#it's not a complete fit but i did think it was nice

[intheshadows2000s]

Bug

In the charmless morning, I promise to be gone

Warnings: 18+! smut

This is Part Three

Part Two

Days passed where the revelation sat clear in your mind. Everytime you saw Alex, all you could imagine was a little girl in his arms. Everytime you saw him slide into his car, you imagined that he was going home to her. Everytime you saw him munching on his cereal, you wondered if he hadn't had time to eat because he was getting her ready for the day.

Your perspective on him had completely changed. And yet....there was no reason for you to keep observing. Alex had made it clear that he couldn't be with you, nor try in any capacity, to fit you into his life. You accepted it, of course you did. But that didn't stop you from wondering.

"Oh, sorry!"

You bumped into her, so lost in your mind that you hadn't even realised where your body was taking you. You were moving on muscle memory alone, no regard for your surroundings. You'd trusted your body to get you into the room mindlessly, but that proved wrong.

"Don't worry love, I know what it's like!" Joanna giggled as she helped you pick up your things. She had a kind face, prominent cheekbones and piercing baby blue eyes that nearly sent a shiver through you. You stared into them with a shy smile as you both stood back up, your things back in hand and yet you didn't make a move to leave and neither did she.

"Friday isn't it?" she sighed, "sometimes I come in and I don't even know what I'm thinking half the time."

You chuckle, "yeah. It's....the break couldn't come soon enough."

Which was a stark difference to how you'd started this term. You'd been so excited; trivial things like the leaves changing and the icy winter mornings seemed pathetic compared to what you were experiencing now. You didn't even notice the branches on the trees or the beauty of the morning anymore. Not when you'd spent weeks in your head.

"You're literature right?"

You nod, "modern."

"Ah," she grins, her white teeth sparkling under the light,  eyes bright and beautiful, "my favourite."

"I better head to class," you shift the books further up your chest, suddenly feeling small and insecure next to her. She's clearly larger than life, seems nice and is gorgeous. You're not surprised Alex had his eye on her but the two of you couldn't be anymore different. Did he get with you for that reason? Because you were different to the relationship that failed him? To the mistakes that haunt him?

"Sure," she stepped out of your way with a smile, "Joanna by the way."

"Samantha," you smiled back, though felt the reserve in it.

"See you around Samantha."

You buried your head in your hands at the end of the day. It had been a harrowing week - another one - and you were starting to get really fed up of your own mind that wouldn't stop racing, wouldn't stop tiring you out before you had a chance to wake up and face the day like the positive, strong woman you were a mere few weeks ago.

You sat in the staff room, stalling the process of going home even though your bed was telepathically tempting you. Your feet felt heavy despite being pressed steady against the ground, you felt overcome with emotion but which one, you couldn't decipher yourself. The scent of dust tickled your nose and your eyes were heavy, cheeks hot as you pressed your palms to them. But you couldn't move. You didn't want to move. You sat there for ages, unmarked papers beneath your hands, wondering when you'd get the motivation to move.

You knew it was wrong - ridiculous, even - to mourn over something that had barely started. And that's where the inner turmoil came into play. You couldn't believe how pathetic you were being and yet you couldn't figure out how to stop feeling this way.

The room was dark, only a few lone lights left on out of the several cast on the ceiling. It was late - hours had passed and you'd managed to mark a few papers but you were still lost in your mind, the words in front of you nonsensical, jumbled beneath your tired eyes.

When you heard the door creak, you jumped, looking up with wide eyes to the source of the noise.

Alex had his eyes fixed on his phone, the other hand moving to his hair once the door had been released. He walked in absentmindedly, not noticing you at first and you couldn't find it within yourself to speak, to interrupt the motions of his being.

But as you shuffled slightly, your chair creaked and he looked up with a comically alarmed expression, a small gasp leaving his lips. His eyes slowly softened when he realised it was you and you smiled sheepishly, shyly almost.

"Hey."

He smiled, "hey."

"Enjoying the peace?" you nodded back to what he'd told you at the beginning - that he loved working alone when everyone else was gone.

"Mhm," he chuckled, "you?"

"Yeah...."

He moved to the kettle with the mug you hadn't noticed. Although, throughout your many, many observations of him, it wasn't hard to gauge that he was a caffeine addict. You rarely saw him spare of a coffee, usually with some kind of sweet syrup around the rim and a load of frothy milk.

"You want one?" he waves the mug in the air, a beat passes where you stare at it wondering whether it's even appropriate to say yes. But eventually, you nod. It's not like you're going anywhere anyway.

Alex is quiet as he makes the drinks, the kettle being the only thing to make a sound in the room. The air feels still and yet tension threatens the corners of the room, ready to seep in and make you both squirm if needs be. For now, you avert your eyes back to the papers and try to remain calm - begging your heart not to pound, begging your mind not to stray.

It surprises you when Alex places your coffee down, the steam bringing a warmth to you that you didn't know you needed and you breathe a sigh of relief. But instead of scurrying off - he pulls a chair out and sits next to you.

"You don't mind?"

You shake your head and he smiles in relief, eyes saying things his lips never could.

The two of you refocus on your work. You actually feel more content with someone around. It's hard to think about the source of your problems too deeply when he's sat right next to you. His presence overwhelming but for once, you're comfortable in it. He's busy marking work too, a small frown on his brow, a crease in his glabella making him look angrier than he probably is.

His hand is heavy, the sound of his own scratching the paper much more prominent than your delicate scribble.

A while passes, you manage to get engrossed in your work but then you notice that Alex's scribble has stopped. You look up to find him looking at you. He's leant on his elbows, his eyes glazed with something, some emotion that you can't work out. Even as you look at him though, he doesn't look away. He doesn't blush, doesn't waver. He just stays, staring, intense as ever, raising goosebumps all over your skin without even trying.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Ale-"

He cuts you off. You barely comprehend that his body moves, but he's launched at you before you can. His lips reach yours, hot and wet and hard from the get go, one hand finding your cheek, the other gripping the table edge like it's trying - and failing - to hold him back.

Your gasp is swallowed by him as his lips slide over yours, unmoving, eyes wide open in shock. But soon enough the familiar heat, the simmering desire, overtakes you. You kiss him back, moaning gratefully at the taste of him, coffee and mint and smoke. The feel of his rough hands stroking at your skin. The weight of his want, unspoken and yet clear as anything.

He's out of breath when he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours. You stare into his eyes, dazzling with a spark of something, perhaps excitement. You can't help but smile, and at that he returns it, before kissing you all over again.

Desperation overcomes you both. You don't know how but suddenly you're both stood, pressed against each other. His fingers draw delicate patterns on your hips and your fingers tug at the roots of his wild, untamed hair. The scent of his engulfs you, the familiarity making you feel comfortable - as if you're exactly where you should be, doing exactly what you should.

The world around you crumbles, leaving you stood in a dark abyss of him, him, him and nothing beyond that. You don't even try to understand it this time, you just let it happen and revel in it.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers against your lips, "I just couldn't help myself."

His accent, blended with roughness and lust, nearly makes your knees buckle. You grip him harder, pulling him closer. The heat of him against your thigh, hard and wanting, is too tempting. You have the urge to please him, to relieve the tension he always seems to be carrying around. And so, you let yourself fall, and he watches you with heavy lidded eyes as your knees hit the scratchy carpet with a soft thud.

It's so dangerous what you're doing. At work, where anyone could walk in, any cleaners, any other teachers, the dean even. But you don't care, not in the moment when you're tugging at the tough button of his trousers and unzipping them.

Alex lets his fingers rest in your hair, the carefully conducted curls falling loose under his grip. He holds you steady, still, as you pull him out of his boxers.

You hadn't seen him last time, hadn't managed to observe but only feel. Now, you gasped when faced with him, well endowed, swollen and leaking all for you.

"You're so big," you whispered, your hand wrapping around the base of him. He was too thick for you to fully wrap your hand around. It was no wonder you'd spent all of last weekend hobbling around like a penguin.

He chuckled, "I guess I'll take it as a compliment."

"You should," you look up to him with wide eyes, innocence replaced with something sultry. One of his hands came around to cup your jaw, his touch tender, alluding to the fact his desire goes beyond just the physical.

You played with him for a while, your touch tantalising, lips swelling in anticipation and yet you wouldn't lean forward, wouldn't take him right where he wanted you most.

His eyes, wide and brown were pleading with you to do more. To take him. But you looked at him with heavy lidded eyes and a smirk that said it all. He'd have to ask.

You stroked him again, languid movements intent to tease. A whimper slipped from his lips that made your hold tighter. His back hit the wall with a thud but you were right there beneath him, crawling to meet him again, one hand around him, one hand stroking his trembling thigh.

"Fuck Sam," he groaned, just as you spat on him, spreading it down him for a smoother touch. He shuddered at the friction, everything was going so perfectly for you but his hips were chasing your touch and you weren't even close to giving in.

"Does that feel nice?" you raised your eyebrows, the glint in your eyes sinister. It was a side to you that you hadn't even discovered but seemed to enthral him. Behind the desperation, you could see that he was loving it. Loving you. On your knees. Torturing him.

"You know it does," he gasps, making you giggle as you kept moving, kept your pace slow, "come on love. You know I need more."

"Do I?" you purr in response, moving your mouth to his tip, pressing your lips just against him enough to taste the saltiness and warmth of his pre release. Alex's hips stutter, a low groan falling from his lips. His hand in your hair pushes your head in, an uncontrollable action but necessary nonetheless.

You know you're dancing on the edge of time. As much as you'd like to draw this out for minutes, hours, even - you don't have the leniency to do so. Not now, at least.

So you lean in, encasing your lips over him, finally giving him what he's so clearly craving. He takes a sharp inhale of breath, it releases in short spurts with some sweet, soft hums escaping him between them.

You start your rhythm, embracing the feel of him in you again, the heat of him in your mouth. Alex is loud off the bat, not shy like last time and he keeps his eyes driven to you as you move. Chocolate brown pools with adoration swirling around his irises nearly make you collapse against him and beg him to be yours. Steady hands that find your hair, twirling the strands around long fingers make you want to fall against him and never let go, beg him to hold you forever.

"That's so good darling," he whispers, soft like velvet, making your heart clench in its cavity, your stomach flip. You never knew a moment so heated, so full of passion and desperation, could also be so damning. There's something about the way he looks at you, the way he touches you that feels as if it's branding you to be his, to want nothing more than him. If you thought you were a goner before, this is sealing the deal.

"You're gorgeous," he breathes out, a moan tumbling from swollen lips when you swirl your tongue over him, staring up through your lashes. His cheeks, stained red, beads of perspiration forming on his forehead as he sucks in another breath. You play for a while, trying to find what makes him tick; you find that when you take him deep, to the point tears are streaming and you're close to gagging, his hips bucks like he means to become you and a strained curse falls from his lips.

So you do it again, and again, until he's near unravelled, looking dishevelled against the wall.

"Fuck...." Alex's hips stutter, his eyes rolling somewhere into the back of his head in time with his head, banging against the wall. The tremble of his thighs under your palms make you smirk against him, still swirling and sucking like your life depends on it, the lewd wet sounds bouncing off the walls.

"Oh Christ," his hand tightens in your hair, enough for it to hurt but you ignore the pain, "I'm gonna-"

He cuts himself off with a groan, the look of urgency in his eyes makes you smile around him but you don't pull off and so he lets himself go, not that he appears to have much choice. His eyes fall closed as he releases in your mouth, a soft whimper falling from his lips that's like music to your ears.

Eventually he stalls your movements, gentle now but overstimulating nonetheless. He's breathless, undone and in awe when you stand up, shaky on your legs. He cups your elbows and kisses you deeply, humming into your mouth with a sound much like content. Much like fulfilment.

"Thank you," he mutters against your lips, pulling away with a watery gaze full of unspoken words. The air has been tainted and yet the fear to make it worse still lingers, you take a step back from each other, staring wordlessly towards each other. You're pining, he's pining but there's something invisible between you both telling you that it isn't right. That it can't be.

You pulled your phone out, muttering something about sorting yourself out only to gasp in horror when your reflection finds your eyes.

Alex looked perfectly composed. You, however, definitely didn't. Your makeup had run, your hair was a state from his eager hands and your cheeks were spotted with red from the lack of oxygen you'd consumed while going down on him.

"I look terrible," you groaned, trying to tame your hair but without a brush there wasn't really much you could do. Alex grimaced and shook his head.

"No you don't."

"Okay," you rolled your eyes, making him stifle a smile, "but I do look like I've just sucked a dick."

"Yes well," he laughs, "I think it suits you."

"Cheeky!" you exclaimed, watching his face light up and his shoulders relax as the laughs rumble through him. It's rare to see him casual, lost in anything other than his own mind. But it's a sight to behold, and you can't help but smile at it. At him. Being like this with you.

You wonder how long it will last this time. Whether on Monday, you'll stride in and act like you barely know each other again. Alex is confusing, even in his explanations. You don't have it in you to ask and ruin the moment but you hope, pray, that he won't shut you out all over again. Even if you're just friends, it's better than him having his way and then ignoring you entirely.

"The Christmas party is soon," he says. You've both packed up and began walking to the car park. You still don't look presentable but luckily it's just the two of you around, bar a few students on campus that you thankfully don't recognise, "are you going?"

"Jane has mentioned it and I've said yes," you nod and he smiles.

"Great."

"Are you going?"

"Mhm."

You roll your eyes at his classic response, the same one that used to grate on you, you now found endearing. You knew why; you were starting to like him. It was probably dangerous territory, one that he'd actively stated you both shouldn't cross. You were staring straight into the face of fire, feeling the heat of the flames and yet you just kept walking towards it like the blend of oranges had you hypnotised beyond sense.

"Come to mine before. For dinner."

"But you said about....we can't...."

"Please?" he said, stopping at your car. You stood by the door, peering inside like there might be a sign in there on what decision to make. Nothing. Just darkness and one glistening penny.

"Well don't you think....if we turn up together?"

"We'll walk in separately," he defends, "it's no biggie."

"No biggie?" you raise your eyebrows, barely suppressing a smile at the casual language. Alex rarely talks like an actual human being and more like a human novel. He smiles and nods and so you shrug.

"I'll think about it."

He nods and you get in your car, he taps the window and waves as you pull out of the car park, watching his silhouette slowly fade from your vision in the rear view.

Alex's apartment feels like an entirely different space from when you were last here. The room, bathed in a warm yellow glow, appeared cosy and inviting opposed to the darkness that had swallowed you last time.

He took your coat and you blushed as your eyes grazed over the leather settee, still tainted in your minds eye with what had occurred on those very cushions. You felt like you could see the two of you on it, him on top of you, your heels dug into his pale skin, your nails digging into his shoulder blades, leaving marks that were yet to fade.

It smelt of vanilla, but blended in was the classic, warm scent of old spice. For once, you couldn't smell smoke. Your eyes grazed over the simple decoration. It wasn't much of a home, per se, there were no photos, no ornaments, no nod into who he was beyond the university walls. But in the corner sat a guitar, a sleek black fender, it looked expensive with its perfectly polished silver strings and the lights bouncing off its varnished texture. Other than that - beige, black and white was all that met your eyes.

You'd hoped the light would offer some insight to his character. Maybe there would be a photo of him and his daughter, or a novel that strayed from his usual interest or even a record on a shelf to show what music he likes. But nothing. Nothing except that guitar. At least that explained the callouses. One, tiny minuscule detail about him that you now knew, felt like a success.

"Drink?" Alex wondered, walking to the open plan kitchen. The beige counter tops were offensively ugly, he looked wrong stood there so beautifully in a tux against something that looked so nineties and not the trendy part.

"Sure."

"I've got water, tea and wine," he shrugged and you laughed.

"Wine."

"White? Red?"

"White."

"Mhm."

He busied himself making the drinks while you sat at a glass table, perfectly clean, not one scratch, nor clutter on it. It made sense that he was a clean freak, his office was the same. But he himself appeared so unorganised, that it was a stark difference. Another small thing that seemed a success to know. Yet no less confusing.

"How long have you lived here?"

"Hm?" Alex glanced around, his cheeks splotched with various shades of pink and red, lips pulled inward. It was almost as if he'd forgotten you were there, the guest he'd so brashly invited here, long lost in the mind that raced beyond his comprehension.

"Oh, um....about five years."

"Is that when you started living here....or?"

"I've always lived here, well, in the city," he moved over to you with the glasses of wine and sat next to you at the table, "I moved into this flat when I got the job at the uni."

"What did you do before?"

He took a gulp of wine. Your incessant questions were clearly putting him on edge but at least he was answering them with more than his notorious 'mhm'. You'd probably leave if he dared utter that as a response again.

"I was a teacher at a secondary school. But I hated it."

You chuckle, "yeah. I've heard it's the worst of education."

"The kids are just too uninterested," Alex shrugs, "I was the same at their age. They aren't old enough to....appreciate art, you know? I find it tough trying to pitch it. So I'd rather work with young adults, who at least think they'll be interested."

You hum in response, momentarily wondering what he's like as a lecturer. You can't imagine him conducting a class, stood at the front demanding the attention of several bored students. You try to engage as much as possible, choosing activity based learning and practice opposed to informative learning where you speak the whole time. How Alex might teach is lost on you, but something tells you those students respect him more than it may seem. He doesn't verbalise his expectations, but they're clear nonetheless. Even with you. Silent command. No room for defiance.

Alex asks you about your life, how you ended up here, where you've come from. You don't have the same experiences that he has but he still nods enthusiastically while you speak, seeming interested in learning more about you.

After a while, your stomach rumbles. It isn't audible but Alex can sense your discomfort nonetheless.

"I can't cook," he states, making you cock your head, "literally, not at all. It's my worst....trait.”

"Really?" you narrow your gaze, making him laugh, "I reckon there's worse things than that."

"I've got some menus here," he pulls some takeaway menus from a draw, spreading them neatly before you like he's presenting rehab choices opposed to dinner, "if you wanted a takeaway."

"We can just have food from the buffet when we get to the party, if you like," you shrug. Alex looks relieved and puts them away before you both move to the settee to continue your conversation.

You're surprised by how easy it is to talk to him when he's actually relaxed. You thought you knew of him before, now you realised that you hadn't had him sussed out at all. The panicky, quick nature of him at work was not the same laidback, easygoing man in front of you now. The fumbling, awkward conversations that had jeopardised your opinion at the beginning, were nothing on how intensely he listened to you now, asked questions, offered answers.

You got so carried away talking to him, that you forgot about the party entirely. But then....his phone rang.

"Sorry," he winced, moving towards it. He looked at the contact and let out a silent sigh, before holding his finger up to you and leaving the room.

You sat straight up on the settee, your ears practically stretching to hear what was being said. You were being assumptive thinking it must be her, but something deep in your gut, something wedging into you and making you queasy, told you it was.

You could barely hear him, it was more a gruff jumble of sounds opposed to any clear words, probably because he was trying to speak as lowly as he could so you wouldn't hear. Regardless, you picked up on a few short sentences.

"....will be there soon....lost track of time."

That's about all you heard before his goodbye rung out loud and clear. A few moments passed before he left the room, as if he was gathering himself. You knew that the night was over the second you saw his face, scrunched up with sorrow.

"That was Joanna," he said, lingering next to the chair that his coat was hung over, "um....I promised I'd look after Noelle for the second part of the evening so she could go to the party. So....I won't be able to make it to the party. We lost track of time."

"Oh, okay," you stand quickly, as if you need to race out quite literally this second.

"I'm sorry," he swallowed but you shook your head, fixing him with a smile.

"It's okay Alex, I understand. I'll call a taxi quickly-"

"I'll drive you there, I've only had one," he points to the wine.

"Oh no you don't have to," you wave off, feeling a little awkward. It's not that you expect to be his first priority, you're not even sure what this is, whether this is a date or just friendly like he'd claimed when he invited you. Either way, it felt weird for it to end so abruptly. You were used to dating people who had all the time outside of work free, which meant sleepovers and attending bars and parties with no worries. Momentarily, you'd forgotten this man was a father. He had priorities outside of you, and you couldn't blame him for it. Not at all.

"It's really no trouble, it's pretty much on the way."

"Okay," you caved, pulling your coat over your shoulders. Your half drunk wine sat mockingly on the table, a reminder of your interrupted night. Just when you'd started to melt into the evening, it was ripped away from you.

"Thanks for the wine, and the company. See you on Monday."

You climbed out of the car, waving goodbye to Alex who had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He nodded, smiling but it was a meek smile. You weren't the only one affected by the abruptness of the end.

Regardless, you went inside and immediately made a beeline towards the bar ordering another glass of wine, even if you knew you shouldn't.

As you sat there, waiting for it to be served, you couldn't help but think about this....all of it. Alex having a daughter complicated things. But having a daughter with a woman who worked at the same place as you? That just made it worse. Soon enough, she'd be striding into this party and you'd have to pretend you hadn't been the reason he was late. It makes your skin crawl with unease. There was nothing between them, he said it himself. But a whole child? That's more than anything at all. That's more than a house, a marriage, it's even more than love. It's forever. There's no escaping it. Not that you'd want him to step away from it, especially not for you. But you can't deny it - it's hard to imagine ever being comfortable with the idea of being second best. Of him sharing something so precious, so personal, with someone else entirely.

You'd never even thought about being in this position, even though you're now in your thirties, and it was common. It still felt so foreign. Something you thought only happened to older people, to divorcees, to people who had had it all rather than some random encounter that led to something so serious. So permanent.

You had to admit that you weren't ready for it. To be in that position, to understand it even. And you were grateful that Alex had already laid down the law that it wouldn't work, stated he didn't have the time, wasn't in the position. Because admitting out loud that you weren't mature enough to cope with it would surely make you seem terrible. Especially when you like him so much.

Christmas break followed the party, and you were eager for some time to recover from the weird second half of this semester. Papers were due and you still had some marking to do before you were completely free, but that was pale in comparison to the work you'd had to manage during the term so you certainly wouldn't complain.

The town felt dull and empty when bared of the students. You walked through it with your shopping at hand. It was freezing but you'd fancied a walk nonetheless. The peace of the town hung over you in a blanket of comfortability. Even if it was bizarre not to hear the buzz of young people around the streets, it was nice for it to be still for a while.

You smiled at an older couple walking past, a woman walking with her kids, a man with a dog that jumped at you and made you giggle. Everybody was clad in hats and scarves and gloves, winter had come, full frontal but you loved how cosy it all was.

You found yourself sidling up in a cafe, a burning hot tea between your hands. The tie on cushions didn't disguise the hardness of the wood chair beneath you, the table was a little sticky with remnants of sugar poured throughout the day and they were playing radio pop hits that were so overplayed it made your ears hurt - but you felt content nonetheless. You leant back into your seat with a sigh, watching the people in the streets, the wind blowing around rubbish and leaves, the sky greying in preparation for a downpour you should probably try and avoid. But here you are, revelling in all the little attributes that make up a season.

"Samantha?"

A woman called your name, snapping you out of the peaceful trance you'd let swallow you whole. It was almost brutal being pulled back to reality, the music harsher, the tea scalding you as it poured over the rim when you jumped.

You looked up as you sucked the droplets off the side of your finger, catching sight of Joanna with that big, bright and brilliant smile. You glanced down to her side, she was holding the hand of a little girl who looked vacant, big brown eyes boring into nothing in particular. Her cheeks were red rosy from the sharp, cold air and she was wrapped up in a red felt coat that looked so cute you'd usually gush over it. But you couldn't gush. You couldn't even speak. You just looked back at Joanna, uselessly forming nothing except an awkward, forced smile.

"Fancy seeing you here! I love this place," she gestures around, "my mum actually owns it. So I could've got you that on the house if I'd seen you."

"Oh....no it's fine, thank you," you waved it off, eyes widening when she took a seat at your table, pulling the child onto her lap. You were in no position to tell her to leave, especially not in a place her own family owned. You felt so awkward that tears prickled at the corner of your eyes. Suddenly, the scalding tea felt more comfortable than her eyes on you.

"It's a beautiful place," you said, "when the students aren't here I like the quiet."

"Bad for business, but hell....good for some peace," she hummed in agreement.

"This is your daughter?" you gesture towards her, she's now gazing curiously at you, eyes so familiar to Alex's that it was almost scary. You lifted your tea to your lips only to cloud the view of her staring at you. You just couldn't bear it. You didn't even know if Alex would want this, you and the mother of his child sharing a tea like the oldest of mates with his own daughter felt so wrong. And yet she had no idea. You can't help but wonder what she'd think about you if she knew, or whether Alex had told her at all. Maybe she was trying to be nice to relax you, make it known that she wasn't a threat. Or maybe she was just clueless. You prayed for the first but knew Alex well enough that it would be the latter.

"Yes," Joanna looked down, lifting her daughter's hand up to wave, "say hello Noelle."

"Hello," the child's voice was a mere whisper, a sweet, subtle melody that made you smile despite yourself, despite the discomfort.

"Hi Noelle," you grinned, "that's such a beautiful name. So christmassy."

She smiled shyly, her cheeks glowing a beautiful rosy pink, "mummy says because I was born around Christmas."

Her pronunciation of the word made you chuckle, you and Joanna sharing that look that women do, when they're enamoured by a child just being so cute, so innocent.

"It's her birthday soon?" you wonder.

"Yeah," she kissed the top of her head, a teasing pout coming to play on her lips, "she'll be four. It feels horrible knowing she's getting older but I love it all the same. My little bestie, aren't you love?"

"Mhm," she nodded.

Alex. All you could see in her was Alex. Sure, she had the same face shape as her mother, the same raven dark hair. But her eyes, her words, even her mannerisms alluded to him enough that you'd probably consider she was his even if you hadn't known.

"Her dad is taking her to the farm today for an early celebration," Joanna smiled, "he should be here soon. You might know him actually, he's-"

"Sorry I'm late, traffic was-"

Alex burst in. In light of your conversation, you'd not even heard the bell ring. He stopped, skidded to a halt right at the edge of the table, nearly toppling over it. His eyes darted, from you, to Joanna, to Noelle who was grinning up at him, clearly excited to see her father.

"Oh....er....hi Sam."

"Alex," you nodded curtly and then stood, barely able to comprehend how this was happening. How your morning had been so relaxed and peaceful and somehow, despite that, he had come in like a tidal wave to ruin it all over again.

"I better get going before this defrosts," you lift up your shopping bag like it's proof in your measly excuse. Joanna glances between you and Alex, the smile on her lips faltering a little, like she can't work out why the air has grown so tense but she will soon enough.

"Nice seeing you Joanna, and lovely to meet you Noelle."

You rushed off before another word could be said, trembling with the realisation that you couldn't have handled it worse. Nevertheless, you keep walking, not even daring to glance into the window they're all still sat at,

The last thing you'd expected was to meet their daughter. Or for her to tell you about it. The way Alex had said it was as if no one at all knew, but clearly she was far less ashamed of the fact than he was. Or he just hated David interfering, which you couldn't blame him for.

Regardless, it took you hours to stop cringing and even then, every time you thought of it after, you grimaced to nothing and no one in particular. You'd barely spoken to Alex after that night at his. It wasn't personal and this time it wasn't just him - the end of a semester is busy for anyone involved. He'd still been friendly around and you too, you'd just assumed that was it. You were bound to be friendly at work and nothing more. You didn't even have his number, it had been a while since anything had happened. You were safe in the knowledge that you weren't ready and neither was he. That was it.

But this felt harrowing.

You groaned to yourself, burying your face in your hands on the settee. It was a small town and you bumped into people you knew frequently, but that didn't mean it wasn't weird that there'd been some big family reunion that you were smack bang in the middle of.

But then, it happened again. You were starting to think it wasn't a coincidence. What are the chances you'd bump into her again? So soon after seeing her beforehand. You felt as if she was seeking you out. You'd turned up to your local park run, hoping to clear your head with an easy pace and some good music. And there she just happened to be, stood with a group of women, some holding prams, some dogs and some childless. It looked like the cast of desperate housewives, but maybe that was just mean and you were bitter.

Either way, you'd have been happy to avoid her and pretend you'd not seen a thing. But of course, she spotted you, long arm waving high in the air and that same bright smile on her lips. You imagine Alex got out of it the other day, somehow, and that's why she's being so friendly.

"Hey Sam!" she ran over, jogging on the spot unlike you, arms crossed and suddenly regretting your decision to come to this stupid, trivial event, "we need to stop bumping into each other like this! What are the chances!"

You chuckled, it was a polite, but uncomfortable sound - almost weak. She didn't catch on, just waffled on about how she’s here every week, how much she loves it, how you should join them after for a coffee. You nod and hum where needs be, for the first time in your life wishing you'd been late so you could avoid this.

You ended up running your fastest pace ever, trying to finish the race before she did so you wouldn't have to talk to her over. The minute you were covered by the roof of your car, engulfed by a space that was just your own, you breathed a sigh of relief and basked in it for several minutes.

Luckily the next few weeks that passed, you didn't see her again. You spent a week in your hometown with family, and then new years with a friend somewhere else. By the time you returned, you felt okay again, ready again to face a new semester.

The students weren't back yet but it was early January and there was a lecturer training day to attend. You were nervous to see Alex but at the same time excited to see Jane and to get back into some normalcy after a month of eating crap and drinking wine.

Alex was already in the room when you entered, leant back in a chair spinning his pen around his fingers. A sheet with the agenda on sat before him, not that he seemed to be paying attention to it. Other than you, Jane who was leading the class and another lecturer who didn't even lift their head, he was the only one here.

You decided to bite the bullet, taking the seat next to him. He didn't even look around, he was engrossed in something or the other, you could never figure it out in that placid gaze. But when your hand laid on his upper arm, he jolted slightly before looking to you, those eyes displaying something much softer, more tender as they fixed on your face.

They roamed around your features, as if in the mere month that passed, he'd forgotten them entirely. But with each freckle, each crevice, each line of your face, he looked more and more enamoured. It can't have been longer than a second, but that second seemed to stretch into weeks, months, years. By the time his eyes returned to yours, your heart was racing and your mouth was dry.

You'd been looking at him too, studying the little things about him as if you'd forgotten it all too. The little mark below his lips, the fluffiness of his dark eyebrow, his perfectly straight but large nose, the way his stubble had grown in. Typically, all flaws. And yet you found something beautiful about all of them.

"How are you?"

"I'm fine," you swallowed, "tired. You?"

"Mhm," he nodded, his eyes growing hazy, as if he was in a lull caused by your presence, by the mood you emitted, "yes. Me too."

Nothing more was said, but it didn't feel like there needed to be. You worked next to each other in a comfortable silence, heavy with mood but not necessarily in a bad way. Unspoken words hung between you both, none cynical, none offensive - all pointing to what would happen, what you both knew you wanted the second you'd locked eyes today.

The day dragged on, you all sat, bored, disengaged, all still lost in the haze of Christmas just passed. It wasn't just the two of you and yet, it was bizarre that you two, different completely, but both constant thrivers, weren't interested at all.

By the time lunch came about, you jumped out of your seat and Alex wasn't far behind. He grabbed your hand, making sure it was just the two of you in the corridor before he dragged you into his office.

Two minutes passed, he was on you, hot, heavy, but not fast, not desperate like he usually was. He took his time, savouring each kiss you let him have, each stroke of your tongue against his own. His hands gripped your hips, but he wasn't tearing your clothes off, not yet anyway.

You appreciated the lull in the pace, the gentleness, the warmth. You found it endearing that he didn't only care about his fix, but the build up mattered to him too.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you," he said against your mouth, opened in a gasp as his palm slid up your front, fingers grazing just the edges of your breasts, "not even for a second."

"Me too," your admission was softly spoken, shyly spoken almost. You felt ashamed to admit it, after being so sure with yourself that it was over, that you weren't ready. But he was hard to resist, gorgeous, endearing and so, fucking, sexy.

"Yeah?" he grumbled, a low throaty groan leaving his lips when you pressed against him, your arms caught around his back, pulling him as close as you possibly could, "missed me?"

You huffed a laugh that soon turned into a moan when his hands caught you, lifting you up as he often did. He walked you both over to the desk, no urgency in his actions but you could feel his want nonetheless.

He placed you down gently, the wood pressing into your arse but you didn't mind - especially when he started kissing down your jaw, to your neck, sucking on the little pressure points that made you shiver and grope him tighter.

"What is it?" he wondered, pulling away momentarily. Your hand had slipped between you both, cupping him as he swelled beneath your palm. He wasn't fully hard yet but by the second he was growing, you could feel each inch expand as you squeezed and rubbed him right where he needed you.

"About you? What is it about you?" he spoke in hushed, broken sentences. It made your heart ache, the fact he felt that way, the same way that you did him.

"Alex...." you sighed, pulling his head back into the curve of your nape, stroking the soft, bouncy strands. He let his face rest there, even though he was fully hard beneath his trousers, he was making no attempt to continue.

"I don't wanna fuck you like this," he whispered, his voice muffled but you heard him clearly. For a moment you felt offended, thinking that he didn't want you at all. But then he looked up, his eyes filled with something sweet, something that alluded to how he saw this as more, even if he shouldn't, even if that threshold wasn't meant to be crossed by either of you.

You were teetering on the edge of it nonetheless, you knew it, and he did too. A quick shag in his office was exactly what would stop you crossing that boundary. But he didn't want just that. Even if it was just a shag. His eyes told you he wanted to do it properly, to take you properly. Like you deserved.

"I want this," you whispered, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt, you forced him to look at you, to see you. Legs spread, chest spotted red, perspiration on your hairline, desperate for him, "I want you."

His eyes fluttered closed as he leant into kiss you, all his resolve crumbling at your sultry admission. He couldn't resist your seduction, and it wasn't even that he wanted to. This was complicated and you both knew it, but when he was on you, touching you like this....neither of you cared.

Alex lifted your skirt up to your hips, fiddling with his belt and then his button with a dark expression as he stared at you. Your breath came in quick, short spurts that echoed through the space. You could see your chest in your peripheral vision, rising and falling rapidly, matching the pace of the moment, your heart beating erratically.

You didn't look down even as he pulled himself out, shifting your hips closing to the edge so he could align with you. His hands came down against your cheeks and his mouth covered yours in a tender kiss as he started to push in.

You were tight, even if you were also warm and wet. He hissed as you gripped him and your mouths fell open against each other once he buried himself to the hilt, swallowing each other's gasps.

His eyes became glassy, his eyelids falling until they were nearly shut and he kept his lips hovering over yours as he started moving, slowly at first, letting you get used to his size, the shape and curves of him inside of you.

"Fuck," he hissed, "Christ....you're so tight."

"This is so bad," you mutter in his ear, as he moves inside of you slowly, teasingly. Your walls tighten around him, enamoured by his arrival, his small, gentle movements nudging the right spots to make you shiver, "anyone could walk in."

He let out a breathy chuckle, his mouth moving past your lips to the shell of your ear. He started to move his hips harder, hipbones clashing against your own, the sound of skin smacking skin echoing through the office, the walls probably barely concealing the explicit sounds.

"Would you like that Samantha?" he whispered, his voice deep, a teasing lull that coaxed a moan from your lips, "to be caught?"

You shook your head and he thrust harder, faster. One of his hands lifted your legs, the new angle allowing him deeper. It begged for a moan from you but you bit your lip until you could taste blood, trying not to react, not to make a sound or feed into his ego. He was good at pretending but you could see just how much this was affecting him too, a sweat broken out on his forehead, his white shirt sticking to his skin and turning transparent from the heat of his chest.

"No?" he teased you, hard, faster, deeper until you couldn't hold back your moans, no matter how hard you tried, "imagine what they'd think hm? Miss Williams, so kind, so helpful, so eager to learn...."

You could barely get a sound out other than piercing, high moans that would only alert the whole university to the ongoings. You bit into his shoulder, stifling yourself, making him hiss and fuck you harder.

"But you're such a dirty girl aren't you?" Alex continues, the hand holding your leg moving to your hair, gripping it at the roots and roughly pulling your head back so your eyes were fixed on him, "so fucking dirty."

"Alex," you whined, thrashing. He released you quickly, your head falling back against the desk along with your whole upper body. He grunted repeatedly as he unbuttoned the smart white shirt you had on, just enough so that your tits popped out.

The way you were laid made your body easier to explore. Alex laid one hand on your stomach to keep you in place, the other drifted to your middle, to rub you right where you needed him. You were swollen, puffy, so fucking wet that it was dripping all over your thighs and his desk. The lewd sounds of squelching could be heard throughout the room, mingling with your moans, his grunts, his hips smacking incessantly against your own. It was sinfully filthy, and you were loving it. The glint in his eye told you he knew it all the same.

His eyes fixed on yours, flickering between them and your tits that bounced with each thrust he gave. You took him well, but you were starting to tremble. The pleasure was unlike anything you'd ever felt, so indescribably euphoric that you could barely string a thought together, let alone a sentence.

Alex felt you tightening around him, the tension in you coiling to the point where all it would take is one, hard thrust and you'd crumble around him.

"You want to come?" he quirked a brow, his voice still low, filled with his lust. You could feel him twitching, your hands gripping the edges of the desk, preparing for him to take his desperation out on you. You nodded but he tuts in response, delivering a particularly hard thrust that had you shining, tears spilling from your eyes and staining your crimson cheeks.

"Words darling," his own voice had lost its authority. He spoke through his teeth, just barely hanging on. You clenched around him and he nearly fell on top of you but just about steadied himself, shuddering deeply.

"Yes," you sighed, "please Alex. I want to come. Please make me come."

He groaned, speeding up the pace of his fingers circling your clit, fucking you at an angle that made your vision starry, like you were laid under the stars on the clearest night of the year.

Within seconds you were finished, you gripped him like a vice, your back arching and your body shaking as you reached a peak you'd never been to before - not even in previous orgasms. Your vision went black as the euphoria fell over you like fairy dust that you couldn't grasp but would've clung onto forever if you could have.

Alex groaned, watching your face scrunched in pleasure, feeling the vice-like grip of you, he couldn't hold back any longer. He pulled out quickly, only just managing to grip the base of himself before his warm, thick cum landed in splatters across your chest. It came so fast, so much of it, that a streak even landed across your lips, warm and salty seeping through the seam, making you moan weakly.

Alex collapsed on top of you. The weight was comforting in your vulnerability, you held him close, feeling him soften and drip against your thigh. Your hands found the roots of his hair, careful, tender touches that made his breathing steady, his chest slow in its pace.

You laid like that for ages. You had an hour before you had to return, but food, socialisation - they were the last thing from your mind. You laid beneath him and you held him close as he breathed into you, nuzzling into your chest. His shirt was probably ruined from how it was pressed into his release, but that didn't stop him from trying to get closer, trying to feel as much of you as he could before he had to say goodbye again.

"Alex," you muttered, feeling the vibration of a soft hum against your collarbone, "we need to go back."

"I know," he sighed, but he didn't move and you didn't urge him to. Your grip on his tightened, legs circling his waist, arms circling his neck. You clung to him like you never meant to let him go, because in this moment, you couldn't even imagine doing so.

But eventually, you knew your time was up. Alex peeled himself away from you, dismay covering his brow when he looked towards his chest to see the now dried, white marks staining his shirt. He pulled his jumper back over his head, disguising it before he pulled some tissues free from a box on the window seal and gently wiped up the remainder of the liquid, now cooled and sticky against your chest.

His eyes flickered to you as he did so, full of content. You managed a small smile at him, legs kicking as they hung loosely from the desk.

"Can I have your number?"

You laughed. You couldn't help it. It just seemed so obscene that after everything he didn't even have somewhere to contact you. He joined in, noting just how weird it was - the backwards way you two had gone about things wasn't exactly a romance novel, but it was the narrative of you two. And he loved that.

While Alex returned to the room, you went to the bathroom to compose yourself and fix your makeup before you had to return. You stared at your reflection, poking at your red cheeks, your eyes now fixed but still watery, the swell of your lips from his heavy kisses. You traced them now, trying to remember the feel of them, the reenaction in your head making you shiver, still so sensitive even minutes later.

Nobody batted an eyelid when you returned, much to your relief. You sidled back up next to Alex with your secret close to your heart, your thighs brushing together beneath the table. You felt like a giddy teenager, his touch like a flame to your gasoline.

It was unspoken but something had changed. Become more raw, more personal in the weeks that had passed. You wondered how that could be possible when you hadn't even seen each other, but concluded that he'd lived rent free in your mind from the moment he'd kissed you. And you were in no mind to evacuate him. Not yet, at least.

At the end of the day, you walked in a comfortable silence to your cars. He lingered at yours even when everybody else was going home, looking over to you with a soft, pleading gaze.

"Will you come over?"

You nodded, not willing to argue with something you wanted. Needed, even. Whether that be a conversation, another encounter or hours of you watching television - you wanted some time with him after craving just that for so long.

You followed his car back to his apartment and walked wordlessly inside. You felt a lot more comfortable now than you had at the beginning but after his revelation, his behaviour had made sense and you forgave him.

"I'll make us a brew."

You nodded and made your way over to his settee, the piece of furniture now familiar to you. You sunk into the cushions with a sigh, letting your head fall back. You've been tired recently, trying to outrun your mind isn't easy.

Alex placed the tea in front of you, the mug steaming, bringing a comfortable aura to the space. He clicked on the lamps and turned off the big light before sidling up beside you on the settee, closer than he had before. His arm came to rest around your head, and the butterflies in your stomach felt juvenile. And then he was leaning in, kissing you again, making them flutter all the way up your throat until you couldn't breathe, couldn't move bar your lips, on his.

He kissed you until your lips hurt and you were both gasping for breath, only finally pulling away when the tent in his trousers began to ache. He pulled at them, the discomfort evident on his brow.

"I like you Samantha," he said as he pulled away, his voice full of a wonder that was almost childlike.

You felt bad though, ending up frowning and looking away opposed to melting into him like you wished you could. Alex seemed to tense immediately, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he gently shook you.

"Was that....too much?" he breathed out, the insecurity in his voice piercing. He'd admitted to you how hard he found it with women and yet here you were, making it worse for him. But you couldn't lie.

"No it's not that," you reassure him, squeezing his hand, "you told me you weren't in a position for this."

"I know-"

"And to be honest Alex, I'm not sure that I am," you cringe as the words come out, having just fucked him and kissed his lips red raw at his own flat, it was contradictory and you knew it.

Alex shuffled a bit further away, more to grant you space than to scold you but you felt the heat of the moment dissipate and be replaced with that familiar gruelling tension.

"We work together-"

"But that doesn't have to be a problem," he argued, voice soft, hand still gripping yours like he was trying to convince you through the strength of his touch. And it could work, you both know that.

"It's not just that...."

Realisation flashes across his face, you quite literally see it dawn on him. Your heart races with guilt, your skin prickling with it and you try to remain neutral but you already feel close to tears before the conversation has barely begun.

"You aren't comfortable with Noelle," he states it, looking away from you with a hand trawling through his hair, regret lingering in his eyes.

"I don't know, I've never...." you huff, words failing you as you try to get this across without ruining his faith in women entirely, "....I don't know how to deal with that."

"Yeah it's....I get that," Alex completely removes his touch from you now.

"I find it weird being around your ex-"

"She's not me ex," Alex stands quickly, his voice sharp and it immediately silences you. Shocked, you sink into the cushions like you mean for them to swallow you whole.

"She's not anything to me like that," he says, hands on hips as if he's giving you a right telling off, you nod wordlessly but he's in his own head now, "it was an accident. And fuck....I'm glad its happened because I love Noelle, of course but....it wasn't on purpose."

"I know that-"

"No you don't," he holds a finger up to you, eyebrows and dark eyes blending into one angry, intimidating sight, "she's never been anything like that to me-"

"Alex you fucked her, didn't you?" you snap back, annoyed by how he's taking his frustrations out on you.

His hand trawls through his hair and he winces, like the reminder of how this situation came to be pains him somehow.

"Yes well....that's nothing is it, people fuck," he shrugs but he sounds uncertain of himself. Sighing, he looks up to the ceiling, blinking at the cracked paint, looking for something he's not going to find.

"I'm sorry, I just....I don't want to lie to you and say I'm completely comfortable with it. I've always been....with people that are child free, I just....I wouldn't know how to, balance that."

He nods, releasing his hands from his hips and his head back into place.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry Alex."

"It's fine," he says, too quickly for it to be true. You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, silencing you without even a word, "I'll see you out."

"Alex...."

He stood, hands on his hips again staring out the window to the nothing beyond it. It was dark, only the skeleton of a tree was visible, and yet you'd think there was some hidden magical wonderland in his line of vision that you were ignorant to, with how taken he was.

Even though he'd said those words, he didn't walk you to the door and you didn't attempt to leave. Instead you walked over to him, watching the way he nibbled at his lips and avoided your eyes at all costs, like he couldn't bear to see the rejection in you.

"Alex...." you reached him, your hands splaying out on each of his cheeks. You felt his breath quicken against your fingers and the muscles in his cheeks twitch, but other than that he gave no indication that he was aware of you.

"I like you too."

His eyes fluttered closed, a subtle shake of the head indicating that he didn't want to hear it. But you refused to leave here having him think he wasn't worth getting to know that lifestyle for. It wasn't that. It was your own self-doubt about how tolerant you could be, how you could rein in your jealousy, how you could accept to always be second best, that stalled you from jumping into this. Not him, not at all.

"It's not about you-"

"Noelle is a part of me," he snapped, pushing your hands off his face. You nearly stumbled from the force, but it wasn't violent, just a spurt of energy. He steadied you nonetheless, eyes growing apologetic.

"Which is what I find hard to....relate to."

"And that's fine," he nods again, "but just....don't make it about Joanna like she's the problem. We've never had any romantic feelings for each other."

"Okay."

You stood back, a little irked by his protection for something you weren't even criticising him over.

"Okay," he said back, equally annoyed.

The two of you stood like bratty teenagers, eyes fixed to the floor beneath your feet. You didn't want to leave, he didn't want you to go. But there was no going forward after what you'd just admitted. How could you just continue like those words hadn't tainted anything?

"You said you weren't ready either."

"I didn't expect to feel this way," his voice was strained, he was still torturing his hair, fingers trawling through the thick strands searching for some peace that was nowhere to be found, "about you. Not so soon, anyway."

"Neither," you admit, glad you're at least in the same boat about that. Alex's eyes flicker up to you, catching on yours with some kind of hunger simmering beneath them, but you gauge that it's not sexual, more so just the desire for you to be his. To want to be his.

"So, what now?" Alex wonders.

"You, kicking me out," you can't help but chuckle, your lips curling at the sides and Alex, try as he might to remain serious, quickly follows suit. The tension dissipates with your laughter, soon enough it's like nothing has happened at all.

You both sit back down, you grab your now lukewarm tea and Alex grabs the remote, chucking on some reruns of an old show you both admit to loving. For a while, you sit in that comfort. A tv buzzing, teas at hand, the cushions swallowing your outline until you can barely be arsed to move.

But you can sense Alex is still thinking about it all, you can practically hear his mind buzzing but you won't know what until he realises how to conduct it. You might never know what, if he doesn't conduct it at all. He’s not the type of man to speak without meaning to. You watch him silently, sipping on your tea as you do so.

His side profile is more stark even than his front, with his sharp edged nose, dark lashes, high cheekbones and prominent jaw, you could barely pull your gaze away from him even if you wanted to. He was perfect, like he'd been carefully sculpted with an angle grinder to ensure every little detail, every crevice of him made sense - looked right, even if not conventionally perfect.

"You know...." he caught you off guard when he turned to you, sudden enough for you to jump and be caught staring, your cheeks glowing a dusty rose, "being with someone is really different to having a kid with them."

"I'm sure...."

"It's something I wouldn't have thought about, before," he admits, angling himself towards you. You take the step to reach out and pause the TV, wanting for him to indulge, to tell you what's racing through that busy, busy mind.

"I always thought that when you had a kid with someone, you were bound to love them," he said, swallowing a gulp of his tea as if he was letting his words linger and settle before he said anymore; you watched him tentatively, awaiting his next move like he was the most interesting part in a play.

"Maybe it was because me own parents were so in love, you know? Me whole life, never any troubles," he said, "they're still together now. Same house as when I were young. Never gotten bored or owt."

"But then when Joanna told me she was pregnant, there was no....I just didn't feel that way about her. No matter how hard I tried, and it was the same for her with me."

"Sometimes kids happen, as long as they have two present parents, the love part isn't relevant," you offer and he hums in agreement.

"I was so naive," he laughs, though it's bitter, unamused, "always thought the day I had a baby it would be the woman I loved most in the world. At first it was really hard to navigate having a kid with Joanna, no one tells you how to raise a kid when you were never with their other parent, do they?"

"It seems to me like you're both doing a good job," you state, catching his attention, eyes lingering on yours as if he's trying to figure out whether you - childless, scared of them all together - is worth believing, "I guess the silver lining is that you both felt the same. It would make the process easier than if there was one of you who felt more than the other."

"Mhm," he nodded, seeming content enough with your words.

"Have you ever....been with anyone since she's been born?"

Alex stifles, hanging his head suddenly. You gauge that perhaps there was someone, someone ill fitting for the situation. Someone who scared him off. But he just nods his head and you don't press him any further.

"I guess what I'm trying to say," he clears his throat, looking into your eyes with that familiar burning intensity that ties a string around your heart and robs it from your chest in the blink of an eye, "is that I understand your reservations. I probably would feel the same, in your shoes."

"Friends?" you hold a hand out for him to shake, ignoring the bemused smile on his lips contradicting the sadness in his eyes. He holds his hand out to you, his touch electric enough to prove your words wrong. The spark between you is no less dulled, but for now you both ignore it.

"Friends."

[cobaltfluff]

Bye bye, My Dxxr.

inspo from Summering by Jin based on original art by sidu

[akkivee]

like we all know saburo stole ichiro’s entire tdd flow lol but i also think jiro did a little as well by matching that jacket we’ve only seen ichiro wear like four times total lmao

[liquidstar]

WOW I FINALLY FINISHED THIS SET. There were a lot of things I wanted to get right for them so I took some extra time but hopefully it was worth it! The guild for this set is Cobalt Heart- a guild with focus on maritime missions, lead by (of course) guildmaster Neptune. There was no other planet I could've picked for his namesake lol. They're the guild I jokingly call the most jockish, but some moreso than others. I really do hope I did all the characters justice, but if you wanna know more about the individual members, it's under the cut as usual!

Name: Neptune

Name Origin: The planet named for the god of the ocean

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 52

Guild rank: Guildmaster

Weapon: Trident

Ethos (Power): Ocean wave (Control over water- stronger with sea water)

Flaw power is based on: Originally based on his overly relaxed go-with-the-flow nature, but since becoming a father and guildmaster he's matured, and his power grew from simple wave control to more powerful control over the ocean's water. Waves aren't always peaceful, but he's become someone who understands their power and the responsibility needed for it.

Notes: If it's unclear, the marks on his chest are meant to be top surgery tattoos, but in cool wave shapes!

Name: Triton

Name Origin: Neptune's moon, aptly named for his son

Pronouns: He/they

Age: 24

Guild rank: 4 star

Weapon: Twin sai

Ethos (Power): Ocean breath (Underwater breathing as well as other aquatic adaptions)

Flaw power is based on: His ardent wanderlust, especially in regards to the ocean. They literally cannot leave it alone despite any possible better reasoning, which is when it becomes a problem.

Notes: Was his other parent a mermaid or did they just do the fish thing on their own? The world may never know.

Name: Otrera

Name Origin: A trojan asteroid named after the queen of the Amazons

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 32

Guild rank: 5 star

Weapon: Brass knickles

Ethos (Power): Preflexes (Hightened reflexes)

Flaw power is based on: Her overly-guarded and cagey nature.

Notes: But her brass knuckles are pink so its quirky when she knocks your teeth out.

Name: Naos

Name Origin: A star whose name means "ship"

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 21

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Modified crutches

Ethos (Power): Helm (He can change the direction of inanimate objects. It's not limited to projectiles, he can change the direction of objects while they're in someone's hand too.)

Flaw power is based on: His avoidant tenancies, especially where more serious responsibility is concerned.

Notes: Honestly? Joined the guild to boost his playboy status.

Name: Aitne

Name Origin: One of Jupiter's moons, named after the personification of Mount Etna, a stratovolcano

Pronouns: They/them

Age: 27

Guild rank: 4 star

Weapon: Spiked gauntlets and armor

Ethos (Power): Molten Core (Lava manipulation)

Flaw power is based on: Their brash and destructive nature.

Notes: Likes all their food to be charred.

Name: Ariel

Name Origin: A moon or Uranus, named after an air spirit!

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 16

Guild rank: 2 star

Weapon: Baton

Ethos (Power): Harmony (Perfect balance on anything)

Flaw power is based on: Her own difficulty maintaining emotional balance under stress

Notes: She's a gymnast! And even though I didn't make the character named "Ariel" a mermaid, you can still see a scale pattern in her leotard!

Name: Maru

Name Origin: A white dwarf whose name means "Sky." It's orbited by the planet Ahra.

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 18

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Claymore sword

Ethos (Power): Sky walking (She is capable of interacting with air as if it were a tangible object, creating leverage for herself to walk and balance on as if it were solid)

Flaw power is based on: Her somewhat vain tendency to place herself above others

Notes: Complete and utterly confident she's the cooler twin

Name: Ahra

Name Origin: A exoplanet whose name means "Ocean." It orbits the star Maru.

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 18

Guild rank: 3 star

Weapon: Claymore sword

Ethos (Power): Wave riding (Creation and control of tidal waves to ride on, as if she was surfing them with no board. But she does have to be on them.)

Flaw power is based on: Her arrogance and recklessness

Notes: Completely and utterly convinced she's the cooler twin.

Name: Pipoltr/Pip

Name Origin: A star named for "a bright and beautiful butterfly."

Pronouns: Whatever really?

Age: 8

Guild rank: 1 star

Weapon: Giant lollipop

Ethos (Power): None yet!

Flaw power is based on: N/A. This doesn't mean they're flawless, but until their power develops they're really just here to go on fun little adventures.

Notes: This child hangs around with sailors all day long. The words they know....

[mysteriouspersonrambles]

Ok I’ve been a little busy but wanted to get this out so here’s the basic line up and a small rundown of the characters

It’s going to be under the cut because man this list is crazy long

Jon- Jack Skellington

This is kinda obvious they are both the MC’s of their own story. But more than that, they both have that untapped curiosity and need to know. I mean Jaco had a whole lab set up in the movie. It could also tie back to Jon with his whole “unrelating need for knowledge and distain for boredom” that he talked about having as a child. In this AU I imagine he didn’t grow out of it quite as much as he did in TMA. Although I would still argue that he doesn’t like being bored in TMA I mean while he’s supposed to be “lying low” he still goes out several times to interview people. He also still has some eye magic things like forcing people to tell him things and going all ceaseless watch. But it’s more magic than fear god and I think eyes are a pretty Halloweeny thing.

Martin- Sally

Listen I’m a Jmart girly all the way and I think he fits her storyline so well. He has her cleverness and ingenuity and I can so see him brewing up different poison soups, it’s just like tea. I can’t remember if it’s a cannon or fannon fact that he knits but I think that goes nicely with the whole seamstress thing sally has. I can’t also see him using the detachable limbs thing a lot more to his advantage. Also I think that both him and Sally are mischaracterized to softer versions of themselves and are way more devious than people first think. I would also change his background a bit so his mom is Doctor Finkelstein, but like she is mad at him for his help but still needs it. It’s complicated and I’ll got over it more in her section. But Martin is a complicated guy with his fair share of mommy issues but a good hear and is way smarter than people give him credit for.

Sasha- The Mayor

Sasha has a lot of big changes to her story. First off she is a very competent mayor working more with Jon kinda like a business partner than blind follower. She runs all of the day to day events and basics of running the town. She does all the business and Jon does Halloween essentially. She likes her job and is very good at what she does, and unlike the NMBC mayor she is pretty much the leader of Halloween town. Sasha’s other face the one she flips to is actually Not-Sasha. She looks and acts completely different but everyone still treats her like the same person. It’s a running gag that Non-Sasha looks a little different every time Sasha flips between faces but nobody ever says anything

Daisy- Zero

Yes I know I’m jumping out of order but it will make sense soon. Daisy and Zero was one part actually story stuff and other parts i thought it would be funny. In terms of story she acts like her season 4 self. She’s Jon’s best friend ever since he he found her as a wandering sprit, vicious and more wolf than woman. Think season 5 daisy but if Jon was actually able to save her. Alongside the help of Daisy’s old partner Jon used whatever Halloween magic he has to pull Daisy’s humanity back to the surface. Im thinking they got stuck in the coffin again, I think that would be pretty funny and very fitting. Anyway Daisy is a werewolf shapeshifting spirit, think of her wolf form as a more muscular Zero. Her nose glows in her human form too :). She’s essentially who Jon confides in and calls him and idiot but then tries to help. She has more of a role than Zero did in the film since she can speak. Daisy was also not very impressed at being the one to lead the sleigh but she did it anyway because Jon’s her best friend and she loves him.

Ok so Tim, Melanie and Basira are going to be grouped together because they are the trick or treaters.

In this case the story was changed a lot so the. Characters were picked not really for personality or relations. But more for continuity so they are all more or less themselves just kinda in Halloween town

Tim- Lock

Tim looks good in Red let’s be for real. He would also make the “devilish good looks” jokes you know he would

Melanie- Shock

Melanie gives off the vibes of someone who would dabble in Wicca, like she definitely owns tarot cards. And besides “ the blind witch” is metal as hell and I think she would appreciate it.

Basira- Barrel

I’m not sure what exactly Barrel is but the bones thing he has going on creates a nice tie back to Jack. Which in turn creates a connection between Jon and Basira which could tie back to the two of them saving Daisy. Basira also sees things for what they are, a sort of “bare bones” logic if you would.

Anyway so the reason the 3 of them are listed together is because in this AU they do still work for Oogie Boogie but it’s not consensual. They are all tied to him via a contract and are forced to do his bidding. Tho they often half ass it as a way to get back at him. Melanie is the one to figure out how to leave and that’s when she blinds herself to get out. I’ll go over the implications of this and what it does later in another post.

On to the villain: if you think the whole contract thing sounded familiar you’d be right

Elias Bouchard- Oogie Boogie

He’s mean he’s green, and Elias would love having a gambling aesthetic let’s not kid ourselves. Elias is also the main character villain of TMA and I think it’s fitting that he also gets the main villain role here as well. I imagine his lair to be less giant roulette table and more bureaucratic mansion. Essentially he built his own Magnus institute in the outskirts of town and people can come and test their luck. More of a poker style table than a role of the dice. He acts all fair but instead of eating people he traps their souls in contracts. He is also made of eyeballs instead of bugs and the ones in his head are called Jonah Magnus.

Peter Lukas- Santa

Yes yes I know what this implies but it’s funny. Also I didn’t know any TMA character that would properly fit this role so why not give it to the guy who probably looks like him. I also think Christmas is partially a conduit of The Lonely. I mean what’s lonelier than spending Christmas by yourself. I don’t even celebrate Christmas and I do feel a little left out sometimes hearing how everyone gets together with the their family and I’m not. What I’m trying to say is Christmas makes a lot of people lonely and I can see the Lukas’ taking advantage of that. It’s also really funny to imagine an Oogie Santa divorce going on. Like I’ll give them more scenes because I can imagine the tension and it’s so funny.

Others 

Martin’s mother- Doctor Finkelstein

This one is more due to character circumstances but I think it’s a very complex dynamic. We know from TMA that Martin’s mother hated the fact that he had to take care of her and I wanted to play on that here. In this world she made Martin this the help of a lab assistant who then ran off after an accident leaving her sick and mostly alone ( yes I know sally has a different backstory in long live the pumpkin queen but I haven’t read the book so I’m sticking with just the movie cannon and my own thoughts). She needs Martins help with taking care of herself mostly but she hates him for it. Yelling and belittling him. But she also knows that without him she will probably die so she holds on to Martin tight. Getting mad when he runs off, guilt tripping him into coming back. She eventually does make a new assistant but Martin cuts off all contact with her. He makes a choice for himself and stands up to her and leaves.

Georgie- human?

Georgie was literally the hardest character to come up with because there is no good character to match her with that is majorly important to the plot but Georgie is a big character in TMA so she had to be here. So I came up with the idea of her being human paranormal investigator ( like in TMA except her podcast is her going out to explore places) and winding up in Halloween town. There is a side plot where she meets up with Melanie and helps her escape Elias’ contract. She has no fear due to the transference between worlds and as such is welcomed into Halloween Town. Although she finds herself starting to change and she isn’t sure if she’s still completely human.

All the other denizens are background TMA characters, or other holiday rulers like Nikola as the Easter bunny ( that one wasn’t a mistake capturing her, Tim just wanted a bit of revenge because she stole his brother. Danny isn’t dead just an egg painter now.) I’ll assign more people later

Since it’s getting into the holiday season I’m thinking about my Nightmare Before Christmas TMA au.

I’ve got nothing but a head full of ideas and I don’t know if anybody want to hear about it

But it’s going to be in the back of my mind for most of December

[apatheticlexicographer]

MOTHERFUCK i did not realize how much those antidepressants made me feel physically psychologically and dare i say spiritually like a peat mummy

literally 2 days off them and i've experienced more joy, lucidity, motivation and general good vibes than i did in the whole 2 months i was on them 😭😭

[loverboybrightsideghost]

the more time passes since i first watched it, the more i like good omens season 2

[nonasuch]

it's that time:

Miss Universe National Costume 2024

is Here!

that's right! Everyone's favorite justification for the continued existence of beauty pageants has returned. with Looks!

Some of this year's top Themes include:

foliage!

gold!

weapons!

giant birds!

letting seventh-graders make your costume, apparently!

I did watch the video, but the most complete version I could find is missing a bit at the beginning. So I can't tell you what the inspiration was for anything before Bolivia; on the bright side that's fewer shitty rhyming couplets I had to suffer through.

Let's begin with:

Miss Angola! Tone down the color palette a little, and this honestly could have worked for that year the Met Gala was Catholicism- themed.

Miss Argentina, looking just thrilled about the sparkly toucan on her head. I feel like this is supposed to read as some combination of jungle/river/waterfall but this is from the part that I couldn't find on video.

Miss Aruba, I don't know if your giant spangly bird headdress was supposed to look like a potoo, but I am choosing to believe that it's on purpose and I love that for you.

(okay I checked, it's an endangered Aruban burrowing owl. even better!)

This is like the fourth year in a row Miss Australia has just worn a regular-ass gown. Do better!

You know who's doing better? Miss Bahamas, is who. Look at that giant fish. I wish I had video of this, I bet it moves.

Ah yes, when I think of Belarus I definitely think 'verdant tropical foliage.' also is it just me or is does the bodice fit very weird.

Holy shit, Miss Bolivia. This is where the video kicks in, so I can tell you that she somehow managed to dance in it. I'm a little afraid that this costume is going to eat Miss Aruba.

Miss Bonaire is from a Caribbean island that I don't think has ever competed in Miss Universe before? They have a national marine park that this costume is based on, which is is nice!

Miss Botswana's costume is made of leather and cowrie shells, and she is clearly having a great time being able to move freely without 75 pounds of headdress or platform heels. She did a very cute dance that kind of felt like a flex on her more heavily encumbered competitors.

Miss Brazil is wearing a tribute to Brazil's mineral wealth, which is something that basically every country with a mine in it has done at some point. I like the pannier-esque things, I guess.

Love a Tribute To A Weirdly Specific Thing, and Miss British Virgin Islands' mail-themed costume is a wonderful example of such.

Miss Bulgaria showed up dressed as a supervillain, her outfit is vaguely themed around 'the strength of women' and she just spat out a MOUTHFUL of BLOOD? on stage??? No idea how to react to that, frankly.

I'm going to pause to get the next batch of images together, and also to recover from the 'spat out a mouthful of blood' thing, because I was NOT prepared for that.

[aliyahwritings]

ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach. 

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. 

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy. 

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini. 

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you. 

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

[mariasont]

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor. 

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place. 

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back. 

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh. 

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[kaciidubs]

Talk Dirty [Like You Need Love]

This song has me thinking heavily about expanding this into a fuller fic, so if people end up liking it, maybe I'll go ahead and finish it further! ✧ Summary: Chris was a great friend, picking you up from work whenever you had a late shift - so, it was only fair that you wanted to repay him. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 3.5k ✧ Warnings: Biker!AU, friends to ???, smut, slight dom! Chris, open ended ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Baby, Good Girl, Pretty, Chris is referred to as Baby, Channie ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

The streetlights came and went in intermittent strobes, passing over the two of you as his motorcycle hummed along the sparsely occupied street.

Your arms were wrapped securely around his waist just as he’d taught you, the warmth of your body against his back combating the chill of the crisp night air - he really wished he hadn’t forgotten his hoodie in his rush to pick you up.

“Are you cold?” 

As if reading his mind, your voice floated through the comms of his helmet and he shook his head, “I’m alright, baby - don’t worry about me.”

Of course, you weren’t easily swayed - it was a quality he loved about you, no matter how much he preferred to be the one to look out for everyone else, you were always there to double back on him with undeterrable determination; proved by the way you leaned a little more against his back.

He wouldn’t have thought twice about your sweet gesture if it weren’t for the shifting of your arms, your hands slowly splayed against his torso.

“I always worry about you, Chris…” Your voice was soft, dripping with sweet honey as your right hand wandered its way higher, following the soft defined path of his chest underneath his shirt. “It’s hard not to, if I’m honest.”

He took a short breath, unsure if this was truly happening or if his mind was playing tricks on him and twisting your intentions to fit his deep seated desires.

That is, until your left hand carefully danced its way to his thigh, sitting nicely against the cotton of his sweatpants.

“You always do so much for everyone else- do so much for me,” your hand flexed, nails pressing lightly against his thigh, “I just wanna do something for you in return, you know?”

The bike slowed to a roll as you reached a stoplight, Chris keeping the balance with his otherwise unoccupied leg while taking the opportunity to hold onto the outside of your own thigh.

“Be careful with your words, baby - you might give me the wrong idea.”

“Are my actions not enough?” You murmured, inching your hand higher, fingertips brushing along the inseam of his sweats, “Should I do more, Channie?”

His hand left the brake clutch to wrap around your wrist, electricity flowing through your veins like a completed circuit. “You shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I need this.”

Your hand squeezed, your voice filling his head like the intoxicating lull of a siren’s call.

“I need you.”

Green.

Chris tapped your thigh, ignoring the chill that ran down his spine when you seamlessly went back to holding onto him just like he taught you; arms around his waist, your body against his back.

The ride to his apartment felt like second nature with you - much like other things he did with you, if he were honest with himself - and the moment he pulled into his parking spot, his movements only felt more natural.

Switch engine off. Kickstand down.

Your hands slid up his back, gripping his shoulders as you eased yourself off of his motorcycle, and by the time your touch left him, Chris hopped from his seat with learned grace - his hands unbuckling and taking off his helmet in record time.

By the time your own helmet was off, cradled in your arms, his intense gaze caught your eyes, locking you in a stare off that said more than words could convey, yet their true meaning would be lost to memory with what left his lips.

“Are you sure about this?” He breathed, “Tell me right now and I’ll take you home, and we can pretend none of this happened - just, tell me.”

“Chris,” his name fluttered from your lips like butterfly wings, “I meant every word, I’m sure, I’m so sure-”

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours - the warmth of his palm settling on your cheek in a hold that dared your knees to give out from underneath you - but as fast as they’d appeared, they vanished, leaving you dazedly blinking up at deep brown eyes.

“C’mon.”

The journey up to his apartment was a blur; the melodic chime of the front door’s lock welcoming you to the final stage of your decision as he ushered you through the doorway.

Shoes haphazardly kicked off next to another pile of pairs and helmets stored on a shelf, the empty living room was graced with your presence for what felt like half a second before you were finally where you needed to be.

Chris’s room was a place you’d only been inside of a handful of times, if not to stick your head in to announce your arrival when hanging out with his roommates, then to visit whenever he had a new snippet of a song he wanted to share; there wasn’t a chance for a tour then, and there certainly wouldn’t be a tour now.

With a subtle flick of a switch, the once dark room was suddenly bathed in a dim glow from the led lights lining the ceiling - warm and welcoming, much like the arms that wrapped around you from behind, followed by a soft pair of lips you were quickly getting used to pressing against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

His hold grew tighter as his lips ventured higher - a dotted line of kisses, a brush of his breath against the back of your ear, followed by the ghost of his lips along the shell. 

“Are you still sure?”

Your eyelids fluttered, your lips parting to sigh out words evoked from the fantasies of your deepest desires, “I’m yours.”

He turned you around, and for the first time you were able to truly appreciate the feeling of his lips against your own - soft, likely from the myriad of lip care products your friends tease him for, a sensation you could find yourself craving every day and never growing tired of in the end.

You kissed him back with fervor, taking the liberty of cupping the line of his jaw with one hand while the other cradled the back of his neck, the faint curls of his hair tickling your fingertips.

Chris was the first to pull away, gifting you a fleeting peck when you tried in vain to follow him, just to reach overhead and tug his shirt up and off before unceremoniously dropping it to the floor. However, he barely gave you the chance to admire the view as his hands went to help you out of your hoodie while your own hands hastily went to tug up your shirt in the messy, frantic process.

Two articles down, the warmth of his hands were now free to meet your waist and his lips were on yours once more; his hold tightening as he took a step forward, nudging and guiding you backward until the backs of your legs met the edge of his bed. Obliging to his silent request, you sat down, using the strength in your arms to wiggle yourself up enough to lay comfortably on the full sized mattress and welcome the weight of him on top of you until it wasn’t.

Looking up, you were met with his heated stare, all but devouring you with his eyes as he took in the view - though, you figured you fared the same way when your eyes ventured down, following the strong slope of his shoulders before taking in the sight of his chest.

It wasn’t a view you hadn’t seen before thanks to his aversion of shirts in his own home - granted, it was his apartment, so you couldn’t fault him for the times he’d come out of his room to see you happily chatting away with his roommates unbeknownst to him - but you could now appreciate the details you wouldn’t have taken in otherwise such as defined pectorals and the smallest beginnings of abs against his otherwise soft stomach.

Ending the unintentional standoff, Chris lent forward, his fingertips just barely grazing your lower stomach as they went to the button of your jeans, “Can I?”

“Please.”

The corner of his lips ticked up but he ducked his head before you could see the smirk blossom, though you couldn’t find yourself to care once your jeans were undone, lifting your hips to help him shuffle the garment down the length of your legs and watching him give them the same fate as your shirts.

“These too?” He mused with a teasing lilt, eyes flicking from your own to the plain black panties you wore.

A short huff brushed past your lips, an unamused pout pursuing them. “Chris.”

The sound of his delighted giggles bounced off the walls, reducing the heat of arousal to a nice simmer that your nerves greatly appreciated - that is, until his fingers hooked underneath the waistband and slowly pulled them off; the sensation of his knuckles dragging along your thighs drawing a soft gasp from you.

It wasn’t long until they were down your legs, past your feet, and dropped off the edge of the bed, leaving you entirely bare from the waist down.

“Fuck…” He breathed, propping his knee on the bed as his hands slid up from your calves to the backs of your knees, caressing your skin before gently bringing them up and out - exposing your pussy to his pure delight. “Look at you, pretty girl.”

A wave of heat washed over you followed by an embarrassed whimper, “Chris, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Looking up, he cocked his head slightly, “You said you were mine, which means I’m allowed to compliment what’s mine, yeah?” He bent down, maintaining eye contact as he kissed your knee softly, “You belong to me, right, baby?”

Your heart jumped to your throat, his words working like a spell against your lust addled mind.

“I belong to you.” You breathed softly, melting into his hypnotizing gaze.

A pleased hum vibrated through him as he dipped his head to kiss the inside of your thigh, his lips brushing against your skin, “Good girl.”

His kisses trailed higher and higher, growing messier and messier as he went - a nip here, a suck there, open mouthed and worshiping until he reached your pussy.

Just as he was about to dive in face first, your hand tugged at his hair, effectively breaking him out of his tunnel vision to give you his undivided attention.

“What’s wrong? Do you wanna stop? I can-”

“No! God, no - it’s just…” You took a deep breath, your bravado escaping you the instant you stopped him, “I want you to eat me out, but I wanna suck your dick too. I wanna make you feel good too, Channie”

“You wanna suck my dick, pretty?” A shiver ran down Chris’s spine at the mere thought, his dick painfully straining underneath his boxer briefs and sweats. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? Words like that coming from a mouth like yours - you’re a fucking dream.”

His presence left from between your legs and part of you felt silly for missing it until you saw him reaching for his sweatpants - even through the black fabric you were able to make out the noticeable bulge tenting the front - the waistband of Calvin Klein nudging you in the right direction of what he wore underneath.

Pushing both articles past his hips, your eyes were immediately glued to the dips in his pelvis - the Adonis belt, a fitting alternate description of his v-line until your attention jumped to a scattering of hair beneath his navel leading to seemingly maintained pubic hair.

However, your peep show was obscured by his head as he bent forward to take his clothes off the rest of the way, giving you the chance to mentally prepare for the grand reveal. By the time he stood straight again, you couldn’t help the audible gasp that left you, your eyes widening as you took him in all his glory - all of the jokes his friends would make now having validity behind their digs.

“I hope that’s a good reaction…” Chris spoke sheepishly, his ears as red as a tomato as he averted his eyes to the side, one hand twitching to cover himself while the other anxiously rubbed the back of his neck.

“Chris,” your soft call was enough to bring his eyes back to you, just in time to see you undoing your bra and tossing it to the floor, “I really want you in my mouth, baby.”

The air of shyness quickly left him as he smirked, making his way back onto the bed, “Say please.”

Reaching forward, your fingers danced along the underside of his jaw before you whispered, “Please?”

It was almost instantaneous in the way you found yourself straddled over his face, his hands massaging the plush of your thighs as if he couldn’t get enough of the way they squished and jiggled under his hold.

You leaned forward, eyes eagerly taking in his dick from the new angle; he was thick, probably an inch over average if you had to guess, with the prettiest veins that begged for your tongue to trace them.

“Don’t force yourself to take me, okay?” He called from the other end, the feeling of his breath against your cunt sending chills down your spine. “I know I’m… y’know, big, so I don’t want you to hurt yourself to make me feel good - you letting me do this is more than enough, baby.”

“I can do it Channie,” spitting into your palm, you graciously took him into your hand with a slow stroke, “I’ll be okay.”

A low groan escaped him, your sudden touch sending him into the stratosphere, “Just- Be careful for me, alright?”

Humming in agreement, you wasted no time in littering his tip in butterfly kisses and kitten licks, slowly getting yourself used to the bittersweet taste of his precum.

“Shit…” Not holding himself back any longer, Chris slid his hands up to your hips before pulling you back onto his mouth, his tongue eagerly diving between your folds as if it were an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day.

The action made you jolt forward, though you barely moved an inch thanks to his hold on you, your lips parting to let a moan float through.

“Mm, not too loud, baby,” he spoke against your pussy, kissing the hood of your clit, “don’t wanna wake up my roommates, yeah?”

As much as the idea called to something daring within you, you shook your head, using this as an opportunity to take the first few inches of his cock into your mouth; just enough to have the weight settle on your tongue while your hand stroked what you hadn’t gotten to yet.

“There you go.”

With that, he went back to exploring your pussy with his tongue, dipping past your walls every now and then before going back to dancing around your clit - his hands enjoying their new home on the curve of your ass.

To say the feeling of his mouth on you was mind numbing would’ve been the understatement of a lifetime - it was as if he was eating you out in the most respectfully disrespectful way, the sounds of his lips sucking your clit paired with low, breathless moans before he went back to lapping up your arousal was pure debauchery.

You tried your best to be diligent, bobbing your head in time with the curls of his tongue against your slit while your fist used whatever drool that dripped from your lips as lubricant to keep each stroke smooth and slick - your efforts not going in vain by the way his thigh would flex, or the twitch of his hips - but you were quickly falling victim to the pleasure.

“Taste so fucking good, baby,” he mouthed against your pussy, as if moving even an inch away would be detrimental to his psyche, “could stay here forever.”

The thought had you moaning around his cock, pulling away to give your lungs the reprieve of a full breath, only for a whined exhale to follow suit. “C-Chris, please.”

“Please, what?” Flattening his tongue, he licked a fat stripe up before giving your clit the lightest kiss imaginable, “Gonna come for me, pretty? Is that what you want?”

“N-No,” dropping your face to his thigh, you focused all of your energy into keeping your hand moving, “w-wanna make you come first, just- shit, just slow down a little!”

Chris hummed, feigning deep consideration, “But what if I want you to come for me?” His right hand slid further between your legs, his index finger stroking your fluttering walls with the promise of something more, “You said you wanted to repay me - so, let me make you come.”

Your hips bucked, muscles yearning to press back against the pressure to send you over the edge you were dangerously teetering over. “But-”

“Baby,” the velvet drawl of the pet name earned a pitiful hum in response, “you wanna make me feel good, don’t you?” He felt your head nod against his thigh, huffing out a short chuckle before continuing, “You wanna ‘repay’ me for everything I do for you, right?”

“Yes.” You sighed out, eyes fluttering at the feeling of his thumb replacing his finger in favor of toying with your clit.

“Well, guess what?” Dragging his thumb up, he pressed it against your slit, “Watching you come for me- Feeling you come for me is all I could ever want from you,” slowly pushing his thumb past your walls, he ghosted his lips against your inner thigh, “show me how good I’m making you feel, baby - do it for me, please.”

He punctuated his plea by swirling his tongue around your clit once more, thrusting his thumb in time with each flick while his left hand held your hip tightly.

Your mouth fell open, a moan fighting its way through your vocal chords only to come out as choked gasps, “Ch-ah- Channie- Fuck- Channie p-please-”

Pressing his thumb in to the knuckle, Chris wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, humming out a low moan that proved to be the final straw to push you over the edge.

“Chris- C-Chris-!” Lifting your head, you put your mouth over your arm in hopes of muffling the airy moans escaping you, your vision blurring behind pleasure-fueled tears as he worked you through your orgasm.

His thumb slipped from your entrance to make room for his tongue to lap up your cum, drinking you up like a tall glass of water after a day in the sun.

It didn’t take long for you to catch your bearings, going to move away from his face until his hands tightened on your hips in silent challenge, a disgruntled grunt rising from your pure audacity of interrupting him.

“Channie, ‘s too much,” you whined breathlessly, wrenching your hand away from his - still hard - dick in favor of pushing yourself up onto your arms, “c-can’t take it, baby, please.”

Pulling away with a lewd slurp, Chris heaved a heavy breath, combating the lightheadedness of his tunnel vision while you carefully maneuvered yourself away from him - shuffling around to hover your head over a pillow before collapsing in the empty space, your body gratefully welcoming the cool sheets against your skin.

Bated breaths danced in the otherwise quiet atmosphere, Chris’s gaze locked on the ceiling as his lust-fogged brain tried to make sense of what just happened between the two of you.

“Channie?”

His heart fluttered at your soft call of his name, turning his head just to come across a sight that made his breath catch; you, his friend, laying beside him looking beautifully ruined with the golden afterglow of your orgasm that he gave you emanating from your body.

He tentatively licked his lips, goosebumps rising as your taste still lingered in his mouth, “Yeah, baby?”

“I still wanna make you come.” You murmured softly, eyes blinking at him so innocently it almost felt wrong that it made his dick twitch at the sight. “I still owe you, after all.”

Chris huffed out a chuckle, lifting himself onto his forearm before hoisting himself above you, settling his hips between your legs as he caged you in with his arms - this was a sight he could get used to.

“Instead of making this out to be you repaying a debt, how about we turn it into a ‘thank you’ gift, hm?” Leaning his head down, he brushed his nose against yours, “You thank me for the ride and the orgasm,” his lips ghosted against your own, “then I thank you for thanking me.”

“Chris, that won’t make any sense,” your voice was barely a whisper, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, “if you thank me, I’ll just thank you back - we’ll be in a loop.”

“We’ll work out the details later, then.” He murmured before leaning forward, catching your lips with his and sharing your taste off of his tongue.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @s00buwu, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @kpopsstuffs, @starquokka, @wolfs-howling, @laylasbunbunny, @4-chan-inpadella, @butterflydemons, @kimahreummm, @ta3baee, @snowy-violet @bethanysnow

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[bi-writes]

i NEED to know how simon would react to his mail order bride getting all pretty one night.... like maybe the night of their wedding... and she's all nervous because she thinks he expects sex and she's so paranoid about offending him or making the wrong noises or just being a nuisance

mail-order bride

simon and mail order bride did not having a wedding; they are married before they meet. have a peek into their first evening together. (18+)

simon laid your suitcase down onto the floor of his bedroom. you look around anxiously, eyeing the bedroom that is supposed to be your own. there's a king-sized bed in the middle of the room, matching dark-wood nightstands on each side. there's one that's clearly being used, a phone charging there and a half-full glass of water.

there's a dresser on the far wall, littered with picture frames and small trinkets, seemingly from other countries. little russian dolls and different fabrics from different places, wooden elephants and small dishes of wonderful patterns. there's a few drawers open there, and when you make your way closer, you can see it's because they're empty. he must've emptied them out for you to use.

there's one picture frame that's face-down. you pick it up to peek at it, and you smile when you look at the picture there. it's simon and a few similarly-looking people. simon is in uniform, face clear of scars. there's an older woman on one side of him, and then on the other side is a little family of three, a sweet couple and a little toddler on the woman's hip. you put it back down facing up before turning back to your suitcase.

you were supposed to just put your pajamas on. simon had been cleaning up the kitchen, and you figure that meant it was time for bed. you rummage through your suitcase, going to reach for your pajamas when you see the little lingerie set you packed.

it still has the tags on it. it's a red pair of lace panties with a matching bra, complete with little crystal bows and lots of detail. you clutch the lace in your hands, looking towards the door. simon doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask you to do something you wouldn't want to do. but you don't know what his expectations might be. you don't know how he intends his wife to behave.

you stand and take the undergarments with you to the bathroom. you change into them, sliding the pieces on and adjusting them until they fit you nicely. you swallow hard as you look in the mirror, smoothing your hands over your body; your tummy, your thighs, over your breasts. you don't know if he'll even like what he sees. you don't know what he expected you to look like, if he got to choose, if he knows what you are underneath and wanted you because of it or in spite of it.

when you come out of the bathroom, simon is rummaging through one of his drawers. when he turns around to face you, he immediately turns back around.

"fuckin' christ--what the fuck are y'doin'?"

you flinch at the bite of his voice. you wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to self-soothe, your eyes tearing immediately as you take in his reaction.

"i..." you stutter. "i...i-i thought--"

"you thought wot?" he snaps, and when he turns around to come closer, you panic, taking the straps in shaking hands and starting to pull them down your arms for him. "no, fuck, stop that--"

he puts his hands over yours before your breasts can spill out of the bra. he narrows his eyes at you, shaking his head, and you start to cry softly.

"s-simon, i'm sorry--i-i thought--"

"shhh," he shushes you. "just...quiet."

your bottom lip trembles as he takes the lace straps of your bra delicately and brings them back up, smoothing them back onto your shoulders. you close your eyes when he cups your cheeks, big thumbs wiping at your face as he soothes you silently.

when simon emerges in the bathroom, he tries to be subtle as he cups himself through his boxers, sighing deeply as he flicks the light on. he jumps a little as he steps back, the cat sitting on the edge of the sink and staring at him knowingly.

simon gives it the finger before shooing it back outside.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Yandere CEO who is serious and strict but becomes a real puppy at the reader's feet, he gives everything the reader wants and kneels before him asking to be able to touch and give pleasure to the reader.

Yandere CEO x male reader imagines~! ૮꒰ྀི ⸝⸝․․⸝⸝ ྀི꒱ა

A/N (I did the Yandere as a sub top and I thought of the Yandere being mid forties while reader being late twenties because I thought it fit best anon!) <33

Just imagining Yandere CEO being a complete heartless man to the world, old and cold as they say. Until he seen your resume running across his desk and if you told him of love at first sight he would scoff at you and kick you out but oh my, when he seen the small picture of you next to your resume he didn’t even care to read it because this man was going to have you. The only words he could think of was “he must’ve been crafted by the gods, I bet Adonis himself spent his life carving those lips” shivers went through him dialing your number trying to get a interview with you.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who hires you at first for your pretty face making you his assistant putting you a desk in his office wanting all eight hours of your days to be spent close as he can get to you, being soft and sweet for you unlike his mean and cold demeanor with the rest of his employees. he’d glance over at you typing something on your computer quietly asking “are you alright? Did you need a break, your hands aren’t sore are they?….i can get you into a nice spa if you’d like. I don’t want my best employee burnt out”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who gets you gifts on the daily nearly pouting if you tell him not to, all he wants is for you to cling to him! He’d beg and plead asking you to let him suck you off whispering in your ear “let me help you out, boy?…I wanna ease you up a bit, you deserve the best so just let me give it to you” he’d mumble getting on his knees and massaging your thighs nice and gentle getting your cock out of your slacks worshipping it nuzzling his face into it peppering your angry tip with wet kisses.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who sends you flowers takes you on fancy trips. Sending you to Rome with him when he goes to sort out business you’re sitting somewhere in a fancy restaurant holding his black card telling you “buy anything you want, I wanna spoil you baby..” and by the time he gets back to your five star hotel room all he asks os for all your affection groaning into your ears holding you by the waist bucking and thrusting his hips up into you from beneath murmuring on and on rambling having you on his cock sending shivers through him “oh you’re so perfect~ pretty little thing~ hng oh fuck moan a little louder you sound angelic like that—“ he’d whimper spilling into you nibbling on your shoulder softly.

Just imagining Yandere CEO who asks you all sweetly if he can have you cock warm him while he manages files, pleading just wanting to please you wanting to have you all sprawled out like a happy cat with his chubby tip pressing and massaging your walls just bullying your prostate while he tugs at your cock like its glass having you orgasming more times than you can count pleasing you like it’s his life’s mission “c’mon baby boy, one more for me? I know you can push it out shhh doin perfect there’s a good boy”

Just imagining Yandere CEO who loves your chest, worshipping them as his holy grail sucking at hurrying his fave in your pretty s/c pecks. Nibbling at your nipples pressing little kisses to your peaks using his hands to massage them while he rotates back and forth making sure each one gets the perfect amount of attention “they are so beautiful sweetheart, god your skin tastes so divine” it was like sex polling with your skin covered in the finest nectar for him driving him insane hazily looking up at you with complete and utter infatuation.

[ultravi0lence14]

My Girl

dean winchester x fem!reader

2.2k | angst, fluff

summary: some people just don’t know when to quit, and when dean notices how uncomfortable you are with a local cop on a case, he can’t seem to hold in his anger.

there was no way this hunt could get any worse.

you, sam, and dean had only been in this small, connecticut town for two days, and everything had already gone to shit. the lead witness was no help, there was barely any evidence, and to top it all off, you had to see him.

max mcmillan, the person you wished to never see again. you knew him in high school, being a friend of a friend and running into him on rare occasions.

max seemed like a nice guy, his only flaw was he always harboured a weird liking towards you. it wasn’t something you’d deem stalkerish, just an observation that you had made over the years.

just your luck he was here now, working as one of the police officers on the case. you had politely smiled at him when you first saw him, but the second he realized who you were it was almost as though that keen liking he had towards you crawled back up.

he would always be around you. getting you coffee, trying to start up a conversation, and being way too close for your comfort. you could tell that dean had noticed this, and he seemed as though he was one more shoulder pat away from blowing a fuse.

dean could tell you were uncomfortable. he knew what you looked like when that chill of unease ran up your spine, and he knew how you were about physical touch.

you were never good with people touching you, even as a young child. if someone even grazed your hand you would unravel into a fit of tears, needing to be alone for the next couple of hours to calm yourself down.

no hugs, handshakes, hand holding, anything. you didn’t have a healthy relationship with physical affection as a child, for both of your parents were not really the perfect candidates for mom and dad of the year. but you lived with it, and dealt with your no physical contact for many years to come.

that was until dean winchester came into your life.

you had met the infamous winchesters when bobby asked them to assist you on a ghoul case two years back, and since then, you three have been inseparable.

from the start you liked dean. he had this charm and whit about him that just reeled you in, wanting to know more. didn’t help that he was absolutely gorgeous on top of it.

the boys almost instantly noticed your distaste for any physical touch. it was sam who saw you flinch when he went to go hug you after a tough case. since then, they have respected your wishes and didn’t bring up the matter unless you did first.

as you and dean got closer, he would constantly catch you reaching out but reeling back at the last minute. he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so he waited until you two officially started dating, making sure you were comfortable with him touching you.

you were, one hundred percent. dean winchester was the only person you’d allow to hug, touch, or even hold your hand. you were slowly warming up to sam, but any other person was completely off limits, and if dean noticed he’d be on their ass in a second.

so as he stood in this police precinct, a watchful eye on max as he leaned over your shoulder, practically breathing down your neck and making you tense immediately, dean wanted to beat into his face until he learned what personal space and boundaries were.

sam had noticed the man’s unwanted attention on you, but he also noticed the fury written on his brothers face and he wanted to defuse the situation as calmly as possible.

while they stood side by side, pretending to listen to some cop ramble on about a traffic cam that wasn’t even in importance to the case, sam angled his head and whispered over to dean. “if you stare at him any longer i think you might explode his head.”

the older winchester just huffed, redirecting his eyes so he can look at sam. “well if he doesn’t back up than i might just have to.” the words came out like a bullet coming out of a gun; followed by dean straining his head so he could keep an eye on your facial expressions.

“she can handle herself, dean. you don’t need to worry about her all the time.” sam was right. you were perfectly capable in handling yourself and dean knew that. he just had a nagging feeling that this guy wasn’t going to back off so easily.

you were on the verge of turning and clocking max in the face. his breath on your skin was making you uncomfortable and he was way too close for comfort.

“the suspect couldn’t have gone far since- Y/N?” you hadn’t even realized you had zoned out, too busy being focused on calming your breathing and not breaking down.

“i’m sorry,” you spoke, taking a step back from max and turning towards the door. “i’ll be back, i just need to get some fresh air.” you didn’t even wait for a response as you sprinted towards the glass double doors, pushing them open and heavily breathing in the cool air.

leaning against the solid brick of the station, you tried to stop a panic attack from coming on. slowing your breathing, calming your thoughts, and taking in the fresh air was helping you get back on track. that was until you heard his nagging voice again.

“there you are Y/N. i think you should come back inside, i think i’ve found something.” max had come and stood so close to you it was like he was trying to mesh the two of you together. you couldn’t take it anymore, taking a giant step back and reeling your hands out in front of you.

“max, i am so sorry but can you please give me some personal space?” he seemed taken aback by your words, halting in all movement he was planning on doing. you realized you could’ve been nicer but this had been going on for two days and you were sick and tired of acting like you were fine.

doing the complete opposite of what you had asked, max started to step closer to you. “what’s wrong, Y/N? did i do something?” it was like what you were saying was going in one ear and out the other, and you couldn’t grasp what the boy wasn’t picking up on

“max, please.” you breathed out, hoping he would understand and leave you alone. but he just came closer, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards his chest.

the air in your lungs escaped. you couldn’t breath and it was almost as if your skin was on fire. you tried to pull away but his grip was far too tight, fighting your attempt to get away from his touch. “cmon, Y/N let’s just go inside. work this out together.” he was dragging you now, attempting to get you to the precinct doors. but the fight you were putting up was straining any further moves he had planned.

feebly trying to push at his chest with your other hand, you felt tears sting your eyes, escaping and falling down your cheeks. “let me go max, please.” you could feel your brain shutting down, the notion of max not listening to a single word you were saying finally setting in.

you could feel your resolve start to slip when suddenly, you heard a faint shout in the distance. a loud “hey!” was heard over your racing heart before max was spun around and knocked to the ground.

dean was holding max up by his collar, fist landing repeated blows on his face. you could see sam and a couple other officers run outside as dean held max up like a rag doll, the latter not even being able to land any punches with how tight dean was holding him.

“get your fucking hands off of her.” dean’s words came out gritted through his teeth, sharp like a knife piercing max’s skin.

you didn’t know what to do. dean was in such a frenzy that trying to pull him away would just be stupid, and you were honestly enjoying watching max get his ass beat.

“dean!” sam yelled, finally reaching his brother and trying to pull him off the struggling man. the older winchester just wouldn’t budge, and it took sam and three other cops to fully detach him from max’s limp body.

you watched as sam attempted to pull dean’s arms behind him, the latter fighting his brother with such intense fervour you truly thought he was going to break free and go for another couple of punches on max’s face.

when sam was able to slightly calm dean down, the older winchester walked to max and got right in his face, staring at the other man with the deadliest look you have possibly ever seen from him. “if you even step one foot towards my girl, i’ll fucking break your legs. got it?” all max could do was slightly nod, slipping in and out of consciousness

the other police officers had gone inside to get medical attention and had now come out to see if max had sustained any proper injuries from dean’s beating. before any of them could even utter a word, dean had walked over to you and gently grabbed your hand, following sam as the younger winchester high tailed it to the impala.

the car ride back to the motel was silent, filled with a tense atmosphere that had you picking at your nails. dean was gripping the steering wheel so tightly, the wounds on his bloodied knuckles were widening more greatly. sam was just staring ahead, not saying a word. if you knew the boy though, you knew that inside he was stewing with a multitude of emotions.

when the impala stopped in front of the motel, you got out and went directly to the room. you noticed sam stop dean, not letting him walk into the room yet. the look on his face was passive, and you knew that sam had an earful waiting for dean to hear. so you just closed the door, listening to sam scold dean through the window.

all you could do was sit on your bed and stare silently at the wall. this is exactly what you would do as a kid, sit in silence trying to calm yourself down. you didn’t even hear the roar of the impala as sam drove off or dean come into the room. you only noticed when a soft, gentle hand was placed on your cheek, making you turn to look dean in the eyes.

“hey, baby, you okay?” all you could do was nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. dean just nodded, slightly brushing some hair out of your eyes as he smiled. “sam just went to grab some dinner. doesn’t look like we’ll be going back to the station tonight.” his sad attempt at a joke made you giggle slightly, warranting an even bigger smile on deans face.

“there she is.” he guided your head so it laid on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle hug. the feeling of your arms wrapping around his middle and squeezing him tightly had dean feeling calm, at ease after all that just happened.

what snapped you out of your comfort was the scene of deans knuckles; stained with blood and marred with cut skin and angry red wounds. you pulled back and studied his hand, allowing yourself to truly see what he’d done.

“oh dean,” you muttered. bringing his hand closer to your face to see how truly bad the cuts were. “we need to clean this up.”

with a reassuring squeeze of your hand, dean got off the bed and stood in front of you. watching as your eyes worriedly followed his frame, waiting to see what he was going to do.

cupping your face once more, dean smiled as he spoke. “don’t worry your pretty little head, sunshine. i’ll patch myself up. i will be right back.” with that he kissed your cheek and made his way to the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him as you moved to get into comfier clothes.

by the time dean was done, you were already in bed. half asleep as you were tired from how fast your brain was moving today. you listened as dean got out of his fbi suit, resorting to just sleeping in his boxers as he moved to get in bed next to you.

your body moved so you could put your head onto dean’s chest, finding comfort in how close the two of you were. his one hand moved to play with your hair as his other went to grab your own hand, bringing your knuckles up to his lips and lightly brushing them across your skin.

the last thing you remember before falling into a deep sleep was the feeling of dean’s hand in your hair and his soft voice soothing all your worries from earlier.

“i’ll always be here for you, sweetheart.”

[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.” 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[thylacines-toybox]

Hey, I found a beanie boo that I liked the design of but I can't stand those giant uguu eyes. Do you think it would be possible to replace them with smaller safety eyes akin to the old beanie babies? If yes, do you have any advice?

I was gonna answer this in a normal way, but then I got curious about trying it for myself and thought I might as well demonstrate!

So, I went and picked up a guy from the supermarket. The selection there was pretty barren today but I found a decent test subject:

Eye replacement procedure below!

(First of all, to my friend who loves beanie boos, I am so sorry for this lmao)

So! First I opened up the closing seam on his back. However, I found an extra mesh barrier inside! Clearly this is to prevent bean escape since this is the most likely seam to accidentally pop open through play. This would be a bit annoying to work around so I just sewed it back up and went in the back of the head instead…

Opened and unstuffed the head…

…And turning it inside out to get to the backs of the eyes. Whoa, these plastic washers are the biggest I’ve ever seen!! Cutting through them will take some work!

Please be very careful of your fingers cutting through these!! Be careful not to cut the fabric around the eye too, but mostly be careful of yourself!

Anyway grrrrrrr attack attack slice slice grrrr

They’re out! With a little glue I think the washers would be able to hold on perfectly well again. I’ll keep these eyes to reuse on something where they’ll be a bit more proportional!

The washers on these eyes are particularly cup shaped, fitting around the back of the eye and holding the fabric tightly against them. Now that the eyes are removed, this has left imprints on the fur!

Plenty of brushing and rumfling will help to fix the creased and flattened areas of fur, and wetting the fur or gently steaming over a hot cup of water should help too. It might take a little time!

(Also, I did make a little cut in the cheek while removing a washer, oops! No worries, that can be stitched up.)

Now we can try on a few new eye styles! Restuff the head for now so you can see how they’ll look.

I have a few sizes of solid black, from teeny dots to absolute tbh creature…

These blue eyes were a little scary… no thanks!

I even have some glittery ones like the original, but smaller! Pretty nice actually!

And even some googly eyes hehehe!

But my favourite eyes were some basic 9mm black ones! They are placed a little funny here, but the position will change a little bit…

The holes left by the original eyes were very big, so a couple of stitches are needed on each one to tighten them up to fit the new eyes. I stitched the top outer corners, to move the holes down and inwards a bit. If you wanted, you could even sew them closed completely and make new eye holes elsewhere!

Unstuff again and pop those new eyes in!

Restuff! You might actually need to add a little extra stuffing, as the fabric not being so pulled around the eyes any more will mean it is a little ‘baggier’.

Then sew the head closed again and that’s about it! The fur is still a little creased around mine, but I’ll keep working at it and it should become less visible.

To add a tiny bit more shape to the big round head, I also did a touch of threadsculpting. I ran a thread from the corner of each eye to below the chin and back, just pulling the eyes in a tad more. You might decide you don’t need this!

And there we go! Hope you’ll try it yourself!