#kinda wish I hadn’t come at all and just stayed behind to watch the cats

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[lilyofthesword-writes]

The Intern (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki takes an interest in the latest of a long line of Stark’s interns.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (Can be read as platonic, if preferred)

Word Count: 2,809

Disclaimers/Warnings: None. Just a bit of fluff.

A/N: This wound up turning into something entirely different from the original concept. Just kinda went with what felt right. Also trying desperately to remember working with an Arduino board to make this at least semi-accurate.

Masterlist

Loki traipsed aimlessly through the Tower, his overly-friendly insomnia having kept him up past four in the morning again. Nothing seemed to help him sleep and he constantly grew bored laying around in his room waiting for exhaustion to overtake him. Wandering about seemed as good as anything. Sometimes he would come across something interesting. It seems now would be that time.

He rounded the corner and found himself gazing through the wall-length windows of Tony Stark’s lab. The armor-less Iron Man was passed out in a chair, head haphazardly lolling on a table. Usually, he was still working and would be until at least seven a.m. before Pepper would literally drag him to bed.

Movement at the other end of the room caught his eye. There you were, pulling a blanket out of the cupboard. You crossed the lab and placed the well-used cloth over Stark’s shoulders before returning to your work. Sliding your safety glasses on, you put all your focus into soldering some wires to a board.

What in the nine realms were you doing here at this hour? The sun hadn’t even reached the horizon yet. None of his previous interns ever started their days before nine. Albeit, they had barely lasted a week while you broke a record at just over a month, but the point still stood. Why were you here?

“Are you just going to stand there like a creeper, Loki, or are you going to come in and hang out?” you called out, not even bothering to tear your eyes away from the wiring.

Well, this excursion could prove to be interesting. Loki slithered through the doorway to stand opposite of you at your table.

“So what are you doing up this early?” you murmured. If it weren’t for you glancing up at him, someone may have thought it was more of a question for yourself.

Loki huffed a laugh. “I could ask you the same question.”

That elicited a quirky smile from you. “Woke up way before my alarm and couldn’t fall back asleep. Figured I’d start my day early.” You gestured toward Stark with the soldering iron. “This one over here is pretty lenient on the hours.”

“I would hope so,” Loki chuckled, “considering his own schedule.”

“A schedule that consists of planned energy drink breaks. Definitely one of the more interesting employers out there.”

“I suppose you could say that,” he mumbled, leaning heavily on his forearms propped on the table.

You set down the soldering iron in its stand and shut if off. “So I answered your question. How about you?”

“I simply could not sleep,” he nonchalantly replied.

“Hmm...” you hummed. “Lemme guess. A member of Insomniacs Anonymous?”

His chuckle reverberated through the room. This was probably one of the reasons Stark kept you around. You certainly had a particular snarky confident air about you.

Yet the corners of your mouth suddenly hung low and your brow scrunched together. “It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

“Pardon?” He was confused at your change in demeanor.

“It’s not as simple as you couldn’t sleep. There’s more to it.”

Loki’s lips parted in astonishment. Here you were in your first true encounter with him and you read him like an open book. What had you been told?

“I won’t make you say anything.” You held your hands up in a placating manner. “You probably don’t want to, and that’s okay. However.” You grabbed the notepad next to you and scribbled something on it, ripping off the paper and sliding it towards him. “If you’re ever bored and I’m not here, you can text me. I’ll probably answer.”

He reluctantly took the note that had your number written on it. “I cannot say I am very adept with these cellular devices.”

“Pretty sure you’re clever enough to figure it out,” you grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “But seriously, no pressure. The offer is always out there.”

“Wha?!” Stark snorted himself awake, his eyes shooting around wildly. “Rudolf? What’re you doing here?” He eyed Loki suspiciously. “You’re not going to scare away my intern, are you? That’s my job.”

You laughed, keeping Loki from spitting a venomous retort. “Good luck with that. You’ll have to try a lot harder if that’s what you’re going for, Stark.”

“Obviously. You haven’t run off yet. I’m surprised.” He took the blanket that was wrapped around him and began folding it. “Pleasantly surprised.”

“Sure, sure!” You waved him off.

Stark looked at his watch and swiped a hand through his purposely messy bed head. “It’s that time already. I better get breakfast before Pepper finds me... Alright!” He clapped. “Both of you, let’s go! Time for grub!”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up across his forehead. Was Stark actually having him join the two of you for breakfast?

“Yes, you too, Reindeer Games! One, I don’t want you in the lab alone.” That earned him Loki’s scowl. “Two, you seem to be behaving, so why not have you eat with us.”

You nudged Stark’s arm while shooting Loki an inconspicuous wink. “Awww, look at you! Already getting into Dad Mode and little Morgan hasn’t even entered the world yet.”

He nudged you back. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now come on. I’m starving!”

You continued to tease him as you followed him out of the lab with Loki close behind.

Loki lay in bed a few nights later, lost in thought. He could not get you out of his head. You had spoken with him like you would anyone else, deflected and stood up for him despite hardly knowing him. In the few years since he had been thrown to Midgard as punishment, Thor was the only one to show him a sliver of kindness, but even he held some hesitation. You did not. Your earlier interaction was genuine. He wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

In his perpetual deliberation, he had avoided the lab since that morning. Not that he didn’t like you. It was the uncertainty that kept him away, but that wouldn’t last much longer.

His phone settled lax in his hand, your name illuminating the screen. You had been right about him being able to learn how to text. Now it was a matter of completing the action. Tossing the phone to his other hand, he glared at the bright screen. His message had already been written. All he had to do was select “Send”. The clock at the top of the screen read two a.m. Surely, you would be asleep... But what if you weren’t?

With a huff, he pinched his eyes shut and hit the button, the swooshing sound seemingly echoing off the walls. The following silence was deafening. Luckily for him, the reply swoosh fell inline shortly after.

You: Hey, Loki. Can’t sleep?

Loki: How did you know who this was without me saying?

You: I can’t think of anyone else who would text me at this hour. ;)

Loki: I apologize if I woke you.

You: Nah. Already up. Trouble staying asleep. So what’re you up to?

Loki: Texting you.

You: Other than that, Mischief

Loki: Thinking.

You: Yeah? About what?

Loki: Possibly meandering through the Tower, again.

You: Liar ;)

Loki: Pardon?

You: You were obviously thinking about me.

Loki: What makes you say that?

You: You had to be. At least in the context that it would be better to text me than exploring.

Loki: Fair enough. Now, how do you know I am not planning to choose both?

You: You got me there.

—

Loki met you at the lab later that morning. The familiar sight of Stark was passed out, snuggling his face to a countertop, greeted you both.

Shaking your head, you huffed a laugh as you passed through the doorway. “Can’t really reprimand him when my sleep schedule is just as bad.”

Loki’s lips curled into a light smirk but didn’t speak a word lest Stark awaken and force him to leave. Despite your two hour texting session, he had been looking forward to joining you here.

“Thanks for meeting me here, by the way,” you called out to him as still stood just at the edge of the lab. “A little company while working is kind of nice. Gets too quiet when Stark finally shuts down.”

Taking a seat across from you, Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Would that not be considered a blessing?”

You stifled a chuckle as you flipped on the soldering iron and pulled out what roughly looked like a vambrace. The board you had been working on previously was molded to the shape. “If that happened by the end of my workday, yes. This early in the morning? Not so much. It’s boring if not a little eerie.”

“I see... So I am only here for your entertainment,” he feigned offense.

You gasped dramatically, “Me? Never!”

Laughing with you, Loki made himself a bit more comfortable as he watched you work. At the moment, you were adding tiny capacitors and securing them into place.

“If I may, what are you trying to accomplish?”

“Well,” you started, glancing up at him. “It’s a new piece of armor. Other than that, I technically shouldn’t say much else.”

“Right... Classified information?”

There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes as you looked at him again. “It is a secret, but nothing quite as official as that.”

Loki leaned across the tabletop, supporting his chin in his hand. “So there is no harm in you revealing your project,” he tested.

“Harm? No. However, there will be disappointment on my end if you figure it out.”

“I accept this challenge,” he grinned playfully.

You smirked back,“As you wish, Mischief. I won’t make this easy for you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Darling.”

The next several weeks chaotically blurred together. At first, you allowed Loki to observe your project as you worked on it. Once the vambrace began to take on a more unique form, you were hiding it in the mornings, opting to take on a different assignment when he was in the room. The design was strikingly Asgardian, leading him to believe the new armor was for Thor. He just needed to figure out what it did. He spoke with his brother on multiple occasions but was unable to glean anything from him. Either he had no clue or suddenly learned to lie well enough to fool Loki, the latter highly doubtful.

Apart from politely harassing you via text, Loki took to locating your hiding spots, something that proved difficult when the lab was almost always occupied by you, Stark or Banner at varying times. Stark was helping you keep this little secret, a sparkle in his eyes whenever he shooed Loki from the room when he was caught investigating. Even Banner was in on it, albeit reluctantly.

Then there was that Doctor Strange who was showing up every few days, joining you all in the lab much to Loki’s chagrin. By that point, Stark had banned him from the entire floor. The project must have been coming to a close if you all were trying to cover it up so desperately. But why Strange? Was he imbuing the vambrace with magic to protect Thor better? (Not that he really needed it.) His curiosity was certainly getting the better of him, going so far as to shape-shift as one of you three when Strange wasn’t around to get into the room. Somehow, Friday always knew and alerted the lab’s occupants who would send him back to the elevator.

It was early one morning as he was perusing the contents of the shared kitchen that you initiated contact with him. He was surprised since he had been the one to text you first lately to see if you would spill your secret.

You: Hey. Can you stop by the lab?

Loki: Oh? I thought I was banned.

You: Lifted as of a few minutes ago. So?

Loki: I suppose I might be able to grace you with my presence.

You: So kind of you, my King ;)

His heart skipped a beat at you calling him “your King”. You only used it in a teasing fashion when he was acting high and mighty. Even then, it still flustered him.

Loki made his way to the elevator, deeming it a bit devious to take the long way to the lab. You had made him wait all this time. It was your turn.

The doors reopened on the lab floor, revealing that his ploy to annoy had worked. You were leaned against the wall next to the elevator, waiting for his arrival.

“Finally! Come on!”

You audaciously grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the room with an impatient grin. Stopping him near your normal workstation, you demanded he close his eyes.

“Excuse me?” he responded incredulously, ripping his arm from your grasp.

“Please, Loki...” Your pleading eyes grew larger as you pouted at him.

Stark groaned, “Just do it, Reindeer Games, or I’ll cover them for you.”

Loki’s lips reared into a snarl as he glared at the billionaire before relenting and clenching his eyelids shut. Norns, how he hated those nicknames.

“Okay!” Excitement laced your voice. “Would you hold up your dominant hand?”

“Making more demands, Darling?”

“I did ask nicely this time.”

“That you did,” he chuckled a complied, holding out a hand.

“Perfect!”

He felt a metallic weight placed on his forearm before it was clasped together with a comfortable tightness.

“Okay. You can look now!”

The sight of the vambrace on his arm left Loki’s mouth agape. The main black of the piece was lined with gold Asgardian knot designs with runes placed in a handful of the empty spaces. Near his wrist, an artificial emerald was embedded in the armor. If he had to be completely honest, the aesthetics could rival much of the armor back home.

“Well, Kid. It looks like you rendered him speechless.” Stark nudged your arm.

Loki’s gaze shot up to the two of you. Stark was leaning against the workstation while you had hoisted yourself to sit atop it, nothing but grins on either of your faces.

“What is this-”

You cut him off, “It’s for you. We noticed after some of your missions where you had to use your seiðr more than usual, you’d end up exhausted before getting back to the Quinjet. The new armor should help with that. It’s supposed to amplify your magic without draining you.”

Stark shoved you lightheartedly, again. “The kid noticed. Told ‘em if they could come up with something that could work, I’d give whatever resources needed for the project.”

“So what do you think? I mean we still need to undergo more testing and calibrations before you can use it in the field, but-”

“You made this?” Loki locked barely tearing eyes with you. “For me?”

“Yup! Kid designed the whole thing!” Stark kept you from answering. “Minus the bits we had to bring Strange in for the wizard-y things, this was a solo run. Did a pretty good job. Not sure I could have done much better.”

“Stark...” you grumbled, clearly not used to the praise.

“This is...” Loki tore his gaze away back to the vambrace. “I don’t... I don’t know what to say.” His voice was just loud enough for you to hear.

“A ‘thank you’ would be a good start. Now maybe this little intern will get more sleep,” Stark blundered before checking his watch. “Well, it’s about time for my morning scolding. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me!”

With that he whisked himself out of the room and to the elevator, leaving you and Loki in a terribly awkward silence.

“Hey...” you started. “If you don’t like it, we can scrap the design. It’s not a big deal-”

“Thank you.” His pupils were filled with a sincere gratefulness that few had ever seen before. “This is... This is simply splendid.”

“Really? You’re not just saying that?”

Loki spun on his heel to fully face you, his hands coming to rest on the countertop on either side of you. “I mean it, Darling. This... No one has ever done something like this for me before. I would be honored to be your test subject,” he ended with a smirk.

“Well, if that’s the case,” you grinned right back at him, “I’d say let’s get some breakfast first. There will be plenty of time to optimize the vambrace later.”

Pulling back enough to release you from his cage of arms, he gestured for you to lead the way. “After you,” he breathed.

Hopping down from the table, you held out a hand for him. Hesitantly, Loki took it while running a thumb over your knuckles as you pulled him to the elevator with you.

[emilyshotchniss]

What, Are You Like In Love With Me Or Something?

Summary: After crushing on each other for years, you and Emily finally pull your shit together:)

Pairing : Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

Warnings: Minimal swearing

Word Count : 1675

4:27am. Are you fucking kidding me.

You reluctantly rolled out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom, turning the shower on. You love your job, but getting called in at four in the morning was a fucking pain in the ass. After standing under the hot water for a considerable length of time, you got out and chose your outfit. Once you were ready, you repacked your go bag, and dropped your cat Willow off at your neighbours apartment, before heading to the office.

When you arrived, it was 5:02am, and you were pretty sure that in your current mood, if you didn't get some coffee soon, you were going to go full on unsub on someone. That mood was suddenly lifted as soon as you entered the bullpen - you ducked out of view and watched as your best friend Emily walked silently through the nearly empty office, and placed a mug of coffee on your desk. She gently sat it on your favourite coaster, then tiptoed back over to her desk, grabbing a small bag and sitting it next to the mug on your desk. She adjusted everything until it was the way she wanted it, and smiled to herself before sitting back at her desk. You also smiled to yourself, before walking in fully, pretending you didn't just spend three minutes hidden behind a wall watching her.

"Morning, Em!" You smiled.

"Oh hey!" She replied, clearly trying to act chill as if she hadn't just spent five minutes fixing you breakfast.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the small bag she left you.

"Oh, uh, I, I picked you up a croissant from the Starbucks downtown on my way in," She said, smiling sheepishly.

Your heart nearly burst, and you felt an overwhelming rush of butterflies in your stomach. The gesture was lovely, but wasn't helping you get over the huge crush you'd been harbouring for a while now. You pushed your feelings into a tiny little box in the back of your mind, because there was no way she felt the same - she was just being a good friend.

"Thank you," You smiled, before taking a bite of the croissant. "For this, and the coffee. Lunch is on me,"

She smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice how her eyes lingered a little longer than they were supposed to. Your "moment" was interrupted by Morgan and Garcia barging through the doors, shortly followed by JJ, Rossi and Reid, prompting Hotch to call you all into the conference room. You took a quick sip of your coffee and one last mouthful of your croissant, before following the team upstairs.

***************************************

It was around 1:49pm when you walked back into the local PD, carrying two bags. You opened each door with your foot, and made your way to the conference room, finding Emily sitting alone with a file. The rest of the team were still away getting lunch.

"Hey, aren't you getting hungry?" You asked her.

"Uh, I'm fine, I'm nearly done with this-" She stopped rambling when she saw the bags of food. "You shouldn't have,"

"I told you, lunch was on me today. That coffee and croissant saved me from murdering someone this morning. I owe you," You said, earning a laugh from Emily. You felt a blush creep up your neck and across your cheeks, and you could've sworn you saw Emily's cheeks turn a faint pink - but it was probably nothing.

"What did you get?" She asked, as you continued to unpack.

"An italian BMT for the lady," You said, handing her her sandwich. "And a roast chicken sub for myself."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She said between mouthfuls.

You felt that same rush of heat in your cheeks again, and immediately got up to put the empty bags in the trash in a desperate attempt to hide your face.

"Seriously... thank you. I really needed this today..." She said, trailing off into a whisper almost. Her face had changed, and you could sense something was bothering her.

"Em, you okay?" You asked, concern lacing your tone.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I'm good..." She lied.

"Don't lie to me. What's going on?" You said, matching your tone with hers.

"This doesn't leave this room-" She warned, your nerves making an appearance.

"This case- it, it's getting to me more than I care to admit..." She began shakily.

"In what way?" You asked.

"Regina- she said something to me, and it's kinda sticking with me," Emily said, taking a deep breath. You've known her long enough to know that that's her tell.

"She said that I have no idea what it's like when the monster from your nightmares comes back for you - that mine is dead, yet she still has to live with hers... it's stupid I know-" You cut her off.

"It's not stupid Emily. You went through a massive trauma, nobody expects you to magically be okay now that he's dead. You're still processing everything - that takes time, and we're all here to support you through it - I'm here to support you through it..." You told her, making sure she heard exactly what you were saying.

She let go of that breath, feeling a little calmer. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't my best friend..." She laughed nervously. Friend. That stung way more than it should've - but you put these feelings away in that little box at the back of your mind, attempting to compartmentalise it all.

"Seriously - thank you," She told you, grabbing your hand briefly, before getting up to put her napkins and stuff in the trash. Just at that, the rest of the team piled back into the station, ready to tie up the loose ends of the case before flying back that evening. You shook your head, laughing at your stupidity for falling for your best friend, before joining the rest of the team.

***********************

Back at Quantico, the team dragged themselves into the office to finish reports and grab their stuff before heading home for the night. Before you knew it, you looked up from your desk to find that most of the team had left, you Emily and Hotch being the only three remaining. You checked your watch, and decided that the reports could be finished in the morning. Throwing on your coat, you turned to look at Emily, still working away.

"Hey Em, we can finish those tomorrow, come on," You told her. She looked up at you anxiously, before reluctantly closing the file and grabbing her things. You both walked in silence to the elevator, but you could feel her eyes burning into your skull as you waited. After the silence had become just a little too uncomfortable, you turned to meet her, as she quickly diverted her gaze.

"What..." You asked with a smile.

"No, nothing- its nothing." She replied.

"You were staring at me- what, are you like in love with me or something?" You joked, not thinking anything of it - then your stomach suddenly dropped as her face turned a deep red - it was clear you'd correctly guessed her thoughts.

"Em-" You said, barely above a whisper. "Is that true?"

"I- uh- I um..." She began, her face turning a deeper red with each stutter.

"Emily look at me-" You told her, grabbing her wrists. She met your gaze, her eyes glassy.

"I love you too... I always have," You trembled, a single tear rolling down her face now.

"You have?" She cried ever so softly, her vulnerability catching you by surprise.

"Always... I- I never knew it was mutual," You smiled.

"I- I was going to tell you, but-"

"But then everything went to shit," You said, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah," She chuckled, sniffing back tears.

The elevator doors slid open and you squeezed in, taking her hand in yours as they closed behind you.

"Have you been sleeping?" You asked, not turning to face her, already knowing the answer.

"No..." She replied, barely loud enough to her - she was ashamed of being traumatised. You squeezed her hand tighter, before turning to face her.

"Come stay at my place tonight- we'll watch a movie, have hot chocolate, and maybe then you might be able to rest." You offered.

"Okay.." She smiled. "Thank you."

"Not necessary." You told her, interlacing your fingers with hers.

******************

As soon as you got home, you kicked off your shoes and headed straight to your bedroom, grabbing clothes for both yourself and Emily. After you both got comfy, you made two rather large mugs of hot chocolate, finishing them quicker than either of you would care to admit.

"Hey it's late, you coming?" You asked Emily, nodding towards your bedroom.

"Sure," She smiled, letting you lead the way. You pulled back the covers, letting Em slide in first as you followed. Lying in the darkness, your arms wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to you. As she met your eyes, no words had to be spoken- you leaned in to give her a gentle kiss that said everything you wanted to say, her returning it with equal passion. She stroked your cheekbone with her thumb, before speaking up.

"I love you - I wish I'd told you sooner." She whispered.

"I do too - but we're here now - that's all that matters." You replied.

She hummed in response, before tucking her head into your shoulder. You drew tiny shapes on her back until you heard soft snores coming from underneath your ear. It was in that moment that you realised you'd never felt love like this before - a love that consumed you. You kissed her forehead before succumbing to the slumber along with her, wondering just how you got so lucky.

[skellebonez]

Could you do number 46. They have amnesia? With Monkie King and MK If you’re still doing the request/prompts

You didn't say who had to have amnesia, anon. Spoilers for episodes up to S2E6 inside.

They have amnesia?

"How is this even possible?" MK asked softly, not wanting to be heard but knowing that Wukong’s superior hearing would pick up most of what he was saying. Though given how distracted he was...

"It shouldn't be!" Tang exclaimed equally as quiet, watching his hero with a mix of curiosity and dismay. "He's the Monkey King, nothing should be able to hurt him like this."

"Maybe he wasn't hurt," Mei offered, watching Wukong herself as Pigsy held up another photograph and only recieved a confused look in response. "Maybe it's magic. He can be affected by magic that isn't directly hurting him, right? Even if it takes something big to hurt him physically a spell or curse could still something."

"That is a possibility..." Tang muttered under his breathe. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing as Pigsy seemed to exhaust photographs and illustrations to show the Monkey King. Sandy stood beside them both, Mo curled up in Wukong’s arms instead of his usual place on the big guy's shoulder, and said something in hushed tones that made the Monkey King's ears pull back. "There are no shortages of either that could cause memory loss, hopefully for us temporarily so. And he didn't seem injured in any way when we found him outside the shop... though he shouldn't even be here, he was on vacation! Wouldn't he have told you he was coming back?"

"Maybe..." MK started slowly, watching as Pigsy held up a group of photos and Wukong pointed to one of them excitedly. "But he's been acting... weird since he left anyway. Like he was distracted. I kinda just tried not to worry about it but..." He trailed off, jumping as a loud snap was heard and then wishing he had the staff out in his hands to wrap them around it instead of the mop he just snapped in two. "... crap..."

"You're worried," Mei said softly, laying her hand on her best friend's shoulder. "I am too, even though I may not know the Monkey King that well. But once we find out exactly how much he remembers we can find a way to help him."

"Yeah, about that," Pigsy's voice broke through their conversation as he made his way over. The chef looked perturbed. "So we went through all your pictures MK. He remembers going on the journey, though the details of it are lost, and he knows Mount Huaguo like the back of his hand. But he doesn't remember like 99% of the journey, can't remember any of his monkeys, can't remember us, can't even remember that he's the Monkey King or what that title means." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his snout for a second before continuing. "What he does remember clearly is that he lives alone on an island and that it's the modern day, he went on some big journey he barely recalls... and that he knows MK and that MK is important."

"What?" MK looked away from where he had glanced over to Wukong, staring at Pigsy in disbelief. "Wait, you're telling me I'm the only person he remembers!?"

"Barely!" Pigsy elaborated with another sigh. "Kid, whatever happened to him really messed up his memories. He knows your name and face and that you're important. He kind of remembers training you. But that is it. He doesn't recognize anyone else. And I don't know him that good, but he doesn't seem to be acting like his normal self either."

This was bad. There was no other way to put it. And they needed to figure something out fast.

"MK?" Wukong said suddenly, having wandered up to the group. He still had Mo in his arms, the cat looking up at him in concern. "Is everything alright, Bud?"

It most certainly was not.

~

"This is my house?" Wukong asked softly, one of the first things he had said since MK and he had arrived back on Mount Huaguo. Getting him home was easy enough, one of the few things he remembered was where he lived after all, but he seemed confused regardless. Perhaps he didn't remember the mountain as much as Pigsy thought he did. "It's... cozy!" He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "When your boss told me I was a king I kind of worried that... well, I don't know why, I was just worried for some reason. Weird."

Weird didn't even begin to cover it.

Pigsy wasn't lying when he said that Wukong hadn't been acting like his normal self. Instead of the loud and boisterous and kind of, admittedly, self important Monkey King MK expected, Wukong was oddly subdued. Maybe it was the amnesia making him weary, but he was acting so much like he had for just the shortest moments at the Lunar New Year festival (both before the fireworks had cheered him up and after the fight with the Spider Queen) that MK was starting to wonder...

"I really do live alone except for my monkeys, huh?" Wukong said softly, one of the aforementioned monkeys looking at him in their own concern.

When he saw them face to face he seemed to recall at least a bit. That he cared for them in some capacity both as an actual caregiver and as "I guess a King is right" as Wukong put it. But while he knew each one on the island by name before he couldn't recall a single one now. But MK remembered that the little one that followed them inside was called Yue, partly because he had been the one to help name her.

Knowing that Wukong likely didn't remember that day, let alone how important it had been to him to include his student in this endeavor, made MK's chest hurt.

"Yeah, it's, uh... yeah," MK attempted to confirm, coming off as awkward as he felt internally. Everything about this was awkward. But MK could not, and would not, leave his mentor while he could only barely recall how to navigate his own home island. "So... we didn't exactly get that much to eat at Pigsy's... you hungry?"

~

The two ate in moderate silence. MK didn't want to force Wukong to feel awkward by asking him about topics he couldn't remember (the last few confused and then apologetic smiles made him feel too bad to try again). He managed to find something, at least, however small it was.

Wukong seemed to remember little bits and pieces about himself. Not everything, obviously, but he remembered some important things. He knew he was immortal and invincible. He knew that he was very very old. He knew he was technically not a regular demon monkey but a stone monkey born out of a... well, a stone. And he remembered his dietary preferences.

This last one was news to MK, who had never actually seen him eat more than peaches and peach chips and food made from his own hair (which was not something he was looking forward to trying again). But it made fashioning something for them to eat easier. Something simple, rice for both of them with fresh peaches (he had so many of these things in his fridge and MK did not know how they lasted without spoiling, but he did not ask) for his mentor and rice with some tofu and green onions for MK (simple, but with seasoning and sauce that for some reason had his own initials on it tasty, he had to remember to ask about that... after).

It was... kind of nice, the situation aside.

"... am I your... absentee dad?"

And there that went right out the window and right into the volcanic inferno of the flaming mountains!

MK nearly choked on his rice, barely managing to chug a glass of water before managing out a "HWUH?" in his mentor's direction.

"I-I'm sorry!" Wukong stuttered out, the uncertainty in his voice sounding wrong. "I just... I thought... there's stuff in here with your name on it but there isn't a place for you to stay, the second room is just storage, so I thought..." He trailed off, biting his lip before sighing. "You told me you were my student. But that... it's doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel wrong but it feels... sorry."

Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, MK steeled himself.

"No, don't apologize," he started, setting his bowl to the side and staying quiet for a moment. "No, you're not... my dad. But I noticed those things too. I've never really been inside your house all that much, only a couple times before you left and only twice since. You don't..." He paused, trying to find the right words to express himself. "I guess I'm just realizing there's a lot of things you don't tell me."

"... it'd be kind of awkward if I just ruined some kind of big thing I was gonna tell you when I got back," Wukong said through another bite of a peach.

"Yeah, I doubt you were gonna tell me you'e adopting me," MK laughed out awkwardly... but that awkwardness lingered long after the conversation moved on to how much of the stuff in the house he remembered.

~

MK woke up in a sleeping bag in a room that didn't belong to him. He was confused at first, sitting up quickly and looking around before realizing that he was just in Wukong's house. On the floor of Wukong's bedroom, actually. The Monkey King had insisted that he could not sleep on the couch, comfortable as it looked, and they looked around in his storage room for any alternative until they found this.

It was comfortable enough. But not so comfortable he slept through what had woken him.

It sounded like crying.

Not loud, not enough to wake most people. But MK was already highly stressed from the situation and had developed much better hearing since obtaining the Monkey King Powers (how he had thought he needed to learn super hearing that one time he did not know now that he thought about it). So he picked up on the soft sniffs and whimpers and shakey breathes and now he would not be going back to sleep until he figured out what was up.

"Monkey King? You sure there isn-" MK froze as he turned to his mentor's bed, only to find it empty.

Well. Shit...

That probably answered that question.

MK wasted no time in jumping to his feet rushing out of the room and toward the crying before freezing in the door way to he living room.

Monkey King was sitting on the floor, TV on and VR set still strapped to his head.

"Oh... no..." MK muttered softly, making his way inside to stand behind Wukong. "Hey... Monkey King? What are you doing?"

Wukong flinched, he'd never seen him do that before, and gripped his controller tighter. He heard it creak worryingly under his grip.

"I... I saw this game earlier," he started slowly, and MK didn't need him to explain which one it was. The case, familiar to him now, was sitting in plain sight on the floor before them. "I dunno, it just... it felt important. And I couldn't sleep so I decided to go through some more of my stuff and... and..." He took in a shakey breathe, putting the controller down and taking the VR headset off. "I... it was weird looking at myself. Listening to myself tell me what do to. But it felt familar. So I kept playing and..."

MK put a hand on his mentor's shoulder and looked at the screen. He'd made it to the in game store, the temple. There Tripitaka, Tang Sanzang, resided to give the player passive abilities. "How long have you been playing?"

"An hour maybe?" Wukong offered, wiping the tears from his face. "I made it to Zhu Ganglie but I. I couldn't. I didn't want to... MK, I feel like I should remember these people. I can't look at them without feeling... sad. Guilty? I can't help but feel like I did something wrong to them?"

And MK's chest hurt once again, knowing that somewhere deep down in Wukong he hadn't completely forgotten his companions from his journey centuries ago. He should have pieced it together when he played. The art, the dialogue, the placement of the monk... he'd never seen the game on store shelves before either, never even heard of it.

But Sun Wukong had played this game for 10,000 hours.

"They're, uh... They're the people who were on your journey with you," MK started as he sat on the floor by his mentor. "You haven't gotten to Sha Wujing, but he's there too. So was Bai Long Ma. I could... tell you about them? I don't know all the stories by heart like Tang does, but I can try."

"You don't have to do that," Wukong said much more assuredly and firm than before. "If I did something that made me feel like this that should be my own burden to bear, not yours."

"Yeah... but I want to help you anyway."

The two sat in silence for a moment before Wukong stood and made his way into the kitchen. He returned a moment later with a small bowl of peaches and a wrapped pack of pears (once again with MK's initials on it). He sat on the couch, gesturing for his student to join him before he spoke.

"I appreciate the offer, I do... but I'll be able to learn that on my own before my memories return," Wukong said, biting into one of his peaches with a sad smile. "You said Tang, the guy from the noodle shop, knows them. I can ask him tomorrow... well, later today. But as I said before, that isn't your burden to bear. And I don't want to put that on you. And even though I remember you the most out of everything it feels like I don't know you as much as I should. So, if neither of us is going to sleep again any time soon... tell me about MK?"

"... When I moved into the apartment above Pigsy’s I took on MK as a nickname."

Wukong looked up in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened and he put all his focus on his student with a soft smile. "OK..."

The two talked for only roughly another hour, Sun Wukong listening to MK tell him anything he felt comfortable telling him. When he woke up he was back in the sleeping bag, the soft snores of the Monkey King resounding above him.

As he laid awake, the small monkey Yue having made her way inside to sleep on his chest making a good excuse to not get up, he wanted to mull over everything he had learned. He'd learned more about his mentor in the 6 waking hours they spent together in his home than he had his entire apprenticeship, and the same went the other way.

MK wondered just why Sun Wukong hid all this from him so far. For so long. And he knew now he couldn't have possibly been on vacation. Not when it resulted in this. The Monkey King had been hiding so much from him and it clearly wasn't limited to what he was doing behind his back.

But right now Sun Wukong trusted MK, him coming back with him to Mount Huaguo was evidence enough of that. And MK trusted him as he was now... but didn't know how much of Sun Wukong from the past to trust anymore. He needed to get his mentor's memories back. And he needed to get answers.

Sun Wukong slept on, oblivious to the conflict in his student's head.

[yikesharringrove]

Egg the Cat

Chapter 3

Read on Ao3

-

Billy had to double-check to make sure he hadn't accidentally followed someone else home from the party.

Because Steve lived in a fucking mansion.

“Jesus Christ .” Billy stared at the house. “You didn’t tell me you’re fucking royalty .” Steve rolled his eyes, leading Billy towards the house.

“Can it. You got the booze?” Billy shook the bottle at him.

Steve looked better. Like maybe he had gotten a bit of a handle on himself.

Billy followed him into the pool of light cast over the porch, the unmistakable scream of a very excited cat sounding from inside.

Steve pushed open the door, bending immediately to scoop up his purring cat, holding her close to him as he went inside.

Billy gave a low whistle as he took off his boots, lining them neatly next to Steve’s shoes.

Steve just climbed the stairs, assumed Billy was following.

Steve’s bedroom was nice enough.

Felt as impersonal as the rest of the gaudy house, but there was a cat tree by the window, and a cat bed Egg ignored in favor of curling up on Steve’s lap as he settled in bed, sitting up against the headboard.

Billy didn’t know what to do with himself.

Last time he was in another boy’s bedroom, very different things were happening.

But then Steve gave him an odd look, eyes flicking to the spot next to himself, and Billy took that as his cue.

“I can’t drink a lot. Gotta be home in three hours.” His dad had a very clear rule about curfew: You miss it, don’t bother coming home.

“This is for me, anyway.” Steve gave him the weakest smile Billy’s ever seen, taking the bottle from Billy’s hand, and taking a long pull.

He grimaced at the taste, gasping for breath.

“That’s fucking rank .”

“Not used to cheap liquor?” Steve swatted at his arm, but took one more pull before passing the bottle to Billy.

Egg was still settled in his lap, and Steve ran long fingers through her dark fur.

“She can always tell when I’m feeling bad. Gets extra snuggly.”

“More snuggly than at the diner?”

“Nah, that was the more. She could tell I had been freaking out looking for her.” Her ear twitched and her tail swished, like she knew they were talking about her. “She’s the smartest cat in the world, I think.” He was quiet for a few moments as Billy took a drink from the bottle. “Took better care ‘a me than Nancy ever did. That’s for damn sure.”

“Sucks that she dumped you like that. All drunk and shit.”

“Isn’t there an expression? Drunk words are sober thoughts? Wish she had gotten drunk a year ago. Woulda saved me a lot of fucking trouble.” Egg perked up, standing to pace on Steve’s lap, curling up again, her chin resting on his tummy. “See? Has a fuckin’ sixth sense for when I’m upset.” She purred, her eyes closing as Steve scratched between her ears, down her back.

“How long have you had her?”

“Like five years? Someone was just, giving her away. Said he didn’t need bad omens, or whatever. ‘Cause she’s a black cat. I think that’s fuckin stupid. She’s brought me nothing but good.” Egg purred again, blinking slowly at Steve, nipping playfully at his fingers.

She really was cute.

Billy had never been much of a cat person, always favored dogs a bit more.

But Egg was so human, the way she tracked their conversation, like she could understand it.

“Man, don’t laugh.” Steve took the bottle from Billy, taking another long pull, shuddering halfway through. “I’m already feelin’ this. Haven’t drunk in so long .”

“Pussy.” Steve huffed a laugh, Egg meowed as his stomach shifted, jostling her head. He let the silence sit for a moment, just watched Steve’s fingers stroke through thick dark fur.

“So, uh, are you like, friends with Tommy?” Steve’s voice was way too measured, his tone far too light and casual.

“Who?”

“Tommy. The guy that was parading you around all night.”

“Oh, uh Karate Kid, guy?”

“Yeah.”

“No. He just kinda started talking at me, told me to do a keg stand. Said the guy that still held the record was a poser.” Steve outright laughed at that.

“Yeah, you broke my record tonight. I’m the poser.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

Billy turned to look at Steve, found him smiling this stupid fond smile at the cat on his lap. The room was dim, only one lamp clicked on, throwing a warm glow around the room.

“Can I ask you what happened? You said you used to be hot shit.”

“Nancy.” Steve’s smile evaporated like a flash. “I used to be a real douchebag. Ruled that fucking school. I mean, it’s not like I liked myself. I could definitely be called a bully, like, which sucks. But, you know. I had friends. I was popular. All that.”

“But she didn’t like that.”

“Nope.” Steve made sure to pop the ‘p’. “It’s not like she blatantly said that, but I could tell. I think that, I think that the changes have been good, like I’m nicer to people now. But I kinda cut off all my friends. Just hang out with her most of the time. And now-” Steve trailed off, taking another swig of shitty tequila. “Guess it’s just me and Eggy.”

“You say that like I’m not sitting right here.” Steve smiled at him, a real one, not the tight ones he’s been using all night.

“You hang out with me, you’re gonna be a fucking laughing stock, new kid.”

“Oh, come on. Have you seen me? I could literally never be a laughing stock. If anything, I'll make you cool again.” Steve just hmmmn ed at Billy, his eyes going a little far away.

“I don’t know if I really, really care about that anymore, if I’m being honest.” He swallowed thickly. “Some major shit went down last year. Like, more than Nancy shit. Kinda put things in perspective, I guess.” Egg had sat up, kneading at Steve’s stomach, making a noise like a little cat alarm.

Egg was so in tune with Steve it was utterly fucking ridiculous. They must be wired directly into one another’s brains.

“What kinda major shit?” Steve was quiet. Egg began walking up him, stepping softly until she settled on his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder, little pink nose tucked into his neck.

“Just like, major shit. Like, like people died kinda major.”

“Damn.”

“Like, I legally can’t talk about it kinda major.” Egg sniffed in his neck.

“What, you get mixed up in some kinda lawsuit or some shit?” Steve just sighed.

“Man, I just said I legally can’t say anything.” But he had a ghost of a smile on his face when he turned to look at Billy. “Can I ask you something?”

“Free country.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Why Hawkins ?”

“You asked me that like, three times yesterday.”

“And you never answered.”

“I said my dad remarried and wanted a-”

“Fresh start, yeah. But you could move one town over and have that. You could stay in the same damn state and do that. Why Hawkins ?”

There was something more behind Steve’s voice, something strained.

Billy just looked back up at the ceiling.

He had to take a breath, talking himself out of actually telling Steve. Telling him how Neil wanted him out of California, where gay bars were only a short drive away. Where Billy could cruise the piers, where a carefully toned you goin’ my way? could lead to a sloppy blowjob in the car.

Hawkins wasn’t necessarily specific, but Neil had wanted a small, God-fearing town. One where he would know if Billy got up to anything unsavory.

“He found a job here,” he said lamely.

Everything in him was screaming to trust Steve. To tell him the truth. Which was just a fuck of a lot. Billy doesn't trust people. He just does not.

He blames Steve.

Blames those soft brown eyes.

“Well, that’s thrilling .” Billy rolled his eyes, smiling a little to himself.

“What were you expecting?”

“Something more exciting. You moved here from California. That’s like, the coolest place ever .”

“I lived in L.A., too.”

“So like, the coolest place in the coolest place.”

“You ever been?” Steve just gave him a dark look.

“Last time I left the state was ten years ago. My parents took me to Chicago.”

“Damn. You’re like, a true hick, then. Only know this little town.”

“That’s me. Pure hick .” He scratched Egg’s back hip. She purred softly. Billy took another long drink, officially calling that his last one. He needed to be sober by the time he went home. Couldn’t be loud and clumsy as he made his way to his room.

He just pressed the bottle into Steve’s hand.

They spent the rest of the time before Billy had to leave just talking.

It was nice, Steve filling him in on the Hawkins drama, told him which gas stations had better candy selections, that the liquor store on the corner of Haven and Burbank didn’t card. He told him that Andrew Conner always had good weed, but it was cheaper to buy from Lisa Kendle.

And the more Steve drank, the more his eyes drooped, the lazier his smiles got, the closer he scoot to Billy.

He was warm, pressed up to Billy’s side, cat still curled on his chest.

He listened with rapt attention as Billy gave him stories about California, about the boardwalk and metal shows, told him stories of his best hookups, told him they were girls.

He was in the middle of one story, switched out the name from Daniel to something more appropriate, when he looked over, found Steve knocked out, mouth hanging open, tequila dangerously close to spilling, cat sleeping soundly on his chest.

It made Billy falter.

He just took in the scene, wanting to remember it.

He moved slowly, tried not to shift the bed too much, and turned out the light in Steve’s bedroom as he left.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 140

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,325ish

Summary: The Starks receive unexpected visitors, that come with a plan. 

Warning: Possible gif overload. Gifs aren’t mine. I just love Tony and Morgan.

Before the small Stark family knew it, it was October of 2023. And their house had become a wonderful home for them.

Morgan was four and almost the spitting image of her father. She was smart like him too. She loved working with her father in his workshop or playing outside in the tent Tony bought for her. 

Y/N had got into gardening, especially because they were kind of far away from any grocery store. Tony was a willing helping hand and was slowly becoming a small farm boy. It bought a few small goats, an alpaca, a couple of chickens, two cats, and was planning on getting a dog for Morgan for Christmas.

Steve and Natasha only visited when Tony was gone or Y/N and Morgan went to them. Tony was still struggling to forgive after everything, and Y/N wasn’t willing to push Tony more than he had willingly done himself.

Y/N was currently in the kitchen, making lunch, while Tony was “being helpful”.

“Are these our gojis?” Tony wondered, looking at the bowl of berries.

“They are not,” Y/N answered as she cut tomatoes.

“What’s wrong with ours?”

“Your alpaca ate them all.”

“Oh.”

“All of them.”

Tony laughed, moving to the other side of Y/N. “What a glowing endorsement. First of all Gerald is our alpaca.”

Y/N scoffed out a small chuckle. “He’s not my alpaca if he’s eating my goji’s.”

“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of berries. “They’re gonna be nice in the salad right there, right?”

“No.” Y/N quickly reach over to stop Tony. “Don’t, don’t, don’t!” Tony looked at her with big doe eyes. “Could you put it down?” She gently pushed his arm away. “And get out of my kitchen.”

“Okay.” He turned towards the stove and crashed into some pots. “Whoops.” Trying to bite back a smile, Y/N looked up at the ceiling. “We’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, we’re great.” She got back to chopping. “Tell Madam Secretary that lunch is in five.”

“I will collect our alpha female, posthaste,” Tony replied, before exiting the house.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on the food. She was so lucky. So very lucky.

~~~

Tony walked down the porch steps, clapping out a beat. 

“Chow time!” He called out to his daughter, heading towards her little play area. “Maguna?” He sat on a small chair outside of her tent. “Morgan H. Stark. Want some lunch?”

Morgan appeared from the fort with a suit helmet on and a fake suit glove. She had her gloved hand pointed at her father.

“Define lunch or be disintegrated,” she demanded in her young voice.

“Okay,” he ran his fingers down the helmet to the edge. “You should not be wearing that, okay? That is part of a special anniversary gift I’m making for mom.” He kissed the side of the helmet before removing the helmet from Morgan’s head and brushing the hair from her face.

“Okay.”

“There you go. Are you thinking about lunch? Wand a handful of crickets?”

“No,” she laughed.

“That’s what you want.” Tony held up the helmet. “How did you find this?”

“Garage.”

“Really? Were you looking for it?”

“No. I found it, though.”

“You like going to the garage, huh?” Morgan nodded as Tony lifted her up and set her on his hip. “So does daddy. It’s fine actually. Mom never wears anything I buy her.”

As they made their way to the house, a black car pulled up and parked in the driveway. Steve, Natasha, and Scott Lang stepped out as Y/N came out of the house to see what was holding Tony and Morgan up. They all were looking at Tony, who was avoiding Steve’s gaze and gave a slight nod to Natasha.

“Uncle Steve!” Morgan exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of her father’s arms. “Auntie Nat!”

Tony failed to keep her there, and let her run to welcome the guests. Y/N and Tony shared a look. They knew that, since Scott was with them, this wasn’t just a friendly visit. Y/N walked down the porch, to where Morgan was chatting Steve’s ear off in his arms.

“Hey, Mo,” Y/N called to her daughter. “Why don’t we go inside and make drinks for everyone? Then you can talk your uncle’s ear off.”

“Okay,” she sighed, turning to reach Y/N. Y/N took her from Steve.

“Please don’t ask anything stupid of him,” Y/N whispered to Steve. “He’s—we’re finally happy.”

Steve didn’t bother to answer, which Y/N huffed about before heading into the house with Morgan. Tony, Steve, Nat, and Scott gathered on the porch as Morgan and Y/N made drinks inside. Scott was explaining something when Y/N brought a tray of drinks out to Tony. She wished she could hear what they were talking about, but she needed to stay in with Morgan. Y/N watched from the window as she fed Morgan.

“Now, we know what it sounds like—“ Scott said, finishing his story.

“Tony, after everything you’ve seen, is anything really impossible?” Steve interrupted.

“Quantum fluctuation messes with the Planck Scale, which then triggers the Deutsch Proposition. Can we agree on that?” Tony asked, handing out drinks. 

“Thank you.”

“In Layman's terms, it means you're not coming home.”

“I did,” Scott said.

“No, you accidentally survived. It's a billion to one cosmic fluke. And now you wanna pull off a... What do you call it?”

“A time heist?”

“Yeah, a time heist. Of course, why didn't we think of this before? Oh, because it's laughable? Because it's a pipedream?”

“The Stones are in the past. We can go back and get them.”

“We can snap our own fingers,” Natasha stated. “We can bring everyone back.”

“Or screw it up worse than he already has, right?” Tony responded.

“I don’t believe we would,” Steve said.

“Gotta say, sometimes I miss that giddy optimism. However, high hopes won't help if there's no logical, tangible way for me to safely execute said time heist. I believe the most likely outcome would be our collective demise.” Tony sat down.

“Not if we strictly follow the rules of time travel,” Scott replied. “That means no talking to our past selves, no betting on sporting events—“

Tony held a hand out. “I’m gonna stop you right there, Scott. Are you seriously telling me that your plan to save the universe is based on Back To The Future?”

“No.”

“Good. You had me worried there. 'Cause that'd be horse shit. That's not how quantum physics works.”

“Tony…” Natasha called. “We have to take a stand.”

“We did stand. And yet, here we are.”

“I know you got a lot on the line. You got a wife, a daughter. But I lost someone very important to me. A lot of people did,” Scott was pleading. 

Y/N could see that Tony was getting overwhelmed and she quickly told her daughter to go and save him. 

“And now, now we have a chance to bring her back,” Scott continued. “To bring everyone back. And you're telling me that won't even—“

“That’s right, Scott, I won’t even. I got a kid.”

Morgan ran up to Tony, who quickly set her in his lap. “Mommy told me to come and save you,” she said.

“Good job. I’m saved.” Tony stood up, facing his friends. "I wish you'd come here to ask me something else. Anything else. Honestly, I... I missed you guys, it was... Oh, and table's set for six.”

“Tony, I get it. And I'm happy for you and Y/N, I really am. But this is a second chance.”

“I got my second chance right here, Cap. I can't roll the dice again. If you don't talk shop, you can stay for lunch.” He headed inside.

“Talk to Y/N about it. Think it over.”

“No need. We can’t risk this.”

Tony entered the house, holding Morgan close. He went straight into the kitchen to get washed up for lunch. Y/N watched as their three visitors walked back to Steve’s car. Steve looked back at the house, making eye contact with Y/N through the window.

~~~

Tony was quieter than usual the rest of the day. This worried Y/N, but she couldn’t let it get to her. She needed to take care of Morgan. They made dinner together and Tony and Morgan chatted loudly over dinner. He even offered to do the dishes while Y/N tucked in Morgan. 

As Tony finished the last of the dishes, he lost hold of the hose, causing water to spray everywhere. Including the small shelves beside the sink that held a photo of Howard and a photo of Tony and Peter. Seeing the photo of Peter slightly wet, Tony grabbed it to dry it off. Looking down he say Peter’s face. He missed that kid so much. He looked up, with a determination he hadn’t felt in a while.

When Y/N came down from tucking in Morgan, Tony was at a table. He was talking to FRIDAY and playing around with a hologram. She knew very well to leave him alone when he was like this, so she grabbed her book and curled up on the couch.

Tony was still going strong about an hour and a half later:

"Look at a mod inspiration, let me see what check out,” he told FRIDAY. “So, recommend one last sim before we pack it in for the night. This time, in the shape of a mobius strip, inverted, please.”

“Processing,” FRIDAY responded.

“Give me that eigenvalue. That, particle factoring, and a spectral decomp. That will take a second.” He stuffed some food in his mouth.

“Just a moment.”

“And don’t worry if it doesn’t pan out. I’m just kinda—“

“Model rendered.”

Tony fell back into a chair, in complete shock and amazement. “Shit!”

“Shit,” Morgan giggled.

Tony turned around to see Morgan sitting on the stairs behind him, large smile on her face.

“Sshhh,” Tony shushed, finger over his mouth. “What are you doing up, little miss?” He whispered.

“Shit,” she repeated.

“No, we don't say that. Only Mommy says that word. She coined it, it belongs to her.”

“Why you up?”

“'Cause I got some important shit going on here.” Morgan raised a brow at her father, not impressed. “What do you think? No, I got something on my mind. I got something on my mind.”

“Was it Juice Pops?”

“Sure was. That’s extortion.” He stood up and took his daughter’s hand. “Great minds think alike. Juice Pops, exactly was on…” Tony looked back at the model before heading to the kitchen with Morgan, “…my mind.”

~~~

“You done?” Tony asked with a smile on his face. Morgan was lying in her bed, finishing a Juice Pop. “Yeah, now you are.” He took the popsicle stick before wiping Morgans lips with his sleeve and pushing her head onto her pillow. “That face goes there.”

“Tell me a story,” Morgan said.

“A story… Once upon a time, Maguna went to bed. The end.”

“That’s a horrible story,” Morgan giggled.

“Come on, that's your favorite story. I love you tons.” He kissed Morgan on the forehead as he stood up.

“I love you 3000.”

Tony grinned, “wow,” he mouthed, putting the popsicle stick in his mouth. He turned off her lamp and headed to the door. “3000. That’s crazy. Go to bed. Or I’ll see all your toys. Night, night.”

Tony shut the door and heading to the living room. Y/N was still curled up reading.

“Not that it's a competition, but she loves me 3000,” Tony stated as he came up to the side of the couch. 

“Oh does she now?” Y/N questioned.

“You were somewhere on the low 6 to 900 range.” Y/N scoffed as Tony chewed on the stick and looked at the fireplace. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, it's just a book on composting,” she responded.

“What's new with composting?”

“Just—“

“I figured it out, by the way.”

Y/N looked up at Tony. “You know, just so we're talking about the same thing—“

“Time travel.”

“What? Wow… I… That’s amazing, and… terrifying.”

“That’s right.” Tony sat down on the other end of the couch.

Y/N reached over and squeezed Tony’s shoulder. “We got really lucky.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“A lot of people didn’t.”

“No, I can't help everybody.”

“It sort a seems like you can.”

“Not if I stop. I can put a pin in it right now, and stop.”

“Tony… getting each other to stop has been one of the few failures of our lives.”

He smiled lightly at her. “I sometimes feel I should put it in a locked box and drop it at the bottom of a lake... go to bed.”

“But would you be able to rest? Cause I sure as hell won’t be able to… I’ll stand by your side no matter you choose.”

“You already know what I’ll choose though, don’t you? Cause you’ve seen in.”

“I haven’t seen it… but I know that last fight isn’t the last.”

“I just… I can’t lose you and Morgan.”

“You won’t.” Y/N grabbed Tony’s hand. “We’re going to do this. Together…” She leaned in and kissed him softly. “Your lips taste like Juice Pops,” she giggled against his lips.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” 

She shook her head before kissing him again, this time more heated. Tony pulled her onto his lap.

“What would you say to grabbing some Juice Pops and taking this upstairs?” Y/N panted slightly.

“I wouldn’t be opposed.” He placed on last kiss on Y/N’s lips before standing them both up. “I’ll grab the pops, meet you up stairs.”

“We have to be quiet though. Last time Morgan almost walked in on us.”

“Oh, don’t worry. FRIDAY won’t let that happen again.”

next chapter >

NOTES: Sorry about the time jump. Please send in requests for one shots or questions you want answered about the missing time. Try to be specific.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Meant To Be - Chapter 9

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 5547

Warnings: Smutty smut 

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics​ 

Jordan moved her arm, and the unfamiliar tug of the IV finished waking her from a deep sleep. Her eyes opened, focusing slowly on the figure of the man sleeping in the recliner beside her bed. Dean was sound asleep, arms flung wide, an occasional soft snore escaping his parted lips. She smiled, relieved to see him there, safe and apparently uninjured. His vest was draped over a nearby chair, his boots beside it, badge and gun still in place at his waist.

She watched him silently until the quiet whoosh of the opening door made her turn her head that way. A nurse came in, her eyes falling on the peacefully sleeping man, and she quietly made her way to Jordan’s side. “How are you doing?” she whispered, taking her wrist between her fingers to check her pulse.

“I’m good. The doctor said once this bag was gone, the IV could come out – can you do that?”

“Sure!” She worked on that, nodding her head towards Dean. “Looks like you have your own private security, huh?”

Jordan grinned. “I’m very lucky.”

The nurse nodded, her eyebrows raised in agreement. “Yeah, you are. Well, let me know if you need anything else. Doc should be here in a couple of hours, once he okays it, you’ll be able to go home.”

“Thank you,” Jordan whispered back, and the nurse walked back to the door, turning with an expression of appreciation as she glanced back at Dean, pretending to fan herself before grinning and pulling the door closed behind her. Jordan giggled softly, and Dean stirred a little, his eyes opening slowly, squinting as he tried to focus. “Hey, sleepyhead,” she teased, and a crooked smile quirked up one side of his lips.

“Hey, yourself. How are you doing?” His voice was raspy with sleep, eyes heavy-lidded, his hair mussed and adorable, and she smiled affectionately back at him.

“I’m good. Head still pounding a little, but not as bad.” She threw her covers back, swinging her legs around, and hopped off the bed, coming over to crawl into his lap.

“Are they sure, they checked you out?”

She looked into his eyes, nodding. “Cat scan, the whole works. I have a concussion, but everything else is okay. Nurse said I can go home as soon as the doc checks in.” She leaned in to kiss him, and he pulled her closer with a soft hum against her lips.

He slipped his hand just beneath the hem of her hospital gown, fingers trailing over her knee as he laid his head back and smiled at her. “Donna’s bringing some clothes for you, she’ll be here in about an hour. Then we can stop and see Sam, if you want.”

She nodded. “Yes, I definitely want.” She cuddled against him, kissing his neck before settling her head on his shoulder with a sigh. When Donna arrived, they were both asleep in the chair.

She knocked lightly on the inside of the door, and they both stirred, yawning. “Hey, Donna,” Jordan smiled sleepily, not moving from her perch.

“Hey, you two. I hated to wake you, but I think the doc’s on his way soon, anyway. How are you feelin’, hon?”

“A little headache and neck pain, but other than that, I’m ok. I was better when I woke up and saw Dean sitting here and I knew you guys were all right.”

“Oh, hell, yeah. Like they used to say on Dukes of Hazzard, we cuffed ‘em and stuffed ‘em,” Donna joked, and the girls laughed. “Of course, Dean wanted to kill the creep that had you, but…”

“Sometimes it sucks being one of the good guys,” he grumbled, and Jordan smiled down at him.

“Don’t feel bad, I kinda wanted to kill him myself,” she said, dropping a kiss on his nose before sliding off his lap. “You brought me clothes?” Donna held out a bag and Jordan took it with a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’ll get dressed, and then we can go see Sam?”

“That’s the plan, as soon as the doc lets you go,” Dean answered, and she stepped into the bathroom to change.

After an impatient wait, the doctor finally showed up to release Jordan, and they all headed to Sam’s room together. He was sitting up and talking quietly to Sarah when they walked in, and she jumped up to give Jordan a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay! You must have been terrified,” she sympathized, and Jordan nodded.

“Not something I want to go through again,” she agreed, then moved over to the bed to take Sam’s hand. “I was so damn worried about you.”

Dean came around to the foot of the bed where he could see his brother. “Yeah, even on the ransom call when I demanded to talk to her, it was “I’m okay – how’s Sam?” he grinned. “And you guys have matching black eyes. Somebody needs to take a picture of this.”

“Gotcha covered,” Donna piped up, grabbing her phone. “Get down there next to him, girl, we have to capture this for posterity.”

“Just what a woman wants to do after getting shanghaied and spending the night in the hospital – get her picture taken,” Jordan sighed, rolling her eyes, but she bent down next to Sam so Donna could capture the moment, laughing as Sam whispered some funny comment in her ear. Donna held out her phone with a triumphant grin.

“It’s a keeper!”

Jordan sat next to Dean on the way home, drowsy and content with his arm around her. She looked up at him, confused, when they pulled up in front of her apartment building. “We’re not going to your place?”

Dean hesitated a moment, then turned to look at her. “Doc said nothing strenuous, lots of rest. I just thought it’d be better if you were in your own bed, and we wouldn’t be – you know – trying to do strenuous stuff.”

She giggled, shoving at his shoulder. “It’s okay, you need to get some sleep, too.”

“Yeah, and – Donna and I have a lot of statements to take the next couple of days, and paperwork to do. We’ll have to get your statement at some point, but not until you’re rested up.” He leaned in close and kissed her tenderly. “C’mon, I’ll walk you up.”

He hung around the apartment, chatting with Donna until Jordan had showered and got ready for bed, going in to kiss her goodnight before he left. It didn’t take her long to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was late evening when Dean and Donna came home the next night, and Jordan sensed tension between them as soon as they walked through the door. It had been a long couple of days, and everyone was bound to be on edge, so she didn’t ask what was going on.

“Want a beer?” she asked, and Donna shot her a tired smile.

“Not me. I’m heading for the shower and my bed, it’s been a long day.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I should head out, too. Donna, we’ll talk about this later.”

She looked up at him, her voice sharp. “I’ll walk you out,” she said, and Jordan bit her lip nervously.

“Guess I’ll get ready for bed,” she said softly. “G’night, you two.” Dean was not acting normal at all, and Donna was pissed, and she suddenly wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” Dean said softly, and Jordan nodded, noting the death glare Donna was aiming his way. The obviously feuding partners headed for the door, and Jordan walked towards her room, her stomach in knots.

She had barely walked into her bedroom when she remembered she had wanted to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, so she turned and headed back that way. She closed the fridge and heard Donna’s voice raise just enough that she could hear, wishing she had stayed in her room but unable to make her feet move.

“Dean, you know how I feel. I don’t like it at all, you blindsided me with this. You have to talk to Jordan.”

“I know! I will, I just – I have to… there’s just some shit I have to figure out, think about. I didn’t plan for this to happen, at least not this soon. Not right after… I mean, really, we haven’t been together that long, but…”

“Well, you’d better figure it out, and fast. I’m not good at hiding things. And I shouldn’t have to. I wish you hadn’t even told me.”

“I’m sorry! I had to fucking talk to somebody, and I thought maybe my partner wouldn’t be such a dick about it!”

Now Dean sounded pissed, and Jordan felt sick. She rushed back to her room, afraid Donna would come back into the apartment and see her standing there. Her hands were shaking, her head spinning, memories of Darrel’s demeaning and belittling comments echoing through her mind. She crawled into her bed, curled into a ball, trying to ignore them, but they wouldn’t leave her alone. All the old insecurity she had worked so hard to recover from came flooding back, overwhelming her. It hadn’t taken Dean long to get tired of her, apparently. And Donna was upset with him because he wasn’t talking to her about it. How could she think he actually wanted more with her than a casual fling?

She hadn’t felt this small since the end of her relationship with Darrel, and she finally fell asleep, exhausted, dark thoughts haunting her through the restless night.

Jordan stayed in bed the next morning until Donna left, not wanting to see anyone. She moved through her day in a daze, unable to focus on anything but her misery. She was in love with Dean, but something had happened to change his feelings towards her. Maybe last night hadn’t been about the doctor’s orders at all. Maybe it was just the first step in distancing himself from her. And even worse, if they weren’t going to be together, how could they possibly get back to the warm, easy friendship they’d had before? Everything was such a mess, she was a mess, and there was nothing she could do to fix it.

Late that afternoon, there was a soft knock at the door before she heard the key in the lock. Dean peeked his head in, seeing her sitting there, and came in, alone. He looked nervous, and she felt that sick, hollow feeling in her stomach again, dreading what was coming.

“Hey,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Where’s Donna?”

“She’s at Doug’s. Wanted to give us some time to talk.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

He came to the couch, sitting down and rubbing the back of his neck before turning his body towards her. He glanced at her before he started talking, then kept his eyes in his lap, his hands fidgeting and rubbing over his thigh occasionally as the words tumbled out. “So, I’ve been kinda messed up for the last few months – I mean, you know that. When I went to South Dakota, when I met you, I was… I didn’t know if I wanted to come back to work, back to Kansas City. Anyway, while I was there, working on my car, I needed a part, and I found this little repair and body shop there. The old guy that owns it was pretty cool, we got to talking, and I told him how I grew up in Kansas working at my uncle’s body shop. He got me a beer and we just sat there and shot the shit for a couple of hours, it was the most I’d talked to anybody for a long time. When I got ready to leave, he said, ‘Dean, I’m gonna give up and retire one of these days. I’d sure like it if somebody like you would buy this place and run it like it should be run.’ Well, I told him, sure, give me a call when you do that, and I’ll see where I’m at.”

He looked up at Jordan again, then back down before continuing. “Well, he called me yesterday. And if we hadn’t just wrapped up the whole mess behind that shooting, I don’t know if I would even think about it. But – I’m burned out. I don’t love my job anymore. I really think I want out. Donna’s pissed at me, feels like I’m abandoning her or something, but – I can’t do this job if my heart and my head aren’t in it. I can cash in my pension and buy that shop, do something I used to dream about when I was a kid working for my uncle. Live in a place where you can walk down the street without worrying about getting mugged. Watch some sunsets, see what real peace and quiet feels like.”

Jordan was struggling not to cry, but her tears were winning, rolling silently down her face, and as she sniffed softly, Dean raised his head to look at her. “So - you’re leaving.” He stared at her, a stricken expression on his face at her obvious distress, his mouth open to speak, but she went on. “I mean, I get it, you’re not happy, and you don’t feel about me the same way I feel about you. I mean, Darrel always said I wasn’t enough to keep a man for long, I should have seen it coming. I should have stayed away from you in the first place.” She started to rise from the couch, but Dean reached out and stopped her with a firm grip on her arm.

“Whoa! Hey, where is this coming from? No – just... Baby, no… God, I fucked this up.” He shook his head. “Damn it, Jordan, I don’t want to leave you. I’m not leaving you. I want you to come with me. But we haven’t been together for that long, and you just got to KC, and I didn’t want you to feel like I was pushing you too fast...” He moved closer, his hands cradling her face. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I had no idea you thought that’s what was happening.”

“I heard you and Donna last night, I thought you were sick of me, I thought you wanted to leave me, and I thought that’s why Donna was mad at you, and all I could think about was the shit that Darrel used to say to me...” Dean pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and soothing her until she quieted down. Then he took her by the shoulders and moved her back, taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently.

“If it’s the last thing I do, I’m gonna erase what that asshole did to you, I don’t care if it takes me the rest of my fucking life. None of it is true. You hear me? And I’m not leaving you. If you really want to stay here, I will work through my bullshit and stay. But if you want to come with me – I told Earl I’d call him back tomorrow, let him know. I know that’s not much time, but...”

After a moment of thoughtful silence, she responded, “So, maybe I could still work for Sam, from home?”

“I’m sure you could. We can talk to him, we can go to the hospital so you can discuss it with him, if you want.”

“And we could go to Molly’s for bacon cheeseburgers and pancakes...”

“And frosty mugs of beer. Yeah. And I thought we could maybe buy a little house, and you could come and have lunch with me at the shop sometimes.” He kissed her nose, then her lips, and a smirk slowly curved his lips. “And maybe I could come home for lunch sometimes, but not for lunch, ya know?”

Jordan blushed, looking up at him from under her damp lashes. “You could.” He kissed her again, lingering over her lips, and she let out a little sigh, melting against him. Her arms slipped around his waist, handfuls of his shirt in her fists as his tongue touched her lips, then slipped between them with a moan.  

“Maybe I should stop,” he mumbled reluctantly, barely parting from her lips as he spoke, and she tightened her grip around him with a little whimper.

“Dean… it’s been two days, I’m fine, and I need you...”

He groaned, kissing her again, hard, before stopping to look into her eyes. “Are you sure? That you’re ready? Your head...”

“Please, Dean, I promise, I’m fine.” She slipped her hands underneath his shirt, moving them up his back and dragging her nails gently over his skin. “I need you to hold me, I need to feel you inside me...” She brushed her lips along his jaw line, then down to his pulse point, sucking gently at his skin, and he swore, letting her push him down. She stretched out, her body full length over his, grinding against his erection, her lips crashing down on his again. His hands gripped her ass, his hips rising up to meet her as she moaned into their kiss. She finally raised her head, panting for air, her eyes dark with want. “Maybe we should go to my room… in case Donna...”

Dean nodded, and she climbed off of him, heading to her room with him hot on her heels. He was halfway undressed by the time he reached the room, dropping his clothes in a pile before stretching out on the bed, lazily stroking his cock with one hand as he watched Jordan strip down. “C’mere, sweetheart...” he urged, and she climbed onto the bed, settling over top of him again and raising up to let him guide himself to her entrance. She wasted no time, impaling herself on him slowly, her eyes closing and head thrown back as she took him in fully, her thighs trembling beneath Dean’s hands.

“Feels so good, baby...”

She didn’t move, the sensation of him pressing into the deepest part of her making it hard to breathe, so delicious that she wanted it to last forever. Her hands fell on top of his, clutching, her eyes finally opening to meet his heated gaze. “Dean…” she whined softly, and he shuddered as she clenched around him.

“Whatever you need, sweetheart, just tell me,” he said softly, his hands gently kneading at her thighs.

“Hold me.” He raised up slowly, gathering her close against his chest, fingers trailing over her back as he dropped hungry little kisses on her lips. After a few moments, he laid back, pulling her with him, his lips ravenous on hers as she began to move her hips. She was completely lost in him, the wanton sounds muffled by their kisses making him crazy, and he clutched her tightly to his chest, wanting to feel every inch of her against him.

It was delicious torture, the slow grinding of their bodies together, and Jordan pushed herself up with a soft cry as she neared her orgasm, her nails digging into Dean’s shoulders. He slipped his hands beneath her, squeezing at her breasts before giving her nipples a gentle twist, clenching his teeth as she came, grinding down hard on top of him and quivering around his aching cock.

She dropped down, her heart pounding against his chest, and he stroked his hands over her back, soothing her with gentle whispers and kisses to her forehead. She finally tipped her head back to look into his face, an endorphin-drunk smile on her lips. “Are you good?”

“So good,” she answered with a sigh.

“No headache?”

“Dean, I’m okay. Stop worrying.”

He grinned. “Okay, but I’m taking over from here.” She raised her eyebrows at him, then let out a surprised little cry and pouted when he pulled her off of him, and he laughed as he flipped her to her back on the bed beside him. Before she could say anything, he was snugged up between her thighs and slipping back inside her, his lips silencing her pretended protests. “So, you got a problem with that?” he teased, his lips brushing over hers, and she smiled, arching up a little beneath him.

“No problems here. None.”

He tilted his hips a little, making Jordan’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, and bent to take a nipple into his mouth. She sighed, head thrown back, blissfully enjoying the waves of pleasure washing through her. Dean began to move, slowly at first, shifting his attention to her other breast with a moan as she shifted her hips to meet him. As he began to thrust faster and harder, he raised his head to look down at her, watching her expressions as he drove them higher. She opened her eyes, staring up at him with such heat in her gaze that he let out a growl, capturing her lips in a ravenous kiss, swallowing her cry as she began to come undone. “Let go, sweetheart, I’m right there with you,” he managed to say, burying his head in the slope of her shoulder as he came, everything inside him white hot and throbbing in time with his pounding heart. Jordan was still letting out soft little whimpers when he regained his senses, finally going quiet after a long shudder.

They laid quiet in each others’ arms for a time, neither of them wanting to move. Dean finally shifted himself over, laying on his side next to her, and she turned towards him, a contented little smile on her face, her eyes shining as she looked at him. He let his fingers trail over her cheek, ducking his head a little with a shy smile. “What?” she asked softly, taking hold of his hand. He shook his head with a small shrug of his shoulders, his eyes still averted.

“I don’t know. Just – the way you look at me. Makes me feel like I should, I don’t know, do something amazing for you.”

She laughed softly. “You mean like asking me to run away to South Dakota with you?”

His crooked smile grew, and he looked back into her eyes again. “No, I mean something really big. Rope the moon, slay a dragon, you know – big.”

“You wanna be my hero?”

He huffed out a laugh, blushing a bit. “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

She raised her hand to his face with a soft smile. “Well, you already are.”

“C’mere, you,” he whispered, pulling her close, kissing her with all the emotion he couldn’t express in words. After several minutes, he moved away slightly, a finger beneath Jordan’s chin to tip her head back so he could look into her eyes. “So – what do you say, should we call Earl?”

She grinned, nodding. “Yeah. Let’s call Earl.”

Jordan parked in front of the shop and smiled up at the newly edited sign. Where it used to say Earl’s, now it read ‘Dean’s Body and Repair.” It had been three months since they had moved to South Dakota, bought a nice little three-bedroom ranch with a fenced-in yard and settled in. Dean’s business had taken right off, Earl’s loyal customers staying with him thanks to Earl’s glowing endorsement, and seeing him relaxed, happy and enjoying his work made her heart smile.

It was Friday night, closing time, and Jordan glanced around, making sure no one was around to stop her for a chat when she got out of the car. The coast was clear, so she headed into the shop, turning to lock the door behind her with a smile.

Her heels clacked against the concrete floor as she made her way back into the depths of the shop, her short skirt swinging with each step. Dean was just reaching for a shop towel after washing his hands, his coveralls down around his waist, and she felt that little clutch in her belly that she always got at the sight of his shoulders, bared in the tank top he was wearing. His eyebrows raised with surprise as she approached him, his eyes roaming over her. “Hi.”

“Are you the mechanic I’ve been hearing about?”

Dean’s lips twitched as he smothered his grin. “I’m the mechanic here, yeah.”

“I was told that you’re the best body man around.”

He tilted his head back, his eyes narrowing a little. “You were told?”

She shrugged. “I hear things. I came to see for myself.”

“Okay. So – what kind of work do you need done?”

She walked slowly over towards the Impala, which was sitting in the nearest stall where it was parked after an oil change. Dean watched the sway of her skirt, swallowing hard as she twirled to lean her back against the gleaming fender. “I was hoping that you could just check things over for me, see if I need anything – touched up.” She put her arms out to her sides, hands on the car, trying not to smile as Dean’s eyes were pulled to her cleavage. “Also, I think I might have a problem with my – intake manifold? Is that what you call it? I was told that you have the perfect tool for that kind of work.”

Dean cleared his throat a little. “So, what kind of car do you drive?”

Jordan smiled. “Oh, I’m not talking about my car.”

A smirk was beginning to curve his lips as he walked towards her, stopping in front of her to look up and down her body, slow and deliberate. “Well, from what I can see, your chassis is in perfect condition. But I’d have to get hands-on to be sure.”

“That’s the idea.” Her voice sounded breathless, catching just a bit as his hand touched her thigh, slipping beneath the hem of her skirt.

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? That short little skirt, and no panties?”

His fingers were trailing over her hip, squeezing at her ass and then sneaking around to explore between her thighs as she struggled to speak. “I wanted to make you happy.”

She bit at her lip as he stroked his fingers over her, teasing at her clit. “Oh, I’m more than happy,” he said, his voice gravelly with lust. He brought his fingers up to his lips, sucking her flavor from them before reaching for the buttons of her low-cut blouse. “Fuck,” he growled as he opened it to see the red satin and lace bra beneath, and she moved her arms to let her top fall to the floor. “You locked the door, right?”

She nodded, unable to form words at the moment, the heat of his gaze and his touch rendering her speechless. She braced her hands against the Impala again as his fingers traced the edge of her bra, caressing the rounded flesh above the fabric, then tugging the cups down and bending to drag his tongue over a nipple. She let out a soft whine, and then his large hands grasped her by the waist and set her up on the fender before he reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, tossing it out of the way and attacking her breasts in earnest.

Finally he laid her back on the car, staring down at her, his hands roaming over her body as she squirmed, every nerve electrified at his touch. “So fucking beautiful,” he growled, moving to flip her skirt up and pull her legs over his shoulders, bending to bury his face in her pussy with a moan. Already on fire, within moments she was thrashing underneath him, her heels flying from her feet as she shouted his name, coming hard as he drove her over the edge.

Once Jordan had calmed, Dean stood and dragged his forearm over his face, then reached for her waist, lifting her from the car and setting her to her feet. Legs wobbling, she leaned against the fender, watching as Dean, his eyes never leaving her, shoved his coveralls down and unfastened his jeans. He pulled her close again, walking her to the back of the Impala before shoving all his clothing down to his knees and spinning her to face the car. He wrapped one arm around her chest, his fingers kneading at her breast as his other hand covered her sex, holding her tight as he nipped at her neck. “You know what happens when you strut in here in your high heels and short little skirt with no underwear, naughty girl?” he rumbled in her ear, and she shook her head, trembling in his hold. “You get bent over my car and fucked.” At his last word, he plunged two fingers inside her, startling a cry from her lips, his arm around her the only reason she was still on her feet. After a few well-aimed strokes, he pulled his hand free from between her thighs and pushed her forward over the trunk, growling, “Hands on the car, and don’t move.”

After he had arranged her to his liking, moving her legs farther apart and pulling her hips towards him, he lined himself up, one hand on her back to keep her in place as he slowly penetrated her, pressing forward until he was balls-deep and she was whimpering beneath him. “You okay, baby?” he asked softly, waiting for her to nod before he moved, a tiny shift of his hips that made her moan. “If you liked that, just wait.” He pulled back, the slick drag against his sensitive cock making him hiss in a breath, teeth clenched. He pushed forward again with a soft growl, fighting for control for a moment before beginning a quickly increasing rhythm, his hands gripping Jordan’s hips to hold her in place. Each thrust forced a cry from her lips, incoherent begging and long, low moans of his name, spurring him on.

He felt his balls draw up tight, forcing a “Fuck!” from him as he began to flood her with his release, driving into her hard and fast. A moment later, she arched up with a broken shout of his name, her cunt seizing around him and making him swear again, shaking uncontrollably until she dropped to the shining surface of the Impala’s trunk, her breath coming in harsh sobs.

He let go of her, supporting himself with his hand against the car for a moment, waiting for his head to stop spinning. Jordan laid there beneath him, still panting, boneless and limp. Dean stood, pulling his pants up around his waist, and lifted her from the car and into his arms. He walked to his desk chair and sat with her in his lap, cradling her close against him. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand smoothing over her back, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.

Jordan tilted her head back to look at him, a serene little smile on her face. “Hey.”

Dean chuckled softly. “You good?”

She sighed, snuggling back against his chest. “I’m amazing.”

“Fucking right, you are. What the hell got into you today, anyway?” He smiled down at her, hands still stroking over her silky skin. “Not that I’m complaining...”

She shrugged a little, a shy smile curving her lips. “Ever since the first day I met you, I had this fantasy of being manhandled and fucked by a really hot mechanic.”

He blushed a little, bending to kiss her, lingering over her lips for a few moments. “So, did you walk down here like that?”

Jordan giggled. “Ummmm… no. I know it’s only three blocks, but I could just see a little breeze kicking up and me walking bare-assed down the street. And besides, I was afraid Mrs. Murphy would want to stop me and talk about her cat.” Dean laughed, and she continued. “So no, my car is outside.”

“Well, good – I think maybe we’ll drive home together, I think I need to clean the Impala before I take her out. Somebody made kind of a mess on the trunk.”

“Not my fault.”

“Totally your fault.” He kissed her firmly as if to seal his winning of the argument. “So, how about we go home and shower, then hit Molly’s?”

“That is the second best offer I’ve had all day.” She reached her hand to his face, her eyes soft and searching. “You know, I was thinking. Everything that’s happened to us – if I hadn’t been running away from Darrel, and you hadn’t been trying to escape the shit in Kansas City – we never would have met each other. I think it was meant to be.”

“Oh, baby, definitely,” he said as she stretched up to kiss him again. “So – maybe we should try to find your clothes.”

“I have no idea where my shoes are. I think I kicked them off when you were eating me out like a wild man.”

Dean’s laugh echoed through the garage. “You can go home barefoot, I’ll find ‘em later. I don’t know about you, but I’m dying for a bacon cheeseburger.”

“Oh, God, yes. And a beer.”

He wrapped his arms around her for one more squeeze. “Yep. Definitely meant to be.”

[honeybeezx]

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So this is the first fic I’ve ever posted on tumblr, low key kinda scary😄 But this man and his paramour have been on my mind for the longest. This is a self insert fic, but I don’t really use “Y/N”. Hope you enjoy and any feedback would be great!

Summary: You are an assassin hired by Tyrion to act as extra security alongside Bronn. He brings you back to King’s Landing just as the boy king Jeoffry Baratheon plans to marry the cunning Margaery Tyrell. But with all the guests roaming around, you begin to wonder who is a friend and who is a foe. No one makes you wonder more than the famed prince from Dorne and his captivating paramour.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of murder, allusions to sex

—————

You never knew anything in the seven kingdoms could make you feel so small. It wasn’t as if you’d ever let it show. You held your head high, walking alongside Tyrion as both of you entered the great hall of the throne room, Bronn on the opposite side of your employer. The Red Keep was even bigger than you had imagined it to be. The throne room was the tallest room you had ever seen. Against the dark ceiling the columns looked as if they stretched up into the night sky.

Every eye in the palace was on the three of you, and you felt no one’s eyes more than Cersei’s. You held her gaze. A woman who lived in luxury her whole life did not frighten you. She may have influence, but you had experience, strength, freedom, and skill with your bow that you were now acutely aware was strapped to your back. Having the protection of Tyrion’s influence and connections and Bronn’s strength and skill with a sword brought a sense of comfort, allowing you to remain calm under such scrutinizing gaze.

“Brother.” Cersei greeted with a soft smile that failed to hide all the vileness in her heart. “You come with friends.”

“Oh no, more like bodyguards. We have so many enemies now a days sister, I like to know I’m protected.” Tyrion smirked, leaving Bronn chuckling. You, on the other hand, would not let your intimidating demeanor fade, remaining as stoic and unyielding as the stone columns that held up the palace you wished to see fall. “May I introduce Bronn, Lord of Highgarden and-“

“Yes, I know all about the Silver Hawk from the North. I wonder if you are half as good as they say you are.” She mocked, her tone anything but genuinely curious. “I am told that you can hit your target 200 meters away and steal their breath before they even know what hit them.” If you didn’t know any better you’d think she was impressed, even if she did look at you as if you were the lowest creature she ever beheld.

“Perhaps I will have an opportunity to display my skills while I am here, your grace.” You’ll see first hand when my arrow is aimed just above your crooked neck.

“Perhaps.” She replied, feigning as much sweetness as a ferrel cat.

The both of you narrowed your eyes at each other. There was no outright exchange of harsh words or petty language, but the furious tension between the two of you was enough to fill the entire hall with uncomfortable silence. You hoped your unyielding gaze scared her. You wondered how many people actually defied her, you wondered how long it would take to get under her skin.

“Yes, well.” Tyrion interrupted, knowing you were bubbling with anger. Cersei was too, and although you allowed her to see your own emotions, it please you a bit to know you could anger her just as easy. You hated Lannisters almost more than anything, but you also knew Cersei’s time would come. She would pay for her crimes, fate would decide her end. You knew that fate had not brought you here to slay the queen regent, as much as you despised her. “As much as I love chatting with you sister, I simply wanted our arrival to be known. We have much unpacking to do and much to discuss.”

“Be careful, little brother.” She warned. “Your guard has little reserve and it seems your little silver hawk has a silver tongue as well. You would be wise to remember that people have been killed for that and less.”

“I’ll be sure to keep very close watch over them.” Tyrion retorted sarcastically before turning on his heal and exiting the great hall. You and Bronn followed, the later unable to contain his amusement.

“I’d say that went well!” He quipped, smiling at both you and your employer.

“She didn’t call to chop off our heads, that is some relief.” Tyrion noted. “But you both must be careful, especially you.” His scrutinizing gaze met yours.

“What? You expected me to just let her try and hold some dominate power over me? Just because she is draped in finest jewels in the seven realms and hides behind the her father’s influence does not mean I will tremble like a child before her.”

Tyrion sighed. “You must, for now, hold your tongue. Your wit does you credit, that’s why I like you, but you must check yourself. My sister is more dangerous than you can imagine. Don’t tremble, but don’t overstep either.” You remembered that Tyrion had been playing the game his whole life, he was basically born into it. He knew his sister better than anyone, and that meant he knew how to get around her better than anyone. You made a note to observe exactly what made Cersei tick, what made her preen under her usually reserved demeanor.

Despite the warm tones of the palace, you felt as though you were walking on ice. One wrong step and you were dead under a frozen tundra. You didn’t like this at all. Tyrion promised your freedom would not be at risk, yet you felt the freedom to speak your mind, the freedom to do as you pleased slip from you more and more. You were being watched here, you weren’t stupid. Every move had to be calculated, every word like honey laced with poison. The faster the boy king could marry, the less people there were for you to worry about. It made you uncomfortable not knowing who was an ally and who was a foe. The one thing you could appreciate about Cersei was that you always knew where you stood with her.

“I will try to remain civil if she approaches me, otherwise I will avoid your sister to the best of my abilities. But she would be wise not to challenge my reserve.” I huffed, earning a laugh from Bronn.

“Your reserve, little hawk, will be undone, whether it be from your words or your arrows.” He teased. You gave him a shove and he stumbled a bit, but not much. The last thing you needed was the oaf calling you “little”.

“The sooner we are out of this horrid place the better.” You huffed.

“I agree,” Tyrion agreed, nodding in understanding, “but don’t hold your breath. There is so much to be done before my nephew’s wedding and I will be relying on both of you to help me. While I am arranging more intimate details with my family, you two will be protecting me, but also doing some side tasks that I will not have time for. Bronn, for the most part you will be either at my side or Shae’s. If the palace discovers her they will use her against me. She can’t be found.”

Shae, Tyrion’s lover of sorts. You had grown close to her on your travels. You were wary at first. Your job was to protect Tyrion, naturally, you were cautious of anyone who might try to hurt him, to get close to him only for information or power. But it was a tough business, out spying a spy, and all your instincts told you to trust Shae. She had not left any of you astray thus far, and though the couple had not named their relationship, you could tell Tyrion and Shae cared immensely for each other. But Tyrion was right, she could be used as a pawn against him, especially if Cersei found out.

There was a sort of kinship between you and Shae. You were both strong, clever women, and she had tended to the few wounds you found yourself with on your travels. She seemed like a sister, and you were grateful for the company and friendship she provided.

“As for our favorite archer, you will be assisting some guests, getting information. I want to know the people attending this wedding, I want to ensure that this wedding goes smoothly. The Tyrell’s are a powerful ally, we cannot lose them.”

You nodded in understanding. Tyrion hired you to protect him, yes, but archery was not your only strength. You could be quiet, and you could listen as well as you could speak. You knew he would ask that of you with all the guests roaming around. You were curious to know what King’s Landing was really like, and even more interested in knowing the people who came here. “Ask it of me and it will be done.”

“Aye.” Bronn agreed.

“You are the most trusted of friends.” Tyrion gave the smallest of smiles. You were hesitant to even be in his service when the lord found you and offered you a job, afraid of losing your freedom. You knew the Lannisters, you knew their foul and power-hungry disposition. Being in their service seemed to you signing your life away. You were surprised to find he did not wish to take such things from you. He hired both you and Bronn to protect him, yes, but he would do the same for you both. You were an odd sort of family, but a family nonetheless. “Get settled and rested for the evening, we’ve had a long journey. We will reconvene later to discuss further plans.”

You nodded and left to your new chamber, one just across from Bronn and down the hall from Tyrion.

The trio was still not aware of the Red Viper slithering about the halls.

——————

Days passed with little to do. You hadn’t seen much of Tyrion. Since your arrival at King’s Landing your employer had become hand to his nephew king and married the pretty Stark girl you later learned was named Sansa. Still, you found ways to spend your time, keeping eyes and ears open for any useful information. You were particularly interested in Joffrey. It was astounding how a little boy could hold so much power, so much evil. You figured he inherited his terror from his mother.

Sansa was an interesting girl as well. Your heart broke for her. She was nothing if not resilient, staying loyal to her betrothed if only to keep herself alive. She was smart, you learned, but not useful when attempting to gather information. She did not deny her loyalty to Joffrey, even to those she liked. You were grateful that Tyrion stepped in to propose to the poor girl, if only to save her from the tyrant king. Both you and Shae kept close eyes on her. She was as smart and clever as Shae and yourself. You had a sneaking suspicion that she could be a close ally, if only your little family could get her away from the palace.

But today was different. Today you left your quarters to explore the palace a bit. You wanted to know what sort of battleground you were working with. It seemed surprising that a palace that was so heavily targeted was so...open. It seemed like light could illuminate any room. Even the gloomy and foreboding throne room could not escape a few beams of sunlight. If you didn’t despise every Lannister crawling about the palace, you had a mind to stay. The palace was only under the allusion of being warm and charming, the people who inhabited it ruined any chance of it being a lovely place. You noticed that the open windows and balconies made perfect outlooks should you need to eliminate a threat with one of your silver arrows.

But for now, the open windows became your place of peace as you ate a bowl of berries, just watching the rest of the sunrise. You saw the sun just barely grace the city with its light before you were called into Tyrion’s chambers. You arrived promptly, Bronn stumbling in a few minutes after you. You rolled your eyes at his lack of punctuality, which only earned you a playful nudge from the Lord of Highgarden.

“Behave you two. I swear I am dealing with children.” Shae huffed, but you could tell behind her sharp features was an air of mischief. Still, you straightened up and diverted your full attention to Tyrion.

“Well, much has happened. Prince Oberyn has arrived in The Capital. I visited him yesterday morning and he made it very clear that he wants to kill any Lannister that he sets his sights on. My father apparently ordered the death of his sister and her children. Our goal, for now, is to keep him happy, to keep him entertained. Bronn, your job will be to appear inconspicuous as you keep a watchful eye over my quarters, make sure no one goes in or out.” He ordered.

Shae huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself thank you.” She huffed.

“No one disputes that my dear.” Tyrion chuckled. You remember watching Shae stab a man she did not want for laying a finger on her. “I’m not worried about you. But my sister and my king nephew are very powerful. They will know how to use you against me.” He explained. Shae still was not pleased with the idea, but she relented.

“As for our hawk,” he turned to you and gave you a list with names you did not recognize, “you will present these girls to Prince Oberyn in my place. You will tell him that royal duties as the king’s new hand have prevented me from revisiting him, but you hope he enjoys the whores as a welcoming gift to King’s Landing.”

“Excuse me?!” You snapped your eyes narrowing in on your employer. “I am not a squire whose job is to bring in girls for spoiled princes!”

“Do not think of it as that.” Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine, knowing that he should chose his next words very carefully. He could feel your eyes burning into him. “Consider it a diplomatic mission. Besides, the prince wishes to meet you. The legends of the Silver Hawk have reached so far as Dorne and he is eager to make your acquaintance. This is the perfect opportunity for the both of you.”

You still weren’t pleased. “So I am now to serve as entertainment for the prince of Dorne.” You sighed and shook your head. “I am only staying long enough to bring him the girls, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” Tyrion relented. “But you will be cordial to the prince. Don’t be deceived by his charming words, he stabbed one of my cousins for a few unkind, brutish remarks. I don’t want to know what he’ll do when he hears your fire-laced words.” If it weren’t such a serious situation, Tyrion might have been amused to hear you use your wit against a prince, but the prince’s history with the Lannisters was anything but a joke.

“I’m sure she can handle herself. Hawks have talons after all.” Shae teased, but squeezed your arm affectionately. You offered a kind smile, but you still loathed this plan.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Tyrion rubbed his temple like the very thought of you getting into trouble was enough to send him over the edge.

You relented and chuckled a little before placing a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “I will be on my best behavior, but only because you will worry yourself ill.” You teased. “It can’t be too bad if I just deliver your message and leave. I better get going though. Can’t leave a prince waiting.” You snorted. As if you cared what a prince thought.

————————

Oberyn Martell lied in his temporary bed at the brothel, Ellaria Sand at his right, a blond haired boy on his left. He was the picture of lustful bliss, his golden chest glistened as the small rays of light entered the sinful den. But the prince was quiet deep in thought as he started out into the empty space before them. All the pleasure the brothel had to offer could not break his focus.

“Your thoughts are too loud, my prince.” Ellaria chided as she placed a kiss to his chest. “Tell me.”

Even then, Oberyn still could not break his thoughts of you, but he ran a hand through his paramour’s raven curls in acknowledgment. “I think I found our third partner.”

Next Chapter

[illfoandillfie]

Pet Names, Double Dates and Other Fiascos

READ PLATONICALLY

Request:  SECOND ARO FIC OH MY GOD !!!! maybe them getting a lil dirty and ben really does a number on reader, so he takes her to mcdonalds or sumn and the waiter says something along the lines of “you’re such a cute couple!” and reader gets really uncomfortable with it maybe??? and ben being taking her home and cuddling her PLATONICALLY and he’s like “it’s ok we don’t need to let anyone else’s opinions affect us”

Pairing: Aromantic!Fem!Reader x Ben Hardy

Summary:  It's (nearly) all fun and games until someone assumes your relationship is romantic.

Warnings: Smut, kitchen sex, floor sex, oral sex (f receiving), a mild hint at choking, vaguely dom!Ben but not intentionally lmao, discussions of aromanticism and queerplatonic relationships, not as dialogue heavy as the first part though. 

Words: 7, 264

A/N: Happy Arospec Awareness Week!! Big thanks to the anon who sent in that request when I asked for ideas for future chapters. I put a little bit of a twist on your idea but it’s fundamentally the same. Also the last scene is one that I’ve been thinking about for literal months now and I finally managed to fit it into a fic! 

As always, if you’re curious about anything to do with aromanticism I am very happy to talk about it and answer questions! 

Taglist:  @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @scorpiogemini

The day had started off well. You woke with Ben tucked up under your arm, his legs curled up towards his chest since you’d stole the covers as you’d slept. Your face was pressed against the back of his neck and you felt him shift as you sighed sleepily and tried to keep from waking. Squeezing your eyes shut and pretending you hadn’t stirred must have worked because the next thing you knew was waking up to an empty bed and tinkly tapping sounds from somewhere else in the apartment. Groggily you shuffled out from the inviting comfort of the mattress, stretched, and pulled down the hem of the shirt you’d slept in to better cover your otherwise bare thighs before following the noises. You found Ben, still in his pyjamas (well, his boxer briefs) in the kitchen, dropping a couple of toasted waffles onto a plate, humming to himself.

“That for me?” you asked, stifling a yawn. “It can be,” he said, passing the plate to you with a quick kiss on your cheek, “There’s some cut up fruit and the maple syrup out on the coffee table and there’s coffee brewing over there,” “Thanks Benny,” “You’re welcome, Puddin’,” “Puddin’?” “I thought it was cute,” “Very cute.” You laughed as you reached for your coffee, unable to help but smile as you left the room. The first few months of your partnership had taken some adjusting and one thing Ben had decided he would do to make you both feel more at home with the dynamic was to come up with some non-romantic based terms of endearment for you. You’d vetoed things like baby and honey straight away, all of them a little too heavily skewed towards romance, or just reminders of past relationships you’d tried to force yourself into, for you to enjoy them. But, as Ben had said, he liked a good pet name, and he’d seemingly been determined to prove as much, constantly coming up with new things to call you. You, never really one for pet names anyway, mostly stuck with Benny or Benjamin if the situation called for something longer but you had a few other go-tos – things like Pet and Blondie as signs of affection, or Handsome and Tiger when you wanted to make him blush.

A few minutes later Ben joined you on the couch, placing his coffee down beside yours, almost spilling it as he watched the news story that was playing. “Remember we’ve got that double date with Jill and Martin this afternoon,” you said, the memory only just coming to you yourself. “Yeah, what time was that?” “Hang on, I’ll check the chat.” You scrolled through the messages on your phone with one hand while you ate with the other, “uhhh right, yeah, meeting at the bowling alley at 1.30.” “Bowling? Good, better than another shitty movie,” You laughed, “hey the last one they picked wasn’t too bad.” “Yeah I know, just not in the mood for it since I’ve been on set all week. I know if I went to the cinema now I’d just get distracted thinking about all the behind the scenes stuff which isn’t ideal for becoming invested in the story. Plus they’re always choosing romcoms, doesn’t that get annoying for you?” “Not really,” you shrugged, “I mean, do I sometimes wish they’d branch out? Sure. But I enjoy romance in fiction I just don’t need it in my real life. Don’t get me wrong though, very happy to do something different this time.” “How long d’you think we’ll be out?” You shrugged, “A few hours maybe?” “We should pop to the shop on the way back then. You need milk and we could get something nice for dinner.” “Sounds good. Does that mean you’re staying over again tonight?” “I was planning to, yeah. Barely saw you last week so I was hoping to spend all weekend with you to make up for it.” “Bet you regret agreeing to go out with them now,” “Kinda. S’pose it’s too late to cancel though,” “Nah you still could but you know they’ll get stroppy about it and we’ll have to go out with them next week. They don’t have any other couple friends since Neil and Percy split and Bianca took her fella overseas.” “Yeah, wasn’t seriously suggesting it.” “What would the plan have been if we did cancel?” Ben chewed a mouthful of fruit thoughtfully, “you, me, your bed. No need to be too quiet since Sophie’s still out,” he glanced at your roommate’s bedroom door, his eyes swinging back to you as he continued, “Or y’know, we could do a puzzle and listen to music all day, have a cat nap after lunch, whatever.” “You’re cute when you’re being all lazy,” “There would be nothing lazy about it thank you very much,” “Cat naps aren’t lazy?” “You know that’s not the part I was talking about,” “It wasn’t? Then what won’t be lazy,” you tried to hold back a giggle in the middle of your faux confusion but broke when Ben blew a raspberry at you in response.

Nothing more was said about cancelling as you finished your breakfast, though truthfully you probably wouldn’t have minded if Ben had cried off sick and rescheduled the double date. But you both decided that Sunday would be a day for just the two of you to make up for having to spend Saturday afternoon with others. Instead, you spoke of the week just passed and commented on the news still playing on the TV. When you were finished (Ben using the last corner of one of his waffles to swipe the remnant syrup from his plate) you stood and stacked the sticky dishes in your arms. Ben collected the coffee cups and a few other assorted dishes from the previous night, leading the way towards the kitchen and the dishwasher. He loaded his small collection onto the shelves before turning to grab the top plate from the pile you held. A noise of disgust rose from his throat as you held the plate out and he miscalculated the trajectory, his palm landing in a puddle of syrup and fruit juice. You were torn between laughing at his expression and taking the opportunity to toy with him a little but, always ready to tease him, your desire to see him blush won out. Trying not to smile too much, you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his wrist, pulling his palm closer so you could lick the sweet syrup from his skin. Predictably his cheeks turned pink and he pulled his lip between his teeth as you let him go with a laugh. “Bet you’re really wishing we didn’t have to go out now, huh Tiger?” Ben didn’t respond but he did react, his eyes locked on you as he swiped his fingers along the same plate and held them out in offering. Not quite sure where things were heading but very keen on finding out, you leaned forward and let your lips part slightly. He took the action for what it was, an invitation, and trailed his fingertips across your lower lip before slipping them between the two. He watched closely as you sucked his fingers deeper, using your tongue to lick up the sweet residue. There was still an element of novelty with this aspect of your partnership. Still part of you that was intensely aware that it was Ben’s fingers in your mouth. There wasn’t any hesitation though, hadn’t been since that first time when you’d both had to psych yourselves up to actually look at each other naked. But there was a part of your brain that was almost surprised when you found yourselves at the edge of a sexual situation. You suspected he was similarly discombobulated by how easy it was for you to end up there, how frequently playful teasing and friendly jokes turned into hands grasping at bed sheets and breathless moans against sweat-slick skin. He pulled his fingers free from your lips, unwilling or perhaps unable to shift his gaze away from the thin string of saliva that connected them like some kind of erotic spider web that you were both already caught in. You waited to see what he’d do next, feeling your heart race in the pregnant pause so full of potential. And then he moved. You laughed as he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you at the same moment he stepped towards the bench, your legs instinctively wrapping around him. He kissed you too, hungrily, as if it were impossible to resist. You’d looked down at him and suddenly been pulled towards each other, lips meeting with all the force and attraction of a magnetic field. Usually, he would have had a hand against the back of your head or your jaw but carrying you meant both his hands were already occupied so instead you substituted your own, tangling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep him from pulling away too far. As soon as you were safely positioned on the edge of the bench though his hands were free to fall elsewhere. One pressed against the small of your back as the other squeezed your thigh, encouraging you to keep your legs spread. Not that you could have closed them with Ben standing between them and not that the thought had even crossed your mind.

If you’d had all day Ben probably would have taken his time with you. Despite what he’d said earlier, you’d discovered Ben had a soft spot for slow and sensual intimacy. Making out that gradually built to passionate kiss-filled sex, foreplay that included soft caresses and whispered praise, anything that let him explore your body in intricate detail with his hands and lips. You’d been with guys like that before and had hated their insistence on linking hands and kissing you slowly. Those relationships never lasted long but with Ben it felt different, it felt good. Maybe it was because he knew you weren’t on board with overtly romantic acts and respected those boundaries you’d talked about so you never felt as if he were pushing you into a roll you didn’t enjoy. Or maybe he was just a better lover than they had been. Either way, it came to same result. You still preferred something less gentle and more energetic, though you felt you better understood the appeal of being held so close and kissed so tenderly. But with only a few hours before you’d have to start getting ready, Ben was inclined to speed things up a little. His hand quickly slipped up your thigh to press against your pussy, the cotton knickers you’d slept in the only thing keeping him from direct contact. You broke the kiss suddenly, the smacking sound loud in the small room, and dipped your head to press your lips to the notch between his clavicles. In response, Ben lifted his chin, exposing more of his throat to you and you took the chance to playfully nip at the junction where his neck and shoulder met. “Oi, no marks,” he said lwoly as you moved to kiss back up towards his jaw. “Afraid I’ll brand you with my initials?” “If you could legibly write your initials in hickeys I’d put up with whatever teasing the makeup ladies gave me,” “I’ll give it a crack then shall I?” Before you could so much as flick your tongue over his skin, Ben had raised a hand and placed it over your mouth to keep you from testing our your writing abilities, “Don’t think theres enough time, Sugar, but if you really want to I’ll let you try tonight, on my thigh where no one is likely to see it.” “Make it your arse and you’ve got a deal,” you said though it was a little muffled by his palm. “Fine,” he laughed, drawing his hand away, “But then I get to try it on you too,” You nodded, grinning, and then both fell into giggles, leaning against each other’s shoulders. This was what you’d hoped for when Ben had first approached you with the idea of being partners, what you’d been afraid you’d never actually find. Someone who would follow your tangential jokes even if it delayed sex. Someone you could be yourself with. You were distracted from the thought as Ben pressed his lips to your shoulder over the sleeve of your shirt. “Should I continue?” he asked, still smiling though softer, his fingertips lightly dancing over the crease of your thigh. “I’d be offended if you didn’t” “Can’t have that,” he leaned in to catch your lips once again, at the same time resuming stroking you over your panties so that you felt all the air leave your lungs in a rush. It felt good but you need more and so shifted your hips, trying to press yourself harder against his fingers. To get more leverage and better brace yourself as your centre of gravity changed, you dropped a hand behind you. Intuitively, Ben shifted the hand on your back higher and closer to your side to help keep you steady, the other still drawing lines along your clothed slit. You gasped as his thumb took up residence against your clit, rubbing it firmly so a visible damp patch began to form on your panties.

Ben grinned at you as your breath came harder and dragged his thumb back down away from your clit towards the leg of your underwear. Still watching your reactions, he twisted his fingers up under the material, gently tracing them along the same path they’d just followed only now he could feel your wetness directly. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, leaning close to your ear, as he circled your entrance with a fingertip before pressing it into you, “of how I’d like to fuck you right now. It might take a little flexibility on your part though. I mean, nothing too much, just getting your legs up on my shoulders.” Curious, and more than a little distracted by the addition of a second finger inside you, you nodded, “Sounds fun.” “Knew you’d say that. Just tell me if it’s too uncomfortable,” “Will do.” You leaned forward as Ben moved back a little, taking his fingers with him, giving you enough room to drop your hand to his crotch and grasp his stiff length through his undies, “Just get on with it.” “Puddin’ was too nice a nickname for you. Sugar too.” he gasped as you dragged your palm along his length and back again. “What’s the matter, Tiger?” “Maybe I should call you Tiger, if you’re going to keep grabbing my cock like that,” You laughed and let him go, leaning back on your palm again, “Tigress? Whatever, doesn’t matter. Are you going to fuck me or not?” “No I just wanted to get my dick hard for no reason,” he said sarcastically, poking his tongue out at you as he pushed his underwear down. “You’re such a –” you broke off with a sharp gasp as Ben tugged your underwear aside and pressed into you without warning, “dork.” Ben chucked and leaned in to kiss you quickly before readjusting your position a little by pulling you closer to him so your arse was right against the edge of the bench. Slowly he rolled his hips against you, pulling back and thrusting forward again, finding a rhythm that worked. You leaned back on both palms as Ben grabbed you by the waist, the other resting on your knee to keep it pressed against his side. “This feel alright?” he asked as he gave another thrust, hitting a spot deep inside you. “Mmhmm,” you nodded, able to feel yourself growing wetter with each stroke of his cock. “What about this?” Ben shifted first one of your legs and then the other to his shoulders, encouraging you to bend them at the knee. His hands moved to your sides, fingertips digging into your back as he pressed you even closer. The effect was that you felt as if you were almost folded in half but it wasn’t too uncomfortable. There was an almost weightless feeling to it and any slight awkwardness you felt with your chest meeting your thighs was a small price to pay for just how good Ben felt once again moving inside you. You tightened your fingers against the benchtop, wishing there was something you could grab onto as your whole body rocked with each of his thrusts, the position allowing him to penetrate you deeply, continuously brushing against a number of spots that sent electric spikes of pleasure through you. “Fuck,” was about all you could think to say. “That a good fuck?” Ben questioned, voice gruff with his exertions. “Yeah, yes, fuck, so good,” “So you like when I do this?” You let out a soft moan as he roughly fucked into you again, timing it just right. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he half laughed, turning his head to kiss your leg before leaning forward to catch your lips again. After that there wasn’t much room for talking. Ben, having assured himself that you were happy, speeded up his rhythm, clutching you tightly to keep your legs from slipping off his shoulders. His breathing became rougher, matching your own, as he drove into you, though he still kissed you as much as he could, panting against your lips, swallowing your moans and pushing whatever air he had into your lungs.

You could feel your orgasm bubbling up, like a pot of water on the verge of boiling, but knew Ben would reach his first, recognising his expression as the one he wore when he was trying to hold back from the edge. “Fu-ck you’re s-so tight,” he grunted, squeezing his eyes shut as he leaned his forehead against yours, “gonna have to pull out soon,” You could feel him pulling away and tightened your calves on either side of his neck in an effort to stop him, needing just a little more to reach your own release. “Not helping,” he groaned, suddenly unable to hold off any longer, “Shit. Y/N.” You whined as he stilled to shoot his release over your walls. “Jesus,” he said a little breathlessly, as he pulled out, your underwear slipping back over you, and rubbed his neck absentmindedly, “Didn’t expect that to finish me off. Did you…?” You shook your head, letting your leg slip to be caught in the crook of Ben’s arm. “Well let’s fix that, shall we,” he said, already letting you go to bend forward, his face right between your thighs. You felt a puff of his hot breath against you as he hooked his index finger into the crotch of your knickers, pulling it aside, and then his tongue was on you, lapping up your arousal and coming to rest against your clit. He set up camp there, focusing all his attention on the small nub. You let yourself drop back so you were holding yourself up on one elbow, your other hand on the back of Ben’s head, tugging on his hair as he drew a series of moans from you. With a particularly firm suck, you felt your cunt pulse and something warm and wet ran from you, dripping over the edge of the bench onto the cupboard door. You had an idea what it was so it surprised you when Ben released your clit to lick between your lips, catching it with his tongue and spreading it along your slit. “We taste good together,” he mumbled, going in to trace the same path over again, greedily licking up the mixture. You swore under your breath, feeling yourself right on the edge of your orgasm, unspeakably turned on by Ben lapping up the load he’d just left in you. Sensing how close you were he dragged his tongue over your clit again, quickly sliding two fingers into you to help you along. You whined his name as he pushed you over the edge, continuing to pump his fingers into you as he again sucked at your clit, not stopping until he was sure it had worked. “Thank you,” you said as he straightened up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re such a dork,” he laughed as he kissed you again, tracing his tongue over yours. The man clearly wanted you lightheaded from lack of air. “Shut up,” you pushed yourself to sit up straight again, expecting Ben to step away and let you hop down from the bench. He didn’t though, instead absentmindedly toying with the leg of your underwear as his gaze fell to your lips. “Seriously?” Ben shrugged, “Eating you out made me hard again. And,” he quickly ran his fingers along the edge of the bench, collecting some of the mess you’d left there, “I think it’s only fair you should taste us too,” If he’s said it less earnestly you might have batted his hand away and laughed off the suggestion but something about his tone made you grab his wrist to pull his fingers towards your mouth. He hadn’t been wrong, the mix of you both did taste pretty good, though you’d already got a hint of it as he’d kissed you. “Good girl,” he breathed out, eyes heavy with lust, “think you’re up for more?” “Can we move elsewhere? The edge of the counter is digging into me.” “Okay,” Ben began tugging your underwear down and kicked off his own before pulling your shirt over your head, making you laugh. He Helped you stand and then immediately pushed you to the floor. For a moment you thought he was suggesting you give him a blowjob and were about to question him but half a second later he was following you down, laying down and pulling you on top. “I meant like the bed or the couch at least,” you said somewhere between incredulity and amusement. “Too far,” he grunted, bucking his hips to encourage you to mount him properly, “need you now.” You rolled your eyes as you sank down onto his dick, “Do I actually get to cum this time or…?” “Only if you move,” Ben growled as he grasped your hips and pulled you down onto him, making you cry out at the unexpectedly sudden sensation of being filled. He let you ride him for a bit, alternating between squeezing your thigh as he rubbed his thumb over your clit and cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples as he encouraged you to fuck yourself on his cock faster. You kept to the same steady pace though, intending to drag it out a little, make him wait. But it wasn’t long before he got fed up with the deliberately slow pace you’d cultivated. Without warning you found yourself on your back, Ben grasping your thighs as he kneeled over you, pulling your hips up a little so he could fuck you the way he wanted. Your voice shook as you moaned and writhed in his shadow, your own fingers dancing over your clit to keep building your orgasm. “Isn’t that better?” he said roughly, laughing a little as you nodded your agreement, “Making me wish I had cancelled our plans. Could stay in your pussy all day.” You whimpered and rubbed your clit harder. “C’mon Pumpkin, so close aren’t ya,” You squeezed your eyes shut, moaning when you finally tipped over the edge. But that didn’t stop Ben. He waited until your orgasm had subsided and then pushed your legs wide and up into the air so he could lay directly on top of you as he continued to pound you. Your voice shook as a moan was pulled from your throat and you squirmed beneath him, feeling yourself once again being drawn towards release. There was something about his weight pressing down on you, his breath against your ear. Something about how close he seemed, almost panting as his hips stuttered in and out of the rhythm he was desperately trying to hold on to. He mouthed at your neck as you tilted your head to accommodate him, reaching a hand down to squeeze his arse cheek. You were sore from every other way he’d fucked you, tired from the two orgasms he’d already wrung from you, and yet the thought of stopping him, of ending the incredible pleasure you felt at his hands, was the furthest thing from your mind. A scream caught in your throat as he seemed to press you even harder into the floor, your legs shaking in the air as he grit his teeth and grunted with each harsh drive into you. And then he came, gasping against your throat as he felt you cum too, finally releasing the scream you’d been holding onto until the noise turned to breaths so ragged they felt like sobs.

Ben kissed your throat and then your jaw as he came back to earth, still laying on you. “How was that?” he asked softly when you’d remained quiet for a while. You drew in a deep breath, “Pum-Pumpkin?” “What?” “You called me fucking Pumpkin of all things, while trying to get me off?” “So?” “Jesus Ben,” you half-heartedly swatted at his side, “you’re lucky I was so close that it didn’t matter otherwise I might have laughed and completely lost the orgasm.”   Ben joined in your laughter, the sensation of his shaking body on top of yours slightly odd but mostly quite comforting. Until he shifted his hips without thinking and made you wince. “Sorry,” he said, pressing his lips to yours again as if to kiss away the discomfort before he gingerly pulled out of you and sat back on his knees, “But you did cum that time, right?” “I think you know I did,” you sighed, already able to see what was coming, as you let your legs drop to the floor. “So wait, how many times exactly?” You sighed and shook your head slightly. “Because if my maths is right, I think we got you to three times. Once on the bench and twice on the floor. One plus two is three, yes?” “Yes that’s how basic addition works Ben,”  “And who was it again that got you to three orgasms? Was it,” he pointed a finger as his one chest, “Moi?” “Alright asshole, you’re very impressive and a somewhat decent shag,” “I think you could be a little more grateful considering that performance. Might have been my best ever moves,” You pushed Ben in the middle of the chest, exaggeratedly rolling your eyes but, truthfully you were inclined to agree that it had been his best performance yet, at least in your experience. “Here let me help you,” he chuckled as you tried to stand, almost falling over as your legs shook. Quickly, Ben pushed himself to his feet and then offered you a hand up too, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady. “Thanks,” “I hope I haven’t made it too hard for you to walk. Wouldn’t want to throw off your bowling cos you were fucked so right.” “Jesus Christ,” you couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the time you had before you had to leave was spent tidying up the kitchen, cleaning up the evidence of the mornings activities in case your roommate got home before you, washing up and getting ready to go. Which is really when things started to go downhill. If you’d realised you might have told yourself to stay home, come up with a quick excuse to get out of it and just played video games with Ben for the rest of the day or something. But there was no way to know what was coming so you didn’t. You talked happily as you got into Ben’s car (which was already parked on the street), excited to see your friends and looking forward to the afternoon.

The double date itself was quite fun, although draining. There was always an element of playing pretend at these sorts of occasions. Not that you minded so much. It was either play up the romance of your relationship or have to explain what you were to everyone and a few hours of pretending Ben was your boyfriend was honestly much simpler. At least bowling was better than the cinema. The first time you’d gone on a double date to a movie you’d sat down beside Ben, the popcorn you were sharing balanced on the arm rest between you. Martin and Jill had raised their armrest and were virtually sitting on top of each other, hands entwined. Which would have been fine except Martin had leaned over and said, “you know these things move” and looked expectantly at you. Ben and you had shared a glance and then tried to say you were both fine with the space but they’d given you matching looks that said they thought you were being weird or prudish or judging their willingness to cuddle in public. So you’d relented and shifted the armrest so you could spend the next two hours sitting with Ben’s arm around your shoulders, both of you more tense about the situation than you ever would have been if you’d just been allowed to sit in your seats like normal. Things had improved a bit since then. Ben had told you that one night when you’d gone out to a bar together, Martin had pulled him aside as asked why he never kissed you properly. Ben had shrugged and said he didn’t like PDAs, that he didn’t want photos to spread or anything like that, especially since it was still so new, and Martin had accepted it. They began to see that your ways of being affectionate were quieter, stealing sips from each other’s drinks, a warm hand against a knee, dumb nicknames that made you both laugh. Even if Jill did sometimes still try to convince you that there was nothing wrong with snogging in the middle of a busy street. Nonetheless you never felt fully able to relax when it was just the four of you. Always conscious of how they saw you, always worried that they’d decide you weren’t being affectionate enough and would tell everyone else you were going through a rough patch which would lead to more scrutiny. While at the same time worrying that one of them would start asking how serious it was between you and Ben, were you thinking about the future? Could you see yourselves moving in together? Was he the one? And it took a lot of energy to constantly be alert about what you were saying, always careful to not accidentally give away the secret truth of the situation. Bowling was fun though and less pressure than other double dates you’d been on. You could get away with not holding hands or sitting on Ben’s lap since everyone was standing up frequently and it didn’t make sense to be on top of one another. You could share small pecks on the lips or else tight hugs to celebrate strikes. And Ben made sure to tease you for missed pins, just like he always had, with a few added silly nicknames. He called you his sweet little hotdog after a particularly bad gutter shot which had made you laugh so hard you choked on your drink, and made Jill give him a disapproving glance. He’d smoothed it over by letting her overhear him saying he loved you, whispering the platonically just for you.

By the time Jill had been declared the winner of the game, you were ready to head home and spend a night forwarding Ben weird videos and dumb memes. Ready to be allowed to just exist without needing to be romantically linked to anyone. But it wasn’t quite to be. Martin made the suggestion that all of you should head to McDonalds for dinner and before you knew it you were standing in line, waiting for the kid at the cash register to serve you. You leaned your head on Ben’s shoulder as you stared at the menu, and vaguely wondered how someone working in a fast food joint could be so bright and bubbly. Right up until Ben nudged you and asked what you wanted. “Um, can I get a quarter pounder and a frozen coke, thanks.” “And?” Ben supplied. “And what?” “Y/N I know you want dessert, get dessert.” “And an Oreo McFlurry,” you smiled and bumped Ben’s shoulder with yours as he laughed and finished paying. “You guy’s make a cute couple,” the girl who’d served you said, eyes following the path of Ben’s gaze to you, still smiling. She seemed to realise what she’d said, her ears turning red, but Ben thanked her and added, “I think I have to agree,” as he squeezed your hip, before moving away so Jill and Martin could order. You’d smiled at her too but it wasn’t quite genuine.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to it, people assuming you and Ben were in fact a couple. You were. One or two weeks after you’d first agreed to try out being queerplatonic partners, most of your friends had put two and two together and worked out that something was going on between you. Of course they didn’t know you were aromantic and they probably didn’t have any idea what a QPR was so they’d really added two and two and got five but you weren’t about to correct them. As you’d said to Ben, it was too much too soon to do that. Maybe if the QPR thing worked out long term, maybe then you could tell them. And besides, they weren’t exactly wrong anyway. They’d originally assumed you and Ben were just hooking up after Martin had dropped in to pick up something he’d left at Ben’s and had seen you spread out on Ben’s couch with sex hair and a rather large hickey on your neck and Ben’s sweater hanging off your shoulder. He’d asked Ben who’d just shrugged in response and said it wasn’t a big deal. You estimated it took about a minute and a half to reach everyone else. The next time you’d gone out as a group you’d felt them all watching you and Ben closely, trying to determine if Martin with bullshitting them all or not. They’d all decided it was just sex though. Until you were clearly still together a month later and they decided it had to be serious since Ben had never successfully fucked a girl for that long without catching feelings. That was when they started referring to you as boyfriend and girlfriend. That was also when the comments about how cute you were or how they’d always known you’d get together had first started. The first few times you’d heard it, it felt weird but you figured that was just because it was you and Ben and you were still working out how to be partners without the romance. You’d been in relationships before though and didn’t have any major objections to anything they said so you found it fairly easy to deal with and mostly you didn’t notice it anymore.

Except now it was bothering you. Something about the girl’s comment had rubbed you the wrong way. Which made you feel bad because she was just a kid with a shitty minimum wage job who didn’t know you from Adam. She had no idea. She was just trying to say something nice to a couple of strangers. You supposed your dislike of the comment probably had something to do with spending all afternoon putting on the romantic act for the benefit of your friends. Maybe even something about the sex from earlier. Probably just exhaustion from everything, a shorter fuse. It could even just be PMS though you’d have to check how far off your next period was to be sure. Whatever the reason it felt…not wrong exactly just off. You stayed quiet during most of the meal, aware you weren’t being great company and aware that Ben had realised something was wrong since he kept glancing at you when the other two weren’t looking. “Y/N,” Jill’s voice cut through your thoughts, “Still with us?” “Yeah,” you said, pulling a smile onto your face, “sorry, just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep well last night,” That statement was met by high pitched oohing noises and Martin jokily reprimanding Ben for keeping you up. You forced yourself to laugh with them, “Not like that you pervs. Ben was filming a night scene yesterday so didn’t actually get to mine until what,” you looked to Ben for confirmation, “One-thirty was it?” “Something like that. I don’t know I fell asleep almost as soon as I put my head down.” “Me, not so much,” you shrugged, “It’s all just catching up with me now.” They accepted that excuse without question and didn’t aim too many more comments in your direction, letting you finish your food without having to keep your mind on their conversation. And pretty soon you were hugging them goodbye and promising you’d organise the next date as Martin told Ben to get you home to bed before you fell asleep in your ice cream.

Ben waited until you were safely back inside your apartment before he asked if you were okay. “We were meant to get milk,” you sighed, trying to push away the annoyingly persistent discomfort. “I’ll go out later and get some. Or we can get Sophie to bring some back when she comes home. Are you okay though?” Unsure if this was a situation where you’d want space, Ben hovered at a respectful distance until you stepped in close and leaned your head against his chest. As soon as he knew you wanted him there he wrapped his arms tightly around you, “What’s wrong?” “Not sure. Think it all just got a bit much.” “How do you mean?” You shrugged as much as his embrace would allow and talked against his chest as you tried your best to explain how flat you felt, “I think the girl who served us was just like the straw that broke the camel’s back, y’know.” “Did me agreeing with her make things worse?” You shook your head, “Don’t think so. I knew you meant it in a different way to her. Besides, the other two were in earshot so there wasn’t much else you could say.” “You know that what everyone else thinks of us doesn’t change anything about what we have, right, or what we mean to each other. It doesn’t change who you are.” You didn’t mean to say it but the words had escaped before you could stop them, “Wouldn’t it be easier if it did though.” “But then you wouldn’t be you and I love you, platonically.” You smiled and nodded as you stepped back a little, though Ben’s arms wouldn’t let you go too far, “I know, thank you. And I’m fine, just having a bit of an off afternoon.” “Are you sure? Is there anything else I can do to help?” “No, you’ve been perfect.” You leaned up to give him a quick kiss, “And I know I’m being stupid about it. I knew what I was signing up for when I decided not to come out to them. Besides, being back home with you has definitely made me feel better already.” “Do you want a cuppa or anything?” “Nah, think I might just go lie down and read for bit. Decompress a little, y’know.” “Okay. Give me a shout if you want anything, yeah,” he pressed a kiss to your temple and give you an extra squeeze before he let you go.

Slowly you headed to your bedroom, kneeling down at your bookshelf and running your fingers along the spines until you found the one you wanted. That particular book had seen better days. It’s spine was cracked, the image on the cover peeling away from the cardboard underneath. More than one page had begun to fray around the edges like an ancient treasure map in a cartoon, with little triangles missing and the corners permanently creased where they’d been dog eared a hundred times. But as you settled into the bed, Ben’s pillow still smelling faintly of his hair pomade, you began to feel more yourself. Ben was right. What other people thought of your relationship didn’t matter. He was still your Ben, the same Ben who’s hoodie had been living in your cupboard for years now because he spent so much time at yours anyway it just made sense to keep a spare there. The same Ben who’d bought you your favourite pair of sunglasses when you’d left your old ones at home by accident. The same Ben who’d gradually been reading his way through your entire bookshelf rather than buying his own paperbacks. You had too much history there and too much love for each other for anyone else’s opinions to matter. And your partnership was good. It made you happy so it had to be good.

The time passed quickly as you read so when you looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps and saw that a couple of hours had passed, you were a little taken aback. Ben poked his head round the corner and then stepped through the doorway when he saw you looked better. “Nice to see you smiling again,” he said softly as he crawled up beside you. Without thinking you lifted your arm so he could snuggle against you, his head on your chest. “What’re you reading?” “First Test by Tamora Pierce. First book in her Protector of the Small series.” “What’s it about?” “A girl training to become a knight. Gran bought it for me as a kid while we were on a holiday at the seaside.” Ben glanced at the worn pages, “Do you reread it a lot?” “Yeah a bit. The main character, Kel, is like the only aromantic character I know of so she’s kinda important to me.” “The main character’s aro?” “I mean, not explicitly. It was published in ’99 and the terminology to describe aro experiences didn’t really start being used until like the late 2000s and even then only in certain communities online. But Tamora Pierce did answer some questions on her website and said that as she was writing the series Kel became less and less interested in romance and sex so even though she didn’t have the words for it back then, she would consider Kel aro and probably ace too. And I mean, rereading them I definitely feel an aro sort of reaction to a lot of the romance stuff, even when Kel does start kissing boys and all that.” Ben leaned back to better see your face, “Will you read to me?” You leaned down to kiss him, unhurriedly, softly, letting your lips linger on his. “Is that a yes?” “That was a sorry I’ve been weird this evening kiss actually.” “Don’t worry about it,” he said simply, snuggling back down, his head once again resting on your chest and his arm thrown over your waist. You adjusted your grip on the book and began to read from where you’d left off, one hand running absentmindedly through his hair, both of you sighing softly as you relaxed into each other.

[onewithnomightypowers]

clandestine (chapter 2)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 2: portrait of a dinner

A/N:  the characters in no way portray how these ppl are in real life. i do not encourage cheating. i hope you guys like this chapter!! i would love to know how you guys feel about the story. feedback is always appreciated.

warnings: drinking, smoking, cursing

word count: 1.6k

important: the whole chapter is a flashback, character thoughts are in bold italics

masterlist   series masterlist   chapter 1   chapter 3

“I rent a place on Cornelia street”, Tom said casually in the car. They were sitting in the backseat of a black town car, going for their shoot. Y/N had suggested that they travel together, in an attempt to get to know each other better. She said, “It would help with the on screen chemistry”, the whole production team agreed. But that did not become a norm for them, mostly because of their different call times.

Both of them had hectic filming schedules and only saw each other when they had scenes together. Sometimes they would bump into each other at the craft service, but otherwise, they were on their own.

During the last few weeks of filming, Tom had started getting her coffee. He had noticed how she took her coffee during the shooting. Black with one sugar.

“There you go”, Tom handed her the coffee. “Thanks Tom.” He gave her a smile. She was walking towards the door, and Tom started following her behind.

“I’m going to hair and makeup, do you wanna tag along?” she asked him.

“Sure, I have a 15 minute break anyway”

“Have you seen Hot Rod? I watched it last night” she didn’t know why she asked that silly question. She found it embarrassing.

“That Andy Samberg movie, right?” Tom nodded, “Yeah I watched it a long time ago, it’s a classic”

“I totally watched it for Bill Hader” She found herself easing up to him.

“Valid reason. Loved him on SNL. Do you know Stefon? from SNL?” She reached for the door handle, a gush of cold air was felt by both of them.

“Don’t even get me started on Stefon. I used to watch Stefon compilations on YouTube all the time. It became a problem” she chuckled, remembering how Haz used to get pissed off whenever she’d talk in a ‘Stefon’ tone.

Oh, I love it when she chuckles like that. I wish I could kiss her. NO. She is fucking married, Tom.

“Yes yes yes, New York’s hottest club is…” Tom tried to imitate Bill Hader as Stefon. He looked around a bit and pointed towards the paparazzi, who were trying to take pictures of anything worth money. “New York’s hottest club is paparazzi” he continued.

“If paparazzi is the hottest club, then I’m fine staying at home” Y/N was laughing so hard that she couldn’t breathe. She clutched Tom’s arm to avoid falling down while trying to contain her laughter. She hadn’t had a good laugh with Haz in a long time.

--

Tom found himself at Y/N’s doorsteps with cheap wine he bought from the convenience store last minute. Y/N had invited Tom and his partner for dinner during the last week of shooting.

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone actually, but my lonely heart and I will be there”, Tom replied to Y/N’s invitation.

He rang the bell and waited for someone to open the door. Tom was met by Haz’ charming smile, as he opened the door. Tom could see right through his fake smile. Clueless to Y/N and Haz’ fight prior, he entered the two story building.

“Why did you invite him without asking me?” Haz screamed, slamming the plates on the table.

“I didn’t think you’d be home tonight, you never are” Y/N replied in the same tone as Haz

“So you were going to have dinner with him, alone?”

“Yes” she said in a crude way.

“Are you fucking him?” Just as Haz asked her, the doorbell rang.

It would be better fucking him than fucking you. At least he’ll be home.

Y/N entered the kitchen leaving Haz to open the door. “You must be Tom” said Haz, in his most likeable voice.

“Yeah and you must be Haz. I got this for you guys”, Tom handed him the wine bottle.

He’s a bloody hotshot and brought us cheap wine.

“Hey Tom, I’m so glad you could make it”, Y/N said, taking Tom in for a hug. She could feel Haz burning a hole behind her head with his gaze.

She pulled out of the hug, “do you want red or white wine?”

“Red”, Harrison and Tom said in unison. Y/N let out a little chuckle and went into the kitchen. Tom started noticing the little things in their house, like how there were film and Polaroid cameras scattered everywhere. There was a vinyl shelf right above an old golden gramophone, adjacent to their brown leather couch.

He noticed a collage of pictures and recognised some of the photos from the time they were taken on set. There was one with him and Y/N. He felt a sense of pride knowing that their picture hung on Y/N’s wall and the possibility of her looking at it every day.

“So, what do you wanna hear?” Harrison was standing next to their vinyl collection. “Since Y/N lives here, we have everything Taylor Swift, I don’t suppose you’re into that pop shit, are you?”

“Actually I do like pop but more like alt-pop”

Harrison wasn’t surprised. He seemed like a ‘Beach House’ kinda guy anyway, to him.

“So you like alt-pop?” Y/N walked towards the boys with two glasses of red wine in her hands. “Have you heard of ‘peter cat recording co.’?” she asked Tom

“Yes I have! Oh, I thought nobody knew about them. I’m glad I found you”, Tom was filled with giddy excitement.

“PCRC it is, then”, Haz said in an annoyed tone. He grabbed the vinyl of ‘portrait of a time’, their first album, and placed it on the gramophone.

“Babe, where is your glass?” Haz asked Y/N.

“Oh I, shit I left it in the kitchen”

“No worries I’ll get it”, Haz kissed her cheek and left the living room.

Even though Y/N knew it was fake niceties, she still craved it. It felt nice, behaving like a normal couple instead of fighting over every damn thing, and him storming out of the house almost every night. Sometimes she felt that Harrison was a hypocrite. He would accuse her of cheating with every guy in her life, but wouldn’t be home nine out of ten times.

They were now seated on their wooden dining table, with dried flowers in the middle. Haz and Y/N were sitting opposite to Tom. There was Chinese takeout in their fancy china.

“Sorry about the take out, neither of us are good at cooking and we didn’t want you getting sick”, Y/N tried to justify the absence of a home cooked meal.

“It’s fine as long as I’m getting fed”, Tom chuckled.

“No actually all this food is only for Y/N and me”, Haz said, trying to sound serious.

That was a bad joke, all of them thought.

There was an awkward silence. Haz cleared his throat, “So Y/N, are you seeing someone?”

“Haz, you can’t just ask someone that!”

“It’s okay Y/N. No Haz, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” Tom said, blushing at the personal question.

“So you are single”, Haz said looking at Y/N, in an attempt to imply that she might be having an affair with him.

Trying to hide her annoyance, Y/N started serving the food. The rest of the dinner was normal. They talked about the movie and Haz did not spontaneously combust. In Y/N’s mind, it was near to a success. When Tom started to leave, Y/N offered to drop him to his apartment building, but he settled on walking him one block.

Y/N grabbed her jacket as they left the house. She pulled out a box of cigarettes from her pocket and offered Tom.

“Oh, I don’t smoke”

Y/N scuffed with a cigarette between her teeth.

“What kind of an English man are you?” she said, lighting her cigarette.

“Well you know it’s a common misconception, we don’t all smoke”

“That’s good to know”, she took a long drag.

“Also you might not like the wine I brought you. I realised pretty late that I should be getting you something because I was visiting your house for the first time, so I bought the best wine I could find in that convenience store”, he pointed towards the store a few metres away from them.

“Its fine, it’ll remind me of my youth”, they both laughed.

“I guess this is one block, you should go back home now”, Tom said while trying hail a cab by waving his right hand frantically, at the edge of the curb. He looked ridiculous.

“You clearly have never done this before” she laughed at him, turning Tom’s face red.

She stepped off the curb, to be seen clearly by the oncoming traffic, put out her arm and a cab was there in seconds.

“So I guess I’ll see you around” he said while pulling Y/N into a hug.

His touch made her hyper aware and same could be said for Tom. Y/N started to pull out but stopped half way. It felt like they were both looking inside each other’s soul through their eyes.

“Ay, lovebirds, you comin or not”, the cab driver screamed making them break away. He got in and Y/N closed the door for him. That’s when her phone pinged.

Haz: where are you, I’m going out.

[heavenunderthemoon]

Can we get JJ and daughter reader where the reader bio father comes back

ROOM 286

Warnings: mentions of drug abuse, blood, death, abandonment. 

This piece is extremely angsty, I didn't even mean for it to happen it just kinda came to me while writing last night, enjoy:)

Sanitizer.

It smelled of sanitizer and something else. Something heavy, pulling you down, the scent dragging against the floor as you walked along with it, sneakers hitting the freshly waxed floor with a squeak. What was that smell?

It could have been anything, walking among the halls of that hospital, a hospital you had never been to, a hospital far away from your home, from Quantico.

Blood, maybe. Blood leaving someone else's body, a severe injury or just a small wound. Or blood entering someone else's body. A transfusion, a hope to save someone's life, a wish to stay alive for just a while longer. Blood, scarlet and distinct, heavy and substantial, entering or leaving.

Or death. Perhaps the heaviness was the mere proximity of death that hospitals seemed to have. Hospitals were like a precipice, a border between the living and the dead. Some who entered simply never left, and those who didn't were walking behind you, mirroring your footsteps, following your direction. It was the darkness of death, the souls of those that were lost covering the hospital like a shroud. The weight of those souls, the anger, dread, and our sadness that filled them weighed them down, pulling the hospital with it.

You had never liked hospitals.

"This is his room."

Your mother's voice was taut, laced with pain and something else. Bitterness, maybe? You snuck a glance toward her. She was still dressed in her work clothes, having practically sprinted off the jet to grab you from the house. Her gun was holstered, resting on her hip directly next to her badge that clipped to her belt loop. It gleamed under the fluorescent lights of the hospital, and you looked away, back to your mother's face.

She was crying, albeit small. Tears pooled in her eyes, the bright blue you had stared into for your entire life. Her teeth were sinking into her bottom lip, tiny sniffles escaping every so often, as if attempting to console herself as to not let you hear it. She never liked you to see her cry, not even after those stupid, cheesy romance movies that the two of you rented out every Valentine's Day. The woman was still operating under that archaic belief that once you turned an adult, once you became a parent, your emotions were supposed to simply leave you, become secondary to your child. You wished she wasn't. You wished you could take her hand and let her know she could cry but the entire situation at the moment, the real-life fever dream had you incredibly uncertain of how to handle anything that came next. Your hands clenched in your jacket pockets, glancing back to the room before you.

Room 286.

"Your father is dying, Y/N."

A glance back to Will in the kitchen had made you furrow your brows. The LaMontagne man was whistling as he cooked, fingers clenched around a wooden spoon being used to stir the noodles in the pot. Will was an excellent chef, and you had just gotten your report card back for the first semester- straight A's (and one B, but it was math, and both Will and your mother knew how much you absolutely loathed the subject, and so they took that as a win). The dinner was celebratory in a way, nothing too fancy  you didn't like all the fuss, nor did you want to have to make your mother miss a nice dinner in a restaurant that passed out free breadsticks before a meal (she would argue that any restaurant that did so was, automatically her favorite, no matter if the bread was crappy and stale). And so, pasta at home it was, and you had even negotiated Will's famous peanut-butter cookies for dessert. Henry sat on the counter beside him, giggling at his father's horrible dance moves. They were off-beat, choppy, and out-dated, but it made both Henry and you laugh uncontrollably when he did them, and so he continued.

The sun was just setting and your mother was on a case. She liked to call before bedtime when she was away, enough time to coax Henry into a sleepy stupor, to tell him goodnight, and to let you know how much longer she would be gone. You would tell her about your day, and she hers. The two of you would talk for forty-five minutes if she had time, ten if she didn't. But the sound of your phone ringing at dinnertime hadn't made you think anything was wrong. Perhaps she was calling early, or maybe she just wanted to hear your voice. That happened sometimes too, when the cases were especially heinous.

"What?" You asked confusedly. Will was looking at you with a raised brow, mouthing a 'You okay?', to which you didn't quite have an answer for. Instead, you shrugged, holding up a finger as a signal to give you a minute, before you were exiting the room. The playroom was a mess, Henry rarely ever picked up his toys. You sidestepped two matchbox cars before you stepped on a lego, hissing at the pain and walking over it irritatedly. For as small as he was, he sure could create a mess.

A pregnant pause.

"It's Christopher." Another pause. You were starting to hate those. "Your birthfather... He's dying."

Your breath seemed to have been stolen, and the last of your air hitched in your throat, eyes becoming unfocused. How were you supposed to react to this? You weren't entirely sure. your birth father, a man you didn't know, a stranger, really. You didn't know anything about him.

Horrible thoughts began to flood your mind.

You didn't know what he looked like. You inherited a lot of traits- too many traits, honestly- from your mother, so you had never thought to ask. You were a bit taller than your mother...was that him? Was that his genetics coming into play? What color eyes did he have? What did his smile look like? You didn't know small things either. How did he like his eggs cooked? What method of shoe-tying did he prefer (bunny loops or round-a-bouts)? Dogs or cats? Movies or books? Did he watch T.V. with the captions on or off?  You didn't know his favorite book genre, or band, or what foods he didn't like. You didn't know any of these things about him, about your father.

You knew these things about Will, of course. Because when you thought of 'father', Will was the first thing that came to mind. It had been that way for a while, so perhaps the fulfillment of the 'father' role in your brain was obscuring your mind, but you were wracking your brain to remember the last time you had thought of your brith father. But, then again, maybe you shouldn't have, because now, flashing before your mind were not saccharine , wholesome stories, but memories of empty chairs in audiences, uncelebrated Father's days, and 'Father-daughter' dances with Derek, or Reid, or Hotch.  Sour thoughts and memories of an absentee father who left your mother in the lurch, abandoned her in her time of need, was that bad to think of he was dying? Were you supposed to be nice now? You weren't sure the rules of this arrangement.

"What?" It was weak and strangled, as if someone had clutched your throat right then and there and squeezed.

"He's at Saint Mercer's. It looks like an overdose, he had a stroke. It was too much for his body, and the doctors declared him brain dead. I was his emergency contact, and..." Your mother was speaking, rambling from the tone of her voice. She was in shock, surely, and you were only half-listening.

An overdose.

You wondered what you'd find on the other side of the door.

"Are you ready?"

Your mother was speaking, but she didn't sound like she was...there. You were sure she wasn't. No, she hadn't been there ever since she had gotten you, taken you to that airport, boarded you on the first flight out, planted you both in front of room 286 in Saint Mercer's Hospital. Her eyes were glazed over, as if replaying every single moment with the man she had once known , the man she had created another child, her first child, with. A man she hadn't seen for entirely too long, and a man she hadn't ever expected to see again. A man she wouldn't even recognize, surely, because he wasn't a man when he left. You weren't sure if he had ever become a man. To your mother, he had been a boy, just a boy and a girl, in childish love, until they weren't.

"Are you?" You countered, eyes glued onto the wooden door separating you and a man you should know, but had no relation to.

For the fist time that night, she smiled.

She smiled because despite it being the most unfair situation in the world- a situation in which she was placed as an emergency contact for a man who intentionally left her when she was pregnant with his child (placed as an emergency contact in hopes to either advocate for them to try harder to save his life, or to let him go if need be, which, ironically, he had abandoned her completely without regards to treat her reciprocally)- you were there. You, her shining hope, a silver lining in the entirety of it all. You were the one thing that made her not regret a single decision she had made with the man, made her not regret meeting him in the first place, because she had gotten you. Your hair was shoved into a baseball cap, Will's, she recognized. It usually hung on the coat rack by the door, the man tugging it on whenever he went to the store or to pick Henry up from school. It was sun-damaged, tearing at the lip, but he refused to buy a new one because 'that just means it was well-loved, JJ.'. And now it sat on your head, a hat that belonged to a man you had met six years ago, a man you called Dad, willingly and without any input from her. You, a girl who had gone without a father for so long. Years of Father's Day cards, heart-wrenchingly sweet cards made out to Reid, or Derek, or Hotch because they volunteered to take you to your dances, even if she had offered to go, because you said you didn't think it would be allowed for her to crash it. Cards made out to her, thanking her for being both the mom and the dad (those tended to make her cry a lot). Years of ballet recitals, soccer games, spelling bees, silly school graduations, all of which she happily attended, but attended alone. All the nights of fevers and stomach aches and sniffles and dry throats. All the diaper changes and reverse cycling. All the scraped knees, busted elbows, trips to the ER. And now you were here, in front of the man who had abandoned you before you had even let out your horridly beautiful wail. JJ felt so many emotions at once, swelling within her that she reached out, grabbing your hand.

You weren't sure if it was to comfort you or herself, but you took it, entering the room as she opened it.

Machines.

Lots and lots of machines.

They stood at attention by his bedside, beeping and humming so loudly you weren't sure your thoughts would be able to tear their way through your mind anymore. Perhaps stat was a good thing.

There he was, lying in the bed before you. A standard hospital blanket was draped across his lower half. It was cream and thin, you recalled your days spent in a hospital not too long ago, how much you had hated it then. Those blankets were always itchy and uncomfortable, and you had all but forced Penelope to bring you one from home, to which she happily obliged, toting an assortment of stuffed animals as well (you argued you were too old for them, to which she had responded that no one was too old for comfort brought about by a stuffed animal.). His hands were resting limply at his sides, and you forced your eyes to skip over his arms, the damage an indicator of the activities he had chosen over taking care of you for the past decade.

When you reached his face you tilted your head. His face was sullen, cheeks sunken in, lips dried and caked in dead-skin. A redness spread about his face, a sunburn, perhaps, but you weren't sure. His hair, brittle and receding, was brown and you wondered of you had gotten anything from the man. A small part of you hoped you didn't. Looking at him now, you weren't sure if you wanted to. A sudden thought popped into your mind and you turned to your mother, who seemed to try to be looking anywhere but the man before her.

"What color were his eyes?"

They were shut now, and he almost looked...peaceful.

JJ lips parted, eyes coming to meet yours. "Brown." She said softly. Her hand was still in yours and you didn't make a move to drop it.

You nodded, glancing back to him. Something was missing, you gazed around the small hospital room to find what it was before it came to you. "Where is everyone? His family, or friends? Do they know he's here?" You looked back to the man, eyes following the rise and fall of his chest created by the ventilators attached to him.

The blonde stiffened, looking at her shoes. "They do. They won't come." With a clear of her throat, she was glancing back to you, your face softening as your teeth took your lip in their hold.

He was alone.

Was that by choice? Or had he run away from them like he had run away from you and your mother?

The doctor entered the rom, signaling for your mother to speak with her, and she left with a squeeze of your hand, leaving you with...him.

What were you to call him? Christopher? Dad?

Alone.

He was alone. His parents weren't coming to see him, he didn't have any friends. No loved ones to hold his hand in his time of need, to tell him it was going to be okay, to tell him that he was safe, and loved, and would be remembered. Regardless of his past actions, you felt...awful. Looking at him, you couldn't feel anything other than immense sympathy, because he had pushed away everyone and everything in his life, and he was left with nothing. You pondered his appearance, wondering what he must have looked like back when he had met your mother, what had drawn her in to him, made her love him and want him and that thought train had you reaching for his hand. Your mother didn't love without reason. She was logical, and fair-minded, and welcoming, and you knew that if she had loved a man, the man before you, it must've been for a good reason. And so, you couldn't judge him based on what was before you, because that was a result of all of his bad choices, all of his digressions and, yes, they were horrible, but they had also allowed your mother to meet Will. It allowed them to have Henry, it allowed you to have a family, a perfect family, and now all you felt was sympathy. No anger. No pain. Just sadness.

His hand was warm, surprisingly. What would it have been like to grow up with his hand, one to put in yours when you crossed the street, to feel your forehead when you said you felt sick, to help tie your shoes when you were still learning?  

The beeps of the machines sang louder as you stepped closer.

"Nice to meet you." You said softly, closing your eyes for just a moment. Just enough time for you to feel the weight of his hand in yours, to reassure yourself that this was real, that you were there, before you were opening them again.

When you did, your mother was back in the room.

Your mother's heart almost broke when she entered. The doctor needed her signature, needed a confirmation that they could remove life support, and her shaky hand had signed beside the 'x' with tear-filled eyes. And when she returned back to that godforsaken room, a room in which she felt all the air was removed, a room in which she felt suffocated, she saw you. Your hand in his, an image she had imagined in her head over and over and over again when you were growing up, a pipe dream, really.  A dream in which he suddenly got his act together, came back to find the both of you, declared his love for her, and begged for forgiveness for leaving. It was a dream that she wasn't even sure she wanted to happen so much as wondered if it would. Because you two didn't need him, she would attest that you two didn't need anyone, not really. Not before Will and Henry. You two were strong and independent. Jareau women were fighters. But still, she had thought about Christopher, and now that dream was shattered because instead of him holding flowers, he was hooked up to a life support machine, brain dead and unresponsive.

She wanted to yell. She wanted to yell and laugh and cry because this wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. She wanted to stomp her feet and throw herself to the floor like a toddler throwing a tantrum but it just...wasn't fair. She couldn't yell at him because he couldn't respond. She couldn't yell at him, because he was practically already dead, and he had left the decision for someone to give him the final blow to her. Her, a woman he had neglected, and your hand was in his, and everything was wrong.

Her feet took her to you, despite every cell in her body attempting to make her turn around.

"They're gonna unplug him, right?" She had told you on the way there that it was a strong possibility, depending on his state. But saying it aloud made it feel much more real. It shouldn't feel so absurd, you scolded. He was never in your life anyway, it wouldn't particularly make a difference. But, in some strange, bizarre way, it did It made a difference because now, Christopher wasn't just some man who abandoned you, he was a dead man who abandoned you.

"Yes." Her voice was small, and you latched onto her once more.

"He's all alone." You said with a frown, and she removed her hand from yours, instead, choosing to drape her arm across your shoulder and bring you into her embrace. Doctors were beginning to enter the room, beginning to explain what each machine did, the consequences of unplugging it, and then doing so quietly, though neither of you were listening.

"He is." She nodded, blonde hair rubbing against the side of your face.

You both stood silent for a moment watching the doctors continue.

"Tell me about him. When you loved him."

JJ sucked in a breath. She had only thought about the bad for so long, only thought about the moment his hand was no longer hers, his retreating figure as she clutched that pregnancy test in her hand, that panic in her chest as she realized she would have to do this alone. "He transferred to my high school in my sophomore year. Everybody went nuts. We didn't get new people in town...ever. But there he was. His hair was a mess," She glanced toward you, a soft smile replacing the frown she had been wearing. "Kinda like yours when you wake up."

"Hey." You mumbled into her shoulder, but you laughed all the same.

"We had a few classes together and he never let me forget it. Chris bugged me almost every minute of them, passing me notes, trying to talk to me, asking me out. I swore I wouldn't, I was too focused on soccer. But, he wore me down."

You rose a brow. "Wore you down? I didn't think that was possible."

She chuckled, the vibrations from it were felt on your cheek. "It wasn't before him. He was...different. He was a total music snob, spent almost all his money on the latest releases. He liked to take me swimming, said everything, all the bad things and all the troubles just floated away when you were in the water."

You looked back to the man in the bed, the doctors having turned off all the machines by now. Now, it was just a waiting game.

"That sounds silly." You whispered.

"It was. But, then again, so was he. He was carefree, spirited, and laid back. He hated the thought of having to grow up one day, said that being an adult was a life sentence to nowhere. Your grandparents hated him, but I didn't care. He was my first love."

You took in all the information, watching the ragged rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his wheezing making you cringe. "Would he have been good dad, you think?"

JJ thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. He chose to run. But I don't think he was suited for being a dad. I think he wouldn't have liked the responsibility of it all." She said thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulder before she was placing her head atop yours. "I know, without a doubt, that he would have loved you, though."

A snort escaped your lips. "Really?" You asked doubtfully.

"Oh, for sure. I think that if he had met you, he would have tried his best to be there, to be there for you. You both do that thing when you get mad, where you nose twitches like a little bunny and it's so cute that no one can ever stay mad at you. Or when you're tired, your eyes droop down and you can sleep instantly, no matter where you are. You both like rock music, and comedy movies, and blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer-"

"I don't think anyone can hate blankets when they're fresh out of the dryer."

She chuckled. "And you both hate peas. I swear, I tried to feed them to you when you were little and you actually scoffed at me. A seventh month old baby, scoffing at me."

"Hmm, wonder where I learned that from."

JJ rolled her eyes. "And you both have a big heart. Sometimes, his heart was so big, that he didn't quite know what to with it. You're better with following it, but you both have it. Just, too much love to give, and he never knew where to place it."

Silence settled over the two of you once more, the wheezing become quieter.

It was just you and her. You and her and the man in the bed. Her arms around you, chin atop your head as you lay in the crook of her neck.

"Are you sad?" you asked softly.

She took three breaths before she answered. "Yes."

You looked back at Christopher, imagining a relationship, one that included movie nights and car rides filled with shared music interests and dinners that revolved around your hatred of snow peas. But the image was foreign and fleeting, and all you could see was Will in your kitchen, producing horrible dance moves and whistled melodies. You could only see Henry shaking you awake. Reality reminded you of the life you actually lived, one without a Dad for a small amount of time, and then finding one. A life without Christopher. Your life and his. Ones that should have been lived together, but never were.

"Me too."

And the wheezing ceased.

Well damn. ANYWAYS, I’m so happy people are liking my JJxdaughter!reader content. It’s so strange because I really thought it wouldn't get much attention so that’s a fun surprise. Let me know what you think about this piece!

[thenovelartist]

A Blanc Slate, Chapter 8

<Previous Next >

22. Cosplay

“I’m going to face Ladybug tomorrow.”

The atmosphere shifted in an instant, time stopping for a moment. “Oh?”

“I can’t put this off,” Chat said. “And… I think I’m ready to, anyway.”

While part of Marinette felt relieved, part of her was panicking. Because apparently, she had one day to think of what to say to her kitty cat to convince him to… well, to keep in touch in some way, she supposed. She couldn’t convince him to continue being Chat if that ring was killing him, but there was no way she was willing to let him go yet. Not when he still meant the world to her.

“I’m proud of you,” was what she ultimately said when all other words seemed to fail her. “You were fighting that for a bit, so it must have been a hard decision.”

Chat looked down at his ring. “I… it was,” he admitted. “But mostly, it has to be done. And my friend… she said some things that kinda hit me and made me realize I had to do this.”

“I’m really glad to hear it,” she said, keeping up her smile and pretending it actually wasn’t tearing her up inside. It hadn’t been her to help him, and a part of her hated that.

He shrugged. “So… I guess you can say today’s visit is a good-bye.”

Her expression fell. So this would be the last time Chat would come by before he gave up his ring. But she also realized Marinette wouldn’t know that. She quickly scrambled to respond appropriately. “Oh? You’re not going to stop by anymore?”

He shook his head. “I’m giving up being Chat Noir… er… Blanc.”

“Noir,” she countered. “You’ve always been Chat Noir, even if you’re white at the moment.”

He huffed, bitter smile picking up his lips. “You know… when I first turned white, felt like I was cosplaying, but now I don’t even know what it feels like to be Noir anymore.”

“I never really thought there was a difference,” she said. “You’re still the hero of Paris in my eyes.”

The smile he gave her this time was bittersweet and sorrowful. “Then remember me like that, Princess. Please.”

She nodded. “I promise.”

He relaxed at her answer, as though that weight on his shoulders eased a little. “Promise me one last thing, princess?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Will you stick by Adrien’s side?”

She blinked a few times, trying to wrap her head around his words. Because while she hadn’t known what to expect, that certainly wasn’t even in the ballpark of possibilities. “Wh… what do you mean? I mean, yeah, of course I’ll stay by his side, but—”

“That’s all I need to know,” he said. “He needs you.”

Her brow furrowed, her confusion rising by the second. “What made you say that, though? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“I do,” Chat said. “In a way.”

“That’s vague.”

He shrugged.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?”

For a moment, his expression turned soft. “Maybe in time, Princess, you’ll figure out why.”

“But you just said this was your good bye.”

“It is,” he confirmed. “But you’re not saying good bye to Adrien.”

Understanding slowly dawned on her. It seemed like Chat was hinting Adrien would tell her someday. Maybe that was one of those many secrets that sat on his shoulders that was weighing him down so much.

But she supposed Chat was right when he said ‘in time’ because she wouldn’t push Adrien for anything right now. She’d wait until he could stand on his own feet again, at least.

“Well,” she continued. “Tit for tat, right?”

Chat quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that Ladybug seemed really distraught over the thought of loosing you,” she started, trying to chose her words carefully. “So, will you promise me that you’ll reassure her you’re not going anywhere?”

His lips tugged down int a grimace. “Princess…”

“Because maybe this is just my perspective, but a Ladybug without her Chat Noir seems… really weird and wrong.”

Chat bit his lip while a war of emotions played out behind his eyes. In the end, he sighed. “Okay. I promise.”

“I mean, you love her, right?”

“I do,” he murmured.

“Then wouldn’t it be harder to leave things strained between you?”

Chat seemed flustered by her challenge, his ears falling and lips curling into a confused frown. “I… yeah. It would.”

He grinned, able to relax a bit. Because she knew her kitty well enough to know he meant those words. There was hope yet.

23. Video games

Something told her she wasn’t supposed to catch him on her balcony. After all, he told her yesterday that he wouldn’t be coming by anymore, and he looked rather shocked and flustered by her sudden appearance on her balcony.

“Uhh, hey,” he said, giving her a weak smile.

“Fancy seeing you here,” she said, grinning as she hopped up onto her balcony, pretending as though she wasn’t just about to transform to go meet him. She begged her panicked heart to calm down all while being super thankful he hadn’t caught her. She didn’t know how he’d take that and the last thing she wanted was to make her cat run away during her last chance to convince him to stay.

“What brings you by again?” she finally asked before spotting the wrapped gift in his hand.

He seemed to realize he was holding said object, startling before extending the pink papered box out to her. “I owe you a sincere thank you,” he said. “So I just… wanted to leave you a little something.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said. “I thought you deserve it. And more, but this is the least I can do.”

She took the extended gift. “Can I open it now?”

He shrugged. “I guess. If you want.”

Careful to not tear the paper to the best of her ability, she snapped the tape with a fingernail and opened the gift, only to see the newest video game she’d been saving up for. “How’d you know?”

“A guess,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “And I thought you’d appreciate some down time since you’ve basically been working on nothing but commissions while babysitting… er, well, two grown men.”

She chuckled, holding the gift close to her chest. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He nodded, but contrary to what Marinette thought would happen, he didn’t immediately turn to leave. “Hey, um… do me a favor?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Maybe… take that over to Adrien sometime,” he said sheepishly. “Because I think the workaholic could use a break and might only take one if you force it on him.”

With a sigh, she smiled before giving him a nod. “Something tells me he wouldn’t be up for it right away. I’d settle for seeing him sleep more and eating properly, at the moment.”

“Something tells me you’ll see that in time.”

“I really hope so,” she softly spoke. “I hate watching him suffer like this.”

Something in Chat’s expression softened. “I think he really appreciates your concern. Just be sure to take care of yourself too, okay?”

“I’ll work on that,” she said with a wink.

24. Jealousy

“Hey,” Marinette asked right before Chat was about to leap away. “Do you want some cookies or anything sweet before you go? Or did your friend force feed you again?”

He paused, leaning back against the railing to steady himself. Marinette couldn’t miss the small smile that picked up the corners of his lips. “She force fed me again. And not to mention she’s a pretty good baker herself.”

Suddenly, the amount of jealousy she was feeling towards chat’s mystery friend spiked. It took her a moment to realize that it was because she felt… like she was being replaced. This girl seemed to hold a special place in his heart beyond either her as Marinette or her as Ladybug. She thought Ladybug was the love of his life, but whenever he mentioned this friend, he got a little twinkle in his eye. And that hurt more than she ever could have expected.

But she tried to cool her head. If this person was the only person to get through to Chat, then she’d take it, even if it broke her heart in the process. Because… just as he loved Ladybug, she loved him. Saying it was a strictly romantic love may have been a stretch, but this man…

No one would ever replace him. And she didn’t want anyone to.

“I’m glad to hear it. But, I’m a pretty good baker, too, you know,” she said with a wink, hoping to smother those intense feelings of hers.

“You are,” he admitted, with a teasing smile. “But I would have to say she’s on your level.”

“I’d gladly hold a bake-off with her and prove that wrong.”

Chat burst into a giggle fit that soon turned into a coughing fit. “Ahh, princess,” he eventually choked out, shooting her a strained smile. “So competitive.”

“You better believe it,” she said, trying not to calm her worry. He was trying to brush it off, slowly regaining his composure. Part of her wanted to get him to sit down while she got him some water, but he seemed to be steady again. However, it was a good reminder that now might be a good time to let him go. He had to go see the other her, after all, and she was anxiously looking forward to that. “Now, I’ll let you go to go see your lady.”

Any joy that had been on his face faded, his smile turning sad as his ears drooped. “Yeah. Wish me luck?”

You can have half of it, kitty. Because I’ll need the other half to get you to stay. “Good luck, Chat. And it’s been wonderful knowing you.”

Warmth returned to the smile he gave her. “Thanks, princess. It’s been wonderful knowing you, too. Never change.”

And with that, he leapt off into the night, a white blur on the horizon.

Marinette watched him disappear, then took an extra moment to put the game on her bed before hopping back out on her balcony to transform. She was ready to face her kitty. It was now or never.

[themysteriousauthor18]

Darkness….

Then the sounds of...birds?

The world blurred as the light steadily poured in. The darkness fading away, the vision focused gradually. Coming to realize green and blue blurs were in fact the trees and sky. Ears ringing, that gently faded too as the sounds of nature took its place.

Sounds of the water in the distance, birds singing their songs. Even a few wild creature’s in the far distance.

But the more the mind settled back in, the more that pain became apparent.

His eyes grew wide as it finally settled back in. The searing burning pain coursing through his body. Emitting from his left arm.

He sat up with a heavy groan, bringing his arm up. He pushed up the sleeve of his blue hoodie, his eyes grew wider if possible.

Blue fires was engraving itself into his arm..it faded in seconds putting itself out. It didn’t catch his clothing on fire which was odd. Once the blue flames cleared it left behind markings on his arm.

“What…” He muttered, his fear and also fascination growing. He pushed the sleeve up further, it seemed the newly formed markings made its way up just below where his shoulder started. The markings, he knew them. Seen them before, in Ford's books. The insinma, the triangles. The seal….the large familiar triangle in the center.

Bill.

Why did he have it on his arm. Nothing about this could be good.

Bill….the statue-

His brown eyes looked to its location hastily. But his heart dropped, finding it was not there. Only the flattened patch of grass where it had been. But no statue.

He scrambled to his feet, nearly falling. His eyes searched the spot, hands moving across it. Where was it? Where had it gone!

“Crap..” He cursed. “I knew it was a bad idea. I should have listened to uncle Ford!”

I’ve noticed you’ve had a recent interest in Bill's statue. Just be careful, dipper...and whatever you do, don’t shake his hand. We don’t know what might happen since you are one of the things that could bring him down.

This is what he got for letting his curiosity get the best of him.

Dammit!

What was he going to tell his Uncle?

“Okay Dipper..calm down.” He told himself. “Relax. Uncle Ford and Stan aren’t going to be back from their fishing escapade for another week. I have time..I can fix this.” He went on talking to himself. A nervous habit he kept since he was a kid. “I-I just need to figure out where the statue went. What happened to it and..” He paused, looking at the tattoo on his arm. “ What this mean?”

He removed the blue cap on his head, carding his fingers through his hair.

“I see some things never change, pinetree.”

He whipped around at that voice.

His worst fears became reality as his eyes tried to process what he saw.

The dream demon himself, inhabiting what looked like a more human form floating there. Legs criss-crossed as he hovered in the air. And he was...nakaed. Why was he nakaed?

His lack of clothes was Dipper's last concern, as fear washed over his matured features. Flashes of memory crossed his mind. Facing Bill back then all those years as a child. Living through weird megadon and having the recurring nightmares from time to time. Fearing that Bill would return, that he would kill everyone he loved.

He stumbled back, gawking. All color leaving his face. “No..” He muttered. “No, no no no.” He shook his head wildly. “This can’t be happening…”

Bill simply rolled his eyes. “Oh come on pine tree, never seen a nakaed human body? What kind of life have you been living? A boring one apparently.”

Dipper wasn’t listening to those quips. His hand instivily grabbed the first thing he could touch. It was a rock, he threw it with great force at the dream demon. “Stay back!” The rock flew at him, hitting the dream demon's shoulder and plopping pathetically on the forest floor.

“Rude.” Bill tutted.

His legs gave out as he fell, still staring as a single dark eye watched him curiously. Under blonde bangs. “H-h-how are you here!” He really wished he had his notebook with him right now.. “How is this possible..”

“Dunno.”

“W-what?!”

“I said I don’t know pinetree. Geez, are you that old?” He unraveled his legs, his feet touching the forest floor. Disrupting the grass beneath his feet. “I just kinda..woke up. I dunno, everything was dark and now it’s not.” He paused, “then I saw my old puppet!”

“I am not your puppet!” Dipper growled.

“Sure kid.” He brushed himself off, “anyway as much as I like being all natural I don’t like that look so...” Bill snapped his fingers for some clothes.

But nothing seemed to happen.

Just an empty snap

Bill was just as confused as Dipper, as he snapped again..again..and again..Nothing. Not even a spark. “Well drat.” The dream demon cursed. “Damn that stupid Axolotl..” He muttered.

He’s powerless? Dipper realized. Then he remembered something, filed away in his mind. Something said to him among one of their last journeys before leaving that summer.

One way to absolve his crime.

“A different form..a different time..” Dipper’s gaze took in the dream times form, the pieces finally clicking together. A different form, a different time. A human form, six years.

“Dipper!” That familiar voice filled his ears. He quickly got to his feet as he saw the dream demons not human faces fill with interest.

“Oh shooting stars here too!”

“Mable don’t come near me!” Dipper shouted into the forest towards his twin.

As stubborn as she was, she naturally didn’t listen to his warning. An adult Mable emerged from the forest, hair braided back and sporting a wacky sweater. This one orange and with cats on it.

She looked at her disgruntled twin, traces of fear lacing his eyes. “What’s wrong bro bro?” Her voice was a little different not nearly as high as when she was a child.

“What’s wrong? You need to go now!” He warned.

Mable blinked, looking at her twin, then around. She just looked...confused. “Dipper, I don’t see anything? What’s wrong? Are you losing sleep again.” She asked, concerned.

“What?” He turned to look behind him, there stood Bill. He looked amused if anything. “You can’t see it?”

“See who?” Mable asked, looking directly behind him at where Bill stood.

“Well isn’t this an interesting turn of events!” Bill exclaimed loudly. No reaction from Mable.

Meanwhile Dipper’s gears shifted in his mind. “What..what’s going on.” He muttered to himself.

Mable walked closer to her twin. Placing her hands on his shoulders and looking up at him. “Dipper, I know you’ve been stressed lately. But these trips are meant to be relaxing, you gotta relax bro.”

As she lectured him he was hardly listening. Instead seeing Bill walk over standing beside them. He glared at him, trying his best no to react if only so his twin didn’t think he had gone completely crazy.

His eyes widened as Bill raised a hand to Mable’s head, Dipper opened his mouth but stopped when Bill just took a leaf from her hair, looking at it with interest.

“ -E should head back to the shack now, Soos is making dinner right now. And Melody we’ll never forgive you if you miss it.”

“But-”

“No butts!” She cut in, “now come on.” She grabbed his shoulder.

Dipper quickly lowered his sleeve, unsure how Mable hadn’t seen it. As he was dragged away by his twin he looked over his shoulder at the dream demon, who was still inspecting the leaf.

What was going on?

[itwoodbeprefect]

decided to just compile a bunch of comments about my sga 1x01 rising rewatch into a single post because i don’t actually want to make a hundred posts in a row, so here, under the cut, many rambles:

announcer guy does, in fact, speak english upon a second attempt. well done on not forgetting to not speak german, announcer guy.

“i’m afraid of the thing” elizabeth says, about the drone chair, while standing next to it and looking like she wants to fuck it

rodney in that orange sweater! very orange! very warm!

john is on screen. john’s first words are helicopters he knows how to fly. john KINDA LIKES IT in antarctica. john has barely done anything and i already feel like crying a little bit about this guy who LIKES ANTARCTICA because he just wants to fly

POOR CARSON when he almost kills two people. “ai told ya ai was the wrong pursohn” :(

i really love how john sees the drone coming at the (landed) helicopter and yells “get out!” and they throw open their doors and john JUMPS and then it’s just “ugh.” and he’s belly-down on the floor and still like, almost under the helicopter. an attempt was made, for sure. just not a very succesful one.

the way john looks around like he’s never seen a ceiling before when he enters the base is just. very funny. and then some guy in particular is looking at him because he’s a bit of a weirdo and john looks back and the guy sort of looks him up and down and john looks away as if to check if anybody saw that. hmm.

john’s face of “oops” after he sits down in the chair and it ACTIVATES and carson RUNS OFF to go get literally everyone and john is realizing he MAY have just made a very giant big mistake. PRICELESS

teyla: my people have long believed the wraith will come if we venture into the ancient city. sumner, when the wraith come after he ventures into the ancient city: [surprised pikachu face]

gotta love how john insisting on saving his people is what wakes up the wraith, and saving his people is also what landed john in antarctica in the first place because he tried it in afghanistan once before. which wouldn’t have happened if there hadn’t been an american war in afghanistan in the first place, which there wouldn’t have been if bush hadn’t thrown the us into it, which wouldn’t have happened without 9/11, so... bin laden woke the wraith?

on the other hand john would never have had to go on a rescue mission on his first day in pegasus if sumner hadn’t gone into that city against the wishes of the people that already lived there and had a history dating back thousands of years with the place, so more realistically, the expeditions’ colonizer mentality woke the wraith. and then they just kinda... kept going with that for the rest of the show, because it worked out so well on that first day.

anyway i’m not even there yet - puddlejumper! it jumps puddles!

have to love the moment john realizes the puddlejumper is pretty literally reading his mind and giving him anything he can think of that is within its power (so no turkey sandwiches, but that’s okay). john is already in love with it just based on the fact that IT CAN FLY AND GO FAST (“i kinda like it here”, restored) but then all the ancient technology just seems to know him and love him back and gives him way more than he even thinks to ask for. which, for john, who doesn’t really do well expressing desires? a FLYING SHIP that then READS HIS MIND? starstruck. love at first sight. john&puddlejumper, instant bffs. i bet it would have popped a compartment with some stray bits of wire if he’d asked for a friendship bracelet right then and there. ford sitting there witnessing this doesn’t even know how hard he’s thirdwheeling it in that moment.

now i am at the bit where sumner is taken from the wraith prison to see the actual wraith, and look, obviously they’re evil and feed on humans etc etc, but this particular wraith’s sense of dramatics? unparalleled. she has them bring her victims one by one to a large foggy room with a looong table set with a wonderful dinner and then she LEAVES a DEAD BODY sitting at the head of the table (implied to be the athosian that was taken before sumner?) and drops down from the ceiling while sumner has his back turned for no reason except the spectacle of it all, and dracula himself literally couldn’t have made a better display out of this. it’s maybe scary in the way that it makes clear she’s a cat toying with a helpless mouse before she eats it, but it’s also hilarious in the way that this is absolutely a very bored immortal being who had to stay up while the rest went to sleep and is inventing high school improv plays with her dinner for some diversion. don’t play with your food, wraith queen. you’re scaring your dinner.

life signs detector!!! ford didn’t get to name the puddlejumpers gateships, but that one stuck, no matter how much “we can name it later” john was trying to throw at it!!!

(god. there’s a ficlet somewhere in there about season 2 john having a moment where he realizes he’s on the hunt for ford using the thing they first discovered together and that ford gave its name.)

getting sidetracked here, but when john and ford find the group of humans caught by the wraith teyla goes “major!” and it makes me think that. well. how are the athosians supposed to know things like “major” and “colonel” are military ranks? what are the chances the pegasus galaxy uses the same designations? (don’t really know how the language thing works here - we’re hopefully not supposed to think they’re all speaking english, are they? i’ve never watched sg1, there’s probably lore about this, i assume. maybe alien titles somehow get perfect translations to earth ones and vice versa.) but i mean, teyla is too smart, she’d have it figured out already even if those words don’t exist in her galaxy, but some athosian somewhere is going to be very confused by this earth tendency to name way too many kids private and lieutenant, and then put all of them into the army. strange, to have your job decided for you at birth like that. earth people are weeeeird.

fjdkl john is like bye, gonna go find colonel sumner all on my own, run if you don’t hear from me in twenty minutes, and ford’s like “you’re the only one who can fly these people out of here” and “i’m saying i should be the one to go, sir” and john, with his savior can’t-leave-anyone-behind-gotta-do-this-personally-or-i-will-literally-die-from-not-almost-dying complex DOES NOT LISTEN to ford’s EXTREMELY ACCURATE objection. which is his right, as ranking officer, but is also a perfect showcase of why john Should Not Ever be in charge of atlantis, and why sam saying he was totally on the shortlist when she takes over command in s4 is funny but frightening if you’re on atlantis and like being alive.

sumner: “we travel through the stargate as peaceful explorers.” FDJKFD. god, that line, from that character, hilarious.

rodney comes to elizabeth full of enthusiasm about all the interesting stuff they’re finding in the city only to find her staring at the empty gate and when she says she should never have let them (the rescue party) go, he sobers up and says awkwardly “for what it’s worth, you made the right decision” and that’s GOOD that’s KIND.

back on the planet with the wraith everyone is running to the jumper while there are wraith darts whizzing through the air and teyla turns back, catches up with ford who was told to cover their six, disarms him (because he was firing at illusions, revealing their position), hands him back his weapon, pulls him in the direction of the puddlejumper, and PUSHES HIM ASIDE when they’re almost scooped up by a wraith dart, and i’m so here for teyla being allowed a moment of heroics that saves specifically ford, guy with a gun, and not a random athosian damsel in distress. teyla is fully on their level. teyla is perhaps above their level. thank you.

that scene at the end of this episode!! in which there’s a sort of party on atlantis and it’s all buzzing and relaxed while the athosians are mingling freely with the expedition members and they’re talking of friendship and ugh. UGH. there’s a better version of sga in an alternate universe where the expedition didn’t decide atlantis was totally theirs, actually, and they cooperate with the people that were already in the galaxy when they came there and learn from sumner’s mistake to actually respect what they have to say and form a single front and teyla takes over as head of the expedition in s4 when there’s a void left by elizabeth’s absence.

final thought that has always haunted me a little: john suddenly becoming the ranking military member on atlantis after sumner’s death is ?? one of those things where i wonder what the sgc was thinking in their personnel assignments. john wasn’t even supposed to BE THERE. if john hadn’t gone and sumner had still died (which was something they should have considered as a possiblitiy! they didn’t know what they were walking into at all! sumner is apparently the type to lead his own missions!), then what exactly would they have done? i don’t know much about how the us military operates but i’ve watched enough mash to have figured out the order of the ranks and it just seems. very odd to me? to take one (1) colonel on this mission and then ZERO lieutenant colonels OR majors (if john hadn’t stumbled his way into it, that is). like, are there any captains on atlantis? (i think there are?) or would ford, a lieutenant, have ended up ranking military member? this is like the surely-they-only-need-a-single-medical-doctor-right thing. WHAT IS THE SGC THINKING.

anyway. this was good. i liked this. i hadn’t rewatched the pilot in a while, and i only just now figured out how much of a while, because there was a bunch in here i didn’t remember. ON TO EPISODE TWO.

[moronic-validity]

"I see you still have my shirt" for simping softness with a male reader and hoyt?👀 maybe have the reader kinda be the more dom acting of the two?👀👀

Please enjoy your FOUR PAGE LONG smut fic my friend.

Notes: This fic contains bdsm, temperature play, and Charlie Hewitt subbing.

Warnings: OKAY SO DON'T DO PUT ICE INSIDE YOURSELF and VASALINE ISN'T GOOD LUBE. Other than that,

18+ Under the cut!

After everything y’all had done the night before, Charlie got dressed in the dark and ducked back into his own room before anyone could realize he hadn’t slept in it.

You grinned at the ceiling and tucked an arm behind your bed, you replayed the events of last night in your head, your other hand starting to lazily stroke yourself.

It was hotter than hell and there wasn’t a lick of AC; there was no one coming through town, so you figured once you finished up around the house, you’d find a swimming hole and stay there til dark.

You stepped out onto the porch and saw Charlie sitting in the shade against the house with his shirt open and hat on his face. You walked up to him and nudged him with the toe of your shoe. He bolted upright quick enough that his hat fell down onto the porch.

“The hell you want?” He said, squinting up at you.

“I’m about to go swimming,” you saw him start to reach for his fallen hat, so you grabbed it and put it on. “You wanna come with?”

“Too damn hot, gimme my hat,” he extended his hand for you to hand him his hat.

“Too damn hot to go swimming? Get up you old coot and come with me,” you laughed at him, taking a step back.

“Yeah yeah, ‘m old and I ain’t goin swimmin, now gimmie my damn hat,” he was finally getting up. Perfect.

“Come n get it Charlie,” you said before running off into the house.

You had to admit, it was too damn hot to be running around like this, but the heavy footfalls behind you told you that, hot as it may be, Charlie was coming for his hat.

You hid under the table and watched Charlie stomp through the house towards your room. He barged in and slammed the door shut behind him. You laughed to yourself and filled a cup with ice and crept after him.

You managed to sneak into the room without him noticing. He had his back to you and was leaning over the bed trying to see if you were crouched on the other side.

Oh this is too fuckin good, you thought to yourself, setting the glass down and grabbing a singular ice cube. It was freezing and had started to melt in your hand. Perfect.

You grabbed the back of his undershirt with one hand and slid the ice cube between the fabric and his skin.

He yelped and stood up, quickly trying to shake the ice cube out of his shirt.

You grabbed the glass of quickly melting ice with one hand and shoved him back onto the bed.

You held him down with one cold, damp hand. Both of you knew he could get up if he wanted, but he didn’t quite want to. He hadn’t seen this side of you before and wanted to see how far you’d take it.

“Charlie, I am just so bored, ya know? And you won’t even go swimming with me,” you clicked your tongue, “Found a different way for us to cool off though,” you leaned forward and showed Charlie the melting cup of ice.

Charlie wished he could figure out what was going through your head.

“Roll on over Charlie, I want you on your back.” Your voice had lost its playful tone and Charlie found himself complying without even thinking.

“Look at you, you know I’m about to fuck you six ways t’ Sunday and you’re being such a good boy,” You moved his button down off his shoulders and threw it off to the side, “need you to sit up a little for me so I can get your shirt out of the way,” You tugged at the lower hem of his under shirt and pulled it up over his head, quickly discarding it on the floor.

“Cat gotcha tongue?” you asked, pulling off your own shirt and unbuckling your belt.

“Cat ain’t got my tongue, sir.” He answered with a smirk, watching the look of shock dance across your features.

You flashed him a dazzling smile as you leaned over him and secured his hands together with your belt.

“Well look at you, usin your manners….Luda Mae’d be so proud,” you slapped him, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough that he felt it, “you’re gonna lose the attitude, or I’m gonna make this a real long night for you.”

You took one of the ice cubes and put it about an inch up from his belly button. He let out a small sound of shock and arched his back.

“Ah, c’mon now, ‘m just trying to cool you off,” you cooed, moving the ice cube up his chest and over to his nipple.

You leaned up and licked the wet trail the ice cube left and you felt Charlie tense under your touch. You pressed your body against his and you could feel exactly how much he was enjoying himself.

You stood back up and let the ice cube melt on his chest.

“Charlie, this next thing I’m bout to do is gonna be real cold. Need you to relax for me,” you kissed and nipped a small bit of skin just above where his belt buckle would’ve been.

Then you slid his pants down his legs, the tent in his boxers more prominent.

You yanked his boxers off without ceremony, knelt on the floor between his legs, then hooked your arms under his knees and pulled him further down the bed so you could get a better angle.

You took you time picking out the next piece of ice, one that didn’t have any sharp edges and seemed almost rounded at one end. Almost like it was made for your next devious plan. You started off slow dragging it along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh making him shiver. You hung onto the way his breath hitched from the cold on his hot skin.

“If you make a sound, I’m gonna gag you. Understand?” You looked up at the older man and he gave a singular nod in response.

The temptation was just too much for you, you traced along his ass cheek with the piece of ice, and then you pressed right against his asshole with the rounded end.

“[y/n]! What in the hell do you think you’re doin!” Charlie nearly shot off the bed.

You tutted and got up from where you were kneeling.

“I did warn you,” you picked up his boxers and walked up to the other side of the bed, “Charlie, baby, I need you to open your mouth,” you cupped his chin with your free hand and held his mouth open, then shoved his own boxers into his mouth as he squirmed.

“Aw, c’mon handsome, I did tell you what’d happen if you didn’t keep quiet,” you leaned down so you were at his ear and whispered “tap me three times if you need me to let up, you know the drill.”

You knew he’d never safeword, but you felt better about the whole thing when y’all did have one in place.

You took your spot back, kneeling between his legs. God, he was so painfully hard and even with his shocked reaction to the cold, he was leaking precum. You wondered to yourself if there was any on the underwear you shoved in his mouth. You almost hoped that there was so that he’d be able to taste his excitement.

You were rock hard and hadn’t even touched yourself yet. If you continued at this rate, you’d cream your pants before you managed to fuck him.

You looked over at the glass. There was only one piece of ice left. It was a bit bigger than the other pieces, but it didn’t have any sharp ends and it wasn’t as big around as your thumb. It’d fit.

This time you took the piece of ice and began to press it inside of Charlie without the preamble of the first piece. He squirmed on the bed, bucking his hips, trying to get away from the frozen intrusion. Before long, the chunk of ice was inside on his asshole. You licked around the bud, worming your tongue in where the ice had entered. You started to fuck his cold hole with your tongue. You wanted to warm him up before the main action.

You thought about it for a moment and decided to switch gears.

You removed your tongue and replaced it with two careful fingers. You sucked, nipped, and licked up his inner thigh, you left butterfly kisses along his pelvis as you stretched him with your fingers.

You wanted to watch him cum without his cock getting a single bit of the action. The thought of it almost made you laugh. You knew how needy and demanding he could be. It was nice to have your way with him, have absolute control over his pleasure.

Charlie would never admit to you exactly how hot he found all of this. The last thing he needed was to encourage his usually submissive boyfriend’s dominant streak. It was fun to see from him every now and again, but this did not need to become a regular thing.

You were finally satisfied with your prep work and you reached under your bed and found your small tub of Vaseline you kept for occasions like this. You popped the lid on it, scooped out a glob, then rapidly realized you forgot to take your pants off.

Damnit, damnit, damnit, you cursed yourself at you clumsily took pulled your jeans down with one hand, careful not to get any of the makeshift lube on the denim. It’d never come out. Once you had your jeans kicked off, you fished yourself out of your boxers and smeared the petroleum onto your hard shaft. What was left over on your hand got smeared across Charlie’s bud.

You rested Charlie’s legs over your shoulders, lifting his lower body completely off the mattress, and started to carefully push into him.

You held yourself there. As much as you wanted to fuck him and make him scream, you didn’t want to hurt him. No fun in having to explain those injuries to the family. You sank into him, inch by inch until you were balls deep.

You watched the expression on his face, looking for cues that he was ready. He kicked you. His cue was to kick you.

“Fine Charlie, you need to be fucked that bad? Needy little whore,” you mumbled, pretending to be irritated by his impatience. In all honesty, it was kind of hot that he wanted you that badly.

If he wanted it that fucking bad, who were you to say no. Your thrusts were a bit clumsy, but you picked up an unforgiving pace that was good enough to make Charlie’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

Maybe he’ll find a brain back there, you thought to yourself.

You shouldn’t have waited so long to get to fucking him, you weren’t going to last much longer, not with him squeezing you the way he was.

“God Charlie, I wish you could see yourself. The way you’re taking my fat cock, God, it’s like you’ve been practicin,” you mused, knowing he couldn’t reply and that he was probably too lost in his own pleasure to acknowledge your words, “I’d bet you fuck yourself on your fingers every night lookin for something that feels half as good as this,” you buried yourself in him, watching his cock twitch as the whiteish fluid leaked out.

“Oh Baby, you just came without me even touching your pretty cock,” you groaned. It was too hot. You switched from deep thrusts to small ones; you knew you were going to cum any second now, you just wanted to make sure it was deep inside him. You wanted him to feel you leak out of him.

You brought Charlie’s legs back down and leaned over, undoing the belt around his wrists.

You turned away, grabbing a rag you had laying around and you dipped it in the glass of water you had left over from the ice. He pulled boxers out of his mouth.

The first words out of his mouth?

“You happy now,” he asked, seemingly annoyed.

“Pleased as punch,” you were back between his legs, gently cleaning up the mess of bodily fluids and thick petroleum jelly.

You came into your hand and used the rag nearby to clean it up.

Probably need to wash that, you noted.

You got up with a stretch and noticed the wife beater and tan Sheriff’s shirt still laying on your floor. You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning.

You left your room shirtless, in only your boxers and jeans, joining Charlie in the kitchen. You came up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.

"I see you still have my shirt"

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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