#i think i forgot my point halfway down the line but. some attempt at an explanation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

im-poe-dameron · 2 years ago

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

a/n: so......it hasn't been that long since chapter ten has it? i swear i meant to pop the last four chapters out before my last semester ended. But between the chaos in my life growing each month, and my last year of college I kind of forgot about this story altogether. To be entirely honest i didn't intend on finishing it. Except here I am now on winter break and ready to finish! I swear. I won't vanish again. I have plotted out the remainder of this story and am writing chapter twelve as i post this. So the story will have an end. I swear.

I just want to say a big ass fucking THANK YOU to those who left comments on the last chapter. I literally have so many of them screenshotted and saved on my phone to re-read on bad days and that's why I'm finishing this fic. Cause i love you guys.

Also a massive thank you to @apascalrascal who beta read this chapter and to @caesaryoulater who also read it through and told me she loved it. And a special thanks to @themarcusmoreno who continues to be my enabler for everything and anything. This series included. I couldn't have done it without you guys. I think that's it! So without further ado, please enjoy this tension filled chapter of a dinner with friends.

summary: "come to dinner" poe said, "it'll be great" poe said. what a fucking liar.

word count: 10.3k+

pairing: 1980s!din djarin x fem!reader

warnings: slightly explicit (we'll get there guys), cussing, angst, fluff, lots of apologies, alcohol consumption, dry humping, poe dameron losing his will to live, poe dameron's sanity being tested, sexual tension, yelling, and some horrible attempts at comedy.

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You knew he was there before even fully waking up. The warmth of his arm was pressed into your waist, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing the hair to stand up. At one point in the night the covers had been pushed down to the end of the bed—his body being the one thing that kept you warm. Yup…you knew he was there alright. So, why didn’t you get up? Why did you burrow further into his hold—smiling slightly as he pulled you closer, his nose pressing into your hair?

There was a term used for this kind of behavior and while you’d call it self inflicted torture, someone like Liv would have used something much stronger. It’s not like you didn’t want this. You did. Fuck, you wanted more than this. But the memories from last night were still fresh in your mind, playing on a twisted loop to remind you of what he did.

What you chose.

Except you could still feel the pressure of his lips against yours, the way he’d made your head spin…just like before. You wished you could simply forget. Yes, that would make things easier—in fact it would make you feel better. You would be able to look over everything he said to you, all the pain you were put through only to come to one conclusion. Living a life without Din Djarin, was not a life you wanted. Shit, it didn’t even seem like a life you could have. So, why couldn’t you forget?

The real reason was…you knew why. You were just too fucking afraid to say it out loud.

“I can hear you thinking,” he mumbled—the sound of his voice scaring you out of your worried state.

“How long have you been awake?”

A puff of air hit your neck, his raspy chuckle following it. “Long enough to know you’re panicking.”

“I’m not…panicking.” That was a lie—you were absolutely panicking.

Between his bar being turned into literal ash, his wounded state, and the fact that you had yet to discuss what you were, you felt as if your brain was halfway through running a 5k and you were barely at the starting line. What you really needed was time to breathe. Except the thought of leaving him again splintered what was left of your already broken heart. You were connected to him—beyond what the both of you could comprehend and that’s why you stayed.

You wanted to be there.

Turning, you kept your eyes shut until you felt his arm settle back over your waist. If you didn’t look at him maybe things would be better. Maybe you wouldn’t feel like your entire world was shattered and put back together in only a manner of weeks. Maybe…you’d figure out how to finally let him back in. They were all things you had trouble with—aspects of your life you wished you could forget about. Only you couldn’t. Letting Din back in meant forgiving everything that happened and for the life of you…you couldn’t do it. You didn’t know why.

“Are you going to open your eyes for me sweetheart?”

No. The word rang in your head like an alarm bell, because you knew what would happen if you opened your eyes. You’d fall in love with him again and it would be easier than breathing; a fact that both excited you and left a thrill of fear streaking down your spine. You were terrified of letting him in again—terrified of what he’d do.

“I want to,” you whispered, eyes still squeezed shut as he ran a finger down your cheek, making you shiver. “Fuck I want you.”

“You have me.”

You felt like you were going to cry the longer you lay there wallowing in your own pain, but you needed this. More than he did. He dealt with his own pain by leaving and it took you until now to realize you never truly dealt with yours. You only shoved it to the side in the hopes that it would one day disappear like everything else you harbored. All the grief William put you through somehow amounted to all the pain Din put you through. Until one day…it combined and you could no longer discern who broke what piece of your heart.

“Do I?”

His hand cupped your cheek, tilting your head back until his nose was brushed against yours. “Sweetheart I’m yours till the day I die.”

Scoffing, you felt a tear fall down your cheek towards your nose. He caught it in time. “You shouldn’t joke about something that literally almost happened.”

“Too soon?”

You shoved his shoulder. “You think Romeo?”

“Fuck…I missed that,” he breathed, pressing his nose against your cheek, lips brushing against yours.

“I thought you hated that?” It was maddening to be so close to what you wanted, centimeters apart, and still so far away—lost to the labyrinth of your mind.

“I don’t care what you call me sweetheart. As long as it’s you who’s calling me it.”

There it was. The truth that had yet to be fully untangled from the web of your messy pasts and feelings. You’d love him through all of this; through all of the pain, because he would do the same. He’d love you until the stars died in the sky, until you were buried beneath the ground side by side—just as it was always meant to go. Fate had a funny way of twisting two people together and you were fucking glad it chose Din Djarin to be that person.

“Din,” you whispered, finally opening your eyes and meeting the brown eyes you couldn’t forget even if you tried. “Kiss me.”

The words were barely audible, a mere brush of air across his chin, but you knew he heard them as if they were shouted in his ear. Closing the gap, he pressed his lips against yours in a messy but overdue kiss. Last night didn’t count. Not when you were both in shock from what happened. No, this…this right here is what you’d call your reunion—a choice you both made in the early morning hours of the day.

You moaned softly into his mouth as his tongue slid against yours, hand digging into his hair to keep him close while his went to your hip. If there’s one conclusion you could come to after all of this it was this. Din Djarin kissed like he was running out of time. He devoured you like you’d be gone in a few seconds, forever lost to the ravages of time and knowing your reputation of the past month…he had good reason to. While he still tasted the same, you felt the difference in his hold and really everything about him.

This wasn’t him kissing you because you asked him.

This was him apologizing one more time, because when it came to Din…he’d never be able to say sorry enough times to feel okay with what his past amounted to.

So, you took all the pain and reflected it back to him. You moaned into the kiss—proving to him that this, him, is what you wanted. There wouldn’t be another choice for you; that much you were entirely sure of. His arm circled, your waist, tugging you closer and rolling onto his back dragging you with him. You still kissed him; still leaned further into his touch and licked fervently into his mouth. He shuddered as your nails dug into the nape of his neck; his hips bucking up into yours, bringing a smile to your lips.

“Eager,” you teased.

He pulled back, mouth opening to shoot back what would no doubt be an eviscerating comment, but all that came out was a deep broken groan. His head falling back into the pillow as you dropped your hips fully onto his—grinding your cunt along his clothed cock. Sex was off the table. The both of you knew this. But riling Din up drew a different kind of pleasure to your body, until you felt like you were floating as you watched him lose his mind.

“Fuck,” he rasped, eyes opening to reveal his once brown eyes now turned dark. “You’re going to kill me sweetheart.”

You shook your head, dragging your hips forward and gasping at the pressure. “Not exactly—oh—”

His hands splayed on your hips, guiding your movements as if you were actually riding him. If you imagined hard enough you could remember what it felt like to have him inside you—the stretch of him filling you completely until you were gasping for breath. Part of you wanted to have it back, beg him to fuck you into the mattress like he used to. But last night still happened and you weren’t so keen to forget about it. So, with a stuttered jolt of your hips, you stopped, shifting forward to kiss him languidly instead.

A soft moan was swallowed by him, his hand coming up to clutch the back of your neck gently—kissing you back. Only with him every kiss felt just as filthy as fucking him did. What started off slow and sweet became a mixture of spit, teeth, and tongues licking hotly into each other’s mouths, driving one another insane. You were shaking as he ran his hands down your back, the warmth of his palms seeping into your t-shirt covered skin. Fuck, you wanted more than just kissing him. You wanted all of it. The romance, the love, the sex.

You wanted him.

Except the tiny—almost minuscule—amount of doubt continued to ring in the back of your head.

The door to your bedroom opened swiftly and you jolted back, nipping sharply at his bottom lip enough to draw a small amount of blood.

“Breakfast is ready if you two are done fucking,” Liv said rushing down the hall before the pillow you threw could actually hit her in the face.

Din fell back onto the bed, his hands still on your hips as you remained on his lap. If you could locate your camera, you’d take a picture of this sight—placing it right beside the polaroid of him in the record shop. But after your breakup you gave it to Poe to keep, making sure that you didn’t have it around to break when you broke down again. The sunlight broke through your half opened curtains, casting a glow along his face, causing him to look ethereal. It was a wonder he truly didn’t see what you did—always shying away from the compliments you gave him.

“Are you hungry?” you asked, shifting to clamber—rather ungracefully—off his lap.

You didn’t catch the way his eyes opened, taking in your half bare form, his erection still pressing painfully along the tight confines of his jeans. “Yeah,” he murmured, the taste of you mixed with copper still stuck on his tongue.

“Liv makes some good pancakes.” You grabbed your own jeans, shoving them on to look at least semi-presentable.

When in reality you would much rather lock the door and ride your ex-boyfriend until he couldn’t think straight. Shaking your head you attempted to rid yourself of those thoughts. Liv would see them a mile away and you refused to give her the satisfaction of knowing you were so in love it hurt. You willed away the spark of heat that began to stir in your stomach that only seemed to grow the longer he stared at you from where he was sitting—half naked with dark eyes that kept you frozen in place. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful version of yourself. When merely you were sporting a messy look as you fought against the arousal burning low.

None of that mattered to him though.

You’d known that the second you finally set your heart on letting him in. He only wanted you—in whatever form you took, whatever way you looked—he would take it in a heartbeat.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you said, glancing away as he stood to his full height, moving forward to cup your chin. “It’s distracting.”

“Good,” he replied.

A swift kiss was pressed to your lips; a broken sound leaving your throat as he cemented the arousal in your mind—reminded you of what it felt like in the early days of being with him. It was hard to believe so much time had passed between the two of you. When in reality it felt like years had gone by in a blink of an eye. Leaning forward you pressed against his bare chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms as he continued to kiss you slowly…deeply.

“We have to…” Your eyes fluttered open to see him sporting a small smile on his face.

“Breakfast?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes we have to do that.”

“C’mon sweetheart.” He slipped his singed shirt back on, his eyes glancing at the burned spot on the corner of it.

You knew it would take time to recover from what happened for the both of you. His bar was his home; the one place he felt completely safe, and now it was gone in the blink of an eye. Going back to it would be a difficult feat in itself. One you’d done before him, and one you’d be glad to help him in accomplishing.

The kitchen smelled like pancakes and coffee; the scent filling your nose when you walked out. Liv was pouring a cup of coffee as surprisingly Poe cooked eggs with Finn watching over his shoulder—most likely to make sure he didn’t burn them. You hadn’t expected them to show up here, but knowing the debacle from last night, they probably had nowhere else to go. The door swung open, Paz traipsing in behind the woman you recognized as his girlfriend. He carried a grocery bag overflowing with food, her hands holding onto a different paper bag.

“Djarin!” he exclaimed, dropping the groceries unceremoniously on the counter, not bothering to see if they stayed upright. “We stopped by the bar.”

Just the mere mention of it caused Din to sit up a little straighter from where he was at the table, a cup of black coffee in front of him. “The damage?”

“Extreme.” Paz snatched a pancake off the plate in front of Liv. “The bottom half is burned to a crisp, but we managed to carefully get inside and your apartment didn’t take the brunt of the damage.”

“So all his stuff is still there?” you asked. If his place wasn’t burned entirely that means he still had his belongings, at least half of a home. You figured that was ten times better than no home at all.

The woman nodded. “Well…for the most part. The kitchen took the majority of the damage.”

“I can live with that,” Din said, glancing at you.

“This is Thyra by the way,” Paz replied, gesturing at her. “She’s been a part of us since the beginning.”

All the times you’d been to the bar and seen there, you couldn’t believe you’d never officially met her before. She was beautiful, standing tall in her heeled boots and long dark hair that draped over her shoulder in a braid. The symbol on her leather jacket was one you’d seen before; the sign of a Mandalorian—or at least that’s what Din told you before everything happened. Smiling, you stuck out your hand. If she was a part of the family that Din made for himself then you would welcome her with open arms.

“I’ve seen you before at the bar,” you said.

She nodded, her dark eyes practically sparkling. “It’s nice to finally meet you…sweetheart.”

Heat spread up your neck and into your cheeks, the hot coffee not helping even as you sipped at it. Had Din introduced you that way to everyone? Or was that merely the name they heard the most when it came to you? Her smile told you it was the latter, but her eyes told you something else and you weren’t sure what to believe. You felt his arm snake around your waist, the weight of it pressing lightly into your stomach as he pulled you closer to where he was sitting. Just that movement alone calmed the slight embarrassment that filled your veins. However, it did nothing to cease the racing of your heart. Thyra’s eyes flicked to him, a smile stretching across her lips as she no doubt teased him as well.

“Do me a favor,” she said, pointing her words at Din. “Don’t fuck it up or'dinii.”

Paz snorted. “You can’t expect that Thyra. Kaysh mirsh solus.”

“Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?” Din retorted, his eyes narrowing.

You’d never heard him speak his language other than the few words he let slip here and there, but now it seemed he was more open in letting those he cared about see this side of him. A part that only his family saw. You wondered if this officially made you his family now, and that thought alone made your lips twist upwards into a small grin. Paz roared with laughter, his own retort missing you completely as he tried to rile Din up enough to fully go through with his words. Except you had no clue what they were saying.

“What does that mean?” you asked softly, bringing his gaze back to you.

He shook his head, turning so you stood between his spread legs. “He called me an idiot.”

Your eyebrows raised. “And what exactly did you say?”

“An old phrase.”

“Which is…”

Thyra was the one to answer your question as she took a seat, a plate of pancakes in her hand. “Basically saying: are you looking for a smack in the face.”

“All in good nature,” Paz said.

“No fighting in my kitchen please,” Liv finally spoke up, her expression still in disbelief at the sight of several bikers taking up space in the already small apartment.

Poe and Finn were having their own conversation, leaning against the counter as they ate—unfazed by the talk of Mandalorians in front of them. This is what you missed. Sure, you ached to be back in the bar—back behind the counter—but this…the gathering of friends and family was what you missed the most. It seemed that even without the bar you could make yourselves at home anywhere; only needing one another to make that new place your new home.

The smile on your face widened, a sigh leaving your body as Din nudged you slightly to bring your attention back to him. It didn’t take him long to see it. The contentment in your stance, the joy in your eyes, and his own lips were turning up slightly. The sight of you happy enough to elicit that same emotion from him. You had him with you again. Him and all that came with him and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I missed this,” you said quietly enough for only Din to hear you.

“I missed you,” he replied, his hands pressing into your lower back.

Yeah…this just the way it is was perfect.

An hour later and you were helping Liv with the dishes as Din went through the bag Thyra brought from his apartment. Some clothes that didn’t take any damage, two extra pairs of boots, and what looked like a few picture frames that were hung up in the bar awhile ago. He must have moved them to his apartment before everything happened and you were about to ask him why when the door burst open again. Paz and Thyra had gone back to the bar to see what else they could salvage, leaving Poe and Finn to head back to their places.

Only to wind up back here.

Poe led in Finn, Rey, and Elora. He held a box in his hands, which he dropped by the couch beside Din.

“All the stuff you left at my place,” he said, snatching whatever was on the top before heading towards you. “And this.”

You smiled at the sight of the camera. “You took care of it.”

“Like you asked me to,” he replied. “I figured you’d want it back to take some more pictures.”

One look at Din searching through the box and you knew that you could take a million pictures of him, but it would never be enough to finally sear him into your mind. You weren’t even sure what it would take. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying—from capturing him on polaroid after polaroid, because now…you finally could. As if he could sense the way your eyes burned into his skin, he glanced up, his lips pulling up into a small grin. That apparently was enough to send your heart fluttering madly in your chest like a flurry of butterflies was passing through you.

“Thank you,” you said softly, pulling Poe into a hug. “I don’t know what I can do to repay you for how you’ve looked out for me after…everything.”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to pay me.”

“I feel like I should, given all the emotional distress.”

He’d been there from the start; watched you and Din grow as a couple only to see it fall to pieces. You and Din inadvertently tore apart a family that relied on the two of you to be together—a family you now called your own. Things still had to be resolved between the two of you; emotions had to be cleared and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time Din and you fought. But the heartbreak would be different then. All of it would be different, because you knew deep down that one way or another you’d find your way back to one another.

Just as the stars intended.

“Elora and I are hosting a dinner tonight,” Rey said. “Nothing big, but we’d like you and Din to come.”

You smiled, feeling another layer of anguish lift from your heart. “We’re there,” you replied. It may take some convincing to get Din there—only even you knew he would never truly say no to you. He never had before.

“It’s at Poe’s place.”

“Unfortunately,” he grumbled, reaching for the plate of cookies Elora had brought. “I don’t know why you couldn’t do it at your place.”

Elora came up behind Rey, resting her chin on her shoulder. “You’re the one with the bigger apartment flyboy.”

“That’s not my fault.”

Elora smiled. “Oh so it’s not your fault you only got it cause the previous tenant had a crush on you?”

“Technically happened before I even moved here.”

“Still counts.”

“You can’t blame me for being pretty sunflower.”

She rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms loosely around Rey’s waist. “I’m not, because you are not the prettiest sunflower here.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle from leaving your mouth, the moment of playful irritation between them now lost. You wondered when they met, how they met—all of them—in order to become the way they were now. Sure, they were friends. Anybody could see that. Except there was something between them—something you couldn’t quite discern—that made them family. An unbreakable bond that had been tested again and again only to finally realize at the end of the day that it couldn’t be broken; no matter how hard someone tried to destroy it.

“What time?” you asked.

“7:30,” Elora responded. “We’re cooking and for the recipe I’ve got planned it’s going to take some time.”

“Well if it’s anything like your cookies, it’s going to be delicious.” You couldn’t lie. If no one (including Din) were here, you’d have demolished those cookies in a fucking heartbeat and you could see by the look in her eyes—she knew it.

The conversation continued; their arguments never ceasing and you turned, catching Din’s eye as he shuffled through the box. A picture frame of him and his son sat on his lap—the smile on his face similar to that of Din from the past. You remembered the first time you saw him smile—truly smile—and the sight never left your mind. It stuck to you like glue, tattooing itself onto your skin, because even though he refused to believe it, Din Djarin was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You knew it the moment you walked into the bar and saw him for the first time and you absolutely knew it now.

Heading over to him, you plopped down onto the couch, leaning your head against his shoulder as he rested his chin against your head. It was comfortable having him here in your home like this. Merely sitting beside one another. Sure, the tension still remained and you were eighty percent certain that if no one was here you’d be riding him on the couch, but just doing this was nice too. In fact…you enjoyed it more. He didn’t say anything. You didn’t say anything. And all finally felt right in the world.

Sighing softly, you shut your eyes for a few brief moments, listening to the conversation in the apartment. It all sounded eerily similar to the bar and if you focused hard enough you may be able to smell the familiar scent of liquor, motor oil, and cigarettes. Fuck, you missed his place. You yearned to be back there, serving drinks and catching his gaze across the room as he stood behind the bartop. Eventually everything would end up back there—back where it all began—but now you were simply content to be here.

His fingers trailed along the back of your hand, twinging with your own as the cold press of his rings caused a shiver to go down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb along yours. “For everything.”

You didn’t have to stop yourself from smiling this time. “Careful Romeo. You keep apologizing and I won’t be able to get mad at you the next time we fight.”

He huffed, pressing his lips to your temple as they curved upwards. “That’s the idea sweetheart.”

“Yeah right.” Part of you knew the words you said were right. Except you could still feel the slight sting as a certain memory came back to your mind; forcing you to relive what should have been forgotten by now.

After all, he finally said it. He said he loved you. So why wasn’t that enough? Why were you still wracked with pain every time you wanted to finally give in and love him just as freely as you’d done before? Why…after all this time…were you terrified of being broken again? You knew he wasn’t William—far from it—but that didn’t stop the emotions from rising to the surface. Twisting your heart painfully in your chest as you contemplated what loving him again actually meant to the both of you.

“We’re going to dinner at Poe’s place tonight by the way.”

He shifted back, brown eyes meeting yours and as always your heart fluttered in your chest. “I don’t feel like—”

Pulling him down, you cut him off with a kiss. The conversations ceased to exist, the problems came to a stop, because it was just you and him in your little bubble. He sighed into your mouth, cupping the back of your neck and sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. Things couldn’t go further than this, you knew that, but it still felt euphoric to feel his lips against yours. To kiss him until the air rushed out your lungs and the taste of him was seared on your tongue.

“It wasn’t a question Romeo,” you breathed, slightly dizzy as he pulled away. Your eyes fluttered open and you swore you saw the brown of his pupils grow darker—lust clouding his expression.

“What time do we go?” he asked, relenting swiftly as his eyes zeroed in on you sucking your bottom lip into your mouth.

“7:30.”

He nodded, glancing at the old clock you’d bought at a thrift store in Massachusetts. The both of you had three hours to kill with nothing to do. Showing up to a friend’s dinner empty handed always turned out to be a bad idea in your opinion and it’s not like you could simply grab a bottle from the bar and bring it with you. The cooking abilities you had were limited to breakfast and possibly a nice one serving dinner.

“What’s going on in there?” He tapped your temple lightly, dragging your attention back to him.

While you had grown to read him like a book, he’d always been able to flip through the pages that made up who you were. You felt the faint beginnings of a smile form on your lips as you leaned back against him, your thoughts still spinning with what was happening. Everything occurred so fast you could barely keep up. Shit, you could barely keep up regardless, but with the fire and the feelings—you were trying to keep your head above water while navigating in the dark. You wondered if he could see that. Or if he even felt the same way.

“How’s your cooking skills Romeo?”

“Barely there.” Bringing your hand up to his mouth, he brushed his lips along your wrist. “Should I ask why?”

“It’s rude not to bring food when you’re invited somewhere.”

He chuckled, the sound burrowing deep in your chest, spreading towards the molten heat in your stomach. The control you had on yourself was wavering by the second and he wasn’t helping you in the slightest. Still…you didn’t pull your hand away. You let him press featherlight kisses to your wrist, down your forearm until he reached the juncture of your elbow and worked his way back. It felt nice—as if he was attempting to calm the thoughts in your mind without words.

When it came to Romeo, actions were his go to.

“I don’t think that applies to us, sweetheart.”

“Well it would be nice regardless,” you huffed.

Glancing at him you saw his eyebrows raise. “And who’s going to cook it?”

“I could—”

“No.”

“My cooking is not that bad.”

Another kiss was pressed to your wrist; this one firm. “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.”

He breathed out a laugh that was barely audible. “I did.”

“Djarin I swear—”

His teeth nipping sharply at your skin cut you off as you winced. “Don’t call me that.” He had shifted until his lips were pressed against your ear; the warmth of his breath caressing your cheek.

“Call you what?” You weren’t an idiot. You knew he heard the slight waver in your voice and you also knew…he liked it.

“Djarin,” he replied slowly. The bite in his tone wasn’t meant or even meant to scare you; it was rather to prove that he knew how your insides twisted at the sound and how your walls clenched around nothing. He was toying with you just as he had done before. “Everyone else calls me Djarin. You don’t.”

You smirked, tilting your head until his lips brushed against your cheek. “And here I thought you hated the name Romeo.”

“I never said that sweetheart.” If you moved another inch, his lips would be on yours again, and you never longed for something so much. “I’ll happily let you call me that.” He turned your head for you, the heat of his gaze digging into yours. “As long as you say Din when you scream.”

They were words whispered against your lips; barely audible to even you, but you heard them nonetheless. He was truly trying to fuck with you. Your eyes widened as the words settled into your mind—flashes of that very thing happening over and over again playing through your head. If he looked closely enough, he’d be able to see you reliving each one, and by the slight grin on his face…he knew. You opened your mouth, hoping to come up with a retort hot enough to have him squirming, but he’d officially done it. He’d fried your brain past the point of words let alone coherent thoughts.

“See you tonight lovebirds,” Elora’s voice broke the spell Din had you in, giving you a chance to gather yourself.

Din stood up before you were able to say anything back, saying a polite goodbye to Elora and heading to the kitchen. Still you remained on the couch, his words echoing in your mind as he went through your fridge. Really there was nothing in it—the thought of grocery shopping was further from your mind than it should have been. You could count on one hand what you bought this week and none of it could be used to cook anything.

“What do I cook?” you asked, walking into the kitchen to see him shut the door on a sparse fridge.

“Nothing.”

“Look I can—” Him grabbing his jacket and the keys to his car cut you off. “Leaving me already Romeo?”

The phrase was meant to be harmless—a joke, but seeing him tense, his hand clutching at his keys, made you want to take it back. Fuck. Things were still on edge between the two of you and while he’d apologized through the night, more times than you could count, that didn’t stop the restlessness in your body. It didn’t cease the ache in your chest that refused to fade.

“Bad choice of words,” you said, starting to ramble. “I’m sorry I should have said can I come with you…” Why the fuck were you still talking? He must have known it was a joke…right? He turned around as you apologized for the second time, his eyes bright and yet twisted with a grief he couldn’t yet share with you.

“Sweetheart.” You clamped your mouth shut. “I love you.”

Those words…they would never cease to make your heart flutter, to make you heat up from head to toe until you were sure you’d melt onto the floor.

Smiling, you felt the worries lift off your chest, giving you a chance to breathe again. “I love you too Romeo.”

He stepped forward, gripping your chin lightly and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before backing away towards the door. You didn’t ask him where he was going, didn’t need to, because he’d come back eventually. So, you busied yourself with cleaning up the kitchen—hoping it would throw off your mind from flooding with every manner of filthy thoughts. All of them with Din as the star of the show.

Sure, the words were carved into your skin like a wound that was taking it’s fucking time healing, but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. Only…wanting him is what got you into this mess. You two rushed into a relationship of sorts faster than you should have and before you got to know one another. Now you were doing things the right way. Which continually left you feeling like you’d combust if he looked at you too long.

“Fuck,” you muttered, nearly slicing your finger open on the soapy butter knife. “I need to get laid.”

“Where did you get this?” you asked, eyeing the wooden box that sat in the middle of your living room.

Din walked in an hour after you finished the dishes, carrying a box that looked eerily similar to the ones you used to see at the bar. Only the bar and all the alcohol that remained was burned. Which left you wondering who he paid off to get him this stuff. He cracked it open, pulling out a bottle of whiskey that was immediately familiar to you. The same one that sat empty on the shelf in your bedroom—now a piece of decor—the very same one that still held those charred bills the both of you refused to touch.

“Supplier,” he replied. “He owed me a favor.”

You nodded, knowing it was better not to question his methods. “Tell him thank you from me.”

Handing off the bottle to you, he watched as you placed it on the bookshelf near the television. Right beside a framed picture of you and him that Liv sneaked one night when she visited the bar for the first time. It was two months ago and even in the image you could see how much Din cared for you. The glint in his eye transferred to the glossy paper. You were standing behind the bar, a bottle in your hand as you poured gin into a glass; he leaned next to you, watching you with a smile on his face. You didn’t see her take the picture, never even saw the flash go off, but you thanked her for it every time you glanced in its direction.

“How many bottles are we taking?”

He lifted two out of the crate, setting it down next to the brownies you managed not to burn. “Think that will be enough?”

The way your friends drank, the two bottles would be gone before dinner was even served. Still you nodded, heading towards the bedroom to throw on the sundress you laid out earlier. The weather was becoming warm again; the cold was now vanishing slowly and while you were going to miss it—that didn’t deter you from wearing the oversized leather jacket that was thrown on the chair.

“Thankfully Rey and Elora are cooking,” you called, trying not to trip as you attempted to latch the platform sandals closed. “Poe’s good at making drinks, but I’ve seen him cook and I can definitely say I am bett…”

You trailed off as you walked back to where Din stood, catching the heady look in his eyes. They trailed down your body past the skirt of your dress all the way down to your feet, dragging upwards just as slowly. All the time you spent shoving down the burning heat that built up in your stomach vanished. It rushed through your veins, turning your skin warm as he simply watched you. Before everything, before the pain, he would have simply stated you weren’t going, taking you to bed without any complaints. But now…he waited, held his stance and breathed heavily as his gaze settled on yours.

He knew you weren’t ready for that and this was him respecting that wish. He wouldn’t touch you. Not until you were absolutely sure about him again; until you could finally open your heart to him.

For some unknown fucking reason, that made you want him even more.

Fuck your hormones. They waged a war within your body—turning you into a wilting mess even though he had yet to lay a finger on you.

“Do you like the dress?” you asked.

He grunted in response, turning back to the box, his hands clenching as you walked past him.

Poe’s place was thankfully not far from your own apartment. In a way, you were thankful for the short amount of time you’d have to spend in Romeo’s car, alone with him. You figured it was better that you keep your distance from each other, given how your reputation for holding off on jumping one another was all but disappointing. The next two weeks would be ruthless. What with you helping Liv with the last minute details of the wedding. Thankfully it would keep you busy.

You had yet to confront that one nagging question in the back of your mind. One you were truthfully terrified to even go near, because the answer would determine how you’d feel the next few weeks.

The silence felt comfortable with him—the radio playing the latest songs and the windows rolled down as he took the streets to Poe’s place. People milled about on the streets outside. The city night life came back as the sun dipped beneath the skyline of buildings. You could recall being a part of this crowd, of bar hopping night after night; a time when you were the most lost with no way of finding yourself home. Somehow in the end it brought you to him; stuck you in the center of something beautiful and told you to remain where you were.

It didn’t take you long to figure out that that’s where you belonged in the first place.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asked softly. The question was asked more frequently since he’d come back into your life—as if he was terrified of what your answer would be.

Ironic.

You were scared shitless of his own answer.

“I keep thinking…”

You noticed him stiffen in his seat, his left hand tightening on the wheel slightly until his knuckles turned white. He promised he wouldn’t lie to you, wouldn’t keep any secrets from you, and this was one of them. It’s not like he was trying hard to hide it. For the first time, Din was fucking terrified of what you’d say, and somehow it felt nice to come to that realization. Proof that you weren’t entirely alone in this situation.

“Nothing bad I hope,” he said, forcing a smile. But you saw the trepidation in his eyes, the waver in his voice.

He was worried you’d leave again.

That made your heart clench in your chest.

“Liv’s wedding is in two weeks,” you replied, keeping your eyes solely on his, finally reading his reactions as clearly as he read yours.

He’d given you an insight into his mind, told you all his fears, his past, and somehow that opened him up to you in a whole new way. Before, you struggled to even figure out what he was thinking, but now…you knew. You could see it so clearly on his face he didn’t even bother to school his expressions anymore.

“I saw your calendar.” Ah, the one that was hanging up on your wall—Liv’s wedding date marked with a big red circle. “Are you worried about it?”

You shook your head. “I’m actually really excited. It’s been a long time coming and I know that she’s ready to finally get married. But I was thinking…” He sucked in a breath, the leather steering wheel crackling under his grip. You only had a small amount of time to get this question out in the open before heading up to Poe’s for dinner. “I was actually hoping…”

“Sweetheart you’re killing me here,” he groaned, eyes flashing with agony.

A smile crossed your lips as you leaned in closer. “Would you still like to be my date?”

The car fell silent, his eyes turning back to the road as he pulled up to Poe’s apartment building. Your heart lurched in your chest, fear filling your veins as you realized you might have made a mistake. Fuck, you knew you should have waited. All of it was too soon; that damn question was too soon and you let out a shaky breath, turning your head away from him as you blinked quickly to get rid of the oncoming tears.

Please put me out of my misery Romeo, you thought in your head, desperate for him to say something—anything.

“Do you still want me as your date?” he asked.

Your head snapped back to his direction and you finally took in the utter defeat on his face. The pain in his eyes that he pushed away constantly, but you still saw it under the surface—saw how he fought against it. He hadn’t admitted it yet, but you saw it there in his face, heard it in his words loud and clear. He was afraid you still didn’t want him—that one day you’d wake up ready to run out the door and leave him behind.

“Of course I do,” you whispered. “Do you still want to…be with me?”

The question was a double edged sword and you were both dangerously walking on either side, trying to keep it balanced for the first time in a long time.

Did he want you beyond the heartbreak? Did he want to push past what you went through and find your equilibrium again—find the place you called home in this relationship.

His face fell as he took in your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “I want to be with you until the day I stop breathing sweetheart.”

“Oh—”

But he wasn’t done. Far from it.

Leaning closer, he cupped your face, twisting in his seat to finally bring his lips close to yours. “Yes I want to be your date to Liv’s wedding. Nothing would have stopped me from going. And yes…I want to be with you in any way you choose to have me. I’m yours baby. Till the end.”

You felt as if the weight pressing down on your chest was suddenly lifted; air filling your lungs with so much air it stung on the way down. Either way you relished in it, because you finally got your answer. Din wanted to be with you. He wanted you. Rather than kiss you on the lips, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, sending a shiver down your spine. While the doubts from before began to fade the longer you were with him, you still knew that the both of you had a lot left to work through.

He still had a lot to tell you about who he was before he met you.

“Should we go get yelled at by Poe now?”

You laughed, nodding your head. “Yeah. I think we should.”

He opened his door after one more kiss to your forehead, and walked around to your side, swinging open your door and reaching for your hand. The both of you weren’t prepared for this dinner, but you didn’t really care. Not when Romeo’s hand fit perfectly in yours, his body pressing close to yours as he led you up the stairs of the building. You’d never actually been here before, but seeing how comfortable Din was with maneuvering through the halls, him being here before was in fact true.

The thought of him suffering through heartbreak here surrounded by people who actually cared about him made you feel even lighter.

He had a family that surrounded him—he just needed a good shake to make him realize that.

“This is him,” he said, stopping at a beige colored door with a gold number eight hanging on it.

You could faintly hear music coming from the inside, the echo of voices filtering through the obviously thin door. “No turning back Romeo.”

A grin pulled his lips upward. “Me? Never.”

“Yeah right.”

He leaned over nipping sharply at your ear and eliciting a yelp from you that was no doubt heard from inside. You were about halfway to shoving your fist into his shoulder when the door opened revealing Poe. Of course he had to catch you and Din in yet another slightly compromising position. Din’s lips were attached to your neck, your hand now pressing against his shoulder to steady yourself and you felt the heat creep up the back of your neck. For fucks sake you couldn’t catch a break.

“Please don’t taint my hallway,” Poe said, smirking at the sight of you trying to mask your obvious embarrassed expression.

“Shut up Dameron,” Din replied, his fingers trailing up your back.

Poe’s mouth dropped. “Listen if you’re going to be a dick I’m not even going to consider letting you back in—”

The door was pushed open even wider, revealing Elora in a stunning yellow floor length sundress. “Please. Come in. We just finished cooking.”

You ducked under Poe’s arm, leaving the two men to finish their standoff—the smell of delicious food calling your name. Placing one bottle of whiskey on the table, you took in Poe’s apartment. There was only one bedroom, a small enough kitchen, and a plant on the windowsill—the leaves slightly brown. Overall you’d say it was cozy. A home you could see Poe staying in for quite some time.

Din came up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, chin dropping to your shoulder as he placed the second bottle right beside yours.

“It’s a nice place,” you said softly, seeing the living room that consisted of a black couch, a green chair, and a multicolored rug.

He hummed in agreement. “Would you like to live in a place like this?”

Just like in the car, your heart stopped at his words. “I would…one day,” you replied slowly. You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was asking of you, and that caused your insides to melt until you were sure you were a puddle on the floor.

“Hey lovebirds,” Poe called from where he sat at the table in the kitchen. “Dinner’s ready.”

You pulled away, heading towards the chair beside Finn who greeted you with a hug and a promise to talk later. You and him hadn’t really interacted much with him working nonstop at the record shop, but you wanted to get to know him just as much as Poe. Would he like to go out and get some coffee one of these days? Maybe you could invite Rey and Elora as well.

Din took the chair across from you, a small smile on his lips. You were partly grateful that he was seated with enough distance to keep your mind in order, but knowing him…he’d make sitting like this even worse for you. Here you could see his eyes. You still weren’t sure it was a good thing you could read him so clearly, because right now you knew what he was thinking of and none of it made for appropriate dinner party conversation.

“This smells delicious,” you said, eyeing the roast in the center of the table.

Elora smiled. “Thank you. It’s my dad’s recipe.”

The next few minutes were filled with a comfortable silence as each of you passed dishes around, filling up your plates and glasses with enough to satiate the hunger in your stomachs. You shifted in your seat as Din poured you a glass of whiskey, winking at you as he sucked off whatever fell onto his thumb. Fuck, he was truly trying to ruin you right here in the middle of dinner.

You refused to let him get the upper hand.

“So, how is the store going?” you asked Rey, sipping at the whiskey and avoiding Din’s gaze. Even as it burned into the side of your face.

“It’s going well. Lot’s of busy days with all the new music coming out.”

Finn turned to you, sipping on his own glass. “I managed to ask around and some music labels are willing to give us first take of most newer records coming out.”

“Really?” you asked. “That’s amazing!” Din’s foot brushed against yours, but you willed yourself to keep looking at Finn. “Do you work solely at the store or?”

“No, not anymore. I used to, but now it’s part time.”

Poe jumped in. “Don’t be humble man. Finn’s working his way up in the producer world. He’s got a real talent for it.”

“Ah well I’m trying to at least. I’m no you flyboy.” Finn said, smiling as Poe rolled his eyes.

“You never did tell me about your time as a pilot,” you said. “Were you there long?”

“There’s nothing special to tell sweetheart.” Something thumped under the table, causing Poe to wince. You turned to Din, seeing him swallow his whiskey innocently as he set his fork down, watching you with a glint in his eyes that had you shifting in your chair.

“Are you okay?” you asked, returning your attention to Poe.

You would not lose to Din. You’d won before and you could do it again.

“Yeah,” he bit out, shooting a glare Din’s way. “Just hit my knee against the table.”

That was bullshit—you didn’t miss the way Din’s lips quirked into a grin as he winked at you again. You had half a mind to drag him out into the hallway simply to ring his neck and the longer he toyed with you—sending you looks that no doubt had you dripping in your underwear—the closer you were to actually doing it. You knew what this was, why he was acting this way.

What you finally revealed in the car had opened the door even wider on the prospect of a relationship again and Din was doing his best to kick it the rest of the way down.

He was proving to you how much he wanted you.

Conversation continued around you as both you and Din held your very own silent talk. He smiled, leaning his elbows against the table and placing a piece of meat in his mouth—eyes flicking down to the cleavage your dress showed. Not one to be outdone at a game you’d mastered with him, you leaned forward yourself, reaching for the bowl of vegetables.

He swallowed so hard he started to cough.

“Are you okay?” you asked, innocently. Really you were preening under his heated gaze; his eyes narrowed at you as Poe thumped on his back.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Grabbing the glass of water in front of him, he retained eye contact as he swallowed, your eyes glancing down to his throat. Suddenly you were reminded how much you loved the sight of it—how much you loved to mark it up with your teeth and lips. He set the glass down with enough force to shake the table slightly, his eyes burning a hole into your face with a need that you felt in the very marrow of your bones.

Fuck how would you two make it long enough to talk out your issues when neither of you could control your impulses?

In your small staring contest, you didn’t seem to notice the others had stopped talking, their attention solely on you. Poe dropping his silverware and giving you a glare snapped you out of your reverie. He coughed, downing his glass of whiskey and pouring another one—laughing to himself about something. Seeing him this way slightly scared you in all honesty. What had you and Din done wrong? You felt like you were about to be reprimanded by your parents for doing something bad at the dinner table.

This wasn’t entirely far from the truth though.

“Poe?” you asked hesitantly.

“Unbelievable.”

“Dameron,” Din said a little harshly, even you winced.

“Don’t you Dameron me you dick.” Poe downed the second glass of whiskey. “You promised me that you’d fix it, that things would change once you got her back.”

You reared back, your eyes no doubt as wide as saucers. “What is he talking about Din?”

“I’m not going to explain myself to you,” Din replied smoothly, setting his glass down as Poe continued to glare at him with enough anger that you were sure Din would be six feet under had Poe been holding a weapon.

You had half a mind to take away the knife beside his right hand.

“No?” Poe began to laugh, his expression scaring the absolute shit out of you. So much so that you started to reach for him only to have Finn stop you. “You don’t want to explain yourself when I let you stay here? When it was me and Finn and Rey and Elora who made sure you didn’t kill yourself with alcohol poisoning?” You winced, feeling your heart twist violently in your chest, but Poe was far from being done. “I can’t believe you two haven’t figured out your issues yet and that you’re still playing this cat and mouse game.”

“Poe—” you started.

“And you.” He averted his glare to you. “I know you’re scared of being with him again, but fucking hell sweetheart—” He turned to Din. “You kick me again for calling her that and I’m going to put my knife in your foot.” Once again his eyes were back on you. “You are so in love with him it’s actually sickening to see it with my own two eyes. I swear if you don’t figure out your shit, the next time I see you I’m locking you two in a room together.”

“Poe—”

“Don’t Poe me. I’ve had to endure listening to you two fuck in so many different places I have actual nightmares about it now, but you know what. I will sacrifice myself one more time and risk hearing you two get it on if it means you will stop eye fucking each other at my table while I’m trying to eat.”

With a final glare in both your directions, he resumed eating his dinner as if nothing interesting happened. As if he hadn’t just shook you and Din so hard with his words that it jarred you out of your fearful states. Were you inevitably going to end up with Din? Yes. You knew this with everything in your being. What you didn’t know was why you were stalling to get to your happily ever after.

Why were you two so hesitant to jump in like you’d done before?

It wasn’t the heartbreak, because if anything that simply made the both of you stronger. So what kept you back? You tried to wrack your brain for any type of answer and could only come up with one that sounded the most reasonable. You were both so terrified of being hurt again that you held off on actually experiencing that happiness you once had again. Maybe that’s what hurt the most. Neither of you could remember what that feeling of pure bliss in a relationship felt like.

Your apartment door shut with a resounded thud, shutting out the rest of the world until it was just you and Din standing in your kitchen. The dinner had gone smoothly enough after Poe’s reprimanding. You laughed until you couldn’t breathe, reminisced on times at the bar, and felt like you gained three new friends. Poe had calmed down after his third glass of whiskey, but his words still rang loudly in your head.

“That was some night huh,” you said, pulling your heels off and settling on the couch.

He collapsed beside you with a sigh. “I feel like I just got yelled at by a teacher.”

“I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Din’s hand reached for yours, his fingers intertwining with your own. “He was right, you know,” you said softly.

“He shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“No,” you smiled. “I mean he was right about us.” Din froze, his eyes holding you in a gaze you had no intention of running from. Not this time. “I think we were so lost in our own pain and so focused on finding a way back to each other, that we never figured out a way to find our way back to ourselves.”

He lifted your hand, kissing the back of it just as he had done earlier in the day. A small sign of reassurance—a way to calm your aching heart—and it worked like a charm. You knew without a doubt in your mind, you wanted to be with Din, but you also knew…you had no idea who you were without him. The memory of you being single, being happy and free, had vanished to the very back of your mind.

“So where does that leave us?” he asked, brown eyes delving into yours.

Exhaling, you felt your heart twist. “Maybe…” Fuck you didn’t want to do this. “Maybe we should take these two weeks to try and remember who we are.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He said the words quicker than he could take a breath. Just hearing that managed to calm the racing of your heart, the worries that plagued your mind.

“I don’t want you to.”

“But…”

“But I don’t want you to forget who Din is, who you used to be before me. The bartender who I fell in love with. And I don’t want to forget who I was. I went from one relationship right into the next without ever figuring out who I had shaped up to be. I’d like to meet her.”

He nodded, leaning his forehead against yours. “I’ll do whatever you want sweetheart. I’d do anything to make this work.”

“There’s going to be some ground rules,” you said with a smile, enjoying the slight shift of annoyance on his face.

“Okay…”

“No kissing.” His lips slotted over yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. “Din,” you gasped, pulling away.

He sighed. “You really are trying to kill me.”

“Listen Romeo. You and I both know we can barely keep our hands to ourselves long enough to actually talk and I think we need to start agreeing to be friends before we jump back into a long term relationship.” You tried to maintain your composure, the seriousness in your voice bringing a smile to his face. What did you say that was funny? “And you’re smiling because…”

“You’re hot when you’re bossy.”

“Fuck you Din.” You shoved his shoulder.

“I’m listening,” he replied, pressing his nose to your cheek. “I swear. What are the other rules?”

“What happened tonight at dinner will not be happening again. No teasing okay? We have to at least try.”

“I can’t promise that.”

You huffed. “Din.”

“I’ll do it…for you.” He pressed another kiss to your hand. “Two weeks?”

Nodding, you figured the timeline matched up perfectly. Liv’s wedding would just be the time to hit reboot on your relationship. For two weeks you’d be friends again and begin to formulate a relationship that wasn’t based solely on need and sex. No, this one would be based on love—something you were looking forward to.

“Two weeks,” you responded, reaching your hand out to shake on it.

He dragged you forward by the nape of your neck instead, pressing his lips to yours and licking into your parted mouth as you gasped. He tasted like whiskey and you sighed into the kiss, digging a hand into his hair in order to keep him closer. Sure, it was going against the already set rules, but if you were going two weeks cold turkey…you needed a quick reminder of what you were working towards again. You moaned when he nipped at your lip, licking along it to soothe the ache before pulling away entirely—a flushed look on his face.

“Deal,” he breathed, standing up from the couch with one last look, leaving you there to sit on the couch.

Two weeks…of being friends with Din.

You were fucked.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin #1980s!din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian #black velvet #my writing #happy christmas eve eve #i don't know why i'm nervous posting this

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beardrabbles · 3 years ago

Text

invitation.

characters: GN!reader, claude, mentions of GN!byleth

warnings: none

word count: 2,814

notes: posted this on ao3 ages ago and totally forgot to post it here too :’) got into the fandom late, like alwaaaays! but i have an enormous claude / golden deer bias and wanted to write some fluff with him.

You forgot sometimes that this peaceful spot tucked between the trees wasn’t yours alone. You shared it with another from time to time, but it had been so long since the last time you both stepped foot in the clearing that it startled you to hear footfalls crunching at the grass behind you. Pushing yourself up halfway, eyes blinking blearily, you spotted the richly dressed prince with his hands planted on his hips.

“Napping without me?” Claude clicked his tongue, and you quickly replied with a roll of your eyes.

“I can’t nap here on my own?” You fell back again, letting the soft grass cushion you. A soft, content sigh escaped through your nose as the sweetest of breezes barely brushed your skin. It smelled of flowers and damp leaves, dense soil and a distant storm. There was no zing of hot iron or blood, and it was a relief.

“I thought it was our thing. . .”

You felt him sit beside you, taking up his usual position to your left. The tiniest flutter tickled the inside of your ribs, his nearness nearly making your head spin. “Before I came along, it was just your thing, remember?”

“Well, yeah, but I like it better this way.” Claude leaned back on his hands, eyes up towards the greying sky. It had taken fighting a war to bring back their usual glimmer, but it was there in full. Bright, hopeful, determined. Laying there, gazing up at the unsuspecting prince, it was almost as if you were looking at the man from five years ago — the cunning, clever and sometimes troublesome man that you had fallen head-over-heels for and had continued to painfully pine for.

“Me too.” You dared to smile, his gaze shifting to you. Adoring him hurt, but no amount of hurt would have you appreciating his presence any less.

Claude returned the smile, and the gesture sent your heart slamming against your chest. But just as quickly as it came, the smile faded. “I spoke to Byleth.”

You sat up in an instant, concern etched into your face. You were aware that he had gone to meet them, but he had failed to tell you why. You equally failed to push the subject, as it wasn’t your place to disrespect a man in his position. Curious as you might have been, you assumed it was best not to ask and only hope that he trusted you enough to confide in you later. Seemed you were right, though you acknowledged to yourself that it was a rare thing.

“How did it go?”

“They’re disappointed I won’t be here for the coronation. I can’t blame them. After everything we’ve been through together, I should be here for them. I want to hope they understands. They always have.” He exhaled sharply. “But, hey, I got to see them smile again! I think as long as they’re here, Fódlan will be in good hands. If they keeps smiling, if they keep breaking down the walls that were built up, I can go home and do my part there. I trust them.”

You shifted, feeling uncomfortable in your envy.

“So they’re not coming with you to Almyra?” You wondered. Claude shook his head.

“No, and I didn’t want to ask. Fódlan needs to be taken care of. It needs a parent that will hold its hand and lead it in the right direction. It’s gonna stumble around like an infant walking for the first time, but that’s why they’re the best person to lead. They’ll know what to say and do to help this little baby along.”

You screwed up your face and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You really like talking about babies.” You pointed out. Claude’s cheeks and the tips of his ears darkened a fraction, but he dismissed it with a hearty chuckle.

“I guess I do. I wonder why that is.” He trailed off, voice soft but nowhere near as confused as his words would have lead you to believe. You had long ago resigned yourself to never truly understanding him, so you shrugged. Trying to pick through his mind was like attempting a hedge maze without a map.

“Does that mean you’re going to be heading back soon?”

“I can’t stay for long. There’s so much I need to do if I’m going to see things through, but there’s something important I need to do here before I can go home.” There was sharpness to his eyes that you recognized and deeply adored. He was planning something, and you felt your curiosity rise again.

“What is it? Can I help?” You were always so quick to offer him aid. Usually, he gently denied it, stating time and time again that most of his schemes were for his mind alone. Things often worked out for the better that way. The fewer people that knew, the less chance they could commandeer the plan or ruin it. Yet you still asked just in case he needed you.

“Maybe. Before that, can I ask you something?”

You frowned. “Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“You’ve been saying that since we met. Is it really true?” Claude smirked and raised a single brow, only for you to shove him harmlessly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” You eyed him for a moment, worry mounting. “Was that what you wanted to ask me?”

The prince shook his head, as if he were getting off track. “No. I wanted to know where you plan to go. What are your plans for the future?”

“Oh! Oh.” You frowned when the sudden realization that you had no plans slammed into you. “I don’t. . . know. I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been so busy supporting everyone else, doing what I can for them, that I don’t know what to do with myself. Everyone’s grown up. They’re all doing their own thing, starting their own lives. No one needs me anymore.”

“That’s not true.” Claude’s voice was firm in your ear, and his expression was set to match. You smiled meekly.

“I grew up with all of you, but it felt like my purpose was to help you all find yours. Not that I really think I’m capable of being that helpful, but I never took the time to think about myself. I was too worried about you all reaching your dreams that I didn’t have one. I don’t have one.” You amended the last part quickly because it was blatantly clear to you that you had no direction to go in.

“There has to be something you want.” Claude pushed. You laughed.

“At the risk of repeating myself, I want what you want. I want you to succeed.” You opened your mouth again, but were quick to clamp them shut when another thought arose. I want to be with you.

It was lovely to imagine, but you had lived with the fact that any future with him was left solely to your imagination. You met him as an heir, and you knew him now as a prince. The differences in your status was vast and hard to ignore. Claude had his mind set on making those differences unimportant, but you doubted that he could find room in his heart for you. He had a country to take care of and love, not to mention you two had been friends since the start of your time at the academy. Too much time had passed since then, and while your feelings had grown deeper and more troublesome, you were sure he had none to begin with. No, as students, he had been too preoccupied with tormenting you. Teasing, poking, taking up your time with nonsense and rarely giving you a moment to yourself.

Despite him being a brat at times, you loved him. And even if he didn’t reciprocate, you were grateful to have known him at all.

“So you’re not bound to Fódlan?” His voice shook you from your thoughts.

“What?”

“Do you have any obligations here in Fódlan?” His gaze was so intently set on you that it made you squirm, the feeling ten times worse since coming out of your own head.

“No, not that I can think of.” You couldn’t recall making any promises.

“Right, so you could leave.” Claude hummed thoughtfully and got to his feet. Once upright, he dusted the grass from his clothes and offered you a hand. Confused, you took it and let him pull you into standing.

“I guess I could, but where would I even go? I don’t know anyone outside of Fódlan.” You felt something subtle was being said, you couldn’t catch on. Some days, you could. You had learned him just as he had learned you, but he was always several steps ahead. You could read him, but only the pages he allowed you to see. In this case, the pages were written on, but only in bits and pieces.

Claude gave you a pointed stare and a gentle, encouraging squeeze to your hand. When you failed to understand, he raised both eyebrows and pointed to himself. No words were needed. His gestures and odd line of questioning were like a clarifying slap to the face. You reeled, giving him a wide-eyed stare while sputtering idiotically.

“Wh——”

“That took you while. I was starting to worry I’d have to spell it out for you.” Claude put on a convincing pout. “Unless this is your weird way of telling me you don’t want to come with me.”

“No!” You leaped too soon, your eagerness prompting a smirk on the prince’s face. You fell silent again, worried that saying anything more might reveal all of what you had been trying to hide for over five years. “I’m not saying that.”

“What are you saying?” He purred cunningly, hand still holding tightly to yours. You didn’t resist when he to eased you closer, your heart screaming in your chest. Cheeks red and breaths shallow, you could hardly think. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

I’m still napping, and this is just another stupid dream.

You swallowed hard and peered up at him. “I think I should be asking you that, Mr. Vague.”

“Ah-ah,” chided the cheeky man, “you’ll have to address me as Prince Vague now.”

You scoffed and gave him another shove. When your hand pressed to his shoulder, he trapped it there with his own. Even closer now, Claude lowered his head until your noses nearly touched. You sucked in a breath and found yourself unable to move away, attention trapped in his bright, beautiful eyes.

“You want to know what I’m asking you?” He lowered his voice, tone growing tender and warm. You nodded. “I’m asking if you’ll come home with me. I want you to meet my parents and my people, and I want them to meet you. I want them to love you as much as——”

He choked for a moment, a rare flicker of pure emotion startling him.

“As much as what?” You didn’t want to get your hopes up, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Claude calmed himself with a shaky breath and tilted his chin down, lips barely ghosting the curve of your cheek. His eyes fluttered half closed, while a single lock of his dark hair tickled at your cheek. When you didn’t shy away, he spoke again in honeyed tones. “I want them to love you as much as I do.”

“You can’t mean that.” Your entire being felt numb with glee, but you couldn’t process his confession without a little doubt. He met your doubt with a chuckle, so you persisted. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” He nuzzled into your cheek, and you felt the compulsion to reach up and thread your fingers through his hair. You had done so many times before, letting the gentle touches calm him during his bad days, but there was new meaning behind it now. There was an honest love behind it as your dragged your fingers through the strands, pushing them back and away from his darling face.

“There were so many others. . .” So many people wanted his attention, his affection. You were but one in a thousand that longed for him.

“I didn’t care. I dreamed of many futures, and all of the best ones had you standing there beside me.” He muttered into you, the softest of kisses resting just under your eye.

“We argued so much.” You shuddered, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

“You kept me grounded. How can anyone expect to be a decent ruler if they’re always agreed with?” He countered. You huffed and tried to think of another argument.

“You used to tease me all the time.” You muttered.

“I’ll admit that was dumb of me, but it felt like the only way to get your attention.” His lips found the tip of your nose, and you couldn’t contain a snicker. “You looked so cute when you were embarrassed, especially when you wrinkled your nose. I couldn’t help it.”

“Why do I feel like you still can’t help it?” You tucked a lock of his hair behind his ear and let your fingers follow the path of his facial hair. He was putty in your hands, cheek pressing to your hand.

“It’s part of my charm.” Claude flashed his usual smile, then took a step back. The lack of closeness left you feeling a little colder, but the distance let you appreciate him fully. Tall, handsome, commanding. You were exceedingly proud of him, and you felt yourself falling for him all over again. But before you could think to speak, he started again. “You don’t have to answer me right away. I know this a lot to ask of you, so I want to give you the time you need. I’m leaving in two days. Meet me at the——”

You didn’t allow him to finish. Your heart was too full and on the verge of bursting, and it seemed silly to you that he didn’t know what your answer would be when he was so skilled at predicting you. Rather than let him wonder, you removed your hands from his and took his face between them. You gathered your courage, mustered with his help, and pulled him down for a soft but silencing kiss.

Claude wasn’t often rendered speechless, but he supposed he didn’t mind being put in his place if it meant your lips fitting against his as perfectly as they did. Unfortunately for him and the heat radiating throughout him, you didn’t let the kiss last long. He wanted to wrap you in his arms and crush you against his chest like he’d long to for years, but you parted from him too soon for his liking.

“Where are you going?” He took chase, but you placed your hand over his mouth. Claude stilled and arched a brow.

“I’ve had my answer for years, Claude. I’m with you in every possible way. But if I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?” You uncovered his mouth, but his silence told you more than words would. “How long have you, uh. . .”

“Cared for you? Admired you? Wanted to kiss you the way you just kissed me?” Every question he posed in response to yours made your heart thud and your cheeks burn. “A long, long time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I was never given the chance.” He answered so surely that you wondered if he had those words prepared. You couldn’t pester him about it — too many things had gone horribly wrong during your time at the academy, and it didn’t make sense to plant seeds in dead soil. There would have been no guarantee that it would bloom and flourish, but with the land starting a slow recovery, you hoped that what you two started here would become lusher and more far-reaching than any forest in Fódlan.

“It’s alright.” You giggled giddily and granted him another kiss, this one to the corner of his lips. “We were given our chance, and you took it.”

“Does that mean you’re going home with me?” He asked.

“I told you——”

“I want to hear you say the words.” Claude softly pleaded. Weak for his doe eyes, you melted in his arms and relented.

“I’m going home with you, Claude. I want to meet your parents, and I want to get to know your people. And for as long as I’m there, for as long as you’ll have me, I want to get to know you better.”

A soft sigh tinged with relief escaped the man as his head came to rest on your shoulder. His grasp on you tightened, and you felt his heart beat against your chest.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and embraced him. “Don’t thank me. Just take me home. . .”

#claude von riegan x reader #fire emblem reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Here ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: Hi, so I’m not sure if you’re taking these kinds of fics for Draco, but I’ve been feeling really down lately, and I was wondering if you could write a one shot or a scenario where the reader has been having a really bad day/week and Draco comforts them? And maybe Draco lays the reader on his chest and he hums a small tune to make the reader feel better? You can ignore this if it’s an issue, but I’d really appreciate it. I love all of your fics btw! They make me really happy <3

Warnings: none bc mostly fluff, some tears, super soft!draco

Words: 1.9K

A/N: i saw this and had to do it effective immediately bc i am feeling the exact same wayyy so this was really nice to think about ;( thank you so much for requesting this and for reading my stuff and i’m so glad i can help in a way <3 i’m sending you nothing but peace, love, and light !!! but i really hope this is gooood <3 do not own gif

Life was punishing you, you thought. It had to be. Because there was no way how in the span of a week everything in your day-to-day life had gone from okay to borderline catastrophic. It was as if every situation you were in was taking its form in the worst case possible scenario and all you could do was watch hopelessly as things continuously got worse sprinkled with small misfortunes in between.

It started on a regular Monday morning, sitting down for breakfast in the Great Hall with blissful ignorance. Halfway through eating your toast, your owl had come in through the open large glass windows and dropped a letter onto your plate from home that left you some very unfortunate news and had set forth a ripple effect that began making everything else go downhill as your days progressed. By the end of the school week, you had managed to blow up a potion, lose house points because of said potion when it splashed onto some people and had some physically altering effects, tripped over your footing and fell in the middle of a crowded corridor, failed a surprise quiz, forgot to turn in an essay, got into an argument with a friend, accidentally slept in and missed a morning class, and took a trip to the hospital wing for a migraine that didn’t want to leave you alone. You could’ve sworn you had somehow been thrown into purgatory, or limbo, or something outer-worldly.

“Are you alright?” Draco had asked you right after breakfast that Monday morning as he was walking you to your first class. “What was in the letter your owl gave you? You look worried.”

“It was nothing,” you dismissed quickly, trying to put on a half-hearted smile while you spoke to make it more convincing. “I’m fine, just tired.”

It was the beginning of the week, and he did keep you up late the night before when you were sneaking around together, so he just shook his head up and down and took your excuse even though he felt like there was more to it than you were letting on. But as the days went on, he was becoming more observant of the way you were acting and even looking. He didn’t like that every morning he saw the shadows under your eyes get deeper and darker, and he didn’t like how you would close your eyes in pain when you would groan about your headache. He also didn’t like the way he hadn’t seen you truly smile or laugh all week even when he tried countless times to amuse you or cheer you up. But what he didn’t like most of all was that he felt like there was nothing he could do.

On Wednesday afternoon, he tried asking you again. You were sitting in the Quad with him on a bench and he was telling you a story from earlier in the day about how he had ‘accidentally’ tripped this Gryffindor boy and got Snape to take away house points from him that he thought for sure would you make laugh or perhaps give him a disapproving redirection, but when he glanced up to see your reaction, he noticed you weren’t even listening, to begin with. You had been staring down at your shoes and the way they lined up against the cracks in the pavement, kicking around some gravel as your mind was running a million thoughts per second.

“Love?” He said to you softly. You looked up at him swiftly with a quiet questioning hum, e/c eyes widened slightly from being ripped away from your thoughts suddenly. “You know if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

“I know,” you nodded warmly. “I’m okay, Dray. I’m honestly just tired.”

And you were telling the truth, in a sense. You really were tired; physically, mentally, emotionally.

He frowned, dissatisfied with your answer. “Right, well if anything at all comes up, I’m here.”

From then on, Draco took it upon himself to try and increase his affections and compliments. He would hug you a little tighter, kiss you a little longer, whisper sweet little nothings into your ear before he left you for class. You felt a little bad lying to him, withholding the truth from him, and you saw the concern in his light gray’s when you’d meet him in the mornings and for the rest of the day, but it only made you feel a tad bit worse. You were starting to feel guilty for the way he was worrying, feeling like you were dragging him down into the dumps with you and raining on his usual carefree parades.

On Friday morning, you didn’t meet him for breakfast and you were out of the Great Hall faster than he could catch you. He felt like a stalker when he walked by your class, peeking his head in to see if you were there and well. He spotted you sitting at your desk, hunched over your unopened books with a grimace on your face and your head in your hands. He wanted to go in and whisk you away to somewhere far and quiet, but the Professor had caught him by the door and sent him on his way before he could even think of doing anything of the sort.

You felt the day had gone by extremely slow, relative to how the week was moving and also impossibly dismal. You were counting down the minutes until the end of the school day, ready to run to your dorm right after your last class and bury yourself deep into your duvet and pillows for the rest of the weekend.

Head still pounding, you trudged over to your final class, stopping outside the doors when you saw a small group of your housemates standing around with unnerved expressions as they passed each other papers and spoke in hushed tensed tones.

“I studied all night but my friend took the test earlier and she told me during lunch that it had stuff on it that wasn’t even in the reading!” You heard one exclaim in distress.

“We have a test?” You accidentally said aloud and a pair of eyes turned to look at you confusingly.

“Yeah? Professor’s been telling us all week.”

A scoff of disbelief escaped your lips, an overwhelming sense of defeat washing over you as you turned briskly on your heel and in the opposite direction of your classroom. Tears started pricking at your eyes, you felt the stinging of them wanting to be released but you refused to let them all out in the open and especially in front of people who were still taking their time to head to their classes.

You were making a beeline towards your common room, blinking rapidly to try and clear your vision that was quickly pooling with unshed tears while trying to steady your breathing in another failed attempt to calm yourself. You were nearly there, you could tell by the paintings and doors that you passed by and the black stain splattered on the floor you saw every day on your way to the dorms from someone’s dropped ink bottle that Filch hasn’t been able to get rid of.

Almost there, you kept repeatedly reminding yourself.

All hope of solace was gone when you didn’t notice the body you had unknowingly crashed into. All you felt were strong hands around your biceps, holding you in place from toppling backward and the very familiar scent of expensive cologne and mint.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you in class?” You looked up at the platinum blond sadly, his worried eyes searching yours with such care that it pushed you over the edge.

You didn’t answer him and instead wrapped your arms tightly around Draco’s middle, burying your face deep into his robes and letting out quiet and frail weeps that broke his heart. He held you tightly, pressing kisses to the top of your head and muttering soft “I’m here’s” into your hair. You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes, letting your tears freely fall into his vest with a sense of relief that only he was able to give you at this point in time.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” you choked out when you pulled away from him, desperately wiping away at your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“You don’t ever have to apologize for that,” he said quickly. He brought his hand up to your face, his thumb swiping delicately over a stray tear that was sitting on your jaw while you closed your eyes in comfort. “Do you want to go back to my room? I can set you up really nicely and we can talk if you’d like?”

“Yes please, I’d like that a lot.”

Draco interlocked your fingers with his, bringing the pair up to his lips with a warm kiss on the back of your hand before walking the two of you over to the entrance of the Slytherin common room. It was empty when you walked in, not a soul in sight since everyone was still in class and it made it much easier for him to sneak you into his singular Prefect room you were now extremely grateful he had. He watched contently when you shed off your robes and kicked off your shoes and immediately slipped into one of his dark green jumpers that fit you big.

You were perched on the edge of his bed, his scent from his sweater engulfing you and doing a much better job of calming you down than you wanted to admit. He followed in your footsteps and changed into something comfier and when he finally sat beside you with his hand falling over yours as an encouragement to talk - you did. You vented to him all about the letter from home, the migraine, your classes, the argument between you and your friend, and everything else that came to mind.

“And I feel bad for ignoring you and not telling you all this before but I didn’t want to burden you,” you finished with sniffles, gazing up at him with a gloomy expression.

“Y/N, I love you, and nothing you say to me is a burden,” he frowned slightly, “when I tell you I’m here, I mean it, for anything. You’re so important to me and it kills me to see you upset.”

In a careful movement, he had scooted towards you and affectionately cupped your face before placing a loving kiss on your forehead and murmured to you, “don’t ever hesitate to come to me.”

You let him pull you under his covers, draping his large duvet over your entangled bodies with your head resting right above his chest, the steady beatings of his heart instantly sending you into a much-needed peace. His chin was rested right atop your head and you felt his fingers run up and down your arm soothingly while he thought.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?” He asked quietly.

“Can you help me fall asleep?” you muttered, closing your eyes gently when his hand smoothed over the back of your hair. You felt him nod against your head and after a small moment silence, you heard him begin to hum the faint tune of your favorite song.

You lied there in bliss, enjoying the way his chest was vibrating against your ear and the way his fingers were playing with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around his fingers and then moving upwards to massage your scalp. And for a minute, everything was finally okay again as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, a full heart and with your love calmly lulling you away with a soft and now distant humming.

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shlutnutt · 4 years ago

Text

My favorite pet

-kai anderson smut-

hopefully its good lol not really proof read also

warnings⚠️: gun play, death mention, hardcore penetration, oral sex, fingering, name calling, slapping, sir kink, spit kink, harsh language, bath sex, 69

Working for Kai Anderson has never been easy, you needed the money and urgently for your father's open heart surgery. Kai was extremely cruel almost as if he was just born with a rotten heart, but Winter usually makes it known that he's a great guy.. Even if he doesn't show it.

"Hurry the fuck up you slut! You're here to serve me, not make me wait" Kai demands from the basement in which he'd stay most of his times at in his head designing his world domination plans. "Im on my way Kai! Had to clean up a little, sorry." you apologize as you walk down the creaky stairs leading to his dusty dim basement manwhich in hand. "What have I said about the sorrys Y/N?" Kai gazes up at you while you dont dare step another foot, an intimidating expression suited on his rough face, manwhich in hand, comfortably seated on his wooden chair.

"Sorrys are stupid and unecessary, stupid little sluts like me don't apologize. " you complied. "Good girl." Kai praises, as you automatically sprint back upstairs. There were no words to describe how intimidated you were by Kai Anderson, not because of the fact he was a psychopathic cult leader serial killer, but because of the way he carries himself. Always firm, vigilant, direct and determined . He was also illustrated as a sex god amongst a few of his cult members, they'd talk about how he'd make them come in just one minute in addition to leaving their legs trembling for hours. Even though you were slightly terrified of him you'd not give up the chance to hooking up if he'd offer.

Arriving back home to your little kitten (Dex) you were up for a hot steamy bath after the exhausting day Kai had given you. As you run the water carefully stepping in the oversized bathtub you begin to relax, coming up with the brilliant idea to drink some hennessy to boost your relaxation. You soon jump at the sudden buzzing coming from your phone, noticing it was Kai you instantly pick up to avoid his aggressive protests.

Y/N: "Yeah.. What's up?"

Kai: "You forgot your cat food at my place, Y/N."

Y/N: "Can I umm.. come by pick it up tomorrow? Im kinda busy right now."

Kai: "Nope. No need. I got it, Im at your front door, if you don't mind opening?"

Y/N: "Shit.. Im taking a bath, uhh there should be a spare key under the mat somewhere."

Kai: "You sound dru-"

You terminate the call quickly as your heart soon skips a beat due to the loud unlocking commotion coming from your front door echoing through your empty home. Dex's meowing began to rise, you dont think much of it since Dex gets overly excited from the pure sight of cat food, but when you hear his meowing getting closer along some heavy footsteps you grow alerted, getting ready to step out the bath.

"Can i come in?" You hear a familiar masculine voice politely question from the other side of your bathrom door. "What? no. Im taking a bath can you wa-" Kai enters, pretending to cover his eyes to give you privacy. "What the fuck." you yelp. "Hey, I just needed your help opening the bag, its kinda weird made, plus your little pussy needed attention." you chuckle to yourself from his use of words. "You wouldn't want it to starve to death huh?" Kai questioned you, proceeding to prentending to cover his eyes with the one free hand he had. He looked better than ever.. He wore a black long sleeve shirt which hugged his ripped body along some black fitted jeans, accompanied by his hot man bun, he noticed how you hungrily checked him out and took his hand off his face revealing himself fully to you.

"Like my outfit?" Kai asked in an overly charming voice giving you a silly twirl, which weirded you out since he's alwalys been a meany, could've been because he wasn't in his old deppressing basement away from his deadly cult who does nothing less than slaughter people for entertainment, or maybe it was because of how intoxicated you were. "Yeah, I actually like it. You look so fucking hot. Wait shit I d—" you accidentally let out one of the many thoughts that circled your mind triggering an unexpected shiver to run through your veins causing the little soapy foams that covered your body to vanish into the warm water unintentionally revealing your bare body for Kai to see.

"Oh, God. Don't move, you stay just like that." Kai demanded as his voice deepened to the sight of you. His dark appealing eyes scanned through your own causing your breathing to quicken at an inhuman speed. Unawaredly you bit your lip, effecting Kai's bottom lip to slip under his teeth also. Tension filled the bathroom as you two just stared at eachother, not one of you attempting to break the eye fucking you've been holding onto.

"Take off your clothes." you instinctively order. Kai's eyes widen as he slowly lifted up his long sleeve revealing his battle scars along with his divine form, as you just admired in the temperate warm bathtub you continued to comfortably lay on.

"That's it?" you question as Kai teased lowering his pants down slightly revealing his boxers and sharping v line. "I want more, baby" you order once again, this time softly attaching your hands to your soaped up breasts. "I think I might need some more inspiration." Kai suggested. "What kinda inspiration?" you interrogate once again. "Touch yourself for me, pet." Kai groaned out.

Rolling your eyes a little in response to Kai's nickname you begin to trace your hands down to your soaked core, rubbing it a few times before slipping a finger halfway in, moaning to the view of Kai pleasuring himself through his pants, you gasp to him pulling out a pistol from his inner hip, pointing it at you instantly.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Kai questions, his warm breath fanning your face softly as he traced his gun up and down your body. "No." you shook your head terrifiedly as Kai's hand wiped the tears that your petrified eyes had shed before slapping the fuck out of you leaving a red mark instantaneously. Whimpering in fear and in pain you spat on his face in disrespect.

Kai paused and slowly cleaned off your spit with two fingers of his bringing it towards his mouth seductively sucking them clean before guiding his fingers from his mouth to yours. "Spit again" Kai motioned his fingers against your mouth signaling you to spit on them once again.

You spat on his fingers as he repeated his past actions, suddenly grabbing you by your neck to his mouth brushing his lips lightly against yours as he whispers against your mouth " You're gonna be good for me, right?" "Yes." you respond attempting to close the gap that you both held when he automatically pulled back to look deep into your eyes saying "It's yes sir, Y/N." "Yes si—" you're immediately interrupted by Kai's harsh lips on yours not giving you an opportunity to come up for air, continuing to trace his gun choking you and pulling your hair aggressively.

You pull on his pants signaling him to take them off as he hears your calls and unbuckles his belt allowing it to loudly make contact against the tiled floor. Tossing his pants elsewhere, Kai pushed you deeper into the bathtub as he joins you, turning on the hot water faucet.

"Open your legs for me." Kai intructs as you obediently do as you're told feeling his fingers fill you up quickly. Keeping his steady rhythm Kai continues fingering you, making out with you allowing his tongue to explore your mouth completely, loud moans filling your bathroom.

"Im really close, Ka– ..sir" you instruct in between needy moans reaching for his cock, provoking Kai to pull his fingers out of you angirly.

Another slap reaches the other side of your face as you whimper in pain. "I told you to call me sir, pet." "But I di–" "Shh, pet. Shut the fuck up. Suck your master's cock will ya?"

You proceed to straddle Kai's bare body against yours slowly and carefully drifting your head down to his erected member and your needy core to his face, forming 69. Beginning to kitten lick Kai's tip you feel his fuzzy face vibrate against your innocence making you moan against his, returning the same vibrations.

"Don't stop doing that.. it feels so fucking good." Kai instructs against your clit in which you obliged. His tongue swiped up and down your core aggressively, sucking your bud and tongue fucking you at times, making your pleasure on him sloppier by the second. Kai grabbed your thighs harshly digging his nails in deep trying to get as close as possible to you whilst flickering his tongue antagonising your swollen clit in which you let out a long deep groan against his freeing your juices all in his mouth in which he slurps dry immediately.

Kai chose to face fuck you belligerently causing your blood flow to your head making you dizzy in the instant as you allow your intoxicated body to be used as a sex toy. "Get on 4, you pet" Kai demanded as he pointed a corner of the now empty-waterd bathtub. "Yes, sir." you obliged once more switching your position as your legs trembled along the way causing a deep chuckle to escape Kai's lips, proud of his work.

Kai slid his erection past your soaking needy folds with no hesitation, causing your back to arch instantly against his. Kai had insane stamina in which you knew the sex wasn't going to be over unless he was done. His hips contacted your ass everytime, creating beautiful wave patterns to form on them, turning Kai on even more by the second.

"F–fuck.. you feel so good, my little slut." Kai praised as he gritted his teeth in between each slap against your ass, making you scream in pure pleasure as your climax was getting closer and closer. "Scream louder for me, Y/N." Kai instructed as you screamed for dear life against his nonstopping thrusts, satisfyingly sighing at the feeling of Kai's member softening inside of you as his warm liquids leaked out of your pussy.

"You're a fucking god, Kai." you praise, calling him by his real name purposely. "Next time I fuck you i'll make sure that you're left in a fucking wheelchair, Y/N." Kai snaps at you totally serious about what he just said while you giggled at his words.

"I love you, byee" your intoxicated self says to Kai's exhausted self, putting on his clothes whilst his wet hair shielded his dark intense eyes.

"Fuck you and feed your cat" Kai responds pointing at Dex who's been locked in the bathroom the whole time, witnessing it all.

"Oh shit."

Damn. Poor Dex lmao

#evan peters #american horror story #ahs cult #kinkyaf #kinkystuff #kinky sub #kinkyshit #smut #ahsfx #kai anderson

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gentlemancrow · 3 years ago

Note

14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚

Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;

“I’m screwed…”

Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.

From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.

By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.

“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.

“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.

“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”

Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.

“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he… Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”

“Thanks…”

“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”

“Y-Yeah but-“

“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”

Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”

“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”

Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.

“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“

“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”

He closed the door behind him

“Oh, uh… about wh-“

“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.

He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.

“…You?”

That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.

“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”

Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.

“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”

The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.

“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.

Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.

“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.

Jon’s brow creased again.

“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”

“I’d much rather give them to you.”

The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.

“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.

“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”

“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”

“Well I don’t know about all that, but-�� Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”

Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.

“You’re welcome…”

Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.

“You uh, said you had a file for me?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”

“I’d like that very much, actually.”

Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.

#the magnus archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #jonathan sims #Martin Blackwood #crow writes #Ask drabble #Bowtiesandfireflies #A red tulip means a confession of love hurrhurr

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dorotharry · 4 years ago

Text

tiny dancer ; chapter three

Pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 4 (coming soon)

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: pain, angst, nightmares, metal limbs?

Summary: After being drafted for the war in 1942, Bucky goes to the ballet a week before having to leave with his best friend Steve. There he becomes infatuated you with the prima ballerina of the show, and he just has to meet you before his last week in Brooklyn is up. He hopes one day you would meet again; little does it know it will be 72 years later.

A/N: Well, hello again, honestly after yesterday I really wanted to write again soon so I could start giving more away. Eep so exciting, thank you again for all your support too!! Please feel free to like, repost and comment any feedback, it’s much appreciated :)) Also lets just ignore that infinity war is a thing for the moment lolz.

MY MASTERLIST

*gif not mine

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve been looking for you under Fury’s instruction for a while, my name’s Natasha.”

Natasha. It rang in your ears, there was some familiarity to that name. You kept your face blank, but for some reason it felt like you’d known her in a past life, or perhaps a life you didn’t remember. Though her face gave no indication that she knew either. But a younger version of her face flashed in your mind, only she wasn’t blonde she had bright red hair. You shook yourself from your thoughts, Natasha was a common name, surely you couldn’t know her. Surely.

“Come in,” you responded moving to the side as the women eyed you as she entered. She had to be around a similar age to you. At least in looks, you were at least a century year old in reality. “Did you want something to drink?” You said as you shut the door and gestured to the couch nearby.

The blonde shook her head, taking a seat her gaze still wary. “You’re probably curious to know why I’m here and who I am?”

You nodded as you took a seat on the second couch, it wasn’t often you had visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of the Avengers,” She started.

That’s where you knew her from! She’d swapped her red hair for blonde and suddenly you felt less confused.

“I’m a part of it, and our director Fury has been sending me on mission after mission looking for you. It’s only now we got a tip that you were living in Madripoor.”

You almost wanted to interrupt and ask who had tipped them off, but you thought better of it. You rose an eyebrow at her comment, giving her an expression that told her to continue.

“Anyway, I’m here because we wanted to bring you back to the compound. You’ve been hidden away from us for a long time. In fact, the only reason we know you exist is because of the HYDRA files I shared in 2014. We hoped you could give us some intel; we think something big is going to happen again, but we aren’t sure if it’s HYDRA or something else.” She looked at you again, a serious expression on her face.

Yours matched hers. “You should know I don’t do that anymore, I don’t work as an assassin,” you began suddenly feeling more vulnerable as the terrible things you had done came back up in your memories.

Natasha cut you off sensing your distress. “We aren’t asking you to, we just need your knowledge. Whilst I know Fury wants you to join us in the long run and start fighting again, we also respect your decision not to if that’s what you want.”

You looked at her sceptically, had she not heard what you had just said? Plus, now your cover in Madripoor was blown, if the Avengers knew where you were then surely it wouldn’t be long until every other government in the world would too. You were sure there were many people who wanted you dead.

As if she had heard your thoughts Natasha spoke up again, “don’t worry, if you turn down helping us, no one but Fury and I know you’re here. Not even Steve.”

You silently gasped, you had forgotten about Steve in these brief moments, he was captain America back then, in fact he was still Captain America. Even if you would be throwing yourself back into the line of fire, maybe it would be worth it to see your old friend again. Would he want to see you though? After everything awful thing, you had done. Your eyes began to well again, but you didn’t want Natasha to see you vulnerable.

“Fine.” You spoke sternly looking at the woman in front of you, “I will help, but only if you promise that you avengers will protect me. There’s a lot of people who want me in chains.”

You could see the hint of a smile on her face as she listened, “Don’t worry y/n, we have ways around that,” she smirked. “I don’t exactly have the cleanest record either.”

You nodded, standing up. You knew now if you were leaving that you could never return to Madripoor. If you chose not to fight with the Avengers after helping them, then at least you were sure they could protect you and finally you could maybe be back home. “Where to then?”

Natasha told you to get anything valuable, some clothes and anything else you felt you needed. Luckily for her, you always kept a duffle bag with everything you needed if you had to leave under you bed, along with the shot gun that had been in your hand this entire time till.

You walked to your room, grabbed the duffle bad and your other favourite weapons in another bag and returned in under a minute. Natasha let out a chuckle, she should have known an assassin was always prepared to flee. Something they all knew, never get too comfortable.

Natasha led you out of your apartment, you close the door behind you both and follow her. It felt strange to be taking from directions from anyone else. Besides HYDRA you had always been the person in charge, choosing what you did without direction. But unless you miraculously knew how you’d be getting back to the Avengers compound this seemed like a time you would have to not be stubborn.

She led you to a jet, gesturing you to get on before she did herself. She walked to the front closing the door and sitting in the pilot’s seat. “Feel free to have a sleep.” She said casual pointing to the bed next to you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled going and lying down. After having no sleep, you wouldn’t complain, and it would save you having to make small talk with Natasha. Plus, usually you didn’t have nightmares in you ever occasionally napped.

Natasha answered a call and began telling someone (who you assumed was Fury) that you were coming back with her, just as your eyes were filled with the darkness of sleep.

1943

You woke up once again your entire body in pain. Although this time it was different, and though you remembered where you were much of your memories were feeling fuzzy. Like someone had attempted to begin removing them.

That couldn’t be possible though, could it?

There was an ache on your face, remembering your last memory before you had been engulfed in darkness again. You were sure there would be marks from whatever machine had done that to you, wincing at the thought of the pain again.

But besides there being the same pains you had felt before, there was something different. You were still restricted by your arms and legs in the same position but now you had a heart monitor attached, the faint beeping being the only noise you could hear in the silent and dark room. This wasn’t a room though, it was a lab you knew that now, and you were a lab rat to the red skull and his scientists. Why would they care if my heart is still beating? You pondered.

Once again you pushed against your restraints in an attempt to get out, the leather digging into your skin causing you to wince due to how in pain your body already was. But again as you’d thought earlier, there was something different, yes your arms were wincing at the pain from the leather but your legs felt nothing. You moved your toes and felt no sensations. It was as if they were numb. What had HYDRA done?

As if on cue the laboratory door opened, the same scientist from before entering and two soldiers following behind him. The door slammed closed as the soldiers stayed there on each side of the door. Just in case you got out of your restraints again.

The scientist shuffled forward. “How are you feeling y/n? I realised I forgot the other day to introduce myself, I’m Arnim Zola but you can call me Doctor Zola.”

You sneered as his friendly attitude, causing him to frown. “I can’t feel my legs.” You responded in a harsh tone, “Why?”

“Well y/n, I told you that you would become a soldier for the red skull did I not? Now I understand you’re a ballerina but there’s something wrong with this. You see you always want to be perfect, and what makes you not is among many things your feet.” He looked down proudly at your legs.

The words rang in your ear. Your harsh glare to seem mean had softened as your eyes began to water. “Wh-- what have you done?” You began blubbering, your chest fell up and down panic striking your lungs.

“I’ve made you perfect.” He responded without remorse. Instantly he signalled for the men that had been stood by the door this entire time to come over. They did so, grabbing parts of your body so you were even more restricted that you already were as Doctor Zola walked to the foot of the table you were on. Slowly he undid one of the leather straps restricting your leg. You couldn’t even feel him doing it, your senses not working.

He lifted your right leg so that you could gaze down and what you saw only made your panic attack rise. You shrieked at the sight before you. Your eyes welling more and more with tears. You could hear the heart monitor beginning to pick up in noise, as you heart raced.

From halfway down your calf was what looked like a metal leg and foot. It looked exactly like what legs should be, but it wasn’t. It was silver and cold. Down the side of your calf nearing your ankle was a red star.

Tears rolled down your face as he placed your leg back down strapping it back up, then signalling the men holding you down to move away again.

You would have preferred to die then lose your feet. Your mind wandered as your chest rose and fell so quickly that the world around you began to spin. Would you ever be able to dance again?

Doctor Zola was now next to you again, his face held no remorse, in fact all you could see was pride. Even though the world was spinning, and you couldn’t focus on him you knew he didn’t care. “Don’t worry y/n, after today you won’t care about this. You won’t even remember who you are, only who we tell you are. From now on you aren’t y/n anymore. I’ll see you again when you’re ready to comply.”

The same machine from earlier then began to make noises lowering down to your head. Doctor Zola began rambling Russian words you couldn’t understand, the immense pain began again, and you screeched out in pain.

Present day; 2017

Gasping for air you shot up on the bed on the jet. Natasha looked back at you and instantly you dropped your fearful expression into one that was unreadable. No one would know your nightmares, no one could know you had weaknesses.

Luckily her gaze didn’t last long as she spoke up, “We’re here.” She was just glad she wouldn’t have to wake you up. She stood up, you following her lead out of the jet and towards a large white building with a big ‘A’ on the side.

“Jeez subtle.” You scoffed muttering under your breath.

She rolled her eyes at your comment but proceeded to walk into the building. “I’m sure you’ve heard about most of us. So, I feel there’s no need to explain to you, our names.”

She was right there, of course you knew their names, the whole world did. You hummed in response. She led you both to two big double doors pushing them open as you trailed behind. You may have been as assassin but that didn’t mean you were particularly keen on meeting new people, especially all at once. It took a while for people to come to your liking.

She stopped and you stood almost completely behind her looking down at your hands. You never looked at your feet anymore. The noise of all the voices talking amongst each other suddenly stopped and you could feel all of their eyes on you both.

“Everyone this is y/n, she’s going to help us with our current task we’ve been working on.” She spoke sternly but giving them all a small smile.

You raised your head reminding yourself to not be vulnerable and narrowed your eyes as you scanned them all. Of course, most of already knew who you were having read your files when she released them; each giving you sympathetic looks mixed with fear. But not Steve he never had the heart to look at yours and Bucky’s files. If he ever saw you both again, he knew in time you’d tell him.

Finally, you were met with a familiar set on blue eyes, not the ones you had fallen in love with but still ones who once meant so much to you. Now you weren’t so sure.

Steve looked like he was going to die of shock, as he stared at you with such intensity.

He took a step towards you, “y/n?”, his eyes searching for you to show some sort of emotion. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You took another step back, away from him, the hurt instantly flashing across his face, but as soon as it was there it was gone.

“Hi Steve.”

A/N: ooo we love the tension. how does reader know Natasha?? is it just cause she's an avenger or is it something else? I’ll guess you'll have to see *evil face*

P.S. we’ll see Bucky again soon I promiseeeee

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Taglist: (let me know if you want to be tagged)

@maybe-a-marvel @thatredlipped-classic @flightsandfantasy @7minutes-tomidnight @rebelemilu @cataves

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adhd-disaster-willie · 4 years ago

Text

you're the one that brings the sun; chapter 1/6

Summary: Alex is prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Willex roommate au!

Warnings: Swearing

Notes: The title is from the song “I Dare You” by the Regrettes. I’ve actually planned this fic out so here’s to hoping I don’t get burned out halfway through. It might end up having 6 or 7 chapters, 5 is kind of just an estimate.

---

When Alex was 11, his mother proudly plastered his report card to the fridge and exclaimed that one day, her little boy would go to Harvard. His father gripped his shoulder with pride and Alex beamed up at his parents like they’d just told him he had superpowers. 3 years later, he was 14 and teetering on the edge of failure in the majority of his classes. He wasn’t stupid by any means, just preoccupied. He’d started a band with his best friends and that felt like the most important thing in the whole world, and high school was new and scary, so it was easier to not pour all his focus into school. His parents’ smiles faltered but they kept up hope, Alex could tell. 2 years later, he stood shaking and crying outside of the Molina’s garage and suddenly, the concept of going to college begun to feel distant and fake. But he’s 18 now, and somehow, miraculously, gazing at the piles of boxes in the back of Ray’s car and swallowing down a lump in his throat.

It sure isn’t Harvard, but a part of Alex feels giddy at the fact that he’s attending a public college that was relatively easy to get into; oh his parents would be rolling in their proverbial graves. What didn’t make him quite so happy though, was the looming fact that he’d be living with some random person, because for some godforsaken reason, the college wouldn’t allow freshmen to choose their roomates. Some bullshit about meeting new people and socializing.

“Hey, ‘Lex. Dude, you’ll be fine.” Luke shakes his shoulders, before swinging one arm around him and the other around Reggie.

“Says the one who isn’t even going to college,” Alex grumbles, slipping from Luke’s grip and into the front seat of the car.

“Yea cause I don’t need it. Not my fault you’re both nerds,” Luke retorts.

“I’m not a nerd, I just like to have insurance-”

“Yea, back-up plan, safety net, heard it a million times. Reggie’s a nerd though.”

“Old news, dude,” Alex says.

“I am not a nerd!” Reggie protests indignantly.

“Tell that to your 2 years of college credit in math.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Nerd.”

“Math is fun!”

“You’re horrible.” Alex makes a mock gagging noise.

Julie comes bounding out of the house, her arms decked with various baked goods. She tosses herself in the backseat beside Reggie and Luke, looking quite pleased with herself at being able to force Luke to sit in the middle. “Tía was apparently up all night baking,” she explains, passing the sweets up to Alex. “Don’t be surprised if she shows up at your dorm with food every day.”

Alex snorts. “I would not object to that.”

Julie sighs, leaning back in her seat. “You guys are so lucky, I’m tired of high school. Damn September birthday,” Julie grumbles. Her birthday is just after the cut off date, so she would be 18 for the majority of senior year, but is just barely too young to be in the same grade as the boys.

Reggie leans over and pats her arm sympathetically, earning an offended squeak from Luke, who’s only pushed further into the back of the seat.

“Don’t worry!” Alex chirps sarcastically. “You get to spend more time with Luke, since he’ll be squatting in your garage!”

“Oh, joy,” Julie deadpans.

“I am not a squatter!” Luke protests, kicking the back of Alex’s seat.

“No kicking! I’m holding food!”

“Y’know Alex, you’ve been staying in the studio for 2 years, you’re not one to talk!” Luke argues.

“I have a job.”

“A stupid job.”

“A stupid job that gets you free coffee.”

Reggie nodds to that, chewing on a cookie. “Can’t risk losing your coffee privileges.”

Julie groans loudly and stuck her head out the window. “DAAAAD! Let’s goooo!” She cries.

“Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to get rid of me so badly,” Alex says, clutching his chest dramatically.

“Oh shut up Lexi, I just wanna meet your’s and Reggie’s new best friends!” Julie says, laughing.

“I’m not gonna be best friends with my roommate.”

“Yea, Alex forgot how to do that!”

“Luke I will smother you in your sleep!”

At this, Ray approaches the car with a raised eyebrow. “No one’s planning a murder, I hope?” He asks, chuckling as he slides into the drivers seat.

“No sir!” Reggie replies, grinning.

“Not yet,” Alex mumbles under his breath.

“Alright boys, who’s ready for college!” Ray says, starting the car.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

---

“And that’s the last of it!” Ray claps a hand over Alex’s shoulder and smiles encouragingly.

Alex nods tensely, gripping the strap of his fannypack tighter.

The dorm’s probably as good as he’s gonna get. One reasonably sized bedroom complete with two horribly uncomfortable beds, a kitchen with a fridge that was in no way large enough to fit even a weeks worth of meals, a tiny living room that would probably fit a couch and a TV at the most, and a bathroom that smelled suspiciously of mustard. Really it isn’t terrible, but Alex has a habit of noticing every little detail, especially the ones that could be a problem at some point. His roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so he’s standing amongst his various boxes, anxiety pulsing in his chest.

Julie grips his hand tightly and smiles, tears pricking the edges of her eyes. “Hey, Alex, you’re gonna be okay.” She squeezes his hand briefly.

Alex nods, exhaling shakily. “Yea, yea I know. It’s just…”

“A change, I know. But this is a good change. And-” she hauls Reggie and Luke over to them. “-we’re all here if you need to call someone and talk. And dad, and Tía, and I bet your roommate will be super cool.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“Just pray he’s not a football player,” Reggie stage-whispers, shuddering.

“God, don’t even suggest that!” Alex whines.

Encouragements and teary hugs are passed along, as well as a promise to meet at the Olive Garden nearby for dinner in a few hours, and then Alex’s posse is off to get Reggie settled, and Alex is left alone in the dorm. Alright.

Alex takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before beginning to wander the dorm. He’s anxious to start unpacking without his roommate and risk doing something that they wouldn’t like. Even choosing a bed feels wrong, he really doesn’t want to get off on the wrong foot with this person. But leaving the dorm meant people everywhere so that was a definite no. He sighs, lowering himself to the wooden floor and pulling out his phone.

“Yea… uh huh. Yes Caleb, I got here fine. No the Uber driver did not try and kidnap me. The boxes- the boxes are not too heavy. Okay. Okay. Yea, bye. Mhm.”

Alex looks up hesitantly upon hearing the voice nearing his dorm. The person standing in the doorway is well… less of a person and more of a large stack of boxes threatening to fall over any second. “Hello?” Alex stands up and makes his way to the boy stood in the entrance.

Said boy pokes his head out from behind his boxes and grins crookedly. “Hi, uh, I’m Willie!” And well, Alex is a goner. He swallows thickly, breath catching in the back of his throat. Willie attempts to adjust the boxes but ultimately fails, sending them tumbling to the ground amongst several muttered curses. “Well… nothing fragile in there,” he falters slightly. “I think.”

“Um…”

“Right! Sorry, uh.” Willie holds his hand out and Alex shakes it tentatively.

“Alex.”

“Alex, cool.” Willie smiles again, his dark eyes twinkling as he does so, smile lines popping out. He brushes his hair -which looks so soft and pretty- behind his ear to reveal a small golden hoop on his right lobe. Alex is dead, actually 100% dead. Because he’d been prepared for every single variable except, apparently, the one in which his roommate is drop dead gorgeous and Alex is an absolute clusterfuck of a human being who falls for the first pretty boy on he sees on campus.

Alex forces out a smile, all too aware that he’s still standing stiff and awkward in front of Willie, his grip on his fannypack tight enough to make his knuckles glow white. Then Willie coughs as some sort of attempt to fill the silence. “Sorry!” Alex squeaks. “Do you need help with the… the uh, boxes?”

“Oh yea, that’d be great!” Willie replies, beaming. “I don’t think there’s anything fragile in there, but y’know, my memory is absolute shit so if I broke some fancy china dishes I didn’t even know I owned, don’t be too shocked.”

Alex laughs anxiously. “Yea uh… I didn’t start unpacking cause I um… I didn’t want to claim a bed and stuff with-without your input?” His voice cracks at the end and he winces because Jesus fucking christ Alex.

Willie chuckles and Alex notes that he has the kind of laugh that echoes through your whole body and settles right in your heart. “ ‘S cool, man, I don’t mind.”

“Right, cool. Do you uh… are you okay if I take the bed farthest from the window? I’m not- not much of a morning person, and the window is… it’s east facing” Alex mutters, his gaze focused on his feet which are rocking back and forth at a rapid pace.

“Yea, of course,” Willie replies. “I don’t think I’ve woken up later than 8 in 5 years.”

“That’s horrific!” Alex cries, momentarily forgetting his anxiety. He steps back and blushes an even deeper red upon realizing how stupid he’s being. “I mean- I just… sorry, I just meant that-”

“You’re good, dude. I don’t bite.”

Alex cracks a tentative smile. “So uh… I’ll just start unpacking then.”

Willie shoots him a thumbs up and smiles once again, which is a thing he apparently does a lot.

An hour later, Alex’s belongings are unpacked and organized and the room feels a bit more his. He feels slightly lighter, exhaling and closing his eyes briefly. This isn’t so bad. Fiddling with the hem of his hoodie, he shuffles out into the living room where Willie is presumably unpacking. Except that he’s not.

Willie is laying upside down on a couch that somehow appeared while Alex was gone and he’s flipping through a tattered magazine while his belongings remain mostly unpacked.

“This quiz says that I should try roller skating,” Willie sniffs. “Some personality test this is- oh hey Alex!” He scrambles up so that he can look Alex in the eyes properly, and points to the magazine in his hand. “Found this in a box, not sure how it got there since I’ve never even subscribed to one of these, but there’s a chocolate chip cookie recipe in here.” He stops for a moment, pondering. “Personally I prefer peanut butter cookies, ooh especially fresh out of the oven. There’s this bakery near my house that-”

“Did you get… any unpacking done?” Alex asks, raising an eyebrow.

Willie looks around at his boxes and laughs sheepishly. “Well I unpacked one and opened 3 so… some, yes.”

“Where’d the couch come from?” Alex pokes the cushion warily, as if afraid that it’s full of bugs.

“Room across the hall,” Willie says, pointing. “They both brought couches and didn’t have room for two we got the one with more stains.”

“Right.” Alex’s reply is forced and tense, and he winces upon realizing. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected his roommate to become so comfortable so fast and he felt like he was several steps behind. Damn extroverts. Drumming his hands against his thighs, Alex slowly sits down on the other side of the couch, pointedly looking ahead instead of at Willie.

“So.” Willie scoots closer, sitting cross legged with his elbows on his thighs and chin resting in his palms. “What’s your major?”

Small talk, god Alex hates small talk. “Um, music,” he answers.

“Ah, that’s cool dude.” Willie nods.

“Uh, what about you?” Alex asks.

“Art,” Willie replies, grinning. “Be prepared for paint stains, like, everywhere.” He chuckles and nudges Alex’s shoulder playfully. Alex is going to implode, he’s sure of it.

Alex laughs awkwardly. “So uh… what’s wrong with rollerskating?”

Willie shoves his shoulder again. “Everything, dude! Well-” he cuts himself off, thinking. “-I just kinda suck at it, definitely better at my skateboard.” He jerks his head in the direction of a skateboard leaned against the wall and Alex wonders how he didn’t notice that.

“Oh, that’s- that’s cool. I rollerblade but I uh, I can’t skateboard to save my life.”

Somehow, they slip into a comfortable rhythm, and Alex notes that his anxiety no longer has him in a chokehold. Willie seems to have that affect; he’s just so… open. Alex doesn’t realize it yet, but he’s subconsciously created a folder in the back of his mind labelled “Willie,” and he doesn’t think he’s capable of forgetting anything Willie will ever say to him.

“- that’s why airplane food is just, horrible. Cause you basically lose like 30% of your tastebuds because of the elevation.” Willie smiles at Alex, gaging his response.

Alex would rather die than admit that he’s still trying to figure out how the topic of airplane food came up, so he just nods enthusiastically, actively stopping his eyes from dancing across Willie’s face, which is practically glowing in the evening sun. Evening. Shit. Alex pulls out his phone frantically. “Shit.” He says it out loud this time.

Willie’s brow furrows in confusion. “You good, dude?”

“Uh yea I’m just, I’m supposed to be meeting my fam- uh my friends for dinner and I have to be there in like 5 minutes.” He ignores the way Willie’s expression falls, convinced he’s just seeing things.

“Yea um, of course. I won’t keep you.” Willie stands up, his posture the stiffest that Alex has seen it in the whole 3 hours they’ve been acquainted for. “I’ll just… order a pizza.”

Alex hesitates in the doorway, weighing his options, which has never been his strong suit. “Do you want to join me?” He blurts impulsively. Willie looks at him in surprise. “I mean only- only if you want of course, we’ve only really uh, known each other for a few hours and you- you probably don’t want to, it was stupid. I’ll just- I’ll just go-”

“No! I’d… I’d like to, eating pizza alone in the dark sounds a little pathetic,” Willie responds.

Alex smiles genuinely. “Ok, ok that’s uh. Cool. That’s cool.”

---

Alex is already regretting this. The restaurant isn’t too crowded, he notices with a relieved breath. But it’s loud. It’s loud and yet only one group of people is talking. Alex doesn’t even need to guess who.

“Ok but- no- no- the whole song would be better!”

“Say banjo one more time, I dare you!”

“Banjo.”

“Julie, what the hell?! This is betrayal!”

“You stole my breadstick, it’s only fair.”

Alex coughs, quieting the table to a dull roar.

“Alex!” Julie pulls him down to sit next to her. “Oh? Who’s this?” Reggie is grinning wickedly and Luke waggles his eyebrows in a way that makes Alex want to shave them off.

“This is uh, my roommate Willie,” Alex responds, his voice raising an octave. “He didn’t have plans so I uh… I invited him, I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok!” Julie pats the space on the other side of Alex and Willie sits down, appearing… oddly nervous.

“Congrats! Your Alex’s first new friend since,” Luke taps his chin, pretending to think. “7th grade.”

Alex’s face promptly falls into his hands. He’s seriously considering the whole, shaving Luke’s eyebrows in his sleep thing.

Reggie leans forward conspiratorially. “What’s your opinion on banjos?” He asks, making a point to ignore Luke’s dramatic complaining.

Willie raises his eyebrows, clearly confused. “Um. No comment?”

“I’m… sorry about them,” Alex says apolegetically. “Uh, this is Luke, Reggie, and Julie-” he gestures to each of them; Reggie waves, beaming happily. “-and Julie’s dad should be…” He trails off, looking around.

“He had to take a phone call, something about Carlos refusing to eat dinner until he proves the house is haunted,” Julie explains, clearly biting back a laugh.

“I… okay.” Alex shakes his head. “Are we waiting for more food or did Reggie eat it all?”

“Ha ha,” Reggie punctuates his statement by sticking out his tongue. “We’re waiting for the actual meals-”

“Yea Luke already ate the entire bread basket.” Julie shoots a glare in Luke’s direction.

“Well… you suggested we get hotdogs,” Luke grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Payback.”

“Okay,” Julie laughs.

Willie leans over to whisper loudly to Alex, “What’s the story with the hotdogs?”

“Don’t tell him!” Luke cries, leaning across the table and slamming his palms down.

“We don’t talk of the hot-dogs,” Reggie mutters miserably.

“Food poisoning.” Alex shudders slightly. “Very bad food poisoning.”

“We almost died,” Reggie says, eyes widening. “Like, for real death. I’m pretty sure I was a ghost for a few seconds.”

“Reg, you were not a ghost,” Alex says, speaking like Reggie’s a 10 year old talking about monsters under his bed.

“I was!”

“You were not!”

“So,” Luke smiles mischievously, taking Reggie and Alex’s bickering as an opportunity to apparently torture the latter. Despite Alex’s warning glares, he turns to Willie with an innocent expression. “What kind of music do you like?”

“Luke,” Alex hisses, all too familiar with Luke’s antics.

“Hmmm.” Willie is painfully oblivious to Alex’s panicked expression as he mulls over his answer. “A lot of stuff really.” He shrugs. “Rock, pop, I like those lo-fi playlists when I’m trying to study.”

Luke nods, clearly pleased with the answer, but he isn’t done and Alex wants to hide under the table. He knows what’s coming next. “Thoughts on… drummers?”

“Luke.” Alex is seconds from lunging across the table.

“Drummers?” Willie asks, tilting his head confusedly.

“Yup,” Luke says, popping the p and still smiling like he’s some sort of innocent puppy-dog and not an absolute bastard.

“Hot,” Willie jokes. Alex can’t even hide the way he manages to choke on his own spit, and Luke and Reggie have never been great at subtlety, turning to Alex with matching shit-eating grins. Willie either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to comment on it. “Yea, pretty sure young Roger Taylor was my gay awakening.”

Reggie is full on giggling now, and Alex’s entire face is gleaming a bright red. Willie glances around the table, puzzled.

“Mhm.” Luke nods before swiftly turning to Alex. “Hey Alex, by the way, you left your drumsticks in the car, do you need them back?” His voice is sickeningly sweet, coated in some sort of poisoned honey. It’s Willie’s turn to choke on nothing, failing to disguise it as a spontaneous coughing fit.

“Fine,” Alex squeaks as he sinks further down in his seat. If he pulls out his phone and messages Luke a flurry of threats, that’s no one’s business. He dares a glance at Willie, who has become quite fascinated with his hands, which are tapping out a mindless rhythm on the table, his cheeks and the tips of his ears dusted red.

Needless to say, Alex makes sure Luke doesn’t even get to look at the next bread basket.

---

I hope you liked it! Tell me if you want to be added to the taglist :)

I’m hoping to update at least once a week, but who knows. Ok thats all.

chapter 2

Chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

#willex #jatp #willex fic #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms #alex mercer #willie jatp #willie nolastname #julie molina #luke patterson #reggie peters #ray molina #willow writes #ytotbts #you’re the one that brings the sun

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writing-in-april · 4 years ago

Text

Star Wars vs. Star Trek

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

This is my entry for the secret fic swap that was organized by the ever amazing @imagining-in-the-margins

The person I got was- @sunlight-moonrise who is an amazing little bunny that I love

Thankies all around to my lovely helpers @definitelynotkatesblog , @clean-bands-dirty-stories and @httpnxtt Plus I was inspired by all the asks that @reidscardigan gets, it fuels my smutty thoughts!

Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, Rough sex, Impact play (on the heavy side), Face fucking, Light degradation, Choking, Bruising/Marking, Hair Pulling, Unprotected sex, and Orgasm Denial

A/N: I had a great time writing this I think its one of my best works! Feel free to drop a request in my inbox if you have a request (No duplicate requests please)

Word count: 3.6K

Masterlist

Spencer and I finally have some vacation time, and my god it feels like it’s been forever. We both worked ridiculously hard at the BAU, so Hotch had finally determined that it was time for the team’s mandatory two-week break this year.

As soon as we got home the both of us stripped of our work clothes and cuddled up on the couch to watch some movies. Spencer had the remote in his hand scrolling through to find a movie, the cursor landed on Star Trek. I could feel his puppy dog eyes looking up at me through his glasses that he only wore at home trying to convince me into letting him choose it. “Noooo Spencer, we watched it last week” I groaned. Sometimes it felt like your relationship was Spencer and Spock, and you as the delightful third wheel. “Ok what about a different one? We don’t have to watch any of the vintage ones, the new movies aren’t my favorite but they’re still extraordinary pieces of film art!” he ranted enthusiastically. “No, why don’t we watch Star Wars?” I begged, he knew it was my favorite but still insisted that Star Trek was better. “No, because I know you’ll ask to watch the sequels and I don’t like them, the story is just a repeat of the originals.” his eyes rolled and I was surprised they didn’t get stuck in the back of his head. Spencer and I have had this argument many times. The back and forth on which series was better was exhausting but so exhilarating. “Star Wars looks better, has better music, and better plot lines overall!” My voice slightly raised, I hated it when he tried to prove me wrong about this. Star Wars was my cemented favorite just as his was Star Trek. “Star Wars has straight up inaccuracies while Star Trek has improbabilities, not outright errors.” Spencer snarked back. I could tell neither of us were going to win this debate anytime soon. We always ended up in a shouting match about why we thought our favorite series was better. “Fuck you! I’m right, Star Wars is so much better! I mean look at Kylo Ren, he’s so much better then Kirk or Spock!” Spencer’s face turned into an expression mixed with jealousy and rage. “And look how good he looks during that interrogation scene!” I continued. “You think he’s hot?!” He accused profiling the look I had on my face as I was talking about Kylo “What are you jealous of a fictional character?” I asked mockingly, a knowing smirk adorning my face. Maybe I could get him riled up enough to get something else out of tonight. “N-no of course not that’s absurd!” He squeaked out, giving away how he truly felt. A coquettish smirk grew on my face as I got an evil idea. I deftly snuck my hands into my sleep shorts, slipping under my cotton panties and started to rub soft circles on my clit, not fully giving myself the stimulation that I desired. Spencer’s eyes bugged out of his head getting whiplash from the conversation switch. “Kylo” I moaned out with a simper, gathering my slick arousal I slid down my folds, pushing a finger inside, immediately crooking the digit to locate my g spot. I wanted to push Spencer to the edge of jealousy till he snapped. He got practically feral if I worked him up enough. I continued my descent into a selfish climax- adding another finger, as I picked up the speed of my thrusts into my dripping heat. My mind was so lost in the pleasure I forgot Spencer was there- until my hand was violently jerked from my pussy by a tight clasp on my forearm, just before I was about to fall into bliss. “What do you think you're doing?” Spencer spat.

That voice was usually reserved for unsubs, which served to further dampen my panties, his mind had switched into his dominant persona that was prevalent in the bedroom. “Just indulging myself, Spencer, since you won’t.” I bit back, irritated I’d been brought back from the edge of toe-curling bliss. He shot me a harsh look and tightened his grip on my arm, a warning if you will. I could tell I had just gotten myself into deep trouble, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to rile him up further. “Get in the bedroom and strip. You’ve earned yourself a punishment, brat.” His tone had gotten down right deadly at this point, but I didn’t let that deter me. I was on a mission. I decided to further dig myself in a hole by ignoring his order, simply crossing my arms and turning my head away. I could feel his bitter gaze boring into the back of my skull as I continued to defy his order, my excitement pooling in anticipation for the brutal punishment I’d surely earned. We sat like that for a while- refusing to break out of my sass, and him making sure that I was really ready for what he had in store for me. My legs started to squirm, the tension was almost unbearable. Just before I was about to give him another smart remark his other hand shot out to my leg, holding it firmly so I was no longer moving. A surprised squeak escaped my lips as Spencer flipped me onto my stomach, my knees coming to rest on the floor and my chest pressed into the couch. I tried to regain my balance in an attempt to crawl away from him but he quickly moved to hover over my form, boxing me in with his arms. “Are you trying to get in more trouble, Dolly?” he asked, his tone dark and condescending. A pathetic little whimper escaped my throat. When I failed to reply quick enough by his standards, a large palm came down on my backside, forcing an answer out of me.

“Yes! I’m sorry Sir, I was trying to get in t-trouble.” “Tsk tsk. Only bad girls like punishment, Doll.” He sounded disappointed. I dug my nails into the plush and hid my face into the cushion, trying to escape from under his heavy gaze. He pulled my hands to rest behind my back, tying my hands with what felt like a drawstring from sweatpants. He’d learned to improvise during our time together; had he left to find more appropriate rope, there was no guarantee I’d be in the same position he left me in by the time he got back. He snaked his hands through my hair, yanking hard to pull my body flush against his own. “Color?” He asked quickly, checking in with me, which only made the situation hotter-what can I say? Consent is sexy. “Green” I replied with a grin. Being disciplined was always exhilarating. “What’s my punishment, Sir?” He let go of the grip on my hair, his hands swiftly moving to remove my shorts and now soaked cotton thong, revealing my bare bottom to him. I rubbed my legs together trying to get some sort of friction but was interrupted by Spencer wrenching my legs apart. “You do that again I’ll add 20 more and you’ve already earned yourself 40- plus a little extra something.” His words hummed against the shell of my ear, sending a shiver trickling down my spine. I groaned in protest and tried to wiggle myself away from him, his hand coming down onto my left cheek in response. “Doll-“ He warned sharply. “If you keep this up I won't let you cum for a week.” His words shook me to my sassy core; I was greedy and there was no way I was going to get myself in more trouble. “I’m sorry...” I muttered into the couch cushion. “Say it louder, Dolly.” The sing song tone/cadence of his voice felt like a trap- contrasted to his previously dark tone and warning smack brought down on my backside. “I’m really sorry, Sir!” I shouted. With my cry, I gave up control to Spencer entirely. He loved when I acted like this, no matter how angry he pretended to be. “Do you mean it this time?” I could hear the devilish smile on his lips. “Yes!” I confirmed on a shaky breath. I was done fighting him. “You’re so good to me a-and I shouldn’t have tried to make you jealous.”

Although he couldn’t see my eyes, I put on my biggest, sweetest set of puppy dog eyes to really drive my point home.

“So you’re going to sit pretty and take your spankings like a good girl, right?”

I nodded sheepishly, secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe if I was good enough that I might get to come tonight. He let me stew in my thoughts for a minute before resuming his assault on my behind. His hand gripped both cheeks into his palms, kneading the tender flesh that was about to be covered in black and blue handprints. As the first strikes landed on my right side, he grabbed a blanket for me to cuddle into as he landed each smack, his full strength being used in each one, exhibiting just how much I pissed him off. My nerves were prickling, my ass had already started to sting and he hadn’t even reached the 10th strike. I’d definitely be able to feel the pain for the next week- maybe longer. Teardrops started to coat from my lashes onto my cheeks as he switched to the left cheek. By the time he’d reached the halfway mark, the blanket had become soaked by my uncontrolled muffled sobs. His rhythm never faltered as he continued to pepper the now-raw skin of my bottom with more punishing blows. “What are you?” He finally spoke as he was nearing the end of his count, my fingers digging into my palms to help me get through the last few. “I’m a bad girl, Sir” I pathetically whimpered into the blanket.

A brutal THWACK landed against my backside, letting me know he was looking for me to use my big girl voice. A sob raked through my chest, sending more tears down the blushed apples of my cheeks. “I’M A BAD GIRL, SIR!” My bruised bottom felt like it had been burned by hot coals with welts forming as evidence, as Spencer drew out the last few at a languid pace. When he finally finished, he dropped his head down to plant kisses on each injured cheek, a sign of appreciation for behaving. “You dirty girl, you're getting off to this ” He said matter of factly, moving to run his finger through my drenched folds, his fingers probed my entrance trying to get me more worked up. Surging forward, he replaced his fingertips with his tongue stirring a fire deep in my belly, placing delicate kitten licks along my folds. My body writhed against his touch and for a moment, I thought I might get off easy. Until, again, he pulled away just as I was about to shatter into a million pieces. “Sirrrrr, please?” I begged, my clit was throbbing in tandem with the blood pounding under the skin of my raw and tender bottom. His threat from earlier became evident- he wasn’t going to let me cum easily. “No, Doll, you still haven’t proven that you’re sorry enough.” He roughly yanked me off the sofa, positioning me on my knees in front of him, his clothed cock sitting right in my eye-line. The sweatpants that he had dawned were taken off quickly, I drank in the sight of his hard cock through tear-stained eyes. “Color?” He asked while cradling my jaw. The realization hit me, and I became blissfully aware of one thing: he was about to fuck my face. “Green.” I was always happy to give Spencer pleasure, and to see all the power just my mouth had over him was insanely erotic to me. He gripped his cock in one hand, pulling my chin down to open my mouth with the other. I stuck out my tongue for him and leaned forward, wrapping my lips around the head of his erection to begin gently sucking. Precum filled my mouth as I started to bob my head, working my way farther down his length each time until I reached the base of his cock. I choked slightly, my nose nuzzling against the hairs of his waistline. He gripped my hair on both sides with each of his hands and did a shallow experimental thrust forward, giving me a taste of what was coming. My eyes screwed shut as he set a fast pace, his tip hitting the back of my throat, tears starting to prick at the corners of my eyes again. The hardwood grinding against my knees sourced a new pain, but all I was focused on was the cock being shoved down my throat and pleasuring the man it was attached to. “Open your eyes, Doll. I want you to see what you do to me.” I glanced up with my glassy red rimmed eyes to gaze at the beautiful sight of Spencer, his head was tilted back, sweat coating his ruffled curls, with his mouth hung open in a silent gasp. Even through my tears I could see this man was an angel. I groaned, somehow I was even more turned on, so much so that I could feel a pool forming on the floor from my arousal. He rutted harder into my mouth signaling that he was close to his release, drool was now dripping from the sides of my mouth, wetting the thin material of my pajama top. Hot spurts shot down my throat with a strangled cry from him. Tasting his salty release on my tongue, I drank him in, savoring every last drop he had to give me. As he pulled himself out of my mouth, the string of spit connecting my lips to the head of his cock snapped, falling down my chin. Saltwater still cascading down my cheeks met with the mess on my chin, creating a messy mixture. Spencer pressed a thumb to my cheek, pushing the few drops of cum that escaped along with some spit into my mouth. “You being a cry baby, Dolly?” he cooed condescendingly, wiping away the drops that accumulated onto my cheek bones as I sent him a little pout. “You should’ve thought about the consequences before you broke the rules, Doll.” Turning me around, he pressed my chest into the coffee table across from the couch. Though I still had on my shirt, the cold surfaces rubbed against my sensitive nipples making them harden to a peak. He hadn’t done anything for a minute, so I tried to turn my head to see what he was doing. I was met with a harsh tug at my jaw forcing it to prop up facing the tv. The television flicked to life flooding the screen with the Disney+ logo I tried to glance back again to shoot him an incredulous look, but again I was repositioned roughly to stare at the screen. He clicked through until landing on the Force Awakens. My brows furrowed, but I decided not to push my luck by asking any questions. He pressed play and started fast forwarding until he landed on the scene I had been referencing that got in me trouble in the first place. Kylo Ren graced the screen, starting his interrogation with Rey. Was he going to sit here and make me watch it? Was he going to let me cum? Or was he going to edge me the whole night and hang me out to dry? I was snapped out of my thoughts by a tug at my neck, his palms wrapping around like a necklace, pulling my torso up so that my eyes locked perfectly to the moving figures on the screen. “You think he could fuck you better then I can, Doll?” he ground out. “That pathetic boy compensates with his saber, yet you have the whole package right here sweetheart.” I gasped and wriggled at his words, becoming down right desperate to have him do anything to me. He finally relented, dragging his free hand up my folds, still just barely touching me- ghosting around my clit. He sucked dark bruises into my neck, and as his teasing touches continued, I impatiently whined. “Please, Sir I need you.” “Why should I? You have Kylo don’t you?” “I already said I’m sorry, Sir! And I mean it really!” My begs filled our apartment, loud enough to completely mask the sound of the movie. I had been completely ignoring the film, focusing solely on trying to gain some sort of pleasure from the man endlessly denying it. “Ok, Dolly but only if you promise to never do it again.” I tried my best to nod against his vise grip on the column of my throat. He deftly snuck two fingers into my pussy, fitting snugly inside of me causing my body to unconsciously move my lower half against him. He started to pump and curl them, expertly hitting the perfect spot each time making stars appear behind my eyes. Suddenly he removed his fingers, quickly replacing it with something far more satisfying before I could complain. His cock bottomed out, filling me to the hilt eliciting a surprised squeak from me. He always made me feel so full-it felt like heaven. His hips propelled forward starting a rough rhythm that left almost no room to breathe, the movie had been completely muffled by our moans and sounds of slapping skin, a heavy dose of sex lingering in the air. His thrusts were irritating the already brutalized flesh off my ass, but the stinging sensation just aided in ecstasy that flowed through my veins. “You look so much prettier with these bruises.” He grunted as I tried to arch my back to a steeper angle so I could take him as deep as possible. “It shows everyone who’s mine, even if they are a fictional character.” Spencer was repeatedly hitting my g spot sending me closer and closer to the edge, but I knew I had to ask permission before I came. “Please, Sir, Please! I’m so close! Can I cum?” “Why do you think you deserve to cum Doll?” He asked, I should’ve known he was still going to throw one last tease in before letting me orgasm. “Because- I - I don’t know I just need it!” I let out a frustrated sob as he continued to thrust with reckless abandon. “Ok. Doll. Let. Go.” he said, accentuating each word with a sharp rock with his hips. My eyes rolled far into the back of my head as I was sent careening into pleasure, the coil that sat deep in my belly snapped, sending me into violent waves of pleasure. As I rode out my delicious high, Spencer’s hips stuttered and the grip on my neck was tightened as he shot ropes into me, stuffing me to the brim. He let go of my neck letting me relax my head onto the table. I’m sure I had a messy, freshly-fucked look on my face but I couldn’t be bothered to care.“Have you learned your lesson?” He asked once he had caught his breath. I nodded meekly, knowing full well I’d be back on my brattiest behavior as soon as these bruises faded. We both groaned as he slipped his softening cock from out of my folds. He slowly padded away to grab his items for aftercare-my favorite part. I had never had a partner show so much care for me like Spencer had. He came back with everything he needed and got to work, starting by cleaning my folds with a washcloth, then switching to a fresh one wiping the tears and spit away from my face. Aloe that he had made sure to warm up was then squirted onto my cheeks, he rubbed the liquid in softly massaging the abused flesh with gentle care. My limbs still felt like jello when it was time to stand, so Spencer helped guide me into new clean pajamas, he even made sure to pick out the velvet ones I liked, they always felt like little soft caresses were being peppered against my skin when I wore them. “You ok, Doll? You haven’t said anything.” He whispered gently, as if afraid he’d startle me. “Yeah” I croaked.My voice had been thoroughly abused throughout the night making rasp harder than normal. “Just feel a little woozier than normal.” He quickly enveloped my form into a hug, drawing me in close so I could smell the cologne that made itself a part of everything he owned. Sitting us both down on the couch, he found as many blankets and as possible making a little fort of warmth around us.

“I’m sorry I was harsh, Doll.” “No no, I liked it, it was just intense.” My scratchy voice obviously made him cringe. “So you are jealous of a fictional character?” I cheekily quipped to try and cheer him up. He let out a chuckle in response and started to ghost little butterfly kisses all across my face.

“I love you,” he whispered between kisses. “Sing to me?” I asked softly. I cherished his horrible singing with all my heart, it made me soft and mushy on the inside. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you, please don’t take my dolly away.” I started to drift to sleep even though I was fighting to giggle at Spencer’s croaky singing. Despite his god awful singing in my ear, sleep found me, whisking me away to the land of sweet dreams. I drifted off in his arms, knowing I was his good girl- knowing he would love and cherish me until the ends of the Earth.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds smut #Smut #fluff #aftercare #spencer reid fluff #comfort #criminal minds fanfiction

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ezrasarm · 4 years ago

Text

Only You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demi fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Frankie stands up for you when Tom acts out of line.

Warnings: Conflict, Tom being a dick, swearing, ✨protective✨ Frankie, fluff

A/N: There seemed to be some interest in a continuation of More Than Friends and a thought popped into my head so here it is! This is set an undefined period of time after More Than Friends. If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious …or you have HC ideas ...or just want to scream. AH! I almost forgot to thank @dishonouringmycow for beta reading, helping me with ideas and the ‘plot a murder’ line!

[Masterlist]

“You’re a woman, right?” Tom says abruptly from across the table a few moments after the conversation seemed to have lulled itself to a pause. Taking a few moments to notice you were in fact the only apparent woman at the table for him to be addressing, you nodded.

“Last I checked, yeah.” You laugh, as Tom hunches over a little more to look down at his drink.

“Can I get an opinion on something?” He asks, glancing up at you as he resettled his grip on the bottle between his hands. You give Frankie, who was sat next to you in the booth with an arm looped around your shoulders a subtly confused glance to see if he knew what this was about only to get a shrug in return.

“I’ll try my best,” you say as he reaches for his phone and places it in front of you to swipe between two photos. You didn’t exactly know who they were of, but you recognized what was happening immediately. Tom had talked your ears off about his wife’s affair at this point. He was obsessed and while you, Frankie and the rest of the guys had tried to be supportive at first, it was becoming more and more of a concern to you all. You had thought you would bring it up with him tonight when you saw him but when you got to the bar and he seemed fine- cheerful even, you thought maybe he had made some progress. Maybe you didn’t need to intervene. That was until you looked down at the phone.

“Tom,” You sigh, looking between the pictures of two men you had never seen before. The ones you assumed he suspected his wife was cheating on him with. “I’m not Molly.” You say with a sympathetic look in your eye when you look up at him again.

“Yeah, yeah, but if you had to choose.“ He said, waving away your comment to swipe between the two photos for you again. To choose? Choose what? Which one seemed most likely to wear flip flops instead of sneakers? Which one you would lend a quarter for a shopping cart at the grocery store? Which one you’d choose to help you plot a murder? You knew what he meant but you didn’t see how your answer would help, or if you even had an answer to give.

“I don’t know, they’re both good-looking I guess.” You shrug.

“Just pick one.” He insists a little more forcefully than before. You knew he wasn’t always the happiest drunk but you had never seen him this way before and you weren’t a fan.

“I think there’s a lot more that goes into your wife’s decision to sleep with another man than appearances.” You interjected. You didn’t know Molly particularly well and you weren’t defending her but you knew Tom hadn’t been acting like much of a husband in recent years and who were you to blame if she went looking for affection elsewhere.

“You’re overcomplicating the question.” He groans in frustration. “Don’t worry about Frankie, he’s got thick skin. He knows you’re looking.” Looking? Looking at what exactly? The ceiling? The ground? The bottom of your glass in hopes that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you and you might be able to drop the subject? You’d hardly noticed the way your hand squeezed Frankie’s a little tighter under the table much less if it was reassurance for him or yourself but you could feel your patience running thinner as what had started out as mild irritation morphed into sheer discomfort with the situation.

“Tom, I know nothing about these people!” You scoff far more defensive than you had been before. You didn’t want to have to make up an answer but you were getting pretty darn close. You could understand aesthetically. Guy number one’s hair was nice to look at, guy number two had kind eyes, guy number one had a little bit of scruff that reminded you of Frankie, guy number two wore a Black Keys shirt that you liked. None of these things made you feel anything though. Not like Frankie did. But Frankie wasn’t the answer to the question Tom was pressing you with.

“No- Just at a glance, gut reaction, which one would you rather fuck?” He says and you’re not sure if your mouth drops from the shock of him asking you that point-blank or at the gall he would need to have had to ask you such a thing in front of your boyfriend but before you can even think to come up with an answer, Frankie steps in.

“Tom!” He snaps. “She doesn’t want to answer the question! Now back off.” He says quite firmly. Something you knew wasn’t easy for him given that he was a close friend and someone he looked up to. He thinks that should be the end of it but Tom is quick to try and wave it off as though Frankie was the one acting out of line.

“C’mon man! Let her speak for herself!“ He says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat a little more.

“Tom, you’re drunk, you’re pissed off and you’re hurting but that does not give you the right to harass my girlfriend!”

“Harass your girlfriend? All I did was ask her a question-”

“Her answer is not going to change what happened!” Frankie just shy of shouts, managing to turn a couple of heads from nearby tables. You realize now that the frustration that had been building up over Tom’s pity party for the past three months had been affecting Frankie as bad if not worse than it had you. “It’s not!” He reiterates a little quieter now as though trying to recover from his sudden outburst. “Your wife screwed another man. That fucking sucks but it’s not going to undo itself anytime soon. So I don’t know what you need to do to process that but you’ve gotta get this out of your system and figure out a game plan for what you’re gonna do next because you are making it harder and harder for us to feel sorry for you right now.” Frankie lets out a heavy sigh and a slight shake to his head when he brings the bottle that his grip had tightened on so much throughout the conversation that his knuckles had gone white, up to his lips.

You watch as Tom’s jaw ticks to the side and he smooths a hand over his face, a minuscule nod as his gaze drops to the table. The silence hangs thick in the air for what feels like an eon until Benny shoulders into the booth on the other side of you just about squishing you against Frankie who has since adopted a similar posture to Tom.

“Who died?” He asks, tossing you a goofy look that makes a smile tempt your lips as you shake your head and Will slides in across the table from you.

“No one.” You assure him as you graciously accept the fresh drink Will places in front of you. “Speaking of not dead... Anyone heard from Santiago recently? It’s been a while, he’s got me worried.” You say in an attempt to change the topic despite you and Frankie both knowing you had spoken to him hardly 24 hours ago. Your attention seems to slip away from the response though when Frankie’s hand squeezes your knee in a silent thank you and you let your face tug into a soft smile when you look up at him, content that you’ve successfully changed the topic and made it stick.

***

“I’m sorry,” You hear Frankie say from next to you as you make your way out the door armed with the excuse of having to work in the morning when in reality you could sense that you and Frankie both were getting a little tired of being social tonight.

“For what?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as the cool air hits you and you plunge your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you in there.” Frankie clarifies and you find yourself stopping halfway across the slowly emptying paring lot to turn and face him.

“He’s going through a lot right now.” You reply carefully, your exasperation from earlier having worn off by now only to leave the pity you had felt when he let his gaze drop after Frankie had told him off.

“That’s not an excuse for his behaviour though.” Frankie insists and you nod.

“Maybe not.” You muse. “But I know how much he means to you and I don’t want to get between that.” You shrug. “He needs you.” You say. “He needed to hear that from you.” You clarify, reaching your hand out to lock your fingers in his. Knowing Frankie he’s likely beating himself up over snapping at him like that already when you’re sure his conscience should be clear. He did everything right. “Thank you for standing up for me.” You smile on a lighter note and watch as a similar expression brightens up his features.

“You know I’ve always got your back, right?” He asks and you nod in return, hardly realizing the way your feet have managed to shuffle you closer to him as he dips his head down to kiss you. You can just about feel his breath fanning your upper lip when-

Bonk

The bill of his cap collides with your eyebrow and you both break out laughing, your hand bracing you on his arm as you hunch over in hysterics and you wind up stumbling slightly with the few drinks in you before you bump into his chest which still shakes as he holds you to him in an attempt to keep you both from toppling over. You’ve hardly recovered before he musters a “Is this better?” and you glance up to see the salt-stained cap placed backwards on his head instead which only makes you burst out laughing again as you flip it around to place it backwards on your own head.

“I far prefer being able to do this anyway.” You hum through your persisting smile when you slide your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair.

“This is a good look for you.” He teases, eyelids lazy with contentment as his hands grip your hips and tug you just a little closer to him.

“You’re a dork.” You beam with an amiable shake of your head “Let me kiss you.” You plea and he obliges.

You pick Frankie.

[Masterlist]

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andromedasstarship · 4 years ago

Text

in the stars - chapter 2

photo credits - @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language

summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.

a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.

blog rules

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

chapter 1 // chapter 3

-----

Chapter 2

Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart.

Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape.

“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.

“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-”

“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through.

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy.

“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?”

His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting.

“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line.

----

Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case.

That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you. Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now?

Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

----

You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction.

It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point.

The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore.

----

When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance.

Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies.

Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you.

You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again.

“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye.

“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper.

The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing.

“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?”

The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?”

You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now.

----

“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.”

That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you.

----

Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats.

One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.

Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.”

“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3.

It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.”

Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.

Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now.

You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips.

“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart. “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place.

You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates.

“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence.

As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good.

----

Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents.

Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake.

----

Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.

You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-”

“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ.

You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish?

“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go.

“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there?

“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth.

Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or-

“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.

----

a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #'stori writes #in the stars

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peaches-writes · 4 years ago

Text

meeting points

description: because overcoming heavy traffic is the new crossing oceans for people member: jisung / han genre: fluff, college au, not-so-long distance au, city life au, best friends to lovers au word count: 9.4k warning: explicit language, drinking, suggestive, food, traffic, heights, a clown note: i want to throw fists at han jisung but like with affection y’know

one - a new cafe

For almost 2 years now, you and Jisung have what Seungmin has once referred to as a semi-long distance friendship—only semi since you attend universities literally 20 minutes away from each other when there’s no traffic and friendship because, well, you’ve been best friends since high school. It’s not that you don’t have other friends who attend SNU like him or vice versa (but Yonsei University); rather, it’s that Jisung is the slowest replier in the world and you’re the second clingiest person in the world (just behind Hyunjin). Seeing each other in person as much as you can is an absolute must in order to keep Jisung from fully becoming one with his dorm, you sane from the academic pressure of tertiary education, and your overall friendship afloat. College students need to stick together somehow.

Unless it’s a bigger hangout with your mutual friends, you alternate locations depending on who has a heavier deadline to attend to afterward. When Jisung finds himself struggling to finish a song or needs to be at the campus radio station with the rest of 3racha later on, it’s you taking the bus to his university dorm; when it’s you slumped on term papers for your core subjects or on visual props your club needs, Jisung convinces Minho to let him carpool (since his night part-time job is on the way to your university).

But even then, it’s more often that you make the tedious travel. Like today.

On this particular day, it’s you seated on a bus and looking outside the window to pass the agonizingly slow time, sighing for the nth time at the evening rush hour. It’s only 6:20 PM on your phone and your bus is already on the connecting bridge but the endless sight of cars behind and ahead of you, against the darkness of the Han river and the bright city lights, doesn’t make you feel like you’ve crossed any distance. Jisung’s last text was a simple “stay safe” almost an hour ago when you got on the bus from the nearest stop outside your university.

The two of you are you supposed to try the new cafe inside his campus for dinner since your recent hangouts have only been inside his dorm (with Hyunjin too since they’re roommates), watching old movies and eating take-out until Jisung accidentally falls asleep from power working beforehand. It’s nearing the semester break and everyone’s been sort of busy at SNU, but lately, Jisung’s been actually making an effort to make time for you and insisting that you hang out at the expense of his sleep.

Backwards thinking but okay, you shrug one shoulder at the thought. You’ve talked about it once on call when his sudden initiative to meet started since you’re concerned about his well-being and that you have all the time in the world once break starts but Jisung unexpectedly fell asleep halfway and Hyunjin had to end the call. Two days later, Jisung texted you that he rented the movie you wanted to watch at the cinema for the weekend with an apology for falling asleep and assurance that he’s almost finished with his deadlines and that he’s asking you to hang out responsibly.

It’s not like you don’t like it, you are already on the way to SNU, after all. Besides, you’re still very much free from heavy academic and club activities since your professors scheduled their deadlines after the break and your club is not as active lately. Have fun now, suffer later as Seungmin and Changbin have told you when you told them your worries about Jisung’s sleep schedule.

After a while of trying to count the cars on the bridge as your lane moves a little faster now, you open your phone and message Jisung to pass the time. You don’t always expect that he replies but it’s always the most reassuring when it’s him you’re contacting, even when it’s just casual.

y/n: don’t u have radio tonight? [sent 6:32 PM]

You’ve heard 3racha’s campus radio show on the several times you hung out at SNU during the day. They air live on Friday nights, Saturday if most of the all-student crew are busy, but the meetings are rather frequent when nearing holidays so you’re careful of leaving on time even on a non-Friday weekday like this.

y/n: just crossed ynghwa

y/n: bus is driving steady now!!! aaaaak

jisung: almost typed ‘arent u supposed to be looking at d road’ then i rmmbr that u don’t have a car LOL [sent 6:56 PM]

y/n: so do u have a meeting later?

jisung: no

At their dorms, Hyunjin is out for the night to god knows where but Jisung is quite certain it’s not for studying since he was dressed to the nines. When he got a text from you, he slowly but surely forced himself to stand up from his work area to get dressed. Though he’s the one who insisted on hanging out, it doesn’t change the fact that leaving his work is hard when he’s in his ‘zone’ but he has to since the new cafe’s apparently a 3-minute walk from his dorm but he has to meet you at the bus stop first.

y/n: ur probs not even dressed yet

y/n: close that laptop nerd

Jisung couldn’t bring it in himself to reply because he was already preoccupied avoiding getting dissed by you again whenever he wears his favorite Supreme t-shirt.

You arrive at the bus stop at around 6:50 PM, just as Jisung arrives, panting heavily from running the remaining distance when he received an ‘almost there’ message from you. You offer him a bottle of water you forgot to take out from your backpack and he quickly swipes it from you, chugging down the contents as if his life depends on it. “Woah there, haven’t seen you in a long time. Drink slowly and breathe.” You rub his arm comfortingly as the two of you stand on the empty sidewalk. Behind you, your bus drives away. “You didn’t have to run, you know, I could’ve just met up with you wherever you are.”

He then stops drinking just to breathlessly say, “But it’s dark and there could be creeps out.”

You’re touched but still concerned. “Still. I have you on speed dial, remember?”

When Jisung’s fully recovered, the two of you walk to the cafe together, catching up on what’s happened in your own lives in the past week since you last met. There’s not much, actually, since Jisung really doesn’t go out often unless it’s for classes, the radio show, or some of his other friends insisted and you’re almost always with your dorm mates, Lia and Ryujin, or with Changbin, Seungmin, and Jeongin.

“Minho says they have good Americano.” Eventually you arrive and Jisung immediately points to the several posters on the window, showcasing the cafe’s specialty.

“And how many days have you been running only on Americano?” You point out in an almost scolding tone. You approach the counter now where there are barely any people in line since most customers are already seated.

“Not that long!” He holds up his hands in the air. “Just 2 weeks!”

“Jisung!”

He imitates you dramatically with,“Y/N!” to which you only roll your eyes to.

“Good evening, how may I take your order?” The barista asks.

Jisung opens his mouth to speak but you hold an arm in front of him and turn to the barista, “One pesto, one lasagna, the chicken wings for sharing, two glasses of water, one cheesecake, and one strawberry cake, please.”

“Y/N, this is a cafe, where their specialty is coffee.” Jisung teases dryly as the barista takes note of your order, a last attempt at getting himself another cup of Americano.

So without turning to him, you tell the barista, “Also, can you add an additional Americano—?”

“Finally—” “Two shots for me, not him.”

The barista only laughs at your banter. “Name please?”

“Y/N.”

While you’re conversing with the barista, Jisung shoots daggers to the side of your face, dramatically declaring, “I’m stealing your Americano.”

But you only drop your arm in front of him as the barista says, “That would be 12,000 won.”

“Oh, he’s paying.”

Either way, Jisung reluctantly pays with the sole motivation to get a sip from your iced Americano.

“Seriously, though, cut the Americano for a little while, maybe until finals.” You point out as you settle on a nearby table that has just been cleaned by staff. “Do you even know what a water dispenser looks like at this point?”

“I drink water.” He pouts, opting to sit down next to you to show that he really has all intents to steal your Americano. “It just doesn’t give me ideas for my projects.”

“You have one practical project due before the break. What about the other times you do work?”

“I do them quickly.”

You sigh in defeat. “Ah, seriously?”

When the barista calls for your name at the counter, Jisung holds you down by the shoulder and makes a run for the counter, taking a long sip of your Americano until you caught up to him.

“Success!” He exclaims, proud of himself, as he takes one of the two trays.

“Satisfied with your Americano?” You take the other tray in defeat, walking back to your table with him.

“Hm, I don’t knoooow.” He teases in sing-song, sitting next to you again instead of across from you as he would usually do. “You might finish everything before even finishing your pasta.”

“I’m not too much in a coffee mood, actually.” You scrunch up your nose. The two of you then proceed on taking your respective orders off the tray, setting the trays aside.

“But after the break, you will be.” He states matter-of-factly. “How many projects do you have due after the break?”

“I can only remember six because I really don’t want to think about them right now.” You steal a small slice of cheesecake from him as an unwritten exchange for his unlimited share of your iced Americano. “As Seungmin and Changbin once said, ‘have fun now, suffer later.’“

“Oh, I’m fun?”

You turn to your side to look at him, finding him looking back at you with a triumphant smile. “You’re not letting me live this down, won’t you?”

“No, it’s getting added to my list of Y/N compliments!”

You roll your eyes, taking another slice of cheesecake. He reiterates with his now third sip of Americano—you’re not even sure anymore because you’re pretty sure he’s already drank half of it.

“I said drink your water, jeez.” You slide him his glass of water, barely a quarter empty. You take the Americano from him, taking your own long sip of the drink.

“I will, I will! Just one last si—” “Han Jisung, let me drink my damn coffee!” “Okay, fine, let’s exchange!”

You leave the cafe when it’s nearing 9 PM. Somehow, when you’re with Jisung and food, you barely check the time, much less your phone, since your table gets messy from stealing each other’s dessert plates and, for tonight, Jisung drinking most of your Americano. You and Jisung also had a lot to say about your respective classes in a full-on rant session since there’s only 2 weeks left until everyone is on semester break.

“There’s not much traffic at this time, isn’t there?” Jisung asks you as he walks you back to the bus stop. He holds a paperbag containing your take-out cakes for your roommates. “You might fall asleep and miss your stop again.”

“Says the guy who sleeps on people during calls.” You tease with an elbow to his side. He tries to slap you back on your arm but you walk ahead enough to be out of his reach, sticking your tongue out at him. “There isn’t much traffic now, though, it’s only Thursday.”

“Y/N.” He laughs while calling your name, covering his mouth. “It’s Friday.”

Your eyes, of course, widen in surprise. “It is?” He only nods at this, finding amusement in the way your expression quickly turns into that of horror. “Ah, shit, I told my roommates we hang out tomorrow!”

“Why, do you have to do the dishes or something?”

But checking your phone, you only find a ‘wya’ message from Ryujin. Almost as quickly as you started panicking, you calm down again. “Oh, it’s fine.” You conclude, shoving your phone back in your coat pocket. “It’s just that they sometimes think I died at the library or something and end up making a big scene about it. Last time, our batch FB group got spammed.”

“Wow, then you judge me for always being cooped up in the dorms?”

“That’s different—I actually go out and walk. I’m surprised you can even run to the bus stop a while ago.”

Jisung threatens to swing your take-out bag at you. You only take it lightheartedly by holding your hands up in front of him, laughing.

But all jokes and banter aside, you give him a hug before boarding the bus. “Text me when you get home.” He recites his constant line when it’s you leaving. “Or when you miss your bus.”

“Shut up.” You mumble on his shoulder, punching his back hard before pulling away. “I hope you trip on your way back.”

“‘Night, Y/N.” “See you when I see you, nerd.”

two - a park

After a month of living off of ramen and iced Americano, barely seeing the sun, and hearing the same chords and melodies on repeat, Jisung passes the song he’s been working a week later. Besides this, he only has three papers left to tweak before he can fully enjoy the semester break without any sort of guilt.

To celebrate, it’s you inviting him this time to ride bicycles so he can move around but also relax. You picked the park at Ichon that’s on your side of the Han river but still far away from university so you don’t think of schoolwork the entire time.

On this particular hangout, you took the same bus but at different times. He boarded the bus first before you, arriving some 30 minutes after you’ve arrived at your nearest stop. Since it’s a Saturday morning, the traffic’s not too heavy.

“You look nice.” Jisung nudges you with one shoulder as you take a seat on the spot he saved you. The bus is not full since the rush hour had just gone.

“It’s just a t-shirt and shorts.” You reply flatly, hiding the fact that you actually thought a lot about your outfit last night. You even wore your good sneakers and denim jacket today.

“Yes, but it’s your other other favorite graphic shirt.” He points out. “The one for when we’re outdoors.”

Oh, so he noticed.

“Yes because someone has to look cute.” But you actually think Jisung looks nice even when he wears the same Supreme shirt like today—you’re just too in deep with the teasing to compliment him.

“I compliment the rainbow shirt you always wear when we sightsee but you diss my Supreme shirt.” He rolls his eyes. “Ah, people these days.”

“Because you’re always in and out of university in that.” To emphasis, you tease him further by scooting away. “Do you even wash that?”

“Of course I do.” He confidently and lightheartedly answers, putting an arm on your shoulder and pulling you back. “While it’s in the laundry, I wear my other Supreme shirt, or my other other Supreme shirt—“

“Yikes.” You tsk at him, crossing your arms. “This is what staying inside all day does to you.”

“That’s why you’re here, my Y/N, to take me out.”

“I was reduced to the role of babysitter.”

“I was going for hangout or date but you called yourself babysitter.”

Arriving at Ichon park, you make a quick snack stop at the nearest convenience store first. Since it’s your turn to pay, Jisung makes sure to buy all of his favorites (sans an iced Americano this time as your only condition to pay for him). You fill an entire basket with snacks and drinks both for when you ride a bicycle and for when you settle down for a picnic later at lunch.

“By the way, did you bring the mat?” You ask Jisung as you walk to the renting station, remembering that he and Hyunjin have the picnic mat you and your bigger circle of friends use for outings like this.

“Of course I did, what do you take me for?” He unzips his backpack to show you the blue gingham pattern Seungmin picked out two years ago. Aesthetic, he said. “I’m not the one who mistakes dates.”

“And I’m not the one who had to ask what the picnic mat looks like the other night despite having it for 4 months now.” After a few more steps, you arrive at the renting station. “I was just making sure.”

You then rent two bicycles, both with baskets for your belongings.

“Y/N, wear a hat.” Jisung reminds you while putting in his.

You frown. You did bring a cap but you also put a lot of effort on your hair today. “It’s going to ruin my hair.”

“The sun’s going to burn your hair if you don’t.” He takes your cap from your hands and gently places it on top of your hair before you can even reiterate, a small smile gracing his face at your speechless expression. “There.”

The fuck is he on? Still, your heart beats erratically at his sporadic gestures. Being Jisung’s best friend is a bit of a rollercoaster.

Especially lately.

Before you know it, Jisung’s already on his bicycle, urging you to do the same. Half-dazed, the two of you leisurely circle the entire stretch of the park, pointing at random landmarks across the river and eating your snacks.

Since this hangout’s also meant as a celebratory one, you let Jisung let loose and yell, “I’m done with my projects!” while extending his hands out as he cycles. You think to yourself that you have the rest of the year having a heart attack over that.

The park is full of families, friends, and couples on a Sunday that you almost couldn’t find a spot to lay your picnic mat on when the two of you got too tired of cycling around. You couldn’t consider sitting on a park bench since Jisung was getting sleepy as well, a result of not having a proper sleep schedule and a half in the past weeks.

So, after almost twenty minutes, you managed to secure a place from a couple who was just leaving for the nearby Namsan tower.

“Thank you so much again!” You thank the couple who even helps you set up the picnic mat while you let Jisung temporarily rest on the bare grass with his backpack as a pillow, sleep quickly catching onto him.

“No problem.” The woman says with a smile.

“Have fun on your own date.” The man adds, placing an arm on his date’s shoulders.

“Oh we’re not—“ But before you could even finish, the couple’s already walked away. You sigh, squatting down to Jisung’s eye level this time. “Jisung wake up, mat’s ready.”

He scrunches his nose with a groan, about to roll over to the opposite direction until you stopped him and rolled him towards the mat. His head lands soundlessly on the ground, forcing him to open his eyes.

“Damn, I thought I was going to land on your lap.” He rubs the area on his head that hit the grass.

You sit down next to him, taking out the sandwiches you bought from the convenience store. “Who do you think rolled you over, dumbass? For a genius, your sense of direction is quite questionable.”

“But can I?” He looks up at you now, poking your bare thigh. “Do you need like a blanket or something?”

You remind yourself that this is the same guy who threatened to smack you with a box of cake last week and dropkicked you once (but that’s another story). “Fine, go ahead.”

As if he woke up just a little with wide eyes and a genuinely happy expression on his face, Jisung scoots over while laying down (which makes you stifle a giggle because he looks like a worm doing it) until his head lays on your lap. You push a bottle of water and two bags of sandwiches next to his shoulders. “You have to eat later, though, okay?”

Looking down at him, you surprise yourself by finding him with his eyes still open. He busies himself with lazily getting his phone and earphones from his bag, putting on an earbud and offering you the other. “I saved my project for you to listen to.”

“Didn’t you say you were going to sleep?” Nevertheless, you take the earbud just as the music starts to play.

“Yeah, but I’m suddenly hyper-aware and awake.” He shrugs, taking the sandwich on his side. “You know, like when kids get put to bed from sleeping somewhere else.”

“So you do think you’re a kid?”

“Shush, this is the good part in the song.”

You chuckle, opting to not reply vocally to enjoy the song you’ve been hearing fragments off for the past month. The two of you then eat and listen in silence, that is until he asks you for comments at the end and the two of you discuss it for a while then it’s back to comfortable silence again but with different music as you scroll through your phone and Jisung tries to nap again.

Jisung falls asleep once he has a good look at you without your phone in the way.

At the end of the day, around 4 PM so you don’t get stuck in rush hour traffic, you take the same bus again but this time, it’s you leaving first.

The only problem is that despite a year and a half of frequenting your side of the Han river, Jisung still can’t seem to memorize bus stops well, forcing you to stay awake the entire ride.

“Y/N—“ “No, Jisung, we’re still three stops away.”

You don’t even have to look up from your phone to know that Jisung’s still looking out of the window as he’s had for the past 20 minutes, trying to gues your stop. At hearing your answer, he decides to stop, turning his head to the other direction as you text your groupchat.

“What’s up?” He rests his head on your shoulder casually to get a better view of the messages you’re skimming through, sending a shiver down your spine.

You try shrugging him off his shoulder but he shows no initiative to move. “Everyone’s starting to talk about the annual Halloween party. You’d know if you check the chat often.”

Away from your view, Jisung frowns. “I get ideas of what you’re talking about from how Hyunjin reacts to them, especially to the memes, thank you very much.”

“Well, at least you’re a bit better than Changbin when it comes to being online.” You say, more to yourself than to Jisung. “Anyway, you, Hyunjin, and Chan are in charge of the guest list. Chan just suggested that you squeeze it in your next radio show this week since the party’s the next night—maximum of 50 people!”

“Oh, yeah, we can do that.” He nods. “Any news on the venue?”

At this, you release a sigh of frustration. “Seungmin and Changbin booked a rooftop in Itaewon of all places.”

“Isn’t that cool? Why are you sighing?”

“Speak for yourself, Jisung. Remember last year?” You close your phone now but Jisung’s head still remains on your shoulder. “I don’t want to deal with a lot of drunk college kids again—especially not on a rooftop and not when I really deserve a drink.”

“Nah, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as last year.” He tries to say dismissively but the two of you know exactly know crazy it was last year, especially for Jisung.

“Which is why I told Minho that we buy the alcohol together on Wednesday—so no one does anything too stupid.” You shrug Jisung completely off of your shoulder now since you’re nearing your stop and he complies, caught off-guard with the way you said you and Minho are doing something together. “Okay, Sung, this is my stop.”

You stand up and Jisung almost does the same in his absentminded state. “So are you carpooling with Minho on Saturday?”

“Yeah, I need to do something for my club before going to the party but we’re sending the drinks early in case we’re late.” You say quickly. “Okay, I gotta go. See you this break?”

“Hm, see you.”

When the bus moves again, there is a sinking feeling in Jisung’s stomach until the view of you walking back to your university disappears.

three - a supermarket

You invited Lia to help you and Minho to buy liquor at the nearby supermarket after Minho’s classes, only to find out that Minho brought 3racha along.

“It’s not that I don’t trust your box-carrying skills but I don’t trust your liquor-handling skills.” Minho explains when he sees your surprised expression at seeing Chan wave at you and Lia from the front passenger seat. “That goes literally and figuratively.”

“I mean, I feel the same which is why Lia’s here but, really? You trust Jisung and Changbin with liquor?”

“Hyunjin’s out with someone again and Jeongin might get carded again.” Changbin shrugs from the open passenger seat window.

“Seungmin? Jeongin? Felix?”

“Do you think we’d actually let them touch alcohol until Saturday?” “Right.”

“I’m sure it’s going to be fine. We’re buying for around 50 people right?” Lia asks Minho as the two of you squeeze in the back seat of his car.

“Yeah, so that’s about 6 boxes since the venue’s also providing some drinks.”

“What about snacks?” “Covered by the venue too.”

“How many bottles can fit in 1 box?” You mumble to yourself but Jisung, sitting very closely next to you, hears.

“Around 10 to 15, probably.” He says, startling you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be finishing papers?”

“I already finished them waaaay back.” He smirks at you coolly. “While being a ‘cave man’ at the dorms like you said. You’re supposed to be proud I’m voluntarily going out today.”

He’s too prideful to admit that he finished his remaining work in the 3-day window you didn’t see each other so he can tag along today.

At the supermarket, you split up in teams, each with two baskets to fill. Changbin and Lia head off to the liquor store outside the main supermarket while Minho and Chan go to the liquor aisle inside the supermarket. You and Jisung, on the other hand, stick together, browsing the other aisles instead after being in the same liquor aisle but at different sections with Minho and Chan. No reason, you both just felt like it.

“Do you think we have enough budget to sneak in a bag of candies?” You think out loud, holding a bag of mint candies from the shelf. “I’m not sure if I want this one but Minho likes it.”

“Minho probably wouldn’t notice—maybe he’ll even think he put that in himself.” Jisung says, standing really close to you and examining the candies himself. Your two baskets of alcohol bottles are half-forgotten to the side. “Why do you even want to buy candies for him? If you want it, though I can buy it for you.”

You give him a skeptical look, only then noticing how easily your shoulders brush against each other. “Why are you standing really close?” You voice your observation out loud, making him turn his head to you with a pout. “I mean sure go ahead but you’re literally blocking the light.”

“I can’t?” To emphasis, he leans some of his body weight to you, just enough to make you hold onto him by his arm at the feeling that you’ll tip over if you don’t. Succeeding, he smirk triumphantly and takes your hand off of his arm so that he can put in on your shoulder. “Y/N, I missed youuu.”

“We saw each other 3 days ago.” You huff, more to yourself than to him because he really is making you nervous. “You’re so clingy today, that’s my job!”

“Sus, I can’t miss you after 3 days now? When it’s already my break and you’re still attending some classes?” He pouts, holding his arms open. “Come here.”

“What? Why?” At this point, you’re just getting a serious whiplash from his sudden clinginess. That’s my job, how dare he?

When you don’t budge, eyes still narrowed at him, he moves forward himself, trapping you in a hug. “I want to hug you, idiot.”

“What if I don’t want to?” “I’m still hugging you.”

You simply give in this time, the two of you just standing there until Chan passed by to get Minho candies.

“Dudes, come on, we’re buying alcohol.” He reminds with an amused smile, snatching the bag of mint candies from your grasp. “Get moving, lovebirds.”

“We’re n—“ “We’ll be right there.”

You pretend on swinging a bag of gummy bears at him. When he asks you why, you only run back to the liquor aisle to meet Chan and Minho.

More bickering, some alcoholic jokes, and the woman at the check-out counter asking for your I.D.s later, the 6 of you rest and eat ice cream at a parlour near the check-out before leaving, your boxes of alcohol carefully placed together at the end of your table.

“So how many people are actually going?” Lia asks Chan over her chocolate ice cream.

“Around thirty-people already responded to the invite.” Chan answers. You wince every time he bites his ice cream. Every person to themselves but biting ice cream is just a no for you. “When the Friday show airs, hopefully more people go.”

“We had 100 people last year, right?”

“That’s because these geniuses thought they can handle a hundred drunks at a house party.” You recall the chaotically eventful party last year. “We’re cutting in half since we’re at a rooftop party and I don’t want to see people jumping off the 4th floor.”

“Also since not a lot of people dress up.” Jisung frowns. The party has always been a costume party when it started 3 years ago but somehow, a lot of the guests you’re not particularly close with always show up in the bare minimum.

“Ooh, what are you guys dressing up as this year?” Minho asks, suddenly excited at the topic of costumes.

“Might just go as a vampire again this year since I won’t have much time preparing this Saturday.” You frown.

“Hey, I wanted to go as a vampire!” Chan complains.

“You already went as a vampire last year! Can we not match again?”

“What about you Minho?” Lia asks, disinterested in your bicker with Chan.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He shrugs. “Ask Jisung.”

Lia turns to Jisung who enthusiastically answers, “It’s a surprise!”

“It’s probably the horse head again.” You roll your eyes, knowing his enthusiasm very well. “But we’re just going to pretend that it’s a surprise on Saturday.”

“You better do.” Jisung pouts.

“Have you even washed that horse mask since last year?” Minho narrows his eyes at the younger boy.

You yourself didn’t even expect that he’d keep it for this year especially after what happened.

Yikes.

“Minho, you know I do! I take it out sometimes to scare Hyunjin’s dates!”

You head to the events place in Itaewon after. From the photos in your groupchat, it’s an average-sized building in relation to the others in this particular district, holding a convenience store on the first floor, a BBQ place on the 2nd floor, and miscellaneous offices on the 3rd—one of which rents the rooftop for events.

“So why did we have to buy drinks at the supermarket again?” Changbin asks, still trying to catch his breath from carrying so many boxes of alcohol.

“Because supermarket alcohol is slightly better than convenience store ones.” You answer matter-of-factly. “It’s semester break and Halloween. Indulge a little, Binnie.”

“Y/N has plans to get wasted.” Jisung spoils to everyone, making you call out his name from the front seat. You asked to exchanged seats with Chan after loading the boxes at the back of the car so you can have a run through of the food and drinks. Throughout the whole ride, he’s been hell-bent on exposing you.

“Then it’s counterproductive to buy those hard drinks.”

“Who says I’m sharing them?” You chuckle. You didn’t expect that anyone but Jisung would notice that you bought smaller drinks for yourself.

Then the car is quiet for a while sans the music playing from Jisung’s phone which you immediately recognized as one of the playlists 3racha played on a broadcast before.

When you get stuck in temporary traffic on the last intersection before the venue, you then turn to Minho. “Minho, aren’t you afraid of heights? Is 4 floors okay?”

Glancing at Minho for a response, he nods while still looking at the road. “The place’s really nice in person. I went with Seungmin yesterday.”

“If you say it’s nice then I’d probably feel guilty of letting people trash the place this weekend.” Because it’s true, if Lee Minho calls something nice or pretty, it’s really really nice or pretty.

“It’s really spacious so you don’t have to stare at the ground below all the time, lots of picnic chairs and tables with the big-ass umbrellas, fairy lights, and a sound system when people want to karaoke or need mics.”

“Ah, yes, very much of Seungmin’s aesthetic.”

“I’d like to be acknowledged too, thank you.” Changbin says from your rear view mirror view.

“Thank you Changbin.” You tease him with a laugh. “What did you like about the place?”

And before Changbin could even answer seriously, the rest of the car answers in chorus, “There are lots of glitter and foil decorations.” before breaking into laughter.

“There are beach props too! There’s fake grass and everything so it looks cheerful!” Changbin defends but to no avail because you only end up laughing. “Seungmin didn’t like it but I insisted that we borrow it for the party.”

You arrive at the building afterward, handing the alcohol to the staff on their 3rd floor office and finalizing the food you’re going to have on the party.

“We’ll see you on Saturday night, then?” The owner of the building confirms once you’ve covered all the inquiries you have.

Chan nods. “Me and the guy who booked the place, Seungmin, will be here first on Saturday night around 6 PM.”

“What are you doing at 6 PM that you have to be late on Saturday?” Jisung whispers next to you, diverting your attention from looking at the view next to you to him as he looks at you expectantly.

“Cramming a poster while waiting for a club meeting.” You frown. “Not everyone had their school day on Friday.”

“Can’t you skip?”

“Hm? Why?” You nudge his shoulder, as if trying to take out the pouty expression he wears on his face. “I told you I’m carpooling with Minho on that day so it’s fine.”

“But stiiill. I won’t save your alcohol.”

“No need, I already asked Seungmin to do it...and even asked Felix to watch you before I get here.”

“What did you bribe those two with?”

“Tickets to Lotte world.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you but he’s thoroughly impressed. “You’re too smart.”

“I have to outsmart you somehow when it comes to doing something stupid.” You shrug with a chuckle. “Plus, traffic’s really heavy on Saturday since everyone’s going home that day.”

“You really should just ditch club.” He shrugs. “It’s the last day anyway.”

“I can’t, dumbass, that’s part of my grade. Really, it’s fine, at least I’m with Minho on that day so we can be late together.”

Before Jisung could argue further, however, Lia approaches the two of you. “Ready to go, guys?”

four - a rooftop party

Sometimes, you hate it when Jisung is right. Turns out, the meeting you had for your club was relatively pointless and could’ve just been discussed over e-mail or your club groupchat. Still, it ended at around 9:15 PM because most of your club mates arrived later than the 7:35 PM you agreed on and the stubborn president didn’t want to start the meeting until everyone was there.

Still, you passed your posters (which you definitely crammed at the school library prior) and made a lot of suggestions during the meeting which felt rewarding enough to make up for the frustrations you can’t vocally tell your seniors over causing a lot of inconveniences to your meeting. Just think that’s going to be you in a few years, Y/N, so try to understand, you think to yourself as you return to an empty dorm. Ryujin already informed you over text that she and Lia already left with Yeji to pick up Chaeryeong from her university.

“Now, for costume.” You mumble under your breath, heading straight to your room.

After much thought on which black clothes to wear, you got dressed quickly to attend to your make-up faster. Since you’re a vampire again like last year, you have to put in more effort on your hair and make-up—you’re definitely not winning best costume but at least you look decent (and definitely not wearing the same clothes from last year) for the endless pictures Hyunjin’s going to take of everyone later.

When you’re already halfway to your make-up, Minho decides on spamming you, your phone lighting up and displaying 9:58 PM. Shit.

minho: here!!!

minho: traffic still heavy

minho: chan asked for reinforcements btw

minho: so were stopping at d mart

minho: pls don’t tell me ur putting make-up blood on ur face [sent 10:03 PM]

You groan, typing a quick “i am” reply to his last message before quickly finishing your make-up and heading out.

y/n: ok otw [sent 10:06 PM]

You quickly spot Minho’s car right outside of your dorm, his tinted windows rolling down as you approach. Opening the car, your eyes widen in brief surprise before crinkling into a laugh as you get in and close the door. “W-what the...what the fuck, Minho?”

“Don’t.” He holds a threatening finger up in front of your face, putting his hand back on the steering wheel as you drive away from your dorm. But even he stifles from his own laughter. “The kids asked that we buy 10 more bottles of the whiskey Chan picked out since Hyunjin made cocktails with it and a lot of people want more.”

“W—wh...sorry, it’s just that I can’t concentrate when you’re looking like this.” You end up laughing for the rest of your first 2 minutes inside the car and almost forgetting what you were going to ask.

This year, Minho is a Korean traditional woman for Halloween.

“So,” You start when you’ve recovered, holding a hand to your chest to steady your breathing. “So, are you going out to the mart or do I have to sacrifice myself?”

“You can air drop the pic of the whiskey brand on your phone.” He answers.

You sigh, putting on a jacket you find on the back seat to cover your exposed torso for when you go out to the supermarket.

At the supermarket, people only gave you brief stares because of the fake blood dripping from your chin to your collarbones before their attentions turned to another person (probably from another Halloween party) dressed as a literal YouTube video picking up snacks. Though you’re relieved, you made your exit quick after your purchase, pushing the cart as fast as you can to the nearby parking spot Minho’s car occupied, because your phone suddenly started ringing from consecutive messages from Jisung, of all people.

jisung: y/n where r uuuu

jisung: party started at 6! 6!

jisung: seungmin playing truth or drink

jisung: changbin singing at karaoke

jisung: also i drank ur mules

jisung: n ur peach sojus

jisung: but i shared w felix! [sent 10:25 PM]

You sigh, particularly at reading the last message after successfully loading your box of whiskey at the back of the car. You were too hopeful trusting even Seungmin and Felix.

y/n: otw w minho [sent 10:25 PM]

“Jisung’s really drunk again.” You inform Minho once you’re on the road again. “I can’t even trust Seungmin or Felix now.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep texting him because the traffic going to Itaewon doesn’t seem to be moving.” Minho sighs. “You know he’ll sleep dehydrated if he’s that bored by himself to text you.”

You groan. “No shortcuts?”

“Even the shortcuts are flooded. I swear, everyone’s travelling home or partying tonight.”

You lean back on your seat, taking a few deep breaths. If there’s anyone that shouldn’t be left alone at a party, it’s one Han Jisung.

At the party, Jisung sits at the bar, accompanying Hyunjin as he re-discovers his drunken talent of mixing cocktails. He scrolls through his phone absentmindedly with the occasional sips of the peach soju he’s been struggling to finish for 20 minutes now, having no motivation to join Changbin and Felix at the karaoke or Chan, Jeongin, and Seungmin playing more drinking games with most of the guests.

“Jisung, you’re sulking.” Hyunjin points out as he gives another guest his new cocktail recipe.

“No, I’m not.” Jisung frowns and hiccups through his big horse mask even when the older boy can’t actually see.

“You’ve been in there for the past 20 minutes.” Hyunjin knocks on Jisung’s horse mask for emphasis. He’s no better, actually, dressing up as a big giraffe head since Felix decided to be the Joker this year. “Literally the last time I saw your face, you were texting Y/N.”

“Y/NNNN! Why aren’t Y/N and Minho here yet? I want to see Y/NNNNN!”

“Well, it’s traffic out.” At the very end of the bar, Hyunjin can see the heavy traffic below. “Everyone’s going home or eating out tonight.”

“But I want Y/NNN!” Jisung is fumbling around now, narrowly missing his bottle of peach soju since the horse mask doesn’t have a good view from the weird eyes. “Where is Y/N?”

Though his friend is incredibly drunk now, the tipsy Hyunjin still tries to keep a decent conversation so Jisung doesn’t accidentally fall asleep on his mask again. “You saw each other a lot the past weeks, though? Unlike when it’s a regular school week and you barely reply to them on chat.”

“But that’s because I’m not as busy then as I was this semester.” Jisung manages to slur after a while before momentarily taking his horse mask off just enough for him to take a long sip of his peach soju with a metal straw he found somewhere in his backpack a while ago. “I miss Y/N when I’m busy.”

“What about when you’re not busy?” “I also miss them when I’m busy.”

Hyunjin sighs. “Just say you have a crush on them and go.”

And he’s not sure if Jisung actually heard him but the boy replies with a muffled sigh. “Having a crush from people in different universities is hard!”

You open your phone to check the time, the twelfth time you’ve done so in the past hour since you’ve been stuck in the now moving traffic. Eleven-twenty PM on the dot, the party could either be still in full swing with everyone drunk off their asses or dying down with everyone drunk off their asses—either way, most of the liquor are probably gone now (even the one you asked Seungmin to guard for you) and the reinforcement’s probably not a good idea already. Next to you, Minho sighs, “Not that it’s annoying but you keep checking your phone and frowning every time you do. It’s scary, especially since you look more like a depressed vampire than a slutty one.”

“Thanks, Minho.” You roll your yes, closing your phone and putting it down on your lap.

“You’re really that excited much to see your boyfriend?”

You glare daggers through his side profile. “He’s not my boyfriend and I’m more worried than excited because he’s really bad at drinking. Remember last year—”

“It wasn’t that b—”

“Minho, he was crying because he thought his mask was stuck on his head.”

“But—” “He also tried drinking soju while crying and wearing his mask.”

Knowing he’s on the losing side of the argument, Minho waves his hand dismissively, eyes still on the road. The traffic’s moving steady now. “Anyway, there’s 50 people there someone has to be sober-ish somehow.”

“Uh huh, sure, someone is.” You reply dryly. Though this party has a larger attendance list than your friend group’s usual hangouts since it’s your annual Halloween party, you can’t help but remain distrustful. Your friends aka the worst drunks ever are hosting, for God’s sake.

“Why don’t you text someone so you’d feel less nervous?” Minho suggests after a while.

And this time, you actually listen to him and open your phone again, opting to text Chan.

y/n: y’all still alive?

y/n: we’re about to turn right to the venue [sent 11:28 PM]

chan: shit’s lit!!!!!!

“Yup, even Chan’s drunk.” You conclude, closing your phone as Minho pulls up to the building. Minho sighs for probably the nth time tonight, exiting the car when you do. “Come on, ahjumma, we’re checking if our friends are still alive.”

Arriving at the party by the service elevator the staff kindly showed you, you almost kicked the box of whiskey bottles you placed on the ground in surprise once the doors opened and Chan greeted you dressed as a clown. “Finally, you’ve arrived!” He exclaims through his semi-faded white make-up and red nose, completely ignoring the way you just had the shock of your life. “Here, let me help you with the whiskey.”

You recover quickly, helping Minho and Chan lift the box to the nearby bar where Hyunjin is still busy mixing drinks. “Chan, why are you dressed as a clown?”

“Twitter poll.” He answers nonchalantly. “You should see Jeongin, he’s a life-size bread.”

Carefully setting the box on the ground for Hyunjin (who is more than grateful that the whiskey finally arrived), your expression returns to that of concern. “So, where’s Jisung?”

“Oh, he said he was going to take pictures by the railings with the good view.” Hyunjin shrugs. Panic sets on your face. “Don’t worry! There’s like a lot of people there right now! And I gave him water a while ago!”

You swip a bottle of peach soju and a bottle of water you saw hidden expertly under the counter from your view on the ground, sighing. “I swear to God, you guys are the worst hosts ever.”

And so you set out to find Jisung amidst the most random crowd of costumes ever. You spot Changbin dressed as Kim Shin and a Joker Felix still competing for higher scores on the karaoke and passed by baguette Jeongin and sunflower Seungmin who are now hosting a very drunken Whisper Challenge with your seniors, Younghyun who wears a big report card on his neck, Jae who’s dressed in Chicken Little’s clothes, Snow White Sana, and a pirate Jeongyeon.

If it’s any consolation, at least people dressed up better this year compared to last year.

“Ryujin, have you seen Jisung?” You near the viewing area on the other side of the rooftop where the light gets progressively fewer.

“He’s over there.” Your roommate points to an empty area with only a few tables and outdoor lights.

“Where?”

“Oh, he’s laying down somewhere. He’s still wearing the horse mask if that helps.”

“Thank you!” You part ways as you open your phone, turning on the flashlight to find Jisung.

From your area of the rooftop, the EDM music Chan mixed for this party already sounds faint and the traffic below sounds louder. You point your flashlight on the ground but also look ahead for any shadow of a horse mask.

“Han Jisung.” You call for him in a loud whisper, in case he fell asleep since he’s sound-sensitive when drunk. “Yah, I swear to God, we’re not hosting another party again if you’re dead somewhere.”

You repeat this a few times, changing baseless threats in hopes that it alerts him, until you find him raising a hand up in the air. “Here.” He responds tiredly to you, his voice not muffled by a mask this time as he’s long set it down next to him. He spots you immediately, illuminated by the garden lights. “You look pretty.”

“Thanks?” You approach carefully, pointing your flashlight away from his face and kneeling beside him. “Why are you laying down on the ground?”

You contemplate on laying down next to him but then you remember that you left your jacket in Minho’s car at the thought that the denim doesn’t go with your all-black ensemble. The bare floor’s already cold on your bare legs, how much more on your exposed back? “Anyway, drink this water later.”

But Jisung seems to ignore you, pushing you gently away by your arm. “I’m looking at the stars, Y/N, move over.” He groans. “Turn the light off too.”

You scoff. “You can’t see the stars—” But as you look up at the purple night sky, you see countless of twinkling stars. Caught off guard, you turn your light off. “—here. Oh.”

“Do you want to lay down?” When you turn to look back down at Jisung, he’s already sitting up slowly. Moving away a little so that you’re not in his way, he then takes his jacket off and places it on the ground. “You can use my jacket. It’s fine.”

You hand him your water bottle and place your peach soju next to his horse mask. “Sure...” Reluctantly, you lay down on Jisung’s jacket.

Jisung chugs down half of the water before laying down again, next to you this time.

“Aren’t you cold?” You ask, sparing a glance in his direction as you do so. Jisung only shakes his head.

“I thought you’d never come.” He pouts, still looking at the stars. He’s slowly sobering up now, making it harder to look at you in the eye.

“Traffic.” You heave a long sigh. “Hyunjin also made Minho and I buy extra drinks.”

It’s silent for a moment, you glance at Jisung for the second time to check if he’s fallen asleep again but you see a very concentrated expression on his face as he looks at the stars. “Are you still drunk?” You shake his arm, immediately getting his attention.

“Do you like Minho?” He suddenly blurts out, catching you off-guard. What makes matters worse is that he didn’t even spare you a glance while.

“What?!” You exclaim. At this point, you just regret not drinking your peach soju before joining him.

“Do you like him? Like like-like as in...hold on, the word like’s getting too redundant here...” In the darkness, Jisung turns beet red the more he looks away from you, not even realizing that you’re equally flushed from trying to hold in your laughter.

Where is this going? You can only think to yourself as he was rambling.

“Jisung, I only like Minho when he offers carpool and free drinks when we hang out.” You sit up this time, extending your hand out past him to your soju bottle. You’re definitely drinking to this unusual conversation. “Why did you suddenly think I like him?"

You don’t remember doing anything with Minho that would make Jisung think this way.

Leaning even more towards Jisung’s direction, you see a faint glimpse of his embarrassed expression—his hand covering his eyes as he curses under his breath. You drink a little bit more of your peach soju before nudging him with the bottom of the bottle. “What made you say that?”

“No.” He replies as calmly as he can, hand still covering his face. At that moment, he wishes he could put the horse mask back on quickly so he can run away while hiding his face.

You try prying his hand away but to no avail. He looks at you on his own accord a moment later but even then he doesn’t hold eye contact for long.

“It’s silly, just the soju.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Can you lay down again so I don’t have you see your face? Not that the make-up is bad, it’s just really embarrassing when you’re looking down on me like this.”

You chuckle, amused, but comply eventually when you’ve had enough of your soju. Instead of looking up at the stars, however, you turn your body to the side so you’re facing Jisung this time.

“Yah—”

“You said lay down again, I’m laying down.” You tease in between laughs. “Are you seriously not looking at me in the eye?”

“No!” He whispers loudly in a dramatic fashion, taking his horse mask and balancing it on his face to hide from you.

You shrug, flicking his horse mask away easily. “Why are you so embarrassed? Best friends talk about this all the time, it’s normal.” You shrug as you say this next, trying to act nonchalant about it as possible. Internally, you’re still processing where this conversation could go. “I’m just wondering how you came to that conclusion? It sounds weird and gross: Minho and I, I mean.”

Jisung only looks at you quietly for the next 2 minutes, clearly contemplating. “It’s just...” He starts and you hold your breath, realizing that your faces are really close when he turns his head to your side. “Seriously, it’s silly!”

You shrug, as nonchalantly as you can seem. “I want to know, it’s n—”

“Ilikeyou.”

“Hm?” You feel lightheaded, and you definitely feel like you need to pee. Soju works fast that way.

“I like you...” He says, slower and trailing off this time. He thinks you didn’t notice but you caught the way he glanced briefly down at your lips before going back up to your eyes. “Like really really like you; but we’re always running on different schedules since we entered college and we’ve only ever hung out when my deadlines aren’t heavy enough to make you feel guilty to come over until recently.”

“...Is that why you’ve been asking to hang out more this semester?” Jisung nods at the simple question. “You wanted to see me that much?”

“Well, don’t get too cocky now.” He chuckles nervously. Suddenly, he’s overthinking everything, trying to pick apart any hint from the tone of your voice. “Because this would be really really awkward and embarrassing if you keep acting like that then turn me down later.”

Your heart skips a few beat, you’re sure it’s Jisung now and not the soju kicking in. “Who said...who said anything about me turning you down?”

Jisung’s thoughts malfunction at this. Suddenly, he’s taking too slow to process anything again. You roll your eyes at this. “Do I have to say it?”

“...yes?”

You scrunch up your face in distaste but Jisung doesn’t laugh, making you sigh. “Fuck it, fine.” You take a deep breath, slowly following your words with, “I like you too, Jisung.”

You look at him expectantly and he returns your gaze with one of disbelief. “R-really?”

“I just said it, didn’t I?” You flick his forehead.

“Can I—”

He leans forward but you stop him with a hand in between the two of you. “You smell like alcohol.” You whine, pushing him away slightly.

“But we’re in the dark, under the stars, sorta drunk at a Halloween party; naturally, the next thing that follows is—”

“Ew, Jisung, gross!” You push him away completely but he only resists, managing to hug you with one arm.

“You can say that all you want but you already said that you like me too.” Slowly, he gains his confidence back which only just makes you squirm more.

“Yeah, but you said it first.” You give up from squirming in his grip, realizing that it’s warmer than letting your torso be exposed to the cold for another second. “If anything, I actually have the upper hand here.”

He shrugs. “So? I actually like saying it. I like you, I like you, I like you...” You open your mouth slightly to comment but he takes this as an opportunity to press a long kiss to your lips. “I like you. There.”

581 notes · View notes

tinyboxxtink · 3 years ago

Text

"Caught In The Storm" *Part 2*

Y'all thought I was kidding when I said I was pumped for this story; you just read how long this chapter is.

IT'S POURING OUT. I JUST WANT YOU TO GET WHERE I AM ALREADY.

It's so good guys. Like, SO GOOD.

Okay I'm sorry proceed.

Tag List:

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@wanniiieeee

@milkshqke

@gibbs274

@lolliepopsicle

@aprildecker-blog

@objection-argumentative

@word-scribbless

If you missed part 1: Here!

Part 3 Here!

-----

The next day the SVU squad was having one of their "murder board" meetings when you came storming into the station.

"Well I hope you're happy!!" You looked right at Fin.

"Audition didn't go well, cannoli?" Sonny asked you using his pet name for you.

"No Sonny, it DID NOT," You huffed. "I walked in there and I blew my audition," You circled Fin’s desk. "And I don't mean I forgot the lyrics, or I hit a bad note. No no, ohhhh no," You finally stood in front of him and crossed your arms.

"Halfway through the song I broke down SOBBING. I had a complete mental breakdown, because all I could think was that I had the worst moment of my entire life in that room!!!"

"Hey you can't blame us for your mistakes," Fin retorted.

"I don't blame them, I blame you!" You gestured to the rest of your “family” and then to him.

"Excuse you?" Fin sat up straighter.

"You didn't have to say anything Fin, you really didn't," You sighed.

"What?"

"You could have waited to have your fucking temper tantrum until after my audition,"

"Excuse me no--"

"She has a point" Olivia interjected.

"You too?" Fin took offense.

"Fin she was leaving, it wasn't like she was going to try and jump Rafael's bones right there," She went on. The whole room shivered at the thought of you “jumping” anybody’s bones.

"Look, I don't love it either but you can't help your feelings. And she just has a little crush on him, you can't fault her for that,"

You scoffed in offense.

"You're not helping, sweets," Olivia warned.

"Right…"

"Anyway you could have waited to have it out, is all I’m saying,” Olivia nodded at you with a smile. You mouthed a “thank you”.

"Oh we haven't begun to have it out," Fin huffed.

"Save it" You put a hand up before he started to stand up and get in your face for a fight.

"I already know what you're going to say; he's too old for me, we're a 'family' and he's supposed to be my 'uncle' or 'brother' or some other creepy thing, and we have nothing in common. But we do!"

"You barely know him, Y/N," Nick chimed in.

"I know him better than any of you!" You cried defensively.

"What?" Sonny looked at everyone confused, but they were just as lost as he was.

"That summer….when I was working with him. We got... close," You muttered the ending.

"I fucking knew it, you did bang him begin my back…" Fin growled.

"It wasn't like that! It's not like that, da--FIN," You actually did usually call him dad or daddy, but since he had been trying to use his dominance you persisted to remind him he wasn't actually your father.

"So what, now you two are in love?" Fin rolled his eyes.

"No! He didn't... we've never….it's never gone there, and I don't even know how he feels," You looked down as you talked. But then, you remembered why you were there in the first place and you raised your head up with eyes of fire.

“And it wouldn't matter anyway because it's none of your business.” You snapped.

“It is absolutely my business Y/N he’s my co-worker, he’s ALL of our co-workers, this affects ALL of us,”

“I knew it,” You scoffed, tears coming to your eyes.

“What?”

“I knew you’d blow up, and freak out, and not even ATTEMPT to open your mind or hear what I have to say, it’s just about you and what makes you okay,” You backed away from all of them.

“So I came here willing to say that I’m done,” You raised your hands.

“What do you mean you’re ‘done’?” Fin crossed his arms.

“With you,” You replied straight faced, willing tears not to fall right now. “Olivia’s right, I can’t help the way I feel, and BELIEVE me I have tried, daddy,” You resorted to your old name for a punch in the gut.

“Y’know whenever Sonny and Nick started, I had ‘crushes’ on them too,” You nodded at the two, who quickly looked uncomfortable picturing you that way.

“But those quickly went away, and I accepted them as my uncles, or whatnot,” You continued. “I have done that since I was in Jr. High, come here and meet my new ‘family’. I’ve always felt maternal or paternal vibes from everyone here, Uncle Brian, Grandpa Kragen and Munch, Uncle Stabler who can rot in hell…” You gave Olivia a sad look.

“But it’s ALWAYS been familial love! And the day I met Rafael, something was different,” You couldn’t help the tears choking your throat. “And I have never, EVER no matter HOW hard I have tried, felt anything like I feel about the rest of you. It’s just....different,”

“And now, you all know. And I know that you don’t like it, or it makes you uneasy, or blah blah blah,” You made blah gestures with your hands.

“But I can’t go back to pretending that it doesn’t kill me every time that I see him, and I’m not going to pretend like I’m okay with dad being-- this,” You gestured to Fin who shifted uncomfortably.

“So, I’m not going to come around here, for a while,” You said sadly.

“We didn’t do anything, cannoli! We’re your family too,” Sonny protested.

“Yeah I know, I just--”

“Look, Y/N before anybody does ANYTHING, you need to go talk to Rafael,”

“What?

“WHAT?!”

Both you and Fin exclaimed at the same time.

“Look I’m not thrilled with the idea of...that, but the bottom line none of this arguing means anything if he doesn’t feel the same way. So I’m saying before you start going off and making threats to US, go talk to him first. Without anybody else’s input,”

“Yeah, alright,” You shrugged and left before anyone else could argue.

--------

You walked into Rafael’s office quietly, not really sure how to start the conversation. He was writing a deposition silently so you knocked on the door to get his attention. He looked up at you with a small smile.

“Hey you,” He got up and walked around his desk as you shut the door behind you. “I was worried about you,” He put his hands on both of your shoulders.

“I know,” You gave him a small smile back. “But you’re right we do need to talk about last night,”

“Yeah, I--” He looked away nervously.

“I already went to my da---Fin, and the squad about this,” You bit your lip.

“....About what?” He was now concerned.

“Us,” You looked at him with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, there’s an ‘us’ now?” Rafael half laughed.

“Well that’s what I’m saying, Rafael!” You bit your lip. “Look after all the fighting and what not, what it boils down to is how you and I feel,”

“.....What are you saying?” Rafael asked, backing away from you.

“I’m asking,” You step forward and took both of his hands and looked at him seriously.

“For you to forget about Fin, or the squad, or an age gap, or all the million other things that are ‘against’ us,” You took a deep breath and asked the hardest question you’ve ever asked anyone:

“I’m asking you...do you love me?”

“Of course I love you Y/N, you’re like a--” Rafael immediately responded, moving away from you and gesturing wildly.

“Do NOT say daughter,” You cut him off. “Or sister, or niece, or cousin. You know that’s not what I’m asking,” You grabbed him and made him look at you again.

“Do you want to be with me?”

“I...it’s complicated,” He broke from your hold and paced his office.

“No I’d say it’s pretty damn simple-- do you feel about me the way I feel about you?” You asked him again.

“I just...I don’t want to become between you and Fin, he’s basically your--”

“He’s NOT my father!” You yelled.

“But he’s the closest thing you have!” Rafael argued, putting his hands over his face and taking a deep sigh.

“Christ almighty, Y/N. I don’t...I don’t want this to be a whole ‘thing’, I don’t want to upset Olivia, or the other squad members, I just...want us to go back to normal,” He gave you a sad look as he sank into his chair behind his desk.

“....Yeah well, normal is not an option, Rafael. And you STILL have not answered my question,” You circled his desk to be closer to him again.

“What question?”

“Dammit, Rafa!” You threw up your hands, then took both of your hands and put them on either side of the chair preventing him from evading you again.

“Look me in the eyes right now, and tell me you’re not in love with me,”

A very long pause began, as the two of you just stared at each other. You were searching his green eyes for a hint, a tell of what he was thinking, but he kept himself very guarded. You hated it.

“...No, I’m not,” He said in the tiniest voice as he looked down at the floor.

“You’re lying,” You pulled back with a sarcastic laugh, tears choking your throat yet again.

“Oh so just because I didn’t say what you wanted me to, I’m lying? For fuck’s sake grow up, Y/N,” Rafael spat at you coldly, turning back to his desk in an attempt to resume working.

“Fine, you know what? Fine. That’s great. You believe whatever you wanna believe Rafael, but things are NOT going back to normal,” You shook your head, trying to be cold and direct but failing as tears fell from your eyes.

“Y/N….” He felt his heart breaking, he hated to see you cry.

“No,” You stopped him. “We’re done. I don’t ever want to see you again. Not here, not at the station, not at the fucking Starbucks down my street!” Your voice raised as more tears fell.

“Y/N, please don’t do this…” Rafael began to panic, realizing what you were saying. He leapt up from his chair and tried grabbing your hands but you pushed him away.

“Don’t call me, don’t text me. Just...leave me hell alone,” And with that you turned on your heels and stormed out of his office, now full on sobbing down the hall.

Unbeknownst to you, Rafael let out an angry scream, running over to his desk and flinging papers everywhere, then proceeded to sink back into his chair behind his desk and cried ever so silently in his office.

-----

It had been about a week since your whole fallout with your “family” and Barba and you weren't doing great.

Then one day you got a phone call from an unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, this is Sandy from the supper club?” You immediately stopped walking when you heard her voice.

“Oh yes how are you?”

“Great, I was wondering if you could come back in and audition for us again?”

“Are you serious? I know I’m going to regret asking but, what made you change your mind?”

“Well your friend Kelsey called and told us that the day you came in and auditioned, your dog had just died that morning. But you didn't want to stand us up so you came anyway. And to be honest with you, all of the other auditions have kind of sucked so we'd like to give you another try.”

“Oh my God thank you, thank you, thank you so much!!!”

“Great so we'll see you tonight at 8:00?”

“Absolutely,”

You hung up the phone and immediately called Kelsey.

“Hello?”

“I love you so much I love you I love you I love you!”

“Oh so they called did they?”

“YES. I cannot believe that you would do that for me,”

“Well I figured you needed a win right now. Since you know you lost your family, and everybody who actually cares about you,”

“....Wow,”

“ You know what I mean! I mean you still have me, and Kenny obviously,”

“....Right. ANYWAY, the audition is tonight so….”

“Yes?”

“Will you play for me?”

“Let me see if I can free up my busy schedule,”

“Ha, Ha,”

“Oh look I’m free! I'll be there after work. Love you bye”

----

*That Night*

You walked into the Supper Club with a brand new outfit and a nervous smile. You noticed Kelsey was already at the piano, waving at you with a huge smile and a thumbs up.

“Hey Sandy, Hey Kyle…” You shook hands with the owners. “Thank you so much again for this chance,

“Girl we should be thanking you, you should’ve seen the ‘talent’ that has stunk up this stage all week!” Kyle laughed.

“So are you ready?” Sandy asked you.

“Yeah, I think I’m good,” You took a deep breath and smiled at her. She nodded at you while you took your spot on stage once again.

You closed your eyes and blocked out everything and everyone out of your mind, except for your song. It was just you, and the stage. This is what mattered.

-----

“....Good to you,” You finished the last line with a breathy note, your eyes still closed. You had kept them shut the entire time just so you wouldn’t look out into the house and just see the horrified looks of your family's faces burned into your brain.

“That was beautiful!!” Sandy clapped her hands. “Do you think you could come back tomorrow night and do that again?”

“Like for a second audition?” You asked hopefully.

“Like as a job,” She grinned back.

“Really?!”

“Yes really! That was enchanting darling, really,” Kyle placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” You nodded for Kelsey to come over as Sandy and Kyle walked away.

“I got the job,” You beamed.

“YOU GOT THE JOB!!!!” She squealed, causing people to stare. You shook your head and lead her out of the club back onto the street.

“Oh my god, Oh my GOD! I’m going to sing to a packed club, night after night after night! Oh my god, I have to call Dad---” Your celebrating tone quickly died when you realized the only people you’d wanna call about this weren’t...there.

“...You can call Kenny,”

“Kenny!” You smiled. “Yes I’ll call Kenny!”

“Hey girl what’s up?”

“I got the job,”

“Wha---at the Supper Club?”

“YES!!!!!!”

“Oh my god you GOT THE JOB!!!” *she got the job!*

You heard him speak to a muffled voice in the background.

“Kenny…”

“Yeah babe what’s up?”

“Who are you with right now?”

“...Alejandro,”

“Oh, Alex! I haven’t seen him in forever, put him on the phone,”

“He uh-- he has food in his mouth,”

“Boy why you lying, tell her she needs to--”

You heard Fin's voice.

“KENNETH,”

“...Yeah?”

“Don’t tell him that! He doesn’t get to know that!”

“Y/N, can’t we just stop all of this--”

“NO. And if you tell him to come tomorrow night I will kill you,”

You hung the phone and noticed Kelsey giving you a look.

“What?” You raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t have to tell him you were singing tomorrow, you could’ve just texted him so Fin wouldn’t hear,” She smiled mischievously at you. “You want him thereeee,”

"...Maybe," You bit your lip. "Do you think he'll come?"

"I bet they ALL come, baby girl," She winked.

You wondered if she was right. If you'd see Rafael tomorrow, after all this time.

------

“I can’t believe she--” Kenneth stared at the phone, then to Fin.

“Dad, you have to go to her show tomorrow night,”

“Kenny she literally just said she’d kill you--”

“Yeah but dad, we both know her,” He looked at Fin with earnest eyes. “She might be mad at you right now, but she’ll want you there when her dream is coming true,” Fin’s eyes lit up as he finished speaking.

“AND the rest of the squad,” He quickly added, making Fin sigh.

“Yeah,” He agreed.

“AND Barba,”

“...Yeah alright Ken I get it, okay? Finish your food before it gets cold,”

-----

The next day Fin went to see Barba at his office. He knocked softly then entered to see Barba talking with Olivia.

“Detective,” Barba nodded. “Didn’t expect you here, was Olivia not working fast enough?” He teased Liv with a smile.

“Actually I’m glad you’re both here. I need to tell the rest of the guys but-- I wanted to come here first,”

“That sounds ominous, Fin,”

“Actually it’s not,” He shook his head. “Y/N got that job she...auditioned for, a few weeks ago,” He muttered awkwardly not looking Barba in the face.

“Wha--Seriously? How? When?!” Olivia began asking questions rapid fire.

“....Why did you come to tell me this, Fin? You didn’t know Olivia was here,”

“Look, Barba,” Fin sighed, running his hand back across his head. “I don’t-- I don’t need to know the specifics of how close you and my daug---Y/N, are,”

“Oh Fin look I haven’t--”

“Yeah, I figured. She’s iced us all out for a while now,” He chuckled sadly. If he taught you anything, it was how to stand your ground.

“But Kenny said, that as mad as she is we need to be there tomorrow night when she goes on,” He continued. “All of us,”

“Tomorrow?” Barba’s eyes perked up. “Tomorrow night, you want me to go see Y/N?”

“ALL of us,” He emphasized. “But, yeah,”

“Sounds good,” He replied as nonchalant as he could, trying to hide his excitement. He missed you so badly, it scared him how much it hurt not to have you in his life on a daily basis.

“Uh huh,” Fin chuckled, nodding to Olivia. “I’ll see you back at the station,”

“Actually I was on my way out, I’ll see you tomorrow night Rafa,” She winked at him.

As soon as they left his office, Rafael did a fist pump in the air like a kid. He was going to see you, after so long.

He couldn’t wait. He just hoped you couldn’t either.

#rafael barba #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #rafael barba imagine #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu fanfiction #caught in the storm

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ncssian · 4 years ago

Text

A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

#a favor #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

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adhdeancas · 4 years ago

Text

For @theangelwiththewormstache, I kind of went all out and searched through your blog to see what you like and headcanon, sent a few sneaky asks to find out more, and wrote in all the things I wanted for everyone’s happy ending. it got... unbelievably long.

Merry Christmas and enjoy :)

Love, Cas over at @let-me-live-in-peace and @samwinchestersleftshoe

PS: thanks to @destielsecretsanta2020 for organizing this!

Click.

Dean sighed and nodded, pulling the phone away from his ear so he could stare at it expectantly. Right about…

It rang.

“Cas,” Dean said languidly, like an asshole who didn’t know why his boyfriend was calling him back.

“Sorry. I forgot again.”

“I know.” Dean couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice if he tried. And he tried.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

“Dean.” A hint of well-earned annoyance.

“I love you too, Cas.”

“Bye.” And another click. Dean grinned and pocketed his phone. The dumbass was still too impatient to wait for an answering goodbye. Guess they’d never be the couple to argue about who should hang up first. Then again, Dean kinda liked it this way. It was just a few more seconds of teasing and a special call to say I love you, that was kind of nice, right? Jesus he was a sap.

“Earth to Dean? Wanna stop daydreaming about your boyfriend for a sec and get back on task?” Claire was standing there waving a hand in his face, bitchface firmly planted. Dean gave her one back.

“Don’t be homophobic.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gay.”

“Yeah.” Dean kept walking, looking around at the rows on rows of Christmas trees. He stole a glance back at her. “Where is Kaia anyway?”

Claire blushed and crossed her arms over her chest. She would never tell him, but Kaia had hung back to give her some alone time with Dean. “She wanted to hang out with Jack. Guess she didn’t want to stare at your ugly mug all day.” A grin then, as Dean laughed at her joke.

“Fine, fine, guess you’re stuck with me.”

They roamed around a bit, both insisting on cutting down their tree themselves, Claire winning the fight to get to carry the ax. (Yes, Sam had suggested they bring a chainsaw. They had both refused because they needed to “earn the Christmas tree.”)

“Cas wanted a fraser fir.” Dean remembered, pointing to the section marked for them.

He felt, rather than saw, Claire roll her eyes, which, that’s exactly what Dean had done when Cas first told him. “Dork. Do you always do what your boyfriend tells you?”

Dean shrugged. “Pretty much. You?”

“Yeah.” They shared a soft smile before going back to their regular shit-talking. It was just The Dynamic. They searched a little bit more before they found one, the perfect tree that was big enough to make them both giggle over what Sam’s reaction would be when they brought it home.

It… takes longer to cut down a tree than you would think. Than either of them thought. Especially when you bring an ax and especially when you choose an obnoxiously large tree. They took a break about halfway through, sitting down in the snow and passing the thermos of hot chocolate Jack made them take back and forth (Claire spiked it with Bailey’s, which Dean chose not to comment on but was grateful for).

“Hey Claire… is it weird? Seeing me and Cas,”

Claire looked at him warily, seeming to consider what possible ulterior motives he had. Then, figuring she was the one with the ax, she answered. “A little. But I never saw my dad this old. Or this gay.” She gave him a grin and Dean flipped her off, taking the ax out of her hands to get back to the tree. “It’s good.”

Dean paused. “What is?”

“You and him. You’re good for each other, you can tell. Don’t overthink it.”

Dean’s lips curled up. “Sounds like something Cas would say.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes the dork is right. Don’t be an idiot.” She shook her head at him. “Jody had to remind me all the time at first.”

“What?”

“That I… y’know. Deserve it. Her. To be happy.” She put the last bit in quotes, saying it sarcastically, but Dean could see the truth of it in her eyes.

“Yeah, well, Jody’s smart like that.” He took another swing at the ax and tried to believe it for himself. It got easier every day.

------

Cas was left at home with Kaia and Jack while Dean and Claire got the tree and Sam and Eileen got food supplies. (Dean had protested, but Sam had -correctly- said that if given free rein, he wouldn’t get any vegetarian options and would get 10x more junk than they needed.) Jody, Donna, Alex, Bobby, Charlie, and the rest wouldn’t be here until the next afternoon. Christmas afternoon.

“So what should we do first?” He was a little bit nervous, being once again put in charge of the kids.

“Paper snowflakes?” Jack suggested, his excitement all too obvious from the smile on his face. Kaia glanced at him, amused by his obvious enthusiasm. Claire had braided his hair before she left while Kaia painted his nails (black, because they don’t own any other color of nail polish). It was clear they were pretty bonded.

“Sounds good to me.”

Kaia had to teach both of them how to make paper snowflakes. Cas tried to make perfectly symmetrical snowflakes; Jack kept cutting his in half on accident which made a bunch of smaller snowflakes. Hey, it worked.

“So… what’s the deal with you and Dean?”

“Deal?” Cas flushed a little. Everytime someone asked it thrilled him all over again. He was dating Dean. Dean. Was his. Had told him so, straight to his face. And he got to kiss Dean whenever, and sleep with him, and make him make noises only he got to hear, and listen to all his worries and weird fears and recaps on the latest episodes of Dr. Sexy.

“Cas?” Jack was knocking on the table lightly. Kaia had two raised eyebrows and a little smile.

“That good, huh?” She could relate. Everytime she thought about Claire she felt all warm inside, and going home to her at the end of the day was like a dream, especially after being apart for so long.

Cas looked down, called out. “That good.” he agreed.

“How disgusting are they, Jack, on a scale of cute to rip your own face off cute?” Kaia leaned over the table now, shit-eating grin plastered firmly on her face. Jack looked delighted to be in on the joke, which made Cas happy in spite of himself. Jack really needed this time with kids his own age. (Well, kind of. He was technically three.)

“Well, they do cook together…”

“Do they do that thing where one of them comes up from behind and puts their head on the other’s shoulder?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Dean or Cas?”

“Cas watches. He can’t cook.”

“Hey!” It was true. Cas was just arguing for the principle of it.

“But the movie nights are the cutest. One of them always falls asleep on top of the other one.”

“Probably at like 10 o’clock. You guys are so old.” Kaia teased, shifting her attention back to Cas.

Cas shook his head and pointed his finger at the two of them. “I never should have had children.” Kaia stuck her tongue out and Jack followed suit. Proving his point. Kids.

---------

“Hey, you dorks just gonna let us do all the work, huh?” Dean shouted from the garage.

“Yeah motherfuckers, get in here!”

Cas let out a half-hearted “Language!” before following Kaia and Jack through the halls. Claire pulled Jack into a side hug first before tugging Kaia in for a kiss. Dean would’ve followed suit, except Claire had actually left him to carry the whole fucking tree himself, which Dean, like an idiot, had actually attempted. Cas hurried over to help him, which earned him a glare lined with gratefulness.

“Oh yeah, have a happy little reunion over there, don’t mind me or this giant tree!” Dean griped at the kids. “Let the old men handle it!”

“Hey, you said it first.” Claire raised an eyebrow at Dean and pulled Kaia and Jack off into the bunker, probably to go find Miracle. Dean sighed heavily, muttering under his breath.

“You brought that on yourself.” Cas informed him, grunting under the effort of holding up half the tree.

“Thank you, babe. Very helpful.” Dean rolled his eyes. Cas pretended he didn’t feel a jolt of happiness at the most sarcastic ‘babe’ he’d ever heard.

-----

They managed to haul the giant-ass tree into the library and set it up, barely. It did almost crush Cas, but Dean tugged it upright at the last moment, prompting a joke about Cas dying again. (“Hey, you’re not allowed to make those anymore, you’re human now, dick.”) And a kiss that all the kids whooped and hollered at.

Then Cas showed Dean and Claire around the decorations they’d made while they were out. The greatest hits included paper snowflakes, ornaments, and a Christmas tree on the wall made out of old license plates. Dean clapped Jack on the shoulder to congratulate him on his crafts while Kaia held Claire’s hand and pretended not to be affected by the praise sent her way.

By the time Sam and Eileen got back, they’d decorated the tree, all the chairs in the bunker, and the stair-rail with lights and tinsel. Sam let out a whistle when he came back in, which brought Miracle, Jack, and Cas to greet them. (Claire and Kaia were busy telling Dean all about their local gay bar. Which, considering they lived in South Dakota, was quite the story.)

Dean’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw his brother and Eileen come in the kitchen with their bags. “Okay Dean, before you ask, we went with apple, pecan, pumpkin, and cherry.” Sam looked at Dean warily, who stared back at him over the girls’ heads with narrowed eyes, deciding whether or not to fight. The amount of pie ingredients he’d put on the list had been truly outrageous.

“Would like to remind you that the kids are making cookies and cheesecake too.” Eileen reminded him. Dean continued to look around suspiciously until Cas sat down on his lap.

That’s great, Eileen. Cas signed to her. He will be fine.

Eileen rolled her eyes. Whiner. Sam let out a snort and Cas grinned at her. Dean glared.

“What’re you saying?”

“Learn to sign better and you’d know.” Sam smirked.

“I’m working on it!” Dean protested and wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist, tugging him in possessively. He was going to try to sign something else but settled for a middle finger pointed straight at his brother. Hey, it was sign language.

Cas leaned back and kissed him on the cheek for his efforts. His memory landed on one particularly frustrating night for Dean when they’d been practicing his ASL (Cas knew every language of course) and Dean just couldn’t remember the most basic of things. Lamp, field, tree. The more frustrated he got, the more words started to leave him. He’d started swearing under his breath and stomped out to the porch to cool off, followed by Cas a few minutes later. Cas still remembered the drained look in his eyes as he looked at Cas.

“I feel like such a fucking dumbass, Cas. I know it’s not that hard, it shouldn’t be that hard, Sam makes it seem so easy…”

“Dean, you are learning. It’s okay if it takes you a little time. Sam has experience with ASL, doesn’t he?”

Dean had sighed and conceded this. “Yeah, he took some in college I think. I just… I never took any language, you know? Didn’t seem as important as woodshop or sex ed.” He grinned half-heartedly at his own joke.

Cas smiled back and pointed at him, signing o and k. You’re okay.

He repeated the signs, nodding. I’m okay.

I love you.

I love you too.

-----

After the pies were made and chicken noodle soup in the crock pot, Cas and Dean relinquished the kitchen to the kids and retired to the Dean cave. Sam and Eileen were cooped up in their room until they were allowed back into the living quarters by the kids. They didn’t want their creations critiqued or tasted before they were ready.

Cas waited patiently while Dean typed away on his phone, eyes narrowed to see the text. He refused to get reading glasses or enlarge the print on his phone, even though he sorely needed it. Cas kept his complaining about it to a minimum though because he liked the wrinkles around Dean’s eyes when he squinted. It reminded him that he got to grow old with Dean.

Dean looked up finally to see the fond look on his lover’s face and blushed, guilty. “Sorry, just checking with Kara.”

Cas nodded understandingly. As always. “The bar will survive without us for a few days.”

“I know.” Dean looked down, a little pleased he could admit it. “I just miss it.” Wow, to have a life he could miss, and to miss it from a peaceful holiday vacation surrounded by his family. It was… surreal.

“What do you want to watch?”

Dean sank back into the cushions, thinking. “Die Hard?”

Cas smiled at him. “Is that what you want to watch?”

Dean rolled his eyes and flipped around so he could lay his head in Cas’s lap. “No.” He admitted it grudgingly. Cas could read him like a book. It was inconvenient sometimes and other times, like now, it was nice. “Just seems like the thing to watch. Y’know, Christmas Eve.”

Cas shrugged. He put a hand in Dean’s hair, just like he liked it. Dean closed his eyes almost at his touch; he’d gotten much more comfortable letting his guard down like that lately. It had taken a while though, months of Dean staying rigid in his arms before he could relax quicker. “There are other things to watch.”

Dean reached a hand up and cupped Cas’s jaw with his hand. “Whaddyou wanna watch, sweetheart?”

Cas couldn’t help but turn his head to kiss Dean’s hand. Dean only called him sweetheart when he was feeling particularly tender, usually a few whiskeys in. This time he happened to be both. Cas loved it. “What about a double feature?”

“Hm,” Dean scrubbed his hand along Cas’s stubble and thought. Cas’s stubble was one his favorite physical things about him; sometimes Cas accused him of petting him like a cat. “What ones?”

“First… It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Dean cracked a grin and opened his eyes. “Clarence?”

Cas blushed. “I miss her sometimes.”

“Should I be worried?”

Cas tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “Considering she’s a demon? Probably.” Meg was banished to hell with the rest of the demons that had gotten out of the Empty, but given their old friendship with the Queen of Hell, that didn’t mean much for them.

“Psh, demon-shmemon. Been there, done that.” Dean pulled Cas down into a kiss, making him bend over into an awkward position that made Cas giggle. “Being a human is much sexier.”

“I agree.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. “Wanna make it a triple feature? Little hanky panky for intermission?” Cas rolled his eyes, which Dean interpreted as a solid yes. “What is our second movie, anyway?”

“Huh.” Cas booped Dean on the nose. “Love Actually.”

A slow, dopey smile spread over Dean’s face. “Okay.” He paused, thinking about it. He’d pushed Cas into watching it years ago, when they were still just friends, by ‘accidentally’ adding it to his Netflix Queue and then letting Cas loose for movie night. He’d watched Cas for his reactions the whole time (and only gotten distracted by looking At Cas a few times). It had been a couple months ago when he told Cas about that. “Second favorite thing about being queer is being able to watch sappy shit like that.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “You were able to before, Dean.”

Dean ignored him. “Ask me what my favorite thing is,”

“What’s your favorite thing?”

“This.” He burrowed into Cas’s lap. A sap and a flirt.

“I thought you were gonna say Taylor Swift.” A dry witted old queen.

Dean snorted into his stomach. “That’s my third favorite.”

----

“Alright, gang, what do we say? Same place tomorrow morning, let’s say… 5?” He spun around to look at everyone, a wide smile on his face. Everyone seemed less enthused than him, although Sam seemed to think his situation was amusing.

“Dude, I’m not twelve, I’m not waking up at 5 am to open a few presents.”

“Like hell you aren’t!” Dean was smiling but it was less of a happy smile and more of a disbelieving one. Cas squeezed his arm then, stopped him from continuing his argument. Dean glanced at him and he just stared and gave him another squeeze.

Dean knew what that look meant. It meant ‘Dean, you’re overreacting again, calm down and think about it’ and also ‘stop being such an asshole’ and probably also ‘wow you’re eyes are really pretty’ knowing Cas.

He took a deep breath and pecked Cas on the lips. “Alright, princess, what time are you willing to drag your lazy ass out of bed?”

Claire smirked and sent a look at Kaia before leveling back at Dean. “Eleven.”

“Eight.”

“Ten. Final offer.”

Dean considered a moment then extended a hand. And shook. “You have yourself a deal.”

----

After they went to bed, they talked about it. These days, they always talked about it. It was one of the things Cas had brought home from his shrink appointments, and, as much as Dean hated to admit it, it worked. Helped.

Cas changed into pajamas and stretched, sending a look back at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes and started before Cas could prod him to. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at him. “You hate the morning.”

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head, then pulled down his pants, because you should never have a conversation with your boyfriend with pants when you could have one without pants. These things he was learning. “Yeah, I do, it’s just… it’s Christmas.”

“Yes, it is. Isn’t it supposed to be a day of relaxation and fun?”

“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be exciting! Kids jumping on their parents bed at the asscrack of dawn to go to the tree, that kinda shit!” He shrugged, getting stupid worked up over it, he knew. He knew. Cas pulled him in by the hand and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Come on, tell me how I’m being an asshole.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “What part of ‘you do everything for love’ do you not understand?”

“How is me freaking out over Christmas morning ‘for love’?”

Cas didn’t flinch away from the self-deprecation. “You want them to have the Christmas you never got.”

Dean sank his head onto Cas’s shoulder, thinking about it. He was right, of course he was, he’s always right. Cas can read him like a book, even when Dean himself didn’t know what he was doing. “I guess so, yeah.”

“That’s admirable. But the Christmas they deserve, same as you did, is the one they want. Which might not be the one you wanted.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” he sighed heavily. More than he wanted his kids to have a motherfucking Christmas-card Christmas, he just didn’t want to be the ruin of it. Didn’t want to be John. “Sorry you have to shrink my head all the time.” Dean muttered softly. Cas pulled him away and kissed him, slow and soft.

“You pay me back tenfold.”

“You’ve got a shrink.”

“I meant with sex.” Cas met his eyes, face stoic as always. He would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for the glint in his eyes. It gave him away.

Dean threw back his head and laughed.

“Motherfucker.”

“I don’t have a mother.”

Dean shook his head, grin splitting open his face. Cas himself was trying to hold it together; he kept having to push down the corners of his mouth so he wouldn't break. Dean crowded closer, determined to ruin that composure. He walked his face right into Cas’s, only reaching for his lips once they were already bumping together. Then he fell into it, pulled Cas toward him to get more, settled into the easy mesh of their bodies until Cas ended up knocking his knee against the bedframe with a loud thump.

They dissolved into a pile of breathy giggles, too giddy and soft to work up the energy to get frisky. Dean just shrugged off his shirt and pulled Cas closer to him. “You know you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” Dean told him seriously. He didn’t know where it came from; it was way too mushy to even possibly be from his mind. Maybe it was something about the holiday, and the family, and the safety that all of it brought.

“And so are you.” Cas replied simply, eyes glinting.

“Even though I’m an asshole sometimes?” He had to ruin it. Had to put in that little bit of doubt, of insecurity. But it wouldn’t be truthful if he just swallowed it, so he let it be said.

Cas kissed his nose, which made Dean feel like a child but also like something so special and precious he didn’t complain. “Even though you’re an asshole sometimes.”

Dean snorted out a laugh and chased Cas’s lips, nipping at him in offense. He sank onto the pillow and stared at Cas where he sat up. Cas just looked down at him, adopting that alien-like quality he could still summon. “Marry me.”

“What?”

Dean smiled fondly at him, for once not at all concerned. “I dunno, dunnit ‘boyfriends’ sound way too young to you? I mean you’re practically 5 million years old, you can’t have a boyfriend.”

Cas pursed his lips, seemingly deciding between protesting his age or agreeing to his proposal. He laid next to Dean during his decision, letting Dean watch him consider. “Suppose you’re right.” He shrugged, offering up a tiny grin.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“No, you’re supposed to say ‘Yes, yes, a thousand times yes’ and then burst into tears.”

“Dean.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, that’s just how humans do it!”

“Okay, I take it back.”

Dean laughed and pulled him into a giddy kiss. “I love you.”

“I hope so, you’re marrying me.” Cas couldn’t contain his smile anymore; he stopped trying and just stared at Dean with the kind of wonder that used to make Dean feel uncomfortable. Now, it just made him feel lucky. “I love you too.”

---

A phone rang, a bizarre ringtone Dean didn’t recognize. Sam jumped up and ran off to the map room, apologizing quickly. “What the hell, man!” Dean yelled after him and sent a look at Eileen.

Hunter call, probably. She signed. Sure enough, Sam was in the other room picking up a landline with an annoyed tone.

He listened for a few minutes, asking follow-up questions before Dean heard him say, “Rugaru, yeah, that’s what it sounds like. Yeah, you gotta burn ‘em. Nasty, sorry. Yeah, no problem. Good luck.” He hung up and headed back into the room, signing and talking. “Sorry, hunting doesn’t care about holidays.”

“So glad we’re not doing that anymore.” Dean sighed happily, wrapping an arm around Cas. Sam smiled at him and nodded.

“Me too. I had to burn those clothes after the Rugaru thing.” He shuddered, the memory of the stench enough to make him happy for an empty stomach.

Eileen shrugged. Never had to deal with one of those.

“Lucky.” Dean promised her. Cas nudged him, nodding toward Jack. He was shaking a wrapped box with his name on it, a look of deep concentration on his face.

“Whaddya think it is, kid?”

Jack shook his head. “No idea. Can I open it?”

“Go for it.”Jack tore into it, no regard for the painted newspaper (yes, it was recycled, Cas and Sam both agreed) as he got to the box underneath. “Open the card first, heathen!” Dean joked, pointing out the card tucked onto the bottom of the thing. Jack scowled but complied, opening the card to find a nice note from him and Cas and a key taped in.

“What’s it for?”

Dean leaned forward, elbows on his knees, excited about this part. He had been the one who came up with it, after all. “Our place. We wanted to make it official, since you been, you know, visiting around a lot lately.” Dean turned a little pink in the cheeks. Jack had indeed been drifting between Sam and Eileen’s, Jody’s, his and Cas’s, Donna’s, and Claire and Kaia’s. But he always spent the most time at his and Cas’s house, trying to copy Dean and always ending up enjoying Cas’s hobbies more. Sam had told him a while back that Jack confided he wasn’t sure he was welcome there, not for the long term. So Dean wanted to let him know he was welcome. Except now, looking at the uncertainty on Jack’s face, he wasn’t so sure that’s what the kid wanted. “Uh, you know, you can just spend however much you want with us, but… you know.” He poked Cas desperately in the side, trying to get him to save the sentence.

“We’d like you to have a ‘home base’ with us, Jack. However often you are willing to stay.” Cas said simply. He squeezed Dean’s knee to reassure him.

Jack looked up at them with a stunned expression. “Does this mean I can take out the trash? And do the dishes?” He looked thrilled at the idea.

Dean chuckled. “We never would’ve stopped you before, kid. But yeah, sure.”

Sam cleared his throat, offering a smile to Jack. “That better not mean you stop coming around here though, Jack.” When Dean had called and told him his idea for the present, he’d almost teared up. His brother had come a long way with Jack. Still, he wanted to reassure his kid that he always had a home with him and Eileen too, no matter how busy he was. (And nowadays, between online classes, cataloguing lore onto an online database, and being the New Bobby, he was really busy.)

Jack jumped up, clearly about to go for a round of hugs, but Dean waved him off. “Keep going, you haven’t even gotten through one present yet.”

Jack grinned and complied, taking a bit more time with the box. He pulled out a Scooby Doo phone case, marked for Extra Protection, with Scooby and Shaggy on the back.

“That one was my idea.” Cas told him proudly.

“I helped.” Dean piped up.

“You did not.”

“I helped you pick which case!”

“You wanted to get one with Fred and Daphne.”

“Well, yeah-”

“Not everyone has a crush on them like you do, Dean.”

Dean flushed scarlet and went silent, pouting. Jack ignored their bickering and beamed up at Castiel. “I love it, dad. Thank you.”

Cas looked like he could’ve gone for round 4 with the Empty with how happy he was, but he just nodded. “Of course.”

The rest of the gifts went by with lots of shouting, laughing, smiling, and hugging. And a few tears all around. Dean got Claire a flamethrower without consulting anyone, and Cas got Kaia a rose and lavender scented pillow fragrance (“It helps ensure good dreams.”), which prompted a comment from Claire (“How’d he know you’re a pillow princess?”) that everyone pretended not to hear. Dean got Eileen a Woojer, a wearable speaker that lets you feel music’s vibrations in your body (“Because no one should have to live without Zepp available to them 24/7. Also, now you can cry with me when the sad music cues come on Dr. Sexy,” - one of their favorite activities together).

Dean jerked a head at Sam to get him out of the room, so Sam snatched his gift while Dean detached himself from Cas. They went to the kitchen, sending a couple soft looks back at their family gathered around the tree with all their new possessions. It was nice, and they both felt it.

“So, uh, Sammy, I been thinking a lot about what to get you for Christmas and everything. I didn’t want to go with the classic-”

“Skin mag and candy bar?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, damn, now I feel bad.” Sam mimed hiding his present (obviously bigger than a skin mag) behind his back, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“I finally got money, you know? Not a lot of it, but… I got a house and fucking, Cas, and… anyway. We’re finally doing Christmas and I wanted to do it right. And I want you to be as off-the-wall happy as I am, dude.”

Sam smiled widely, not even able to come up with a little-brother bitchy comment to that. “Thanks, Dean, that means a lot.”

Dean cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, so, I, um, I wanna pay for your school.” Sam opened his mouth to protest but Dean held up a hand. “No, listen, I know you’ve been stressed about it, and I know you’ve been working really hard on the hunting catalogue stuff. That shit’s important. And I can pay for some crappy internet school classes. No offense.”

Sam laughed and pulled his brother into a hug. “Thank you, man.” He said, muffled into Dean’s shoulder. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Dean patted Sam on the back, expecting Sam to pull away, but he didn’t. “Uh, Sammy.” Sam ignored him. “Sam. Dude, get off me. I want my present.”

Sam snorted and finally pulled away. Dean tactfully ignored the wetness of his eyes in favor of snatching the gift from Sam’s hands. He tore it open with all the grace of a rabid dog, unveiling a thick, leather bound scrapbook. “A scrapbook? Really?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “That’s gay, even for you.”

Sam pulled a bitchface. “Who sucks their boyfriend’s dick every chance he gets?”

Dean flipped him off. No need to argue, Sam would see right through him. It was true though. Not that he would know. Dean flipped open the cover and grinned immediately. It was Sam and Dean as kids, in a mall photo booth, being dumbasses with their tongues stuck out and their faces all crazy. Dean mooned the camera in one, and you could see the psychological scarring on Sam’s face in the next picture. A little note slapped on the page next to it said “I have more nightmares about this than about hell”. Dean laughed, glancing up at Sam before he continued. Sam’s eyes were hopeful with a glint of mischief. That was never good.

Dean flipped through the next pages. It showed them through the years, all with little notes of Sam’s internal monologue. “Grumpy because he hasn’t gotten his coffee this morning” “That’s for the itching powder incident, asshole” and more and more. There were even some pictures in there of just him that Sam had obviously taken without Dean’s knowledge, pictures of him sleeping with comments about his snoring, pictures of him singing obnoxiously in the car with jokes about ear damage. Pictures of him and Bobby shooting the shit with notes about the pair of “old men.”

Then the pictures started to change. There started to be pictures of him and Cas. Mostly just him and Cas. Standing, talking, watching TV together (this one says “angel’s first porno!” with a bunch of hearts next to it). Comments talking about personal space (“he never stands that close to ME”) and the like. One of Dean in Bobby’s panic room where Dean has a speech bubble drawn on his serious face that says “Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that, I got laid” and then just a selfie of Sam pulling his bitchiest bitch face.

Dean turned a little red at that, recognizing his complete obliviousness at the time, and kept going. The pictures continue, lots of fun-loving pictures of them on the road and the occasional movie or bar night, Charlie and Kevin and even Crowley and Rowena. But without fail, there is picture after picture of him and Cas sharing a publicly private moment, all with little snippy comments from his little brother. More than three of those comments are “Just kiss already!!!” Dean finally looks up to see Sam crossing his arms and staring at him with a smug, self-satisfied smile.

“When the hell did you make this?” Dean sputtered. These are a lot of pictures, Sam must’ve kept them on his crappy cell phones for years.

Sam blinked. “I started it in 2006.”

“No, I mean, when did you go back and add all these bitchy little comments?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “2006.”

Dean blinked right back. “But you… you’ve got all these dumbass comments about me and Cas.”

His smartass little brother started to smile then, a big shit-eating grin he wanted to smack off his dumb face. “Yeah, man, you weren’t exactly smooth about it.”

“Hey, fuck you, what does that mean?” It was said in jest, but Dean’s volume control went out the window.

“Dean? Sam? Everything okay?” Cas’s voice reached them from the other room. Dean sent an offended glance back at Sam before answering.

“Yeah babe, I’m just finding out how much I wanna punch my brother in here,”

“Okay, well, leave it till tomorrow, it’s Christmas.”

“Nah, isn’t fighting with your family a holiday tradition?”

“I think you’re right. Okay, continue.”

Now Sam was just watching him with such a knowing expression it made him annoyed. He was watching him flirt with his boyfriend- no, technically, husband. Oh yeah. He lowered his voice back down to a reasonable volume to talk to just his brother again.

“Yeah, so, I should also tell you-” He closed the book and set it on the counter. “We uh… Cas and I, we’re gonna get married.” He looked down at his feet and blushed a bit, could feel the rising heat in his cheeks. Honestly, he couldn’t believe he was saying that. He was getting married. To Cas. “Obviously, you know, we can’t really, with one of us being a legally dead terrorist and the other a former angel in the body of a missing family man,” Dean and Sam both laughed at that. “But I asked him and he said yes.”

“You asked him?” Sam seemed more surprised by that than the actual news. Dean shrugged and nodded. “Wow. Congrats, Dean, really.” Sam pulled him in for another hug, which Dean happily returned. “Can I walk you down the aisle?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “If anyone’s getting walked down the aisle, it’s Cas. He might get distracted by a butterfly halfway down, he’ll need the guide.”

Sam grinned. “Come on, it’s not like you weren’t always gonna give me away.”

Dean frowned at him. “Me? Why?”

“Dean, you’re the closest thing to a parent I ever had.” Sam says it like it’s obvious, like he isn’t forgetting about-

“You had Dad.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder, making his big brother look him in the eyes as he repeated it. “You’re the closest thing to a parent I ever had.”

Dean wasn’t gonna get choked up. No, he wasn’t, damn it. He’d made it this far in the visit without getting choked up, he could-

“Sam?”

Eileen appeared around the corner, making them both realize how long they’d been away from the rest. Sam looked at her apologetically, signing Sorry. Dean was just telling me he and Cas are getting married!

Eileen turned to Dean, barely giving Dean time to process a quick congratulations sign before she enveloped him in a hug. Dean laughed and hugged her back, pulling away to sign thank you. At least he knew how to do that.

Big church wedding? Eileen teased.

“Only if Cas wears a poofy dress,” Dean joked back. He only knew the signs for Cas and dress, but between that and lip-reading, Eileen got it. She shook her head with a grin and grabbed Sam’s hand. They all went back into the living room and to the rest for another round of hot chocolate and a marathon of all the Home Alone movies, per request.

------

Dean snuggled into Cas’s side and ruffled a hand through Jack’s hair and he tried to think of something more perfect than having his family all together for Christmas. He couldn’t.

#destiel secret santa #secret santa 2020 #fanfic #destiel #deancas #christmas fluff #theangelwiththewormstache #my writing #destiel secret santa 2020 #fluff #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #eileen leahy #jack kline #kaia rieves #claire novak

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