

“I’m a thirty year old man,” He said, laughing at how you push the duvet away so desperately you trip on it to run to where you assume the fire is. “Careful! Oh my god, Y/N, you’re breaking my heart here, I’m not burning anything!”

It’s not your fault that your mind immediately goes to the worst case scenario. From all the stories you’ve heard, all the ones that ended in disaster were set in his kitchen. “Spence, you could’ve woken me up,” You shake your head when you see that he actually just made toast with butter and jam. “I would’ve made you something to eat.” 

“You’re not my maid,” He says, standing behind you with his hands in his pockets and this is when you notice– he’s wearing sweatpants. Previously, when he was sick and you brought him medicine, he was wearing casual clothes too, but you were too busy fussing over him to fully appreciate the beauty that is Casual Spencer. His grey sweatpants and crumpled white t-shirt are enough to have you blushing and averting your eyes. In your store, he is excited. At home, he is relaxed. Those are two different things in the best of ways. “And I wanted to… talk.” 

Immediately, you have alarm bells ringing in your head and he notices it. It’s kind of funny, how you learned to read Spencer while he is reading you– you know when things set him off when his eyes widen a little, like a little tell he does every time. Maybe you’re better at this than you think, proud of yourself when he immediately waves his hands in the air, a desperate gaze in his eyes making you snort. “No, no, no,” Words fall from his lips a bit too fast for you to not trip up on them. “No, it’s nothing like that! It’s nothing bad, I just want to know how you’re doing and… check in on you.” 

“You want to check in on me?” You shouldn’t sound this enamoured, and you hate yourself for it. For the first time, you two are having an open conversation about what is happening and you want to make sure you’re present and paying attention.

“Of course I do,” His mumbling is barely audible from the living room, but when he yelps ouch and turns around with a plate of toast and coffee, you hear him loud and clear. Words mean a lot for someone like you, someone who lives off of them, but actions might just mean more because of who they are coming from. Because of his shy nature, when Spencer is direct and a bit more abrupt, it means something– it means that he is angry, or happy, or emotional, or dedicated. You like that he is dedicated about this; about you. It’s selfish in nature, but it’s true– him making you breakfast, him fussing over you, him trying… it’s all just Spencer’s way of showing that he is serious about this, and you don’t mind one bit. “Here you go. Eat up.” 

Instead, you show him you’re serious too. You smile, and wait until he has grabbed his own food and joined you on the couch, to start talking. “Spencer, thank you,” You whisper, looking down at the little space that keeps you two apart as a reminder: things might be getting better, and they might be on the mend, but there is still a long way to go for things to get great. 

Surprisingly enough, though, it’s quite easy to forget about Cat Adams when she’s not harassing you with unwanted gifts or letters, and it feels quite powerful to do so. Just like how easy it was to forget Josh when he couldn’t call you anymore, or touch you anymore, or scream at you anymore. What felt like the weight of the world on your shoulders now is simply the touch of a butterfly, floating away as soon as the moment of overthinking and anxiety is done. Some days, it lasts longer than others, and those are the bad the days. But on the better days, the ones that you are able to busy yourself with your store, your crush, your family; yeah, those are the days that Josh and Cat simply can’t get to you. 

Today is a better day. 

Hell, you might even dare to say that today is a good day, and more and more, you realise just how rare they are. So for today, you don’t allow the ghost of past and future lives to haunt you. For today, you’ll enjoy the blessings of the present. 

“Thank you for… helping me through all of this,” You continue, sipping on your coffee to try and keep your hands busy and away from his. After you got a little taste yesterday, feeling the warmth of his palm enveloping yours, you can’t help but want more. You want more touches, more smiles, more sneaky glances. You just want more Spence, however you can have him. “You didn’t have to help me through it all like this. And you certainly didn’t have to come back in the middle of a case just because of this whole mess. So thank you. This really means a lot. You… You mean a lot to me.” 

“Y/N, I didn’t come back because of this situation, I came back for you.” 

All air is knocked out of your lungs when he says that. In a very Spencer fashion, he doesn’t say it like a confession, like it’s a secret he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. This is nothing more and nothing less than a fact, like all the many others he has told you in your year or something long friendship. He came back for you, and the Earth is round. He came back for you, and the Russian Orthodox Church excommunicated Tolstoy. He came back for you, and Plank’s constant is a fundamental universal constant that defines the quantum nature of energy and relates the energy of a photon to its frequency. 

Simple as that. 

“I came back for you,” He says again, nervous finger ripping his toast apart until there is no longer a toast there anymore, just bits and pieces of what it once was. Cleaning your hands from crumbs and butter, you gently extend your arm, wanting to show him support in the best way you know how to. But then you remember: Spencer is a germaphobe. He’s reserved and he prefers to wave rather than shake hands, and you pause, hand hovering over his in unsureness. Just as you’re about to pull away, he moves, a flash of limbs and plates that leaves you not time to react.

Spencer is fast and it actually surprises you to see the clumsy man being so agile. He takes a hold of your hand and the familiarity of it all spreads a blush through your body. Even if he had stopped then and there, giving you just this little taste of affection, you would be happy. The way your cheeks flush to that rosy tone he loves so much and never says anything is enough of a hint to how you’re feeling, and this time around, Spencer wants to push the limits just a little bit, just a little more. And it’s obvious by the way his eyes shine with a mischievous glimmer of intent, grabbing you into him until your bodies crash together. 

This is the first time you two hug. It’s the first time your arms go around his shoulder, and it’s the first time his arms hook under yours. Spence hugs you like he needs to hug you, face rubbing on your neck like he’s trying to bury it there and hide from the whole world. Like you can actually protect him, and this time, you actually think you can. Your hands move up and down his back, a soft touch for the man that hated them so much. Sadness sweeps through you when you think about little him, avoiding touches and waving from afar instead. “Spence…” You mumble, pushing away for a second to try and talk to him, but he is quick to hold you in place. 

“Stay,” The way his voice breaks off makes you hug him even tighter. “Please. I… I’m happy you’re here.” 

“Spence, what’s going on?” Maybe it’s good that you can’t really look eye to eye. Those honey orbs, always so shiny and expectant, render you defenceless every time. 

He takes a moment to answer and you know he’s thinking, the machinery in his head whirring to lifer. “When you called me that night, I think my heart stopped. I thought… I thought something had happened to you, and I couldn’t… be there. I couldn’t be here. And it broke my heart, because this is my fault. It’s my fault that you’re scared and that your entire life changed, and I’m just really sorry, Y/N.” 

That is a hard pill to swallow. You knew he was feeling guilty; you know more about Spencer than he thinks you do– but what you didn’t know was that he was feeling bad. “Spence, I’m okay. And I’m safe. All because of you. I… I’ve been doing some research, and I know this is not usually something that would take priority for the FBI, considering that besides a note, Cat hasn’t really done anything to me, and if it wasn’t because of you, I’d probably be going through all of this alone.” 

“You are a priority to me.” 

“I know that now,” You whisper, shaky fingers raking through his hair in a desperate attempt to calm him down, praying, begging, hoping  he won’t ask you to stop. “At… first I did blame you a little. Like, not blame you, but… it was like I couldn’t separate you and what was going on and I was angry and upset and I’m sorry too. I pushed you away when I think we both needed some support from each other, and I didn’t mean to make you worry even more, you have to believe me, I swear!”

You don’t know when the roles reverse, but it’s like a war of tug, sometimes you pull and sometimes you get pulled, and right now, Spencer is pulling you into his arms with the strength of a man who needs you. “No, Y/N, no no, you don’t have to apologise! This… God, this is a mess.”

Chuckling with him feels better than chuckling at him, and you take the moment to just enjoy the feeling of being in his arms with no rhyme or reason. “It really is, but it’s our mess and I think that, all in all, we’re dealing with it quite well, Spence.” 

Everything about that moment is soft. The light is trying to come through the curtains and you smile to yourself. Spencer has always been stubborn about sunlight and he prefers the apartment on the darker side, but you can’t help but let your fingers move from his shoulder, dragging the tips all the way from his shoulder, down his arm, and extending to the end of the curtain, hooking them on the corner and raising a little bit. “It’s a nice day out…” You mumble more to yourself than him. 

“Do you want to go out?” Spence asks, raising his head away from your shoulder to look at you, but you just shake your head. “What do you want to do? I have the day off today, so we can do anything you want, I swear.”

“Hmm, can we go to the store?” Sure, it’s not the most exciting thing ever, but you miss it. You miss your books that you keep in a special corner behind the counter, and you miss the deliveries that are probably pilling up with your neighbour. The question is more amusing than anything, though, because you know the answer already. 

And him shaking his head only confirms your theory. Even though you know, you’re still frustrated. “Spence, please…”

“Y/N, your house is above your store,” He does seem to be upset with his own answer, and though that does not make you feel any better, you at least know he understands where you’re coming from. “We can’t risk it right now. Cat just sent a note straight to your address, and we don’t know if she knows you own the store or not, or if she has a partner working with her from the outside, or–”

“I know, I just– I don’t want to lose my store. It’s all I have.” The way your fingers fidget, playing with each other in a familiar nervous manner that you’ve surely picked up from him, has Spencer reaching out to hold your hands with both of his. It leaves you a bit breathless to notice just how big his hands are, covering yours completely. 

“You will not lose your store. I will not let that happen. But I think this could be a good chance to maybe think about a hiring a manager or a helper for a while. Temporarily! Just until we can make sure that you are safe.” Without noticing, his thumb slides over the top of your hand, a calming back and forth that eases the frown on your forehead when you think about a stranger at your store. “Just someone to be with you when the store is empty, Y/N.” 

Logic is on his side, as usual, and although you would never consider this under normal circumstances, you are reaching a point in which there are no other options. “A couple of days ago I sold out of stock for the first time since opening the store. I’m finally turning profit after being barely able to keep the place afloat. I love my daily routine there. I can’t let her take this away from me, Spence.”

“And she won’t. But don’t you think the help will be good? With new stock coming in and the reading events you wanted to prepare, having a trusty helper will save you some stress. And we’ll have Penelope run a check on every candidate!”

“I don’t know… is it fair for me to get someone involved in… this?” He instantly knows what you mean. “Can I think about it?” 

“Of course you can. I understanding this was not in your plans, and I know you love your job and your routine and we’ll make a new one for you! We’ll create a schedule and we’ll alternate days so that you don’t have a predictable location and-and we can make it a fun thing, you know? Creating the week’s schedule, like the Sunday crossword! We could do the schedule on Saturdays and the crossword on Sundays– what do you think?”

You think this is a plan. A future plan. A future plan that is reliant on the fact of you still living in his apartment and part of you hates it, because part of you, a big part of you, wants to go home and stop feeling like such a burden to him. But then there is the smaller part of you; the part that likes waking up and hearing his hoarse voice first thing in the morning; the part of you that feels spoiled with the breakfasts in the couch; the part of you that hasn’t really been loved in a while and really missed it. That is the same part of you that swoons every time he smiles at you, and you nod, and nod, and nod. “That sounds perfect,” You whisper, looking around the living room and seeing this future he talks so much about. It truly does sound… “Perfect.”

That afternoon, he helps you write a job ad for a store manager. It’s fun doing this with him because you get a chance to pick that brain that always amazes you so much. “No, no, you should give them a feel for the store,” The way his breathing hits the nape of your neck with every word he says while reading over your shoulder makes you shiver. “Oh? Are you cold?” What you miss is the the little smile he gives you from behind, turning to quickly grab the blanket you left on the armchair to cover your shoulders.

“But I don’t want them too comfortable, it’s still my store,” You grumble, leaning back without even thinking about it. You are both by the kitchen counter, and you’re sitting on a stool with Spencer right behind you, so when you fall back, arms curling around your body and wrapping the blanket tighter around you, you fall right onto his chest. The shattered pieces of that wall you two had between you two lay on your feet, no completely gone but simply lowered; the jitters of having him so close, the anxiety of maybe having him pull away, the strong beat of his heart right on your back. It’s all there, and it all amplifies when his arms wrap around your waist. It’s too careful, the way he holds you; too light and gentle and oh so slow. You just want him to hug you like he did before, to show you more of that hidden strength he kept suppressed all the time. Spencer is not dominant by any mean, but he isn’t someone to be walked all over, either, and the more that Cat pushes you, the more you are starting to see him push back. 

And you love when Spencer push back. 

“Okay, focus!” His voice snaps you back to reality, so close to your ear and his chin digging on your shoulder. It’s cute how he likes to fit his face in the little nook of your neck, between your cheeks and shoulders, and it’s… oddly intimate. The kind of intimate that makes you tense up a little just at the thought. “Hey… I know this is a big step for the store, but I’m proud of you. It’ll be great to be able to share the responsibility of the place with someone else. A team is not so bad, Y/N.”

If he is any indication of what is like to have a partner, if having Spencer by your side and ready to back you up is a little taster of what being on a team is like, then he might just be right. “I know, I just… this is my baby, you know? I moved to Washington with a backpack and an email from the agent to lease the place and there is a lot of effort and emotional energy and money that went into this!”

“You moved to Washington with just a backpack?”

Curiosity is a natural response for a man like Spencer. He is curious about virtually everything and anything, and it makes your heart beat faster, every time, when he asks something to you. It feels like a sign of trust, that he is willing to actually learn from you, to listen to you, and to store all you say into his hungry brain. This time, however, when your heart speeds up, it doesn’t have those same palpitation of adoration, those same butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Instead, it feels like there’s a rock, heavy and cold and hard, being thrown around your gut, all sharp edges and precise hits. “I, uh,” Immediately, you want to move– you want to push your hair back or scratch the mysterious itch on your nape or rub the tension off of your forehead– but then you remember that he is an avid reader. And that, apparently, you are his new favourite book. 

You try to play it cool, hand coming back down to the laptop’s keyboard to type out some basic information on the store and the schedule. “Yeah, it was a weird time,” And that’s all you say on the subject, even if the way he squints, those molten brown eyes running over every inch of you that you’re sure he has committed to memory, tell you that he has gotten much more information than you were willing to give. “Okay, I think it’s ready?” 

He knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t care. Uncomfortableness is written all over you, from how your shoulders hunch forward to how you stick your hands between your thighs to stop them from fidgeting. Spencer is very careful of your self-awareness. He has seen you shut down before and he knows the telling signs– you pull away, withdraw back and back and back, until you disappear in the background of your anxieties. The last thing he wants is for you to not speak to him again, arms squeezing you a bit close in fear that you might just get up and leave him behind again. Having you sit on the armchair, so close yet so far while he slept in the couch next to you, had been hard. Incredibly hard. And Spencer isn’t sure he can handle that again.

So he lets it go. 

He hums, and nods, and lets you think you’ve fooled him. He lets you think that you’ve successfully whisked his attention away from the topic he wants to chat through and dissect so badly. “Looks great,” It’s cute how fast he reads the ad, and before you can overthink about it, he clicks ‘send.’ “Spence! Oh my god!”

“You weren’t going to do it,” He laughs, shaking his head and turning the stool so that you two are face to face. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“It’s okay,” You whisper, breath hitching on your throat with just how intensely he’s looking at you. There is tension between you two, strong and growing, and it’s not the first time you’ve noticed it. 

Sometimes, you think that this weird connection dates back to the first few months you knew each other. At first, it was about stupid things like what authors were truly considered cult or what were the best tropes. Banter, with Spencer, was always fun, like a little debate filled with smiles and giggles and… privacy, almost. Intimacy. It’s like every time you two talk a bubble forms around you, and no one can steal his attention. He is present, at all times, and it makes you feel like you matter; it makes you want to be present, too, happily listening to his rants and lecture with attentive eyes. Sometimes, you even pulled out a little notebook after he was gone to work, noting down the facts you’ve managed to remember, and whenever you were a bit bored, you would pull your notes out and read them over, smiling at the memories of him. The memories of him that are now locked in the drawer behind your counter. “Fuck.”

“What?”

“I need to go get some stuff from the store,” You mumble, looking up at him with begging eyes. “I know you said to keep out, but please, Spence, I need more clothes and I need my things.” 

It doesn’t take much convincing to have him ready to go, and you are almost giddy at the sight of Spencer in jeans. Everyone can, or at least they should, see beyond the slacks and the sweater vests. Underneath it all, you know there is a man who needs some tender loving– you know there are scars, maybe visible, maybe not, but it doesn’t matter. Without his tie and his button ups, Spencer is just like any other guy, and the walls come down. Right now, he is Spence, your favourite customer and the guy that makes your heart beat faster, and you kind of love that you get to leave Agent Reid behind for a day or two. 

“Let’s go, Spence!” You call, excited to get out of the house for a bit. The fresh air coming in from the open window teases you enough to have you stomping, shouting for him again. “Spencer!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” His laughter echoes in the apartment and you smiled when you see him grabbing his phone and keys. 

This is too good to be true. It has now been eight days since the initial package you received in Spencer’s name, and as much as you know his intentions are good, you do wonder if maybe he is going a little overboard out of guilt. “I’m so excited to go to the store with you again!” You shriek, going down the stairs with him in tow. You’re not really looking where you’re going, constantly turning back to look at him just to catch a glimpse of that adorable smile he tries to hold back. 

“Y/N, watch out–“ In all fairness, Spencer tries to reach for you and hold you back, but the moment your feet touch the ground floor, your body hits another with such impulse that you sway back into Spencer’s hands. “Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m–“ Turning to the person, a young woman with an expression of as much shock as yours, you immediately start to apologise. “I’m so sorry! Oh god, I’m so sorry, I–“ “Don’t worry at all,” She smiles and picks up her boxes again. “I couldn’t see because of the boxes, it’s my fault.”

“Are you moving in?” 

You know that tone of voice. It’s stored in your brain as the tone of voice you never wanted to hear again, after hours of it back at the BAU office. “Hey, come on,” You whisper, allowing him lightly. 

“Yes! I’m moving into apartment 13. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Abigail. Do you guys live in the building?”

“Oh, I uh, I’m just–“

The way he slips his hand in yours, fingers folding with yours. “Yeah, we live upstairs,” He says vaguely, slowly continuing to walk own the hall. “We’re a bit late, but it was great meeting you Abigail. See you around.” 

You barely have time to wave before he has you out in the street, phone out and ready to go. “Sorry, I just need to call Garcia for a second. Go ahead, yeah? I’m right behind you, I promise.” 

Under his watchful eyes, you take the lead in making your way to the bookstore. The sound of his shoes crackling in the sidewalk behind you is comforting. “I’m going in, just call out for me when you’re ready, okay?” 

As soon as you get inside, it’s like you’re home. The books are everywhere, and you feel their warm embrace as they whisper stories in your ears. You’re like a hurricane in there, moving around with such trained expertise that no one could ever contest that you belong there, in your sacred place. Your backpack is by the counter, slowly filling up with books you want to take with you, and you enjoy the fact that Spencer is busy to check your emails for online orders and stock. So far, no big losses have taken place and you’ve only been closed for a couple of days, but you are realistic about the future of this place and you know this cannot continue. The more you see the store suffering from all of this, the more you agree that having someone mind the place while you’re out might be a good idea. Hesitancy still swirls in your heart, but you’ll do anything to avoid the heartbreak of losing your bookshop. 

You don’t turn around when the bell rings. “Spence, I might need a couple more minutes–“

“We got to go. I’m sorry Y/N, we need to go, grab whatever you can.”

A sharp exhale escapes you like a knife just wedged itself in your lungs. “What’s going on?” 

“Officer Kaper just called for backup,” Everything is fast again, moving forward, forward, forward, and Spencer knows how overwhelming this must be, specially after the slow and soft morning you two had, but he is working on a one track mind. He needs to get you out of there. 

“Backup?” Cars honk while you two cross the street in a hurry. “Spencer, stop running, stop! What’s going on?!”

He doesn’t answer you until you’re both in his apartment, door locked and phone in hand, nervously squeezing it while he paced around. 

“Spence,” You call again, careful with how you approach him when he is trying so hard to keep control of himself. “Spence, I– What’s going on?” 

His eyes tell you everything. In those whiskey coloured pupils, you see the hurt and the pain, and you see the hesitation. One hand moves to push his hair back, frustration lacing every movement he makes, from walking to the couch and letting his body plop down to how his head hangs low. 

“He’s on his way to the hospital. His house got broken into and… we have no confirmation, but we think it’s–“

“Fucking Cat.”

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

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