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infinitenatones · 2 years

Text

Let me be your stress relief

Steve's had a very boring Saturday grading papers and starts to remember one of the many times he and Eddie had Sex getting himself very worked up. But when Eddie gets home fuming from a shitty interview they both have the same idea on how to help Eddie get his frustrations out.

Explicit

Tags & Warnings - Smut, Mean!Eddie, Dom!Eddie, Sub!Steve, Rock Star!Eddie, Teacher!Steve, Anal Sex, Face Fucking, Spanking, Blow Jobs, Rough Sex, Degradation, Aftercare

5.8k words - Also on AO3

If you like this please reblog it really helps!

Minors DNI or I'll steal your kidney!

It has been a particularly long and boring Saturday so far. Steve has spent the vast majority of the day grading his students papers and watching trash tv. Eddie has been out since morning doing an interview and photo shoot to promote the band's new album. “Finally, last paper done” Steve sighs as he places the final piece of work on top of the stack. He looks at his watch, 5:36pm perfect time for a glass of wine, desperately needing something after all that work. He could have a joint, Eddie had pre rolled a bunch before he left this morning, but Steve isn't a fan of smoking up by himself anymore. It's more enjoyable with Eddie and he always makes sure that Steve doesn't get too stoned, stress makes him chain smoke which is not a good idea, especially if it's joints he’s smoking.

Steve shuffles to the kitchen, grabs the wine glasses and pours some merlot. “Shit” Eddie isn't back yet and he has instinctively poured him a glass. Well it’ll be ready for when he gets home, shouldn't be too much longer anyway, Steve thought as he walked over to turn the TV off and put some music on instead. He searches through their collection of tapes looking for a specific one. “There you are!” He smiles as he pulls out a rather scruffy looking cassette, the words, Songs for Stevie, scribbled on the paper surrounded by weird little doodles. It’s the first mixtape Eddie had ever made for him, was he a massive fan of all the songs? No, no he wasn’t, but Ed’s had put so much thought into it and he is missing him terribly today. Setting the music going Steve walks back to the kitchen with Judas Priest singing ‘Eat Me Alive’ reverberating round the apartment. He takes both glasses over to the coffee table, setting Eddie’s down for later and going straight in for a sip of his own barely making it onto the couch before the dark red hits his lips. Steve lets out a sigh and sinks into the couch as the gentle warmth of the wine trickles down his throat.

The mixtape brings back so many memories from when they first got together, driving around in Eddie’s old van, getting high at skull rock, other sweet moments and of course the first time they kissed, soundtrack for that moment courtesy of Metallica. All the emotions and feelings from that period in time come flooding back to him. It was a scary yet exhilarating time for Steve, he’d never been in love with a guy before, didn't even realise he was into guys, but Eddie, oh Eddie, he made Steve feel things he’d never felt before and Eddie loved so loudly and much deeper than Steve knew what to do with at first. It’s been years since they got together but Eddie never fails to make his heart flutter, he always seems to know exactly what Steve needs, often knowing him better than he knew himself. Their relationship had only gotten better with time, which Steve didn’t think was possible. But the years together had meant they had both learnt so much about each other, likes, dislikes, little habits they do, what makes them tick and the exactly what buttons to press to get the reaction they wanted from the other man.

It's not very often that Steve’s home alone, apart from when Eddie is on tour, which is a horrible time to be Steve and an even worse time to be Eddie's band mates. Heaven help whoever Eddie is sharing a room with during that time as the phone calls Steve & Eddie have whilst apart are completely filthy and incredibly frequent. He’s not even away for long at all today in comparison but boy is Steve longing for his man. Now maybe it’s the large glass of wine or maybe it’s the mixtape, perhaps it’s both, but his mind starts to wander down the more intimate paths of memory lane.

He drifts to one of his favourite memories, the first time he bottomed. Eddie very quickly quieted his nerves, he was so sweet and comforting, making sure that Steve knew that they could stop at any point and guaranteeing him that he would take care of him from beginning to end and after. He remembers the electricity that surged through him the first time he felt Eddie’s talented tongue worship his entrance. The way he ate him like it was the first meal he’d had in weeks. The feeling of his metal rings pinching his thigh a little as Eddie’s strong hands held him open, those same rings at his hole when Eddie slipped his fingers in for the first time. His cock twitches in his jeans at the memory, the fabric now incredibly tight against him. Steve’s head falls back and his eyes close as he reaches down to start palming himself through the denim, desperate for some relief but wanting more than anything for Eddie to be the one to provide that relief. He stays in the memory remembering the insane tidal wave of pleasure that consumed him the first time Eddie hit that sweet spot inside, a pleasure so intense that it threatened to tip him over the edge before even having Eddie’s cock inside him. When he did feel Eddie’s cock push inside him that first time it was painful, he was much bigger than Steve expected, the pain very quickly turned to pleasure though. Every time Eddie thrust into him was pure bliss, he had come undone with such intensity that it felt like he would never come down from the high. Eddie’s sweet kisses and gentle circles on his thigh helped him to relax and float back down.

Steve’s jeans now feature a very prominent wet spot from his pre cum. Palming himself just isn’t doing it anymore, he wants to feel Eddie, needs to feel him. To have Ed’s hands roam his body, his lips leaving marks claiming him, the dark chocolate curls wrapping around his fingers as he pressed Eddie face closer to him. A sinful moan fell from his lips mixing with the music of the mixtape. He was so lost in the moment and his desire for more that he almost missed the noise of keys being fumbled with by the door. Eddie’s gravelly voice muttering a string of curses pulled him back into the room, his man is finally home and he seems pissed. Steve doesn’t mind though, having sex with Eddie when he’s annoyed is a delicious thing. Letting Eds use him to fuck out his frustrations was always intense and animalistic and Steve absolutely loved it. Plus the after cuddles were always so sweet and cozy, even when he was being used like a slutty little fuck toy Eddie made sure to remind him after of just how much he adored him.

The door swings open with such force that it threatens to come off its hinges. Steve's eyes dart over to the doorway and he is gifted with a vision of leather, mesh and ripped denim. His eyes drink in the man, slowly going over every inch of him until he reaches Eddie's face. His skin is flushed, brow furrowed and dark eyes made even more fierce by the eyeliner framing them. Steve was right Eddie is definitely pissed off about something, and anger just looks so sexy on him. Eddie turns around to close the door and by the time he's turned back Steve is right there, pupils blown wide with lust, handing him the glass of wine.

“Shitty day handsome?” he asks as he drapes his arms around Eddie's neck, pressing a quick kiss just below his jaw. “That fucking interviewer!” Eddie snaps before taking a large swig of the wine. “He clearly didn't give a crap and had done no research into who we were at all!” Steve hums in response to Eddie, the harshness of his voice going straight to his dick. “He didn't even know all of our names, like what the hell dude?! I was so close to knocking him out, luckily for him Jeff was there to keep me somewhat level headed” He rants, all the while Steve is nuzzling his neck and placing soft kisses all over it. Eddie is so tense his body is practically vibrating from rage, he’s thankful for the wine he was given by Steve but he needs something else, something stronger, something guaranteed to get all the frustrations out. He continues his rant, the anger still bubbling inside causing him to barely notice Steve’s lips making their way to the sensitive spot behind his ear. It’s not until Steve subconsciously grinds onto Eddie’s thigh that he is enlightened about his boyfriend's current rock hard state. A wicked smirk spreads across his face, he’s just found the perfect stress relief.

For the first time since he got through the door he really looks at Steve, his eyes are half lidded with lust and a crimson blush is spread across his cheeks. He looks incredible, gold rimmed glasses framing his beautiful hazel eyes, hair kind of messy and his oversized knitted sweater making him look oh so cosy. “Are you even listening to me?!” desire now mixing in with the frustration in his voice. “ ‘m listening…interviewer was shit, did no research” his words are lazy and half formed. He scoffs, almost laughing “You were barely listening at all! Do you even give a shit about my day?!” Eddie pushes him away and takes another large gulp from his glass of wine. Steve, upset at the loss of contact, takes a few steps back out of Ed’s space. “I care! It’s just, um well I…” Steve’s voice trails off as he shrinks into himself. “Were you touching yourself before I came home? Just couldn't wait could you, you little whore!” Steve dips his head in shame and he replies without words, just a little whimper confirming what Eddie already knew. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t mean what he said, it's all part of the game that they’ve entered into, a game both participants are very very happy to play.

Eddie strides over to Steve backing him up against the kitchen counter, he slams one hand down onto the marble and puts down his glass before using the other to grip Steve’s jaw with just enough pressure to make a point. “What got you all riled up then huh? What’s got my slut so desperate and hard?” Eddie sneered inches away from Steve's face, his hot breath sending tingles down Steve’s spine and right to his core. Eddie doesn’t let go of his face as he stares him down waiting for a reply, his own arousal making itself known as it painfully presses against the rough denim of his jeans. Steve shuffles a bit under his gaze before answering, “Well, I was listening to our first mixtape and my mind kind of wandered to, well I started thinking of, um, the first time I, I bottomed” his voice trembling a bit, not from fear or embarrassment but from a deep hunger for the man in front of him. “Is that what you want huh, want me to fuck you?” Eddie slots his leg in between Steve’s thighs, the pressure causing him to whimper and grind his hips onto Eddie. “Cos I promise you this Sweetheart, if I fuck you tonight you won’t be able to walk for a fucking week” It’s a promise growled into Steve’s ear. His knees go weak and his hands instinctively grab onto Eddie for support. “Please, need you so much, use me, fuck out your frustrations, please Eddie!” he begs desperate and whiny, needing him so much right now. “Bedroom, now.” and with that Eddie steps out of his space and Steve practically runs to their room.

Eddie was pissed off but not at Steve, not in the slightest, getting to come home to him was the only good thing about today. He finishes his drink before heading into the bedroom, ready to give his man what he wanted and take what he needed in return. As he enters the dimly lit room he's greeted by his greek god of a boyfriend on his knees in the centre of the floor waiting for him so patiently. His grey sweater discarded, he presents himself in only his jeans and glasses knowing full well the effect it will have on Eddie. Steve’s eyes focus solely on Eddie as he slowly takes his leather jacket off and gently places it on the chest of draws. Eddie takes his time going purposefully slow which drives Steve wild, he wants Eddie and wants him now, he cant wait any longer. He wants Eds to rip him to pieces and put him back together again, to be completely engulfed by him and feel Eddie’s rage being thrust deep into his core. Eddie leaned up against the door allowing Steve a full view of the outfit he wore for the photo shoot. Ripped black denim jeans, shiny black Doc Martens, his signature guitar pick necklace and the pièce de résistance, a black mesh crop top leaving nothing to the imagination. Steve’s eyes dance over his body, every second spent staring makes him harder as he drinks in every inch of skin showing. His defined pecs, the tattoos that contrast so beautifully to his milky skin, the scars covering his torso and the tantalising strip of dark hair leading his eyes down to the bulge he wants to free from its denim prison. Steve is practically drooling and about ready to pounce on Eddie but he knows that's not the plan for tonight, no tonight he is Eddie’s plaything, his toy to use until every ounce of anger and frustration has exited his body.

After what feels like an eternity (it was barely 30 seconds) Eddie makes his way over to Steve, placing himself so his groin is mere inches away from his face. He takes Steve's chin and tilts his head up to look at him, he can see the desire clear as day in those beautiful big eyes. “Tsk, tsk, stripping without permission slut, do you need to be reminded of your place?” he teases, Steve nods in response purposefully breaking one of Eddie's rules in an attempt to rile him up more. “Words” he hisses as he tightens his grip on Steve’s face, he’s already pissed off the last thing he needs is a bratty Steve adding fuel to the fire. “S-sorry, please remind me Eddie”, before he can fully register what's happening Eddie is pulling him up to his feet and marching him over to the bed. Eddie places himself on the edge of the mattress, legs spread just far enough for Steve to stand between them. He leans back looking Steve up and down as a smirk spreads across his face, “Strip, underwear too” Steve goes to step backward to give himself more space to remove his jeans but Eddie firmly grabs his hips. “Oh no Sweetheart, you're staying here.” he chimes as he presses his fingers into Steve’s skin just enough to hurt a little. Staying where he was put Steve turns around so his backs to Eddie before undoing his jeans, bending forward to remove his clothing he feels a sudden pain on his ass. He immediately shoots upright and swings his head round to see what happened, Eddie is sitting there with a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “Did you just bite me?!” Steve shrieks, a small laugh escapes Eddie’s lips “How could I not? Your ass was right in my face and it looked so very tasty, besides I think it's very clear you liked it.” His hand ever so lightly grazes Steve’s rock hard erection, teasing him, they both know Steve isn’t going to get his release any time soon.

With his hands back on Steve’s waist he guides him so he's stood to one side of him before placing his hand firmly in the centre of his back and pushing him forward so he’s fully bent over Eddie’s lap. “Now I think 10 spanks is a fair punishment for your behaviour so far tonight, don't you?” The thought of the impending punishment causes Steve’s dick to twitch, he doesn't like to admit it but he really does enjoy pain every now and then. “Yes Eddie” he responds, turning his face to try and look at Eddie. “Oh, my boy has finally remembered his manners.” he coos before sharply delivering the first hit. Steve's hips buck forward and he bites his lip in an attempt to stop his moan being audible to Eddie. “Color?”, “Green” Eddie may want to use Steve and fuck him raw tonight but he was gonna make sure Steve enjoyed it too. Regardless of what scenario they were playing out they’d regularly check in with each other using their system. “Good, now count them outloud, or is 10 too high of a number for your little brain?” His tone is condescending and he rubs small soothing circles over the site of impact. “ ‘s not too high, can count them for you” Steve’s words are breathy, longing to feel the sting of Eddie's rings against his soft flesh again. Eddie spanks Steve alternating between cheeks and having no rhythm to the hits so as to keep him on edge with anticipation. Steve counts out every hit and he can't help but writhe and buck with each sting, Eddie quickly uses his free hand to hold on to Steve’s waist and keep him still until all 10 hits have been delivered.

“Took them so well for me, such a good little slut.” The praise goes straight to Steve’s dick and Eddie definitely notices the way it twitches against his thigh. He braces himself on Eddie’s thigh as he tries to stand up, his legs wobbling beneath him like those of a newborn lamb. He falls to his knees with a resounding thud landing in between his boyfriend's legs. The dull ache from the smacks, the fresh burn of the carpet scraping his skin and the desperate desire to cum, all causing tears to prick at the corners of his eyes threatening to spill over. It was too much and not enough at the same time. He peered up at Eddie through damp lashes, his eyes silently pleading with him for more. Eddie gently brushes his knuckles along Steve’s cheek taking just a quick moment to provide some comfort before taking Steve exactly how he needs to. “Seems like you’re a mind reader sweetheart, you fell exactly where I wanted you.” he teases as he runs his hand across Steve’s jaw until his fingers reach Steve's mouth. He presses his middle and index fingers to Steve’s bottom lip demanding entrance into the wet heat. Steve opens willingly and savours the feeling of calloused fingers pumping in and out, the digits dancing with his tongue as he laps over every inch of them.

Eddie pulls his fingers from Steve with a pop and chuckles as Steve whimpers at the loss. “Please” he whines, hands flying to grab any part of Eddie he can reach but they’re stopped before his fingers can even get close to grazing the man in front of him. Eddie’s large hands wrap around his wrists and hold them firmly in place, “Oh baby, so fucking needy! Tonight is about me getting what I want, what I need. And what I need is to fuck that pretty mouth of yours. Doesn't that sound like a great way for me to get some frustration out?” he cocks his head and a crooked grin pulls at the corners of his mouth. Reaching down to firmly place Steve’s hands on his thighs, their mouths get so close together that they’re sharing the same breath. He leans further into his space to whisper a single word in Steve’s ear, “Stay” a simple word that holds so much weight. Steve knows to obey lest he receive another round of punishment. He waits so patiently as Eddie stands to his full height towering above him, he stares as Eddie's long ringed fingers deftly undo the handcuff belt buckle and the buttons holding up his jeans. His eyes practically burn into Eddie’s flesh as his cock springs free, fully erect and teasingly glistening at the tip from pre cum. Steve licks his lips and salivates at the site of his long awaited prize, regardless of how many times he’s seen this perfect dick it always amazes him. The sheer length of it was impressive alone, then you mix in the girth and the way it curved towards the tip, oh that sinful curve, it’s enough to drive a man wild.

Eddie carefully removes Steve's glasses and sets them aside making sure they're out of the way and aren't at risk of being damaged. He turns back to his boyfriend and cards his fingers through Steve’s silky locks admiring how soft his hair is before tightly grabbing a handful of it at his crown and giving a sharp pull forcing Steve to look up at him. Steve hisses at the pain but it's quickly forgotten as the floaty feeling of slipping fully into subspace creeps in. He absolutely delights in the times he gets to sub, loving the feeling of completely handing over control to Eddie, being able to just exist without worrying about anything and the beautiful fuzzy out of body experience of subspace that only heightens his pleasure. “Hands on my thighs, I don't want to feel them leave my body. If they do, I'll assume you're touching yourself and you will be punished.” He places his hands as requested and brushes his thumbs over the soft flesh happy to finally be permitted to touch. “Good boy, now eyes on me the whole time and if it's too much, pinch me, hard.”

Keeping one hand in Steve's hair he uses his other to grab the base of his cock and tap the head on those rosy lips. Opening his mouth wide he flattens out his tongue and takes a deep breath before Eddie slides himself into him. He starts slowly at first, gently rocking his hips and staring into the hazel pools of lust below him that are framed by a deep crimson blush. The sight is too much for him and his hips snap forward and his eyes roll into the back of his head as his guttural moan fills the room. Steve gags slightly at the sudden hit to the back of his throat. He has no time to recover before Eddie starts his onslaught of thrusts deep into his throat. Looking up at the blissed out face above him fills him with pride as he knows he’s giving Eddie exactly what he needs. Eddie’s eyes flit back down to the man below him taking in the full sight of his man taking his length so perfectly. “Deep breath” his sex drunk voice graciously giving a heads up and letting Steve know exactly what's coming. He’s incredibly thankful for the warning as next thing he knows the firm grip in his hair is pushing him completely flush against the dark curls at Eddie’s base. Taking a deep breath through his nose he’s hit with the full musk of Eddie Munson, the scent adding to the medley of his senses. His earthy yet sweet smell mixed with the taste and weight of him has Steve moaning in ecstasy. The vibrations travel through Eddie and hit his core full force causing the knot in his stomach to tighten with pleasure.

Eddie pulls Steve off him with one quick tug of his hair, both men's breathing shaky and shallow. They take a moment to calm their breaths and Eddie’s grip loosens ever so slightly in Steve’s hair. Steve’s hands never leave Eddie’s thighs, he so badly wants to touch himself to alleviate the ache growing in his groin. But deep down he knows that waiting for Eddie to bring him to orgasm will be far better than anything he could do on his own. “Color?” he puffs aware of how rough he’s being with him and although Steve hasn't tapped out he needs to make sure that it's not too much. “G’green, v’very green” the raspiness of his voice sends shivers down Eddie’s spine and nestles deep in his heat. Deep in his blissful subspace Steve instinctively opens his mouth again ready for another round. “Show me how much you need me, put that talented tongue of yours to use” Eddie hums as he strokes the back of Steve's head. More than happy to comply, Steve sets to work on bringing Eddie as much pleasure as possible. He licks a long strip from base to tip along the thick vein running up the underside of Eddie's shaft before giving his tantalising head the treatment it deserves. Taking him into his swollen lips he swirls his tongue round the sensitive tip and laps at the slit eliciting a cacophony of moans and curses from the man towering above him. Setting a steady pace Steve slides his mouth up and down Eddie's erection using his tongue to add a light pressure exactly how Eddie likes it.

It’s not long before Eddie reaches his limit and the knot in his core threatens to snap. Without a word he pulls Steve up to meet him and crashes his lips against him in a bruising kiss. Steve’s eyes flutter shut and he whimpers into the kiss, his jaw going slack allowing Eddie to push his tongue in and devour him. The kiss was harsh and needy, teeth clashing and hands exploring each other's bodies. Eddie slides his hands round Steve’s waist and picks him up before turning around and throwing him onto the mattress. Steve’s eyes shoot open with shock, his pupils blown wide and sweat beading on his forehead and pecs. Quickly grabbing a bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table Eddie crawls onto the bed and positions himself between his boyfriend's thick thighs. He leans over him and starts to suck bruises down Steve's neck and onto his chest. Steve’s head falls back onto the pillow “F’fuck Eddie!” he wails, his nerves lighting up like fireworks as he’s finally being touched how he’s wanted all evening.

Eddie splays his fingers and trails his hands up Steve’s torso until they reach his pecks. His thumbs flick over his already hard nipples, pinching and rubbing at them causing Steve to writhe beneath him. “ ‘m gonna fuck you so hard.” he whispers between sucking and biting and Steves flesh. His body presses against Steve’s cock providing some much needed friction, Steve’s hands slide under the mesh crop top to grip and claw at Eddie’s back. Eddie lets out a primal groan before tearing himself away from his boyfriend's body. He grabs the lube and goes to pour some on his fingers but Steve reaches out to stop him. “No, need you now, don't wanna prep”, Eddie’s hand speeds down and delivers a sharp swat to Steve's cheek. “Since when does my fuck toy get to demand something from me?! You’re supposed to be getting rid of my anger, not adding to it.” There’s a darkness in his eyes and a passionate fury in his voice. “S’sorry Eddie, just need you” he snivels whilst delighting in the stinging pain radiating across his face from the point of impact. “‘S gonna hurt, you want that huh? Want me to hurt you Stevie?” Steve’s hand grips at Eddie’s forearm “Please Eddie, please!” he begs.

Eddie removes Steve's hand from his arm and places it on the pillow above his head. He puts down the lube and grabs the condom, tearing it open with his teeth and carefully rolling down his shaft, Steve stares in anticipation. Picking up the lube he squeezes a large amount directly onto Steve's entrance, the cold gel causing shivers to travel through Steve. Grabbing his erection he slides it through the dripping liquid making sure to cover himself generously. Using one hand he grips onto the beautiful boy's hip to stabilise himself as he lines himself up and slowly pushes in.

Having no prep means that pushing in is somewhat difficult, Eddie’s thick cock stretching Steve wide as he forces past the tight ring of muscle. It burns as Eddie enters but it’s what he asked for, what he needs, he is however incredibly thankful for the frankly obscene amount of lube Eddie used. Steve relaxes as best he can, knowing the more relaxed he is the easier it will be for Eddie and the less it will hurt for him. Eventually Eddie bottoms out and Steve lets out a blissful sigh at the sensation of being completely full, Eddie stills giving them both time to adjust to the feeling. But not one to waste a moment he leans forward and takes one of Steve's nipples into his mouth biting and sucking at the sensitive bud the stimulation leaves Steve mewling. After feeling Steve completely relax he starts thrusting into him, slowly at first, enjoying the warmth and pleasure of Steve’s velvety walls tensing around him. But it’s not enough he needs more and by the look on Steve’s face he needs more as well.

“Hold onto the headboard and don't let go” he growls before grabbing the back of Steve’s thighs and pushing them up towards his stomach allowing him to get a better angle. Eddie’s new pace is relentless and every harsh thrust hits Steve perfectly in that sweet spot. The room is filled with the symphony of skin slapping against skin, harmonising moans and the practically religious chanting of Eddie’s name. All the pain of the unprepped entry slipped to the back of his mind and was replaced with pure ecstasy, after needing to be fucked all day he was finally getting what he so desperately craved. “So fucking tight, fuck, God fuck!” His fingers gripped tighter onto Steve’s thighs, his rings pinching at the tender flesh. Steve hopes he leaves marks, handprints seared onto him as a secret reminder that he can carry around with him.

“So close” Steve’s voice barely above a whisper, his orgasm within reach as his mind floats deeper into another world entirely, focusing on nothing but the sensations of Eddie, being completely enveloped in him. Eddie lets go of Steve’s legs and stretches one hand wide to restrain Steve’s wrists on the pillow above his head and the other wraps around his throat. The rough calluses, caused by years of endless guitar playing, squeeze the soft sides of Steve’s throat. The lack of oxygen causing him to float ever deeper, well and truly in his subspace. He comes undone, hips bucking up towards Eddie. Eddie releases his grip on his throat and Steve screams Eddie's name as the hot ropes of his release spill onto his stomach and chest.

Eddie doesn’t slow down his pace, he continues on chasing his own high. Tears fall from Steve at the overstimulation, he wriggles underneath him but Eddie has him firmly pinned to the bed. “Such a good l-little slut for me, m-my slut, say it!” He fumbles over his words, the knot in his core ready to break. “ You’re slut, n-no one else's, all yours” Steve breathy words tip him over the edge. His thrusts falter and the knot snaps, he collapses on top of Steve as his orgasm fills the condom. They lay there for a moment in silence revelling in unbridled bliss, their hot breaths dancing across sweaty skin.

Eddie pulls out and quickly removes and ties off the condom before throwing it into the trash. He gently presses a sweet kiss to Steve’s forehead “Gonna grab you some water and a towel to clean up, I’ll be right back I promise.” he whispers into Steve’s ear, he gets just a small mumble in response Steve is still fully lost in his own head. He returns as quickly as he can and places the glass of water on the bedside table. “Stevie ‘s okay if I clean you up?” his voice is so gentle and full of compassion. Steve simply nods and Eddie sets to work gently swiping the cloth over Steve’s stomach cleaning him up as best as possible. He finishes up and collapses on the bed next to his man. He pulls him in close and strokes a hand through Steve’s hair and over his cheek. Steve snuggles into Eddie and sighs before allowing his eyes to flutter open. “Hey pretty boy you back with me?” He looks into Steve’s eyes and he swears he can see the entire universe in them. “H-hey handsome” his throat burns a little from Eddie’s earlier onslaught and the noises that forced their way out of him.

Eddie sits up on the bed and gently moves Steve to sit between his thighs, his back slumping against his chest. He reaches for the water, gives it to his boyfriend and encourages him to drink. Steve sips the cool liquid, it soothes him as it trickles down his throat. Once he’s done he sinks further into Eddie and reaches for his tattooed arms to wrap around himself. “How’re you feeling handsome?” Eddie asks as he places sweet kisses into Steve's hair. He nestles further into Eddie wanting to be completely consumed by his embrace. “I’m amazing, but, but how’re you? Not angry?” He can't help but giggle a little at Steve's question, it’s so genuine but how can he be anything other than happy right now? “No Sweetheart, I’m not angry anymore.” Steve can hear his smile, he intertwines his fingers with Eddie’s and without a thought Eddie starts rubbing small soothing circles over Steve’s knuckles. “Did I do good, was I a good boy for you?”, “Oh Stevie, Stevie, Stevie. You were perfect baby, so very good for me.”

Eddie can tell Steve is tired before he yawns, He moves Steve so he’s laying down and quickly takes off his top before joining him and pulling up the covers. Steve turns to face Eddie and wraps himself around him like a Koala clinging to a branch. They lie there limbs tangled up in each other exchanging multiple of the most loving kisses. He smiles wide as he looks into Eddie’s eyeliner smudged chocolate eyes “So glad I could be what you needed”. Eddie smiles like a cheshire cat and his eyes twinkle with pure unadulterated love. “Maybe you’re students will piss you off this week and I can return the favour” “Oh I’m counting on it!” Steve chuckles, Eddie kisses the tip of his nose and squeezes him tighter. They stay linked together listening to each other's breathing as they drift off into the most peaceful sleep.

#steddie fanfiction #steddie smut #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #angry smut #I spent way too much time on this #my fic

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punkassfrance · 1 year

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Carried Away - Joel x Reader

Rated T for partial nudity and suggestive dialogue. Joel picks up a new project- it's been a long time since you've seen him this excited. Content warning for minor cut/injury, knife, and country music I guess.

This fic comes with a playlist! The first two songs are the songs actually featured, in order, the rest are just songs I think Joel would listen to (working, dancing, singing along, whatever.) All were initially released pre-2003. I recommend the first two songs at least, but hey, enjoy the rest if you like!

You’re not certain where he found it. If it was in Jackson, it was a wonder someone hadn’t taken it already. If it was outside, you had no idea why he decided to drag it back.

Well, maybe you have an idea.

When he kicked the door down and stomped his muddy boots into the kitchen, smiling like a kid, you almost didn’t recognize what was in his hands. He lifted it and held it out for you to see.

“Look!”

You were a kid the last time you saw one of these in your father’s “man cave”, but the closer you look, the more it starts to come back to you.

It’s a Victrola. An old one, even by 2003 standards. The wood casing has a few dings and stains, but it looks much better than it should after twenty years sitting wherever it was. You only look over the crooked needle for a second before looking back up to Joel, and he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. After years of living together, years of being together, you never got the chance to really appreciate his dimples until now. You smile.

His boots thunk across the floor, dried mud falling off in chunks as he makes his way to the garage. You grimace and eye the broom, tempted to give him shit about the mess- but you haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.

He can sweep up his mess later.

Right before you chop down on the carrot in your other hand, snow slides off the roof and hits the trash cans, startling you. You miss and slice your finger, grimacing as you pull away and observe the cut. Barely more than a papercut, but it stings.

As you reach for a paper towel, the garage door swings open. Joel steps through, toeing his boots off and wiping his hands with a stained rag. “I think it’s just about running, babe-” he says, a perk in his voice as he looks up to you. Concern passes over his face, subtle, but not invisible. Not to you, anyway. Not after this long.

He crosses the floor in a few strides, taking your hand and holding it close up to his face. He’s not wearing his glasses; still too stubborn to admit he needs them.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, dear. Just got myself with the knife.” He sticks the tip of your finger between his lips. “What are you…doing?”

He glances up at you before pulling your hand away, dabbing at it with the paper towel he took from your hand. “Helps keep the cut clean, avoid infection. You gotta be careful with those knives, sweetpea…” He grumbles a bit under his breath, too low and quiet for you to make out, but you can imagine what he’s saying.

He glances out the window at the snow, then looks down at his dirty t-shirt. “Sorry I’ve…been out in the garage all afternoon.”

“Joel, you couldn’t have saved me from slipping with a kitchen knife.”

“I know, but…” He pulls you in, arms wrapping around your waist. His chest is so warm- the cologne he put on this morning has faded a bit, softer under the smell of dirt and beer. Rising and falling, sturdy under your cheek. “...I promise this’ll be worth it.”

“It already is.” You get up on your toes to kiss him before pushing him away. “I know how much you love a project. Go clean up before you touch me again.” As he walks off to the bathroom, you reach out to pinch his ass. He smacks at your hand, smiling before he disappears up the stairs.

When you come home from patrol in early February, the house isn’t silent as you expected. It’s not filled with children like some day, Ellie and her friends off at school. No. It’s music.

Old music. The type of thing you hear in the car with Joel. As you toe your boots off and shed your layers, you think you recognize the song- something Joel hums while he works, maybe. Stepping into the kitchen, you can hear him singing along under his breath.

“But darlin’, when you come around…” You knock on the kitchen wall to get his attention. He’s buried up to his elbows in dish water, but he jerks around and reaches for a hand towel once he hears you. There’s that grin again, the one you’ve only seen a few times. You’ll never point it out to him. He might stop if you did. Once his hands are dry, he jerks a thumb at the Victrola spinning on the dining room table. “Finally got her running! Maria let me have free reign over the remaining vinyl collection in the library, apparently we’re the only ones in town with a working record player.”

You stare at each other for a moment, soft smiles in a quiet moment before he crosses the room and pulls you in. Instinct raises your arms to loop around Joel’s neck, like this is just where you belong. You can’t remember belonging anywhere else. The past is too abstract to think about right now, and as far as you’re concerned in this moment, you’ve never been hurt in your life. Joel is right here, pulling you into his chest, humming along to the music. This is as real as it gets.

“I get carried away, by the look, by the light in your eyes…” His chest rumbles subtly as he sings, his hands playing with your hair. You’re not sure when he started swaying you with the music, but the motion is comforting. “Before I even realize the ride I’m on…” Lips press against your head. “...baby, I’m long gone…”

The song crackles out too soon, but he doesn’t let go until you lift your head to look at him. He pulls you up closer to his lips, almost lifting you off the ground in a desperate kiss.

When he finally lets go and you stumble off to the bath, you reach up to feel your hair where he was fiddling with it. It’s tucked into a loose braid.

The library is in surprisingly good condition. Part of the success of Jackson can be attributed to the well-stocked instructional books, so it makes sense the town would prioritize library maintenance. Ellie works down here some days, reading or playing with the gameboy color Tommy got her for the holidays.

Today, you’re in the back room, digging through what’s left of the digital media. There’s CDs, cassette tapes, VHS tapes, various fixed up devices to borrow, and most importantly vinyls. Joel doesn’t know you’re here today. He’s out hunting with Tommy, which would scare you to death, but he’s come back every time.

If there’s anything left to have faith in, it’s him.

You pull back each vinyl, scanning the titles for a second before moving along the stacks. The edges are worn and tattered, but you know the broken records have been culled for the most part.

The front door screams through the library as it opens, thudding closed before footsteps approach the back room. You turn to watch the doorway, breathing a sigh of relief when Maria approaches you with a smile. The goal was to surprise Joel with a few records- that would have been ruined if he came home early and caught you.

Luckily, she seems to have a stack of records in her hands.

“Hey. Glad I caught you- Jesse found these in one of the buildings we’re fixing up, I was going to let Joel know when he got back.” She set them down, pulling an empty milk carton out from under the table. “See anything you want?”

You hold up a small stack as she starts pulling out records to check. “A few things, yeah. Bit of rock, bit of country, and a few for me. Is there any due date for returning these?”

She glances over her shoulder with a bemused grin. “We’ll cross that bridge when someone else gets a record player. So, no.”

You smile as she pulls a record out of its sleeve and pauses. Holding it up to the light to look for warping or scratches, she holds the sleeve out to you. “I know Tommy likes this guy, I’m pretty sure Joel’s a fan too.”

The sleeve is a bit faded with time, but not unreadable. Maria hands you the record, apparently deeming it satisfactory. You’ve heard the name on the label before.

“I think you’re right.”

When Joel comes home, he’s a wreck. Covered in filth, more than usual, aching, just a bit grumpy. He doesn’t even make it to the laundry room before shedding his hunting gear with a deep, long-suffering sigh. When he looks up, his eyes soften a bit. You’re not wearing much- the house is toasty, especially by the fire, and you never wear pants if you can help it. You’re in underwear and one of Joel’s old t-shirts. You smile when you see him, standing from the couch and grabbing another log. Fire crawls up the sides as you feed it to the hearth.

Joel’s eyes light up as the song on the Victrola registers.

“Is this…?”

“I know you like this guy.” You stand up straight, holding out a hand to lure him in. He hesitates, but steps forward in front of the fire and pulls you into his chest. A chill runs through him, and he doesn’t smell nearly as nice after two days of hunting, but you don’t mind all that much. A candle burns on the side table, and he still smells like Joel after all- you’ll just have to warm him up yourself.

He holds you tight- this time, it doesn’t feel like it’s for you. Soft lips kiss at your neck. He’s not leaving marks, just easing into you the best way he knows how. His hands dip down to rest on your ass, fingers tracing over the lacy elastic border.

“Shit, babydoll. I’m getting you all dirty.”

“Hm…if only there was some kind of…big ceramic container we could lather up in. Hot water, maybe. A tub for bathing, perhaps-” You trail off into giggles as he lightly pats your ass.

“Smartass.”

Crackling silence fills the air as the song changes over. Piano. Eventually, a guitar.

Joel looks down at you. You don’t get to see him this soft often, but every time, you treasure the occasion. If there’s anything you’ll remember as you age, as your memory slips away, it’s him. His name. This reverent, adoring smile. Joel.

His hair is graying. It’s one of your favorite details about him. You hope when his memory starts to fade, he remembers you too.

Just look at you, girl.

“Standing here beside me,” he sings quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Starlight in your hair.”

He pulls you into the crook of his neck, arms tight around you. “Looking like a dream I dreamed somewhere…”

You never would have thought Joel to be the romantic type. He was so standoffish when you first met- hardened and gruff and a bitter asshole to everyone except Ellie. You imagine him before the outbreak.

There’s no way to know if he looked anything like the man in your arms. But you hope.

The song drawls on, quiet in the corner of the room. You don’t mind all that much, it makes it easier to hear Joel. Eventually he stops singing along, too busy swaying and sighing into your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you make a note to ask him to sing the song around the bonfire some time- but it’ll never compare to the rumble of his voice on your body.

I’m an ordinary man, but I feel like I could do anything in the world…

He pulls back to kiss you properly as the song closes.

…when I look at you girl.

When the fuzz of the record fills the room again, he sighs.

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

“I’ll draw a bath.” You get up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Dinner is in the oven.”

He nods, letting go after a moment. Before you pull away, you whisper in his ear.

“If you play your cards right, you might just get a massage after.”

He chuckles and pats your ass again, sending you up the stairs. The last thing you hear as you walk off with a smile is the sound of the needle lifting off the record.

Hope you enjoyed! Check out my about me with all of my info and other works! Comments are always appreciated c:

#the last of us #fanfiction #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel/reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #fluff #enjoy #i grew up in a rural area and now you poor people get to suffer for it #Spotify

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masterwords · 1 year

Text

a yearning that you can't ignore

Summary: The BAU end up with a case in Chicago - missing college students - that takes them right to Derek & Aaron's doorstep. At first they're a little excited to be back in the action, but quickly the two of them find themselves mixed up and in too deep.

Words: 13.4k

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (background Reid/Alvez but it's not much here - they are a couple in this universe though)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, stalking/obsession, gunshot, hospital, swearing, vomit (quick, due to head injury)...it's a Criminal Minds story surrounding a stalker case.

Notes: I started this fic back when CME started airing as I thought about how Hotch and Morgan probably don't mind their quiet lives, but when the opportunity arises for a little action...can they say no? (No, they cannot. As you're about to find out.) Anyway, case fics are fucking HARD TO WRITE...and it took me half a damn year to figure this out. In fact, there are 2 other versions of this fic that have nearly 10k words too because I couldn't decide what to do for the case...so maybe you'll get more case fic when I figure out what to do with all of...that. Also, this is clearly setting up a sort of second part. But it's in the Chicago Times universe, so they're all interconnected anyway. So...here.

OH! And, one more thing?! THIS IS MY 300TH FIC ON AO3! Yeah baby. 293 CM fics, 300 total.

Look at me being SO multi-fandom. lol Okay, on with the show!

(1)

It started with a coffee.

Just a cup of coffee, an Americano piping hot and placed on his desk with a little smiley face and an “A” where the name should be. He could tell it had come from the student coffee stand not too far away, the one he stopped at in the mornings on his way to his classroom.

He always ordered an Americano.

“Did one of you leave this here?” he asked once class had started. Silence. Students glanced around the room eagerly. He'd worked in the BAU long enough not to trust food that was just left sitting around, or really even food offered by well-meaning individuals. Probably a student, or maybe another teacher, had decided he needed a pick-me-up. That wasn't untrue, he was dead on his feet. His insomnia was creeping back in at the edges, slowly eating away precious hours of sleep. Eroding his delicate grip on his life.

He ignored the coffee and moved forward with his lecture. Teaching was starting to feel like a trap, an endless cycle of bad days. The students only half listened to him, and he thought maybe he could handle that if the games the staff played weren’t so tedious. He wasn’t cut out for the behind the scenes drama of this any more than he had been at the FBI. As with anything, there had been a honeymoon phase but that had passed and now this job was grating on him. Each morning he dragged himself out of bed and wondered why he did it. He had no inflated sense of self, no certainty that these young adults were the future...they would make their way into the world with or without him. Most of them looked at him like he was the barrier that stood firm between them and what they wanted.

The coffee ended up in the trash after all of his students had gone.

He was home the next two days with Hank, playing and singing Raffi songs and grading an endless stack of papers. He even got in a couple of decent naps with Hank which helped a little with the lack of quality nighttime sleep and his general sulky demeanor. Little sleeps were better than no sleep at all Derek had told him when he mentioned the naps.

On his desk, when he came back, was a small box of chocolates. He glanced around for a note, some kind of indication that this was left specifically for him and from whom but there was nothing but an “A” written on the little attached card.

He left the chocolates where they were and sat at his desk to begin his morning routine. There was an hour before his first class and he had a lot to do. His office was shared with another professor and this year they’d managed to work it so they were in on opposite days, a way to pretend neither had to share. Maybe the chocolates were meant for his roommate. He nudged them off to the side and pulled out a book with color coded pages marked for his lecture, scouring the passages once more to make sure they were what he wanted to convey.

The chocolates didn't enter his mind again.

It wasn't that he couldn't have put those pieces together, but there didn't appear to be a connection that warranted too much thought. It wasn't unheard of that students would gift their teachers with small bribes, incentives to give them better grades, and he had plenty of kids on the verge of failing his class. Enough of them that he wasn't surprised when they cornered him begging for extra credit opportunities or for him to be kind to them because their second cousin on their mom's side was sick or their grandmother had died (not the same grandmother that died last semester, a different one...) or that their partner had broken up with them. Those were the most common complaints, and they usually came with an offer of some kind...a coffee, candy, promised tickets to an event, you name it. No one wanted to fail a class and lose their scholarships, lose their chances.

He was soft, but he wasn't that soft. There was plenty of extra credit he was willing to offer, he was even willing to accept service opportunities, internships, journalism...he wasn't too rigid to help them out, but he paid no attention to bribes.

(x)

“Someone is giving you gifts?” Derek asked, vaguely interested. The tacos in his little styrofoam container were of much greater interest as he attempted to dump hot sauce on them and eat without making a mess of himself in the process. A few onions and a mess of cilantro fell into his lap anyway. “You know who it is?”

“No idea. I have a list of students who are struggling to pass but I can't see any of them thinking a gift would help. Especially without taking credit. You would think that if they wanted me to raise their grade for coffee and chocolates they would make sure I knew who it was. They've both just been signed with the letter A.”

“For Aaron?”

“Perhaps.”

“Maybe they're buttering you up. Were the chocolates any good?” Derek flashed that wicked little grin at him and Aaron rolled his eyes in immediate response. Derek knew damn well Aaron wasn't going to eat them, they'd probably found their way into the trash bin after hours. Hidden so no one saw, no one's feelings were hurt. But there was no way in hell he would eat them.

“Should I tell someone? Would that be overreacting?”

“What would SSA Hotchner advise someone of in your situation?”

Aaron glared from behind his sunglasses and bit into his last taco. Half of the meat fell out into his tray and he groaned miserably. He’d been on such a roll.

“SSA Hotchner isn't the expert in obsessional crimes. I'm looking for SSA Morgan to answer the question.”

Derek laughs and shrugged, telling him that he was probably overreacting. Like usual. Drawing conclusions where there aren't any because he’s so damn tired he could barely even keep his eyes open at lunch. “You sure you didn’t hallucinate the chocolates?”

“Shut up.”

“No I’m serious. Your sleep has been shit lately, baby. Not to mention...have you considered that you miss the excitement? That you’re looking for something to get your blood up a little? I know this teaching thing is starting to drag you down, I told you it would. You’re not a desk job guy. Might be time to find you something else to do.”

Derek was absolutely correct about the lack of sleep part (and the missing action part), even if he was very wrong about Aaron overreacting.

(x)

The gifts stopped for a full week once grades were posted, and Aaron thought it was a good thing he never mentioned his gifts to anyone else. It was obviously an overreaction brought on by years of barely contained paranoia. It didn't start that way. Once upon a time he’d been able to separate his life from his job, the evil of men from his every day. Until Foyet, until Peter Lewis. Until evil men marked him for some reason he never really did understand. He'd spent hours, weeks, months agonizing over the why. What did he say or do to make Foyet focus so hard on him? What was it that made Lewis target him? He didn't fit victimology for either of them, not by a long shot, and yet...they'd both managed, in their own ways, to ruin his life.

“Professor?” asked a timid voice from the doorway. He glanced up from the paper he was examining to find a student he didn’t immediately recognize smiling at him. He was good with faces, and she did look somewhat familiar, but he couldn't place her. The insomnia strikes again.

“Yes?”

“I um...I hope this isn't too forward of me to ask, but I was wondering if I could have lunch in your office today? I wanted to talk about getting into your program...”

“Oh, I uh,” he started, at a loss for words. He'd never had lunch with anyone in his office, let alone a student. It felt inappropriate and uncomfortable. “You'll need to talk to an advisor. Admittedly, I don't know much about how that works.”

“Oh. I know. But I kind of just wanted to ask you some questions about the classes and the topics you cover. I took your criminology course last year but I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue with that or move into forensics instead, you know? Do I want to learn how to catch them or clean up after them? Sorry, I'm rambling. Would you mind?”

She was already taking a seat at the chair in front of his desk before he even has a chance to register what was happening. He simply continued staring at her while he tried to switch gears from grading papers to using words. This not sleeping thing was going to be the death of him. It didn't matter as much when he was younger, he could dump gallons of coffee into his system and scrape by. Well, he still drank the coffee but not as much because it gave him heartburn so bad he thought he could breathe fire and he was not willing to live through that pain on purpose anymore. There was a time in his life that the pain was a necessary side effect in order to maintain his top of the food chain status...well now he was low on that food chain and he simply doesn’t need the stomach pain.

“I suppose I could talk for a few minutes. It isn't really appropriate for a student and teacher to eat lunch together like this, but as long as the door remains open, if you have a couple of questions I can try to answer.”

She didn’t seem to mind the rebuff, didn’t seem to register it at all really. Instead she set her lunch on her lap and began unwrapping a sandwich while she rattled off some background and finally a question. And then another. She hardly gave him time to speak, though when he did he found it somewhat easy to come up with what seemed to be a suitable answer to the questions at hand. She seemed pleased at least.

During a lull in conversation, he folded his hands together on the desk and glanced at the clock. He hadn't eaten his own lunch and would pay for that later with a bout of hunger induced heartburn that would probably make him sick, but there wasn’t any time left to do anything about it. He could chew a handful of Tums on the way to his classroom and hope for the best. It wouldn’t be the first time. Getting old came with a lot of new habits his younger self would get a good chuckle over. “If that's all, I really need to get prepared for my next class.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. Well, thank you for your time...” she hadn't taken her eyes off of him. It was starting to make him more than a little self-conscious. He was acutely aware of every sound he made, every move of his body. The crack of his knee when he straightened his leg, the way his glasses made the bridge of his nose sweaty, the click of the desk clock punctuating it all like an external heartbeat. He kept his hands still lest she misinterpret something. She didn’t seem to care, though. She left without any fuss, thanking him again for his time and for having lunch with her. She called it a lunch date, and that made him vaguely uncomfortable but it passed quickly. It isn't the first time a student had bombarded him with questions in his office, and if he had tried to connect it with the gifts he might be a little suspicious, but he didn't bother.

The gifts had stopped and the questions seemed genuine. She didn’t come back, either. That fact put him at ease.

Two weeks went by quietly. Without a gift, without a question. Everything seemed to return to normal.

Until a student went missing. The first poster was placed on the bulletin board right outside his office.

Days later, another.

And then came a phone call from Emily. That part was inevitable. Chicago PD knew that he and Derek lived there now and they seemed almost eager these days to have the BAU come in and help them clean up. Probably their way of making something up to Derek, paying the debt they owed to him.

They would be paying that off for a long, long time. It was collecting interest faster than money owed to the IRS.

(2)

“Hotch?”

Spencer's voice carried through the sea of students moving briskly down the hall. It was familiar and slightly jarring, a voice that felt wrong – out of place. There was no way he could find the right mix of words to describe the feeling that voice elicited, the way it felt like coming home though he hadn't even located the source yet. Students moved in waves, in groups usually, laughing and talking or groaning about a strict professor pop quizzing on something they haven't even gone over yet. (“Just because you chose not to come to class on Tuesday does not mean we haven't been over the material,” Aaron has said on more than one occasion. The students seemed mostly unfazed by this statement. He was never really surprised, the memories of his own college years were distant now but he remembered that part. Too many classes, too many hours at his job, too few hours of sleep. Whatever the reason, he can understand it...but it was still his job to throw those quizzes at them anyway.)

Aaron looked around for the source of the voice, scanning the crowd until lighting on Spencer who stood slightly taller than the bulk of the students around him. He was waving a little excitedly. If he was a dog his tail would be wagging. Aaron waved back eagerly, realizing he'd never actually done that before. If he was a dog, he might give his tail a small test wag. To see if he liked it. A first time for everything. Seeing Spencer felt magnetic, he had to move toward him.

A salmon swimming upstream would have had more grace, but Aaron fought his way through the crowd to where Spencer stood in the open doorway of a teacher's lounge anyway. Elbows squeezed at his sides to make his lumbering less noticeable, his hips swerving one way and the next in a sad attempt not to bump into any of the students. He said “excuse me” more times in those few seconds than he had in years.

“Reid, what are you doing here?”

“Oh...um, Emily said she called you.”

Aaron frowned, searching his scattered memory banks for something. Maybe she had. Yes, she had. But what about? His sleep had dwindled to no more than three hours a night, and that three hours was if he was especially lucky. Just a phase like the moon but it sure managed to gobble up his memory storage. Still, he thought he could recall the conversation dimly. Her voice, anyway. Shrill, accusing, sarcastic, sweet. All of them rolled up into one comfortable friend shape. And even if he couldn’t remember exactly what she said (though he knew it was stored in there somewhere), he knew what they were in town for. It was all anyone could talk about.

Two students missing. No bodies yet.

It was all any of the teachers could talk about, and those who were aware of Aaron's previous life found an almost impossible addiction to cornering him. His office ceased to be the sanctuary it had been at one time. The student who never introduced herself was only the first of many, it seemed, who wanted to barge in on him during office hours and utilize his precious free time. And he found it impossible to say no.

There was a time in his life he'd had a scowl that would scare most people away, but not now. Now he was comforting because he knew. He understood. He'd seen it all. Most of it would haunt him forever; you can retire from the BAU but it never leaves you. What he knew, he wished he could erase. It no longer served him...but it served them.

They wanted to be told it was okay, that someone would catch the person responsible before it happened to any other students, that they didn't need to be afraid. He knew far too much for that. He refused to lie, and his refusal to lie was when the police decided they needed help. The people were busting down their doors saying they needed to call in help. Get their children back. Two missing now would multiply if they moved slowly.

When Emily called him, he vaguely remembered telling her he'd been expecting it. The police were in over their heads. He also remembered feeling a little jolt of excitement...he didn't like to admit it, especially to Derek, but he missed it. He missed being useful for more than diaper changes and helping with math homework. True, it was time for him to move on, things had gone too far, he’d been personally targeted by too many serial killers and he had Jack to think about. But if you asked him, if you caught him on a particularly honest sort of day...he would admit that he wasn't ready. He didn’t want a desk job. He didn’t want to teach.

Being forced out stung like regret.

“She did,” he said finally. Certain he'd spoken to Emily about it now, once he'd jumped down the rabbit hole of his scattered memories. “I'm sorry, I've been a little distracted.”

“Yeah,” Spencer added, nodding a little slowly. “I bet. Two students. Do you know them?” Spencer said “do”, not “did” so Aaron figured that was good sign, no bodies yet. It was very little hope but it was something.

“No, I don't. Did the entire team come?”

“Even Garcia. She probably could have done everything she’s doing from Quantico but I think Emily asked her to come because it was a Chicago case. She can't stop talking about the last time we were here and how we still haven't seen your house yet. She misses you. Both of you.”

“Well,” Aaron started a little hesitantly. They didn’t have a large home and the team...well it didn’t matter. They’d come all this way and if they had to cram into their small townhouse then they just would. Part of missing the BAU was missing these people. He wasn’t foolish enough to think it was only the job. “If you've got time when the case is finished, we would love to have you all over.”

“About that. I was actually hoping you might have time to...”

Here it was. Aaron knew it was coming. He was willing to bet that Emily or JJ was at the high school doing the exact same thing to Derek. They were crafty. Divide and conquer. All hands on deck.

Aaron narrowed his eyes, one hand shoved into his pocket while he fingered the worn shape of one of Derek’s challenge coins. He ran his thumb over and around, delighting in the smooth places and the rough places while he waited, trying to give the impression that he hadn't been anticipating this from the moment he laid eyes on Spencer across the hallway.

“Would you have time to come down to the police station later to look at what I'm working on? I could really use someone who knows the school...”

“I'm sorry, Spencer,” Aaron replied, accessing some internal autopilot. He had a script planned out for just such a question, because he knew it was only a matter of time. “Retirement has put a lot of things into perspective for me, and one thing I've learned is how easily I can fall back into old habits if I'm not careful. Leaving the BAU was among the hardest things I've ever done.”

Spencer nodded, crestfallen, though he didn't quite understand. There was something in Aaron's statement that felt like a big fat lie, or like he was desperately grasping at something that was already turning to dust in his hands. He could probably argue with Aaron right now and win without any real effort. His stance felt that shallow, that shaky, but he respected him enough not to.

“Okay,” Spencer replied quietly. Saying no sounded incredibly hard and he could understand that. Aaron had to walk away, and if he looked back now it might destroy the tenuous grip he had on his life. “That's okay. We'll let you know when the case is finished and maybe we can have dinner before we fly out.”

Derek, it turned out, wasn't so firm in his stance.

(3)

“You told them you'd help?”

“JJ came and did 40s with my football players. Told me that she'd beat my best player for an hour of my time. She put my entire varsity team to shame, Aaron. In heels. She was wearing fuckin' heels and she out-sprinted teenage boys. She probably would have outlasted me if I'd let her but I can't have my team seein' that.”

Aaron smirked but said nothing, just flipped the page of the book he was pretending to read in bed. He'd missed most of the last three pages thinking about Spencer asking him for help, and it would have been a lot better if Derek had also said no. Presented a unified front. He couldn’t be angry though. Just a little jealous. It was happening at his school, after all, and he wanted to say yes. Some part of him did anyway.

“Do you think I should help too?”

Derek nuzzled into Aaron's hip and wrapped his thighs up tight, giving them an almost painful squeeze. His anaconda move. It usually meant he wanted Aaron to put his damn book down so they could fool around before going to sleep, to pay attention to him, but Aaron wasn't sure what it meant under these circumstances. Didn't feel like fooling around was the next logical step in this conversation.

Still, it was always on the table.

“I think you gotta make up your own mind on this one.”

Aaron didn't appreciate that answer one bit and he made a little huffing noise to punctuate his dissatisfaction.

“What?”

“You're supposed to tell me I should stay out of it. That I retired for a reason.”

There was something nagging at him already. Something just out of reach. If he could just sleep, get one full night, he thought he could for sure grasp it. There was a connection he was longing to make and he knew it, he was close to it. But not close enough.

“Am I? And then what, you're gonna do it anyway and then we're gonna argue? No thanks. I'll back you up no matter what you decide but I won't tell you what to do.”

“You used to love bossing people around. Arguing with me was your favorite past time.”

“Yeah? I've grown up. You gotta make your own choices now buddy.”

His body made the decision for him a few hours later, while Derek lay basking in the silvery glow of the moonlight fast asleep. They had fooled around, quietly at first, clumsy and quick until the springs on the bed started groaning and then they finished up quickly. That was enough to put Derek to sleep but Aaron remained wide awake until much too late. Staring up at the ceiling, he thought about the students, their photos tacked up on bulletin boards. Have you seen me? Missing! He'd seen them, but those photos were common...often jokes, he'd come to find after taking the first few a little too seriously. Those were the WITSEC days, when he was terrified of his own shadow and the missing posters felt a little too on the nose. Gallows humor. He half expected to walk by one and see his own face or Jack's plastered there with dead eyes.

But these weren't jokes. People were worried. Students clustered together more, stayed after dark less. The library had all but been abandoned. They hadn't enacted a curfew yet but Aaron postulated that it wouldn't be long. There were staff meetings called and student safety agendas passed out to every professor who had a classroom. The phone call from Emily hadn't been a surprise. “We're being called out to Chicago. You've got some missing kids?”

“We do. Doesn't sound like anyone knows much.” He'd been coy even then. He really didn't know anything but he wasn't stupid...he could have if he'd tried. It wasn't his place. He wasn't some retired old cop still looking for a piece of the action, missing the glory days. Besides, he was pretty sure these were his real glory days. He was simply an old man worried about a couple of kids now. A spectator who just so happened to have insider knowledge and a front row seat.

At 1:15am an alert buzzed his phone nearly off of the table as he sat pouring over everything he knew, making notes to at least give to Spencer. He could do that much.

The alert made his blood run cold.

Another student missing. This time he did know the face, he knew it well. Malachai Peterson. He'd taken Aaron's criminology course last year and written an article for the law review that made Aaron and Derek argue for a full hour afterward. All in fun. Well, not all. Mostly. “So who won?” Malachai had asked when Aaron approached him about his article. “And more importantly, who agreed with me? You know...who was right?” Aaron only stared in wonder at this kid who was definitely going places and sighed. It was like looking in a mirror at the little shithead he'd been in school. Admitting that it was Derek who had agreed with the kid's stance, Malachai beamed. “Your partner is smart.”

It wasn't that Malachai was more important than the other two students, it was simply that he couldn't ignore three kids missing no matter how he framed his own need to keep himself separate from the BAU. How could he not help? He would have to be careful about how he approached Jack about it, there were a lot of hard feelings there, but he was certain Jack would see that he really had no choice. Not this time. What if it was one of his friends? The girl he had a crush on maybe?

That certainty waxed and waned for a few hours before he chewed a handful of Tums and decided he had to stop thinking about it. Had to try and get a few hours of sleep.

(4)

“Have there been any bodies yet?” Aaron asked, entering the conference room that they'd set up in the police station at promptly 6am. He hadn't slept a wink. Didn't feel too bad yet, but it would hit him soon. Turn the world to putty and his mind to mush. Luckily, Spencer was waiting with coffees and a grim map of Chicago one one side of the board, a blueprint of the school on the other. Spencer pursed his lips and Aaron sensed his immediate hesitation.

Telling Aaron the truth, that a body had been found, was going to crush him. Spencer was acutely aware of the fact that Aaron had lost some of his walls, had become softer or easier to read and it was obvious that this case was hitting him hard. So hard that whatever stance he’d taken previously about getting involved had only needed one night to completely fall apart.

“One, but it hasn't been identified yet. It's one of the females, probably Melissa because she was the first abduction. The body was...”

Aaron couldn't help flinching and feeling immediately embarrassed by it when Spencer described the state of the student's body. He was out of practice. Or maybe he was too close. Probably both. He simply wasn't the man he used to be, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

“Is someone at the M.E's office now?”

“Tara and Luke are there.”

“Have you been able to determine any patterns? Any connection?”

“Aside from the fact that they were all students at the same university, not yet. None of them had any real overlap in classes or extracurricular activities...Garcia is looking into their social media and private lives now. It's possible she'll find something that all of them have in common.”

“Do we know when Malachai went missing?”

“That's interesting. No. The parents didn't say anything right away, apparently he had a history of not calling for days at a time, very busy. And they just moved, so their mail is being forwarded...it took an extra day or two. They didn't know anything was wrong until the letter made it.”

“I know him,” Aaron said quietly. “He's one of my best students. A real pain in the ass, but a brilliant mind.”

“Did you notice him missing from class?”

“Actually,” Aaron started, feeling a little sheepish after what he'd just said. “He isn't taking any of my classes this semester. But he does check in frequently, he likes to push my buttons.”

Aaron stared at the blueprints and frowned, sipping the hot coffee in his hand. It was bitter and comforting. There was definitely heartburn in his future but damn it felt good in the moment. Worth the risk.

By the time Emily and Dave showed up, he and Spencer were deep in thought, bouncing ideas off of one another that ultimately went nowhere but it felt good to be on Spencer's wavelength after feeling so dull and so slow for the last couple of weeks. Things were kicking into gear. He allowed himself a moment to mourn this, he’d missed it more than he’d even been willing to admit to himself.

“Who let this old fart in here?” Emily asked with a grin. She looked like she'd slept. He was a little jealous. “Good to see you old man. Sorry you’re missing bingo at the old folk’s home to help out. We’ll get you back in time for the early bird special.”

“Old? You have more gray hair than I do,” he pointed out, standing to hug her. She smacked him in the arm first, and then came in for the hug. Tight and a little too long. She felt guilty that he was there. She hadn't asked him to come, didn't want to involve him. Derek, sure. He could walk away a lot easier, he'd done it on his own...he made that choice because he was ready. Aaron didn't and she knew it. He just got lucky that he found Derek here in Chicago, because if he hadn't...she didn't want to think about the husk of a man she'd have seen walking into Quantico ready to take his office back. A man so desperate to cling to something familiar after being un-tethered so long. She knew the feeling. It hadn't ended well for her.

Without a doubt she wanted to see him. And being that he worked at the university it had made sense to ask him questions, but she didn't mean for him to feel obligated to step back in, let alone take orders from her. His departure weighed heavily on her heart. Still, she forced a smile and let go of the hug to scrutinize the way he seemed to fill out his polo shirt and khakis differently, at the way his hair was long and a little shaggy in places, definitely more salt than pepper at the temples and flecked with sparkly strands that caught the fluorescent light from above eagerly. He had more laugh lines than frown lines, and her guilt somehow weighed heavier on her after that realization.

He was happy and she was ruining it.

“Mine looks better.” It was all she could muster, and she did so halfheartedly. Thankfully, before Aaron could call her out on how hollow her insult sounded, they were interrupted.

“I don't know about that...” Derek's voice chimed in from the doorway as he waggled a box of donuts in the air. Penelope and JJ flanked him with eager smiles. “I think he looks damn fine.”

“Ew. Gross. None of that here.”

“Whatever. You're just jealous, princess. You coulda had all of this...”

“Oh please. Not on your life.”

The team fell back into a familiar pattern of thought, of bouncing ideas off of one another, of sarcastic banter and camaraderie. While the differences were stark and unsettling they also somehow worked. There was some nostalgic whimsy and a clear bond that couldn't be broken by something as common as time passing. When Tara and Luke returned, things kicked up a notch. Derek and Aaron both found themselves wishing they’d had an opportunity to work with this team. This group of minds.

Aaron stood beside Derek naturally, like that was where he’d always belonged. He'd always done that, arms folded over his chest and deep in thought. Derek commanded the attention of the room like it was what he was born to do, all eyes on him. He knew the city inside and out, it was sewn into his very being, and he'd already figured something out.

“This isn't about the kids he's abducted,” he said, saying what they had all been thinking. “They're just tokens. You wanna know what I think? I think they were taken for attention, and then when it wasn't the right kind of attention they started dying. This is for us. I mean, this is for you guys.”

Emily nodded sagely. “I had my suspicions. Things like this usually escalate. I'll bet once we find him, we'll find that he started small. This is about one person, and it'll have started on a very personal level but that went unfulfilled so it gained momentum. Now he won't stop until the object of his desire gives him what he wants.”

“Which is?”

“Attention.”

Aaron felt a trickle of fear in his spine and he glanced at Derek, silent communication. Derek understood it immediately. It all fell into some sort of symmetry. They didn't have all of the pieces yet but his coffee and his chocolates were connected. When Derek opened his mouth to say something, Aaron shook his head adamantly. Not yet. They would push him into staying at the police station, put him in some false version of protective custody, and he thought for sure the kids remaining would die if he disappeared. If this really was about him, he had to continue looking. Had to make things look normal, or worse, look like he wanted to find them. Like the attention was wanted.

“We can't let you two go out into the field,” Emily announced as everyone prepared for their assignments. “You can consult but you're civilians.”

“As civilians, you can't really tell us what we can and can't do...” Derek pointed out with a sneaky smile. She glared at him, not at all joking. He hadn't seen her this serious very many times.

“No, I guess I can't. But I shouldn't need to remind you that you have children who depend on you not to be complete morons. Let us handle the danger.”

(5)

“You have an opinion now,” Aaron said as he ladled soup into bowls for everyone. He splashed some on his hand and hissed in surprise, wiping the broth on the towel nearby. “Are you going to tell me or make me guess?”

Derek, throwing spoons on the table, hummed and Jack smirked. Hank, oblivious to the new tension, slammed his fists on the table and delighted in the way it made the spoons (and Jack) jump. Their house was not quiet.

“You're gonna have to be more specific, I have opinions about a lot of things. Like how you always put barley in this damn soup even though I prefer rice.”

“You've never said anything.”

“Well, because it's not a big deal. Just an opinion. Barley's fine, rice is better.”

“Sure, it's just an opinion and you'll eat the barley but if I knew you had a preference I might make it the way you like. I do enjoy making you happy, you know.”

“You hearin' this guy?” Derek asked Jack with one eyebrow cocked. He knew very well that in this situation, he had an ally in Jack who had been dealing with Aaron's rigid cooking for a lot longer than he had. “You think he'd make it with rice?”

“No way. He'd tell you that it's called beef and barley soup, not beef and rice soup.”

Aaron let out a long, miserable sigh. They weren't wrong, that was the worst part. “What does this have to do with your thoughts about me helping out on this case?” he asked, hauling bowls of steaming hot soup to the table. Derek grabbed the others and followed him out of the kitchen with an exasperated look on his face.

“Look. Do I like it, you getting involved? No. I didn't really think much of it at first cos I figured you were gonna say no but now...I think that place is bad for you. I think you didn't sleep last night because it's already getting its claws back in there and I don't like that. But I know why you showed up this morning, I recognized that kid's name too. I get it. So whatever opinion I have...doesn't matter. I just want you to be smart about it.”

“You think I won't be?”

“I think that you're not as over the BAU as you think you are. And I think that could be dangerous if you're not careful. I think you still miss it and helping is going to make you question your decision, and that worries me...maybe I'm bein' selfish there, but I like the life we've got right now and the BAU doesn't fit into it.”

“You want me to tell them I can't help?”

“No. I'm kinda excited to be fighting crime with you again. But I worry about you, that's all. I know what makes you tick. You miss it and I think that it's dangerous when you tell yourself you don't. If it's a one time thing, it'll be fun. I like this part of us too. Like old times. But what if you can't let it go? What if they get on that jet and head back and take part of you with them? What am I left with?”

“I love our life too, Derek.”

“I know. I'm not sayin' you don't, I'm just sayin' that maybe you miss it more than you let on. You miss the excitement. You got all antsy about some student bribing you with coffee and sweets for a good grade...”

“Okay. Point taken.” He had yet to tell Derek how he’d been feeling about teaching. About the way it made his soul ache for more...of anything. About how walking into that school filled him with a sense of dread long before the students started going missing.

“What ever came of that, huh?” He hated the idea of someone having their eye on Aaron, and it was easier to make light of it than give weight to what they were both thinking now. That it might be connected. That Aaron was the center of the whole thing. That the coffee and chocolates meant something dangerous.

“I said point taken.”

Jack stirred his soup quietly, eyes flickering from one to the other while he waited for an argument. A real argument. Those didn't happen often, and they were usually over before they really got going, but this one had all the makings of a good one. An epic battle for the ages. Even Hank stared wide eyed at them while he mushed soup in his little fists and spread it out over the table in front of him. “Uck spoop,” he said as he smashed little bits of barley into the wood.

To Jack's disappointment, it all but fizzled out there. Either they would talk about it later or it was settled entirely, he wasn't sure. But things went quiet and Aaron yawned and Hank spilled what remained in his bowl into his lap and Derek groaned and took Hank to the bathroom to run a bath.

Dinner as usual.

“How was school?” Aaron asked automatically and Jack groaned this time. He had opinions about Aaron helping the BAU but his opinion, so far, hadn't been asked. He was a little touchy about it and decided not to control his teenage mouth...or the eye roll.

“Fine. School was fine. I've got a lot of homework...can I eat my soup in my bedroom?”

That was that. Aaron was left alone at the table, soup dripping onto the wood floor from one side, his muddy tired thoughts revolving around a photo of Malachai Peterson. He yawned again and glanced at the clock, wondering if it was too early to call it a day and head to bed. He was acutely aware that he was no one's favorite person at the moment.

(5)

Three nights of insomnia and Derek knew as well as Aaron did that this was a bad idea. The problem was, two more students were missing and they weren't any closer to figuring anything out, with or without help. Aaron found himself working in his classroom during the day and staying late in the office to make sure nothing happened. If students were going missing from his school, that was where he could help. He was organizing teachers and administration, trying to create some sense of safety. He would spend a couple of hours at the police station with Spencer and then come home to dinner with his family. Dinner on time one night, late the next.

No one said anything.

To be fair, though, Jack wasn't saying anything to him at all. Not a word. He’d gone radio silence, even to the point that he’d taken all of his meals right to his bedroom and shut the door with a finality that made Aaron’s heart sink. The BAU took his mother, ruined his life, and of course he was upset. Aaron thought about backing out. Saying he’d done what he could and washing his hands of it. Hell, he might even take some vacation time just to be out of the school.

Except he knew he couldn’t do that. Even entertaining the thought seemed silly. He was already in too deep, and furthermore, some latent anxiety told him that he was at the center of it all. Somehow.

In the meantime, he found papers in his office trash can crumpled into balls that hadn't belonged to him. He asked Spencer, discretely, to have them checked for prints without saying why. The last thing he wanted to do was look like a paranoid old man but he was pretty sure they were important. Could have just been from his office mate, but he had his own can – why would he walk to the other side of the office to use Aaron’s can?

(6)

“He stayed at the station late last night,” Emily told Derek over coffee at his desk. His office was a mess of sporting equipment, some broken and needing repair, some signed by famous athletes, really just athletic chaos. There was a net tacked to the ceiling, dangling precariously and filled with various balls – footballs, volleyballs, basketballs, soccer balls. Some nice and new, some with chunks taken out of them or deflated. There were tackle bags and dinged up old weights, baseball bats, hockey sticks, all lending themselves to a general odor of chemical cleaners, dust and sweat. Except his desk, that was pristine. “I think he and Spencer might be onto something though.”

“He's not sleeping,” was Derek's only viable complaint. It was quick. A little flash of anger though it wasn't really directed at anyone in particular. It wasn't like they'd been forced into helping, they made the choice and it had been fun at the start to feel that rush again, to know they were trying to save lives. It was just...they got out. They got away, and their lives were better for it. So much better. And now...he could see it shifting too quickly, spiraling out of control. If this case was solved soon, they might still have a chance. But if it took too long, or if it ended badly, whatever misgivings Aaron was having about his job would manifest in other ways and then they’d be in real trouble. He groaned miserably. “They'd better be onto something.”

If they weren't, if Aaron was just not sleeping with no end in sight, he couldn't imagine how much longer this could be sustainable. He was worried more about their lives than the case. He still had a firm grasp on where he was and what was of value.

“Why didn't you say no?”

“How do we say no to helping people, Em? These are kids disappearing. One of them is a kid we know.”

“Right.” She didn't look convinced. “Have you heard from him today?”

“He said Spencer was going to meet him at his office...”

“Nerds.” She just wanted to lighten the mood. Judging by haunted the look in Derek’s eye, it hadn’t worked.

“Hey, did he tell you about the coffee? And the chocolates?” He knew he shouldn’t be bringing that up, it went against every discussion the two of them had had recently but maybe it was time.

“What are you talking about?”

“A couple weeks before you guys got here, he found a coffee in his classroom. Someone had left it for him. He didn’t drink it…”

“Of course. It’s Hotch.”

“Right. Well then a little later he found a box of chocolates on his desk. They both were addressed to “A”, so we assumed Aaron but...I guess it could also be the person signing their own name.”

“He didn’t eat those either.”

“No. He threw them away. I told him he was probably overreacting, drawing connections when there weren’t any but I’m not so sure about that now…”

“Was this before the first abduction?”

“Yes.”

“Shit. If you’re right then he’s the center of it. Try calling him.”

Derek was already on it. His stomach was twisting in knots, tighter and tighter with each unanswered ring.

(x)

Spencer had a lot of ideas about what Aaron’s office might look like. At first he thought maybe it would look just like his office at Quantico, a smattering of achievements, well-loved and used books, some photos or relics from Jack’s childhood, maybe a vacation photo of he and Derek...but it was bare. There was nothing in it but books and files that related directly to his coursework. Aaron noted Spencer’s disapproval and shrugged.

“I started working here during WITSEC. No personal effects. I just got used to it.”

Spencer nodded. “I understand.” It looked like Aaron carried his own personal prison around with him in the same way Spencer did. It looked different but it wasn’t really, not when you whittled it down to the core. “What did you want to show me?”

Aaron reached beneath his desk and grabbed a small wastebasket with a tiny box of chocolates inside. The thing was still wrapped in plastic, in the same condition it was bought in. “This. It was left on my desk just before the disappearances. I threw it in this wastebasket so whoever gave it to me wouldn’t be offended, but it was un-signed and I - “

Before he could continue, a face appeared in the doorway. It was the student who joined him for lunch uninvited. “Professor H,” she began, eyes suddenly flashing a nervous energy as they flickered from Aaron to Spencer to the chocolates. “You didn’t like them?”

He stared, dumbfounded for a moment and then it all clicked. Quickly, he tried to save what there was to save, to keep he and Spencer out of trouble. “The thought was sweet, I do appreciate them. I just don’t eat food given to me unless I know the source. We had a few frightening run-ins with…”

“Cannibals,” Spencer said, following Aaron’s lead. He’d already managed to slip his hand into his pocket to speed dial Emily. “We had this case where a guy fed one of his victims to a search party. The people out searching for her. I haven’t eaten chili since, have you Hotch?”

“Not once.”

The student stared at them with her mouth open for a beat too long before forcing a too-wide smile. “I see.” She was blocking the doorway with her body, standing in such a way that they had no real way to get a handle on the situation. Aaron was armed, but it was his ankle holster only...Emily had forbidden he and Derek to go into the field, and if she’d seen him packing, she would have flipped her lid. As it was she probably knew he was wearing this but let it slide.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name when we ate together the other day,” Aaron said, smiling as soft as he could manage. “I was mentioning your interest to a colleague and realized how rude of me not to ask.”

She beamed at that and hugged her bag close to her chest. “Ashby. Ashby Hastings.” Aaron nodded.

“I’ll remember that when I see her next.”

“No you won’t. You’ll forget like everyone else.”

There it was. Spencer’s blood ran cold and he wanted to glance over at Aaron, an instinct to look to him for guidance...except he stopped himself abruptly because he was the FBI Agent with the gun slung around his waist and Aaron was, for all intents and purposes, a victim. God that felt weird to think. And this student in front of him, small and benign as she looked with her mousy brown hair and her big doe eyes was a murderer.

“Ashby,” Spencer said, approaching cautiously. “Professor Hotchner and I need to get going, we have a meeting we can’t miss. It was very nice to meet you.”

She shook her head in an oddly twitchy fashion, like she was arguing with herself, and reached into her bag. In her hand was a gun, now aimed at Spencer.

“You can’t take him from me. Everyone keeps trying to get in our way. I just…”

“It’s okay, Ashby. Where do you want to go?” Aaron stepped around the desk, his hands raised slightly from his sides to show they were empty.

She startled at that, switching the gun from Spencer to Aaron and back again. “I have something to show you. In the photo lab.”

“Where is that?” Spencer asked, though he already knew. He’d studied the blueprints of the entire school. The photo lab was in the basement. She was going to try to get Aaron into the basement.

“You don’t need to come. You can go to your important little meeting.” She moved out of the way, motioning for him to pass by her with her gun. He frowned at the gesture and thought briefly about what the best course of action would be. Leave and get help right away? He knew where she was taking Aaron. But he didn’t want to let Aaron out of his sight. Who knows what her plan was once she had him alone. Stalker cases never ended well, and if anyone knew that, it was Aaron. He’d play along as long as he could but eventually he would upset her, do something to ruin the fantasy and then he’d end up dead. When he chanced a look at Aaron, he understood -

“Tell Emily I’m sorry,” Aaron said as he walked out of the office beside Ashby and her gun. Spencer waited until they were nearly out of sight before he grabbed his gun and followed.

(7)

The sound of Aaron's body hitting the ground was sudden and shocking. It could just as easily have been the unsub or it could have been Spencer, but somehow Derek knew it wasn't. He knew it in his bones.

“Dammit,” he groaned, his heart skipping more than one beat. It nearly stopped, along with his breath as he followed behind Luke and JJ. “No going in the field” Emily had warned, had repeated many times, but she couldn't stop him. Not when he knew Aaron was down those stairs in the dark with the unsub, how and why he couldn't fathom except that every fear he'd had came true. He knew Aaron would get in too deep. He'd catch a break, he and Spencer would crack it wide open, and then the two of them would put themselves into a situation they didn't want to be in. Couldn’t get out of.

The problem was, they didn't mean to.

“What happened?” Derek hissed, approaching cautiously with his flashlight poised ahead of him. Afraid to point it right at Aaron, he captured Spencer in the beam. He was hovering over Aaron's limp form, his hands flying fast over his body, searching for wounds beneath folds of soft fabric and tufts of hair. There hadn't been a gunshot but there was blood. Enough to be scary.

“She went that way!” Spencer shouted angrily at them, cursing them for stopping when he was already there. One set of hands was plenty and of all people he did not want Derek hovering over him. Not now. “Emily and Tara are following her. Go, go!”

“We need a medic!” Rossi shouted into his comm, dropping down beside Aaron and Spencer. Derek followed Luke and JJ down the corridor, there wasn't anything he could do for Aaron that Spencer and Rossi couldn't. What he could do was get the damn unsub and end this.

Of course nothing was ever quite that simple. There was a mass of confusion, of loud gunshots flashing in the dark, bullets connecting with metal, boilers hissing steam and voices calling out for an end to the shootout. They were going to destroy the school at this rate.

“You're surrounded, Ashby! There's nowhere to go!”

“You kill me, you never find those other kids...”

Emily glanced at Derek in the dark, a desperate and fearful look. Kids? Two more bodies had been found so far, she should only have one by their count, just Malachai, he was the only one she had kept even after more went missing. She was playing her trump card.

“We don't want to hurt you, Ashby,” Aaron said in a weak, hollow voice. A. She wasn't writing A for Aaron, she was writing A for Ashby. That thought had been circling his mind since the moment he saw her face. She’d signed her name and if he’d only been more with it, been awake instead of riding the waves of insomnia, he would have asked her name. He would have put it together. When Garcia sent her information over to Emily at the precinct, Derek’s heart sank. He knew. “Reid just sent me an SOS. I think they have her. We need to move fast.” One quick search through her laptop led to photos of Derek, of Jack, of Hank. Aaron’s press conferences from years before, papers he'd written, everything. Even information about Savannah overseas. Her entire hard drive was devoted to Aaron Hotchner and his life. She had even followed him home, followed his son to school, his partner to work...she knew everything about him.

But he wasn't afraid of her. She didn't seem to want to harm him at all, she just wanted him to notice her. He could do that. Or so he hoped, because in the condition he was currently in...he might not have much time to get the job done. The world swam in a sea of muted black and gray, swirling like an angry whirlpool. He was doing everything in his power not to be sick.

There was no way he could sit up on his own, let alone walk. He was being helped down the hallway, draped over Spencer and Rossi's shoulders, blood running into his eyes from a wound on his scalp. He needed medical attention fast, but he also knew he was the only one who could talk to her. She wouldn't listen to anyone else, she'd done all of this for him. It was one big love letter.

“They were your favorite chocolates!” she cried out into the darkness. “The ones with the gooey mint inside. You didn’t even look. You just tossed them in the trash.”

“I’m sorry, Ashby,” he said quietly, though it came out in more of a jumble than he’d hoped. She laughed at that and he decided it was in his best interest to stay quiet. She was building up to something.

His getting involved was by design. All of this was. When he scorned her gifts, she made sure the BAU came, knowing he couldn't say no. The coffee and chocolate had been a mistake, she knew that now. He wouldn't accept gifts of food from a stranger, that made sense. It had hurt at first but she forgave him. But the disappearances, well they were the perfect. He couldn't not help. It was all just bait and he took it. He’d never felt more like a silly old man.

“Do you like it? This was all for you. You won't even give me a chance. Our lunch date meant so much to me, the way you looked at me and talked to me...but then you ignored me. I had to get all of these people out here just for you to pay attention.”

“I know that you feel like an outcast. That these students mocked you, and that you've been keeping score. I know that Melissa and Tamika made fun of you in the showers, and they told you that a man like me would never see anything interesting in someone like you. I know that Shelly told you I only liked men and that you were being ridiculous. And I know that Malachai stood you up for a date...” Aaron was speaking between pained breaths, it came out slow and almost slurred in places. His arms being raised pulled at the angry, splintering pain of his broken ribs. Derek was afraid for him, but he kept his gun trained on the unsub as he listened to his partner try to grasp at the deep roots of his crisis negotiation knowledge. He would let Aaron try this tactic, try talking, but he wasn’t planning to let it go on too long.

Any move at all and he was shooting. He was not fucking around.

“Malachai thinks he's so smart,” Ashby said, and in the flare of the flashlight on her face Derek could see tears and the flash of the gun. She had it to her own head now. “And so do you. You just think he's so great.”

“He is smart,” Aaron whispered, hissing when Spencer moved against his side. His ribs flared pure white hot pain, and there was a nagging pull in his hip that felt like fire. “But so are you. I read your article on BTK in the school newspaper. Your analysis was...” his eyes closed for a moment and he almost gave in. His vision was swimming, going from black to gray, spotted with flashing lights. The pain in his head was almost overwhelming. “I'm sorry. My head hurts quite a lot, Ashby. Your analysis of BTK was fascinating. You um...” he sucked in a ragged breath. “You asked me questions about switching programs. If you haven't made up your mind yet, you're surrounded by the best team of profilers the FBI has, and I'm sure they'd love to talk to you. If you could just...” Aaron went limp mid-sentence, unable to hold on any longer. The pain in his head was shredding his conscious. Rossi quickly pushed him over entirely onto Spencer so he could get his own gun. Things were going to happen fast if he wasn't able to continue.

Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron, holding his entire body up as long as he could.

“Just what?” Ashby asked, her voice thick with tears. “I just love you so much. Don't you see that? Don't you see how good I could be for you? You need someone to take care of you. Who appreciates you.”

Derek scowled and primed his trigger finger, feeling slighted by the attack. As if he wasn’t a good partner. As if he wasn’t everything Aaron needed and more. As if their relationship was trivial and meaningless.

“Agent Hotchner isn't able to speak right now. You hurt him very badly. We need to get him to a hospital...would you put down your weapon and come with us?” Rossi didn't even flinch, didn't hesitate when he called Aaron Agent, and Ashby frowned.

“You mean Professor Hotchner. He's retired. He's finished with you.”

“Right. I'm sorry, just a force of habit. I've known him for many years.”

“Let me see him.”

“No. He's hurt. Ashby, you need to put the weapon down.”

It didn't take long before she decided she was being lied to, that they were concealing something under the shroud of dark. That something about Rossi didn't sit well, that Aaron was being kept from her on purpose. That he was simply pretending to be hurt so she would listen to them and do as they said. Just hiding from her.

Or maybe dead, and if he was dead then she had nothing left. All of this was for nothing. That thought did her in, and soon after the bullets were flying again madly into the darkness. She didn't really intend to kill anyone, she had her eyes closed. She really just wanted them to kill her. If Aaron was gone she had nothing left.

Derek felt a bullet graze his arm, slicing hot fire through his skin like a molten knife. He did not miss this part of it. This bullshit. He really fucking hated being shot at, and he hated actually getting hit even more.

“Spencer,” Aaron whispered, grappling with consciousness. The sound of Derek crying out that he'd been hit stirred something in him that had been dormant a long time now. He could feel it vibrating in him. “My gun...”

“No way. Morgan will kill me.”

“Spencer...now.”

He managed to grab his ankle holster, his familiar friend, and in the madness he could somehow make out Ashby's face flickering in the flashlights and gunfire. His vision was red, eyelashes sticky with blood, but his sight...he knew he would hit her. He had the only vantage point that was a sure success, no tanks or other pieces of large equipment in the way. Some feeling, a strange icy feeling, flowed from his shoulder to his fingers and he knew...

Bullets were flying, she was going to hit one of them soon. He could hear Derek's voice, mad as a damn hornet, and he knew that for now Derek was okay. Hurt, yes, but not dying. Not yet. He had to do it now or she was going to kill someone. If he hesitated. And that someone might be Derek...his righteous anger coursed through him.

He aimed his sight right between her eyes and clicked down just a notch, just enough to put her down without killing her. He didn't want to kill her, he felt sad for her. He felt guilty for whatever he'd done to make her feel this way. But he was also angry that this entire situation was happening at all. She fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, a heavy thud, blood seeping out of a wound in her shoulder. She didn't try to get back up, didn't even try to move. She just cried.

“Is he dead?” she asked at the sound of the gun being kicked out of the way of her hand. “Is Aaron dead?”

“No. He shot you.” JJ's voice, stern and uncharacteristically cold, rang clear through the new unsettled silence. He could hear Ashby laugh, then, and it sent a chill down his spine. Laughing and crying.

“But he didn't kill me...” she sang quietly, smiling. “He must love me. He didn't kill me.”

“I will if you don't shut the fuck up,” Derek spat, walking past her with his hand covering the wound on his arm. Blood pooled between his fingers and the feel of it just made him angrier. He wasn't an FBI Agent and he sure as shit didn't have to watch himself anymore. This was fucked up and he was pissed. No, he wasn't going to shoot her, he had no desire to go to prison himself but he'd be damned if he was going to sit there while she spouted off about how much Aaron must love her if he had the shot and didn't take it.

Meanwhile, Aaron lay slumped against Spencer, the smell of gunpowder fresh in his nostrils. “...'m gonna be sick...” he mumbled seconds before emptying the contents of his stomach all over the ground where Spencer had been moments before. His reflexes were just sharp enough to save him from that. Derek rushed to where Aaron was, sat down beside him while he tried to get the sick feeling to pass, and frowned.

“What'd you have to go and chase this chick for huh? You couldn't wait?”

“Didn't chase her. She would...she was going to kill Malachai...did you get him? Is he safe?”

“Yeah, man. We got him, he was in the closet in the photo lab. He's with Tara now. What the hell happened? You said you wanted to show Reid something and next thing I know you're unconscious at the bottom of a stairwell...”

“I showed Reid the chocolates...my office...she walked in...it’s the student I had lunch with, Derek. The coffee...the chocolates...she wanted to...to show me something down here…” Malachai, he thought. She was going to show him what she’d done to Malachai. He gagged painfully again, this time a strangled sob escaped along with it. His chest hurt so bad. It had been a long time since he'd had a head injury that made him sick. “She let Reid go, but he followed us. When she went after him, they were near the stairwell. I got her off of him, and she threw me down the stairs. She didn't mean to hurt me...said she was sorry before she ran...she said she loved me...I didn't even know her name until today and she said she loved me...” He wasn't crying, exactly, but he was damn close. This was too much, it was just too fucking much. What was it about him that made people behave this way? Foyet? Peter Lewis? Now this?

“Looks like we need to start up our hand-to-hand training again huh?” Derek asked, keeping his voice as casual and light as he could. He pulled Aaron close to him. Just having him close right now was all he really wanted. The sound of his body hitting the ground, the silence that followed, it made him feel hollow inside. “You need a refresher course.”

They wheeled Ashby out on a stretcher and she stared at them sitting on the floor waiting their turn, at Derek holding Aaron there by his side. The sight of her made him angry all over again. But he won, he was the one who got to hold Aaron. Who got to take him home and kiss him and love him. It was childish of him to be angry like this, the girl had serious problems and he did feel for her...but she’d nearly taken something from him. Something big. She’d been stalking his family, prepared to go to great lengths. She had pictures of his toddler on her laptop, pictures of Jack who had already lost one parent to violence. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share any of that with Aaron, it might be better that he didn’t know.

Aaron didn't seem to notice her passing at all, he just let his miserable head rest against Derek's shoulder. His t-shirt was cool against Aaron's too hot cheek. It would be fine if he just...closed his eyes...for a minute...

(8)

“A concussion, two broken ribs, stitches in your scalp and a pretty badly bruised up hip. You're a complete shit show, you know that?” Derek said every word with love and exhaustion competing for top spot. He thought they were past all of this, but he had to admit...it was about one million times better sitting side by side like this, knowing they would go home and lick their wounds together. Sleep in the same bed, care for each other. No one was going home alone. That was a far cry from the old days.

They both had enough sick leave stored up to take real time away from work. To heal. Hell, the university was practically throwing sick leave at Aaron to make sure he was placated. Didn’t find a reason to pursue legal action...he wasn’t even thinking about it, though. But he’d take the time off.

And they would both have to tell Jack what happened. Do that walk of shame. He was already upset, this was just going to make it unbearable. Maybe they’d take a trip, go hole up at the lake cabin for a few weeks, repair things with some quiet quality time in the woods.

“You're not so hot yourself. You have twelve stitches. That tattoo's never going to be the same.”

Derek was a little upset about that. About the bullet ripping right through his ink, but he had been thinking about a new tattoo and maybe this was the reason to do it. Have it fixed, changed to meet where he was in life now. Who he was. In the meantime, his arm hurt like a bitch. They’d stuffed it into a sling for him and while he usually ripped them right back off, this time...he was going to leave it. The way it took the pressure off eased the pain some.

“You remember what Spencer was saying a few weeks ago? About one of us getting hurt and not having rights in the hospital?”

“Me. He said me, Derek. But yes I recall the discussion.”

“Guess he wasn't so far off, huh?”

It hadn't been easy, getting in there. They had to wait in separate triage rooms, sign papers, call him the emergency contact in the interim just to move things along. It was a little insulting having their entire relationship relegated to the emergency contact line of an intake form.

“I suppose not. At least we were both conscious when we came in. It could have been a lot worse.”

“Yeah. Might not be so fortunate next time. So...I was thinking...you wanna hitch your cart to this wagon officially? Bet we could find a chaplain around here somewhere and...”

“I do want to marry you, Derek. But not in a hospital with a splitting headache and stitches in my head. Can we wait a couple of weeks?”

“I've already been waiting a lifetime, what's another couple weeks huh?”

Aaron laughed and groaned with tears in his eyes, one palm pressing into his aching side. “Don't make me laugh. Please.”

“Right. Sorry.” Derek put his arm around Aaron and rested his head against Aaron's temple. “You know, it’s pretty cool. I'm basically getting married to Indiana Jones. College professor who likes to throw down a little action montage in his spare time. You haven't lost anything in your old age, even if you do eat Tums with your coffee and think I don’t see it.”

“Derek…” Aaron began, ready to tell him he was having second thoughts about the whole school thing. About teaching. Derek seemed to know without him saying a word.

“Okay okay. Let's go home, the team is coming over for dinner tonight and I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before they take over our house. We’ll talk about the future career path of Aaron Hotchner afterward...”

It was 3am. The last time they'd seen 3am like this...well they couldn't remember. They were beat. Aaron thought he might even be able to get more than three hours of sleep.

(x)

The noise level in their small house was almost deafening, and Aaron was for once glad that the hearing in his right ear was slowly giving out. He was propped up on the couch with ice on his hip (and his head) while Derek and Jack ushered anyone who wanted it around for the grand tour. There wasn't much to it, the house wasn't large. It was the perfect size, old woodwork, simple neutral design, Aaron's damn boats. The kids' rooms had more personality than anywhere else except the backyard which was a sight to behold. Derek had built boxes and boxes while Aaron filled them with dirt and plants and life. They had a hammock that stretched between two old maple trees that would blanket their yard in gold to be raked up once autumn hit.

“Your house is nice,” Emily said, plopping down on the couch beside Aaron. He let out a little whimper at the jarring movement and nodded.

“It is.”

“I don't know what I pictured, really...but this isn't it. It's so...”

“Normal?”

“Yeah. Normal. You and your fucking boats...what's with that anyway?” She was staring at a painting of an old boat hull over the mantle. Gray and brown wood set against shocking green water and huge evergreens. He followed her gaze and smiled.

“My grandfather painted that. He had a cabin on a lake in northern Idaho, and there's this boat that was sunk there. The Tyee II. You can still see the hull today, it's sunk in this little bay. It was the last wood-burning tugboat on the lake, hauling logs to the Diamond Matchstick Company. He sat on the beach and painted this right after my grandmother told him she was pregnant with my father and wanted to move back to Virginia to be closer to her family. When I lived in Seattle, Haley and I took a trip over to that lake. We stayed in a gorgeous resort and managed to find our way up the eastern side of the lake all the way to the wreckage of this boat...it looks almost the same now, a little worse for the wear but preserved shockingly well. On the mantle, there's a framed photo of Haley in the water beside the boat as it was when we went.”

“Okay, warn me next time you're going to give me a history lesson...” she smirked, tossing back the rest of the blood red wine in her glass. “I'm kidding. That's amazing. Sometimes I wonder why I decided not to have roots like this. But then I look at Derek's face yesterday when he saw you on the ground and I know...I can't do that.”

“You could.”

“I don't want to.”

“That's fine. You don't have to.” He let out a small sigh and leaned to the side, resting heavy against her. He was too tired to support himself any longer. Everything hurt. “I saw the way you looked at me yesterday.”

“Yeah. Don't you ever...ever do anything stupid like that again. I have Luke and Matt to break down doors and make stupid fucking decisions now, I don't need you and Morgan adding to my troubles. God. Seriously, Hotch. Tell Emily I’m sorry?! What were you thinking?!”

“Where is Matt?”

“Oh, he's on leave, his wife just had another kid. They have so many, like probably a whole sports team...all adorable. With him out, I thought I was in the clear...wasn't going to have anyone trying to get themselves killed for a while...”

Aaron smiled. “There's nowhere to add any more gray hairs, you’re all full up.”

“Oh, fuuuuuuuuuuuck you asshole. You retire and move in with someone you love and you think you suddenly have jokes?” She didn't move though, not even when he started to feel heavy. Not even when she wanted more wine but his head was on her shoulder and she could feel his shallow, pained breaths starting to slow and even out. She just managed to flag down Tara who refilled her glass for her, offering a sweet little wink for her trouble. “You know, you guys could consult for us sometimes. No field work, for the love...no field work. But you could consult, if you wanted to. Having you two doing some of the thinking really helped us out. You saved that kid.”

“The team saved him,” Aaron corrected, his eyes drifting shut. “He would never have been in trouble...you never would have been there if not for me. It was all my fault.” His head hurt so bad, he just wanted to sleep. Not allowed to watch television or even read, not allowed to do much of anything but live life as a fixture on the couch for a few days...he didn't miss this. Not even a little. He could hear Jack in the kitchen telling Tara about him being little and knowing that his dad got hurt by whatever meal they had when he got home. If he was okay, they would cook. If he wasn't, it was hot dogs or canned soup. Something that required minimal effort, minimal time, minimal standing. Or Jessica would stay and cook them something, but he didn't like that as much because hurt dad didn't bother forcing him to eat vegetables the way aunt Jess did.

He peered into the swirling house, a sea of people in shapes and colors and sizes that confused his rattled brain and smiled. This house had seen its fair share of gatherings with Derek's family, or co-workers, Jack's friends, preschoolers for Hank's birthday...but it was a strange comfort having this particular group of people all under their roof. Luke and Spencer were standing and admiring the Tyee painting over the fireplace with their hands locked together (while Luke asked Spencer if he knew about all of Aaron's marksmanship awards and wondering if he could talk Derek into some hand to hand time just to see if he could take him), JJ and Tara were entertaining Jack in the kitchen, Penelope hadn't put Hank down the entire time she'd been in the house. She was glued to him, and he was thrilled to have someone to babble to about everything he loved. Aaron was a little worried she might try to stuff him in her purse when it came time to leave. He was pretty attached to the little guy. Derek and Dave were out back smoking cigars while Derek asked him for landscaping advice he didn't really need, he just liked to listen to Dave talk. He missed that. Dave had landscapers and groundskeepers who did the work for him, but he was the one who spent all the time dreaming up his spaces. He lived for entertaining, for filling his home with people he loved, and Derek thought now he understood exactly why. Their home never felt lonely, and it was rarely quiet, but this was a special kind of alive that he didn’t realize he was missing. These old friendships, they were missed.

“We're going to get married, you know.” Aaron whispered it, already half asleep, through barely parted lips. Emily nodded and hummed. “Soon. You'll come back for that won't you?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world." She paused, licking her lips and glancing around the room at all of these people she loved who seemed so at home in this place they'd never been. Home wasn't a place, it was people, she'd come to learn that the hard way. "Are you happy, Hotch? Even after all of this? You’re really really happy with this life?” She couldn’t shake it, that guilty feeling that in the morning they’d all go back to Virginia and she’d return to her office that used to be his office. Her desk that was his desk. She needed to hear him say he wanted it this way. He would choose this way again and again. She needed it like she needed air.

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding. “Yes. I am. Stop worrying. Let me sleep."

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #spencer reid #emily prentiss #the bau team

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iguessitsjustme · 2 years

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Big Dragon Ep 5 Thoughts

-This continues to be the only show I do this for. It greatly increases my enjoyment of the show to post like this and I cannot explain why. I wish y’all could see and hear my reactions in real time though because they’re kind of hilarious. Anyway time for my favorite assholes!

-I cannot lie. I love this opening song. And the visuals. It has no business being this good.

-Unrelated but the wind is so strong right now I’m pretty sure it just blew through my building. I felt a breeze and a receipt blew across my table and onto my floor. I should probably be concerned but this is one of those situations where I have no control so whatever is gonna happen is gonna happen and there’s no use stressing about it. I’ll probably be fine.

-Oh so Mangkorn was telling her no and she wasn’t listening. I mean he could have removed her at any time but I don’t blame him for wanting her to LISTEN. Considering this show started with a mutual sexual assault there is an insanely good amount of consent.

-This is no longer the Bad Buddy song. The soundtrack has changed. Love that.

-Of COURSE it starts raining. Why wouldn’t it?

-YES. KEEP PUNCHING EACH OTHER. VIOLENCE.

-Oh look. They’re fucking again. Thought it was weird that it was taking so long for them to fuck again. *eats Cheetos*

-Oh no not the model!

-Can he cook for me?

-Oh this is so sweet. He made Yai a dish his mother used to make for him when we all know Yai has been particularly missing his mother lately. A mother’s love comes in all forms.

-Aw they’re treating each other’s wounds. That they caused. They really went from punching each other in the face to fucking with no steps in between.

-They make each other better and they make each other worse.

-For the love of god, please do not just throw away the sd card with your sex tape on it. If you want it gone, properly destroy it. Who knows who will go digging through yall’s trash.

-Are they communicating? What’s happening. Or their version of communicating.

-These boys always eat seaweed snacks. What would happen if I fed them a cheeto?

-Y’all literally just had an intense fucking session and y’all are shocked by the kiss while eating the seaweed?

-Caught in the ACT.

-I may or may not be in love with Mangkorn’s mother. Her facial expressions are sending me. I’ve been launched into orbit. I want to go get drinks with this woman.

-At least they weren’t having sex when she walked in. Can you IMAGINE?

-Y’all really broke everything while fucking. His mom was probably concerned. Probably thought he’d been robbed or was hurt. And she comes home to find y’all kissing over some seaweed.

-BODYGUARDS. They don’t video call from the void like Yai’s father. Seriously. Why did he call from the void?

-The amount I love Park and Pong is absurd.

-None of these three know how to clean.

-Boy was thinking about dick while eating that corn dog. Horny jail.

-Oh here comes the drama. It’s payback for making me watch you thinking about dick while eating that corn dog with my own two eye holes . It’s KARMA.

-Please for the love of god, let Hong be a lesbian. It’s all I want.

-Mangkorn, let me help you with your words “I do not like Hong. We grew up together and are close. There is some family stuff I need to sort out before I can tell you more, but I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me.” There done. You don’t gotta tell him everything but geez you gotta give him something. He’s an insecure little baby.

-Is this…communication?

-This scene is too long. It’s too long of just people standing on talking.

-They're just hurting each other. But this time with words instead of fists.

-Oh no. No no no no no no no. You stop that. You put that microphone down. Don’t make me go over there. If you start singing I swear to god

-Yai is such a little drama queen.

-DO NOT SING. WHY. WHAT DID I DO TO DEAERVE THIS.

-Fast forwarding is the best thing that’s ever happened.

-You see. This is why you shouldn’t give a drunk person a microphone.

-That caterpillar is so random.

-Nine is cute. He’s too nice for Yai though. Only Mangkorn for Yai. Only assholes for assholes.

-This scene is so precious though. Of course Mangkorn is gonna catch them kissing. Are they kissing? Where else would the drama come from? His arranged marriage? No that would be too obvious.

-End of episode. Next week looks promising. Love that for us.

#big dragon #big dragon the series #big dragon bl #i really didn't expect to love this show so much but here i am

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brokenjere · 2 years

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bad in the bones (c.f) (part 1)

an: ok, i think i finally am happy with at least this first part! I've been working on this fic for weeks now, trying to perfect it and be happy with it but it just was not coming together nicely at all but finally, i think i did it. i hope you guys like it, i teased it a little bit a while ago so lmk when you guys think!!

synopsis: after an earth-shattering breakup, yn joins her cousin Belly for their summer trip to Cousins beach.

catch up here

Two months ago, I was throwing t-shirts across my bedroom, tears streaming down my face, screaming at the love of my life. Josh was leaning against my closed door, his arms crossed over his chest and his head hanging low. “I just think we should see other people,” he said to me. See other people. Ha. What a freaking cop-out.

“Just tell me you don’t love me,” I yelled at him. I threw his ACDC shirt that found its home inside of me closet. It was one of those mass-produced t-shirts from Target. I bet he had never even heard an ACDC song before. He was fake like that, it was one of his least desirable traits.

“I do love you, but we’re about to go to college and I think we need to, I don’t know, spread out wings.” I scoffed and slammed the closet door shut, the framed photos of us I had hanging on the wall shook from the pressure. I grabbed it, looking down at our smiling faces and I threw it in the trash. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Seriously.”

Josh didn’t stay long after that, probably would rather be seeing other people than being screamed at by his girlfriend, ex-girlfriend, of three years. We spent all of high school together but somehow, college was just too much. I think he just didn’t want to go to Columbia together like we planned and never applied like he told me and needed a cheap excuse to get out of it.

I went to prom stag and alone with only my best friend, Mallory, on my arm but she had her own date. Lucy. Lucy was the picture-perfect girlfriend. I bet she wouldn’t lie to Mallory or break up with her a few weeks before prom and graduation and the end of their high school experience. I bet Lucy would have at least waited until after. Not that I wanted Mallory to be dumped. I was bitter, sure, but she was still my best friend.

Graduation didn’t treat me much better, either. My mom didn’t even bother to show up which would probably bother any normal kid but I was used to my mom never being home. At least this time, she was away at work with an actual excuse. I hated that I watched Josh shift in his seat down the row from me. I hate that my heart still fluttered when I watched him walk the stage and flip over his tassel and smile at the camera and I hated that I wanted to see his parents photo dump of the day. He had good parents. Solid ones that showed up.

My aunt Laurel showed up, though. Mostly because Steven was graduating, too, but I like to think she wanted to watch me walk the stage as well. She clapped really loud and stood up and hooted and hollered and I couldn’t help but laugh at her and my younger cousin, Belly. They made me feel happy and whole and complete. I didn’t even glance in Josh’s direction.

The four of us went to get ice cream after, Steven and I in our caps and gown and Belly in her little summery dress and Laurel, always too dressed up for the occasion. “We did it,” Steven sighed as he sat down next to me at a little table outside of the ice cream shop. “Thank god.” I laughed and we cheered our spoons together and dug into our ice cream. That was when Laurel asked me to join them on their annual summer trip to Cousins beach right smack dab in the middle of Cape Cod.

“Your mother will be gone most of the summer anyway, and we don’t want you to be alone,” Laurel said, reaching out and grabbing my hand over the table. I knew she meant well but what was I? A pity case now that I was dumped, borrowed, and bruised? If Josh never left, I bet she wouldn’t be asking me this. “Come with us, it’ll be fun. It’s Steven’s and Conrad’s last summer before they go off to college, too. What do you say?”

I looked over at Belly. My Belly. While Mallory was my best friend, Belly was like my sister. My mom was always the bad sister. The flaky sister. The one that left her kid alone all weekend while she ran off with her new boytoy of the month. She wasn’t always that way, though. My parents got divorced when I was a freshman in high school and I hadn’t seen my dad since. I was too young to be let in on what was a disaster of a marriage, but judging by my mom’s early mid-life crisis, it was probably bad. They got married too young. Had me too young. Maybe if me and Josh stayed together, I’d have ended up like her, too.

I spent a lot of time with Belly growing up. Even though she was a year younger than me, it never felt like she was that much younger. There were moments, like when I got my period and her eyes widened when I told her. I ended up having to confide in Aunt Laurel because Belly got queasy at the thought of blood but at least I was able to give her a tampon when she got hers in the middle of gym class in the 6th grade.

Her face lit up while Laurel waited for my answer. Steven shrugged, not really caring too much if I said yes or no. I think secretly he wanted me to agree because he caught my eye at the last second and gave me a micro-nod that maybe no one else would have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s do it,” I finally conceded. Belly clapped and hugged me over the table. My tassels dipped into my hot fudge and I laughed as Belly profusely apologized, handing me napkins to wipe it off. “It’s fine, Bells. Not like I’m ever gonna wear it again.”

She turned red and looked back in her ice cream and Laurel squeezed my hand once again. “We leave next week, okay? I’ll pick you up.”

That’s how I ended up here, in the Conklin’s station wagon, listening to Belly’s music and bad signing and holding on for dear life as Steven drives. “I can’t believe you let him drive,” I whisper to Laurel as we sit in the backseat. She laughs and waves me off.

“Belly turn that down,” she tells her daughter. “We’re almost at the gas station.” Belly does as her mom says and Steven listens to her directions on how to get to the gas station. Belly explained to me earlier that every year they stop at this same gas station, stock up on snacks for the last half hour of the drive and get all the essentials that you can’t get in the small, fancy town of Cousins. “Cousins is for the rich,” she said to me.

The first person I meet in Cousin’s is a gas station employee who looks far too old to be working at a gas station and certainly not rich. He checks out Belly and I as we grab our Diet Coke and Cheetos, his eyebrows churning up in interest.

He looks like he belongs in the city, not the beaches of Cape Cod. Maybe he’s a summer kid, like the rest of them. Neither my mom nor Laurel grew up particularly wealthy. My mom got lucky marrying my dad, who was a coding genius and got a fantastic job right out of college and was able to provide anything and everything we needed or the first fifteen years of my life. When Mom realized the marriage was going down the toilet, she got her own job that took up too much of her time and when she finally had enough saved, we left. The Conklins weren’t Cape Cod rich, either, Laurel just got lucky by finding her person in Susannah Fisher who was Cape Cod rich.

Belly looks like she recognizes him maybe just a little and says, “he lives a few houses down from Susannah’s. The boys hang out with him every once in a while.”

I eye him up from the chip isle as he counted money behind the register. I guess he wasn’t that ugly but he surely wasn’t my type. My type was tall boys with floppy hair and terrible personalities. Apparently. “Are you guys friends?” I ask her. She shakes her head and looks at me with disgust, her nose crinkled up so far her blackheads were popping out. I laugh.

“No. Maybe Jeremiah and Conrad consider him a friend but he’s always been kind of weird around me,” she says. “I never really fully fit in with the boys, especially not now that they’re older.”

Her life in Cousins has always been something Belly kept mostly to herself. She tells me stories here and there and I hear from her a couple of times over the summer but other than that, it was strictly for her and the boys. Just the way she liked it. I feel guilty for crashing their party but how can I say no when Belly was looking at me with all that hope.

“Well, he’s eyeing you up now,” I tell her. She glances over at the boy behind the counter and blushes a little. “Is that a little red I see, Conklin?”

“No,” she insists, shaking her head as she grabs a bag of Cheetos. “Let’s go.”

We walk up to the counter and set all our stuff down. The boy's name tag reads Jumper. That’s a stupid name. He smiles at us and says, “Belly, you’re back.” It was a statement, not a question. Belly’s back. The world is right.

She nods and he looks over at me. “That’s my cousin, YN.” Belly tells him as she fiddles with her fingers, eager for him to get the transaction over with.

“You guys should come to my bonfire tonight. You know the one, Belly. The first of the season.” He looks at her and she looks down at the counter and I interject.

“We’ll be there.” Her head shoots up to look at me just as Laurel comes up behind us. She grabs Belly’s ponytail and twirls it around her finger as she deposits a mound of snacks on the counter. Chips. Soda. Candy. “Did you pay?” She asks, looking at the counter. We shake our heads and Jumper starts scanning. Everyone is quiet while Laurel is around.

When we go to leave, he says, “see you guys later.”

“What’s later?” Laurel asks once we’re outside.

“Nothing,” Belly tells her quickly. Quick enough to dismiss her but not quick enough to make her less curious. Laurel doesn’t say anything, though.

She hands us the snacks she bought and tells us she’s going to run to the bathroom and once we’re alone I tell her, “yes, yes, oh my god, yes we should go” but she keeps waving me off because Isobel Conklin is not a partier.

She is a quiet, keeps to herself, too scared of her own body, heart, and soul, kind of girl. She is my opposite and that's why I love her.

She is the good to my wickedness, the sunshine to my rainy day, the angel sitting on my shoulder. She’s all the things that my mother hoped I would be and all the things she resents that I am not.

She sits in the front seat and I sit in the back while we wait for her brother.. She pulls down the visor and looks at herself in the mirror. I lean forward and say, “you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “Nobody has hit on me before like that.”

“What do you mean? You’re hot.”

“I guess he’s never hit on me like that before,” she clarifies. He meaning Jumper. “Not that I want him to.”

“Because you’re waiting for Conrad Fisher, right?” I laugh as she blushes again. I grab the band that’s holding her ponytail in place and pull it out of her hair, letting her long brown hair cascade her shoulders. I shake it out for her and then say, “you’ll get him this year.”

Anyone that knows Belly Conklin knows that Conrad Fisher is the man of her dreams. I’ve never met him, but Belly talks about him like he’s the sun. Like he created the entire solar system just for her to look at. It made me want to know him. I wanted someone to create a solar system for me, too. Josh never created anything for me, let alone the entire universe.

Once Steven gets in the car, he starts driving again. Belly and I sing at the top of our lungs to the bad radio tunes. Steven can’t turn the radio down quiet enough. The quieter it goes, the louder we get. Laurel just laughs next to me in the back and I use my Coke bottle as a microphone, handing it over to her to sing. She just laughs harder and shakes her head so I take it back.

It feels like only minutes until we’re at the ocean. I can smell it through the window and taste it in the air. I hope that it’ll be enough to drown out all my darkness.

The second, third, and fourth people I meet in Cousin’s are the Fishers. The infamous Fishers. Susannah, Laurel’s best friend from college, and her two boys: Conrad and Jeremiah. It was like meeting a figment of my imagination. All the stories Belly has told me throughout the years finally have faces.

Susannah is a lot prettier than in the photos I’ve seen. She has a smile that made my core feel warmer than the East Coast sun and she hugged me so tight I felt like I was gonna burst open. She’s nothing like my mother described her: snotty, stuck up, spoiled, rotting my sister to her core.

All my life, she has talked about Susannah as if she was the plague. Stay away from her, she warned whenever I brought her up. I always thought she was the prettiest woman I have ever seen. Her blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, and gorgeous smile. Laurel would tell me and Belly stories about her whenever I slept over and Belly used to talk about her with more admiration than she talked about her own mother. I think my mom was just jealous. That her sister had a person that wasn’t her. That her person was fun and exciting and had more money than my mom and Laurel ever grew up with. That my mom never found her person.

Jeremiah is blonde, like his mom. A curly, blonde mop on the top of his head with a freckled smile and bright blue eyes. He twirls Belly around in a hug, happy to see her just like everyone else. When he sees me, he smiles like he has known me his entire life and gives me a hug. “Belly’s told me so much about you,” he says. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Really?” I ask, peaking over at Belly. She shrugs as if she was being caught. I thought it was sweet she talked about me when I wasn’t around.

“Of course!” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and brings me over to where Steven was standing. While Jeremiah and Steven talk about throwing Belly in the pool, another boy who I assume is Conrad, walks into the driveway.

Belly is immediately enthralled with him, as am I. He’s tall. His dark brown hair flops over his eyes and he uses one hand to push it out of his line of sight. He stops when he sees her and then I have to look away because Steven is talking to me. “What?” I ask.

“Are you gonna help us with the Belly flop?” He asks, looking at me expectedly. I nod, not really understanding what they were saying until all three boys were grabbing Belly by her flailing limbs and carrying her to the backyard. I followed, half laughing and half gawking at the house I’d be staying at for the summer.

The house is big, and white, and has a huge front porch. The windows are massive and the backyard has a giant pool that Belly was about to get tossed into. I run my fingers along the lounge chairs on the patio, the metal warming my skin. The splash in front of me hit my face and I wipe it with the back of my hand and laugh as Belly pretends to have hurt her ankle in the water. I can see the smirk on her face from over here but Conrad must think she’s serious because he reaches his hand down to her and as she grabs it, she pulls him into the pool making another splash of water. As they struggle under the water, Jeremiah and Steven lose interest and talk amongst themselves, slowly walking away. “Wait,” I say, making Steven turn around. “Show me around?” They both smile and nod and I follow them inside.

Susannah lets me pick whatever room I want. There are at least three spare bedrooms not in use and I grab the one with the nicest view of the backyard and ocean. I can hear the waves crashing through the open window. I unpack my bags, tossing them all in the big white dresser on the opposite side of the room. The mirror on top was bigger than necessary and more clear than my own eyes and suddenly, I see how dark the circles under my eyes were. I don’t even remember when the last time I slept through the night was. Most of them I spent staying up, crying and wallowing in my own self pity which is an embarrassing thing to admit which is why I never told anyone. I tell Mallory: I’m fine, screw him I’m over it. I hope he sleeps with every girl in the city and finds what he’s looking for. Truthfully, I hope he’s so miserable and alone that he crawls all the way to Cousins beach on his hands and knees and begs for me back just so I can tell him no.

I almost want to crawl into the bed, soft as a cloud, and sleep until the sun comes up and the birds chirp. Instead, I head downstairs where Laurel, Susannah, and Belly are in the kitchen. Susannah is drying Belly’s hair with a towel at the kitchen island and Laurel is unpacking the groceries we picked up on the way there.

“Laurel, your girls are gonna give all of Cousins a run for their money,” Susannah says. “They’re both so beautiful.” I smile and take a seat next to Belly at the island. “They both look just like you.” Susannah smooths down my hair with one of her hands and smiles at me, winking.

Laurel smiles at both of us and comes over to me, kisses the top of my head, and then twirls her finger through Belly’s wet hair. “Don’t let that get to their head,” Laurel says. I see her wink at Susannah as she brushes her fingers through Belly’s hair.

“Do you have enough groceries there, Laur?” Susannah teases. I look at all the food that Laurel unpacked already and the full bag she has sitting on the counter still. We kind of went a little crazy in the grocery store, grabbing all the sweets we could find and throwing them in the cart. Belly told me her mom never says no on their annual Cousins shopping spree. It was true, Laurel bought every single thing we put in the cart.

“It’s not like your little fancy market in town has Diet Coke,” Laurel says as she puts the two cases we got into the fridge.

“We’ll get some good muffins in the morning,” Susannah says. “I’ll send Connie to town.” The good muffins I had heard about. Belly boasted about them every summer, sending me artistically crafted photos of them before she devoured them a few seconds later. “They are the best muffins in the world,” Belly always told me.

There were a lot of traditions that happened over the summers that would all be brand new to me and part of that makes me feel left out as if I was the odd man out, tagging along for a little adventure while this was their life. I never had the good muffins. I didn’t know what movie Belly and the moms watched every year on the first night. I didn’t know there was the first night of summer bonfire. But all these details were their normal and I sank into the chair, trying to disappear.

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher one shot #conrad fisher rec #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #tsitp conrad #the summer i turned pretty imagine #jeremiah fisher x reader

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tokkiheart · 2 years

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My Comfort Drama List

I think I just really enjoy making lists right now lol

Anyway, I’m currently in pain thanks to period cramps, so I decided now is the time to make and share a list of my personal go-to comfort K-dramas. You’ll notice some intersectionality between it and my previous list of favorite shows that I like to return to.

Shopping King Louie (aka Shopaholic Louis)

Coming in as a surprise to no one (literally no one because no one follows me right now lol) is this super cute fluffy rom-com drama. This drama is just absolutely hilarious and because the closest things to “villains/bad guys/antagonists” in this show are so inept/bad, it’s really makes the show’s tenser moments kind of low-stakes, but in a good way. I never found myself really worried for long.

Louis and Bok-shil just have the cutest most wholesome relationship, Louis is such an adorably loyal and protective puppy of a guy and Bok-shil is honestly a saint for taking care of his amnesiac self even though it was extremely difficult and trying for her. This show is a trope-fest filled with some of my favorite tropes, it’s also hilarious and never fails to bring a smile to my face.

Overall, just a great drama to watch! I will never stop recommending this show to anyone who will listen to me lol

W: Two Worlds Apart (aka just “W”)

Another show that will come as a surprise to no one. This is a comfort show for me, I don’t know if it is for anyone else.

I find that I run to this drama a lot, I don’t know why. I love the premise of this show and it’s pretty “whumpy” (I may be using that term incorrectly, one of my best friends just recently introduced me to it), I love how whenever Oh Yeon Joo thinks (or knows) that Kang Cheol is hurt or about to be killed, she runs to save him. I love re-watching the whole show, but sometimes I just want to re-watch my favorite episodes just for the cute romantic fluff moments between them.

As someone who happens to be a fan of Lee Jong-suk, this drama also gives me great eye candy. I dunno what it is about that all-denim outfit (among other outfits), but boy does it do things to my heart lol Between it and his winks, nose scrunches and smile, I’m sold every time lol

Sometimes, a comfort show for me is also just a show where I get to look at the eye candy and that’s okay.

My Roommate Is A Gumiho

This K-Drama is one that I consider a comfort drama because I like to watch it on days like today. To be clear, it’s not the only reason that I watch it, it’s just one of the reasons. It’s the only K-Drama that I’ve encountered so far that has a scene where the female lead is on her period and the male lead takes care of her. What can I say? I’m weak for that.

In general though, this show has some nice hurt-comfort scenes that just make me soft which are built-in just due to the female lead having the male lead’s fox bead/marble. This show is also quite hilarious and enjoyable to watch. I enjoy turning my brain off and just enjoying the hilariously fun ride of this drama.

My Strange Hero

Honestly, I first decided to watch this because I saw scenes from it in a multi-K-Drama edit set to the song “Adore You” by Harry Styles that I came across on YouTube. I definitely don’t regret it!

The romance in this is really cute and sweet, there’s some great fluff! This show also has some wonderful comedy mixed in amidst the fluff, heartwarming moments, trying parts, etc.

As someone who is going to school to become a teacher, I found this drama to have a wholesome teacher-class dynamic. I’m trash for the trope of a kind, caring teacher who works really hard to help a struggling class or student do better (my love for the anime Assassination Classroom is additional proof of this). Additionally, I love the plot of taking down/dismantling/fixing a corrupt school and faculty.

Why is this on my comfort list? Well, sometimes I like being reminded of why I want to be a teacher and watching something heartwarming and inspiring like this helps to remind me when I’m not actively working with children lol

Romance Is A Bonus Book

Lee Jong-suk is back on this list with another drama, partially for eye candy reasons, but mainly because I adore this cozy drama lol I could potentially ctrl+v what I said in one of my other lists, but I’m very specifically going to talk about why it’s on this list.

This show has some of my favorite tropes for a comfort drama and it also talks about books the process behind them being made. As someone who loves reading and who used to turn to books as a way to escape many things (including my ADHD) as a child, I found this drama also having to do with books brings a sense of nostalgia and comfort to me.

Aside from that, I adore the relationship between the main lead (Eun-ho and Dan-i). I loved how kind and supportive Eun-ho was and how he just cheered on Dan-i, worried about her and wanted to help her. I found the show to be quite wholesome despite it being quite different from my usual go-to dramas.

As I have said before, this drama leaves me with a very specific vibe that’s akin to cozying up with a good book while wrapped in a blanket with a warm drink set to the side. It’s just…a warm and cute drama with plenty of romantic fluff ❤️

Extra-Ordinary You

This K-Drama is a another drama that I really enjoy watching when I'm feeling a bit low. This is the drama that introduced me to Rowoon and, by extension, SF9. This drama is cute, funny and the premise is really interesting. I don’t watch too many school dramas, but I’d definitely watch more if they were like this show!

I love the author slander in this show, I will never stop loving how the self-aware characters talk about how the author is a bad author and I find myself roped in all the time. I find myself also wanting to make jabs at the author too, especially since the author gives off “never actually went to high school” vibes lol

Anyway, I just adore the leads Ha-ru and Dan-oh. They’re super cute and I just love the romantic fluff between them.

I think the only drawback of this drama is how much I hate Dan-oh’s pre-determined-by-author romantic interest, he’s a verbally abusive piece of trash.

Anyway, Rowoon as Ha-ru does a great job of being just a cute boy and making my heart flutter along with Dan-oh’s.

Doom At Your Service

Try as I might, this drama is just forever going to pop up on my lists even though I fully admit that the 1/2 of this drama that deals with the female lead’s best friend’s love triangle is completely skip-able.

Like W and Romance Is A Bonus Book, this drama is also partially guilty of being on this list for eye candy purposes because Seo In-guk is another of my biases. Again, I’m going to keep my stance that sometimes a comfort drama is a comfort drama because of the eye candy.

I adore this drama and consider it a comfort drama. The leads did such a good job with what they were given and really any scene is made better by them being there in my opinion. I’m really just trash for hurt-comfort where just a “simple touch” can help the person in pain. I didn’t know hand holding could make me so soft. ❤️

Splash Splash Love

This drama is really good for a quick lil pick-me-up. It’s only about 2 hours long and well worth the time spent to watch! Admittedly, one reason that this drama is on my list is because it also happens to have another one of my biases, Ahn Hyo-seop, in it.

You hate math like me? Great! You’ll find a kindred spirit in the female lead of this drama. She gets transported back in time to the Joseon era after jumping into a puddle on a rainy day. While there, she has to pretend to be a eunuch mathematician in order to survive.

This drama is cute, funny, and has romantic fluff for any fluff lover!

Some Honorable Mentions:

Basically, K-Dramas that would probably be comfort shows but I haven’t re-watched them quite as many times as the ones on this list (yet).

Business Proposal

While You Were Sleeping

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-joo

Extraordinary Attorney Woo

#eye candy is good for the soul #sometimes you just need to look at your biases #kdramas #kdrama #my comfort shows #w two worlds #shopping king louie #shopaholic louis #romance is a bonus book #extra-ordinary you #extraordinary you #my roommate is a gumiho #my strange hero #doom at your service #splash splash love

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ceruleanchillin · 3 years

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When You're At The Function F***in It UP And Your Man Walks In (Mayans)

Warnings: Implied sexual content, language, fighting

Characters: Angel, Coco, & EZ

You’re on thin ice as it is sis. The little forest-green dress with the the deep plunge front and slit sides, the one that ended up purchased after your friends hyped you into it. That’s supposed to be in the trash according to one Angel Reyes. That, or reserved for private nights in.

Currently, it was wrapped around your form, helping you grab envious/admiring glances from around the room.

Your hips twisted to the layered bass, using the random behind you for stability. Your friend next to you cheered you on, her inner hype man on full display. There’s a breakdown in the song, and you lose yourself in the rhythm. Suddenly, you hear a familiar voice telling you “Superstar mama, say hi for the gram!”.

Your eyes zone in on Gilly, eyes wide. Everyone knew the Mayans rolled deep when they went anywhere. Where there was one, there was the rest. Especially when it came to the three musketeers and their wrangler, EZ.

Like you were busted sneaking back into your room as a teen, you froze. You narrowed your eyes at your friend who shrugged and mouthed sorry before disappearing.

“Gilly fuck off!” You hissed, moving away from the random. Your eyes scanning the crowded den.

Gilly laughed, tucking his phone into his kutte. “Ayy, don’t get mad at me,” he fluttered his eyelashes and fake coughed into his hand. “I don’t feel so good baby, I’m just gonna stay in tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes at his high-pitched mimicry of your last conversation with Angel.

He wasn’t even supposed to be there. Your friend swore she nixed all Mayan related invites, just for that night, on your behalf. All you wanted was to be able to turn up like you did pre-relationship. Normally you could at clubhouse parties since Angel trusted everyone there with his life. Any party outside of that was a gamble, and Angel could referee like he got a check for it.

Your eyes finally met said man’s across the party and a chill and went down your spine. Angel was propped against the wall across the way, eyes on you.

The rest of party fell away as you made your way over to him, schooling your features into your ‘what did I do daddy?’ pout.

“Nah, don’t come over with that lip poking now.” He shook his head, speaking when you were in range of him.

“And what are you doing wearing this fucking pillowcase out here? What did we talk about?” He pinched the thin strings of your dress.

“Nooo, don’t be mad. I was walking through my closet and it fell on me. Besides, you liked it when I modeled it for you.”

Angel scoffed, refusing to even entertain your comments. Coco chuckled from his spot next to his friend as he lit a cigarette.

“I thought you had club shit, I didn’t even know you’d be here.” You cringed as soon as the words left your lips, the shots you’d taken earlier still putting in work.

“I didn’t know you’d be here either. I thought you were sick. There’s some soup in the car that thought it was getting dropped off. Apparently wrong thoughts is the theme of the night.”

Petty by Angel Reyes.

“Soup? Baby, that’s so sweet.” You tried to pet his cheeks, but he was keeping you at bay.

“You aren’t even sick! Imma give that shit to Gilly.”

“Nooo.” You whined again, still trying to get him to let you touch him in some way.

“Get that bitch you were dancing with to buy you soup.” It was his turn to pout, but there was fire in his eyes as he tracked the guy you’d been dancing with. “It’s all he’s gonna be able to fucking eat in a minute anyways.”

“Sorry I blew up your spot ma, I just wanted to see my plug and get out.” Coco opened the palm of his hand not holding the cigarette and revealed a small bag of weed.

Angel snapped his head towards him, expression incredulous. “Don’t apologize to her, she lied to her man! She gave some puto hope! Get on code!”

“I love you hermano, but this is your guard dog-ass fault.” He pointedly ignored his friend’s heated glare as a girl in the doorway caught his interest, slipping away when she positively returned his gaze.

Angel’s attention was claimed by you once again when you pulled his head down towards you. You smothered his cheeks in kisses, to which he was physically unresponsive.

“I don’t know if I want you kissing on me querida.”

You rolled your eyes. Petty or not, everyone knew Angel’s life force depleted the longer he went without touching you. Even in your tipsy state you could see his fingers literally twitched with the need to take their rightful place on your hips.

“I just wanted to dance like I used to, and you don’t dance. Then you beat down guys who want to. You left me no choice, so let me have kisses.” You locked your arms around his waist, successfully avoiding his half-hearted attempts to push you away.

He scrunched up his face. “How the fuck am I catching strays in this situation? I’m the victim!”

“I’ll make it up to you later if you stop being a hatin’ wallflower and let me grind on you.” Your hips found the rhythm of the slow wind song thumping through the room.

His hands encircled your throat, drawing you closer to his person. Your pupils blew at his darkened expression, your lower half squirming with interest. He pressed his lips to yours, and the party faded to nothing again. His fingers flexed around your throat before closing just enough for him to draw the subtlest gasp from you. He felt it more than heard it over the noise, but it was enough.

He pulled away, licking his lips as you tried to remember where you were and if sin always tasted so good.

“You’ll make it up to me right now in the traitor’s car.” he held up keys you recognized to be Coco’s.

You started to protest on principle, but your body was going through withdrawals from a lite touch (for Angel). He could see the wheels turning, but you were letting him lead you out of the room, palm openly covering your ass.

“Who are you texting?” You asked, more annoyed with how his hands were no longer possessively roaming your body than a real answer.

He quickly pocketed his phone and returned his hands to you. “No one baby.” definitely not telling his boys via group chat to handle the random for him. “Stop worrying about anything other than how you’re gonna get around at work tomorrow.”

--------

It was bad enough you couldn’t make it to New Orleans due to work, and Old Lady “responsibilities”, but this petty fight you were in with Coco was the kicker. You couldn’t even remember how it started, but it escalated back and forth until you weren’t speaking and were back staying at your apartment.

Poor Letty had been reduced to messenger girl, especially now that she had a car. A tug of war with your point being “she was my girl first, that’s how we met” and his point being “she’s my kid, blood first ma” had broken out. You didn’t know what was going to wear through its welcome first, your lack of Coco, or Letty’s patience, but they were competing. It wasn’t like Coco was doing any better if your daily updates from Letty were any indication. He was impatient, tense, chain smoking, and was getting closer and closer to going through with the apology call he was openly fighting.

It wouldn’t be long before you were back to getting your back arched out of shape if that was anything to go by. Not a moment too soon if your own miserable habits were anything to go by. You wanted to use the party to distract yourself, hoping Coco would break first the following day. If not, it was sure to be you.

You spent the whole day throwing your frustrations into decorating your best friend’s backyard. It looked like the French Quarter threw up its best years, but it was the perfect backdrop to lose yourself to some bounce music.

Normally, you could goad Coco into being your twerking post, and that resistance (plus his turned on bi-lingual hypeman compliments in your ear) was everything missing at the moment.

You pouted and weaved your way out of the crowd to your friend who was busy playing good hostess.

“Ah ah, no whining. If you wanna really make it Mardi Gras, shake your ass on a dude.”

You narrowed your eyes, annoyed she shut down and solved your problem before you could whine about it. “Coco hates that shit! Plus he’s spoiled me, it won’t even be the same.”

“Coco isn’t here, and it doesn’t have to be the same, it just has to do.” She turned away from where she’d filled two shot glasses for the two of you. “Besides, we both know your ass is gonna be all in his neck crying about how you miss him tomorrow. Do your thing before you go out sad.”

She clinked shot glasses with you, pleased at her accurate assessment and your sourpuss face.

“Fuck you.” You laughed, voice rough from the burn of the shot.

“Save that for Coco.” She smacked your ass, draped one of the many beaded necklaces hanging off her shoulder around your neck, and sent you on your way back to the crowd of writhing bodies.

It was nothing to find dudes to grind on, and you fell into the synergy. You couldn’t count how many fast paced songs you’d thrown it back to, or how many guys you’d danced with. The stack of beads you’d acquired gave some idea though.

Meanwhile, Coco’s skin was alive with the kind of anger he felt. He’d been seriously contemplating coming to your place and forcing out admissions of how his life wasn’t right without you in it. He couldn’t remember who or what started it, but it didn’t even matter when your scent was starting to fade from his pillow, and his touch starvation was acting up.

All of that went careening out the window when he stumbled upon a pouty Letty, huffing and sucking her teeth at her phone. Turns out you, and “everyone in the goddamn world but me” according to Letty, were at your friend’s blowout Mardi Gras party. Coco knew it was your favorite holiday, but it was news to him that you had any plans since you couldn’t officially go this year. News he didn’t welcome at all, since all of the videos he saw you in you were throwing (his) your ass on multiple dudes. Did you think he wouldn’t fight everyone???

He was already on his bike before he’d even registered leaving the house. He sent a quick summoning call in his boy’s group chat, your friend’s address the destination.

The party was louder and wilder than the videos let on. He’d already spotted his boys by their kuttes, mingling in their respective ways, but didn’t seek them out. They’d find him if he needed them to. Coco on the other hand, needed to find you.

His eagle eyes picked apart the crowd until he spotted you twisting yourself to the rhythm. Coco didn’t know whether to shoot the asshole behind you, or take you away to deal with the feelings you were bringing out of him.

You knew he loved when you brought the South to the West Coast with your hips and ass.

He charged into your space, his hands immediately going for the guy’s arm and snatching him towards him.

“Make a choice cabrón. Get the fuck out, or be an expensive bill and sad memory for your moms by morning.” He pressed his kutte to his person, emphasizing that he was strapped.

The guy raised his palms and quickly exited the scene. Unwilling to test what clearly was a warning that Coco would happily make good on.

You tugged on him, trying to get him to move away from the crowd. Scanning those around you to see who saw or heard, you noticed more than you would’ve liked. They wouldn’t make a fuss, noting his kutte, but still.

“Stop it. What are you even doing here?” You hissed, tugging his arm harshly for his attention.

He turned his gaze, wild with adrenaline and arrogance at his victory, on you. “You should’ve stopped yourself before throwing it back on random fuckers for the internet. This is on you.”

“No, this is on you. If you hadn’t done what you did or said what you said…”. You trailed off remembering that you couldn’t recall what had happened, just the frustration.

“What did I say or do (y/n)?” He noted your visible annoyance that he’d chosen to use your real name instead of a pet name, and with a smirk, he walked you backwards until your back gently hit the fence.

Between not recalling what started the fight, and your man looking amazing, you settled on a pathetic. “You remember.”

“No I don’t, and neither do you.” that familiar prickle of intensity sparked between the two of you.

Everything between you and Coco felt like a live wire dancing back and forth. High energy moments usually ended in either great sex, or separation (sometimes by the force of your friends) to let things cool down.

“I know you’re gonna catch a case if you keep moving like that Johnny. Is that what you want?”

“Nah mujer, that ain’t what I want. I want you home where you belong, but you’re out here playing me instead.” Slender fingers tugged sharply at a few of the beaded necklaces in your stack.

You sucked your teeth and turned your head, ignoring the warm cheeks and butterflies in your stomach at his on-brand admission of missing you.

He placed a hand on the fence next to your head, grasping your chin to turn your attention back to him.

“You’re being a drama queen. I thought I was talking to Angel for a second.”

He threw his head back as laughed, and you got an almost overwhelming urge to kiss him. Or at least bury your fingers in his soft curls, they were begging for it at this po-

“Fuck that, he’s still got me beat. Wait til you see the tantrum he’s saving for you for not getting invited tonight.”

“He was, I just told her to can it because of you. He should be mad at you.” You pouted, but your tone was teasing.

“I could put in a good word for you…you know, if you’re done being petty.” He leaned in, running his lips over the shell of your ear.

“Or I could just offer to throw it back on him to make him forget.”

It was your turn to laugh when Coco tensed, and pulled back from where he’d been teasing you with light touches. You didn’t love him no longer touching you, but faltering him made it almost worth it.

“Or you could take me home and we could both forget…” you clutched at his kutte, leaning into him.

He pulled your hands away by your wrists, his thumbs rubbing over your pulse points.

“Nah, if dancing is this fucking important to you, come on then.” He pulled you after him.

“Cocooo,” you whined, more interested in getting him to touch you again. “Take me home already.”

“My lady wants to dance.” He sat on the outdoor wicker couch and patted his lap. “So dance.”

You stood there in confusion for a second, before what he meant became clear. “I’m not doing that here!”

“You didn’t have an issue earlier, move those hips ma.” He looked between you and his lap again.

Could’ve been the way he was biting his lip, or the laid back way he rested against the couch, but that coupled with lack of access to him, had affirmative words running through your mind.

You playfully rolled your eyes, faking like his request was that expensive. “Only because I want to get you home, and I know you’ll never quit whining if I don’t.”

You slipped onto his lap, the action already drawing attention from partygoers just for the potential of what was to come.

He grasped your hips to still you before you started to move, his palm pressing you back to him by your throat. “And don’t half-ass it yeah…or I might do the same when I get you home.”

--------

It wasn’t until Creeper hit his shoulder and informed him of how hard he was smiling that EZ realized his cheeks ached. He couldn’t help it, he loved watching you dance more than anything.

As soon as you heard a melody you liked, you came alive to it, and stole everyone’s attention. You could find the beat on anything.

That wasn’t his sole reason for cheesing so hard though. Tonight had been the first night you brought your closest friends around the club, and he knew it took great trust in him, his brothers, and your relationship to do that. Your family was on the East Coast, so your friends filled that role for you. Coupled with EZ, they were your world and he thanked you everyday for letting him in.

“Gonna stop calling you boy scout if you keep enjoying the show this much.” Creeper took the seat across from him, half blocking his view.

“Oh you didn’t know how EZ gets down?” Angel’s lips formed that mischievous grin, his eyes taking on the same glint. “You should’ve seen him begging me for tales from Angel’s crib.”

“She and her girls look good out there. Might be too much for you junior.”

EZ rolled his eyes at the ribbing from his brothers, his grin still intact. “At some point I’m gonna be patched, I’m happy to make a cage date for that day. Pretty sure I can take both of you.

Creeper and Angel exchanged exaggerated incredulous expressions.

“See what happens when you go easy on the help?” Angel scoffed. “You sound like you’re hurtin’ for work prospect.”

“Could use some more water.” Creeper shook his water bottle at him, just barely missing splashing him.

EZ rose from his seat, empty beer bottle in hand. “Just remember that day is coming.”

Angel and Creeper laughed raucously at that.

“Don’t get your ass beat in front of your woman lil bro!”

EZ shook his head, choosing to ignore his dumbass older brother. and tossed his bottle in the trash. Slipping through the moving bodies until he was near you, he gently patted your friend who nodded and stepped from behind you.

You jumped, surprised at his sudden appearance, but settled back against him.

“Hey baby.” You gently encouraged him to follow the sway of your hips as he placed his head on your shoulder.

“Hey. I’m back on the slave clock, you want anything?”

You turned to him, his arms instinctively encircling your waist. “Hard tea please.”

“I gotta go to the trailer for that, and get the variety hour table over there a drink. I’ll try to be quick.”

“Don’t rush, but remember, you owe me a dance.” You cupped his cheeks and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He grinned goofily, his attention solely yours until he felt your girls draping themselves over him.

“Can you get us some too Zeke? Thanks.” “Preciate it Z.”

You giggled pushing them off him, but you knew he didn’t mind. You guys were a package deal and he’d take whatever you came with. At least their requests came with pleasantries.

“Sure ladies, not a problem. Don’t let anyone take her while I’m gone.”

They laughed, giving affirmative replies while you rolled your eyes pushed him towards the side door.

Once he began his drink fulfillment quest, it was like every brother wanted something from him. It was a full house that night and he should’ve known once he was no longer under Angel’s break protection, he was back to errand boy status.

Every task he completed was met with teasing about how his rushed pace clearly pointed to him wanting to get back to you. He didn’t argue the fact, just moved faster every time you were mentioned.

Finally, he was able to to focus on your request when he stopped being flagged down.

He was heading to the trailer when one of your friends stopped him.

“One of the other charter’s guys is annoying our girl. She doesn’t wanna make a fuss cause’..you know.” She gestured to his vest to signify his prospect status. “But I know she’s not feeling it.”

He could feel the the muscles in his jaw flex in anger, feet carrying him across the crowded yard. People moved before he could plow through them, which was just as well, because he wasn’t fully in control at that point, and didn’t think he could slow down enough to sidestep them.

The clubhouse had filled considerably since his absence. He scanned the room for you, finding you in a crowd of moving bodies. Your friend was right, you had a good poker face, but your man knew you.

He didn’t waste time physically separating you from the Yuma patch member. He gently put you behind his person, feeling your small hands press against his back through his vest.

“I’m good baby. He agreed this was the last dance.” Your voice belied your annoyance despite your words.

“I’m guessing he said that more than once.”

“I don’t mind, I know clu-“

Yuma interrupted you. “See, she doesn’t mind. Go find something to do with yourself prospect.”

“I’ve got a project in mind.” EZ pushed you back a little more to give himself room to work with.

“Be smart bare vest.” Yuma smirked, his eyes saying how much he’d love for EZ to make the mistake he was thinking about.

In the span of the next few seconds, Yuma’s vest and shirt was covered in beer and Coco had appeared at the same time. If the obvious way he was holding the bottle didn’t give away he did it on purpose, his dry “my bad” and shrug did.

Yuma swung on Coco who anticipated it and dodged it, before firing back with a successful punch of his own. A sea of Mayans of mixed charter filled the space and EZ quickly pushed you behind the bar before he lost you in the shuffle.

Understanding what Coco had done, he got in the middle to give the Yuma patch what he’d been asking for while he was covered by the chaos.

It didn’t last long before the presidents stepped in, but it didn’t have to. He was happy to take the few licks he’d received, because he was pretty sure he’d broken Yuma patch’s nose, and would get away with it.

His brother’s words against theirs, and the presidents didn’t feel the need to make it a drawn out issue. He pretended to have played bouncer instead of active participant, and it all ended with a basic chewing out.

His only thoughts were of you once his rage had subsided, and he could think clearly again. Had he scared off you and your friends? Embarrassed you?

He was happy to find that hadn’t. Your friends couldn’t help but fawn over him and how “perfect for you” he was. He especially enjoyed reveling in the jealousy of Coco, Angel, Gilly, and Creeper. Coco slightly less salty when he got praise for his efforts.

He got his admiration from you later when you patched him up in the trailer, soft voice telling him how sexy he looked to you, and how you appreciated him thinking of you in his position. You held his face and gently went over everything you could find, while he said on his makeshift bed content to let you.

He couldn’t stop grinning, the one that always got him mercilessly mocked because it was now associated with him thinking of you.

“Seriously EZ,” you dabbed at the final cut you hadn’t attended to. “Thank you.”

“I want you to feel safe with me, it’s only fair if you can accept all this shit.”

You grinned down at him, hair framing your face, and he had to remind himself to breathe at the sight. “I do, all the time.”

He cupped the side of your face, unwilling to fight the urge to kiss you any longer.

You laughed speaking between kisses. “I’m not done.”

“It’s ok, I’m good.” He chased your lips, unashamed to want you so badly.

“Ok,” you returned his kisses, your fingers dancing down the nape of his neck. “But I’d like to cash in that dance you owe me…you know, before we get too busy.”

He rose to full height, hands finding both of yours. “I can do that.”

AN:

I don’t speak Spanish, so if I made a mistake feel free to hop in my messages and let me know and how to fix it please. You’re more than welcome to.

1.) I remember seeing a meme vid about this years ago, and finding it hilarious. I could see this happening with these dudes and their personalities. That, and I just really wanted a lil southern culture in a Mayans drabble. 🤷🏾‍♀️

2.) I did a rewatch of the whole series (including the original), and I’m back on the obsession train. Just tryna to be happy before S4 kicks my shit in.

3.) I kept telling myself I wouldn’t end up writing for these fools and here I am in my Ringling Bros. best🤡.

#mayans mc #mayans imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #Coco Cruz #Coco Cruz x reader #ez reyes x reader #ez reyes #reader insert

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Stranger In The Crowd

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently ended the process of moving, Y/N is rightfully very tired but also very excited for the new chapter of her life. Funnily enough, this new chapter includes a newly formed long distance friendship/crush with a very special person from San Diego.

Requested by @boiled-onionrings Hi darling! Thank you so much for your wonderful request and I’m really sorry you’ve had to wait so long for it to be posted but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

I let out a heavy sigh, relieved to finally be at home after such a long day of standing around in the Georgia heat with only a thin layer of fabric to protect my eyes and head from the scorching sun. Yeah, anyone who says that tent did well at protecting everyone under it today is nothing but a liar. I was in a short, strapless white summer dress, the fabric of which barely had any weight and consistency to provide heat of its own yet I still damn near melted. Ok, I’ll admit, some of the roasting heat probably came from the energy and force I put into singing the songs of my band’s new album ‘Starting At The End’.

The mini concert we held in this large open field was meant as an introduction to the city of Savannah where all the band members - myself included - are actually from but we all moved to the West Coast to pursue our music career. And now that we’ve grown, and the majority of us are married, one of us is a father now as well, we’ve decided to return to our hometown. The decision was so spontaneous and was executed so quickly due to no one objecting to it that it still hasn’t me that I’m no longer in LA. The heat isn’t helping my ‘processing’ process but I’ll get to it eventually. Do I miss LA though? Not sure I do - I think I more miss the people I was closer to while I was there.

Suddenly, as if perfectly timed, my phone dings, notifying me that I’ve received a message. I don’t have to look to know it’s from - there’s only one person I actively text and his name is....

C ~ Your virtual buddy Corpse here, making sure you didn’t die of a heatstroke today. If you did indeed survive, just reply to this message, if not....don’t do anything, I guess.

I can’t help but giggle at the sight of the message. I promised Corpse I’d text him after the concert to let him know I was ok, but the even dragged out for longer than anticipated so I’m guessing he got worried.

How cute.

Me ~ Alive and well, but I do feel like a popped tire of an overloaded truck. Hope that’s a visually appealing description

Corpse and I met on the charity livestream Jacksepticeye organized and invited our band to so we could play Among Us with some of the best gamers and streamers on the internet. It was a huge honor and a ton of fun, definitely an event I’d like to repeat in the near future because I had such a good time and I know all my bandmates did too. We all got acquainted and even became official friends with the gamers that were practically our hosts, Corpse becoming the closest friends I’d earn. That livestream happened months ago and we still text just as consistently.

C ~ Oh I know EXACTLY what you mean. Anyway, as to not exhaust you further to force you into typing, how about you send me pictures to sum up your thoughts and emotions and plans for the evening

This is OUR THING trademark, mine and Corpse’s and no one can take it away from us. It’s a significant element of our friendship that enables us both to understand one another when one of us feels the way I described in my message - a popped tire or a deflated balloon. I’m usually the exhausted one - blame the many shows we do and the many meet-and-greets we organize for our lovely fans. It’s the type of exhaustion none of the band members mind at all, but we definitely need some time to recover from it.

As I go to sit down on my couch, the flower crown I’ve been wearing slips off the top of my head, falling on the floor, creating a soft noise that attracts the attention of one of my many cats - Sasha. She’s the youngest and most curious kitty in the family, always protected by the other four - Luna, Cassie, Silver and Lynn. Those four are far lazier and a lot more disinterested in comparison to Sasha who immediately runs over to see what’s fallen.

I smile to myself, taking the flower crown and undoing it to lessen it by a few stems to make it smaller, all the while being watched by the curious Sasha whose interest is rewarded in the end when I put the now adorably tiny flower crown on her head.

While she still hasn’t shaken the thing off I manage to snap a pic which I send to Corpse who opens it mere seconds after it was delivered.

C ~ Sasha’s pulling off your aesthetic better than you. Sorry, someone had to let you know

I burst out laughing for two reasons - 1.The message itself, damn it! It’s hilarious; 2. Corpse has learnt the name of each one of my cats and never mixes them up - not even Luna and Lynn who look almost identical. That amount of attention to detail is astonishing and very meaningful to me, it genuinely warms my heart and that may or may not be dramatic but it’s definitely not exaggerated.

Me ~ You think I haven’t caught on yet?

C ~ Well, if it makes you feel any better you pull off my aesthetic better than I do

He’s referring to the e-girl look I did for one show the band had in downtown LA one night. I was drunk and looking forward to trying new things so I improvised the hell out of my outfit but I apparently looked presentable enough to leave a good impression on Corpse despite the pic I sent him being a bit blurry and being a mirror selfie in the bathroom of the very bar we were performing in. It goes without saying that the mirror was dirty too - had a bunch of writing on it which Corpse said only added to the aesthetic. Looking back on it now I kinda agree, and luckily so did the fans in the comments of that same photo when I posted it on Instagram.

Me ~ Means a lot actually. Nowhere near enough to aid the burn of having a cat pull off cottagecore better than I do, but still helps XD

As if sensing that we’re talking about her, Sasha hops on the couch, poking her head over my phone to look down at the screen.

Now this is gonna be golden.

I take a selfie with my phone in my lap, the camera capturing both me and Sasha at a rather unflattering angle which has me losing my mind laughing when I send the picture to Corpse who immediately sends back a string of cry-laughing emojis.

C ~ I can’t tell which one of you is cuter

Me ~ If that was a compliment, I gotta say I appreciate it greatly

C ~ Just telling the truth ;)

It’s times like these that the butterflies in my stomach remind me just why I’ve started catching feelings for this man despite all the distance between us and despite barely knowing him - he knows me more than I know him but I don’t mind it, oddly enough.

I’m fond of our connection and though I sometimes dream of something more, I’m also content with what we already have considering that ‘something more’ seems rather unattainable as of now.

My phone dings again, clearing the fog of thoughts and presenting me with a new message from Corpse.

C ~ Oh, by the way, look what I got....

That message is followed up by a picture of a ticket. A plane ticket to Georgia!

While I’m still busy stomaching this and dealing with my quickly rising excitement, he sends another message.

C ~ I hope to catch a The Silver Rays concert while I’m there. Heard they had an adorable frontwoman ;)

My breath catches in my throat as a wide grin spreads across my face. The thought of having Corpse so close to me sends those aforementioned butterflies in my stomach into a raving mood and they practically explode my insides with excitement and joy like I’ve never felt it before. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that we’re about to go from having an entire country between us, to being just some ways away - him in the audience and me on stage without a single clue of who to look for. That’s part of the excitement though, I guess, part of the guessing game that’s gonna make our meeting all the more interesting.

He’ll be a stranger in the crowd and I’ll be a performer on a stage - seemingly two people who have no relation whatsoever. But damn does it go beyond that: No one has to know how hard I’m falling for that stranger in the crowd.

Me ~ I’ve heard so too, can’t confirm it though

If this is gonna be a guessing game, I’ll flip the tables a bit - I won’t take any guesses. I’ll let the answer come to me. I’ll give the first move over to the stranger in the crowd, let’s see what he does.

C ~ I’ll check and let you know, don’t worry

Not worried whatsoever, Corpsie. I’m not worried at all.

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hufflesight · 3 years

Note

heyooo!! long time no talk! i was wondering if you could write a kaz brekker fic based on the song toothpaste kisses by the macabees? maybe with the reader constantly flirting and kaz finally falls for their constant advancements? thank you <33 no pressure!!

My first request from my first follower and first friend! Yay! Hope you like it <3

Kaz x fem!reader

Description: The reader finally manages to find Kaz's long-hidden heart.

(Heh... I'm really bad at flirting, so sorry if this isn't exactly what you were envisioning. I also think I changed one or two of the lyrics to fit the story better, I hope that's okay!)

(Just finished this and damn, it got really soft at the end lol)

Warnings: ... lots of grammar/spelling errors, but other than that, nothing!

Words: 893

Cradle me, I'll cradle you

Y/n. Her name echoed in his head whenever he got a moment of silence in the Crow Club or the Slat, her face filling his mind. He'd found her a couple of years ago on the streets, threatening a man with a shard of glass. The image may not have looked impressive at first, but after years of sizing people up, Kaz had had seen through her unfortunate circumstances to Y/n's true potential. Her form was perfect, and even as the man, who was at least two times her size, tried to fight back, she outwitted him, slamming him into the wall.

His assessment was right; they got her a knife and she became one of the most invaluable members of the Dregs. Only two missions later, she was a crow.

Ever since then, he couldn't stop watching her.

He'd never tell her, of course. Not only were there the countless risks to her safety if anyone figured out he cared for her, but Kaz hadn't shown real affection to anyone since... since Jordie, really.

That had changed him forever. He'd grown, and he'd learned.

Caring for someone was a weakness.

No matter how hard Y/n tried break his resolve.

I'll win your heart with a woo

Pulling shapes just for your eyes

"Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaz," Y/n yelled from what seemed to be an inch in front of the wooden door, "Can I come in?"

Kaz rested his forehead against his palm, half a display of annoyance, half to hide the small smile that had formed on his face at the absence of a knock. "A rhetorical question, I presume?"

"Indeed." Y/n said, opening the door and, completely passing up the other chair, settled on top of the desk, directly next to Kaz's map of Ketterdam.

A brief pause followed, silence heavily filling the air. "It's just- you're always up here," She picked at the single square inch of wood visible under the stacks of paper. "Even Dirtyhands needs to take a break sometimes. C'mon, go outside. You could... take a walk with me?" her voice was earnest, slicing its way into what felt like Kaz's soul.

"Y/n..."

"Please, Kaz?" The tone of her voice suddenly shifted, and a smirk formed on her lips. Leaning in, she whispered into his ear, "I won't even throw my knife at random pieces of trash." Louder, she added on: "But I still think hitting that apple core was impressive."

Kaz turned away from her, sighing, and forced down a grin. Introducing Y/n to Jesper was probably the biggest mistake of his life, and yet he couldn't complain.

A couple seconds later, after turning back to face her and demonstratively rolling his eyes, he finally replied. "Fine. I need to check in on some establishments anyways."

She grinned. It warmed his insides, even within the cold office.

"Great! Here you go!" She handed him his cane, though he had no idea how she'd grabbed it from the other side of the room.

Still, he took it, walking behind her down the stairs into the main area. Of course Jesper was in there, and in true sharpshooter fashion, he raised his eyebrows at him. Kaz sent a glare that pretty clearly sent the message of "Don't you dare start" back, and Jesper smoothly turned on his heel. Not quick enough to hide his smile, though.

So with toothpaste kisses and lines

I'll be yours and you'll be-

Almost the minute they were outside in the fresh (though unsavory) Barrel air, Y/n had her arm hooked through the one Kaz wasn't using to hold his cane.

"Isn't it nice out?" She asked, looking up at the sky. "You cant get this kind of view from inside that lonely office."

He looked over at her, her face silhouetted in the moonlight. She was more correct than she knew; he'd never be able to get such a beautiful view in the Slat. Not without her.

"Brekker... are you staring at me?" The words were teasing, but her tone was full of meaning.

His thoughts froze. He couldn't- he couldn't be here. He couldn't handle this. He needed to get away.

He slipped his arm out of hers, pulling away as quickly as possible. He needed to go.

But Y/n had other ideas. She grabbed his arm, and, with surprising strength, pulled him back.

"Kaz.. it's okay. You can care about someone. There's nothing to be ashamed of in that."

Lay with me, I'll lay with you

"You don't understand- there are walls, Y/n. Walls I've built up. Ones I can't get rid of."

We'll do the things that lovers do

"Then let me help you. Let me help break down your walls, Kaz."

Put the stars in our eyes

And with heart shaped bruises

And late night kisses divine

He turned around, fully facing her. Their eyes locked, and he slowly place a gloved and trembling hand against her cheek. "Just... be patient with me."

She smiled, genuine and caring. "Of course. But you need to be honest to me. I can't help you if you hide your feelings."

"I'll do my best." His own smile, restrained all evening, finally broke free.

The moonlight cast a light shadow of their figures over the broken cobble of the road.

#kaz brekker #kaz x reader #crows x reader #soc fanfic #fanfic #jesper fahey #kaz brekker x reader #jordie rietveld #writing #request

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yelenasdog · 3 years

Text

moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah

🥍🥍🥍

The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful.

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love.

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system.

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection.

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period.

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up.

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed.

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands.

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.”

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long.

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs.

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder.

“Yeah, Y/n/n.”

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber.

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

🥍🥍🥍

ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

xx hj

#mitch rapp x reader #mitch rapp imagine #american assassin fic #american assassin fanfiction #american assassin imagine #dylan obrien imagine #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien x y/n #dylan o'brian imagine #mitch rapp x y/n #stiles x reader #we will rock queue #yelenasdog

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mashiraostail · 4 years

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Hi! Can I please get some Gang Orca, Aizawa, Vlad King and Present Mic when their S/O knows they've been having a rough week and they surprise their mans with lingerie and an evening of... *ahem* Stress relief? Also some pampering and snuggles!

o my gosh i love this song this is kinda on the longer side i have diverged into the world of p o rn

ns fw under the cut (i think it’s pretty gender neutral lmk tho!)

Kugo Sakamata/Gang Orca: Kugo tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve in private with you, stress was no different. He was clearly stretched out beyond his normal limits, and by the looks of it, he still had a ways further to go. He always got a little short with you when his work became tedious, not in a mean way just in a curt way. One word answers to your questions became favorable and for better or worse he mostly just liked to be left alone. He apologized after things were sorted he knows you’re only worried and trying to check in with him but when things pile up he gets overwhelmed even by your simple questions. You could feel the irritation appearing on Monday night, and it only piled as the week progressed, by the end of it the poor man was about to spill over with his annoyance. You were working quietly across the room from him, much less stressful and more leisurely assignments that didn’t make your heart leap out of your throat, you watch him tap his pen around on his desk, prattling the black plastic as he sat on the phone, after a moment he just hung up and sighed, that was the fourth interaction like that within the hour. You watched him forlornly, you wished there was some way for you to help relieve the tension in his shoulders, something you could say or do that would put him at ease rather than overwhelm him further. As you pondered it you realized that maybe there was something. You stand up suddenly, and the unexpected motion leads Kugo to turn and look at you expectantly. “I’m going to get ready for bed I think.” You sigh, “I’m pretty exhausted so it’s probably best to call it an early night.” It was at least worth a try, even if he’d say no, “you look tired too.” You press a kiss just below his eye, “why don’t you join me?” He shakes his head, “In a little while. I’ll be quiet.” “I wasn’t worried about that.” You squeeze his shoulders, “don’t work too hard, okay Kugo?” He just hums back at you as you leave. You were sort of worried you’d lost it, you’d boughten it a while ago but got too nervous to even put it on by yourself let alone in front of someone else. It wasn’t that you thought he wouldn’t like it, you were pretty sure Kugo could find a way to compliment you if you were wearing a trash bag, it just felt...strange. Embarrassing maybe. You couldn’t pin the word but it made you flutter nervously. When you do manage to dig it up you contemplate it for a second. You decide the nervousness will be worthwhile if it helps relieve Kugo even a little bit. You wonder how to go about it, should you just walk across the hall and bust in his office? That feels sort of curt. You look around for a moment before an idea percolates. “Kugo!” You call out to him, trying to keep an indifferent tone, “can you come here a second? I need a hand!” You hear him sigh, and you’re half expecting him to call back that the step ladder is in the kitchen. But you sit on the edge of your bed in wait, trying to look less nervous and more appealing. “What’s the matter? I’m very-” Blue, dark navy blue and barely there. He really wasn’t expecting this. He could practically see all of you, sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed, thin satiny straps hardly holding the frail garment together, he’s sure just one tug from his finger would send it fluttering to the ground. He feels sort of bad for letting so much annoyance bubble up in him when you called for him. But now something else was bubbling up. It was like you’d packaged yourself up for him.. well he supposed you quite literally did. “Are you busy?” You can feel his gaze latch onto you, his eyes taking you in, up and down rapidly over and over again. “No..not...very..”

It really doesn’t take much coaxing to get him undressed and into bed. After a while of kissing him while his hands roam around the sheer blue lace that just scarcely covered you, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him. You’d been together for a while, and you were never one to hold out on him, he isn’t sure why he’s on cloud nine right now, it’s not like he’d never gotten this sort of thing from you before, your hands, mouth, and a lot more than that were always there. If he wanted you all he had to do was ask. But something about you doing this for him, because he was stressed...the way you did all this just to relieve him? It was too sweet, combined with the sight of you in that perfect outfit on your knees for him and the feeling of your lips and hands playing with his already hard cock was more than enough to wash the tension away. It cleared his head of anything but you. Big hands pull your mouth off his length, the drool and precum around your lower lip, paired with the redness washed over your face and the obscene plumpness in your lips that the stretch of his cock left behind would have been enough to make him beg if you felt any need to withhold from him. Lucky for him you did not. “Kugo-” You let him spread your legs, tread careful fingers between them pressing in one, then another while he holds you up in his lap, leaning you against his chest for leverage. “What a sweet thing you are...” His chest rumbles with it, “did you go to this trouble all to make me feel better?” His fingers knew their way around too well, his other hand splayed on your chest, careful to simply push or slide underneath the lace rather than remove it, palms and fingertips occasionally brushing over your nipple, all you can do is keen and nod. “You did?” His hand on your chest pushes you closer, “that makes me so happy my love.” “Kugo-” You call for him again and he hums as you clutch his wrist, the one between your legs. “I’m right here. Hm... What would I do without you?” He murmurs it close to your ear, it sends a full-body shudder down your frame, “you always take such good care of me, and I was being cold to you wasn’t I?” “No,” you shake your head, your whole face is burning, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment at the exposure, “you weren’t-” “But I was.” He sighs, “and now I’m sorry, how can I make it up to you?” “Kugo- I just want you,” you gasp, fingers tightening around his arm, “please Kugo,” his fingers leave you at that, the loss makes your whole abdomen stutter. “Turn around and face me.” You follow his order with shaking thighs. “Aren’t you lovely?” His tongue slides over your chest as two big hands curl around the small of your back. “Can you do it?” His question falls on deaf ears, you’re already lining him up and starting to take him in, the groan that rumbles out of him only spurs you on until you’ve worked yourself up to hysterics bouncing in his lap, his low grunted praises pushing you closer to the proverbial edge by the second. You’re a nice view, Kugo’s surprised he’s lasted so long with it. He watches the flush extend down your chest, his hand occasionally treks down the small of your back to your hips, then down still to feel the stretch of you around his length, until he's just about there, then he’s guiding all your movements, pushing and lifting you with ease, an almost bruising grip gets you to roll your hips against his. You’re sheathed totally in his lap when you both finish. He enjoys watching your chest heave as you come down from it, then you fall against him. “You really do look lovely.” He wraps his arms around you, keeping you in place. “You think so?” You shuffle up his chest, “well I’m glad. I don’t know why I was nervous..” “Nervous?” His tongue glides along your neck, “about how you looked?” “Maybe, I don’t know. I thought maybe you wouldn’t like it, I...I guess I don’t know what I thought to be honest.” “Whatever you want to give to me I’d be delighted to have.” He nips your earlobe and you sigh, coiling a leg around him as he continues, “even when I get a little short with you, you’re always what I want. I’m a pushover when it comes to you.” He concedes, and then you remember. “Sorry to pull you away from all your work. I just wanted to help...” “No need to be sorry, you did help..” He’s rubbing long, tender strokes up your back, “and anyways it was an emergency.”

Shouta Aizawa: Stress wasn’t foreign to the erasure hero, though stress that came from being behind on work presented a certain dilemma. He dealt with stress by sleeping, but in this case...well sleeping would only make it worse. So he got even less sleep than normal. He was irritable at best and downright rude at worst. He’d apologize later, he always did, but at the moment all he wanted was to be left along to plug away at all the responsibilities he’d neglected until now. You felt bad, you wished there was more you could do to help him out, but as it were all you could really do is be there if he wanted to lean his weight on your arm or complain about his day, normally you’d offer a nap with him but that seemed like the last thing he’d want. You’d already left him to get ready for bed, you’d showered and were rummaging around for some pajamas when you find it, you don’t think you’d even worn it before. You wouldn’t say you and Shouta didn’t have a lot of sex, you had a decent amount, but normally fancy lingerie was left to fantasy, it looked fragile and not at all like something that would hold up against Shouta’s semi-destructive bedroom tendencies, you wonder why you bought it in the first place. Though you realize that it may be useful right about now, especially if he was in a being taken care of mood over a, doing the caring mood. You wonder how long ago you even got it, it still fit fine so it can’t be all that old. You peek out the bedroom door to make sure he’s still sitting, unsuspecting at the table in the kitchen, his back to you. When it all checked out you made your way over, sliding your arms around his neck. “Shou.” You rest your cheek against his temple, “it’s so late.” “I know.” Is his deadpan reply. “Do you need the time?” He points to the bottom right of his screen, a small digital clock displaying the hour. You huff at that, you knew he knows that’s not what you mean. “Come to bed with me.” You rub his chest over the ribbed fabric of his shirt, “please?” “In a minute.” “Shouta..please..” You whine at him and duck down to kiss his jaw, he reaches behind himself to hold onto you, he finds your shoulder, by the crook of your neck, expecting to feel the fabric of a t shirt or a tank top strap, but there’s nothing, just skin, he slides his hand over your shoulder, in search of something. His other arm reaches around too, lower, to your legs, thighs, and hips. “Are you naked?” He asks incredulously. “Maybe,” His hand finds one strap around your thigh as you continue, “or better.” He pulls away and stands, facing you, you’re still bent over resting on the back of his chair. “You-” His eyes latch onto the purple, royal purple, dark, and figure-hugging, leaving nothing to his imagination, purple that he wanted to pull away with his teeth, leaving marks on your skin behind in its place. “Where’d you get that-” “Why’s it matter?” You laugh, pulling him closer by his shoulder, “want a matching set?” “Shut up.” He wraps his arms around you despite his words. “Ready to call it a night now?” Your own arms come around his neck and he sighs. “You’re such a brat.” “You were the one being mean, if you work like this too much I’ll worry you don’t love me anymore, you know?” The trek from the kitchen to your bedroom is mostly lost in your memory. You aren’t entirely sure why you considered the possibility that Shouta would want to lay back and let you take care of him, as soon as he touched you back in the kitchen you realized all he’d really want to do was blow off steam. But you were fine with that too.

That in mind...he can be utterly cruel when it suits him.

“Are you still worried I don’t love you anymore?” His voice is low and gruff beside your ear, his lips and stubble scraping down your jaw to your neck. If you’d had plans to get on your knees for him he nixed them before you could even get started in favor of getting you where he had you now, back to his chest three fingers inside you at a grueling pace, pushing and curling and rubbing until your eyes were watering and you were arching against him, trying to get enough leverage to close yourself off. “Keep your legs open.” His other hand is at your collar bone, keeping you pressed against him, “come on, or I’ll tie you up how I want you.” You grip his arm at that you can feel him grin into your skin. “You’re gonna rip it-” You turn into him, chest stuttering, he hadn’t gone to the trouble of removing the lingerie, just pushing and twisting it out of the way of his hands. “I’ll buy you a new set if I do.” He’s teeth close around your neck, “don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about anything.” You dig your nails into his arm unsure of what number orgasm this was, honestly after 2 you felt like they just melded together anyways, it’s not like he let up nearly long enough to let you recover. “Are your eyes watering?” He mutters it into your jaw, “aren’t you cute? Is it too much?” You’re just shaking your head, keening and arching into his touch, chest heaving with helpless breaths. “No?” His voice is thick with faux sympathy, “are you gonna cry? It hurts a little to be so close, doesn’t it? Can’t take it? You’re right there aren’t you? Why can’t you cum?” He doesn’t mind the scratching, and it’s a good thing, cause if he did..he’d be an unhappy man after this all let up. “You didn’t say-” You barely get the breath in your lungs to push the words out. He’s grinning though, it’s the answer he wanted, exactly how he wanted it, breathless and needy. “You want me to say you can?” His other hand rubs your stomach comfortingly, a stark and unfair contrast to the pace of his second hand. “Is that what you want? Will you cry if I don’t?” “I’ll cry if you do too-” “I’m willing to test that, come on. Cum now.” It happens like clockwork, with Shouta it always was. Stuttering thighs, your stomach taking in shaky uneven breaths. Once your peak is there and gone both hands are softer, slower, rubbing long strokes against your sex then your stomach and chest. “That was good.” He’s murmuring it into the soft skin behind your ear, “that was so good. You’re so sweet.” His hand’s rubbing small circles over your belly, his thumb brushing over your navel. “Is that all you can do tonight?” “No,” You shake your head vehemently, “no I want you too-” He hums affectionately into your skin at that. “You are sweet tonight.” He squeezes you a little, it’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but you feel it. “Okay then, if this is what you want then I won’t feel bad. Lay on your chest.”

Sekijiro Kan/Vlad King: Despite how he looked Kan really wasn’t very brutish at all. But when he got like this sometimes his own strength evaded him. It made his emotions obvious, when he got too stressed even a fountain pen was liable to snap in his fist. He’d worked through all the wooden pencils in your apartment, they’d been halved and discarded in rapid succession, he was currently working through all the mechanical pencils. You hoped this all got sorted before the fountain pens, that was a mess you’d rather avoid. He was usually good at dealing with stress, long runs, combat trainings, things in that vein were usually enough to relive him of a bad couple of days. But if the discontent extended past that normally he liked talking with you, when he was stressed, upset or exhausted he liked having you hauled up in his lap, squeezing him, combing your fingers through his hair and babying him into perking up a bit. But when it got past even that stage was when you had to worry about fountain pens. He’d brush you off, just a grunt or nod as a reply as he slunk back into his seat. You tired your signature knuckle kisses to get him to warm up to you, but all you’d gotten out of him was a huff of breath. He didn’t pull his hand away from you though, until his phone started to ring, and by the time he finished his conversation and hung up he didn’t look keen on offering it to you again. “Sek.” You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and he nods. “You should come to bed. It’s late and you don’t feel good.” “I feel fine.” He shakes your hold on his arm, “you go ahead. It is late, there’s no need for you to be up now.” Normally he’d kiss your head with a phrase like that, but all he did was break the pencil in his right hand. You sigh, “alright. Well wake me up if anything okay? If I can help at all I want to.” “I know. Thanks.” You kiss his temple as you stand up, “Don’t be too late.” He just nods at that and you close the door behind you as you leave. It’s there in your closet front and center when you open it up. You were planning on using it for his birthday...but now..well maybe it’d be enough to rescue him yet? You only got it a few days ago, you hadn’t even tried it on yet. You look between it and your reflection before settling on an idea. You stand before the closed door, separating you and Sekijiro, you’re just a little nervous, if he brushed you off dressed like this you’d be sort of crushed, but he got such tunnel vision sometimes it was a possibility in your head. But you were almost 100% there now, so there wasn’t any use in turning back. “Sekijirio.” You open the door and try to seem less anxious. “Mhm?” He doesn’t turn to look at you. You approach him without responding. “Sekijiro.” You say it harder this time and he nods more obviously, still spinning a barely together pencil in his fingers. “Yeah,what’s wrong?” You’re standing beside him and he still doesn’t look at you. “I though you were going to bed?” He says still without looking at you. “I was.” You agree. “So why didn’t you?” “I got lonely.” You put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to get his gaze on you, though you’re ineffective. “I’m really busy.” “Sekijiro.” You spin his chair. “Baby what gives, I-” He stops, maybe chokes on something. “You’re being such a brute.” You take his hands and slide them up your stomach as you drop into his lap. He hears you but all he can think about is red, lacy and showy fabric highlighting the best places, like a guide for all the places his wants to put his hands, the band around your thigh squeezing, making you look even fuller and more supple in his lap. “What happened to my big sweet man Seki?” His mouth feels dry, your holding the sides of his neck, drawing him into a kiss, and clearly encouraging him to just put his hands all over you. It was like he was having some embarrassing high school fantasy, like someone dug around his brain and picked out his most perfect fantasy and laid it out like a trap for him. “I say that..but it’s so sexy when you get all worked up..” His stomach swarms at that as your eyes cast to the abandoned pile of broken writing utensils. You’re practically whining into his lips, “ and I know I shouldn’t distract you, you said you were busy, I’m sorry I’m so needy-” “I’m not busy at all.” He barely lets you finish, “this is nothing. Don’t be sorry. I can do it tomorrow.” He was sure his class would understand if he..waited an extra day or two to return the exams.. “Just keep working.” Your hands are sliding into his shirt, “I’ll take care of you.”

He could not keep working. It was unfair of you to hold him to that standard, when you were so good at this, when you looked so good on your knees between his legs, taking him to the back of your throat, when your hands felt like that braced on his thighs. No sane person could keep working. Not when your hair was begging to have his hands in it, or when you clearly needed to be guided up and down his length by the nape of your neck. He only had two hands. And when your’s started wandering, up his abdomen, around to his waist, begging him to toss his shirt somewhere else..the work can wait, for your sake. He doesn’t mean to pull so hard, but the moan that flutters past your lips when he does indicates it may not be the worst mistake he’s ever made. He pulls you off his length and you let him go with a pop, a thin strand of something obscene connected your lips to the head of his cock, the sight of it alone was enough to make him buck his hips up into nothing. “Let’s just go to bed.” He’s guiding you to stand, “I’m done here. Let’s just go bed.” He can’t tell if the ditzy stumble and blown out pupils are just part of the act or if blowing him really does shut your brain off a little. “if you want-” Your voice jumps as he swipes you up via the back of your thighs, once your settle though you take the short walk to your bedroom as an opportunity to get your lips on him again, his shoulders, his chest, just around the neckline of his hero costume, if it even tore a little one stood the chance of sticking out. He loses his pants on the way. He just tosses you on the bed once you’re close enough, before you can protest or complain he’s kissing you quiet, then trailing his mouth down your neck and shoulders, to your chest and stomach and legs, kissing and biting and fingering, enjoying the feeling of your fingers twirling and tugging his hair, and the way you’re spreading your legs to allow him closer. He enjoys it until he’s hooking your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up, your hands brace his hips as he presses forward. If anyone asked him this was the best of both worlds, he got the physical work out plus he got you cooing in his ear? He wasn’t really sure what he was stressed about in the first place. “Fuck-” You’re gasping it out, pressing his face into your neck, “you’re amazing-” Even subtle praise makes his stomach jump, and you’re just babbling it out thoughtlessly at this point, he doesn’t blame himself for not lasting much longer after you start. His weight drops onto your chest after you finish and you heave, “jeeze Sek-” “Sorry.” He presses his face into your shoulder, “sorry.” But he doesn’t move. The way you wrap your arms around his back say you don’t want him to. “That was really good.” He’s still huffing into your skin and you hum, dragging a hand up his back. “I’ll help you grade that stuff tomorrow.” You twirl the hairs at the base of his neck around your fingertips. He groans thankfully. “I’m sorry I was being mean.” He rolls over and traps you against his chest, “you’re the best.”

Hizashi Yamada/ Present Mic Hyperactive was an understatement, manic was an intense downplay of the current state of your boyfriend. And he was doing everything but the things that needed to get done. “Hizashi-” “I can't now I need to do-” (insert thing that doesn’t need to be done at all). He had plenty of reports to fill out, from what you heard it was a busy week for patrols in the area, plus his usual grading and any work for the show. But instead of doing that he was reorganizing a record shelf. “Hizashi I-” “You don’t understand how badly I need to organize these alphabetically by title.” He doesn’t let you get a word in. “Clearly I don’t at all. Can I help at all?” You sit on the ground behind him. “No I don’t think so.” “Alright.” You concede, “I’m gonna call it a night.” You sigh, “call if you need me.” “Aye aye.” He’s scrutinizing two records as you leave him. You just needed to get him to focus on something, then he’d be fine. But what could you get him to focus on...something starts to bubble up, it might just work too..if you could get his feet on the ground in anyway at all you were sure it’d stick. It doesn’t take you long to find the box, you’d bought it for a special occasion, though with Hizashi you normally didn’t get much in the ways of planning and preparation, when valentines, your birthday, his birthday, an anniversary etc.. rolled around he was jumping your bones the moment you rolled over in the morning. You don’t think he’s ever even seen this one on you. You don’t take long to get changed, you’re inspecting yourself in the mirror when your bedroom door opens. “Babe I know you said you were going to bed but I hope you aren’t asleep because while I was cleaning out that box that I use to prop up some vinyl sleeves I found these hilarious pictures from high school of you and Nem-” He drops the pictures. “Oh.” You turn to him, “well I wanted to give you a surprise.” “You did-” He chokes it out, red flush creeping down his neck, “why are you wearing that-” “Because.” You go over to him and take his wrists, pulling him further into your bedroom, he just stumbles along with your pull. “You need to calm down Zashi baby.” “This does not make me feel calm-” It’s strangled, if he got any redder you were sure you’d see steam coming out of his ears. “You need to get all your energy out.” You press him down until he’s sitting on the edge of your bed. You roll your hips against him, and drag your lips down his jaw, one hand braced on his shoulder and the other against his chest, but you can still feel his attention waining. “Zashi.” You drop all your weight into his lap and it pulls his eyes from your dresser back to you. “Focus on me.” You guide his hands up your waist and all the fluster that had been lost as his thoughts wandered away from you returned. You realize the better thing to do is stand up and let him have things his way. “You can look or touch however you want.” You pull his hands down your hips. “So just blow off all that extra steam okay? Whatever you want, just tell me.” He looks mildly like he’s about to pass out. His hands go where you expect, your hips, around to cup your ass and his lips flutter around your stomach and waist. You elect to just sigh good naturedly and curl your fingers in his hair to keep him with you. “Can you turn around?” “Hizashi.” You frown, “don’t be distasteful.” “You said whatever I wanted-” You suppose you cant argue that so you turn around and try not to let out an embarrassing squeak or squeal when 100% of his attention is directed at your ass, one arm circling around you to hold you in place. Various articles of clothing are lost or rearranged to accommodate the touching and kissing. He manages to pull you into bed with him, still keeping your legs on either side of his head as he lays down. His arms wrap around your thighs fingers and palms running slow strokes over your sex as his teeth scrape the surrounding skin, tongue fluttering against your hole occasionally. You press against his chest for leverage and he encourages you to rock your hips against him. You eventually go for his cock, as he starts to work you up too much, getting you too close. You thumb at the head before leaning down and taking him past your lips. He seems contented with that for a while until he’s laying you out on your chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pushing into you. He doesn’t stay pressed to you for too long before he’s pulling back to watch your whole body react to him. It held his attention exceedingly well. “Zashi fuck-” To say that the way you reached back and fumbled for his hand where it held the bend of your hips heightened the experience would be an understatement. “Fuck you’re really sexy-” He presses his fingers into your skin harder, “god you’re so fucking hot,” he groans watching your back shift to accommodate the way your hand searches for some purchase. Instead though he’s pushing it away and using his grip on you to turn you to your back, he pulls your legs around his waist and you follow his pull with no protest. “Fucking god,” He grunts, bottoming out as if he hadn’t pulled out in the first place, “shit, look at you.” “Zashi-” Your chest flutters with it, he can feel it under his hands. “Say my name like that again.” He mutters it, maybe more to himself, he’s unhooking one of your legs from his waist and aligning it over his shoulder. He seriously had way too much energy, you could barely keep up you felt so dizzy. “Zashi!” You keen at the deeper angle and he groans. “God you sound almost as good as you look.” He presses his forehead into your shoulder, “I’m gonna fucking cum babe-” The way you were gripping him like you’d float away if you didn’t was already more than enough for him, but the way you’re nodding, eyes squeezed shut as you gasp it out at him, “me too!” If that didn’t do the trick then nothing would. He’s against your chest, heaving. “Feel better?” You ask pulling a long strand of hair between your fingers. He hums and presses his face into your neck. “Yeah I do..” “It’s still pretty early.” You curl your arms around his back and drag your fingers over the shifting muscles below. He nods at that and takes a deep breath of you. “So..” You prompt him. “I could help you work out what you need to get done tomorrow?” “We could go again?” You speak in unison. “Again!?” You flush, “Zash you have way too much energy!”

Bonus Aizawa ending hehe: “Are you sure you’re okay?” He’s looking at you where you lay below him the next morning, he’d reached over you to click off his alarm when he caught sight of you, he’d really done a number on you. Red in all the places he’d grabbed or smacked, shapeless hickeys outlining where the lingerie had been the night before, the map on your skin the only thing left of the garment as far as you were concerned. “I’m fine.” You wave, “I’ve gotta get up soon though, I’ll be late.” You pin some of his stray hairs back, “what really matters is how are you feeling? Did I help at all? I was worried I’d only make it worse-” “I feel much better.” He leans down to bridge the gap between your lips, “I shouldn’t get so stand offish. I’m sorry. I hope you don’t really think I don’t love you.” “Of course I don’t.” You laugh, sitting up, “I’m glad you feel better now. It’s okay to need space Shouta.” You squeeze his face in your hands, “I love you and I know that you love me. I’m always here for you, even when you need space okay?” He hears your words and appreciates them, but his attention is taken by the state of your thighs, which was 1000x worse than that of your chest and stomach. “Are you sure I didn’t do too much? You can be honest with me. I know I was in a really bad mood.” He asks pushing the blanket to reveal more reddend skin. “Positive. Now you should get a few more z’s Shou.” You stretch out, “I’ve got a meeting.” As soon as your feet hit the floor your legs protest the weight of your body with everything they have. “Are you sure you’re sure?” Shouta can see your hickey covered thighs trembling as you walk around the bed to your closet, the way you hold the door knob like a life line makes it obvious. The backs of your thighs are still stained red and tensed taught to carry your weight. “Yeah I just...need to stretch is all..” “Uh-huh. Stretch.” Shouta’s just laughing at you.

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