#like I think it would intensify his desire to step back into her life actually

[thesummerstorms]

Jason Todd being sold out and lured to his death by his mother, still dying trying to protect her

&

Annabeth Wayne Chase being conscripted by her mother into a quest that her siblings have never once survived in a thousand years, succeeding only to fall into hell anyway as a result.

[damnedmisery]

【•⊱𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐘, 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐅•⊱】

I was held captive, a willing prisoner of the gloom, addicted to its weight, to the darkness like a drug. It wrapped around me like a cold and familiar lullaby. When pain is all we know and there's no other way to cope, where do we go?

The haunting memories of my last moments with my mother kept replaying in my mind, with the sound of her screams still ringing in my ears. I longed to understand what transpired, only to be persuaded by my father that he was spearheading a private investigation and would eventually find out what happened. I shouldn't have trusted him or underestimated his wickedness, he's made his own steps in erasing every memory of her. Every year he’s removed a picture of her, even replacing the old family portrait with our “new family.”

My mother was the sole person in my life who never hurt me, yet now she's gone, and I'm forced to face my father's cruelty alone, happiness will elude me as long as he remains in control. I have nothing, and I'm foolish to think there's a way out. I fight so hard, but what's the point in fighting at all? When you feel alone like you have no one. I've learned that in this life, the more you give, the more people will take without giving anything in return.

This pain is like a siren in my bones that I can no longer bear.

My gaze falls on the steering wheel, and the haze of intoxication settles in. I wish to erase my woes, but sadly, no respite exists for this suffering. I pick up the vodka bottle, dismayed by its low content. I redirect my focus to the now-green traffic light ahead.

I fight so hard, but what's the point in fighting at all?

I steadily intensify the pressure on the gas pedal. The swift flow of wind through my hair brings an intense feeling of release. In this fleeting moment, thoughts poison my mind about letting it all end here. Nothing numbs the pain, but this rush I'm feeling temporarily soothes it.

My phone rings, I feel around the passenger seat until I find it and then I swiftly answer it. My biggest regret once I hear Malik on the other end. I could also hear the sound of his horn beeping from behind me. “What the fuck are you thinking, Melina? I’m right behind you! Stop right now!”

I couldn't stand hearing the distress in his voice, as if he actually cared about me. Last we talked about my mother he compared my grief to crying over spilled milk. The person I least desired to hear from right now was him, and to make matters worse, he's now tailing me. “Go back to the party, Malik! Be their golden boy!”

I snapped at him, hopefully that's enough of a hint, but knowing Malik, I doubt he'll give up easily. “You’re just drunk, Melina! Fucking stop right now before you get yourself hurt!” Is the risk of additional harm substantial when I'm already in pain?

The more he makes demands, the more I want to defy him and do as I please. “I know what I’m doing! What the hell makes you think you can tell me what to do?” I am tempted to bring the car to a stop and express my annoyance with his arrogance.

As a matter of fact— I will.

I press my foot down on the brake, yet the car fails to stop. That’s not odd right? I attempt to remain calm, pressing down repeatedly, but still the car doesn't stop. “Malik! It’s not stopping! I’m trying but it’s not stopping!” My heart feels as though it’s plummeting into my stomach. The fear takes hold, I’m starting to feel a little helpless and Malik is my only option but all I can do is call out to him but what can he do to help with this car moving 100 miles per hour? “What do you mean it won’t stop, Melina?” His voice cracked with panic as he spoke, betraying his composure. “The break! It’s not working! I can’t get the car to stop!” With tears flowing down my cheeks, I continued to try and stop the car, but it failed to respond. The excessive speed hindered my ability to see where I was headed.

“Don’t give up! Keep trying it! Melina, I can’t lose you!“

The car slammed into something just after I heard those words, sending it spinning out of control. My body jerks left, right , back and forth. Reminds me of a bad carnival ride that’s malfunctioning.

If this is my final chapter— I guess I can’t say I’m surprised to meet such a tragic end. I never thought about dying before, but I can’t say that I’m afraid. I find solace in the thought that my mother will be there to greet me, enveloping me in her warmth and soothing my pain with a single, radiant smile. A realm where all the pain and suffering ceases doesn’t sound so bad. There’s a sudden dizziness coming over me before my forehead struck the steering wheel, rendering me unconscious.

I felt my heart sink in this ocean..so deep

I thought..how I'd love to take just a leap

To flee far away, in the place where pain ceases.

My eyes slowly flicker open, waking to a harsh overhead light and an irritating beep resonating in my ears. As I shift, I become aware of my attachment to IV’s. The spreading soreness throughout my body was unmistakable, probably best I move cautiously or not at all. A hand wraps over mine, and I realize Malik is directly at my bedside. Coming from him, this was unexpected. I initially wanted to pull away, yet a part of me didn't. Deep down I knew I needed him.

I glance away from him, seeking my father, but the only ones outside the room are two men in black, clearly security, but what's their purpose? I could have died, and my father wasn't even here. If he had just pretended to care about me, now would have been the time, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

What happened still remains fuzzy for now, and I'm conflicted about whether to feel grateful for being alive or disappointed that I survived. I turned my attention back to Malik and the worry washing over his expression caught me off guard. I was anticipating one of his usual snarky remarks, but his eyes told a different story.

“I..—“ Before I could utter a word, one of the guards entered, directing their gaze towards Malik. “Oh, I can tell you later. Didn’t know she was awake.” Malik shook his head, moving away from my bedside “Tell me now.” He made his demand, and the guard looked from him to me and then back to him.

“As requested, the car was investigated and it was confirmed that the brakes had been cut.”

An awful feeling washes over me, and my heart sinks upon hearing the news. This confirms that what happened to me was intentional, and I fell right into the trap. Why was I so stupid? How could I have failed to see this coming? I have no one to blame but myself.

Who would want me dead is a mystery, but I won't rest until I figure it out.

[missingartist]

I’m really drunk and i just want Marc/stevie to look after me 😭😭😭 like i’m lying in bed and just imagining them taking care of me and making sure i’m okay and home safe! I love them so much! I hope you’re having a great day/evening!

Hope this is okay! I sort of went a bit rogue with this one. I am also now open to requests- the smuttier the better.

You felt fabulous. Beyond fabulous, actually, the music was good, great; it vibrated against your skin as you moved. Everyone around you moved in a chaotic wave of limbs, your heels stuck to the floor as you moved, but you didn't care; the alcohol in your system only intensified the music and the feeling of pure joy.

You didn't even care that the men would occasionally wander over and try to drag you closer. You could feel Marc eyes on you swing your hips. Date nights were difficult at the best of times. Activities that you all could as all enjoy were hard to come by. So mostly, you kept date night separate for each alter. But tonight, you wanted to go out, get drunk and dance with all your men. Steven was the best to dance with; even though his dancing left much to be desired, he just wanted to make you happy, and he didn't care about how stupid he looked as long as he was with you. Jake was a bit of an exhibitionist, with sinful dance moves that staked his claim, he didn’t seem to care about anything else as long as everyone knew you were his. While Marc was moody and quiet, taking his place at the bar, watching you with a small glare as he watched you.

'Hey, babe….wanna get out of here….' A painfully sober voice call from behind you.

'No, she fucking doesn't. Fuck off before a rearrange your face.' Marc snapped from out of nowhere as he dragged you away from the dance floor.

'Come on; we are going home.' His voice oozed dominance and authority.

'Marcccc, let's stay a little more. Come dance with meeeeee.' You pouted, wiggling against his grip.

'Your drunk, sweetheart.' Marc gritted out as he pulled you into the chilly air of Prague.

This was supposed to be a break from life, the world, and the annoying pigeon.

‘I am well aware Marcus Spectorrrrrr. That's the whole point….. I ammmm not leaving till you dance with me…' your voice sounds whiny and needy, but dammit, you wanted this.

'Not happening, sweetheart.' Marc growled as he threw you over his shoulder.

You had learnt very quickly that fighting against Marc was useless. Steven would fold immediately, and Jake, you just had to give him that look, and he was putty in your hands. Marc was annoyingly unmovable and stubborn. The club was only two streets away, Marc not wanting to wander too far if they needed to make a quick exit.

'Come on, sweetheart, let's get you into bed.' Marc's gruff voice carried across the room, and he messily stopped you at the foot of the bed before marching off to get something from the bathroom

'I want to go back; it's not even midnight……Marc!.' You stood on wobbly legs; you were drunk. Pleasantly drunk but not sober enough to balance on the delicate points of your heels.

'That's enough fun for tonight. I'll take you out for breakfast if you're not too hungover tomorrow to make up for it.' Marc chuckled, drying, holding out a large glass of water.

'I don't want stupid breakfast. I'm not a child.' You pushed his hand away, ignoring his pawing hands as they tried to hold you back from the door without making you tumble over the ridiculous heels.

'God…Steven, you deal with this. Do not let her go back to the club.' Marc grumbled, stepping away.

You smiled as you recognised the subtle shift in his features. The tense lines were replaced with the smooth dimpled smile of Steven

'Stevieeeeee with a V', you sang as you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around the adoring man

'Hey honeybun, let's get you a drink of water.' Steven stumbled you back against the bed, reaching

'Please, can we go back? I want to dance?' You fluttered your eyelashes.

'I am sorry, love, but your wavy, yeah…and I think someone got a case of the green-eyed monster. You know how he gets… drink up,' Steven soothed, pushing the tumblr to your lips.

Slowly, you slowly drank from the tumbler letting the water edgy you out of your drunken mess before pulling away. 'But if he just danced with me, none of those stupid boys would have come up to me. They didn't know when you and Jake were dancing with me….' You pouted before the remainder of the water was pushed to your lips.

'I know, honeybun, I know.' Steven pulled you across the bed and delicately began pulling off your heels.

'Doesn’t he think I would be interested in boys like I prefer older men? With thick curly hair and the most beautiful eyes and lips and in the bed…’ you moaned, jolted forward and dragged a still fully dressed Steven on top of you.

‘Honeybun…I know… he knows… he's just jealous, you know how he is, Yeah?’Steven laughed, and he beat off your feeble pawing.

‘We could make him more jealous?’you winked.

‘You know how much I want to, but not when your drunk, yeah? Now be a good honeybun, and let’s cuddle up in bed, and I promise we will spend all day worshipping you like a queen, yeah?’

‘Yeah, but Marc is not invited.’

‘Okay, Honeybuns, ’ Steven purred, pulling you into a fierce cuddle.

Xxxxxxx

‘The lady wanted to dance; you should have danced.’ Jake growled

‘Don’t dance.' Marc growled back.

‘So? I don’t dance or do crowds. She wanted to dance, and she put up with a lot of shit.’

‘And that’s coming from Jake.’ Steven giggled into your hair.

‘Shut up, Steven’

‘No, you shut up, Marc, and figure something out to make it up to her.’

[palaceofpassion]

Neo’s Arc 2

Part 2 to the Neo’s Arc Commission!

Jaune couldn’t believe it, he’d actually done it!  Had ACTUALLY made his way into Beacon, THE BEACON!  He wasn’t sure what God had blessed him with such luck, or what the headmaster had been thinking when he let him in.  Jaune himself, despite constant training with his sister, had felt rather inadequate compared to the other students.  But hey he was here, he wasn’t going to complain either.  Not when he had Neo by his side, and oh boy was he happy to have Neo by his side!  His sister, slash, lover had gotten to him… perhaps a little too quickly when they had landed, leading to the two of them becoming teammates.  And well, he couldn’t ask for a better team if he was being honest!  

“Good night everyone!”  He smiled brightly as his team, which consisted of his glorious splendid sister Neo, the lovely and kind Pyrrha Nikos, and the originally snooty but actually a very sweet girl Weiss Schnee!  He may have started on the wrong foot with the two of them, but after talking things through, a few troubles with the team next door, and well some arguments here and there.  They’d truly become a close team, and… and well it felt nice being near three GORGEOUS Women.  Even as loyal as he was to his sister… he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander sometimes, especially with how striking Pyrrha and Weiss were… especially with how often they liked to show those damned fine legs of theirs… sue him he was a leg man!

“Good Night Jaune.”

“Night Arc.”  

Shuffle~

Ah and here was the other thing, the reason he probably HAD not snapped with all the feminine wiles surrounding him.  It was because of his dear~  Lovely~  Precious~  Cock Hungry sister.  

Neo had been absolutely grateful that she’d ended up on the same team as her precious, hunky, loving brother.  She wouldn’t know what she would have done if he’d ended up on a team of all girls, especially if she wasn’t nearby to keep an eye on him.  Not that she didn’t like Weiss or Pyrrha… but she wasn’t blind.  She could see the way those harpies eyed him, like he was some kind of prize to be won, or prey to be snatched!  She would have NONE of that, he belonged to her and her alone.  

Well, even if they did like him, it wasn’t like they’d done anything to show it.  And if they weren’t going to make their move, then as far as she was concerned he was all hers, would forever be hers.  As quietly as a mouse, she swiftly snuck towards him, her clothes gently dripping to the floor below.  The cool night air doing nothing to abate the intense heat originating from her womb.  She’d grown so needy, so wanting of her brother’s hot throbbing cock.  Of being close to him, touching him, experiencing the warmth of her beloved.  She couldn’t imagine a world where that wasn’t a thing, where she couldn’t touch him like she wanted.  

No… she didn’t want to imagine a world where she was alone.  Putting those thoughts away for now, she gently slinked within his sheets, the shuffling of the bed quietly humming through the room as she pushed herself against her already buck naked brother.  “Hey~”  A little tingle ran down her neck as he gently whispered into her ears.  She LOVED how he’d expected her to show up, his fingers already dancing upon her posterior, clinging onto her and bringing their bodies closer together.  

The burning heat intensified within while his blazing hot dick slid between her thighs, sandwiching itself between the plump sticks of meat.  Her lips quivered against his, their tongues slipping beneath their hidden sheathes as they tangoed into one another.  This was why she LOVED being here, she needn’t hide from her siblings, from their mother.  They didn’t need to know about her twisted relationship with her brother, blood or not.  No… this worked out the best as far as she was concerned.  

She didn’t even care if her roommates knew.  She imagined they’d had an inkling, despite the steps she and Jaune had taken to be as secretive as they could.  But, even now she could imagine them, staring from their own beds.  Their bodies gently rising in a faux nocturnal state.  The exhibistionistic glee in her took over, the thought of being watched, of being seen as the tip of his burning hot cock pressed against her wanting entrance.  The thought that both girls, who eagerly yearned for her brother’s affection, could do nothing but spectate as she and he made passionate love.  It… well it did things to her. 

It did lovely things to her, especially when he slowly slid one of his fingers up her spine and gently against her neck.  Her hairs stood on end as he touched her softly, gently grasping the back of her head and tugging her forward, pressing them together for an even tighter hold.  Gods above she loved her brother, loved him more than perhaps her own life.  She wanted nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, her fingers grasping against his back, sliding between his strong shoulder muscles.  She wanted more, wanted to inhale his scent further, wanted to feel his warm touch against her body.

The more they were apart the more she ached, the closer they were, the more she wanted it.  She knew she was greedy, knew she was unreasonable but she couldn’t get enough of the way that he smelled, of the way that his lips tasted against hers.  She clung to him, like a newborn, wanting to never let him go.  Wanting to forever be loved and held by her dearest person.  

She felt a sense of joy knowing she no longer had to fear, fear that they may get caught by their family and torn apart.  She didn’t care about these other girls, only cared about Jaune.  If she could make sounds she would squee, would let out a yelp of pleasure as his tongue brushed against hers.  Their lips parting ways for just a moment as trails of spit dripped upon their shared pillow.  

She needed not say a word, only simply stare him in the eyes, her heart pounding thoroughly in her chest as he nodded.  She loved him so dearly, loved that he knew exactly what she wanted without her having to say a word.  She knew no one else would ever get her the way that he did and she never wanted anyone else to.  “Ah!”  She may not have been able to speak, but her lips could still part, a muffled sound nearly escaping as she felt his thing brush against her lips.  

The splintering hot sensation of the tip rustling against her quiverly sex was enough to nearly to send her into a tight orgasm.  But she needed him, needed for him to shove it deep inside of her.  She had an itch that only he could scratch, one that only he could fill and oh brothers did she want it badly.  

“Oh brothers.”  She tried to arch her back, tried to pull her head away from her brothers as his girthy cock slid inside of her, her lips parting to make way for the added space, but he kept her locked in place.  She loved the fullness she experienced whenever he pushed into her, whenever the two of them became one.  The rigid dick, veiny fat cock, scratched against her insides, rubbing into her ridges and sending pleasant scritching sensations through her.  She knew she wasn’t satisfied yet, that she needed and wanted more.  But this was a good start.  

Her nails began to sink into his flesh, their auras turned off, the intimacy of their bodies being directly connected being what she wanted.  Her toes began to clench as her muscles in her legs tightened.  Slowly he pushed against her, the swell in her belly growing larger and larger as he gently rubbed himself upwards.  She needed this, needed to be filled to the brim with him.  She wanted his seed inside of her womb so badly that she almost pushed herself down upon him.  Even if she couldn’t get pregnant right now, she’d taken the shot to keep her infertile till she was done with class, she wanted to at least feel like she could!  

Jaune couldn’t keep his hands off his sister's sinuous figure, his hands roamed, letting his animalistic lust take hold of him, his hunger burning as he frantically squeezed and groped at whatever he could.  Their bodies were already entering into carnal passion as their tongues wrestled with one another.  The sweet and sultry scent wafting off of her moistening form intoxicated him, the way she held onto him intoxicated him, her tightening cavern enticed him.  

He’d long gotten over any doubts about what he wanted from this twisted relationship of theirs.  No longer did he care that they were siblings, even if not by blood.  No longer did he stop himself when he desired her, he no longer bothered to hide his dark cravings and the lust he felt for her.  He simply took her, simply allowed himself to bask in her form.  The softness of her skin felt wonderful to his touch, her voluptuous form pressed against his chest was exquisite.  He could hardly get enough, he didn’t want to get enough.  He wanted more, he wanted to touch her whenever he could.  HIs fingers tightened around her bottom, grasping and squeezing around whatever he could get ahold of.

His powerful digits kneading into the soft doughy swells, he found himself letting loose.  Squeezing into her soft cavern he split the malleable hills apart, he could feel a gasp of air escape her lips as he pushed further inside of her while doing so.  Her every reaction, the way she let him know she loved what he was doing, always did it for him.  The stimulation from their simple touches, the way that she squirmed when he took command, he never knew he needed and now he could never live without.  

His hips rocked back and forth, her insides massaging his manhood, tasting the pleasures of the flesh as they pushed further into one another.  He knew he had to be quiet, lest their teammates wake up, but he found himself far too enthralled to care if they did.  In fact… perhaps the thrill of having one of his gorgeous teammates watch them, perhaps too stunned to do anything, was something he could really enjoy.  He whispered gently into her ear as he worshipped her small lithe form, “I love you~  You’re my goddess~  My beloved~  I want to breed you, I want you to bear my fruit so badly.”  

Her response was the same as usual, a little tingle encapsulated her womb as she bit down upon his lip, tasting his flesh as she attempted to endure his loving assault.  She was weak to his teasing, weak to the way he made her feel loved.  She could never get enough, never wanted to get enough.  His words danced within her head, powerful feelings surging from deep within her body.  Her core, trembling weakly as it was, began to give on her.  The feeling of completeness seeped from her very depths and while she tried to savor the soft touches.  She wanted more, wanted him to take her so very badly.  

She couldn’t speak, but she knew how to get him going, a simple peck to the lips as she grasped upon his shoulders.  Tugging against him she flipped their bodies, he was now above her, their blankets no longer covering their naked forms.  She found herself awestruck, like she always was, when the soft silvery moonlight fell upon his chiseled body.  She’d done so much to help him get to where he was, and she’d be damned if she didn’t appreciate the results.  Even now she couldn’t help but run her finger down his biceps, slowly tracing towards the abs.  A mighty thirst filled her, eyes falling back to him as she begged him.

“Fuck me, break me.”

She wanted him badly, wanted him to treat her like a toy, wanted him to let loose like he hadn’t been able to do till now.  She began to care not if her teammates knew, in fact they could know all they want, she wanted them to realize just how much he belonged to her.  

Jaune got the message loud and clear, any reservations he may have had about being quiet quickly went out the window as he shoved himself further against her.  Her tightness grasped upon him, his body moving as she wished him to ravishing her till she began to release him reaching for the sheets as her fingers sunk into the bedding.  

Creek Creek Creek

The bed began to move as his pace skyrocketed, his body penetrated her depths, no longer slowing down he began to ravage her insides.  The harder and faster he went the more she tightened around him, her bumpy ridges massaged against his cock, grinding against the fleshy stick as he immersed himself in the pleasure.  

Neo lavished the sensation, her insides tightening around him needing him inside of her more and more.  The tip of his cock grazed against her cervix every time he pushed into her, with every new lunge he got closer and closer to battering against her womb and she loved it.  She loved the way that he grasped her legs, and pulled them back over her head.  Loved the way her lower body no longer touched upon the bedding.  She loved how he began to fuck her, to ravage her, to rape her into the sheets.  Her body needed this, she LOVED him dearly, she loved how easily he could switch for her.  And she LOVED how he pushed her further down.  

Even as the first orgasm hit the two of them he refused to stop.  Even as her body quaked in overwhelming pleasure, and even as his jerked baby maker released its batter relentlessly into her oven.  He’d refused to back down.  Incited by perhaps the thought of being caught, he’d entered a frenzied fuck.  No longer where they having sex, she could tell this had become something else.

“Get pregnant, I want to get you pregnant, have my children, bear my babies.  I need you to have my kids, please get pregnant.”  His voice chanted loudly and clearly to her, his body now entering a rut.  He was no longer fucking her for pleasure, he was fucking her with the intent on spreading his seed far and wide.  Oh how she wished she could accept it now, but she knew that he knew they couldn’t.  Not just because of the shot, but because both of them had goals in mind.  While she wanted to protect him, she’d always dreamed of helping those that were lost just like her.  

So his words, they reached and touched her heart, but they both knew they couldn’t happen.  Still, her womb reacted accordingly.  As he plunged into her depths, her cervix opened hungrily, drinking his seed hoping that his constant thrustings didn’t spill the precious nectar.  

The stirred liquid sloshed within her body, succumbing to the pleasures of being filled, of having her womb poured directly into.  She couldn’t help but enjoy the wonderful feeling, and as for Jaune?  He’d lost it, no longer thinking with his upperhead, he buried himself, slammed himself, devoted himself to breeding her as best as he could.  The two, so caught up within their sinful desires, failed to notice though the jealous green and sky blue eyes watching them.

Neither of them noticed the way that their sheets shifted as their hands worked between their legs.  

Weiss… Weiss couldn’t believe what she’d seen, couldn’t even fathom that what was happening in front of her was actually happening… but there it was.  The brother and sister duo had always struck her as odd… and she kind of always knew something was going on.  But to actually see Jaune… that buffoon… that idiot… that… that specimen of a man!  Push his sister down, take command, and BREED her.  That hadn’t… that just… it was too much.  The thick smell wafted within their room, her mind falling into a deep haze.  She didn’t know how they’d planned to hide it, not with the thick scent of sex filling her lungs as easily as it was.  

She hadn’t meant to start, but her body desired touch, it craved satisfaction, so before she could consider stopping she’d already begun to reach between her legs.  Her fingers slaking across her soft core dipping into her tight virgin slit.  She began to want more than this, it wasn’t enough… and she… oh gods she needed it.

Pyrrha was very much the same, she thought seeing her crush crushing his sister would have been more upsetting than it was.  But instead she found herself directly pulled to it, she’d been unable to pull her gaze away from the very start succumbing to the desires of the flesh.  She wanted to be treated that way, wanted Jaune to plunge into her to take her virginity and taste her flesh.  She… she wanted to be bred like Neo was being… she needed to.  

Unlike Weiss, she had no reservations about sliding her fingers between her thighs, a pool of moisture forming and sliding down her leg and onto her sheets before she’d even started.  Her body stirred into action as she rubbed against her clit, her shudder and a sigh escaping her lips as she started to play with herself.  Her digits roaming freely within her.  She needed to do something, her fingers proving not enough to cleanse the burning fire boiling within her.  And… as she watched Jaune and Neo, she came to a conclusion.  It just so happened that Weiss came to the exact same agreement.  They wanted Jaune, and they would have him one way or another.

[bonjour-rainycity]

A Friend

|masterlist|

A/n Anon, thank you for your request and for your patience!! I hope you get a break soon <3 Please do what you can to take care of yourself! 

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: TW - ANXIETY // TW - ANXIETY ATTACK // TW - STRESS 

Word count: 1308

Request: Jasper x Reader where the reader catches the attention of Jasper with the overwhelming emotions he feels from afar and it’s the reader in the middle of a silent anxiety attack in a remote hallway (she’s just walking back and forth with a hand over her chest, trying to breathe) and he comforts her without actually using his power. He kind of just listens? And tells her when to breathe in and out? I’ve been going through a very rough week and nothing is going the way I planned, so I wanted the reader to feel like she’s stressed from schoolwork, college decisions, and being a musician who always has to put in time to practice while also being sleep deprived af because that’s been me for the past year and a half

If Jasper had a blood pressure, it would be rising.

The forceful cacophony of hundreds of emotional climates converge upon and disorient one individual: himself.

After so many years of this existence, Jasper is relatively good at managing the excessive input. He knows how to identify the emotions of those important to him and let the others fade into the background — never completely gone, but not at the forefront, either.

But today, on this cloudy, nondescript Thursday morning, there is one emotional climate he cannot ignore.

It’s chaotic. It’s panicked. It’s frantic.

Jasper raises his hand and excuses himself from class — humans tend not to disagree with him, even if he doesn’t come up with a great excuse. I left a book in my locker. Well, he’ll have to return with a book after he’s located the person waging war on his senses.

Once free of the cramped classroom, Jasper allows himself a breath. The scent of barely-concealed human blood is tempting, but it is much more manageable due to experience and frequent hunting. There was a time when, had Jasper gone searching for a human, his body would have interpreted it as a hunt, and the human likely would not have survived the encounter. But now, Jasper feels confident in his footsteps, trusting in his ability to not commit murder, as Carlisle calls it. Besides, even if the call of the blood is tempting, Jasper has no desire to attend another of his victim’s funerals.

As Jasper turns a corner, the emotions intensify. The core emotion, the loudest, most pressing, is one he knows well — anxiety. Others — stress, exhaustion, indecision, hopelessness — swell and ebb, each fighting for dominance in this poor human host. As he enters another hallway, Jasper registers the sound of sneakers hitting the linoleum floor — the human is pacing while attempting to take deep breaths. The breaths are stilted though, jerky, and from what he knows about humans, they probably aren’t doing much to calm the human down.

A final turn and Jasper locates the source of the emotions — a human girl he had a science class with last year. She hasn’t noticed him yet and he takes the opportunity to assess the situation. An anxiety attack for sure.

Jasper clears his throat.

The girl’s wide, panicked eyes meet his and she sucks in a labored breath. “S-sorry, I—”

Jasper shrugs, doing his best to seem nonthreatening. He doesn’t want to add to the fear she’s already feeling. “Don’t worry about it. Are you okay?” Mentally, he chides himself. She’s obviously not. Hesitantly, he takes a few steps forward, shortening the distance between himself and the girl. She keeps a hand on her chest, probably trying to ground herself with the rise and fall.

“It’s—it’s nothing,” she mutters, it sounding half like a gasp. “I’ll be fine, I just need to calm down.”

Jasper nods evenly. He could use his ability to do the work for her, but he knows that would only be a temporary fix; she’d probably just have another episode the minute he and his power left. So, he elects to attempt a different strategy, one that might actually help long-term. Jasper strides forward, careful not to startle the human, and sits on the ground, resting his back against the faded blue lockers. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Her paces falter and she stares at him, clearly trying to assess if the offer is genuine. Jasper tries for a smile but then quickly lets it fall off his face, worried showing his teeth will frighten her.

The human huffs and a feeling of desperation momentarily swells forward, then is overpowered by stress.

“Okay,” she shrugs, seeming to sag under the weight of her exhaustion. Her pacing resumes. “Everything is just too much. The semester’s almost over which means I have way too much schoolwork to even think about, everyone’s expecting me to make these huge college decisions that could affect the rest of my life — I mean, what if I choose wrong? How will I know if I’m choosing wrong or right? And then throughout all of this, I somehow have to find time to practice. I already don’t have enough time to get all my homework done, so how can I get to practicing? But somehow both have to be a priority!” She whimpers, the sound shaky and defeated. “So I get it all done, sometimes, but at the cost of my sleep. I can’t remember the last time I felt well-rested. So I stay up to get all these things done, but then I don’t have the energy to do these things well, but I need to be doing these things well to get into a good college so I don’t screw future-me over.”

The human’s pacing—which had sped up in accordance with her words—stops. Her shoulders sag and she sinks to the floor next to Jasper, leaning her head against the lockers, staring at the ceiling. “It’s just a lot,” she mutters, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes.

The frantic note to her emotions has faded, but the anxiety and stress are still there. Now though, the feeling of overwhelmed comes to the forefront, as well as a general sense of being lost.

“Breathe in and out,” Jasper advises.

She gives him a dubious look. “That doesn’t help.”

“Come on, do it with me,” he encourages, showing her an exaggeratedly long inhale followed by an equally lengthy exhale. He really shouldn’t be breathing in such close proximity to a human, but he finds himself wanting to help her. No one should have to deal with so much, especially not by themselves.

She acquiesces and follows his lead, taking deep breaths.

Her heart rate begins to slow.

They sit like that for much longer than the time needed to ‘get a book from his locker,’ but Jasper doesn’t mind. He’s happy to be here helping this human feel better again. The piercing, destructive emotions are calming, slowly but surely giving way to relief and a tentative measure of peace.

The human closes her eyes. “Thank you for listening.”

Jasper furrows his eyebrows, confused by her gratitude. She did all the hard work, he only sat there. “Of course. And you know, you don’t have to have everything planned out or do it by yourself. It’s all going to work out.” An old phrase comes to mind, something his mother used to tell him back in his human life. He smiles fondly at the memory. “But you can’t pour from an empty cup. Before you can contribute to school or practice or make big decisions, you have to take care of yourself.”

She smiles softly, nodding, and a note of amusement comes forth in her feelings. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Jasper waits a few more minutes until her anxiety is gone. Then, he turns to look at her. “Are you ready to go back to class?”

There’s a momentary spike in her stress, but a deep breath calms it once again. She nods. “Yeah, thank you again for sitting with me.”

Jasper smiles. “My pleasure. Can I walk you?” He finds himself not quite ready to leave her. He wants to make sure she’s completely okay and settled before going back to his own class.

The human accepts his offer with a smile. The two walk slowly, talking about things they’re excited for in the upcoming days. By the time they arrive at her classroom door, the human feels rejuvenated, hopeful. She pauses before entering the classroom, waving goodbye. “See you at lunch?”

Jasper nods, promising to himself that he will check on her then. “See you at lunch.”

And, as Jasper heads back to his own class, he makes himself another promise. As long as he’s around, the human girl will always have a friend.

[ejlovespie]

Crazed (Pt. 1)

Pt. 1 of this series.

Fandom: Supernatural 

Summary: A hunt gone wrong leaves you with a hex that drives you and Dean crazy with lust.  

Pairing: Dean x reader 

Word Count: 2016

Warnings: 18+ Please do not read this if you are underage. Language, smut, female & male masturbation with more to come...

You were starting to seriously regret going on this hunt. Sitting in the back seat of the impala, you and the Winchester boys were driving back to the bunker after what you had thought was a successful hunt. After three days you had found and ganked the witch who was causing men in the area to literally go crazy with lust. The witch had a vendetta on men and her favorite flavor was married cheaters. If you were being honest with yourself you understood her anger. A woman scorned and all. However, these guys didn’t deserve to die in the way they did...And now you were thinking you were screwed too. 

During the big showdown, the witch had gotten the drop on them. She knew they were coming for her so she was ready when they got there. She had immediately incapacitated Sam, who was lying on the floor in the corner. Then she had gone for Dean; putting him in a choke hold. You stepped in, stabbing the bitch in the back to get her off but unfortunately for you, she mumbled an incantation at you before the lights went out. At first, nothing happened so you had hoped you had gotten lucky. The witch messed up or she didn’t have enough juice left to give her words power. It took about an hour for you to feel anything. 

The three of you were headed back, dirty and disheveled from the fight, when a tingling heat started up in your belly. It was low and simmering, leaving you a little breathless but it wasn’t painful, just unexpected and odd. It was actually kind of pleasant but after a few minutes it started to ramp up. Little by little, the tingling was changing and turning into an ache. That combined with being in a small confined space with the two big hunters was starting to frazzle you. The smell in the car was suddenly too much. A mix of gunpowder, gasoline, leather, and the boy’s musky scents didn’t sound like a pleasant combination but you had always liked it. Except it was way too potent now. Filling your nose and making you a little light headed. On top of that, you were way too hot, despite the cold temperature outside. Rolling down the window, you practically stuck your face out like a dog to get some fresh air. You started fidgeting in your seat as the ache kept growing and you became aware of the new wetness in-between your thighs. Why wasn’t the cold air helping? 

Dean had noticed all your fidgeting and weird panting. Starting to worry that you were hurt or feeling ill, he turned his head to look at you and said, 

“You okay back there sweetheart?”   

Dean’s deep, gravelly voice was too much and it caused a reaction in you that you hadn’t expected. His voice made the tingly, aching heat in your belly change into tiny bolts of lust. Gasping, you struggled to breathe without panting and responded as calmly as possible, 

“I’m fine. It’s just hot in here.” 

Sam had been reading something on his phone, oblivious to the situation but now he looked over at his brother, a frown on his face. They were in the middle of a Kansas winter and it was cold in the car, despite the heat being turned on. The boys exchanged confused looks before Sam finally turned around to look at you. 

Sam looked at you and instantly knew something was wrong. He noted your flushed cheeks and the light beads of sweat above your lip and brow. He noticed your fidgeting and your quiet but heavy breaths. When you looked up at him Sam’s eyes went wide with surprise. He saw that your Y/E/C eyes had gone completely dark. Your pupils were blown and a heavy expression filled them. Although he hadn’t seen you like this before, he knew it was desire. 

You quickly turned your face away from Sam and looked back out at the window. Where were we? How long of a drive would it be until you got back to the bunker? It felt like hours had past but you were struggling to concentrate on anything besides what was happening to your body.

Sam was definitely worried now and turned back to Dean. 

“Dean, stop the car.” 

You barely heard Sam’s voice and you didn’t register the car pulling off to the side of the road until Dean had parked. Dean gave Sam an annoyed look and then glanced back at you. His green eyes suddenly went wide and his mouth dropped open. Normally, it would have been funny but now you had the focused attention of both Winchester boys and it was devastating to your body. It was too much and your panties were now soaked. You knew if you stood up, there would be a noticeable wet spot on your jeans. Dean’s mouth snapped shut and then he said in a low, husky voice, 

“Y/N what’s going on?” 

You could smell your arousal now and that thought didn’t even have the time to to embarrass you before it happened. The tiny bolts of lust suddenly ramped up again and a full on orgasm struck you. You came fast and hard, pure lust jolting your body and without permission, a cry left your lips. 

Now, both of the Winchester’s eyes went cartoon-ishly wide and their mouths dropped open. Y/N’s eyes slammed shut as her hands gripped the backseat of the impala and a cry of pleasure ripped from her lips. Dean choked on what he was about to say when the most sexual sound he had ever heard came out of Y/N’s mouth. Did she just have an orgasm because that’s what it looked and sounded like. Was that even possible? Not even a second after he thought it, her smell filled his nose. Her musky and sweet sex smell was surrounding him and he was so shocked his brain had short circuited. Without thought, Dean’s hand automatically went to his hardening cock. Suddenly, Sam jumped out of the car simultaneously feeling freaked out and turned on. Why was this happening?

After the orgasm, you had a moment of clarity. Loosening your death grip on the seat cushion you opened your eyes to see Dean’s dark green stare. His thick lips were parted now and his voice was low and seductive when he said, 

“Did you just have an orgasm in my backseat?” 

The lust in your belly had cooled but now you felt the entire process happening all over again. You realized your nipples were rock hard and rubbing painfully against the fabric of your cheap cotton bra. Suddenly, Sam opened the door and leaned in to look at you more closely. 

“The witch. Did she say anything to you before you killed her?” 

Oh Shit. With how distracted you had become you had completely forgotten about the witch and what she had said to you. 

“Yes. She mumbled something before she died but I didn’t catch all of what she said.”

The heat in your belly was ramping up again, faster this time and you closed your eyes. Taking deep and slow breaths. You focused and repeated the words you could remember the witch saying to you. Sam asked you if she had touched you or if she had slipped a hex bag into your pocket and you shook your head. Sam spoke again. 

“Y/N, she must have hexed you. The guys she killed were dying because they were driven crazy by lust and I think the same thing is happening to you.”

You weren't hearing his words anymore and Sam was too close. The mix of his natural musky smell and the hint of his cologne was filling your nose and driving you crazy. You tried fighting the feeling inside you but you had been unconsciously leaning towards Sam. Without thought, you reached for his hand, grabbing it and bringing it to your breast. Sam jerked and pulled away from you causing his fingers to graze over your hardened nipple. You moaned loudly and whined when he backed away. Sam took several steps back, his face on fire and his jeans too tight for comfort. His best friend was in trouble and he couldn’t focus long enough to help her. 

Dean on the other hand watched the whole encounter and was pissed. He had always imagined what it would be like. Usually at night, alone in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He would picture Y/N and imagine the way she would look when her beautiful Y/E/C eyes filled with desire and he would wrap his hands in her Y/H/C hair and fuck her until she came for him. He had dreamed about the sounds she would make and the way she would taste and how she would open up for him. Now, he was finally seeing his fantasy come to life and it was all wrong. 

Dean jumped out of the car too and stomped over to Sam. 

“This is bad Sammy. The bitch is dead so why is the hex working on her?” 

You were vaguely aware that the boys were outside and it sounded like they were arguing. Shit. Shit. Shit. The witch really fucked you over. At this point you were starting to loose control again and the ache was consuming you. Your brain wasn’t working right. You touched yourself against your jeans and it felt so good that you started to rub yourself through the fabric. The pleasure was so intense, that you didn’t notice Dean walk back over to you until your eyes flew open and you saw him staring at you. His expression was dark and so sexy. He was leaning towards you in the back of the impala. His large presence and delicious smell combined with the movement of your hand had another orgasm tearing through you. Another loud cry escaped your lips and this time the waves of pleasure kept ripping through you, intensified by Dean’s hungry look. You were moaning and panting now, unable to stop the feeling inside of you. Biting your lip you stared and Dean and he stared back at you with a look you had never seen before. 

“Dean. I..It won’t stop...I can’t control myself. Wh..Whatever that bitch did to me, It..it’s going to keep getting worse.”  

You panted the words out in between heavy breaths. Dean wanted to lay his hand on your cheek and tell you it would be okay but he was afraid to touch you. Scratch that. He wanted to do a lot more than that but he took a deep breath and reigned in his desire.  

“Don’t worry sweetheart. We are going to get you home and figure this out.” 

With superhuman strength, Dean backed up, called Sam over and got back in the driver’s seat. For the next few hours, they drove home and it was unbearably tense. The car smelled like sex, even with all of the windows rolled down. Y/N had been making an effort to keep her panting and sexy moaning as quiet as possible but every small sound was deafening to Dean’s ears. He turned some music on to help distract them all but regardless, they sat with their teeth gritted. Every time she came she would cry out and it took everything he had in him to keep driving and ignore her. At one point it became too much and they had to pull over to put hand cuffs on Y/N to keep her from rubbing herself. 

When they finally got back to the bunker, Y/N had finally tired herself out a bit and was mewling in her sleep. Dean gently carried her to her room, settling her into bed before quickly leaving. Finally, he couldn’t help himself anymore. He stripped out of his clothes, locked himself in the bathroom, and imagined her and the noises he had been listening to all night. Turning on the shower he didn’t wait for the water to heat before he jumped in and fisted his throbbing cock. Under the icy cold water, Dean stroked himself until he came hard and fast, groaning in frustration that he wasn’t coming with her.

To be Continued...

A/N: This is my first fan fiction so I am nervous but really excited to share it with you. I would love to hear any feedback you have to give. Any mistakes are mine. Thank you for reading! :)  

[stardust-kenobi]

First

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan finds out that you’re a virgin after an evening with him at the bar. You asked him if he would be your first.

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: vanilla smut, soft obi wan🥺

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I do have a few requests I have received that I will be working on this week. This one was mostly taken from a fic I wrote with a different character a while back. It was edited to fit Obi Wan💕

gif cred: @princessxkenobi

The liquor coated your throat as you threw back the remains of your fourth, unnecessarily strong drink. Your eyes met the dark, dimly lit ceiling of the bar as your head was tilted backward. You weren’t wincing at the awful flavor anymore as your taste buds became practically numb. You confidently slammed the glass onto the bar, nonverbally announcing you were ready for some more alcohol.

The very busy bartender was quick to replace your glass, reminding himself of the money he’d be making off of you this evening. Your best friend, Obi Wan, had accompanied you to the bar tonight. It was not often that he’d let loose but this evening, he’d thrown a few drinks back himself. Anakin had joined you two as well, but he left so that he could spend some quality time with Padme. The two of you remained in the bustling and rowdy crowd, clinging to the bar and chatting the time away.

An odd looking, clearing intoxicated man approached you on the left. Obi Wan stood next to you on your right.

“Hello, pretty thing” he slurred his words. You attempted to scoot away from him. Obi Wan had not noticed his presence yet.

“I said hello” he repeated himself, this time with a sour, demanding attitude.

“I’m not interested” your words were blank and empty of emotion. Obi Wan perked up, now fully aware of the situation.

“Bitch” the man spat at you.

“Excuse me. what is the problem here?” Obi Wan intervened, thankfully.

“This whore right here. That’s the problem” his verbal hostility heightened the dramatic nature of the situation. Obi Wan moved to step in front of you and protect you, he opened his mouth to defend you but he was rudely interrupted.

“What? Is she fucking you? Is that why she won’t fuck me?” He inquired, putting harsh emphasis on his words.

“Alright I think it best if you le-” Obi Wan began, fully prepared to physically throw this man out of the bar if necessary. A fun, drunk driven idea found its way into your thought process.

“Yes, we are” You interrupted proudly and shot to your feet from the bar stool. You turned to Obi Wan behind you and flashed him a please-go-along-with-this look. His expression was still angry.

“Aren’t we, Obi Wan?” You continue and wrap your arm around him sloppily and place your other hand on his slightly exposed chest.

You felt the effect of the alcohol intensify as you moved. Obi Wan’s expression had transformed from pure irritation directed at the man, to satisfaction directed at you and your newly formed plan.

“Yeah.. You heard her” Obi Wan attempted to sell the lie while you’re wrapped around him. You could tell he was drunk too. It was subtle, but you’d been around him enough to pick up on his inebriated signals.

“Prove it” The man blurts out suddenly. Obi Wan looks down at you clinging to him with a clueless look on his sweet face. You assume he has no idea how to play this out and decide to take it into your own hands. There was no time to give silent messages to each other now. You moved your face toward his, tension growing exponentially. You grasped his shirt and pulled him into you. Your uncoordinated motions caused your lips to crash onto his harder than you’d intended. Nonetheless, Obi Wan’s lips moved so passionately against yours.

Although this kiss was all for show, you felt a warm tingling feeling in your stomach. The man stood next to the two of you and watched, completely speechless. You smirked slightly against Obi Wan’s lips, silently communicating to him. You move your hand from his chest to his groin and grope him firmly. Obi Wan jumped at the contact then groans quietly into your mouth. After a few long seconds of passionate kissing, you pulled away with a sly look on your face. You nodded your head and raise an eyebrow to the man’s annoyed face. You turn back to Obi Wan, observing a surprised, yet satisfied look plastered across his expression.

“Ah that ain’t nothing, y’all just made out” He said, tremendously unconvinced and displeased. You threw your hands up in frustration and Obi Wan belted out a hardy laugh for more reasons than one. Normally this would be out of character for him. His mood would have turned way too serious very quickly had that situation occurred while he was sober.

“Seriously? Do you want to watch us fuck for you to be convinced?” You rhetorically ask him, hoping he wasn’t actually going to say yes. Your filthy words were shocking to you as they flew off your tongue. Obi Wan jolted his attention to you, you didn’t see it, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Really I just want to see you without any clothes on, so yeah sweetheart that would be great” He responded, earning an uproar of laughter from himself.

“Fine, we’re going to right now. But you’re not coming, sir” You announced. You wrapped your fingers into Obi Wan’s hair and plant another kiss on his lips before guiding him by the hand around the corner that was unoccupied and lacking light.

Once you both had escaped the man’s presence and came around the corner, both of you broke character.

“What are we doing, y/n?” He whispered and giggled drunkenly, following you closely.

“Shh let’s just get in here” You suggested. Your mind began to wander as you contemplate whether you were ready to lose your virginity tonight. The idea both terrified and excited you simultaneously. Was this still a joke? Was it serious now? Everything was a little blurry for you at the moment.

You both scurried into the unoccupied area and you peak around one last time to make sure you weren’t followed. Once you found yourself in the quiet and darkness, all you could see was a silhouette of Obi Wan’s figure and his crystal blue eyes somehow still glistening. There was silence as you admired him in this setting.

“So…are we really gonn-” Obi Wan started to inquire.

“Oh no!” You cut him off and instantly realized how harsh your words came out of your mouth.

“Right, right. Of course, that was stupid, I shouldn’t have asked that” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, displaying his slight embarrassment for asking. You then felt heavy guilt on your shoulders for reacting in such a way. You wanted Obi Wan, more than any other man you’d known, but you were afraid of losing your innocence. Especially not when you weren’t prepared for it. It was your nerves speaking, not your true desires.

“Obi Wan…” You began. He motioned politely for you to stop explaining yourself before you even start.

“Y/n you don’t have to say anything, really” Obi Wan said apologetically.

“Let me.” You firmly demanded. “Look, Obi Wan. I know we were doing this as a joke to mess with him, but i’m a little drunk right now and I just feel like telling you this.” You fiddled with your fingers for a moment then looked at him. You weren’t sure if he could see your nervousness. “I’m a virgin” you stated suddenly and boldly, getting it out, finally.

Obi Wan looked at you for a moment and you’re almost able to read his mind through his gestures. He didn’t know what to say, that much was obvious.

“Oh. I see.” He finally broke the silence. He rubbed his beard softly. “Why haven’t you ever told me that?” He inquired, sounding offended and hurt that his very close friend never mentioned her sexual history.

“I was…ashamed…I don’t know” You weren’t sure what to say at this point. You leaned against the wall and hide your face in your hands. Truly you had no need to feel ashamed but you present yourself as such a mature woman at times, you felt a fool for admitting you had no experience in that specific department.

“Y/n, you have nothing to be ashamed about” He assured you softly and places his hand on the wall above your head. He was dangerously close to your face, you could smell the hint of liquor on his breath that was also present on yours.

“I know, I just…I want to, y’know…have sex” You continued. “but I haven’t had the opportunity with someone I really care about.” You kept your focus on the ground below you and feel Obi Wan’s hand rest on your shoulder to provide emotional support. You could tell that his offered consolation was hesitant as he grew nervous for what he’d say next.

“I care about you, darling” Obi Wan began, “and I think you’re…” He paused for a moment and audibly swallowed, “absolutely beautiful.” The last words trailed off toward the end. He was too shy to confidently express his admiration, even with his altered mind. You blushed, of course unnoticed by Obi Wan in this low lighting. “And I’m not just saying that because we’re both drunk, I really feel that way” he continued. You smiled softly and turned your attention to him. He met your eyes in the same moment, reading your mind in the same way you were able to read his before.

His hand slowly grasped your face, gently pulling you closer to him. He was trembling subtly. Your heart began to flutter as it did when you first kissed, except this time it felt deeper, and more real. His soft lips graced yours so tenderly. There was a level of passion in this kiss that you’d never felt in your life and you soaked in every bit of it. You allowed your lips to dance with his for as long as you both allowed in that moment.

You pulled away, and nervously breathed out.

“I’m glad that one was real” He chuckled.

“Me too” You agreed and leaned into his arms. “Obi Wan?” you requested his attention.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“When I decide that I’m ready, would you be my first?” You spilled out of your mouth. You feared what he might say in response.

“I’d love to, Y/n.” He flashed a friendly, comforting smile. “It would be an honor” He confirmed and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. Somehow this conversation was more heartwarming than sexual. You knew he cared about you so deeply and for you to ask him that probably made him happy knowing you trust him in that way.

“We should probably stay back here a little longer, maybe that guy will get bored and leave.” You suggested. Obi Wan nods in agreement.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it if he tries to bother you again” he firmly reassured you.

//

In the weeks that followed that unexpected night, you and Obi Wan had developed a beautiful, slow paced relationship. For a while, it was unofficial and overall, unsure. The flirting skyrocketed and the constant sexual tension grew more obvious to you with every moment you spent near each other. One night when the moons glowed brighter than usual, and everything felt right, Obi Wan told you how much he really loved you, and officially asked you to be his, making you feel complete. You two, of course, had to keep the business of your courtship a secret, considering he was a Jedi, and all. Most people assumed you were only friends, as you always had been. You were still a virgin, and Obi Wan was willing to wait as long as you needed.

“You’re worth it, y/n” he would always remind you.

You were once faced with a difficult situation regarding the secrecy of your relationship when you were approached by Mace Windu, asking for an explanation of your extended amount of time with Obi Wan. Somehow, you were able to lie to a Jedi and get away with it, but it surely was a close call. To Master Windu’s surprise, Obi Wan very sternly put him in his place about interrogating you. This put quite the strain on their relationship. But again, Obi Wan assured you,

“You’re worth it, y/n”.

This altercation forced the two of you to be more secretive in the future.

That was a week ago. Today, It was a calm, pleasant day. The sun was peeking through the infrastructure and partially shining through the balcony in Obi Wan’s room, a good indication that it was approaching dawn. Obi Wan was peacefully still snoozing off the previous night. You’d stayed the night with him unintentionally. You’d been there late, and fell asleep on his couch. He covered you in a fleece blanket and let you sleep rather than waking you and making you leave. Although the sun crept itself onto Obi Wan’s relaxed face through the wide balcony and neighboring window, he remained at rest. You sat in the chair next the bed, legs curled up, watching his chest gently rise and fall, admiring the sound of his peaceful breathing.

You studied the lining of his jaw that was speckled with thick hair, yet still so soft. His lips were ever so slightly parted. You smiled to yourself and turned your attention back to the rising sun. You became so lost in your thoughts you were slightly startled by Obi Wan’s voice.

“Good morning, love” His voice was gruff, sleepy, and so adorable. You turn around to look at his fatigued smile and head still rested on his pillow.

“Good morning, Obi Wan” You sweetly replied. “It’s a beautiful day and you’re lazy butt is just sleeping it away” you teased.

“Get over here, you” He chuckled and pulled the covers back with enough room for you to snuggle in there with him. You happily obliged.

You placed your back to his bare chest, asserting yourself as the little spoon. You’d never seem his so exposed and it made your heart flutter.

“You might feel, um-” Obi Wan began. Before he finishes his statement, you felt a bulge press against your ass. You were pleased to feel this but you assumed Obi Wan was likely embarrassed by it. “It’s uh, because I just woke up, that’s all” he tried to explain himself.

“Hush” You attempted to shut him up. You grinded your hips back into him, causing him to groan quietly. You teased him further and rotate your hips slightly. One of your favorite things to do was tease him relentlessly.

“Darling” He growled and pulled you closer into him, if that was even possible. You turned to face him, planning to act on something you’d considered for a while.

“I want you, Obi Wan” You whispered. “I want you to make love to me”. His eyes widened happily. His mind was racing and it was obvious to you. You were so nervous to even bring it up, but he was never going to be pushy about it, so you had to make the first move.

“R-right now?” He stuttered.

“Well, I mean, if that’s okay” You shyly responded. He smiled ear to ear and looks away, then back to you.

“Oh it’s more than okay, Y/n, but” Obi Wan paused and sat up in bed, “I want to get myself cleaned up for you first. It’s your first time, you deserve for it to be special”.

You melted at this gesture and felt relief knowing that he wanted to do this as well. Obi Wan ran his fingers through his messy hair then reached for your hand, pulling it to his lips and planting a kiss softly on your fingers.

“I’ve just been thinking about it a lot recently and…I know that I’m ready” You admitted.

“Tonight” He replied, “Are you okay with doing that here?” He inquired as if he was asking himself simultaneously. You nodded your head in approval to which he positively replied with a nod as well. You kissed him on closed lips quickly before rising to your feet.

“Then I will see you tonight, Master Kenobi” You smiled and exited his room slowly, closing the door behind you.

You had spent the day letting your nerves get the best of you and over thinking the endless possibilities of what could happen.

As the sun got lower, your nerves rose higher. The sun just barely crept over the horizon now. You took a sharp breath in and decided it was a good time to go to him. Your stomach was tied in knots and your legs trembled subtly with every step. You were so excited and so terrified at the same time. As you get near his quarters, you walked yourself through what was going to happen again. The door opened to reveal his robe apparel that was more formal than usual. He scanned your body and admired your flowing evening gown.

“Wow…you look…beautiful” He seemed damn near speechless. You looked normal at best, but he was still amazed at your appearance somehow.

“Thank you Obi Wan, you look very handsome yourself” You reciprocated the compliment. You kept reminding yourself to calm down and steady your hands. Just in time, too, because Obi Wan grabbed them delicately and led you into his bedroom. You were in awe of the mood he had set. The room was lit only by about 30 candles. There were rose petals that circled the bed, creating a romantic atmosphere. He turned to you, seeing the nervous smile on your face, and closed the bedroom door behind you.

“This is wonderful, Obi Wan” you express your gratitude for this preparation.

“Only the best for you, my darling” he whispered.

Obi Wan took his gentle time initiating the events to follow. He approached you hesitantly, displaying signs of anxiousness. He smiled warmly at you and minimized the distance between you two standing in the middle of his bedroom. You felt like you were awkward, not knowing what to do with your hands. He raised his palm to your flushed cheek and rubbed his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned into you slowly, as if he’s never kissed you before, and placed his ready lips upon yours. As both your lips move gracefully together, you felt yourself begin to relax. Obi Wan repositioned his idle arm to wrap around your waist and pulled you into his warm body, leaving no space between you two. Your tongues meet, increasing the passion of the kiss. He shuffled his feet toward his bed, keeping his grip on you so that you move together. He faced your back toward the bed and lays you down gently before hovering over you, only breaking your kiss for a moment. He ensured that you were comfortable before continuing.

His hands traveled to your neck and gently caressed your collarbone. He removed his lips from yours and presses them against your open neck. You moaned so softly, having your mouth now absent of his touch. Obi Wan sprinkled kisses all over your chest above the line of your dress. It took so little from Obi Wan’s physical affection for you to become incredibly aroused. A warmth formed between your legs you were familiar with, although it was never acted upon. Your fingers fiddled with the clasps on your dress before he noticed your attempts.

“Let me, Y/N” He whispered into your ear and continued what your trembling fingers began. He first pulled your cardigan off slowly and worked on pulling your dress off your shoulder. You lifted your body and helped him slide it to your feet, leaving your body more exposed than you’d ever been in front of a man before. Your gown left no room for a bra, so with the absence of your gown, so was the exposure of your breasts. You felt so self conscious but you couldn’t let that ruin the moment. He removed his robes and under shirt before you were given a chance to assist and left his broad, hair speckled chest open to you. You traced your fingers on his chest and admired his masculine shape.

Through a few more kisses, and traveling curious hands, Obi Wan reached the hem of your panties and he flashed you a look that requested consent. You nodded in acceptance to have your body completely given to him in its most bare form. Chills shot down your body as he slowly removed them from your curves.

You were absolutely nude now and you looked away from him shyly. Obi Wan did not take notice of this and moved himself back to get a thorough look at your body. He released a low, melodic growl from his throat in appreciation for your figure. You felt another chill cascade over the surface of your skin.

“Stars, y/n, you are perfect” He praised you. You chuckle quietly and bite your lip. After his long look of appreciation, he lowers himself to lay next you, planting several more kisses on your lips. His wandering hand that wasn’t placed behind your head traveled to your thighs. He traced your folds with his middle finger and felt how achingly wet and ready you were for him.

“Oh y/n, did I do this to you?” He whispered seductively into your ear. You nodded, unable to create words. His fingers rubbed your clit delicately, finding the perfect rhythm to get you going. You began to squirm lightly under his touch and produced innocent whimpers into his ear. Obi Wan took his time with every move he made, making sure to put your pleasure first. He then slid his middle finger inside of you slowly. You gasped and it was immediately followed by a whimper. He pumped his finger in and out of you, careful to only use one to begin with. His thumb remained at your clit, still rubbing at the same pace as the thrusts of his finger.

“Yeah, that’s it. You’re doing so good sweetheart” He praised you again so tenderly, encouraging your sweet sounds of pleasure.

You moved your lips to intertwine with his while his skillful fingers do wonders to you. You make no effort to cease your moans into his mouth, it seemed to turn him on every time you did. His mouth then diverted its attention to your breasts, sucking tenderly at your nipples.

“Obi Wan” You called to him through your moans.

“What is it, darling?”

“I want to make you feel good” You pleaded.

“I have to take care of you first” He insisted. His fingers increased their pace only slightly and you begin to feel your stomach tighten gradually. Each motion of his hand felt better than the last. A sensation you had felt only in your own times of private intimacy with yourself began to grow inside of you, stronger than what you’d experienced before.

“Oh my god” You moaned deeply as a wash of ecstasy floods your body beginning at your clit and radiating throughout every inch of you. Your back arched and he placed his unoccupied hand under your arch suddenly to keep you on your high.

“Mmm, that's it, love” He moaned. Your intense whimpers faded slowly and your limbs trembled slightly.

Obi Wan then removed his fingers from your pussy slowly. He pulled his trousers off of his body for you as you floated off your high. His cock sprang free from the tight grip that once restricted it. You were in amazement at his size and couldn’t help that your jaw literally dropped. He nervously laughed at your reaction to him. You were hesitant, afraid that you weren’t sure how to handle or pleasure him the same way he was pleasuring you. You sat on your knees while Obi Wan laid flat on his back. He looked at you as if to wonder what your next move was.

You gripped your hand gently around his pulsing cock that was desperate for your attention. You parted your eager lips and moved your face toward what you held in your hand. Your lips made contact with his tip and he breathed in briefly and sharply. You lowered your mouth onto him until his dick is met with the back of your throat. Steadily, you picked up the pace and bobbed your head up and down onto his length. Obi Wan’s moans were soft and innocent to begin, but they were growing louder and more intense with your increased pace.

His fingers found their way to the back of your head and intertwine themselves in your hair. He guided your head as you move.

“Fuck” he mumbled in the most sexy way, causing you to internally melt. He doesn’t allow you to spend as much time on him as he did for you. He gently lifted you from his cock and pulled you up to his face, passionately kissing you. You instinctively placed one leg on each side of Obi Wan’s hips. You intended to lower yourself on him but he stops you suddenly by wrapping his arm tightly around you and switching places with you. It was clear that he was more focused on making this pleasurable and easy for you during your first time.

“Are you nervous?” He whispered intimately, hovering over you. His eyes were dimly illuminated by the candles filling the room, revealing only a hint of the bright blue that you knew was there. Your fingers traced his shoulder delicately, down to his arms, to his hand placed next to your head. You get so lost in his eyes, you momentarily forget he even asked you a question.

“No” you answered confidently, “I trust you”.

Obi Wan smiled at you and then diverted his attention south. He grabbed his member and lined it up carefully at your soaking wet entrance. With tremendous caution and patience for you, Obi Wan pushed his hips into you. There was a sharp discomfort inside you and you winced, noticeable to Obi Wan.

“I’ll go as slow as you need me to” he assured you, “I don’t want to hurt you”. He finally buried himself completely inside of you. You were so tight wrapped around him that he almost lost it immediately. It was such a wonderful new feeling to experience being this close to Obi Wan. Your body adjusted itself quicker than you anticipated to his size. He began to thrust slowly, still giving you time to adjust to him. A soft whimper escaped your lips, notifying Obi Wan that you were experiencing pleasure rather than pain now. Once his thrusts find perfect and steady rhythm inside you, he began to groan softly with you.

Your eyes met and locked on each other while he continued to curl his hips passionately into yours.

“Does that feel good, Y/n?” He moaned and kissed your neck gently.

“Yes, Obi Wan” You managed to mumble through your new feeling of pleasure.

Obi Wan becomes louder, his moans sounding so sweet to you. He couldn’t hide his pleasure on his face, and neither could you.

He swiftly moved your leg around him, placing his body behind yours, still deep inside you. You were both laying on your sides. He wrapped his arm around your waist in front of him to gather better leverage on fucking you deeply. There was something about this position that hit new sweet spots inside of you. You couldn’t help but let profanities fly from your mouth.

“Oh fuck, Obi Wan, yes” You breathlessly moaned. His hand moved from your waist to gently rubbing your still very sensitive clit. You twitched at this contact but he still lightly rubbed you, intensifying your pleasurable experience.

“Oh god, I’m gonna c-” you cried, unable to form the full sentence. That same euphoric feeling overcomes you again as Obi Wan continues to pound into you steadily. This time your orgasm was stronger, and you attempted to cover your mouth to muffle your sounds before Obi Wan protested.

“No, darling, I want to hear you” he purrs. You released what you tried to suppress into the air. You come down slowly from your high. He released his fingers from your clit and thrusted a little harder now.

His groans and whines were getting a little more choppy, indicating he must be close. He buried his face into your shoulder to muffle his sounds. His body tensed and he roughly gripped your hip as he reached his high.

“Y/n” He mumbled your name and growled while he released himself in your pussy, filling you.

He took a moment to recover before removing his dick from inside you. He laid flat, you do as well and move to lie against his chest. Neither of you speak for a while, and rather enjoyed the silence of being in each other’s presence. He kissed your forehead before breaking the silence.

“I love you, Y/n.” He stated suddenly. You smiled ear to ear, unable to hide how over-joyous you were to hear that. You’d heard it before, but it just felt different this time.

“I love you too, Obi Wan”

[liquidheartbeat]

She Didn’t Choose This Life: Flashback

Barry’s fork and knife clink loudly against his plate, as he scoots his chair backward, hands perched on his inflated abdomen. “God, I am stuffed,” he says, already regretting finishing off four T-bone steaks and all the rich, decadent sides that rounded off the meal. 

From across the table, the eyes of the woman responsible for his predicament widen, as she cuts into her barely-touched steak. “Oh, really?” Iris asks, chuckling.

“What?” Barry asks, tilting his body forward. 

“Well, we’ve been dating for almost a year and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you full. Like actually satiated.”

Barry chuckles as he nods, slight unease shooting through him. It’s a simple explanation, really, but he can’t tell her that being The Flash has increased his caloric requirements, because he hasn’t figured out how to tell her that he is the Flash.

And it’s not because he doesn’t want to, it’s because, everytime he scrounges up the courage, he finds out another unsavory secret about her lifestyle. 

When they first met, she’d introduced herself as an art buyer, but conveniently left out the part about also international money laundering. That discovery had come months later, in the dead of night, when she’d slipped out of the bedroom for a phone call with one of her partners but wasn't nearly as quiet as she’d thought.

Of course, that led him down a rabbit hole where he also found out about the tax fraud and other financial crimes that would put her away for life if she was ever caught. Crimes that, if committed by anyone else, he’d gladly help prosecute as a member of the police department. But she’s not anyone else, she’s Iris, the first woman he’s ever fallen completely, wholeheartedly in love with. 

And yes, her misdeeds probably should make him love her less, but his heart doesn’t abide by common sense. Even from across the table, as she hides a lifetime of secrets under her smile, he knows the same lips that lie to him about her whereabouts and the source of her wealth tell sweet truths to him in the middle of the night. About how much she loves him and needs him. 

The same hands that gleefully count dirty money, help massage away aches she doesn’t know the truth origins of at night. The same hands that consort with criminals bring his body to romantic peaks, over and over again. 

And the same eyes that stare into him before he leaves her apartment each morning, connect with his soul, and let him know her love is real. 

As real as his is. 

“Barr,” she says sweetly, as she dabs butter from the corner of her mouth. “Did you hear me?”

“Hmm?” He asks, snapped back to the present. 

“I said...I’m glad you enjoyed dinner, because it’ll probably be a few more months before I sweat out my hair to cook again,” she says as she stands to gather her half-empty plate and glass. 

Barry laughs, gathering his hands on the table as she walks over to the counter. “It’s a shame a cook as good as you hates it so much.”

Iris returns to the table, walking over to where he’s sat. “I don’t hate it, it’s just time consuming, and my jobs…”She pauses, playing off her flub with a smile, “I mean job ...is very demanding. Doesn’t leave much time to cook.”

Barry frowns, nodding slowly. Another lie, and an unnecessary one at that. But she doesn’t notice his disappointment as she gathers his empty plate and saucers. “If I wasn’t with you,” she continues as she walks his dishes to the sink,” I probably wouldn’t cook at all.”

His smile returns slowly -- a truth, however small, makes him feel special. “Oh, really?” 

“Pretty sure. But my man likes to eat,” she says with a smile as she turns towards him, “So I have to oblige him from time to time.”

“So you cook...just for me?”

“Duh.” As she nears him, she pushes her slightly frizzy hair behind her ears,.

“Well, what else are you willing to do just for me?” He asks, eyes sparkling with mischievous intent as she stands over him.

Iris rolls her eyes fondly. He’s so stinking cute, extra cute when he’s confident, but she doesn’t have time. Not tonight. 

After their dinner, she has another engagement with a potential business partner that could potentially double her income for the year. Of course, she can’t tell Barry that. He’s a sweet, by the book CSI, who definitely won’t take kindly to her extracurricular activities.  

Shaking her head fondly, she steps backward, but he catches her by the skin of her flowy cotton top and pulls her into his lap. “Barry,” she protests, but only for a moment because his hand shoots to the base of her head and guides her open mouth down towards him. 

For a skinny guy, he’s way stronger than his physical makeup should allow for. He effortlessly twists her legs around his waist, and pushes their bodies together. But she doesn’t question it. She embraces it, moaning harshly as he kneads her ass in his hands. 

They haven’t had sex in a few days, and not just because of her schedule. He works long -- sometimes odd -- hours. But she assumes it’s par for the course, for a CSI. And she’s this close to putting on a show for her kitchen appliances, especially as he slinks his fingers towards the seat of her cotton shorts, dipping one near her slit. But that little touch of pleasure snaps her back to reality. Dinner and a little makeout sesh is the only thing she can offer him tonight. 

“Barr,” she breathes, as she catches his hand. But he’s defiant as he curls his finger against her.“I can’t,” she whimpers. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I gotta...prepare for work tomorrow.”

He lets out a loud sigh, face wrinkling in dissatisfaction. It’s a look she's becoming increasingly familiar with, appearing any time she mentions work. 

It should strike her as odd, but doesn’t. “Oh, babe,” she says with a pout, as she runs a hand through his hair. “Don’t be mad, please.”

He sighs again. “I’m not mad. I’m…” Disappointed. Wish you would tell me the truth , “ he thinks, but he actually says: “Upset. You've been ‘working’ so much lately. And Friday nights are supposed to be our uninterrupted time.”

Iris pouts, hating when she disappoints him. Hating that she has to keep such a huge part of herself from him. Of all the men she’s ever dated, no one has ever made her feel as loved, as safe, as desirable as Barry Allen. 

And yet, she feels she doesn’t fully deserve the love he gives so easily. Love -- true love -- isn’t shrouded in secrecy and shadow lives. But what will he think of her if he finds out who she really is? 

Just cancelling an overnight date has him looking like she punctured his lungs, and she can barely stand it. Biting her lip, to quell the trembling, she brings her other hand up, and rests them on his shoulders. 

He’s so tight and fraught with tension, and her touch seems to intensify it. God, he’s really mad at her. She tilts her head, managing a soft smile as her hands move in tandem across his shoulder blade, increasing the pressure as she moves. His eyes flutter closed, defiantly, her hands attempting to squeeze the displeasure from his body. And then she leans down, pressing a soft kiss just underneath his earlobe. “I promise, I will make this up to you,” she says, softly, “Okay?”

She lifts her head up to meet his face, still rife with displeasure.

“When?”

“Tomorrow-- promise.” In actuality, she has another client meeting tomorrow, but it doesn’t have as much riding on it. And she can’t possibly stand to see Barry look at her like this twice in one week. So she’ll have to reschedule.

“Fine,” he agrees.

Iris smiles, and thumbs his chin, happy for the compromise. “Thank you, baby, for being so understanding. I’ll make it worth your while.”

"Any time with you is worth my while,” he says earnestly, his words nearly drawing tears to the surface of her eyes. 

But she sniffs, hoping to keep them at bay. She can’t close this deal if she’s an emotional mess. And then she smiles, offering him one last kiss for the night. 

Though the need in his return drags one kiss into four, five, and six kisses. At least until she manages to snap her neck backward and pry herself from his lap. 

As she stands, she fixes her clothes, which almost ended up in a pile on the floor. Her eyes catch the time on the clock and she realizes she has less than 25 minutes to get ready before her business meeting. 

“So,” she says, casually, “Do you want me to walk you down to the lobby?”

“No, that’s alright,” Barry says as he stands. “Unless you want me to beg you to change your mind in front of your neighbors.”

Iris laughs softly. “No, definitely not.”

Barry stills, taking in the sight of her. She projects an effortless beauty, even with no makeup, slightly frizzed hair and pajama shorts. He takes a step forward and leans down to kiss her on the cheek, knowing that if he aims for her lips, he might not be able to stop himself. 

And while he’s not happy she’s working on a Friday night, at least she’s cleared Saturday for them. She leans up into his kiss, softly palming his shoulders with her hands. When they part, she holds his gaze. 

Two beautiful, chestnut brown eyes looking up at him sweetly. “I love you,” she says softly. 

His response is effortless. “I love you too -- now, tomorrow. Forever and ever. 

She squeezes her hands together excitedly, and does a little sidestep. It’s an obvious attempt to make fun of his saccharine tone, but he doesn’t mind -- in fact, he welcomes it, shaking his head from side to side. 

“Anyway,” he says through a growing smile, “I’m going to head out, and let you handle your business.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Just please... be careful. I don’t know what I’ll do if  something happens to you.”

His words are weighted with hard truths she doesn’t yet know he knows, yet his tone still uneases her. “What could possibly happen?” She asks, feigning obliviousness. “I have like the safest job in the world.”

He sighs, loud and hard, but goes forward with her charade anyway. “By the time you return from the museum, it’ll probably be really late. Dangerous. You have to be careful.”

“Oh,” she says, eyes widening. Of course, he thinks she’s going to the museum. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“You are going to the museum, right?”

She pauses, just long enough for him to prepare for the lie to come.

“Uhh...yeah.”

His brows furrow as he crosses his arms across his chest. “Are you sure?”

She forces out a laugh, hoping to quell his rising concern. Because if she doesn’t get him out of here now, her entire evening will fold. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” She smiles fluttering her eyelashes “Come on, honey. I gotta get ready.”

He takes a moment to contemplate whether or not to call out her obvious lie, but ultimately decides against it. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She smiles wider. “Bright and early,” she says, as she glances at the clock, growing wearier of his presence. 

“Yeah,” he deadpans, out of options. “Bright and early…”  

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

  Five minutes later, Barry swivels absentmindedly in his office chair, chewing on the dead skin of his thumb. Caitlin, who’s been watching his skittish display, glances over to Cisco, who pretends he doesn't notice her pleading gaze. Eventually, he sighs and begrudgingly casts down the chain of sour straws he’s snacking on, and scoots forward. 

“Dude. Just go talk to your girlfriend," he replies, voice filled with disdain. 

Barry shoots him a warning glance, in no mood to deal with his best friend's judgement over his choice of partner.  “Don’t.”

“Fine.” Cisco throws his hands up. “Then do...that...all night. But I’m going home.”

Barry sighs. When it comes to his relationship, talking to Cisco is like talking to a brick wall. He turns to Caitlin, hoping his other best friend can offer some advice.” Caitlin stews in silence a moment, carefully gathering her words. The things Barry uncovered about Iris are damning, and a stark contrast to the straight-laced businesswoman persona she presents outwardly. But she’s also seen the way Iris looks at him, those rare moments they all hang out, like he hung the moon just for her with his bare hands. 

Yet, still, she has to ask:  “Do you think she could be seeing someone else?” Her words are careful, knowing how touchy of a subject this is.

Barry huffs. Almost offensively. “No.” At least he hopes. “But she’s definitely still lying about her plans for tonight. Probably another dirty deal she doesn’t want me finding out about.”

Unable to resist, Cisco presses a hand into his chest. “Iris West? A LIAR?” He gasps.  “You don’t say.”

Barry shoots up from his chair, a second away from lunging at Cisco but Caitlin blocks him with her body. “Cisco. Please,” she scolds him backwards, gently pushing Barry in the chest.

That seems to calm him, as he flops back into his seat with a sigh. But Cisco pushes forward.

“Cool it, Cait. Alright. I’m not the one who’s leading on our best friend -- she is.”

“She’s not leading me on!” Barry yells, scooting to the edge of the chair. “She’s just…”

“...Not just an art dealer,  apparently, not in good standing with the IRS -- or at least she won’t be--and in no danger of becoming a Girl Scout troop leader. Or a nun either,” Cisco retorts.

Barry shrugs, unphased by his recounting of events. “So she’s not perfect. But I have my own secrets. “

“Yeah. You’re the Flash, but, she's a criminal, who lies to you constantly. About what she does, where she goes. How many times, since you found out, have you had to save her from the trouble she’s gotten into?”

Barry sighs; he’s almost lost count of the number of times Flash has scooped Iris from the pits of danger, during a business deal gone bad. Shadowy figures, unrelated to her business dealings, looming in dark alleys after she’s left some abandoned building, scorned men whose pockets she’d bled dry, but who couldn't pursue legal action due to their own dirty dealings, who took things into their own hand. 

One by one, he’d laid out anyone who crossed her path and had the audacity to even breathe at her wrong, which all amounted to silent acknowledgement between her and Flash. Because she damn sure hadn’t told him -- Barry Allen -- about these chance meetings. 

Another reason he had to be cautious around her. She held her cards too close to her chest. 

Cisco takes in a sharp breath. “I just want better for you man. You deserve someone who doesn’t lie to you.”

Barry holds Cisco’s gaze. “She might be a liar, but when she tells me she loves me, it’s not a lie. And because of that, I can’t just throw away our relationship -- we can get past this. I know it.”

Cisco rolls his eyes and twirls his hair round and round his finger. “Whatever.”

Caitlin, who’s grown tired of Cisco’s negativity, faces him. “If you’re not going to offer Barry any understanding, you should probably excuse yourself.”

“Fine,” he says as he shoots up, “’I‘ll go.” But when Barry finds out something else about Iris that he can't handle, I can’t be the person he vents to anymore. ” He pauses and turns towards his friend, who’s struggling to bite his tongue. “It hurts to see you like this, man.”

With that, Cisco makes his exit, leaving just Barry and Caitlin in the room. Awkward silence fills the space he leaves, as those little stubborn nuggets of rationale, in between Cisco’s snark, tries to penetrate his brain. 

Slowly he looks up at Caitlin, a fervent lea in his eyes. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you and Iris need to have a talk. A long talk, about what you know about her. How dangerous this game she’s playing is. But most importantly, what you need from her, going forward if you’re going to work, romantically. Which I imagine is total transparency.”

Barry nods slowly, taking in her advice. These are things he already knows he’ll eventually have to do, but he still still isn’t ready, He doesn’t know how Iris will take him knowing the truth about her, and he’s not ready to deal with any potential fallout.  “You're right,” he says, the only answer he can scrounge up. “I wish you weren't, but you are.”

Caitlin tilts her head sympathetically, unspoken words fighting to be free. 

“What?” “

  “You….also... need to tell her you’re the Flash. I know, you have reservations. But if you’re willing to stay with her, through all she’s doing, she deserves to know who you are as well.”

Barry sighs, letting his head fall into his hands. There’s a universe of lies between them, and he worries their relationship is too new to handle such added weight. But he can’t continue to live like this, and can’t let her continue to live like this. They’re either going to be together, without secrets, or...He pauses, unable to let the rest of the sentence form in his head, then shoots up. “Okay. I’m going,”  he says, finally. “I’m going to go talk to her.”

“Goo-,” Caitlin starts, but he’s gone in a flash of lightning, before she can finish her statement.

  ************************

Iris steps out of her bathroom, with barely a minute to spare before Randolf Helming, the owner of the Helming Hotel chain arrives. He’s looking to cut his tax bill in half, by funneling some of his cash into a few high end art pieces, and he thinks Iris can assist him. What he doesn’t know is that the pieces she’s going to sell him are forgeries that only 1/10 art experts can spot. So she’ll pocket his commission for her time and also the value of the real paintings she’ll sell again to an unsuspecting schulub, later in the year.

Probably to some secluded older gentlemen, who buys art for social prestige, thousands of miles away in Prague or Berlin.

A hefty journey to travel, but a necessary trip if she’s going to do better at covering her tracks. Over the past few months, some of her old dealings have started to catch up to her, and she’s had more than her fair share of brush ups. 

Oddly, though also fortunately, enough, she was saved each time by Central City’s guardian angel: The Flash. Though, at this point, it almost felt like he was her own personal angel, always seeming to be in the right place when she was in the wrong place.

She’d think it strange if not for the multitudes of people he saves everyday. 

As she makes her way into the living room, she takes one last look at her appearance in the big mirror hanging over her fireplace. Her previously frizzed hair has been tamed into a low pony-tail, and her face has been painted with a light dusting of makeup. But it’s her attire, a chic red, high-waisted skirt and black fitted blazer blazer that's sure to wow any potential business partner. 

A knock at the door pulls Iris away from her thoughts. She pulls at her skirt, not wanting to give Randolf the wrong idea -- she might be dressed to the nines, but this is not a romantic engagement; she has to work to do-- then waltzes over to the door. 

“Mr. Helming “ Iris says warmly, as she opens the door. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

The silver haired man, who hovers around around 5’10 and is dressed in a light gray suit, lets his eyes travel unabashedly down Iris’s body before he greets her. “It is my pleasure, Ms. West.”

He takes a huge step into the apartment, nearly brushing his body against hers. Uncomfortable with the closeness, Iris steps backward, letting out a nervous chuckle. She doesn’t usually entertain her clients -- legitimate or otherwise -- in her home, but she figures that someone as high profile as Mr. Helming has too much to lose to act out of turn.

Still, the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention as her attempt to create distance does nothing to soften his gaze. “Well,” she says, running her hand over her hair, “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“Oh, yes,” he mimics, seemingly remembering the reason for his visit. “Business. Lets.”

Iris smiles politely and steps aside to give him ample room to enter further. He strides past her, and heads for the couch, taking in the sight of her place as he walks. “Wow. The art world has treated you quite, well, huh?”

Returning from closing the door, Iris walks over, proudly. “Yeah, I guess you can say that."

At the couch, Randolph takes a seat in the middle of her cream colored sofa, and spreads both arms across the back. Iris, who was gearing up to take a seat next to him, pivots and takes a seat in the black recliner sitting adjacent to the couch. 

He frowns and scoots his body towards the end nearest to the chair, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.  

“So. I hear you’re trying to lessen your tax burden,” Iris says, diving straight into business."

“Yeah.” He crosses one leg over the other. “My hotels are doing well. But as it goes, I owe the government 10s of millions this year in taxes and so I need a tax write off. And a big one.”

Iris smiles. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I just so happen to have a direct connection to the Murdock Estate, who handles affairs for the late oil painter, M.N. Murdoch. They’re looking to unload a couple of pieces for the right buyer.”

“And when you say right…”

“Well, aside from the assets to afford the seven figure price tag, they’re deadset on selling it to an astute businessman -- someone who understands the value of fine art.” But who can’t tell a forgery from a real pieces.

He nods, pleased with her response. “Well, let’s see these paintings.”

Iris pulls her phone from her pocket, and opens up the PGN files of the paintings, still on display at the Central City Art Museum and hands it over to Mr. Helming. He takes the phone, finger sliding haphazardly across the screen, sending him back to her home screen. 

“Oops,” he chuckles.  I clicked off of the screen. Can you fix it?”

“Of course.” Iris reaches for the phone. As he releases it, his fingers graze over hers, sending a wicked chill through her. 

His skin is somehow cool, yet sweaty at the same time. Iris draws her fingers in awkwardly as she retrieves the phone and reset the screen. From the corner of her eyes, she sees him wipe his palms on his pants leg. Her return is smoother; managing to hand over the phone without making skin to skin contact. 

Randolf takes a moment to look over the pieces, genuine contemplation painting his face. His concentration on the task at hand eases her growing anxiety a tad, though the silence that settles over the room still tickles her nerves.

She glances over to the table, where the unfinished bottle of wine she and Barry had for dinner sits, and her mouth nearly waters for a glass. But she doesn’t drink while doing business -- at least not this kind.

When she looks back over to Randolf, he’s done with her phone and also eyeing the wine. “I could go for a glass, myself,” he says over a prickly laugh. 

Iris opens her mouth to respond, then realizing no words are coming out, pushes out a choked response. “Right.  Of course. Is Merlot okay?”

He nods. “That’s just fine. Though, if you have something a little stronger, I wouldn't object.”

"No,” she says quickly. “Just the Merlot -- I’m not much of a drinker.” She stands and smoothes down her skirt, and walks across her living room, towards the kitchen. 

Iris had already cleaned up from dinner, so she goes to the cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses. Even though she doesn't drink on the job, she has to at least pretend to indulge him if she wants to close the deal. 

Glasses in hand, she turns for the island and lets out a loud shriek when she notices Randolf is standing just feet away, at the other side. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you walk over,” she quickly offers towards his slightly offended expression. 

“Oh.” He relaxes some. “I am quite light on my feet -- blame my wife.”

Iris quirks a curious brow. “Your wife?”

“Ballroom dancing,” he says, settling his weight over the island. “She makes us go once a week. On my one off day too.” 

She smiles politely. “That is very sweet. I’m sure you two have a lot of fun.” Feeling more comfortable at the mention of his wife, Iris walks past him towards the table where the wine is sitting. 

His shoes scuff her floor as he turns, a sound that easily penetrates her eardrums. Iris turns just in time to see his outstretched arm, reaching for her. She  pulls away right before he lands and steps backward. He presses forward, trapping her between him and the table. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, now on high alert. 

He sighs harshly, his body drooping from the aggravation as his face contorts into a frown. “Oh come on; surely, you know how this works, Iris.”

“How what works?”

“I could get art from any buyers in the city. Men much more accomplished than you. If I came to you, it’s because of an added incentive.”

“Which is?” 

“ You.” He tries to press his body into hers, but Iris pushes him in the chest. He stumbles, but only barely, as Iris rushes to the other side of the table, grabbing the half-empty bottle of wine as a weapon.  “Get out. NOW,” she commands voice loud and firm. 

Much firmer than her nerves on the inside. There’s no way she can overpower him, physically. And this high up, no one will hear her screams from her penthouse. 

“Or what?” He asks, casually rounding the table, completely unphased. 

“Or I will bash your fucking skull in.”

She raises the bottle higher, hoping to appear more threatening. He chuckles, nearly spits at her attempt. “Oh, you’re not going to hit me. Not if you want to keep doing business in this town. Remember, I have a lot of rich friends. One word from me, and you’re toast.”

“Excuse me?” She asks, overcome with offense at his audacity. 

 “You heard me!” Randolf yells as thrusts himself towards her, and tackles her to the ground.  

The bottle of wine falls from her hand, shattering into a million pieces on the floor around them. He tries to kiss her and Iris squirms underneath him, fighting to free from his grip, shards of glass digging into her exposed flesh. She yells, the stinging pain piercing all her nerves.

 “Shut up!” He yells, wedging his leg between hers as he plants a firm hand round her neck. 

Iris freezes, pinned in place, chest heaving up and down as his tar-black eyes singe a hole through her.

“There.” His smile is dark and haunting. “This isn’t so bad is it?” 

Unwilling to let the last sight of her be a disheveled, powerless woman, Iris spits clean on his face. His hand shoots to the spot in disbelief, face as red as the blood trickling from the wounds on her leg, “Oh, you’ve done it now!” He yells, drawing his hand backward.  Iris presses her eyes shut, preparing for the blow. But where she should feel stinging pain, possibly a broken nose, she only feels a gust of wind and the relief of Randolf’s body no longer being on top of hers. 

The crash that follows is deafening as the force propels Randolf into her walls. And that’s when she sees a red blur, wrapped up in blazing lightning, delivering the final blow that knocks Randolf clean out. 

His limp body falls to the floor, his skull cracking against the luxury vinyl tile that covers her kitchen floors. The masked hero, who she now registers as The Flash, comes into focus. She watches him watch look over Randolf's unmoving body, making no effort to check on him.

Iris uses her depleted strength to stumble upward, grunting as fresh shards of glass pierce her hands. She lets out a guttural cry, nearly tumbling over from the pain. 

From the shock. From the devastation. 

He runs over and catches her, letting her body crash into his soft, open arms. She can’t even scrounge up the energy to wonder how or why The Flash has yet again saved her from herself. She’s completely overwhelmed at the fact that this night couldn't have ended so much worse.

And then come the tears, a ravenous stream down her face. Iris presses her hand into face, to block the sight of her 

“Oh, God. Are you bleeding?” Asks the masked man in panicked frenzy, though his voice unmasks him immediately.

Slowly, Iris raises her head, every odd encounter with the Flash she’s had over the past few months settling into place like a finally-finished puzzle. All the she time she almost met her demise, but didn't. 

He looks at her, fear coursing, over the lingering anger in his eyes, but that voice is unmistakable. It’s the same voice that awkwardly asked her out nearly a year ago, and grew giddy when she agreed. The same voice that’s crooned sweet “I love you’s” in her ear since that first night he nervously admitted it, over frozen yogurt.

“B-” Her throat is dry and ragged. “Barry?” She pushes out. 

With a sigh, he tears his cowl off, revealing fully the face of the man she loves more than she knew was possible. His cheeks are bloodshot red, his eyes puffy, and glossy, a clear sign his own tears will soon spill forth. 

“Oh, Iris,” he groans, sweeping her up into his arms. 

Now knowing this masked hero is the man she loves, has been the man she loves, she melts further into his chest, every bit of hesitation to maintain an air of control falling away. She cries, shamelessly, unabashedly, into his chest as he rocks her. 

She has a thousand questions, and knows he does too, but she can’t scrounge up a single one, only caring that he’s here now. That he’s saved her. Again. 

As Iris goes silent, Barry’s mind races a thousand miles a minute. He’d taken Caitlin’s advice and headed here to talk to her about her lies, never imagining the scene he’d walk in on. He can’t think straight, can’t even worry about his former objective, he’s only grateful that he got here in time before…

“Fuck!” Yells. Iris jumps against his chest, but he’s unperturbed. “You could’ve. He could’ve…” He continues, trying to push past the ugliness these sentences conjures in his brain, but the defeated shame on her face stops him. 

He kisses her cheek, and stands, lifting her in his arms, bridal style, though the apartment is devoid of the the joy of a burgeoning marriage. The air is heavy, as heavy as both their hearts, as her body in his arms. Yet he soldiers on, through the resistance. When he arrives at her bedroom, he kicks the door open with one foot and carries her over to the bed, covered in the black, floral comforter he’d bought her as a gift early in their relationship. 

Before he knew of the lies and deceit.

As her raw skin makes contact with the bed, she hisses in discomfort. “I’m sorry!” he’s quick to say, swiping a comforting hand over her head. 

“It’s okay, Barr,” she croaks Her voice is thin, barely meeting the air. She's afraid to bring up the obvious, knowing now that the sweet, gentle man she’s been getting to know over the last year is The Flash. A masked hero, a force of nature, keeping the city from descending into anarchy. But she has to express her gratitude somehow. “Thank you.”

He swipes a gentle hand down the side of her face, lingering on her beauty, then leans down, planting a soft kiss on the side of her face. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, as her straightens his posture. “Now, I’ll be back.” He turns away from her and heads to the bedroom door. 

Iris sits up on the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“To see if that asshole is still breathing. Hopefully, he’s not. But if he is, I have to drop him off at Iron Heights.”

His response is dry, matter-of-fact, and it sends a tingle down her spine. “But. You can’t. He’ll talk.”

“It’s okay.” Barry continues to walk away from her. “He didn’t see my face.”

“But. Still. I don’t think jail is the right path for him.”

She isn’t saying what she wants, and he knows it. But he’s too amped up to care. “So I’m supposed to let the man who almost raped my girlfriend go free?! Is that what you want?”

“No. I…”she sighs, long and hard. “I just…”

He turns, the painful implication settling inside of him. Even after all of this, she’s worried about her dirty business deals. “What? You’re worried that the police will find out what you’ve really been doing all this time? How can you afford to live like this?” He motions around the apartment. 

Iris gulps, the judgement in his tone hurting more than the gashes on her legs. 

“Well, newsflash: the police -- me, I -- know, and have known for months. And what you’re doing, honestly? You deserve to be in jail.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?” She croaks. “Why haven’t you turned me in?”

He chuckles, offensively. “Because...I love you more than your mistakes. And I was trying to give you time to either stop this or be honest with me.” He shrugs, painfully. “Guess it’s too late for that.”

“Barr, I’m sorry. I--.” She sighs, letting her head fall forward in shame. “ I’m sorry.”

Barry sighs. “Yeah. Me too.” He casts one final look of disappointment over her, one that softens ever so slightly when she raises her head and he meets her sad, concerned eyes. “Look, we can talk about all of this later. All that matters right now is that you're safe."

Iris nods meekly.

"I’ll be back in a sec to help clean you up,” he says, before flashing away, leaving her alone in the room....

[remedialpotions]

Relief

It’s my favorite non-holiday today - Ron’s birthday! Happy 41st to my favorite fictional person 🧡

also on AO3

***

The beam of light pierces the room, straight into Hermione’s eyes and through to what feels like the back of her brain. With a wince, she rolls and tries to bury her face in the pillow, seeking the respite of cool linens and darkness, but it’s no use. The headache that had eased in her sleep, though never fully subsided, is back with a vengeance.

England has no business being this sunny this time of year. It’s March; isn’t it meant to be cold and rainy and grey for days on end? Instead, to her great distaste, spring has arrived early.

She tries to sit up, but her limbs are like lead, and for a moment, as the pulsing behind her eyes intensifies, she takes a deep breath and wonders if she should even bother. She’s just in for yet another miserable day, one of struggling to raise her arms enough to wash her hair in the shower, of forcing down dry biscuits to quell the roiling in her stomach, of averting her eyes to avoid the pity in everyone’s gaze. It’s been six straight days of this, and all she wants is to feel better, to be better, and yet she knows that might not happen. She thinks of the Longbottoms in the Janus Thickey Ward, unable to speak or recognize their own child. She knows she’s not that poorly off, not even close. She’s still got her voice, hoarse though it may be, and her mind, and she’s grateful - but what good is her mind if she’s in too much pain to think?

What finally compels her from the bed is basic, simple thirst. She pulls on a dressing gown, some flimsy, silky thing that Fleur has loaned to her, and creeps silently out the door. Stairs are daunting lately: if she moves slowly, her ravaged muscles ache and burn, but if she hurries, the drop between each step sends a jolt right up her spine into her brain. Today, with her head pounding so intensely that it makes her dizzy, she has no choice but to guide herself slowly down the steps, gripping the guardrail the whole way down, and hope her legs don’t give way.

But she makes it eventually, and when she reaches the kitchen, she finds that she isn’t the only one awake. A tea kettle sits in the center of the worktop, beside a jar of sugar with a spoon plunged into the crystals. There’s only one person in the house who takes his tea with sugar, and the very thought imbues Hermione with enough energy to fix her own cup and walk down to the sitting room.

Ron’s nestled into one of the larger armchairs in the room, feet tangled in the rumpled mess of his sleeping bag on the floor in front of him, with a book open in one hand and his mug of tea in the other. With the exception of Harry and Dean’s muffled snores and the waves crashing outside, all is quiet and peaceful. Right there, in that room, is exactly what she needs.

“You’re up early,” she says, just loudly enough for her voice to carry across the room.

Ron turns at the sound and the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “A little less surprise would be nice.”

Hermione takes a few steps towards him. Everything hurts, still, but it’s lessened somehow with the warmth of his voice, the way his features soften at the sight of her and the knowledge that whatever she’s going through, he’s there with her.

“And you’re reading.”

Ron quirks an eyebrow. “Again, a little less surprise-” His words break off, and he tilts his head. “D’you feel all right?”

Hermione sidesteps Harry’s rucksack and shrugs. “About the same.”

With a sympathetic wince, Ron pats the narrow stretch of cushion beside him. “Come and sit.”

Getting herself anywhere is a challenge, even within the walls of the cottage; only by the power of her desire to pay respects to Dobby and the knowledge that Ron would be there to support her did she make it down the garden walk last week. But he draws her to him now, like a magnet, and soon she’s nestling herself into the space between the arm of the chair and his leg. They fit, but very tightly, and it takes everything Hermione has not to swing her legs into his lap.

Instead, she asks, “what are you reading?”

Ron shows her the cover: A Life of Loyalty: The Unique Bond Between Wizards and Their House Elves. “I didn’t know you’d brought this,” he remarks. “Do you secretly read about house elves when the rest of us are sleeping?”

“Maybe,” replies Hermione, coy, which makes Ron chuckle. “Well, I did think it might be useful, Kreacher was involved with the locket, and that poor elf that belonged to Hepzibah Smith, she was the only witness-”

“I know, I know,” interrupts Ron, still smiling fondly at her.

“So why have you started reading it, anyway? Is it just the least boring of all my books?”

“Well, yeah, but no, I…” He takes a long sip of his tea, like he’s stalling for time. “I just wanted to see if it had anything, on, erm…” He swallows another mouthful. “Y’know… funerals.”

Hermione freezes with her teacup halfway to her mouth. “Oh.”

“Just, my family’s never had house elves, and Harry and Dean grew up with Muggles so they wouldn’t really know either. But I just keep thinking about Dobby, and if we did something wrong when we buried him, like…” He looks down at the cover of the book, lower lip sneaking between his teeth. “What if they have, y’know, customs or traditions or things that you’re supposed to do, that we didn’t do - maybe it’s stupid-”

“No, it’s not-”

“But I had to know.”

“Well,” Hermione begins, careful to keep her voice low to avoid waking the others in the room, “I happen to have done extensive research on house elves-”

“Oh, have you?” Ron feigns surprise. “You’ve really kept that quiet-”

“Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Sorry, sorry.” He reaches over and pats her knee. “Go ahead.”

“House elves live quite a long time, they can outlive the families they’re serving which is why they’re often written into wills, but when they don’t…” She pauses, her train of thought off-track, though not due to the ache behind her eyes; Ron is drawing tiny circles on her knee with his fingertips, and this simple touch fills all the space in her brain. “Erm, when they don’t, it’s up to the family they’ve served to decide what’s best. Dobby was free, but he was deeply loyal to Harry, so I expect that he would have wanted…” She stops and sips her tea to fight the lump building in her throat. “Whatever Harry chose for him.”

“Right.” Ron lifts his hand from her knee and rubs the back of his neck, further mussing his sleep-tousled hair. “Good. ‘Cause I just… I don’t want to mess up again.”

Hermione knows he’s thinking back on the past several months, and that he hasn’t stopped beating himself up for all that’s gone wrong. Even with things that aren’t his fault, he manages to find a way to blame himself. He can’t seem to see how much she needs him… so she decides to show him.

In the cramped space of the armchair, it takes just the slightest shift for her to lean against him and let her weary head drop against his shoulder.

“You haven’t messed up,” she says, craning her neck up to look at him. Normally this would hurt - her neck has been stiff and tense, just like every other bit of her - but when their eyes meet, she decides it isn’t so bad.

His arm eases slowly around her shoulder, and his elbow bends so that his hand rests against her hair.

“This all right?” he asks, words coming out in a breath. “I know your head’s been bothering you.”

“Yeah, it’s - it’s nice, actually.”

His fingertips move through her curls, just barely grazing her scalp, and when they brush over her temple, she can’t help but gasp in shock. She’s so accustomed to pain that she’s forgotten what pleasure is like.

“Sorry! Did that hurt? I’m so-“

Ron pulls his arm away, but Hermione grabs his hand and tugs it back into place.

“No, it felt good,” she assures him, nestling further into his side. “It’s helping, it’s - it’s the only thing that’s helped in days.”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t stop.”

As he resumes his slow, soft movements, she closes her eyes, but not before catching a glimpse of the contentment on his face.

She’s not better yet… but she knows now that she will be.

[comphersjost]

More Than This ➸ Mikko Rantanen

its 3 am and i couldnt wait to post this. its self indulgent, all of it

You have a thing for bigger guys. And Mikko, well, he takes notice.

word count: 3.9k+

warnings: slight angst? if you squint, reader cant get off, size kink (obviously), smut, thigh riding, mutual pining if you squint, sorta best friend!jt

masterlist

You didn't know how you let JT talk you into letting him swipe through your Bumble account. And you definitely don't know how he managed to get you to let him do it while displaying your phone on his Apple TV. And what you absolutely, totally, completely did not know, was how you let him keep going when Ryan, EJ, Gabe, Mikko, Naz and some of the wives and girlfriends arrived at his and Josty’s shared apartment. 

You'd known JT for years, so your dating life wasn't exactly a new subject for you. Besides, it had seemed fun at the time, the group of you lounging around the living room as JT swipes through Bumble for you.

“Hey what about this guy? He's cute!” Gabe says. JT scrolls through the guy’s profile.

“Wait,” you said, stopping him from scrolling any further. “6’4? Swipe right.”

The group erupts into laughter at your words, though you were being completely serious. JT swipes right anyways without scrolling through the rest of “Andy”’s profile, the group cheering as you match. You lock eyes with Mikko, completely by accident, and the dark look in his eyes tells you he knows something you don't. He stands, announcing he's going to get a drink from the kitchen, but you don't miss the smirk tugging at his lips as you gulp, your eyes travel up his hulking frame. 

Your attention is pulled away by Naz saying something about a guy’s bio being “ultimate douchebag vibes”, and that’s when you decide it's been enough. You snatch your phone back from JT, disconnecting from the screen mirroring despite the protests around you. 

“You guys have snooped into my dating life enough,” you laugh, “All thanks to Comph here, but that’s enough, seriously.”

With a grumble, the group relents, allowing the conversation to progress past “6’4? Swipe right.”

-

You were staring again. 

You knew it too. You also knew that if you didn't stop soon - like, now - you were gonna get caught. Again. Just as a thought goes through your head, you feel an elbow digging into your side. 

“If you want to fuck him, just shoot your shot.” You turn to glare at Ashley, finally tearing your eyes away from the blonde brute on the other side of the bar. You reach over to smack JT with the back of your hand as he starts laughing.

“Fuck off, dude,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Even if I wanted to - which I don't, by the way - I couldn't.”

“Says who?” JT says incredulously. “Besides, don't you have a thing for big dudes?” As your oldest friend of the group (though he wasn't always your friend for as long as you've known him, he was your brother’s friend from college before you moved to Denver), JT had the most shit to talk. 

“Says my contract with your team, Jimothy.” The ginger grimaces at the nickname, but lets it slide, opting out of his usual reaction of punching the guys in the arms when they called him that. Instead he laughs again at your defensive expression and your avoidance of his question, turning to call the rest of the guys back to your table. Your glare intensifies as he gives you a shit-eating grin. 

“Technically you don't know that it says that. What's the worst that could happen, Y/N?” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that was so unlike him. Drunk JT was the worst you thought. “I'm sure he’d be down for a -” he pauses dramatically “night of passion.” 

You gag at the way he says it, at the same time you here an accented voice say.

“Who wants a night of passion?” 

You tense, not having realized the rest of the team had actually come back so quickly. You force yourself to relax and paint a playful smile on your face, turning to look at the Fin. 

“Nothing, Jimothy’s just being stupid as usual,” you say dryly, scooting over as Mikko motions for you to move further in the booth. You pretend not to notice Ashley’s shit-eating grin as Naz rolls his eyes at her antics. Luckily no one at the table says anything incriminating before the boys start up a new conversation. 

In the chaos you almost don't notice Mikko stretching, placing an arm behind you on the booth. But you do notice, and it makes you stiffen. Mikko feels your body go rigid, glancing down at you with a confused pout. He leans down for a moment until his mouth is by your ear. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs as his hand drops to caress your shoulder in what you guessed was supposed to be a comforting manner. 

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you lie easily, avoiding his gaze. “Just a little on edge.” 

If it was possible his voice lowers, making you strain to hear him. “Just relax.” And - that really doesn't help, heat settling in your gut at the words. 

“Actually -” you say abruptly, finally meeting his eyes for the first time that night, “I think I’m gonna go home. I’m just not feeling it.” 

You can see Ashley watching you closely from the corner of your eye, but you don't turn to look at her. Instead you raise an eyebrow expectantly, motioning for Mikko to get up out of the booth so you could leave. He looks surprised by your sudden desire to leave - lips parted in confusion and what you thought was a hint of hurt. 

With a reluctant look on his face, Mikko slides out of the booth, stepping aside to let you slip past. You send a quick wave to the table, and after a brief goodbye, head towards the exit to wait for your Uber. You assumed Mikko sat back down as you walked away, so it surprised you when you heard Mikko call after you just as you'd begun to walk towards the curb. 

“Y/N! Wait!” 

Your step falters for a moment as you glance over your shoulder, pausin to let Mikko catch up with you. He reaches for you for a moment, before pulling back. 

“Are you okay? Seriously.” 

And like, you hate the concern in his voice. Stupid you think. Stupid accent and stupid pouty lips and stupid - 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mikko repeating your name, softer this time, as he takes a step closer to you. Your breath hitches at you stare at him towering over you, trying to force yourself to think of anything other than how his massive hands would feel on your body. 

“Yeah,” you finally choke out, taking a step backwards towards your waiting Uber. “Yeah, I’m good, just - I'm just tired and have a lot on my plate right now.” 

You're reaching for the door before he can respond, barely catching his faint “Text me when you get home safe!” before the door is closed. You pretend not to hear him. The driver glances at you in the mirror quizzically, seemingly wanting to ask how you left Mikko Rantanen outside of a bar without so much as a goodbye, but thinks better of it, turning up the soft music on the radio as he begins the drive towards your apartment. 

You feel drained when you finally get home, showering and changing into more comfortable clothes as quickly as you can before crawling into bed. Your thoughts drift to Mikko as you close your eyes, the heat in your gut from before returning. You consider taking care of yourself, but considering you haven't been able to get off in weeks, the idea seems even more exhausting, so you let sleep overtake you. 

- 

“You didn't text me.” 

You glance up from your laptop to see Mikko standing in the aisle of the plane, his eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown. 

“What?” you say dumbly, you stare up at him, forcing your attention away from one of his enormous hands as it curls around the back of the seat in front of you. You only succeed in noticing his thighs in his basketball shorts, the chiseled muscles making your mouth go dry.

“When you left yesterday,” he clarifies, pulling your gaze away from his thighs. “I told you to text me when you got home safe.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, oh.” 

You're taken aback by irritation in his tone - and slightly offended. Who was he to be annoyed with you? 

“Well, I was really tired, so…” you trail off, eyes falling back to your laptop screen. You hope he takes it as an end to the conversation, and luckily, he does. 

You feel bad for being short with him, but JT and Ashley’s teasing from the night before - and, let’s face it, from months before - was getting to you. You can't help but watch Mikko’s back as he retreats, heading back to the front of the plane where he usually sat. 

You see him slump in his seat, blonde curls barely visible over the backrest, and a pang of guilt shoots through you. It’s gone the moment you catch JT’s eye, flipping him off as he grins knowingly, before shaking your head and focusing on your work. 

You didn't have time to lust over Mikko. Not when you had the job that needed your complete focus. 

The flight is short, and you arrive in Edmonton faster than you thought you would. You try to ignore Mikko’s burning stare as the players and staff exit the plane, trying your best to tune into the animated story Josty was telling JT. 

You breathe a sigh of relief once you close the door to your hotel room, finally relaxing for the first time all day. The game wasn't until tomorrow, so you knew you had time to do what you wanted - which was absolutely nothing. 

And nothing you did, lounging around in your room watching Netflix and declining an offer from JT to go out with, well, everyone. It didn't help that you knew Mikko and Mark’s room was directly next to yours, but as you heard the chaos of a group of 30 grown men, and then some, heading out for the night, you relaxed a little more. 

An idea pops into your head when the noise finally fades, your hands slipping further down your body to rest above your shorts. You were tense, and needed release - desperately. You give in to yourself, slipping your fingers under your shorts and panties, gasping as your fingers slide through your folds. You're already wet, sensitive from not having been able to cum in weeks. 

A soft whimper escapes your lips as your fingertips find your clit, rubbing gently to work yourself up. You can't help the noises that escape your mouth, trying to keep yourself quiet, but easing up when you remembered that everyone had gone out. 

Your breath quickens as you rub tight, fast circles on your cunt, your back arching. Your other hand finds your breast through your thin t-shirt, pulling and pinching at your nipple. The added sensation makes you moan loudly into the empty room. 

Your hand moves faster and faster in your panties as you pinch your nipple roughly, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth to keep yourself quiet - just in case. 

You're so so close, you can feel it. Your orgasm is right there, and it feels endless as you chase it. You move the hand that's playing with your breasts down to slip under your panties, sinking two fingers into your pussy. Your back arches even more at the feeling, whines escaping you now even with your lip between your teeth. You just - you need something to push you over the edge into you euphoria but - 

“Fuck!” you sob, your body collapsing back onto your bed as your hands cease their movements. You draw your hands out of your shorts, repeating “Fuck”, before resigning to the fact that you just can't cum. Tears slip down your cheeks as you attempt to catch your breath. It ached, how bad you needed to cum but you just couldn't. So you give up on, trying to find anything else to focus on. Only hours later did you find yourself falling into a restless sleep. 

- 

The knock on your door makes you jump, the sound echoing in your empty apartment. You frown as you think Who the fuck is here this late? You'd only just gotten home and settled from your trip to Edmonton, finally relaxing on your couch with Netlix already pulled up and ready to browse through. You're so caught up in wondering who could be at your door that another three heavy knocks sound at the door. 

 Impatient much? you think bitterly as you make your way to the door. 

You nearly slam it shut again when you see who's on the other side. 

“Mikko,” you say, a questioning tone to your voice. “What are you-” 

“I heard you.” His words are abrupt, cutting your sentence off. You frown, not understanding what he means. You step aside to let him come in, and he doesn't hesitate before sweeping into your apartment, slipping his shoes off and taking a seat at your couch. 

You raise your eyebrows at Mikko’s boldness as you come to stand in front of him, about to ask him to clarify what exactly it was he heard, before he answers the question for you. 

“Last night. In Edmonton.” 

Your blood runs cold, but his voice lowers, thick with intention. 

“I could hear you, when you couldn't cum.” 

“I - I -” you stutter for a moment, “I thought everyone went out last night.” 

It's not a denial of what Mikko said, and he knows it. 

“I stayed behind,” he says simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His eyes are dark, and you can't bring yourself to look away, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

“I…” You flush under his gaze, somehow both absolutely mortified by him hearing you, and curious to see what he would say. “And you're telling me this because…?” 

Mikko is silent for a few moments, mulling over his words. “Let me help you,” he finally says, his voice low and husky. “Let me help you cum.” 

You can't help the way you gasp, the desperation from the night before flaring up again. 

“Mikko I don't-” 

“Think it's a good idea?” he finishes, his hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer. “I don't care. I want...I want you. I want this. I want to help you.” 

“Mikko…” 

You sound uncertain but he knows you've already made up your mind. You let out a yelp as he tugs you roughly into his lap, smashing his lips into yours. A moan escapes you immediately, god he was incredible. Mikko is big, he's so big that one of his arms wraps itself almost completely around your waist, the other coming up to cup your face, nearly covering half of it. You feel small in his lap, and you love it. 

His tongue darts in and out of your mouth, coaxing small noise from you as you grip his shoulders. It was better than you could have ever imagined, the way he bites your bottom lip and tugs back on it with a smile. You whine again as his giant hand falls to your ass, flexing over the flesh and squeezing. 

He pushes against your ass, guiding you to rock against him. You tear your lips away from him, head falling to his shoulder at the friction. Your brain is fried, unable to think of anything but the behemoth of a man in front of you. 

“God he's so painfully my type” you remember telling your friend when you first moved to Denver. You didn't tell her why. You didn't tell her it was because of his size. You didn't tell her it was because he was over a foot taller than you. And you definitely didn't tell her it was because you wanted him to use that size to his advantage with you. 

And use it he did, moving your body the way he wants against him as you whimper pathetically. Mikko maneuvers you so that you're seated on one of his massive thighs, your leggings doing next to nothing to provide a barrier between your cunt and his thigh. 

“Please,” you find yourself whining before you can stop yourself. The pressure of his leg against your clit makes you giddy, unable to think of anything but more more more. Mikko’s hand on your ass guides you, rocking your hips against him as the other caresses your hair. 

“That's it,” he spurs you on, accent thickening as he moves you, “Just like that, good girl. Feels good doesn't it?” 

You whimper again and nod against his neck, moving your hips even as he guides you. The friction feels delicious against your cunt, and you can already feel your orgasm building up. Mikko murmurs soft words of encouragement as you rut against him, the tent in his sweatpants growing tighter as more noises escape your throat. 

Logically, you knew Mikko’s size would likely match the size of his cock but - nothing could have prepared you for what you felt against your thigh as you rocked harder into him. His cock was straining against his sweats, thick and heavy as you pushed against him. 

Mikko’s hand disappears from your ass for a moment, before coming down again with a rough smack. You jolt at the sting and cry out as it only brings you closer to the edge. Your hand curls around his neck, your face smushed into his shoulder with his other hand cradling the back of your head. 

“Please, Mikko, please!” you sob into his t-shirt, so fucking close to release. You were desperate, strings of curses and his name and “pleasepleaseplease” the only words leaving your mouth. He coos gently at your desperation, bouncing his leg slightly to give you more friction. 

“I've got you, rakas,” (beloved) he murmurs lowly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “You're close aren't you?” 

“Mhm.” Your voice comes out whiny, but you could really care less, too caught up in chasing your orgasm to care how you sounded. “Mik - Mikko, please, please.” 

“That’s it,” he repeats, the hand that was cradling your head disappearing, only to come down on your ass sharply. A sob is ripped from your throat as you wind your hand into his hair and pull. “Come on, there you go, are you going to cum for me?” 

“Yes yes yesyesyes,” you babble, frantic as you seek your high. 

“Cum for me, rakas,” Mikko growls. “I want you to cum for me.”

The filthy, commanding tone he uses is enough to send you over the edge, throwing you into white-hot ecstasy as you finally - finally - achieve the release you've been craving. You're faintly aware of the scream you let out, and the tears slipping down your cheeks, but you're too focused on the pleasure you're feeling to be embarrassed - or even care, for that matter. 

Mikko holds you tight to his body as you begin to regain consciousness, rocking you slower and slower against his thigh until he stops, tugging you so that you straddle his lap instead. You're hyper aware of his cock pressing against your thigh, achingly hard. 

“You did so well,” he purrs, peppering your neck with soft, wet kisses. “You did so fucking good, you're so beautiful when you cum for me.” You whine at the words, finally finding the strength to lift your heavy head from his shoulder. 

“Sorry I ruined your shirt,” you snivel, gasping out a sob when another tremor wracks your body. Mikko pulls you back into his chest, chuckling softly. 

“That's alright, suloinen asia. (sweet thing) You did so good for me.” 

Mikko strokes your hair softly as your sobs slow to a stop, holding you tightly to him to build you back up where he shattered you. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as his fingers caress you, the heat radiating from him lulling you into a daze. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly, curling your hand around the back of his head. You pull back softly to look at him, and you can't help but revel in what you see. Mikko’s cheeks are pink, his lips swollen and bruised, and his eyes are blown wide with lust. He stares up at you in admiration, smiling almost shyly at your gratitude. 

“Y/N I - fuuuck,” Mikko’s words are cut off when you rock your hips against his aching cock, his hands flying to your waist. “What are you - oh - Y/N - shit -” 

“Please?” you mewl softly, pouting softly at his reprimanding stare. 

“Stop that,” he groans, his head tilting back slightly in pleasure. Whether he's talking about your pout or the way you were grinding on him - who knows. 

“Please?” you repeat, smiling triumphantly when his hands on your waist push you a little harder against his dick. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, “Yeah, yeah, okay, one condition.” 

“Mhm,” you hum, too distracted with roaming your eyes over Mikko’s chest and arms to pay attention. 

“Hey.” Mikko grabs your face between two fingers, squishing your cheeks together as he forces you to look at him. You stop breathing for a moment, his grip on your face unrelenting as you wait for him to tell you his condition. “My condition,” he says, “is that I want more than just this. Let me take you on a date. And no more swiping right on any other big guys on dating apps.” 

His words catch you by surprise, and you laugh loudly. Mikko lets go of your face when you do, watching you throw your head back joyfully. He's confused for a moment, but accepts your kiss, smiling against your mouth as you giggle against his. 

“Is that a yes?” he murmurs between kisses. 

“It's a hell yes,” you smile brightly, leaning into to steal another. 

“Great, now can I fuck you over the back of this couch and make you cum again or what?”

[heybeybey]

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Summary: Forced to retire from the Scouts due to a major injury, Levi thinks he'll be spending the rest of his days in domestic solitude. Petra, however, has another idea.

Loosely based on The Way of the Househusband.

Or: Captain Petra x Househusband Levi canonverse AU

AO3 Link

A/N: Okay I've had this outlined for WEEKS (no ending in mind tho) but I never got around to actually drafting it. But....... I had some time this morning and the inspiration after seeing this post so yay.

Thanks to @sleeperswakewriting for introducing me to The Way of the Househusband. It's cute and funny and DEFINITELY RIVETRA in another universe.

This is going be a drabble series btw but no assurance on when I'll be updating each chapter (My Royalty AU draft is glaring at this fic rn tbh). Some chapters will be based on the Netflix show but Levi's condition is a bit different from Tatsu's so it'll probably be loosely based at best.

And yes, the title is from the song My Girl. But I like this version since I think it fits Petra the most :3

Also also, we all know deep down that Levi wants to be a househusband so here you go.

- - -

Chapter 1: The Ceremonies

There was a time when his mind wandered to how his career in the Scouts would end. Levi always thought he'd die on the battlefield, just as he witnessed among his comrades. He'd accepted that reality, sometimes even waiting for it despite his will to continue fighting on.

For some reason, retiring has never crossed his mind.

"Honorably discharged due to major leg injury, incomplete spinal cord injury, and loss of right eyesight."

He can still hear the pity and sadness from Erwin's voice from that day in the hospital when they talked over where he will go from there. The doctors mentioned that his spine will heal over time, but his leg is broken way beyond repair. It's worse enough that amputation was considered at one point. He'd be good as titan food should he retain his current position in the scouts.

At first, he wanted to scream. He wasn't the type to show some outwardly emotion (except for when he's beating down new recruits or the three males in his squad) but being a part of the Survey Corps is what gave this shit of a life some meaning after he was pulled out of the underground.

Frankly, he didn't know what's next.

"Hey, Captain." Petra's sweet voice snapped Levi out of his thoughts and he forces himself to get out of his bad mood. This was her day and he'd be damned if he ruins it for her.

Levi takes her in and the corner of his lip quirks up. He feels pride fill his chest as his eyes strays a bit on the insignia freshly pinned on her uniform.

"I think I should be the one calling you that, Ral." He replies. "Congratulations."

Wheelchair-bound for what may be the rest of his life, Levi and his squad had to sit down and talk over what's next for the Scout's elites. The obvious choice was Eld, but Levi and the rest of the team were surprised when the blonde man turned down the promotion. He says that while he had the leadership skills and the years of experience that makes him more than qualified, he knew that he didn't have the same burning dedication to the cause as much as he'd witnessed in others.

Eld said that he'd be glad to support the next team captain instead. Oluo, while skilled, had often been too focused on his kill count. Gunther has a strategic mind but didn't really have the charm to bring people together.

So they all turned their attention to Petra.

To be honest, Levi had always wanted to promote Petra as his second-in-command. However, Scout regulations demanded a certain number of years that she didn't have yet at the time he first chose his elite squad. He'd never had a problem with Eld, but his and Petra's ability to synchronise on the battlefield is the reason why he'd always turned to her when he needed a second hand.

It makes sense in his eyes and to the rest of the team, even when Erwin and the other soldiers were doubtful of his choice. They've seen how ferocious Petra is during expeditions, but still had the heart to cry alongside her dying comrades. She's kind and helpful, but knows when a hard decision is needed to be made. She'd pitched in her ideas and opinions every time she accidentally passed by the officers' meeting sessions (she always brought them tea so she sometimes hear the conversations). This was often met with a surprised look from her higher-ups but having worked with Petra for quite some time, Levi would just smirk at his fellow veterans.

She's still rough around the edges and she definitely still has more room to improve, but the potential is there. He wouldn't have chosen her as part of his team in the first place if he didn't see that fire.

He wasn't surprised that Eld, Gunther and Oluo supported her, even when Petra was terrified to accept such a responsibility. Levi was firm in his decision.

In the end, Erwin stamped on his approval.

Levi was the one who pinned the insignia on her signifying her new position during today's pinning-on ceremony.

- - -

"Hey, Captain!"

"I think you should stop calling me that, Petra."

"Sorry. Habit." The ginger blushes slightly as she steps closer inside the apartment, basket in hand. "I bought something for you."

She brings out a few fruits from the basket, laying it down on the dining table in his humble apartment. "The farmer's market was on sale today and I had the chance to pass by before they closed."

"You didn't have to buy me all these, Petra."

"I had to use my pay raise for something, Captain," she jests. He wheels himself towards her to assist her with unloading the basket and they both work in silent contentment.

"So, how's your first day?" Levi asks after washing the fruits. Petra's face lights up at his question and the whole room seems to come alive as she chatters on.

"Holy Maria, Captain. I didn't know the team can be this stupid. No wonder you had dark eyebags after training us for years!"

- - -

It's been three months since he resigned from the Scouts. The new captain never fails to come home to the apartment he's renting near the Scout HQ everyday.

Come home? Tch. How delusional can you get.

He'd welcome her back every expedition and every training day. A part of him feels a bit of guilt gnaw on him when he sees how tired Petra is whenever she comes home, thinking of the time when he was her direct commanding officer.

"Captain, can I sleep here tonight?"

Now, he sees the sorrow and fatigue in her eyes. "You're always welcome here, Petra."

He offers to give up his bed for the night but she declines, saying that she'll be fine on the couch. She's unnaturally quiet, but he knows that this is how she typically is after expeditions.

They're both on the couch right now and she snuggles closer to him. Levi motions for her to lay her head on his lap, their boundaries thinning with every single visit.

He's quiet when he sees the tears start to fall from her eyes. Soon, Petra's sobbing and she wraps her arms desperately around him. His hand starts to slowly run through her ginger locks, hoping it gives her some comfort.

"She was the last in my and Oluo's batch." She starts, voice shaking and he gives her space to talk and mourn her comrade. "I wanted to save her... but it was either her or compromise the mission. I had to give the order."

"I'm sorry." Because if someone understands her better, it's him.

- - -

"Levi?"

It's the scout's day off today and they're all allowed to leave the vicinity to visit friends and family, or simply just to fuck around if they wanted.

Petra, not surprisingly, decides to spend another weekend with him.

"Hmm?" He's currently preparing their lunch, wheeling himself around the kitchen area.

"Did you ever think about settling down when you were still in the scouts?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her question. "And leave a widow crying on my grave? I didn't even have the time to date, Petra."

And he didn't even want to date someone else. Not when he kept having wet dreams about his own subordinate at that time.

"Well, you have a chance now, right?" Petra starts to help with laying down the dishes on the table. He looks at her, eyes taking in her body language. She's doing that thing with her hands again where she tries to occupy it with things to do whenever she's nervous. She's too tense for this to be some absent chatter.

"Just spit it out, Petra."

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm always here. In this apartment. Whether I'm back from training or meetings or expeditions," she starts. Levi wheels himself forward to grab their food from the small kitchen but he attentively listens to each of her words. Seeing that he won't be replying, Petra decides to continue.

"I like coming home to you, Levi. And I'm still devoted to you." Petra nervously says, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. Levi feels his heart thump at her last sentence. He stops what he's doing and looks straight into her amber eyes, the same moment as she reaches out to delicately hold both of his hands. "I'd like to continue doing so... if you'll have me in another way."

Bold as ever is the first thing that fondly came to his mind. He feels emotion start to climb up his throat but he never wavers in staring back at her. The next thing that came to mind wasn't exactly a thought, and the answer leaves his mouth with a certainty he didn't know he had.

"Okay," he quietly replies. Not much of a talker, as usual. Still, his sure answer was quite a surprise to the both of them.

Was it loneliness? That fear that he'd most likely die alone because of his automatic ability to push people away? Maybe it's some deep hidden desire to live a domestic life with someone—something that he allowed himself to fleetingly dream of while he was still in that underground hellhole—that he has since accepted wouldn't be in his future.

Until now.

He and Petra decided to have a shotgun wedding that same afternoon.

[triplexdoublex]

12:05

Pairing: Colson x Reader

Warnings/tags: smut, cheating, drug use, mentions of foot-fetish, mild blood (nose bleed)

Welcome to my first Colson Baker (MGK) fic. I used a lot of lyrics and lyric references in this. My goal was to make it seem like this toxic relationship and coversations between his and reader are what inspired a lot of his songs.

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

“C’mon get up,” your best friend Shawnie nudges you, pulling back the sheets of her bed she’s been kind enough to share with you since the breakup. “It’s almost noon,” 

“Grmmphf,” you groan tugging the sheet back over your head.

“I’m not gonna let you stay in bed all day again, crying over ‘Machine Gun Kelly’,” she says as she raises the shades on the window; the midday sun bright rays beaming through the thin sheet over your head. “It’s been three weeks now, get up. We’re gonna have a girls day.”

“He has a real name, you know,” you mumble from under the sheet. “Colson”

“Oh yes, Colson the compulsive cheater, how could I forget?” She rips back the sheet a final time.”How was he dumb enough to get caught this time?” She emphasizes, knowing it's not the first time you’ve caught him cheating. “Lipstick on his shirt? Hickey?” She taps the bed, “I mean it! Up! I'm taking you out.”

“Ughhh fine,” you prop yourself up. “Nudes on his phone actually. Found them his first night back from tour.” You swing your legs over the edge of the bed with a sigh. “ Do you know that dumbass really tried to convince me they were mine, like I dunno what my own pussy looks like!” You let out a half- amused chuckle.

“Wow, that’s pathetic even for him,” Shawnie rolls her eyes. “I don’t understand why you keep going back to him?”

“I dunno — it’s just..” you rake your hands over your face and into your hair. “I can’t explain it --it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Shawnie responds, taking a seat next to you on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, I’m listening. I just wanna help you get over him. I hate seeing you hurt all the time.”

“I feel like I’m addicted to him, like he’s my drug or something,” you admit.

“Except what fun is a drug if you can’t even get high off it and only experience the comedown?” She retorts.

“See that’s just the thing — you don’t know him like I do — there is a high,” you smile as fond memories flood back. “When it’s just me and him, when he’s just ‘Colson’, he makes me feel like I’m on top of the world. He treats me like a princess, he makes me laugh, he makes me feel good about myself, and OH MY GOD the sexxxx!” You whine, “You know I always talk about how good it is,” you laugh. “For real our sexual chemistry is just something I never thought I’d experience with anyone. He makes me feel so comfortable and open and unashamed of the things I’m into, and he shares a lot of the same desires. Everything with him is perfect... until tour starts up again”

“I can understand why all that’s important to you, but what about being faithful? Isn’t that important to you too?” Shawnie questions.

“Of course it is, that’s why I keep breaking up with him! And at first I hate him, I really do. I swear to myself I’ll never even talk to him again, but as the hurt wears away, I start craving him again,” A tear rolls down your cheek. “And then I start questioning myself like was I too hard on him? What do I expect from someone who’s living that rockstar lifestyle, getting high and drunk every night with gorgeous women just throwing themselves at him, ya know?”

“No, that is not your fault, you cannot be held responsible for him giving into temptations on the  road!” Shawnie exclaims in a motherly tone. “If he truly wanted to be faithful to you he would.”

“In Colson’s words he ‘fucks up when he’s fucked up’.” you defend him.

“Well maybe he shouldn’t get fucked up if he can’t keep his dick in his pants!” She expresses loudly.”Don’t make excuses for him... Now come on I’m taking you out today; my treat.” 

“Shawnie, really you don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine”

“Too late I already booked us appointments at the spa, and —” her voice then  shifts to a fast whisper “I may have set up a blind date for you with one of Gabe’s friends Kyle for later on tonight!” She finishes with a cheesy grin.

“Shawnie!!!” You gasp.

“Relax, I’ll be there with Gabe too. It’ll be a double date. We’re meeting at Club Hell at eleven. Now get up and get ready before we're late to our appointment.” 

‘Hell… how fitting. That’s exactly what this nights gonna be,’ you think to yourself. You’ve seen Shawnie’s boyfriends friends before and they’re not exactly your type.They’re  

just a bunch of preppy frat boys who’s penny loafers and crisp button down shirts scream ‘trust fund baby’ and ‘my dads a lawyer’.

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

In the passenger seat on the way home from the spa  you look down at your bright pink toes and can’t help but frown.

“What’s the matter?” Shawnie asks, nudging you with her elbow as she drives. “Do you not like the color?”

“No, no. It’s not that. I love the color, and thank you so much for taking me to get them done, it’s just that Colson always used to take me — the man’s a sucker for a fresh pedicure,” you answer smirking to yourself as you recall his peculiar kink.

“That is more than I needed  to know,” Shawnie’s eyes go wide while keeping them fixed on the road.

“Oh please like you don’t know every detail of our sex life already,” you say tapping her leg playfully.

“But feet is where I draw the line!” She exclaims, pointing a finger.

You let out a chuckle,“Well then I guess I shouldn’t tell you about the time he —”

“Blahhh blah blaaaa I can’t hear you!” Shawnie attempts to cover her ear closest to you with her shoulder, keeping her hands on the wheel, making you bust out laughing. “There’s that smile I miss, I knew it was still in there somewhere,” she smiles back at you. “ Seriously, fuck Colson and FUCK feet!” She laughs.

“I thought you didn’t wanna hear about that time,” you tease.

“What is wrong with you!!!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you clutch your stomach in laughter, “I couldn’t pass up that opportunity, you set yourself up for that.” 

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

Unfortunately Kyle is pretty much exactly what you were expecting and not at all your type but after a few rounds of drinks you decide to make the best of the night and invite Kyle out onto the  floor to dance  — Shawnie and Gabe to follow, the four of you forming a small circle. Not even five minutes into dancing you spot Colson entering the club with a tall brunette.

You grab Shawnie’s arm. “Look!” you say into her ear trying to be discreet about it.

“Oh my God, of all nights,” She rolls her eyes, “Is that the girl?”

“I dunno I didn’t exactly see her face, remember?”

“Is everything okay?” Kyle interjects, looking confused.

“It’s nothing, just someone I used to know,” you answer, returning to dancing as Colson and the brunette disappeared into the crowd. You were determined to have a good night, if not for yourself than at least for Shawnie. She was trying her best to help you get over Colson and have a good time. 

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

“Wow, they really pack this place huh?” You yell over the music as the floor starts to get crowded. And as if you spoke too soon one of your elbows collides into someone behind you. Immediately you spin around to apologize. “Oh shit, I’m sorr — Colson!”

“Ah fuck man, why are you here?” Colson rolls his eyes, realizing it’s you.

“I could ask the same thing! I’m tryna have a good night and you gotta show up running shit.”

“Who’s this?” Colson’s date looks up at him annoyed before speaking to you, “Why you talking to my man?”

You throw your head back in laughter. “You’re man? Ha! You’ve got a lot to learn honey. Colson likes to run around. Colson’s everyone’s man! 

“Nah, c’mom,chill, chill,” Colson blocks his date with his arm as she tries to step to you. 

Shawnie reaches for you, pulling you back towards her by your shirt. “Let’s all be adults about this.”

“Fine!” you twist from her grasp. “Just stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you!” You shout at Colson before marching over to the bar. You need another drink. Your friends follow behind and Kyle sits awkwardly in the bar stool next to you. “Sorry about that, that was my ex, wasn’t exactly planning on seeing him here tonight.”

“No worries, seems like a total douche anyways.” Kyle responds.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answer in a daze staring into the crowded dance floor where you find Colson’s sky blue eyes locked on you from across the room. He watches you over the shoulder of his date, her back turned towards you.

“Can I buy you a shot?” Kyle offers.

“Uhh, yeah sure,” you answer, not paying attention, your eyes still focused on Colson.

Kyle pays for the shot, tips the bartender and hands you your shot. You don't even look to see what it is before throwing it back in one gulp. “Come on let’s go dance,” you slam the empty shot glass and  grab Kyle’s hand pulling him onto the dance floor, positioning his back to Colson. You don’t know what kind of game Colson is playing, but you can play it too — your eyes still locked across the room.

When the song changes — Closer by Nine Inch Nails now playing through the club speakers — Colson takes his game to the next level, grinding with “his girl” without breaking eye contact with you. You can’t decide if he’s trying to make you jealous or make you want him. And you can’t decide for what reason you keep playing along but it’s not long before you find yourself rolling your body against your date, your stare letting Colson know two can play this game.

“Damn, girl!” Kyle exclaims, shocked by your sudden shift in demeanour, his hands making their way to your ass, making you cringe internally at his touch. But you keep up the facade letting him push and pull your bodies together on the dance floor as Colson’s glare intensifies. 

‘I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you on the inside…’  The chorus starts and you know things are about to get turnt up. Colson’s head dips down, his eyes still glued to yours as he sensually licks a stripe up his date's neck. Quickly, you spin Kyle around leaning into him as you grind your backside against the zipper of his denim. You reach behind your head with one hand, lacing your fingers in the back of Kyle’s hair and pull his face into your craned neck, simultaneously inviting him to taste you and shielding his view of you and Colson’s fervid eye fucking. You feel guilty feeling Kyle grow hard against you, knowing allowing his sloppy mouthing of your neck is definitely leading him on.

“Five.” Colson mouths to you, holding up the same amount of fingers behind his dates back, then motioning with his head to the bathrooms. You check your watch, it’s 12:00 exactly.

Five  minutes pass and you see Colson excuse himself to the bathroom. Immediately you push you date away frantically, making up a lie about feeling light headed and needing to go get some water at the bar, but head straight to the bathrooms. Inside the one person bathroom you find Colson doing a key bump of coke by the sink.

“What do you want?” You ask, annoyed.

“Ain’t that the tight little black dress from the first night we were together?” he asks, sniffing and wiping at his nose, as he locks the door behind you.

“Is that what you brought me in here for, to ask if this was the dress from our first date? You roll your eyes hopping up to sit on the edge of the sink counter, your fresh pedicured feet with open toed shoes dangling down in front of you. 

“MMMmmm you get them done just for me, baby?”

“Fuck off Colson, I didn’t even know you were gonna be here tonight, otherwise I wouldn’t have come,” you quip, folding your arms across your chest in annoyance. “Are you done wasting my time, I’d like to get back to my date.”

“Bullshit!” Colson calls you out. “ Little lawyer boy out there ain’t even your type, I know it and you know it. Your girl set you up on a blind date didn’t she?” He says cocikly. He knows you too well.

“You don’t know shit, Colson,” you lie, jumping down from the counter and heading towards the door to leave.

“Pretty impressive performance out there though, I gotta give it to you — .” Colson steps forward his body between you and the door, backing you back up against the counter. “-- letting him lick and touch all over you —-” he lowers his head, his whiskey-infused breath cascading over your neck and chest and he continues to speak. “-- knowing dayummm well you wish it were me.”

“You need to let me go, Colson. We’re over! You cheated … AGAIN!” You remind him, and apparently yourself, your head involuntarily cocking to the side, opening up your neck to him, your body half ready to give into temptation despite your anger with him.

“I’ll admit I took advantage of you every night that I was on the road,” he speaks in an apologetic tone. But don’t think for a minute i’ma let you convince me that what we started is finished, or for a second that I wouldn't take a bullet to the head for you!” He presses a single knuckle to your temple, his blue eyes piercing though your soul “You know we both want this. I know we’ve had some hard times but you said that even if it took forever that you and me would be together.”

 “You’re insane” tumbles from you lips in a last ditch effort to keep up your guard even though the breathy way it escape your mouth sounds a lot more like “fuck me.”

“Ok, yeah, I’m insane… but you the same!” He says, aggressively pointing at you and pressing his forehead to yours, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

You bite your lip; your guard, your walls, and common sense crumbling down around you. “We’re insane — both of us,” you laugh ,a single tear sliding from your eye. “I guess that’s just the way it goes.” You punctuate your words against Colson’s eager lips with a kiss.

There’s no turning back now, your fingers hurriedly undoing the buttons on the placket of his pink devil shirt as his hungry mouth devours kiss after kiss until you can barely breathe, his hands cupping your face so tight. He tastes of weed and whiskey, but you welcome the nostalgic flavor on your tongue. You slide his now open shirt off his shoulders, and let your hands trail down his tattooed torso. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he growls breaking the kiss, quickly lifting you back onto the counter, and letting his shirt fall to the floor. Nestling his face into your neck and hair, he breathes you in as if his memory is bottling up your scent for later.

“Colson,” you whine needily. Desperate to feel the heat of his mouth connect with your flesh, you rake a hand through his tousled bleach blonde locks, pushing down on his head until you feel his wet tongue begin to lap at your clavicle. You lean back against the mirror in pleasure as his tongue writes a sonnet across your neck and chest. He spreads your legs with his knee, your tight black dress inching up your thighs the wider your legs go. His hand slides up the expanse of your inner thighs to your core. Hastily, he pushes your panties to the side, the tips of his pretty painted fingers toying with your clit. The faster he rubs the faster and more sporadic your movements and breathing become, your body begging to be fucked. “Uhhh, Fuck me!” Your words echo your body’s pleas.

“Mmmmhh, he lets out a throaty rumble. “Thought you’d never ask,” he smirks, reaching for the delicate waistband of your black lace panties. He quickly pulls them down, struggling when they get snagged on the stiletto heel of one of your shoes. “Fuck it,” he laughs leaving them stuck in exchange for undoing his cherry red belt. With his belt undone he upzips his dark denim jeans pulling them and his ethika boxers down in one motion, springing himself free.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs he yanks you towards him, your ass teetering on the edge of the counter. With a hand behind each knee he shoves your legs back, bending you into one of his favorite positions; folded in half, legs up by your head. He loves how deep he can get like this. 

Still holding your legs back, he bends down, lowering his face to your core, tasting you. 

“Uhhhhh, Fuck, Cols,” you whine with eyes squeezed shut, griping his hair as he moves his tongue in a wide stripe from the bottom up, pausing to focus his attention on the sensitive bud at the top. 

“Ummghmm,” he hums against you before lifting his head. “No time for this right now” he says with glossed lips “but God, I had to taste you again.”

He removes one of his hands from your legs and grabs himself, bringing the tip to your entrance. Quickly, he slides it back and forth through your wetness before pushing in, a low gravely moan falling from his lips as he bottoms out. 

“Shit… Fuck...Oh my God!,” You slap a hand over your mouth.

“Nah, ain’t nobody gonna hear you over the music out there, baby” he says brushing your hand away from your mouth and replacing it with his lips, as he thrusts.

You moan into his mouth and he moves his lips lower, kissing down your neck, so he can hear your pleas of “Harder”. He obliges driving his hips forward with more force, and quickens his pace, the back of your head banging  against the mirror so hard, you swear the both of you are about to have seven years of bad luck. But you don’t care, the slight curve to his perfect cock ramming repeatedly into your g-spot. 

“Feels so good , uhhh right there. Yes!”  You scream out.

“Mmm, yeah you gonna cum for me baby?” 

“Ssso close.” You know you're practically guaranteed to cum before Colson; the man could go all night, often making you cum two or three times before he’s done. But you don’t have that kind of time tonight in this tiny club bathroom with both your dates nearby. A few more hard thrusts and your orgasm begins to  peak in your abdomen, the feeling as surreal as the Dali tatt on his back your fingernails are raking down. “I — I’m Cumming! 

He keeps up his pace, chasing after his own release, groaning with each clench of your walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure.

Still not there yet, he quickly pulls out, grabs you up by your hair, and shoves his cock into your mouth.You can taste yourself as he rams his cock in and out of your mouth. “Yeah, love watching you getting your throat destroyed’” he grits between his teeth, watching in the mirror as he face fucks you. “Uhhgh, gonna —” he exhales heavily, filling your mouth as he holds your head in place. After the last drop is out he pulls you off him with a ‘pop’.

The silence is awkward as you both get dressed, nothing but heavy breathing in the air. “Ah, shit,” Colson breaks the silence, a slow trickle of blood coming from his nose.

“Sit, sit. I’ll get it,” you insist, hurriedly grabbing some toilet paper from the stall, as Colson takes a seat on the counter. You dab at the dripping blood and pinch his nose shut. “Here hold this, like this,” you say, guiding his hand to his nose. “You really gotta stop doing coke, ya know.” you say in a caring tone as you finish buttoning up his shit for him.

He gives you a  simple “thanks” with a genuine appreciative smile. “Guess we would get back out there,” he gets off the counter giving his nose a final wipe.

“Yeah, Shawnie’s gonna kill me when she finds out.”

“Shhh,” he shushes your lips with his finger. “The homies don’t gotta know.”

[gretavanfanfic]

Noisy Neighbor

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x (F) Reader

Warnings: Smut! 18+ only

Word Count: 5000ish

Summary: The walls in your apartment are a bit thin and Neighbor!Josh likes to make noise.

You can’t deny that you have a bit of a crush on your neighbor, Josh. From the day he moved into the apartment next to yours, you were immediately attracted to his looks. And then, a few weeks later, he introduced himself to you in the hallway and you found out that he’s actually the sweetest person in the world. Your attraction intensified tenfold. Now, every time you enter or leave your apartment, you can’t stop yourself from hoping that you’ll run into him in the halls.

Though you’ve only spoken to Josh on a handful of occasions, you feel as though you know him on an intimate level due to the paper thin walls of your home. You’ve concluded that your living rooms must share a wall, because you can hear absolutely everything Josh does in the main room of your suite. You weren’t surprised when you discovered this though, considering the low price you pay for rent each month. What did surprise you was that you found it didn’t annoy you in the slightest. Josh makes quite a bit of noise, but honestly, you very much enjoy the chaos that regularly flows out of his apartment. 

You hate to admit it, because you know it’s creepy, but sometimes you intentionally eavesdrop on the goings-on in Josh’s apartment. A lot of the time, it’s more entertaining than anything you could watch on TV. Josh has 3 friends (or maybe brothers, they look like they may be related) that visit so often, you frequently wonder why they all didn’t just move in together. When they’re over, the shouting and laughter is constant, and you get a major kick out of listening to their stories and antics. And then there’s Josh’s singing. Whenever he’s home alone, you can hear his angelic voice belting out song after song, some that you recognize and others that you don’t. His voice is so gorgeous, you’re sure he could sing the phone book and make it sound amazing. Why would you listen to music on your speakers when you have a front row seat to Josh’s beautiful live performances? You feel a bit guilty for your snooping, but you figure it’s harmless. If Josh didn’t want anyone to hear him, he’d quiet down.

This particular evening, though, your eavesdropping doesn’t seem quite as harmless as usual. You’re not deliberately spying on Josh. At first. You’re just settling in for a night of Chinese takeout and Netflix when a noise through the wall catches your attention. A...sexy noise. It isn’t loud, definitely more quiet than most of the sounds coming from Josh’s unit, but you hear it nonetheless. Curious, you turn the volume on the TV down and lean closer to the wall behind your couch, waiting to hear if it happens again.

A few moments later and there it is once more, an unmistakable moan. Just that small sound makes your entire body feel hot, and you press your ear even closer to the wall. Is he doing what I think he’s doing? You can’t hear anything else that would give you any more hints, but why else would he be letting out little moans here and there? The image of Josh touching himself causes wetness to build between your thighs. 

Then you’re struck by another thought, one that lessens your desire slightly. What if he’s with someone? If you’re being honest with yourself, you would probably be devastated if that was the case. Though you wouldn’t even really consider Josh a friend, you’ve held out on the hope that maybe something would happen between the two of you someday. You never thought that he may have a girlfriend, or even about him sleeping with other girls.

You begin to feel dejected, until you realize that you’re getting ahead of yourself. You’ve been home for hours, and not once did you hear Josh’s front door open or close. You also hadn’t heard him talk to anyone during the day. He had been singing for a bit earlier, and his TV was on briefly, but that was it. If a girl had been there, you’re sure you would have heard her at some point. And so, you allow yourself to believe that Josh is in his apartment alone, scratching his own itch.

Another low groan sounds a few moments later, and you squirm in your seat, getting wetter and wetter by the second. Invested now, you mute the TV altogether so you can hear Josh without any background static. Voyeurism is not something you engage in on a regular basis, so you can’t help feeling a little dirty listening in on his “personal time.” But you can’t make yourself turn a blind eye and resume your show on Netflix either. All you can focus on is Josh and the arousal he’s brought on.

Josh’s moans are becoming louder and more frequent now. Some are small grunts, whereas others are drawn out and higher in pitch, almost whiny. You’ve never heard anything hotter in your life, and before long, you’re practically aching for him. You want to see his body, which you’re certain is toned but not overly muscular, and run your fingertips over every inch of his skin. You yearn for him to kiss you, so you can glide your tongue over his luscious lips and feel the vibration of his groans in your mouth. More than anything, you want to fuck him. Feel the pleasant stretch as he thrusts into you over and over, filling you up and satisfying your needs.

Unable to stop yourself, your right hand travels past the waistband of your leggings and into your underwear. Using your middle finger, you gather some of your wetness and drag it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the sensitive nerve. Your eyes fall shut at the feeling it elicits. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve thought of Josh while getting yourself off. He’s been a staple in your fantasies ever since the day he introduced himself. Pretending it’s Josh and not your vibrator working you to orgasm makes the whole process go much more quickly. The toy has seen a significant increase in action since he moved in.

Listening to Josh masturbating on just the other side of the wall has you hot enough that you don’t even need your favorite toy right now. You’ve just barely started stimulating your clit and you’re already ridiculously close to orgasm. You can feel your heartbeat in your ears and a light sweat has broken out across the back of your neck. You’re so wet, you can feel it leaking out of you and into your underwear. Only a few more circles and you know you’ll be cumming harder than you have in a long time.

And then it happens. From the other side of the wall, you hear Josh’s husky voice whine, “Oh fuck, Y/N!” 

Your hand stills in your pants and your jaw drops open in disbelief. Did he just say my name? You had to have heard wrong. Or maybe you were just so horny and caught up in the moment that you imagined it. 

But then, there it is again.

“Y/N! Fuck, oh my god,” followed by a much louder and lower groan. 

This time, there is no mistaking it. Josh Kiszka just moaned your name while he came. 

Your body is absolutely rigid, with the exception of your legs, which are visibly shaking. Being so close to the edge and then abruptly stopping stimulation will do that to you. 

Inhaling deeply, you attempt to center yourself and process what you just heard. Which is impossible; you’re too turned on to even have a chance of thinking rationally. The only thing going on in your mind is: Josh! Josh! Josh!

As badly as you want to just shove your hand back down your pants and finish yourself off right now, Josh’s utterance of your name has brought out a carnal desire in you that you’re positive can only be fulfilled by actual physical contact with him. And you can’t wait for it. You need it now.

So with a stroke of courage like you’ve never experienced before, you quickly get up and wash your hands in the kitchen sink, then march toward your front door and swing it open. Foregoing shoes, you walk swiftly toward the door to Josh’s apartment and rap your knuckles against the dark green wood emblazoned with the number 201.

There’s no response at first, and you’re not really surprised considering you’re calling on him right after he finished jerking himself off. So you knock again, and this time you hear him shout, “Just a second!”

As you stand outside his door, waiting for him to appear, you begin to feel butterflies in your stomach. The worries that should have popped into your head earlier are now showing themselves, and there’s a lot of them. What if he really is with a girl? What if I’m not the Y/N he’s thinking about? Why did I not change before coming over here? Is my hair a mess? Did I even put on deodorant today? What if he’s not interested?

And then the door clicks open and there stands a pink-cheeked Josh, shirtless with a pair of black sweatpants riding low on his slim hips. You can tell you’ve caught him off-guard because his eyes widen significantly when they land on you. Unable to exercise any form of self-control, you allow yourself to examine his bare torso, eyes dancing from his pecs, past his toned abdomen, to the wispy happy trail that disappears under his low-slung pants. On your way up, you ogle his muscular arms. He catches you staring, and you see the blush spread down to his chest, small red patches cropping up as he takes you in.

Clearing his throat, he says, “Y/N! Hi! Sorry, I- uh, I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

“Yeah, that’s my bad. Sorry,” you apologize, bouncing from foot to foot. “Are- are you busy?” 

You figure this is a safe way to start the conversation. Not being too straightforward, but also making it clear that you’re here for a reason and it may take up some of his time.

Josh looks even more surprised and you can hear the shock in his voice when he too loudly exclaims, “No! No, come on in.” He moves backward and opens up the door wider, allowing you to step through the frame. 

The door shuts behind you, and you and Josh stand awkwardly in his entryway for a moment. Taking the opportunity to see how Josh lives, you glance around the living area and note that it looks exactly like you expected it to. With a layout identical to yours, it is messy, but not overly so, and cozy, with personal touches like photos and knick knacks spread throughout the room. Every inch is reminiscent of Josh. Then you catch sight of Josh’s phone, lying upside down on the sofa, like it was thrown down quickly when he got up to answer the door, and a dark green t-shirt crumpled into a ball on the floor.

The shirt reminds you of Josh’s current state of undress, and your eyes flick back to his half-naked frame. His body is more gorgeous than you imagined, and you long to put your hands on him. You feel almost predatory as you gawk at him and lick your lips.

Breaking the silence, Josh asks, “So what can I do for you, neighbor? Need to borrow a cup of sugar?” He grins at you, making eye contact for a moment, then glances away and rubs his palm along the back of his neck. 

You let out a nervous giggle at the cliche and greedily take in the sight of his newly exposed underarm. He’s so pretty, you think to yourself. 

Shaking your head, you answer, “No, um, actually I had a question for you.” 

Before you make your move, you need to be absolutely certain that Josh doesn’t have a girlfriend. You would never forgive yourself for unknowingly moving in on someone else’s significant other.

“Okay,” Josh shrugs his shoulders. “Shoot,” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. 

You know you’re being forward, and you know this could end up being a very uncomfortable situation, but you force yourself to question, “Are you single?”

It’s not what Josh is expecting to hear. His back straightens and his eyebrows shoot up, shock evident. He hastily recovers, however, and begins to nod rapidly. “Yeah, I am. Why do you ask?” Once the words leave his mouth, you watch as he bites his bottom lip, then soothes where he bit with his tongue. The action makes your clit throb with want.

What do you say now? “That’s great, because I want to fuck you?” Definitely not. You scour your brain for a way to casually bring up your attraction to him, beginning to lose the burst of confidence that brought you here in the first place. But then, you look up to Josh’s face to see that his eyes are black, pupils fully dilated despite being in a well-lit room. Really, the only explanation for it that you can think of is desire. And you’re sure if you were to look in a mirror right now, your pupils would be dilated as well.

At last, your hunger for him overtakes your nerves and you state, “You know, the walls here are pretty thin…”

Josh’s eyes practically bulge out of his head and you watch him nervously run a hand through his hair. He doesn’t make eye contact when he finally breathes out, “Oh.”

Feeling bold, you walk a few steps forward so that you’re almost toe to toe with Josh. He audibly sucks in a breath, taken aback by your close proximity. His eyes search your face for an explanation for your closeness, while yours eagerly examine his impeccable features. You allow yourself a moment to study his nicely shaped eyebrows, rich, chocolate eyes, nose that is perfectly sized for his face, plump, pink lips, and his skin, dotted with a small number of acne scars, but glowing nevertheless. You’re dying to reach out and touch him.

Instead, you admit, “I heard you a few minutes ago...it sounded an awful lot like you were moaning my name.”

Looking up at him from under your eyelashes, you see Josh’s cheeks flush bright red. He doesn’t reply right away, just darts his eyes around the room with noticeable tension in his jaw. His hand rises up again to run through his hair, then falls to his chest where he uses his short nails to scratch across the skin there. His palm stays splayed across his chest as he focuses his stare on his feet and confesses, “Listen, I’m sorry. I know it’s weird, but I didn’t realize I was being that loud. I really hope you don’t think I’m some disgusting creep. I just- I find you really attractive and my thoughts just sort of naturally land on you when I’m je- when I’m doing that.”

Truthfully, you were not expecting Josh to readily confirm your suspicions, but you’re definitely pleased that he did not hold back. A thrill runs through your body at his words, and again, you feel a rush of wetness between your legs. Fidgeting back and forth on your feet, you unconsciously rub your thighs together.

You know that Josh witnesses the motion because he openly gawks at you and the hand on his chest abruptly falls to his side. Your eyes follow his arm, and on their way down, you notice a sizable bulge has formed in his sweatpants. A shiver runs down your spine and your heart flutters knowing he’s just as turned on as you are right now.

Ready to relieve yourself of the tension you’ve been feeling for at least 20 minutes now, you close the distance between your bodies and firmly set your palms on Josh’s chest. Not allowing him time to question your closeness, you divulge, “Actually, I thought it was pretty hot. I, uh, I wish I was able to witness it with my eyes and not just my ears. But it kind of looks like you’re ready to go again, and I know I cou-”

Josh doesn’t let you finish your sentence, placing both hands on either side of your face and crashing his lips to yours. You respond readily, tracing his full lower lip with your tongue until it parts from his top lip and allows you entrance. Busying your tongue with his, you both relax into the kiss, and he combs some hair out of your face with his fingers. Driven by pure lust, you slide your right hand down his chest, fingertips combing through the happy trail that quite frankly, makes your mouth water, then break the kiss. In a whisper, you ask, “Can I?” and gesture towards his prominent bulge. He answers with a quick nod, and you cup the tent in his pants in your palm.

Groaning into your mouth (like you hoped he would), Josh grips your ass and tugs you forward so there is no space between your bodies. Your hand is sandwiched between both of your groins, but you do your best to stroke his dick through his pants, and revel in the small sounds he emits. 

Pulling away from your mouth, Josh kisses a trail over your jaw and down your throat, lightly sucking your pulse point, then soothes the area with his tongue. Meanwhile, his right hand snakes under your shirt and lingers on the skin of your waist for just a moment, before venturing higher and cupping your breast through your thin bralette. The pad of his thumb locates your nipple through the fabric and begins rubbing slow circles, causing you to inadvertently let out a small squeal. 

Josh chuckles against your neck at the noise, but the laugh turns strained as you increase the pressure your hand is applying to his very hard member. In retaliation, his left hand finds its way under your top and lightly pinches your other nipple, both of them now achingly stiff and sensitive. Each time his fingertips make contact, you feel the pleasure shoot straight down to your pussy. 

Craving more skin to skin contact, you suddenly take a step back and yank your shirt over your head, followed directly by your flimsy bra. Josh hungrily inspects your exposed breasts for just a minute, then drags you back into him so your naked torsos are flush against each other. Pressing his lips back to yours, your tongues again battle for dominance. 

Not even a minute later, Josh begins shuffling the two of you backwards, until you find yourself in his bedroom with your legs hitting the edge of his bed. There, he encourages you onto the navy blue comforter and you scoot up so you can lie back against the soft white pillows. You’re surprised to find that his bed is neatly made, and his room is free of clutter. You kind of expected it to be a pig-sty. 

Josh steals your attention again by crawling up your body and settling himself between your legs. Instead of kissing you, he attaches his lips to your collarbone, where he sucks for a second, then works his way down to the swell of your boob. His mouth closes around your nipple and sucks, causing you to breathe out a sigh of satisfaction.

You wrap your legs around his waist and buck up into him, hoping he’ll get the hint and return the favor by grinding down into you. He does, and you close your eyes and throw your head back against the pillow. 

Josh switches sides and begins lavishing your other nipple with his tongue, while you find the waistband of his pants and reach inside, quickly discovering that he decided against wearing underwear today. You’re not disappointed by the easy access he’s provided to his thick cock. 

Grasping it in your palm, you give his dick a few strokes, then run your thumb over the tip in circles. Josh appreciates this, as indicated by the slow, “Fuckkk,” he breathes out. You continue your motions, loving watching Josh react to your touch almost as much as the feel of his mouth on your bare skin. 

When he’s had enough of torturing your nipples, Josh’s mouth descends down your torso, kissing a circle around your belly button, and continues lower until he reaches the top of your leggings. He silently asks for permission with his eyes, and when you give it to him, he slips his fingers under the waistband and slides both the pants and your (very damp) underwear down your legs. The movement forces you to let go of his cock, and you mourn the loss of contact. 

You’re not upset for long, however, because, after Josh tosses your clothing to the ground, he positions himself on his stomach between your thighs, face lined up with your dripping heat. He lets out a deep groan at the sight of your exposed lower half. Teasing you, he attaches his lips to your inner thigh, kissing down it and toward your center before moving to the other side. This time, when he reaches the top of your inner thigh, he begins sucking on the skin, causing a gasp to escape your lips. He doesn’t let up until he’s left a dark purple bruise, which you’re certain will sting tomorrow and remind you of the fantasy come true that’s occurring right now. 

After he’s satisfied with the hickey, Josh pushes your thighs apart so you’re spread wide open in front of him. You see a small smirk form on his lips right before he leans forward and licks a slow stripe up your slit. As soon as his tongue touches your clit, your back arches off the mattress and a quiet whimper sounds from your mouth. He grins against you at your response and repeats the gesture multiple times in quick succession. When he adds his fingers to the mix, one gently probing your entrance while his tongue’s attention stays on your clit, your hands fly to his head and clutch his curls in bliss. 

He continues licking and sucking your bundle of nerves in perfect time with the thrust of his fingers until you’re panting and absolutely desperate for more. You know he’s also craving more, because he’s begun grinding his hips into the mattress in dire need of friction. 

Giving his curls a small tug, you watch as he lifts his head and darts his tongue out to lick your wetness off his lips. He stares back, waiting for a queue from you on what you want next.

Once you catch your breath, you pull him up for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, then practically beg, “Josh, I really, really need you to fuck me right now. Please.”

Not wasting a second, Josh scurries off the bed and speedily removes his pants, his rigid cock springing free from its confines. You shamelessly stare as he strolls over to his nightstand and retrieves a condom, then kneels next to your body on the mattress. 

It’s in this moment that it dawns on you that you’re about to sleep with the boy you’ve had a crush on for months now. The thought makes your stomach do a flip-flop in your abdomen. You allow yourself to hope that something else may bloom from this, that this isn’t the last time you’ll be naked in Josh Kiszka’s bed.

Once Josh has finished putting on the condom, he nudges his way back between your legs and leans forward so that your body is supporting most of his weight. You delight in the feel of his naked form crushing yours. Holding himself up with one hand on the mattress, he reconnects your lips and licks into your mouth, giving you the most sensual kiss yet. As he kisses you, he reaches down and grabs hold of himself, tapping your clit with the tip of his dick and making you let out a soft moan.

Lips breaking away from yours, Josh looks you directly in the eye and asks, “Are you sure?”

Appreciating his need for explicit consent, you smile at him and wind your arms around the back of his neck. Playing with the curls there, you reply, “Yes, definitely,” and pull him down so you can busy your lips on his neck. 

While you’re sucking your own hickey onto his skin, he lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes in until you can feel his balls against your ass. You mewl against his neck at the feeling of fullness and fist the comforter in your hands. He feels so good you could cry.

Once he’s fully seated in you, Josh blows out a shaky breath, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. He stays still for a moment, giving you some time to adjust to his length, before pulling out slightly and thrusting back into your heat. His rhythm is slow at first, but you don’t mind since it gives you some time to just feel him. And he appears to be enjoying himself, if his eyes being clamped shut and his mouth wide open is any indication.

When he does decide to pick up the pace, the noises your bodies make as he slips in and out of you amplify. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find it hot. Looking down to where you are connected intensifies the experience even more, the sight of your slick all over his cock and in his pubic hair making you clench around him.

Josh groans at the sudden tightness and follows your line of sight. “Holy shit, you’re so wet. Oh my god,” he whimpers. Then, he drags the fingers of his right hand down your body, runs them through your wetness, and begins massaging your clit. 

You’re on cloud nine, and you never want to leave. You truly didn’t know sex could be this fantastic. Josh is attending to your every need like no one else has before, and you’re beyond happy that you made the decision to knock on his door.

His pace picks up even more and you lift your hips off the beds to meet his, thrust for thrust. Hoping to pull him in even closer, you dig your heels into his ass and use it as leverage for your thrusts. Doing this changes the angle just the smallest amount, but now there’s a delicious pressure being applied to the perfect place inside you every time Josh fills you up. This combination of his cock hitting your g-spot and his thumb on your clit has you quickly approaching climax, your face inadvertently scrunching up and your breathing becoming more labored.

Josh notices the changes in your facial expression and breathing and lowers himself to plant a kiss on your lips. Speeding up his motions on your clit, he kisses over to your ear and whispers, “That’s it, baby. Let me see what you look like when you cum.”

The words set something off inside you and you reach your peak, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as a loud gasp leaves your lips. Eyes screwed shut, you moan out, “Josh! Fuck!” and feel yourself gush around him. Your orgasm is prolonged by Josh continuing his movements, making your legs shake and sweat bead at your forehead. The feeling is so intense, you have to swat at Josh’s hand to get him to stop petting your clit and overstimulating you.

Your orgasm has caused your pussy to clench around Josh, and you know he’s affected because his thrusts start to become more erratic. Even though you’re absolutely spent, you reach up to nibble on his ear and run your nails down his back, encouraging him to let go. He plunges into you just a few more times, and then he’s letting out a low grunt and calling out your name in a strained voice. 

Josh doesn’t pull out right away, remaining inside you while the both of you come down from your highs and catch your breath. He kisses you, slow and gentle this time, making you feel all sorts of things that it is definitely too soon for you to be feeling. When he finally pulls away, he smiles down at you, then pulls out and gets up to dispose of the condom. 

He’s back a second later, flopping beside you on his bed and tossing an arm over his forehead. Still grinning, he turns to you and says, “God, that was so hot. Definitely better than I imagined.”

A contented hum sounds from your lips. “Yeah? I’m glad. You can go ahead and add that to your spank bank.”

Josh chuckles at your joke, then extends his hand to play with your hair. Looking at him now, you know that you can’t allow this to be your last time together, and so, you decide to make a little confession of your own.

“I think about you, too, sometimes. When I- when I touch myself, I think about you, too.” 

Josh looks surprised for only a second, and then a light giggle leaves his mouth. 

“Do you happen to own a vibrator, Y/N?” he questions, a smirk etched on his face. 

Cheeks burning, you look away in embarrassment, but still confirm his suspicions with a small, “Yes.”

At your answer, Josh’s face lights up in a full blown grin and he drapes his body over you once more, lips hovering over yours. With a mischievous gleam in his eye, he playfully jests, “You know, thin walls go both ways. The sound of small appliances, say, vibrators, travels pretty easily. And it sounds like yours gets quite a bit of use.”

You know it’s stupid to feel embarrassed, since you’re naked in his bed, but you can’t help averting your eyes from his.

Now giggling at your awkwardness, Josh taps your nose with his to get you to look at him again. “Hey,” he laughs, “Next time you’re thinking of whipping that vibrator out, you can just come see me instead. I’ll take care of you.”

Laughing along with him, you jokingly whisper back, “I’ll keep that in mind,” and seal your lips to his, feeling unusually grateful that you were given such a noisy neighbor.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

Healing - Chapter 3 - Paul Lahote x Reader

Surprise Time - Part III of the series 

Paul’s POV

When her tired voice pleaded with me to warm her up, to lay down next to her, I thought I was going to explode. 

It was beyond difficult to see (Y/N) struggle so horribly. To see her curled form under the sheets, to hear her broken voice. To know that I had to drag this poor girl out of bed would be beyond difficult.

Especially when she asks me to take a nap with her, how could I say no?

I turned the shower on for her, knowing it had been far too long since her last. I noticed the way her hair dulled, I wasn’t able to smell any of her soaps like I normally did.

Her tiredness showed on her face brutally. Though even the pure exhaustion and drained state didn’t dampen her beauty a bit. 

No, I still noticed the way her eyes managed to light up when she saw me; though it was far dimmer than ever before. I heard her heartbeat increase, her excitement growing. Albeit minimally while she was in this state, it still made me feel good in knowing that I could bring some life back into her. 

While I waited for her to finish showering, I found myself thinking about the same thing I always did when it came to (Y/N). I was in love with her, since we were kids. But.. nothing just ever happened. She got into a relationship and I... had relations. One thing that always drove me mad was that I wish I could tell her about the bond we shared, but the right time never came. 

I wanted to tell her when she first found out about the pack, about the entirety of the supernatural world. After all, this bond was the only reason I was actually allowed to tell her. I was thankful that it was her, though I hated that she was dragged into this crazy world. But having her by my side, even as a friend was heavenly. It only intensified my feelings for her. 

But at that time, she needed a protector after some rogue vampires were getting a little too cozy in the area. She was panicked out of her mind, I was standing watch outside of her house all night for weeks. At that time, she needed a protector. At that time, she was already dating Michael, who definitely hated my guts. He knew how I felt about (Y/N), but she didn’t think so. She was not only oblivious, but I knew she didn’t want to lose me from her life. While she was with Michael, she needed a friend. 

And right now, even after the asshat up and left, she still needs a friend. 

I’d be anything she needed me to be. 

I could just hope that one day we become something more, something I’ve always wanted. And I know she wanted it, too. She was just too scared, too scared to lose me. Too scared to lose us. 

No, now wasn’t the right time to tell her, but I wasn’t sure if there would ever be. I wanted (Y/N) to love me for me, she needed to heal. I know she does deep down, but right now she was far too clouded. 

I also needed her to know that I loved her for her, not because some bond told me to. It was just some intense icing on the cake. 

The sound of the water stopping dragged me out of my thoughts, bringing me back into reality. I decided to pick up the dirty clothes on her floor, dropping them into her hamper. I made her bed and simply tidied up her room. 

Anything to encourage a more peaceful mind. I knew that a neater environment would help her, messy environments will keep you down. She needed a fresh start, something to encourage her. I know she always felt a little better with a neat room, so I just tried my best for a few minutes. 

Hearing her soft footsteps approach the bedroom again, I smiled to myself. 

I thought about the way she looked with her wet hair hanging off her shoulder. The way she looked so great in just jeans and some t-shirt.

Wait. That’s my old t-shirt. I didn’t even think she still had it because of Michael. 

“What’s the plan for today?” She asks, sitting down next to me.

“Well, that’s actually a surprise. Let’s get going.” I smile, standing up.

“Thank you for like, making my room like not horrendous.” She smiles up at me. 

“I thought it would make you feel a little better to see a clean room.” I smile, reaching out to put an arm around her, giving a comforting squeeze. “As for the surprise, we should go now.” 

“Lead the way, Lahote.” 

We made our way out of her house, heading over to my truck. And then we were on our way.

“So is the surprise a different waterfall?” She asks, turning her attention away from the window. 

“If I told you, how much of a surprise really is it?” I smirk, looking over at her. 

“I guess you’re right.” She faintly chuckles. 

Even a faint chuckle was enough to give me hope, hope to hear her really laugh soon. 

“I usually am.” 

The drive was a little longer than anticipated, but watching (Y/N) point at every tree she liked, which was a lot of trees, I realized that the old (Y/N) shone through more often. She was finally healing.

I watched as she laid her head against the window, eyes shutting closed for just a moment. Relaxation taking over, slowing down her heartbeat. 

“We’re here.” I break the silence a little while later, stopping the car. 

“Where are we?” She asks, looking around. 

“Well, I told you I’d bring you to a waterfall. But the surprise is the hike to the waterfall, there’s some really cool stuff on the way.” I smile, helping her out of the truck. 

“Ooh, is it a big hike?” 

“A bit, but if you get tired I’ll put you on my back.” I shrug, nudging her lightly. 

“Sounds like a plan.” She chuckles. 

First stop was the labyrinth in the clearing on the way. About a mile and a half into our hike we stumbled across the stone covered floor. 

“Wanna see something cool? This was the cool surprise.” I smile down at her.

“I like cool things.” 

I led her over to the center of the circle, watching her admire the stone on the ground. Observing the woods around her. 

“So if we stand here in the dead center, everything you say will echo.” I smirk. 

“No way.” She nudges me with a smirk.

“Look.” I say, pausing before I spoke up. “Echo!” I yelled. 

I watched as her eyes lit up, a giggle escaping through the curl of her lips as the echo of my voice entered her ears. 

That giggle echoed throughout the labyrinth, sending blissful chills up my spine, a smile taking over my face completely. Her happiness gave me life.  

“Oh my god, that’s so cool, let me try. Uhh... Hi!” She yells, laughing at herself. 

When her echoes returned to her, she jumped up excitedly, practically falling into me. The desire to just hold here there was unreal, but she wasn’t ready for that. 

I wouldn’t dare, I couldn’t hurt her. I can’t cause her soul any more pain. 

The excitement in her eyes was priceless, something I hadn’t seen in a long time. It was something I’d do anything to see. 

After a few moments of us yelling to ourselves, laughing and having a little too much fun, we were suddenly silent. 

Her eyes met mine and I felt the world stop-- just like every time our eyes met. She looked like she wanted to say something, and her eyes held something more intense. 

But her wonderous eyes and increased heartbeat once ceased, as she realized how we both felt. 

Her lip began to quiver and her chest fell, as if someone took the air from her lungs. I noticed her nerves picking up, she grew afraid of herself, of her feelings. 

“Let’s go to the waterfall.” I suggest softly, nodding my head encouragingly. 

(Y/N)’s head nodded quickly and I felt her begin to calm down. So I led us to the waterfall. 

I watched as she clumsily made her way down the trails. I had to guide her at a few points, but overall she kept up pretty well. The sound of the falls entering my ears. 

“Wow.” She breathes out, walking closer. 

“Right? It’s really nice out here.”

“It really is, thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“For being here for me, for taking me here. Just being Paul.” She smiles up at me. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I want to be here for you. I care about you.” I smile, pulling her into my side. 

“It’s important to thank those who care for you.”  She looks up into my eyes, making me melt. “Thanking those who you care about it important.” 

“You’re right.” 

We sat, watching the waterfall and eating the lunch we packed. Though, it wasn’t too long before it was time to head back. 

The hike back wasn’t as long, but it was just as fun. It was nice to see (Y/N) looking alive, looking like what I remember. 

I watched as she grew tired by the minute, her steps slowing and her knuckles growing white from clenching her fists so hard. The way she was running out of breath. 

“Are you getting tired?” 

“No, I’m great.” She turns around, though her voice broke as she was out of breath. 

“Mmmhmm, sure. Sounds like it.” I tease. 

“Alright, fine. I’m a little tired.” She admits, looking at me sheepishly. 

“Get on.” 

I crouch down and stand in front of a rock, making sure it would be easy enough for her to get onto my back. 

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” 

Finishing off the hike with her on my bike was blissful. To feel her so close to me, her head resting on my shoulder, and her hands on my chest. Getting back to the truck was quicker with me walking, but if I was smart I would’ve walked a lot slower. 

I walked her over to her side, helping her in before getting on our way back to her house. 

“Thank you for today, Paul. I appreciate it.” She says, laying her head on the window. 

“Of course.” I smile, watching her eyes droop. 

The ride back was silent, as she had fallen asleep. But her heartbeat was enough noise for me to be happy. Waking her up didn’t really work all too well so when we got back to her house, I picked her sleepy state up and carried her into her house. 

I laid her on her bed and made my way to leave her house. 

“Paul, wait.” She whines from the bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Stay. Please.” She pleads. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Very.” 

I smiled to myself, making my way back over to her bed. I felt her arms wrap around me and pull herself closer to me. 

“You’re so warm.” She mumbles into my shoulder, nuzzling her face into me.  ___________________________ Word Count: 1888

[melancholia-cressa]

Unwanted

This is the sequel to Weakness, the first Dio oneshot I posted here. Lord knows how long I had this thing in my files. I think it was 9 or 10 days? I had writer’s block and college had me in a chokehold, so I lost track of time. I was actually thinking about how I should end this for days now, and here we are. I rushed the ending, to be honest, so I still hope you guys enjoy it somehow.

warning: mentions of blood, minor swearing, huge spoilers for Part 3, another very long oneshot, and a lot of references to the oneshot preceding this

Note: I deliberately used Dio as his human side and DIO as the current one with the insane god complex.

                                            ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Dio Brando—no, DIO stood at the peak of humanity; transcending its mortal existence entirely. The moment he received his Stand from an old crone, the idea of anyone opposing the charismatic and powerful vampire was inconceivable. Foolish, even, in the eyes of his most loyal followers. The man couldn't care less for the corpses and blood that trailed after his every step nor for those who swore undying fealty with lips pressed to his shoes in a kiss of fear and reverence. Every word that rolled off his tongue is law and grace combined, akin to religious faith with its own avid believers and devotees. A mere touch is denied and unattainable, something that no one could even work hard for, unless it was to satiate his more carnal desires. If anything, men and women either feared or admired him. On more than one occasion, it was both. A god among men, they say.

So, why is one measly photograph enough to chill the blood in his veins and falter the confidence in his stride?

Enya watched her master with obvious curiosity. Her fingers gripped her cane tighter the longer DIO stared at the developed image. The old woman assumed that her lord, almighty and fearsome, stewed in cold rage. Never had she seen him cower from terror nor lose his composure. It was unimaginable. Enya discarded the notion and did not bother to ask questions. No one dares question him, after all.

His fingers curled, knuckles discreetly trembling from the force, and nearly crumpled the poor thing in his hand. To the untrained eye, his focus remained on the two prominent figures of Jotaro Kujo, a teenager donning a high school uniform with the addition of his unusual cap and a large chain hanging on the collar, and the latter's grandfather Joseph Joestar whose clothes resembled that of some human adventurer—Indiana Jones, was it? DIO didn't care to know and never will. He gave little thought to those men. Not even the two Stand users that left his ranks and became traitors once the Joestars took the implanted fleshbuds off their foreheads.

What caught his attention was the face of a woman who seemed to be in her early twenties. She stood next to Jotaro with her arms crossed and her gaze focused on the horizon. The grim smile and the hardened resolve in her eyes made her look more alive in the photo than what DIO wanted. The tension in her expression contradicted the ease in her posture, marked by her lax shoulders and dainty fingers paused midway from drumming against her arm. She brought unwanted memories of blood and weakness, ones he thought he buried long ago after a century of isolation.

It was you. The same eyes, nose, lips, skin, hair—even the damn way you held yourself. The glaring similarities between the woman in his memories and the woman engraved in the film rattled him to the core. DIO never believed in the supernatural before he became one himself. Although, he thought that reincarnation was an idiotic concept born from those who cannot accept that death and the afterlife were the end of all things. Yet, there you are; a painful reminder of his former humanity. The turmoil that wrapped itself around his mind added to the phantom throb of his heart from when he was still human.

His glare intensified, easing his grip on the spirit photograph. DIO doesn't want to alarm Enya nor any of his underlings. He loathed appearing weak and undignified; giving them an opportunity to ambush him should he let his guard down.

The photo fluttered next to a broken camera, smashed to pieces with a chop of his hand, on the table with a huff from the imposing man. Moonlight spilled through the windows and bathed him in its luminescence; his shadow swallowed by the darkened areas of the room where the light would never reach. The fury burned bright in his eyes, yet Enya noticed something else—an emotion indecipherable and foreign. She never had the chance to mull about it, because DIO turned on his heel and walked towards the stairs with an unnatural grace and elegance in his gait.

“It seems that fate is upon us,” he told no one in particular; his smooth, honeyed voice carried across the expanse of the lobby. "I shall retire to my room for the night. Do not disturb me."

DIO didn't need to say any more. The underlying threat in his words told Enya everything. If anything, this decision served to confuse the witch doctor more. Her master always ridiculed the Joestars, either with a scoff or a mocking laugh, in their quest every time he checked their progress to send in the next Stand user. Tonight, he barely uttered an insult nor a snide comment. She wordlessly watched him disappear around the bend, then sighed.

"Oh, Lord Dio… What troubles you so?"

The heavy thud of a closed door echoed in DIO's ears; magnified by the lifeless expanse of his room. His feet absent-mindedly led himself to sit on one of the armchairs across a small table where a golden goblet accompanied a bottle of wine. With a practiced motion, his fingers curled around the stem of the goblet as he poured himself a drink with his other hand. His vacant gaze remained on the red liquor flowing into his cup; lost in memories and possibilities that tortured him for a century.

DIO never did forgive himself for allowing you to die.

He had his chance. He could have turned you into a vampire like himself when he held you in that castle. He could have given you an opportunity to live life with him; his abiding presence a gift to compensate for the time he left you after he gained immortality. He could have given you unimaginable freedom—to see civilization evolve and change before your eyes, to live in a time where you two would be the only constants in the world. DIO could have taken you with him during that lonesome century to be beside him when the coffin was opened. He could see the silent admiration in your gaze if you were to travel the world with him as he searched for a way to attain Heaven. Knowing that you had never traveled outside of London, DIO would have gladly taken you to anywhere you wanted and wished. You could have been the one sitting across from him at this very moment. He could imagine a thick tome in your hands and the curious gleam in your eyes as you carefully flipped pages, as if they would break under the slightest pressure of your touch. You had never held a book before since girls were rarely educated then, and DIO was certain you would have loved to read.

If it wasn't for the fact that he respected your dying wish, DIO could have lived the rest of his life with you.

The bottom of the bottle harshly slammed against the wooden surface. Hairline cracks crept across the glass bottle due to his vice grip, knuckles turning pale from the force. His jaw clenched, teeth gnashed and bared, as he brought the rim of the goblet to his lips. Your disappointed frown flashed across his mind; the faint memory of your hands gently taking away the bottle from his grasp consumed his senses. DIO could feel your fingers brush against his wrist as you pulled him to the spare room in your house; the one which once belonged to your parents. The slur in his voice was painfully obvious, yet you never pried for the reasons that caused him to drink so much. That soft smile still graced your features, even when you faced his alcohol-induced outbursts of rage and annoyance. It burned itself into his mind even after all these years. DIO brought the untouched wine back to the table as fingers buried themselves in his hair.

He couldn't even bring himself to drink away his thoughts of you.

"Useless," he muttered, tipping his head back against the cushion. He closed his eyes with a grunt. A thunderous roar shook the floors of the castle as he slaughtered zombies who dared laid their greedy hands on your corpse. Blood—your blood—smeared his skin, stains that still haunted him for eternity, and it was everywhere. His hands desperately reached for you, your dead body clutched by that damnable blond who accompanied Jonathan, as he fell from the balcony—

"I, DIO, being pathetic and weak?" He spat, feeling pinpricks of pain blossoming in his clenched fists. "Forget your humanity. Forget Dio Brando. Forget her."

DIO found himself spending the remnants of the night wallowing in memories of you, until the light of dawn peeked through his curtains.

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your smile greeted him the following night.

In the solace of his room, DIO traced a sharp nail against the photo that held your beaming expression: eyes alight with laughter and lips pulled into that godforsaken smile. Your fingers brushed your mouth, paused in the middle of hiding the aforementioned smile behind your hand. You shared the same name as her. Two cameras lie broken on the table along with a photo—disregarded and forgotten—of the Joestar group riding camels through the Saudi Arabian desert. He didn’t care for the others laughing beside you.

What mattered was the bitter throb of his heart that shouldn’t even be possible for someone who claimed to have triumphed over his humanity.

"Dio!" He could hear your scandalized gasp ring clear in the country air. A hand covered the smile on your lips as you laughed out loud, brushing off the strands of hair that stuck to your face. Water soaked the cuffs of your sleeves and your collar, but you didn’t mind. “I can’t believe you did that!”

Neither did Dio, but there he was: water from the nearby stream trickling down his fingers and a smug smirk stretching from one ear to another. He huffed, shaking the water off his hands, “You forget that I’m not some stuck-up aristocrat who can’t have fun.”

“True,” you hummed, wiping your hands on your skirt. “Then again, it has been a while since we spent time together like this.”

You lifted your apron to wipe off the water on your face when a handkerchief softly rubbed against your cheek. Dio, who was surprised at his own gentle ministrations, continued to dab the water off as if it was routine; his thumb ghosting your heated skin through the thin cloth. The scarlet flush blooming across your cheeks and tinting your ears made his smirk widen, if that was possible. You sputtered your gratitude, yet adamantly tried to evade the touch of his handkerchief as you held your apron in an iron grip. Dio could only laugh at your expense, his heart thundering and his own cheeks the slightest bit warm.

A resounding crash stole him away from the memory. The bright, blue sky and its cotton-wisp clouds faded from view; the bleak, ornate walls of his room in their place. The light of the sun was replaced with streaks of moonlight slipping through the cracks of his curtains and cascading down the floor. It was only then did DIO realize the crinkled edge of the photograph in his hand, the glittering shards scattered on the ground, and the wine that dripped from the wall to pool around the fragments of what once was a glass bottle. The quiet of the room was broken by three, quick knocks and a voice asking the man of his condition with an unmistakable, underlying tone of concern. DIO recognized the voice to be one of his most loyal subordinates, Vanilla Ice.

“What happened? Is something the matter, Lord Dio?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. DIO closed his eyes, stopping time and pocketing your photo in one fluid motion. The World picked up one of the broken cameras and threw it out the window while the vampire stood over the Joestar photograph as if nothing happened. Images of you from his memories and your reincarnation occupied his thoughts; your photo burning a hole in his pant pocket. When time resumed, DIO swiped the photo off the table and thrusted the memories of his past to the darkest recesses of his mind.

DIO would leave you be for now if it meant he could take you back by his side in the end.

“Nothing that concerns you, Vanilla Ice. Come in, I have new orders for Enya.”

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

She’s not you. She will never be you.

But you want her to be, DIO’s traitorous subconscious whispered. This is ridiculous. The man has never even met your reincarnation. He never spent time with you in this life, barely even a ghost of a conversation between you two, yet he longs for your company more than anything. His rational thoughts and sentiments warred against each other, vying for his final decision on what to do with you. The moment DIO saw you, bleeding and bruised on the stairs below, his heart bled and his shoulders nearly hunched from the pain. His rational side of the argument was silenced and shackled by the chains of past memories that bound him to you. He ached to take you into his arms and whisper reassurances in your ears, that he will give you all the comfort and security he could never give you before.

He couldn’t. Not with Polnareff leaning into your touch; his arm slung over your shoulders and head dangerously close to yours. Not with his blood simmering under his skin and his nails piercing through his palm, blood slowly seeping through the fingers of his clenched fist. The fight in your eyes hid the intense worry for your wounded comrade—maybe even lover, DIO bitterly mused—as you pressed your side flush against the silver-haired man’s battered, stumbling body. You looked at DIO as if he was the gum stuck on the sole of your shoe; as if he was the vilest, most putrid thing that ever graced the Earth. The tension and anger twisted your expression into a scowl, brows furrowed and lips dipped into that all-too familiar frown.

DIO had so many questions to ask you; so many memories to share in the vain hope that you would sympathize with him and join him. One look in your eyes, the same indiscernible emotion flickering to life when you tended to his bruises before he was adopted by George Joestar, and DIO knew he would lose this battle with you just like all those years ago. He could feel your fingers wrapped around his arm again; the cold cloth pressed to his bruised cheek; the soft smile he hated and adored at the same time. White hot rage bubbled and coursed through his veins. His jaw clenched and his nails dug deeper into the scarred flesh of his palms, drops of blood dripping towards the floor. His heart pounded against his chest as if desperate to flee into your embrace.

“In your fucking dreams,” you spat, scowl deepening and shifting your hold on Polnareff. “I’d sooner die than join you.”

Phantom daggers planted themselves into DIO’s heart, violently thrashing in its cage, as the image of you in his memories clashed against your battle-worn figure. Remnants of your smile adorned your lips followed by the laughter that echoed in his ears; the teasing lilt reserved solely for Dio. Your eyes glowed with life, brimming with joy and love that he realized too late. Your outstretched hand implored him to take it; to cool the swell of his bruises and wipe the blood off his wounds; to run across the fields once more before he had to return to his studies; to spend another day with you in Victorian London before he found that stone mask. Then there was you of the present, breathing ragged and gaze lit with spite and abhorrence for everything DIO is. You struggled to carry Polnareff’s weight from how much you leaned on him. Blood matted your hair and a long scratch marred your cheek. He noticed your leg wobble, threatening to let you and the other man pathetically fall to the floor. Your hands gripped Polnareff closer to you, whether this was an intended or subconscious action was beyond DIO.

He still yearned for you, despite all of this.

                                           ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

His pained screams disrupted the once peaceful night of Cairo, Egypt.

“What?!” DIO felt the cracks viciously trail from his leg to his head, split in half similar to how Jonathan caught him off-guard on that fateful day. Humiliation, shame, disbelief, and a storm of emotions raged in his heart; eyes wide and lips parted from the turbulence wracking his body. Jotaro watched, heated glare shadowed under the brim of his hat, as DIO’s screams reached the heavens. The stars joined in the spectacle, mockingly bright under the torturous pain and suffering of the once invincible vampire.

“I-Impossible!” DIO warbled, choking and gurgling from the blood pooling in his mouth. “I… am DIO! I… am...”

Something in his gut coiled; whispers of his mind urged him to look in the direction of the harbinger of his demise. His gape drifted from the stars to Jotaro, but his attention was not on the high school delinquent. At least ten feet away from the two, you leaned on the railing of the bridge with trembling legs. One of your hands clutched the wound on your left side; a wound DIO inflicted himself. He clearly remembered the triumph and glee that dulled his senses; the swing of the stop sign that would bring the Joestar bloodline to an end; the surprise shifting into panic when you jumped in front of Jotaro with the intent to protect him. In his haste, DIO flicked his wrist and grazed your side with the edge of the stop sign.

He once thought fate favored him. That the decision to cut off his head and to take Jonathan’s body was fate allowing him to live another century. That your absence was a weakness that fate had nipped in the bud for him; that your reborn soul was another chance fate had given him to atone for his mistakes. So, why? Why would fate pit you against him, to relive that cursed night when Dio had taken your life in front of his very eyes? Were you fated to ally with the Joestars and die for them? Another corpse among the others that followed the wake of the Joestar lineage, all just to defeat him?

DIO couldn’t kill you, as much as he despised the sentiment.

A fool. He is and always will be a fool when it comes to you. Dio will always want you in each lifetime, and it pained DIO to admit it in his final moments. His heart lurched and lodged itself in his throat; the fire in his blood scorching his skin and insides. His hand reached out to you, just like before, but you’re not dying this time. He knew that, if the afterlife actually existed, he will never be able to join you. DIO saw your eyes widen as you took a step back, farther from his grasp. Another bloodcurdling scream rang in the night; dying gurgles heard only by the two people who brought him to his death.

Even in this life, Dio could never have you.

[mdawritings]

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 8

I.VIII

Masterlist

Warnings: This is your reminder that this fic is VERY toxic. This is in no way meant to romanticize the relationship… it is wrong. Hotch should not treat Y/N this way.

Song(s): "W.D.Y.W.F.M?" by The Neighborhood

After leaving Hotch’s apartment this past weekend you thought it would be the last time you break your routine with him. The weekly meetings were working for the two of you. No more surprise late-night visits, no more off-schedule meetings in his office. You would see him every Wednesday like you two agreed and nothing more. It was growing to be too tiring, the constant back and forth with him. One minute he’s displaying his jealousy, the next he’s walking you home to your apartment, talking to you quietly and telling you his favorite color, and then the next he’s kicking you out on your ass barely giving you a second look.

It doesn’t even hit you how tiring the whole routine is until Wednesday rolls around. You had an exam in the morning, for which you felt entirely unprepared because all you did was spend the first two days of the weekend trying to keep your schedule revolving around Hotch’s whims.

You feel a serious migraine coming on as you struggle to maintain your focus on Hotch, who paces back and forth at the front of the lecture hall. Your eyes drift closed, the bright fluorescent lighting managing to aggravate the growing head pain.

"Miss Y/L/N," His deep baritone seems to radiate off every surface in the classroom, intensifying the dull ache in your head. "If you require nap time, please remember this isn’t a daycare or your bedroom. Wake up."

"Sorry, sir," You mutter under your breath, struggling to hold your head up and focus. The words on the whiteboard are blurred, fuzzy through your hazy migraine brain. His eyes linger on you, reading your body language. He knows that something is off. You don’t get all flustered like he expects you to. You barely give him any reaction at all. You swear you see a flash of worry across his face, a small pause in the lecture but if he does it’s barely noticeable and cannot be attributed to your lack of energy at the current moment.

The rest of the class is just as much of a blur as the first half and as you’re packing up your belongings, the deep baritone voice calls out, "Miss Y/L/N, stay back for a second."

Katie shoots you a look, muttering, "Damn, does he ever let you catch a break?"

You shake your head, not having enough energy to muster up a substantial response. You ignore his calls and continue packing up before turning to follow Katie to the door.

"Y/N, he called you," She glances over her shoulder to see you close behind.

"So?" You bring your hand up to rub your temple roughly.

Katie sighs, "Look, I’ll wait for you outside. Just don’t anger him more than you already do. I would like for you to live until your 21st birthday." She teases, managing to put a smile on your face despite your sour attitude.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping your mind will clear once they’re open again, but as you turn and open your eyes, Hotch’s piercing gaze sends your thoughts into a scramble. You stand by the door uncomfortably, watching as the last few students file out.

You avoid his eye contact and keep your feet planted firmly in place, knowing that he’s too addicting, too irresistible for you to consider getting any closer to him.

"Y/N, is something wrong?" He glances over you and takes a few steps closer.

As soon as he moves closer, you take a few steps back, "I’m tired today and I need to get to a study session." You’re practically backpedaling all the way out of the classroom.

"Wait, Y/N," He calls and moves a little quicker to get closer to you, "Is there something going on with you that I should know about?"

You push down the small scoff and resist the urge to tell him off. From the way he’s treated you the past few days, he doesn't deserve any information about you. If he wants to show a complete lack of respect for you, there's nothing about your life he ‘should know about.’

"No. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have exams to study for. Goodbye Professor Hotchner." You rush out the words and turn on your heel.

"Wait," He calls after you, "Einstein!" His efforts to stop you are to no avail. You push open the door, hooking your arm in Katie’s, practically dragging her away from his classroom.

"Whoa, slow down, kid," She laughs. You ignore her, continuing to drag her further away from the lecture hall and out of the building onto the quad. "Damn, is he really that bad?" She holds you back, forcing you to slow down.

"I’m so fucking sick and tired of him," You let out a frustrated groan.

"Really?" Katie raises a brow but continues to walk with you towards the small café where you always get lunch. "Huh." She lets out and you turn your attention to her.

"What? Don’t believe me?" You let go of her arm.

She shrugs, "He just seems like the type of guy who’s an asshole in public but actually a smooth talker and charming when you’re alone with him."

It actually pisses you off how right Katie is about him. Except for the fact that he can be an asshole in private too. Especially when he kicks you out of his house at 2 in the morning.

"No matter how charming he is in private, he’s still an asshole the other 50% of the time," You snap, "Come on. I have an exam to study for."

The two of you pick up coffee and some lunch before burying yourselves deep in the stacks in the library. Normally, on a Wednesday, you would be rushing to grab a quick bite for lunch, get some work done as fast as possible so that you could rush back to Hotch’s office for your weekly afternoon meeting. You weren’t planning on blowing him off, at least, not when the day started. But after actually seeing him, you feel no desire to spend an hour with him, letting him enjoy and explore every inch of your body. He doesn’t deserve a minute of your time. But even then, it’s not that simple to blow him off, because despite telling yourself you deserve better, you still find yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes as the time inches closer and closer to 2:00.

Are you pissed at him right now? Yes, but that doesn’t change the way that your heart swells when you think of the time you’ve spent together. For every moment that he’s pissed you off, you can think of another where he’s made you smile and laugh. And for every moment he’s hurt your feelings or bruised your ego, you can think of one where he’s praised your hard work and boosted your confidence. For every moment he’s made you feel unimportant, you can think of one where he’s made you moan, made your toes curl, and made you feel like the most irresistible woman on planet earth.

You bounce your knee repeatedly, and Katie reaches a hand under the table to place over your bouncing leg, trying to calm you down, "You alright, Einstein?" She doesn’t look up from the textbook she’s reading but gives your knee a soft squeeze before letting go.

"Yeah," You glance at the clock again, watching the second-hand pass 12 and the minute hand shift to hover over two, lining up with the hour hand. 2:10 pm. Wednesday 2:10 pm. As if on schedule, you hear your phone buzzing in your bag. You place a hand over your bag, hoping to dull the noise of the vibrations.

But it doesn’t help. You dig around in your bag for the phone and ignore the call before shoving it back in and attempting to turn your focus back down to your notes. Another call. More vibrating.

Once again, Katie speaks without looking up, "You going to get that?"

"No, it’s not important." You fight the urge to check the phone. You already know who it is without looking at it.

"How do you know it’s not important if you don't look at it?" She puts the highlighter down and looks at you. You see her eyes narrow slightly as she makes it extremely obvious she’s trying to read your expression right now.

"I’m sure it’s nothing important," You force your eyes back down onto your notes. Focus, damn it. Just focus on your work.

Your attempts are in vain. Your phone buzzes about 3 more times over the next 20 minutes, which just further concerns Katie, who is now thoroughly convinced you have lost your mind. And maybe you have. You feel off. Your heart aches in your chest. Your mind is in a fog and you can’t think clearly. Every time you start to dive back into studying, your mind wanders back to your professor.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Is he pacing in his office, waiting for you to walk in the door? Or is he calmly sitting at his desk as if it doesn’t faze him? Does it faze him? Does he even care if you didn’t show up? He’s called you five times already. But maybe it’s not about you. He’s not the type of man that takes no for an answer and he doesn’t like being told what to do. Maybe it’s all about the dynamic. He likes the idea of you as a younger girl fawning over him, worshipping him, hanging onto every last word that comes out of his mouth.

In reality, maybe he doesn’t even care about you at all. He just knows you’re attractive and that’s enough for him.

You want that to be the answer. That would be much easier to swallow. That would be easier to deal with. Knowing that he just wants you for your body is easy to cope with. But there’s something about the little things he does. The way he trusts you with his personal notes. He lets you read his annotations in the novels he lends you. He doesn’t just give you work to do, but he listens to what you have to say, really listens. He makes photocopies of your notes. He lets you annotate in the margins of his books.

You swear that when you crack a joke or make fun of him, you can see a smile spread across his face. Just last week, you teased him about his horrible handwriting, and you could’ve sworn his handwriting was a little neater in the comments of your recent essay.

You feel comfortable around him. He loosens up around you. He’s harsh and unrelenting when it comes to criticism, but he knows you can handle it. He understands you want the truth. You want honesty. You want guidance. He understands that. He seems to understand you better than you know yourself.

So how come you seem to be so in the dark about him? You can never understand his motivations for anything. One minute, he’s scolding you in class, the next he’s praising you in private. He’s inviting you over to his place, but soon after tossing you out. He walks you home, indulges your silly questions, but then makes you feel like an unimportant one-night stand as if he’s only sleeping with you because you’re available to him.

It was the conditional nature of it all: ‘There’s no one else I would sleep with right now anyway’

The words sting. He’s only exclusively sleeping with you because you’re all he has. His only option.

You pull yourself out of your head. Finally turning your attention back onto the notes in front of you. No more wasted energy on Hotch. You have work to get done, and you’re sick and tired of letting him have so much control over you.

You manage to avoid Hotch for the rest of the week. You don’t have his class on Thursday and you know his class schedule well enough to be able to dodge seeing him in the halls or accidentally running into him while meeting with other professors. Even after Wednesday’s migraine fades away, you’re constantly running on low battery. Your brain is mush and your thoughts are unorganized and disjointed.

None of your schoolwork manages to hold your attention. You can’t think clearly anymore and it pisses you off. Even without spending time with Hotch, he’s ruining you. Absolutely, completely, ruining you.

Your depressed mood doesn’t go unnoticed, either. Katie grows so concerned for you that she proposes you both skip your classes on Friday, sleep in, and then have a really fun night, drinking with all your friends. The craziest part of it all? You agree. So you skip class on Friday. Your agreement shocks Katie. She’s happy about it, stating that you need a break and it’s okay to miss class every once in a while, saying "None of the professors even take attendance. They won’t notice that you skipped. And if they do, they know you’re a good student and would only miss class for a valid reason."

But you know that your absence will not go completely unnoticed. You know that your absence in one class, in particular, will not bode well for you. Hotch will inevitably lay into you even harder on Monday in class. He will torture you, embarrass you in front of the whole class for skipping.

Again, you’re sick and tired of letting him have control over you.

"And another one bites the dust!" You tease playfully as you pour the last of the vodka into your cup, "Let me go see if we have a bottle of wine." You stand up from your seat on the floor, giving Katie’s shoulder a small squeeze as you pass by. You step into the kitchen, open the liquor cabinet, and pull out a bottle for you and your friends. Just as you pull out the cork and place the bottle down on the coffee table, there’s a knock at the door. "I’ll get it." You nod.

"I hope it’s not our upstairs neighbors complaining again. We’re not even that loud!" Katie yells and you laugh, knowing that she has no sense of volume and spends mostly every weekend screaming at reality television when the two of you drink a little too much. If you lived above your apartment, you’d be bothered too. You roll your eyes at Katie’s comment and reach forward to open the door.

"Hey sorry about the—" You’re about to start apologizing for the noise when you see him standing there at the door. You let out a small breath, "Charlie." You say softly and he returns a sheepish grin.

He holds up two bottles in his hands and shrugs, "I brought sustenance."

"I didn’t think you would come," You admit honestly, but step aside to let him into your apartment. You hadn’t talked to Charlie in nearly a week. The last time you even spoke to him was right after you made out with him and then ran out on him.

"Well, Katie invited me and I thought it would be the perfect time to apologize for being such an ass last week." He shakes his head. He opens his mouth, probably to continue to apologize but you don’t let him speak.

"No, Charlie, I’m partially to blame," You argue and take the bottles from his hands, "I shouldn’t have kissed you back."

"I didn’t know you were seeing someone, I never would’ve kissed you," You’re just about to step into the living room to rejoin the rest of your friends, but you grab his arm and hold him back a little.

"Wait, what?" He looks down at you with a grin, but your face is twisted into one of horror. Does he know about you and Hotch? Did he see something he wasn’t supposed to?? Hear something?

"Oh come on, Einstein. You’re way more distracted than usual, you’ve got a little extra pep in your step, and you always have a little," He reaches forward hooking a finger into the collar of your shirt, pulling it down slightly to reveal a small fading bruise just at the top of your breasts, "Mark on your neck." He teases.

You smack his hand away, feeling your face grow hot, "I’m not seeing anyone."

"Oh, really?" Charlie smirks, "So why’d you run away from that kiss as if you had just committed an act of adultery?"

You roll your eyes, but laugh a little at his teasing. It’s nice to have one of your best friends back, "I’m not in a relationship." You clarify.

"So you are seeing someone… friends with benefits?" He grins and throws an arm around you.

"Are you asking about the guy or making a proposition for us?" You jokingly flirt back with him, attempting to establish the normal witty banter the two of you usually have together.

"Whichever you’d prefer," He grins and pulls you back to the group, "Now that I’m here, we can get the actual party started." He pulls you down to sit on the floor next to him before reaching to steal your cup and finish it off.

"I’m pretty sure that was mine," You laugh and lean back against him.

"Oh… really? My bad," He shrugs with a sneaky little smirk, before reaching for another cup to pour you both new drinks.

"You just can’t help putting your hands all over things that aren’t yours, huh?" At that, Charlie erupts into loud laughter and your heart surges with happiness. Finally, you’re able to push Hotch from your mind. You forget about him altogether as you spend the night laughing and drinking with friends.

——

You close the door behind your friends, the last of them finally leaving, and lean against the door with a small sigh. "Jesus, I am exhausted. This week has felt like hell on earth," You complain and move towards your living room, dreading cleaning up the myriad of bottles, cups, and food wrappers left behind from the night’s festivities.

"I’m going to shower and immediately pass the fuck out," Katie fights through a yawn, "Don’t worry about the mess. We can clean it up together tomorrow." She waves her hand before turning to walk through the apartment to the bathroom.

"You know I can’t go to bed and leave a mess!" You yell over the sound of the shower water running. You place the last few bottles into the recycling and hear your phone vibrating obnoxiously in the other room. You rush to grab it, only to see the familiar number that you’ve ignored nearly 20 times in the past 3 days.

You slam the phone down frustratedly. You want to see Hotch. More than anything, you want him to wrap his arms around you, pull you close, and kiss you until you’re weak in the knees. Aside from the sex, you have missed his company. He’s intelligent and he sees the complexities of your mind. He makes you smile. You like to think you’re one of the few people who manage to make him smile. He spends so much of the day with his face screwed into that emotionless frown. You like being able to be the person to relieve that tension, whether it’s while you’re on your knees in front of him or simply with a witty, sarcastic remark. But you deserve respect. And you’re tired of settling for anything less from him.

You walk to turn out some of the lights in your living room when you hear your phone buzz on the couch again. You want to ignore it but something inside of you urges you to check the message. You pick up the phone and check the most recent message.

Come outside.

"What the fuck?" You speak softly, worried that Katie will somehow hear you over the roaring shower water. You walk to the window in your living room and pull back the blinds. You glance down at the front of your building. There he is. Aaron Hotchner is standing in front of your building, leaning against his car, staring right back up at you. You glance down at the phone and dial his number.

He picks up quickly, continuing to keep his eyes focused on you through the window, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Can you just come down? We need to talk." He tilts his head looking up at you and gestures for you to come down.

"Isn’t it obvious I don’t feel like talking to you right now?" You want to shut the blinds and hang up but you get the feeling Hotch isn’t going to take no for an answer.

"Just come down. I’m not having this conversation over the phone." He runs a hand through his hair, messing with it slightly. You can see he’s in casual sweats and a t-shirt.

"Oh, I wasn’t aware there was going to be a conversation." There’s a pause as you both stare back at each other. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as the tension and anger build up inside you. He’s managed to ruin a perfect night with your friends. How does he manage to invade every moment of your life? "This is creepy, Hotch. You can’t just show up to my apartment like this."

"I’m not talking over the phone. If you want to yell at me or scold me or something you’re going to have to come down here to do it." He shakes his head disapprovingly and stands up from the way he was leaning on the car, taking a firmer stance with you.

"Hotch—" Before you can get another word out, he hangs up on you. You glare down at him, and he simply shrugs, crossing his arms across his chest. By the time you make it down the stairs and out the front door of your apartment complex, you’re absolutely seething with rage.

"You cannot be here. You cannot just show up here whenever you want and expect me to be okay with that." You storm out to meet him, wrapping your arms around your body defensively. You keep your distance, worried about what you’ll do if you or he get too close to one another. It has been nearly a week since you’ve had your hands on him and you’re convinced the irrational, hormone-driven part of you will dominate once you get one whiff of his cologne.

"Why’d you blow me off? Why haven’t you been answering my calls? You didn’t even show up to class today. I was worried," He seems genuinely concerned, his eyes running over your body, almost as if he’s checking you for injury.

You’re not even sure how to respond, only managing to get out, "Worried?"

"It’s not like you to skip class. I figured out pretty quickly you were mad at me, for some reason that I haven’t been able to decipher, but I didn’t expect you to resort to skipping class." He takes a few steps towards you, and you curse yourself for not maintaining the distance between the two of you. From here, you can see a little more dep[th in those beautiful brown eyes of his, and you can see the way his arms tense and strain a little against his jacket.

"For some reason?" You scoff, "Are you really that blind to the impact of your own actions?

Hotch glances away for a second, frustrated with you, letting out a long breath, "Look, Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me." He talks with his hands, expressing the sentiment that he’s exasperated with you as if you’re being ridiculous.

"I expect you to treat me with a little bit of respect, Aaron," You have to be firm with him. You’re not going to let him manipulate you or walk all over you.

"I respect you." He states simply.

"You threw me out at two in the morning." You point out and you see his firm demeanor falter a little.

"I offered to call you a car." You chuckle bitterly and shake your head at his responses. You know he’s not stupid. He’s actually one of the smartest people you’ve ever met. He can usually read you so well, what is so confusing about this that he can’t get it through his dense head?

"You told me there was no one else you’d want to sleep with. The only reason I’m the only woman you’re sleeping with is that there’s no one else you want to sleep with." You’re struggling to keep your voice steady and calm, but you feel your voice tremble a little as the pain in your chest increases, recalling the events of the past weekend. You’re fighting to keep from letting him see how much his words have hurt you. You don’t want him to think you’re too emotionally invested, but you also don’t want him to get away with hurting you.

Hotch swallows. He clenches his jaw. He realizes. He knows what he said and he knows what it meant. "I told you I haven’t slept with anyone but you."

You roll your eyes. He’s clearly not getting it. "But would you? If given the chance, would you sleep with someone else?"

Hotch hesitates. That hesitation is enough confirmation for you. "Go home, Aaron," You let out frustratedly and turn to walk inside. He catches your wrist and pulls you back around for a kiss. You melt against him a little, forgetting just how much he makes you go weak in the knees. You haven’t felt his touch in nearly a week and it shows in the way you’re completely surrendering yourself to him in seconds. But you pull away for a second to catch your breath, realizing you can’t just get sucked back into him again.

You sigh, "You can’t just kiss me to get me to stop talking."

He kisses you again, a little softer this time, running his hands up to cup your face, thumbs running over your cheeks lightly. You start to pull away again. "I don’t want to sleep with anyone else." He breathes against your lips. "I just want you. No one else. You’re all I need."

And just like that, you’re falling into him all over again. The promise of some form of exclusivity, some amount of commitment to you, manages to soften your anger. It dulls your frustration. In all honesty, it hurt you to be away from him for a week. You feel lost without his company and now, in this moment, the haze that you had been living in for the past week has seemed to lift. The fog in your brain clears, you feel a little less disorganized. You can think clearly again.

"I only want you too," You let out before pulling him close for a heated kiss. His hands roam your body hungrily and you press into him, your pillowy breasts pushing against his firm chest. His scent invading your senses, his hands gripping your face.

"I have—" You speak between heated kisses, "I have to go back inside. Katie," You pause to let out a soft moan as Hotch’s lips leave yours and travel under your jaw, "Katie is inside." You manage to tear yourself away from him, "You have to go, someone might see you here." You nod, "I’ll see you Monday."

He nods in response and you turn to walk up the steps to your door, and just like that night he walked you home, he calls out to you before you get to the door, "Einstein!" He comes running up to you, placing one last kiss on your lips, "I’m sorry." He says it so softly you barely catch it. There’s a moment. A pause. After he says it, he stands there. His hands on your cheeks, holding your face in place so that he can look down into your eyes. And when you look up at him, you get the sense he genuinely means it. He doesn’t want to hurt you. You stand there, both looking at each other for a moment. But the moment is fleeting. He soon turns and walks back to his car before you can fully process the apology. You turn into the building, taking your time to walk up the steps, wanting to savor the euphoric feeling that comes with Hotch's presence.

You step back into your apartment closing the door behind you, pausing to take a slow breath in. Your heart is still racing after that kiss. Just like that, Hotch has managed to suck you back in. His soft words, his rough hands on your body, his mouth warm moving against yours. The warning signs are there. You know you need to stay away, but he’s just so fucking mesmerizing. There’s something so exhilarating about risking it all, about sneaking around with him. Something about the stolen glances in class and the heated midnight kisses. You take another second to catch your breath before turning around.

"Why was Professor Hotchner outside our apartment?" Katie has her arms crossed against her chest, her hair dripping onto her shirt from the shower, "And why the fuck were you kissing him?"

Chapter 9: I.IX →