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eupheme · 2 years ago

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It Had To Be You | Day 31 - New Years Eve

alfred pennyworth x f!reader

Rated T - 2k words

Prompt: countdown/new year’s eve/midnight kiss + hot chocolate

Tags: age difference, soft domestic holiday fluff, mutual pining, a massage, a confession, and a new years kiss

Sure, there’s a few places you could spend New Years Eve. But there’s only one person you want to spend it with.

It seemed like a good idea - you're only really rethinking it as you press the buttons on the elevator. The ornate, brass doors closing behind you, the snow still clinging to the shoulders of your puffy winter jacket.

The soft, familiar jazz as it takes you up to the top floor - your legs still cold as the doors open, as you step out into the foyer.

It's half-lit - almost casual, despite the luxurious decor. Certainly cozy.

Hesitating for a second, but you’re already here. Too late to turn back now, you’re certain he’s already aware of your presence. You shrug out of your coat, hanging it on the iron coat rack in the entryway. You’re crouching, unlacing your slush-stained boots when you hear him.

"Bruce? I thought you'd be out until-" Alfred's words halt, as he appears from the left wing. Dressed warmly in a woolen fishermans sweater, a book tucked under his arm as he adjusts his glasses.

"Hi." You smile, "Is it okay that I stopped by?"

You were there often enough, once or twice a week. One of Bruce's college friends, though your time had only overlapped for a year, and you had been graduating. But then came grad school, and you kept running into each other, and a friendship had formed.

His brow furrows, though not unkindly, "You are always welcome. I’m afraid that Bruce is still out, though. I'm not sure when he will return home."

But he's already turning, beckoning you into the den, and you're following at his heels.

"I know."

Your arms wrap around your torso -the Tower always seemed to be a little chilly. The dress you wore for New Years, something short and glittery, did not help - the tile seeming to soak right into your stockinged feet.

There's a fire going, and you're sighing as you step close to the hearth, "I came to see you."

Your appearence had surprised him a little, but he had hid it well. This though, had his brows raising, his lips parting as he glances your way - though you don't catch it.

"On New Years?" He asks, clearing his throat - taking the briefest second to soak you in, before he's noticing how you shiver, "Don't you have plans? Something with your friends?"

Wondering if you're just stopping by, if you'd be leaving - now that you know.

"I saw them already." Your cheeks are warmed by the heat of the fire, a prickle in your toes as you wiggle them, "I saw Bruce, too. A couple times."

Turning to smile at him, where he stands stiffly next to the tufted couch, "He made sure to tell me each time how you were staying in, tonight. How lonely you looked when he left, up in this Tower. I couldn't have that."

His look turns flat, a flicker of annoyance across his features, "I am far from lonely, I assure you."

But you wonder if that's true. You wonder a lot of things, like the looks Bruce had given you earlier as he told you - as if he had peered into your mind.

Figuring out your wishes. Your little crush.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to entertain an old man."

His words make you want to laugh, you teeth sinking into you lip to hold it back. Oh, how much you'd like to do just that.

Instead, you move to the other end of the couch, flopping down onto it. Smiling up at him, "I wanted to stop by, anyways. Thought it sounded nice."

It feels too close to a confession, so you deflect with a yawn, "Besides, it's freezing out there. My feet are killing me from all the walking."

This gets him - the little nudge to his nuturing side, giving him something to do.

"You stay there, then. Get comfortable, and I'll be right back."

———

He returns with things that you enjoy, carefully tucked away in his mind from years of observation. A mug of cocoa, a large, navy sherpa blanket from the hall closet, one of his cardigans. A pair of thick woolen socks.

It's like a second Christmas, shrugging into the sweater that smells like him. A moan of approval and relief as you tug on the socks, pulling them up to your shins. The blanket gets tucked around you, your fingers wrapping around the warm mug - as he eases into his seat at the other end of the couch.

Passing you the remote to flip through channels - and you notice how his book he was carrying around remains discarded on the side table. Politeness perhaps, but he’s read in front of you before.

Part of you hoping that it’s a sign your presence really is welcome.

Skipping over half-finished movies, reality television. Finally picking one of the local stations covering the downtown celebrations - the camera zooming in on the stage set up where they’re playing live music, interviewing famous guests in town for the evening.

It’s comfortable, an easy silence as you watch, the occasional laugh. A bit of time passing as you sip on your cocoa, curled into the couch. The bright crackle of the fire, where you can both feel the curls of heat from the couch. Before he’s remembering - his hand catching your attention as he pats his thigh.

For a wild second you think he’s meaning for you to sit on his lap, the thought one that was very welcome - just unexpected.

“You said your feet were killing you.” He explains, and your eyes widen in surprise, “It’s the least I can do, seeing as you walked here to see me.”

“Oh, I couldn’t-” You’re protesting, though it’s half-hearted at best.

“Come here.” He’s interrupting firmly, catching the edge of your toes beneath the blanket, your leg stretching out willingly.

You groan when his fingers press into the arch, the sound wanton and unashamed. It’s feels incredible - your other leg reaches out, resting your socked foot on the thick muscle of his thigh.

Working the muscles loose with skillful touches, aching careful not to tickle you. It sends your heart flipping in your chest, unable to help your peeks in his direction - watching his profile, the light from the television reflecting off his glasses.

It feels… comfortable.

Like this is any other night, one that’s happened a hundred times before, and would happen a hundred time after. An easy sort of silence and companionship.

The realization is something you wish you had time to examine a little more closely, if your eyelids weren’t slowly getting heavier, the cardigan a warm cloud around you.

“If you fall asleep, shall I wake you at midnight?” He asks, a teasing edge to his voice that has your eyes cracking open.

“I’m not sleeping.” You retort, though the lazy yawn that cuts through your words indicates otherwise, “You just feel so good.”

His ears pinken, a flush to his cheeks as he smiles - though you don’t catch it in the cozy dim of the room.

Watching the coverage idly, the packed groups of people gathered close to the line of barriers for the entertainers. People-watching was pretty entertaining - plenty of costumes, the camera slowly panning back and forth across the crowd.

“Have you ever done that?” You ask - breaking the silence - your gaze lingering where the camera stopped on an embracing couple, kissing shamelessly.

“Stood downtown for hours on end in the cold?” He asks, with a reproving huff of breath, “Christ, no.”

“No.” That has you smiling, your gaze flicking towards him, “Kissing someone on New Years Eve. Right at midnight.”

“Ah.” He’s silent, a quick glance your way. A small smile, “Yes. Though it was ages ago, as you can imagine.”

“It always looked so nice.” You sigh, as the camera pans away, “I’ve never done it. It’s never worked out quite right. I was hoping to this year, but…”

The words trail off, a beat of silence as he glances down at his gold watch - thinking carefully about what he wants to say.

“There might still be time. You could go back out.” His words come slowly, “Is there… someone you have in mind?”

A tick in his jaw, as he waits - as he continues to face forward. Watching the television with unseeing eyes.

“I do.” You admit with a sigh, as his fingers halt their massaging for just a second.

Eyes that flick his way, to gauge his reaction, “I worry that he would say no, though. That he wouldn’t want me.”

His head turns at that, his hand curling around your ankle, where his fingers has just been.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” He tells you - a firmness in his voice that makes you want to believe him.

Giving you the perfect opening.

Tugging your feet from his lap, his fingers lingering for the briefest second, before you’re pushing yourself up.

“What if I was right where I wanted to be?” You ask him, and there’s the slightest crease between his eyebrows as he watches you.

As your leg curls up, as you ease a cushion closer to him, your voice soft and low as you ask, “Would you tell me no, Alfred?”

He inhales a sharp breath, the slightest widening of his eyes as they drop to your mouth. His own lips pressing together, the pink peek of his tongue as he wets them.

The answer coming as a low, honest rasp.

“Never.”

But then he’s blinking - catching himself, “But surely, wouldn’t you-”

You inch closer, emboldened - the time ticking down on the television, the new year so close at hand. Interrupting his self-sabotage as your fingers touch his wrist, the bare bit of skin where his sweater pulls up.

“I want it to be you, this year. That’s why I came. It’s been you for a long time.”

A confession at the eleventh hour.

He’s still silent, and your heart is crashing into your guts. God - this was embarrassing, throwing yourself at him, the pressure had to be enormous. Maybe his answer was only a friendly pep-talk, and you had it all wrong, and-

You’re starting to pull back with a self-conscious laugh, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair of me. You don’t have to-”

But he’s catching you then, hands that find your elbows. Tugging you until you’re straddling him, a little gasp in your throat as you find yourself as you had just daydreamed earlier that night - perched on his strong thighs.

Eyes locked on each others, low panting breaths at the countdown begins. His hands on your hips, fingers pressing into the hard, glittery sequins as your own curl into his soft sweater.

“10, 9, 8-”

Your eyes are dropping to his mouth, the curve of his lips, the salt-and-pepper of his neat beard.

“7-6-5-”

His eyes still on yours - a final check that you do want this - reading your tells in the way you cling to him, the eager heave of your chest.

“4-3-2-”

Your eyes close.

He leans.

“1.”

Alfred mouth is warm against yours, the press of his lips firm. You melt, your breath caught in your throat. A flip in your chest, and then a warmth blooming lower. Fingers curling in his sweater as your nose brushes against his, as you find yourself clinging to him.

A soft moan in your throat as his grip on you tightens, pulling you closer. Deepening the kiss with a brush of his tongue, your lips parting eagerly for him - the sounds of the celebrating fading out to nothing.

Your eyes half-lidded when you eventually pull back, tongue caught between your teeth as you grin.

Even better than you had thought - better than any of your daydreams.

“Happy New Years, Alfred.”

His lips are parted, murmuring his own, breathless, “Happy New Years, darling” back.

Before his hand is coming up to cup your jaw-

And he’s pulling you back in for another.

(no pressure tags - @andrewrussgarfield, @luxuryberzatto, @obiknights, @stargirlfics, @squidlywiddly87, @maskhoper, @madamepoelzig, @hiddlebatchedloki)

#wwdilfcember #alfred pennyworth x reader

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backlogbooks · 2 years ago

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Weekly Reading Update 5

Hey! We made it through january! One month closer to spring for me

So looking back on the whole month instead of just last week, it’s been a pretty good year so far! I’m really liking my new posting schedule thing, i love a structure, and it’s keeping me mindful of how much or how little time i set aside for fun reading as grad school kicks into gear. (I’m sure you’re all going to get tired of hearing about grad school every week but i cant stop, it’s my focus until May 12th)

I did the Storygraph January pages challenge & managed to keep my streak for the whole month! Aside from that, I’ve “met” my 1 book goal for storygraph and for the tbrbusterchallenge lol, so everything from here on out is extra. It’s taken the math out of reading for me (no more “1 book behind” or “2 books ahead”) so now I’m just focusing on enjoying myself.

Books i read this month (my favorites in purple): Below by Laurel Hightower, How to Read Now by Elaine Castillo, Eat the Rich by Sarah Gailey, Standing Again At Sinai by Judith Plaskow, Such Sharp Teeth by Rachel Harrison, The Cabin At The End Of The World by Paul Tremblay, The Gospel of Wellness by Rina Raphael, and Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn

Library books checked out: 15

Currently reading: Clown in a Cornfield, The Path of Daggers, When You Reach Me, The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For

#2023 reading diary #mary emma's posts

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kays-musings · 2 years ago

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I posted 212 times in 2022

That's 74 more posts than 2021!

11 posts created (5%)

201 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@desultory-suggestions

@gushuwa

@brillianq

@studyblrenrose

I tagged 20 of my posts in 2022

#studyblr - 11 posts

#phd student - 9 posts

#gradblr - 8 posts

#studyspo - 7 posts

#trans studyblr - 7 posts

#study inspo - 5 posts

#musicology - 4 posts

#grad studyblr - 4 posts

#march productivity challenge - 3 posts

#studyinspo - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 54 characters

#thats a very aesthetic keyboard and mouse combination!

My Top Posts in 2022:

Spent a couple hours at the local cafe and enjoyed a vanilla latte while doing my German homework. Got called “man” a couple times too which was a plus! 🏳️‍⚧️ 🇩🇪

11 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Working on my second grant proposal, this time for summer funding for a conference paper. I’m writing about nonbinary interpretations of music. This is a 1922 piece by Arnold Schoenberg about a person who is seen both as a man and a woman who turns into an angel. The piece is based on a Balzac novel, Seraphita. This was my third time working at this cafe, I like it so far. I always sit outside and usually get either a hot or iced vanilla latte.

15 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

Decided to go to this little park to get some work done. It is a beautiful, sunny day! ☀️ Read and analyzed the libretto of this oratorio by Schoenberg. The work is mainly focused on religious ideas and seems to be an amalgam of an understanding of Christianity and Buddhism.

9th March: Do you know how to cook? What's your favourite thing to make? On that note, what's your favourite thing to eat?

I’m decent at chopping things but I have ADHD so I find it difficult to keep all the different steps and little numbers in my head while cooking so I don’t really seek it out (one tablespoon of this and this other thing is browning on the stove and this other thing takes 5 minutes so I need to remember to set a timer...etc.) I sometimes make spinach daal and it comes out pretty well. My favorite thing to eat is Ethiopian food, especially beets and lentils (they’re spiced super well!)

Also I’m behind so:

4th March: What's your usual cafe order? is it always the same or do you try new things?

Vanilla Latte either iced or hot depending on the weather. Sometimes I get a hot chocolate if I’m trying to stay away from caffeine...

18 notes - Posted March 9, 2022

Did some archival work with a copy of a handwritten unfinished score from 1917. And later writing an abstract for a conference and trying to get it under 350 words!

23 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

1st March: What are your goals for this month? What's something you're looking forward to?

I know it’s the 6th but I just found this challenge. My best friend is coming to town to visit me for a week so I’m hoping to make the most out of that and go see some things in town and have fun. I also am having a bottom surgery consult in person so I need to make some decisions and be prepared for that which means I’m going to spend the next couple of therapy sessions talking about it. In terms of school, I just need to get through this quarter which means finishing all my German homework and my final and then designing a whole undergraduate course based on trauma studies. I need to be able to present on that a week from now. So those are my main goals.

38 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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here2bbtstrash · 3 years ago

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HI! I wanted to say I love your idol joonie one shot I enjoyed reading it it was amazing. If only the OC can be invited on tour and ride him backstage before he starts the show.

five minutes (explicit)

genre: smutty lil drabble!! and me popping my request cherry >:)

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: your fuckbuddy has a graduation gift for you, but he might have overestimated your self-control.

this is a companion fic to my oneshot park and ride! read that one first if you want to get all the references, or don't, i'm not your mom

word count: 2.6k

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ idol verse, fuckbuddies, semi-public sex (aka a quickie in the green room), fingering, unprotected sex, dick-riding, dirty talk, squirting, a 3 second blowjob, joon's dick is still Very Big, ft. tiny cameos from JK and yoongi

A/N: remember when i said i would write this later, i LIED, i'm a LIAR, i wrote it NOW because i really liked the idea (and i was super bored while traveling). ask and you shall receive anon, i hope this is what you were looking for!!!! 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

You’re enjoying a quiet Friday night in, basking in the glow of not having to stress about homework for the first time in two years, when a familiar number pops up on your phone.

“So, how does it feel to be done with grad school?” You’re surprised to hear him ask. Maybe the bar is in hell, but his own schedule is busy enough, you didn’t think he’d have the brain space to remember yours, too. “I know you worked hard for it. I’m proud of you.”

“Yep, I finally got my stupid piece of paper.” You say dryly. “Maybe now I can actually get paid enough to get a new car.”

You swear you can hear him smile on the other end of the phone. “Pretty soon you won’t even need me anymore.”

“I thought we discussed last time that I keep you around for one specific reason.” You can’t help yourself. “A very big reason.”

Namjoon laughs softly. “Well, maybe this will help my case. I got you a graduation present.”

Now he’s surprised you twice in under a minute. “I– what?”

“Did you know we have a stop on this tour that’s right by you?”

You do know. The tickets had sold out in approximately four seconds, if your Twitter feed was any indication. You didn’t even try for one; you’re so broke you’d only be able to afford nosebleeds at best anyway, and the thought of being that close but that far from him makes your heart sink in a way you can’t quite understand.

“So I’ve heard. Am I gonna be your Uber driver again?”

“I probably won’t be able to get away, unfortunately.” He says, and you nod, leaning back against the cushions of your couch. Hearing that phrase never sucks any less, but you’re used to it. He’s a busy guy. Sex is nowhere near the top of the priorities list.

“But,” he continues, “I did get you a ticket, if you want it.”

The revelation shocks you, and your stomach turns a little. Better seats would be great, especially for free, but you have other reasons for not being an avid concert-goer.

Namjoon is an incredible performer, they all are, but the thought of standing in a massive crowd where people next to you are loudly obsessing over his thighs and his chest has never sounded particularly appealing. It’s not jealousy; you understand as well as anyone that he’s an attractive man, it’s just… it’s weird.

“Joon,” you start, with no idea how you’re supposed to phrase this. Who turns down a free ticket to a BTS concert?

“It’d be backstage in VIP, okay? I promise, the screaming isn’t so bad there.” Backstage? Your head swims. He pauses for a second, but can clearly tell you’re not convinced, and his tone softens. “I hated the thought of being so close to you and not doing anything about it. I really just want to see you, even if we can’t…” he clears his throat with a half-laugh. “You know, go for a drive.”

You absolutely do not feel like a VIP, but your heart jumps at the thought of seeing him before you can tell it not to.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll be there.”

He can only chat for a few more minutes before he’s pulled away for the next thing on his schedule. After you hang up, you slide entirely off your couch and onto the floor in a daze, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

~*~

It turns out attending a concert as a VIP guest is not that far off from your well-worn hotel ritual. You go through the familiar motions, flashing various people your ID and the badge around your neck, and you receive a security escort through the network of hallways that lead into the heart of the stadium.

At security’s direction, you hang a left, past a room where you see racks upon racks of clothes ready and waiting for quick changes, and you’re so distracted that you nearly collide into Jungkook. His eyes widen. “Oh, hi!”

You’ve met most of the members in passing– it’s sort of hard not to– but you’ve always had a particular soft spot for JK. It might have something to do with the time he voluntarily sexiled himself to Taehyung and Jimin’s room for a night so that Namjoon could invite you over. A true friend.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say with a nervous smile.

“It’s good to see you! Namjoon said you were coming. He’s in the green room if you’re looking for him.” He gestures to a door at the end of the hallway, and you thank him as your pulse starts to race.

You gently push the door open and peek in. Namjoon is sitting alone at a chair in front of the vanity mirror, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs. He has headphones on, and his fingers are steepled, pressed to his lips. He’s clearly deep in thought, and a feeling washes over you like you shouldn’t be here, like maybe you should just turn around.

But then he glances over and sees you standing there, and his whole face lights up, those killer dimples on full display.

He slips his headphones off as you step inside; you can’t close the distance between the two of you fast enough. You loop your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, and then you squeak as your feet leave the ground when he fully picks you up.

“Hi,” he says against your ear with a laugh, and when your feet make contact with the floor again, you push up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands at the small of your back. Kissing Namjoon standing up doesn’t happen often, and it’s enough to give you a head rush.

His lips linger on yours as his hands travel gently downwards, and then he makes a noise of surprise against your mouth and pulls away.

“Oh my god,” he groans softly, pinching the fabric of your new favorite skirt between his fingers. “You did this on purpose.”

You can’t hide your wicked smile. “It’s possible. You did say you liked it, if I recall correctly.”

You lose your composure as his hands slip under your skirt to grab your ass. You inhale sharply, thankful that you’re alone. Namjoon’s mouth drops to your neck. “God, I wish we had more time,” he groans against your skin.

You should behave. The fact that you can see him and touch him should be more than enough, and you should just be grateful. But he really does make you insatiable. “I can be quick if you can,” you murmur against his ear.

His life-ruiningly big dick hardens against your thigh; you can feel every inch of it straining against the fabric of his pants, and you shift to grind your core against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses. Arousal floods through you at the notion of how close he is, the fact that only a few layers of clothes separate him from where you need him most. You’re already soaked, ready for all of him.

You hear a grunt and a shifting sound from behind you and nearly jump out of your skin, quickly leaping back to put some space between you and Namjoon. When you turn towards the source, you realize that you completely missed Yoongi, asleep on the green room couch.

Namjoon winces when you whip your head back to glare accusingly at him. “Sorry. I totally forgot he was there.”

You fix him in your gaze for a second, but you’re honestly too horny to stay mad. “To be fair, you were distracted.”

“Still am,” he grunts, running a hand over the front of his pants. You can only imagine the internet-wide panic that would ensue if he went out onstage this hard. The dick print blogs would have a field day. You’re frozen in place, ridiculously turned on but also starting to feel guilty for putting him in this predicament.

Namjoon crosses to the sofa, one hand slipping into his pants to tuck his erection into his waistband.

“Hyung,” he whispers, giving the couch a light kick.

Yoongi grunts again, but doesn’t move, eyes still closed.

“Hyung, I need the room for a minute.”

At this, he finally cracks an eye open. “Hmm?”

“Can you nap somewhere backstage?”

Yoongi squints at both of you as he slowly sits up. He looks pissed– although he kind of always looks like that, so maybe that’s just his face– but seems to realize he can get back to sleep faster if he doesn’t waste time on an argument.

He yawns as he shuffles out of the room, turning over his shoulder in the open doorway. “Just so you know, you’ve got like, five minutes.” Then he slams the door behind him.

Namjoon doesn’t waste even a second, instantly pulling you to him and finding your lips with his, tongue sweeping into your mouth. You let him guide you backwards until you’re pressed up against the green room door, and you hear the lock click.

His lips move to your neck again, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Can you do five minutes, baby?”

“Y-yes,” your answer turns into a whine as his hand brushes over your panties, and you spread your legs to give him more room. He pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side, and when he slips two fingers into your cunt, you both groan: you at the pleasure, and him at how little resistance there is when he pushes in.

“Fuck, you really want me, huh?” Namjoon practically growls into your ear, and you whimper open-mouthed as he curls his fingers inside you. He shifts and you can feel him pressed hard against your thigh, and your knees nearly buckle. “You want to take all of this?”

“God, yes.” You think you’ll die if you don’t.

He hesitates for just a second, clearly weighing some option in his head. Then he groans in your ear again. “Will you ride me, baby?”

You can’t even speak, but when he sees you nod, it’s enough. Pressing you up against the door, he lifts your legs to wrap around his waist, and then his hands move to cup your ass and pull you to him. He lifts you up and carries you like that across the room, his still-clothed erection grinding into your core. Your desire is almost painful now, you want him so bad.

He settles on the couch with you in his lap, and you lean forward on your knees so that he can fumble to undo his belt and pull his pants and boxers down.

There’s no time for the teasing you’re both so fond of, but you don’t feel like you could last a single second longer without him inside you. When you pull your panties to the side again so you can sink down on him, it’s fucking perfect, and you can’t hold back a moan of relief.

“Shit, baby,” Namjoon groans. His head drops against the couch and his hand is already on your clit in steady circles. The urgency just makes everything hotter.

You rock up and down along his length, and you’re so fucking wet that he easily bottoms out inside you, hitting the spot that makes you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp. Your arousal coils tight inside you, the pressure already building.

Namjoon’s fingers work you expertly, and he knows your mind just as well as your body. He knows the fastest way to get you to come is with his words, and he doesn’t hold back, his hips starting to rock up into you.

“You take my cock so well, baby, fuck. This tight little pussy was made just for me, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine with every thrust.

“Mine to have whenever I want, wherever I want. Always so fucking wet and ready for me, so desperate to take it all like a good girl.”

You whimper loudly in agreement. His cock, his hands, his voice, it’s all too much. He can feel your walls start to flutter and that only makes him thrust and circle his fingers faster, and your moans are nearly sobs now.

“That’s it, baby. Soak yourself for me. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out as the pressure inside you swells and bursts, and you can feel the rush of fluid as it splashes over him and the couch beneath you.

Namjoon groans beneath you at the feeling, and you thank god he has the awareness and the strength to lift you up off of him, because it fully escaped you that he never put a condom on.

He strokes himself fast and hard, clearly just shy of his own end, and even now, you still can’t get enough. You drop to your knees on the floor and practically shove his legs apart so you can take him in your mouth, your cunt still quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Holy shit,” he gasps as you bob up and down, sloppy and fast. When you swallow him down, gagging slightly, his hips buck against your mouth, and you take it all with a whimper as he comes down your throat.

You make sure to work every drop out of him before you pull off, sitting back on your heels and wiping at your mouth. You watch Namjoon as he collapses against the couch, breathing heavy and smiling wide. He runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you, clearly still trying to recover.

“You,” he says with a gasp, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You beam at the compliment, and you stand up on shaking legs, reaching down to awkwardly adjust your underwear back in place. At his request, you circle around him to assess the damage as he pulls his pants up.

It occurs to you only in hindsight that attempting a mess-free quickie with a girl who squirts is quite the lofty goal, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of it on his clothes. The couch cushion, however, was not so lucky. You both giggle at the wet spot as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think we’re at five,” you murmur, but he tilts your jaw up anyway, his lips finding yours for one more kiss.

He reluctantly walks you towards the door. “I gotta go get my mic, but if you head backstage to the left, there’s a spot where you can watch the show.” He presses his lips to your forehead one more time. “I’ll make it a good one for you.”

You laugh as he opens the door. “I’ll be watching, so you better not fuck up the choreo!”

For the second time tonight, you nearly run face-first into Jungkook. “Ah, sorry! Is my phone in here?” He shoves past you both and lets out a sigh of relief as he retrieves it from the vanity counter.

You give Namjoon a final smile and then head towards backstage, but you’re still in earshot to hear Jungkook ask, “What happened to the couch? Hyung, did you spill something?”

You press your hand to your mouth to hold the laughter in.

The show is even better than you thought it would be, and though you might just be imagining it, you swear Namjoon’s hip thrusts are a little more enthusiastic than usual.

A/N: i wrote this in like 30 minutes (so it is quite literally a quickie on a quickie) so if this is slightly lower quality than my usual, don't roast me!!! but i had so much fun revisiting these two!! hope you enjoyed, would love a comment or review if you did 💜 and i'm always tentatively open to requests, tho i have very little control over what will spark the muse lol. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD THE ACTUAL NEXT THING I POST WILL BE LDOMLT 🙈 thanks for reading!!!!!

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #fic request #anonymous #five minutes

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lacontroller1991 · 3 years ago

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Mr. and Mrs. Flag (Rick Flag x Fem!Reader)

Requested by @myownworldsstuff : Rick Flag and Reader where they are married with Mr. and Mrs. Smith vibes

@h-hxgirl @artemis-cr0ck

Author's Note: I think the title is very fitting 😁

Warnings: Mention of child loss, mentions of abortion, language

The smell of homemade spaghetti entered Rick’s nostrils as he walked through the threshold into his shared home with you, his wife. Hearing the door open, you quickly wiped your palms on your apron before rushing to greet him.

“Hey baby, how was work?” You asked as he set down a briefcase before pulling you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Work’s work, I had clients all the way up my ass today, bitching about how their stocks are plummeting,” he replied as you hummed, giving him a smile before pulling away. You knew he wasn’t a stock marketer. You knew he worked with some of the world’s most dangerous criminals. In any case, you were there to gather any intel you managed to scrape up for the CIA. What you didn’t expect was to slowly love him along the way. The CIA had warned you not to do what you did, saying that he was just a mission, but to you he became more than that. He became your best friend. He became your lover.

“Well, dinner is ready. Your favorite,” you whispered against his ear as you tugged against his blazer.

“You know me so well.”

You two ate in silence aside from the occasional slurp of noodles and guzzle of wine.

“So, how was your day?” He asked as you twirled the stem of your wine glass between your thumb and index finger, desperately wanting to tell him about how your day really was. As far as he knew, or so you thought, you were a kindergarten teacher at the local school.

“It was alright, I had 5 kids not wanting to take a nap, and 3 of them being rowdy as always. Even though I teach kids, I still don’t want one,” you mentioned as he let out a small chuckle before silence cascaded over the room. Your eyes locked with his as he cleared his throat.

“Listen, sweetheart, I got something to tell you.”

“No, I do too,” you replied, hands fidgeting underneath the table. Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this was Rick you were telling. Someone you actually care for. You both paused for a moment, urging the other to speak; however, that was put on hold as you saw something glisten in the moonlight out of the corner of your eye before noticing that it was quiet. Too quiet, you thought to yourself before a rain of bullets ripped through the window. Falling to the floor, you glanced over to Rick who too, looked over to you.

“I’m a secret agent.”

“I do special ops,” you both said at the same time, his news not new to you, but yours was to him.

“For how long?” He asked loudly, army crawling to a secret stash of guns as you copied his movements, reaching for your own.

“15 years,” you stated, loading some guns and grabbing a couple of knives as he cocked some guns.

“Shit. You’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

“Rick, you have been too, this is not the time and place for this conversation. There’s a secret door in the kitchen that will lead to the sewer, we can make it out of here,” you mentioned as he glared at you with mistrust in his eyes before giving in and nodding. Crawling your way to the secret door, you quickly stood up and shot your gun in the general vicinity of the advancing adversaries before you went down the stairs into the small basement with Rick following you. Turning to open the lid, you were stopped as a body was pressed against you and a gun to your temple. Staring into his hazel eyes, you noticed slight flecks of green and brown that you had come to love.

“How can I trust you?” He seethed as you didn’t try to fight back.

“Rick, if I was here to kill you, I would’ve. I’m an agent, yes, but I wasn’t assigned to kill you. Please, let’s just get to safety before we go into this,” you begged as he nodded, opening the lid to the sewer before jumping in, trying to not gag at the stench. Turning on the flashlight, you and Rick made your way through the tunnels before you found the exit you designated for something like this. Climbing up the ladder, you looked behind you to make sure he was following you, and when you saw he was, you opened the hatch and climbed out into the crisp autumn night. Climbing out after you, he looked at you, feelings confused as to what to do with you.

“You got a safe house?” He asked as you nodded, starting to walk the way of the house before he grabbed your arm and shook his head.

“It might be safer if we went to Belle Reve.”

“Show me the way.”

----------

Stepping out of the shower, you wringed out your hair with a towel as you made your way into the small room with an office attached to it.

“So this is where you sleep on the nights you can’t come home,” you quipped as he shot you a glare, cleaning the water off of his guns.

“Home,” he scoffed, clicking the barrel back into place, “what a joke.” Sighing, you took a seat next to him, flinching as he moved away from you.

“That’s what it is for me,” you tried to reason as he glared at you again, trying to remain stoic and not heartbroken that the love of his life is secretly an undercover agent.

“What am I to you?” His voice hoarse from the yelling and then the silent treatment. Placing a small hand on his shoulder, you were surprised when he didn’t move to remove it.

“My husband.”

“No, what am I to you? A target? A mission? Decoy?”

“Mission,” you muttered meekly as he ran a hand over his face before you continued, “4 years ago, the CIA debriefed me on you. West Point Grad. Special Ops officer. Leader of Task Force X. The latter being what they were concerned with. They wanted me to gather whatever I could on your team and report back to them. And for the first year, I did. I went through all of your records on your computers and then some, but what they didn’t count on was that…,” you hesitated for a moment, twirling your thumbs as he waited for you to continue, “...what I didn’t count on was that I would fall in love with you. Yes, you were my mission, but what I feel for you is real. Hell, those assholes who were shooting at us were probably after me,” you finished as you took a breath, feeling his calculating eyes scope you out, trying to tell if what you were saying was real or not.

“Why would they be shooting at you,” came out his gruff question as you turned your head to focus on him.

“Probably found out the information I supplied was falsified. The first year of information was all correct, but once I realized that I did, in fact, love you and was not clouded by hormones, I stopped providing correct information.”

“Why would you be clouded by hormones?”

“I was pregnant,” you whispered, moving to clutch your stomach where the baby died inside of you.

“What?” Rick asked, scooting closer to you, not sure if he heard you correctly.

“I was pregnant with your kid. The CIA found out and terminated the pregnancy,” admitting the horrors of what the agency did to you brought up memories of the procedure. Your eyes filled with tears as you remembered the intense pain that accompanied the loss of your child.

“Shit, baby,” Rick whispered, finally letting his guard down and believing you as he watched the way your eyes glossed over. I know that look all too well, he thought before pulling you into his arms and running his hand through your hair as you broke down. Tears poured down your face as he gently shushed you, slightly rocking his body with yours.

“I’m sorry, Rick. I really am. I really do love you, you have to believe me,” you begged through sobs as he paused for a second, realizing that he didn’t care about your past and your initial mission and that all he cared about in that moment was his wife in his arms.

“It’s alright baby, I understand. We’ll make this work,” he whispered against the top of your head, rubbing circles into your back. After a while, he had moved you and him up against the bed so that you were lying against his chest as his arms wrapped themselves around you.

“Rick,” you called out from his chest. Moving to look down at you, he brushed a strand of wet hair from your face.

“Yeah baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” kissing the top of your head, he rubbed your back again as he listened to your breathing become quiet and unnoticeable. Noting that you had fallen asleep, he took the opportunity to shut his eyes and let his mind carry him into a dull slumber.

Author’s Note: AHHH Hope you enjoy!!!

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emerald-chaos · 4 years ago

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Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

#eeeeeeee #i love soft drunk boston frat chris so much it pains me #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans headcanons #chris evans imagines #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans/reader #chris evans/you #fluff #imagines #headcanons

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kikithegr8 · 2 years ago

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This is for all the LITG season 5 fans that can’t justify going back to a cheating ex or that hate Suresh and think he cheated because he’s a narcissistic player. As the President of the Suresh clown fan club I felt I needed some answers myself. Here’s what I came up with:

Heart of Glass Part 1 mood board by @csmicletters

Bellamy, originally from London, was a grad student pursuing her psychology degree at the University of Edinburgh. She figured she needed the change of scenery and would come back to London to use what she learned to serve her community. The break from friends and family would be tough but she was ready to try something new, at least for a little while.

Orientation starts and Suresh asks a question garnering the attention from everyone in the room. As Bellamy turns to listen and Suresh awaits the response, his green eyes glance momentarily at Bellamy. As soon as their eyes met her heart began to pound in her chest. This may be the most beautiful man she’s ever seen in real life. His voice was deep, soothing and confident. The BDE he was giving off was ever apparent. There was an instant attraction that she was almost fearful of. She normally likes to be in control of herself but she instinctually knew she couldn’t trust herself around him. Male attention has never been her struggle but in her previous relationships she’s always had the upper hand. It’s safer that way. She thought “I need to stay as far away from this man as possible because I would allow him to ruin my life”. She quickly broke eye contact and avoided interaction with Suresh for the rest of orientation.

In the next month or so she became well acquainted with her team and their projects. It was recommended that she participate in a couple working groups within the hospital. Apparently this is what they recommend to all the newbies because it wasn’t long before she was attending a weekly meeting with Suresh. After a while a few of the new members started going to lunch together a couple times a week. Strengthened by the company of her peers, Bellamy was able to confidently show off her intelligence, wit, charisma and sense of humor among the group.

On one fateful day no one was available for lunch except Suresh. He was developing feelings for Bellamy but he wasn’t quite sure what they were. These feelings were unlike how he’d felt about women in the past. Bellamy was attractive but conservative, which isn’t usually his type. She made him feel a little insecure, like the ways he normally tried to impress women wouldn’t work. He found himself less occupied with trying to impress her and more focused on enjoying her conversation. She was smart and inspired him to think about things in a way he previously hadn’t. She could also make him laugh to tears. He was intrigued, but she hadn’t let on that she was romantically interested or that she would get involved with someone at the hospital. Still, on dates with other women he couldn’t help but to think about Bellamy and figured maybe he should do something about it.

Meanwhile, Bellamy couldn’t think of an excuse quick enough to avoid a one on one lunch with Suresh. Lately she found herself thinking about him ALL THE TIME. The way he walked, the way he smiled, the way he smelled and how he made her feel. Bellamy was fiercely independent but somehow Suresh made her feel like maybe she didn’t have to be. He may come off a little cocky at times, but is it cocky if you can back it up? Turns out he wasn’t just some frat boy hot shot lawyer he was actually pretty cool. However, she was concerned she wouldn’t be able to keep her cool at lunch and either she’d embarrass herself, or worse, reveal her secret crush somehow. It turns out lunch went fine. In fact it was better than fine. In the hospital parking lot out of the blue Suresh asked “So what does a guy have to do to take you on a date?” Bellamy couldn’t hold back her smile. “In general, just ask I guess” she responded, trying to come off casual. “What about me specifically?” Suresh asked looking into her eyes intently. Trying to calm her nerves with humor she announced “Oh, well in that case, hop on one foot and bark like a dog, then ask.” Suresh proceeded to hop on one foot before Bellamy stopped him for fear of public embarrassment at work. “Please stop. Seriously, how about I give you my number and we can discuss this further, away from the hospital.”, she suggested.

Over the next several weeks they talk on the phone for hours most nights before Bellamy finally agreed to a group date. Bellamy, taking every precaution worried if she was left alone with Suresh outside of the hospital she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to pounce. Suresh was able to meet her friends and experience her silly, outgoing, and even competitive side that he liked even more. Her friends approved and basically wanted her to let loose for once and give into her urges because he was gorgeous - and a lawyer. With that in mind their next date was planned for the weekend and was one on one.

Suresh planned for an evening of live music followed by dinner at one of the most popular restaurants in the city. Bellamy explained that she doesn’t let her dates know where she lives until the third date just in case they are weirdos so she would meet him at the venue (this would also prevent her from inviting him inside her flat). As Suresh eagerly waited in his car because he didn’t want to seem too thirsty (which he was), he notices what may be the sexiest woman he’s ever seen (and he’s come across quite a few). Her thigh high red patent leather stiletto boots seemed to go on for miles. Her matching patent leather mini skirt fully accentuated every curve and barely left anything to the imagination. She paired it with a vintage band t shirt that appeared to be for the band they were about to see. Her waist length curly hair flowed in the wind and her makeup was flawless as if she was a walking billboard for what she did for a makeup artist. She looked like a total rock star. She made eye contact with Suresh and a smile appeared on her face as if she caught Suresh checking her out. He quickly stopped staring and realized he was there to meet Bellamy. The temptation to pursue Miss Red-patent-leather-stiletto-thigh-high-boots was fierce, but he wanted to get off on the right foot for this date. As Suresh exited the car he notices this mystery woman walking towards him. He looks around frantically worried that Bellamy may get the wrong idea if she sees him talking to someone like her. As she moves closer he realizes this mystery woman is indeed Bellamy. Suresh is in shock. He realizes he’s never seen her with her hair down, or with more than minimal make up. She’s typically all buttoned up in a suit at the hospital. Even on the group date she was dressed a bit like a tomboy (which he thought was surprisingly kind of adorable) because it was a sporting event. Suresh was grinning from ear to ear feeling like he just won the lottery. “Wow, Bellamy. I almost didn’t recognize you.” “Um, thanks I think. I figured I’d switch things up. You don’t think this is too much?” “Absolutely not, you look perfect!” “Good, perfect is exactly the look I was going for.”

They had the best time singing along, dancing, and having a couple drinks at the show. Suresh loved all the looks Bellamy was getting from men and women alike impressed by her beauty. She could put supermodels to shame. They rode together to the restaurant laughing and recapping their favorite moments from the evening. They walk into the restaurant with reservations avoiding the long line and hours long wait. A colleague from his legal team was able to hook him up. They sit at the table across from each other staring into each other’s eyes. Something has shifted and the sexual tension is so thick you can cut it with a knife. Suresh is rather enjoying it but Bellamy is still trying to stay in control. “So tell me about your worst first date.” Bellamy asks trying to break up the tension. “Hmm…oh yeah, I went on a first date with this one girl and it turned out she had a boyfriend. Somehow he finds out where we are and decides to come pick a fight with me. He’s considerably smaller than me so I’m just trying to keep him off me, then out of no where the girl starts swinging her purse at me because she sees her boyfriend embarrassing himself. I grabbed her purse and tossed it away and just walked off. She later left a voicemail message and said she was sorry, she was just trying to make him jealous and thank you, because it worked. It was the most bizarre experience ever.” “I don’t think I’ll be able to top that one!” Bellamy exclaimed with her eyes practically popping out of her head. “Try me.” Suresh responded flirtatiously. ”OK well, there was this one time while I was in undergrad that I went on a date with a boy from one of my classes. It was right before a long weekend and he offered to drop me off at my parents house. Of course my parents always want to be introduced to who I’m dating just in case they need to pick him out in a lineup. Anyway the date went really well and we went back to introduce him to my parents and that’s when I found out that he was my cousin. I was so embarrassed.” “It’s not your fault. Did you kiss him?” “Actually no, luckily I don’t kiss on the first date…” Suresh seems visibly disappointed. “You seem a little dejected, Suresh.” “Can you tell?” “Well technically I would consider this our second date.” She couldn’t hold back any longer. Bellamy stood up, placed her knee on the table, grabbed Suresh’s shirt and proceeded to tongue him down in front of the entire restaurant. The kiss is filled with so much passion that even though her skirt is hiked up revealing more about herself than she’d like and one of the champagne flutes crashed to the floor, she couldn’t bring herself to stop. She had been waiting entirely too long for this moment and nothing was going to ruin it. Finally after being interrupted by the waiter, they both stop to catch their breath. It was at that exact moment that Suresh realized for the first time he was falling in love and Bellamy wasn’t far behind.

#litg s5 #litg suresh #litg fanfic #litg headcanons #litg ex in the villa #litg mc #love island game #litg #litg faceclaims #litg season 5 #heart of glass

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luckyqueenreign · 2 years ago

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I’ve never written a fic before, but I find myself having to justify why I’m still a Suresh clown. What do you think?

After being accepted for an internship as a requirement for grad school, she attended orientation where she laid eyes on Suresh for the first time. Suresh is a new corporate lawyer on the hospital staff. He had missed orientation the previous month but was fairly familiar with how things worked at the hospital. Bellamy barely notices Suresh when he walks in and decides to sit next to the pretty, yet professional looking girl in the front row. He thinks to himself, “That’s the kind of woman I want to marry, but for now, I’m in these streets!” He decides not to pursue her as he normally would because she seems like the kind of woman you need to be committed to. He was almost intimidated, but still a little curious. Some might consider Suresh a player, but he doesn’t think so. He’s never actually been in a relationship, there’s too many fish in the sea. He worked really hard in grad school and played harder. Besides he’s always been completely open and honest with women about not wanting to commit. He doesn’t have to lie to get a woman into bed, he can charm the pants off of just about anyone. Orientation starts and Suresh asks a question garnering the attention from everyone in the room. As Bellamy turns to listen and Suresh awaits the response, his green eyes glance momentarily at Bellamy. As soon as their eyes met her heart began to pound in her chest. This may be the most beautiful man she’s ever seen in real life. His voice was deep, soothing and confident. The BDE he was giving off was ever apparent. There was an instant attraction that she was almost fearful of. She normally likes to be in control of herself but she instinctually knew she couldn’t trust herself around him. Male attention has never been her struggle but in her previous relationships she’s always had the upper hand. It’s safer that way. She thought “I need to stay as far away from this man as possible because I would allow him to ruin my life”. She quickly broke eye contact and avoided interaction with Suresh for the rest of orientation. In the next month or so she became well aquatinted with her team and their projects. It was recommended that she participate in a couple working groups within the hospital. Apparently this is what they recommend to all the newbies because it wasn’t long before she was attending a weekly meeting with Suresh. After a while a few of the new members started going to lunch together a couple times a week. Strengthened by the company of her peers, Bellamy was able to confidently show off her intelligence, wit, charisma and sense of humor among the group. On one fateful day no one was available for lunch except Suresh. He was developing feelings for Bellamy but he wasn’t quite sure what they were. These feelings were unlike how he’d felt about women in the past. Bellamy was attractive but conservative, which isn’t usually his type. She made him feel a little insecure, like the ways he normally tried to impress women wouldn’t work. He found himself less occupied with trying to impress her and more focused on enjoying her conversation. She was smart and inspired him to think about things in a way he previously hadn’t. She could also make him laugh to tears. He was intrigued, but she hadn’t let on that she was romantically interested or that she would get involved with someone at the hospital. Still, on dates with other women he couldn’t help but to think about Bellamy and figured maybe he should do something about it.

Suresh planned for an evening of live music followed by dinner at one of the most popular restaurants in the city. Bellamy explained that she doesn’t let her dates know where she lives until the third date just in case they are weirdos so she would meet him at the venue (this would also prevent her from inviting him inside her flat). As Suresh eagerly waited in his car because he didn’t want to seem too thirsty (which he was), he notices what may be the sexiest woman he’s ever seen (and he’s come across quite a few). Her thigh high red patent leather stiletto boots seemed to go on for miles. Her matching patent leather mini skirt fully accentuated every curve and barely left anything to the imagination. She paired it with a vintage band t shirt that appeared to be for the band they were about to see. Her waist length curly hair flowed in the wind and her makeup was flawless as if she was a walking billboard for what she did for a living. She looked like a total rock star. She made eye contact with Suresh and a smile appeared on her face as if she caught Suresh checking her out. He quickly stopped staring and realized he was there to meet Bellamy. The temptation to pursue Miss Red-patent-leather-stiletto-thigh-high-boots was fierce, but he wanted to get off on the right foot for this date. As Suresh exited the car he notices this mystery woman walking towards him. He looks around frantically worried that Bellamy may get the wrong idea if she sees him talking to someone like her. As she moves closer he realizes this mystery woman is indeed Bellamy. Suresh is in shock. He realizes he’s never seen her with her hair down, or with more than minimal make up. She’s typically all buttoned up in a suit at the hospital. Even on the group date she was dressed a bit like a tomboy (which he thought was surprisingly kind of adorable) because it was a sporting event. Suresh was grinning from ear to ear feeling like he just won the lottery. “Wow, Bellamy. I almost didn’t recognize you.” “Um, thanks I think. I figured I’d switch things up. You don’t think this is too much?” “Absolutely not, you look perfect!” “Good, perfect is exactly the look I was going for.”

Loved it 🥰❤️💕 so cute! Loved your take on how they met.

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pharmdup · 3 years ago

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so, alright, ive followed your blog for a while because it's really interesting! i'm two years into a general biology degree, and ive been trying to figure out what i want to do with it. turns out that almost all of my classes thus far would transfer to a degree in medicinal chemistry, and ive recently been really really eyeing pharmacy as an endgoal (Pharm.D, i always intended to get a phd or doctorate eventually so it's not that much different of an expectation). is there anything you'd want to tell someone before they get into pharmacy as a career path? i enjoy working in a lab but i also think that i could do a lot of good somewhere like a hospital or clinic, or something similar. sorry for the unsolicited request for advice, feel free to ignore it!

Thank you for the follow!

I’ve gotta say, I do love being a pharmacist, and I do a lot of good in my hospital and clinic, even though the powers that be and the system in general try to prevent me from doing that good a lot of the time.

I’m a bit tired just now, and tumblr feels casual, so I’m going to give you a bullet point list of advice to see if any of this helps. I might add more later, and encourage other pharmacists to chime in.

There are too many pharmacists. The pharmacy schools are graduating many many more pharmacists than the market can bear. Wages are dropping, and pharmacists are getting laid off since it’s cheaper to hire new grads.

A decade or two ago, there was a shortage of pharmacists, so a lot of people went into pharmacy thinking that in six years they’d get a doctorate and start earning six figures. These pharmacists often really don’t care that much about pharmacy, don’t care to remain clinically adept, and they’re your peers. It can drag you down.

I really hope the students who are entering school now are doing so because they love pharmacy, just like me.

Fewer people are applying to pharmacy school, which means that you should absolutely apply to top schools, no matter how bad you think your chances are. Expect good scholarships.

Go to a public university with a long, prestigious history, and don’t even apply to a school whose NAPLEX pass rates are less than 90%.

Avoid for-profit and/or three year programs. Avoid programs that expect the student to arrange their own rotations like the plague.

How easily you understand your biochemistry class will predict how well you do in pharmacy school.

In general, there’s a culture among healthcare professionals to bully pharmacists. Prescribers are often not inclined to welcome your help. Nurses think we’re idiots and will make fun of us to our faces as if we’re not human beings. You’ll be faced with a lot of ethical quandaries about protecting a patient when their doctor hangs up the phone on you. You’ll have to decide if you can be emotionally resilient in the face of that. I happen to enjoy subtly manipulating prescribers (many of whom are my friends now), and I like imagining I’m the underdog hero, saving the day for my patients despite the slings and arrows from the other health professions, so it works out.

Do everything that you can to avoid working in a retail chain pharmacy. Intern at a hospital. Work for an independent pharmacy. Do a residency. Pharmacy can shatter all of our souls, but retail chains do it quickly while putting patients at risk.

If you want to work in a hospital or clinic, or maybe even something unusual like a drug info service, poison control, etc, consider making board certification a goal, to maintain your competency and to show what you’ve worked toward. Residency is the easiest way to get this, but you don’t have to.

Right now, see if you can shadow pharmacists in different practice settings to make sure it’s something you really want to do.

Nobody in the healthcare team can dispense drugs as safely and accurately as the pharmacist (though, confusingly, other healthcare professionals act as though this is a useless skill). Don’t go into pharmacy if you see yourself as only a clinical pharmacist and don’t want to take the drug dispensing bit very, very seriously. Someday, after many years of training, you may have the privilege of signing your initials on a label. You should strive to have your initials mean absolute accuracy every single time. It should mean something to you every single time, no matter how many outside pressures will try to whisper that it’s easier if you let it slide just once.

You will be the very last line of defense for the patient, and you must remain aware of that, and not allow yourself to be intimidated by how the physicians will always know the patient better than you, and will often know the science better than you. You still have to speak up, even knowing that you may sound foolish every time.

If you read all of this and still want to do it, then I hope you do. We need more pharmacists who love it, who love and have pride in our humble role, who are willing to spend their evenings looking up a few more scientific articles in the evening to help that one patient’s difficult health problems the next day.

My final thought: patients make decisions about their healthcare that often aren’t what you would choose to do, or aren’t what science would encourage them to do. The ultimate authority on what is best for a patient is always that patient. Working in healthcare places you in a role of enormous power and privilege. Patients have the right to direct choices about their own bodies and you will need to always respect that. The very best of us never disrespect the sacred trust that our patients place in us, not even when they’re not around to see it.

#pharmblr #asks

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restforthe-burdenedsoul · 2 years ago

Text

Okay I put on my logical thinking hat 🎩

I looked on indeed job postings and basically everything I’m interested in requires a masters degree. This isn’t a surprise. I don’t know what I thought would be different.

I have a few options. None of which i like, but that’s life

1) continue the same as I’m doing. Working my truancy job with kids/parents and going to school full time

Pros: I already know the job, my boss is amazing, I’m mildly adjusted, I know I can do grad school work with it, opens more doors in 14 months for jobs I like

Cons: long commute makes me lose about 2 hours a day but I don’t want to cut off the commute because if I ever get into an accident off the clock, that would suck as far as legalities go, working with kids/parents, being “the bad guy,” not utilizing the skills I went to school for, not utilizing really any skills, pretty burnt out after work for being under stimulated mentally but overstimulated from paperwork, tough to do grad work after work, not much time to do things for myself (cleaning, eating, seeeing friends, journaling … really I should be doing school work right now), mental health suffers

2) get a new job, put a hold on grad school

Pros: no longer working with parents/kids, no more school stress for now, more time to enjoy life, feeling more passionate about work

Cons: it’s unknown, pushes back the timeline on what I really want to do career wise, could be worse than my job now, maybe less pay, maybe not a good job for grad school when I go back, May end up not even going back to school

3) get a new job and continue grad school

Pros: same as above (except for the school thing), reach my career goal faster

Cons: don’t do well with transitions and could create more chaos with school, May be more or equally exhausted while trying to do grad school

4) stay with my current job, put a hold on grad school, attempt to start life coaching

Pros: stability while I try to start up a business, more passionate about life coaching, don’t need a degree to do what I really want to do, if I thrive in it I could quit my job, potentially wouldn’t need grad school

Cons: pushes back timeline on what I want to do if life coaching doesn’t work out, starting up a business is stressful, will likely be putting in a lot of hours creating a program and promoting it, unstable income if I leave my Job for life coaching , doesn’t take much to become financially in the hole

My perfect job would include:

working in the mental health field, specifically those with ADHD, anxiety, borderline, depression who are goal oriented.

Some kind of career coaching and budget/finance coaching (but not a financial advisor) and social skill building

Age 18+ clients

——

When I did case management (which is so hard to find here?!) , my favorite clients were those who were goal oriented and open to me pushing them to do things they were hesitant about.

I helped clients who were 100% dependent on our program for transportation learn to use medical transport and public transportation. They didn’t have to schedule around someone else anymore to do what they wanted to do.

I helped clients make and maintain budgets. I helped clients save up for “wants” instead of only being able to buy “needs”

I helped clients build social skills to decrease their social anxiety

I helped clients build resumes, find jobs, maintain jobs

I helped clients find acceptance of their medications and diagnoses instead of fighting against themselves in treatment

I feel like I served a purpose. But I didn’t like helping them find housing, getting yelled at by my harder clients, going into unsafe areas alone, working with clients who didn’t want help, feeling trapped and uncomfortable in client homes with verbally aggressive clients, approving when clients could take money out of their accounts, taking clients to doctor appointments, working with clients who used substances, etc.

Case management is hard work and some days I didn’t have the energy for my goal oriented clients. I know there’s a need for the things I like to do. It’s just that those jobs come with the other things I don’t like. And they pay poorly. Not enough that I could continue maintaining this apartment. We’d have to move and I don’t know where to. I couldn’t afford to live on my own at that job, not even with the second income of my ex.

—-

All I know is I’m not happy where I am right now. But all signs, when I really break it down, point to option 1. And I hate that.

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the-bat-collector · 4 years ago

Text

SUPERBAT Rec List!! AU NO POWERS ish PART 1

I love NO POWERS NO CAPES AUs but its been so hard to find them!! so decided to make this list to help y’all in your search :D

The length varies, but I prefer long fics so most of these are 10-20k up to 200k

Heart and Soul by Pandamomochan

E - 150,044

Clark Kent used to be a renowned composer who was said to be able to write masterpieces that were designed uniquely for each individual player. Famous musicians around the world would flock to him in hopes that he would write for them because his pieces were always said to bring out any player's crowning performance. That is, until one day Clark loses his wife in a tragic accident and decides never to write again.

Years later, Clark's son, Jon, gets admitted to the famous "Gotham School of Performing Arts". It is there that Clark meets Bruce Wayne, a strict, uptight, by the book piano instructor who is said to be able to craft the best musicians around the world.

this is one of my favorites. I'm not really into Hurt/Comfort but this is so beautiful!! highly recommended I'm biased cause I play the piano

Seeing Bruce Wayne by Evilpixie

E - 15,089

Clark Kent is the only male midwife working in Metropolis General. Bruce Wayne the residential pediatric surgeon.

I'm so into medicine/doctor AUs this is also one of my favorite fics!if you have to pick one from this list, pick this one!!!

On The Cusp by vesper_house

E - 47,378

Clark's life isn't going so well. He's in his thirties, he works at a coffee shop run by his old crush, his journalism career is going nowhere, and he's broke. It takes only one tall, dark and handsome stranger to change everything.

COFFE SHOP AU COFFESHOP AU!! We need more of these, the dynamic between Bruce and Clark is Great!!!!

A Game You Can't Win by NightFoliage

T - 78,328

Injustice is the hottest MMORPGs available to play! Set in a world where superpowers exist, players can become civilians, heroes, villains, and anybody in-between. Designed by Hiro “Toyman” Okamura, and Timothy Drake-Wayne, Injustice was created with the best Wayne Industries technology available and has the most human NPCs. The game is beyond it's time and is planned to be at the top of the charts for a while.

By accident, Clark finds himself pushed into the spotlight and new found fame. To him, Let’s Plays are a means to stay in touch with friends and to make money. He never got into LPing to become famous.

Bruce, who funded the game after Jason’s accident, is irritated (not jealous) that a video game player is such a big topic among the kids. After the nth time they mention him, Bruce decides to take matters into his own hands and see what all the fuss is about.

link to art

ONE OF MY FAVORITE SUPERBAT FICS OUT THERE!!!!!! this is great and fun and Clark is the best!

As We Grow by butterflyslinky

E - 23,451

Clark Kent is a farmer deep in debt to Lex Luthor.

Bruce Wayne is a billionaire with seven children and no luck in love.

But their families have a scheme to get them together and hopefully make life a little bit better.

Modern Medicine by BuckinghamAlice

G - 5,208

Pediatrician Dr. Clark Kent becomes beloved to his patients, the Wayne boys... as well as to their doting father Bruce.

ABSOLUTELY lovely and adorable, you get the feels!

Hellooooo, nurse! by weirdraccoon INCOMPLETE WIP

T - ?????

Clark enjoys his job at the Free Clinic. He loves helping people and tending injuries. Saving lives. But this man... Bruce Wayne is going to kill him if he doesn't get killed first.

Bruce is still Batman on this one but HERE ME OUT, Clark is a nurse! is incomplete but looking forward to the following chapters!!

Two Cities by EllenD

E - 96,152

Clark Kent, is simply Clark Kent, junior reporter for the Daily Planet who moved to Metropolis from Smallville with big dreams. Bruce Wayne is a billionaire playboy from Gotham, who also happens to be Batman. They meet, date, and fall in love, though not without hurdles because mild-mannered Clark is also socially awkward as heck. But when the most dangerous criminals in Gotham are gunning for Batman, Clark gets caught in the middle of it all. (He's basically Batman's Lois Lane) Meant to be set in the Dawn of Justice movie universe, but also draws inspiration from video games, comics, and those awesome Batman cartoons.

This is part of a series, but this is the main fic of it. Love this trope of Clark is just a civilian and Bruce is Batman. Warning this fic does contain disturbing topics so read the tags.

Here Comes the Sun by batsy_rocks

T - 18,815

Clark Kent is a kind-hearted reporter working in the big city. Bruce Wayne is a stressed dad of four with no idea of what he's doing.

Then they meet.

Seasons of Love by littlechinesedoll

G - 4,603

Clark Kent took over that farm at the edge of the Town of Smallville. He likes Smallville's resident doctor, Bruce Wayne.

The best gifts for Bruce are ginger ale, salad, coffee, and any kind of flowers. He hates gems, and bars of copper, silver, and gold.

Petals and Ink by drunkraiinbow

T - 12,976

With a new kid joining the family, Bruce tries a new tattoo artist to continue the tradition of adding them to his sleeve, but he won't trust just any artist. Clark manages to win him over with his incredible talent and his farm-boy friendly demeanor, and he may even have begun to win Bruce's heart. However, Clark might have a few things to learn first.

FLOWER SHOP TATTOO PARLOUR AU! what else is there to say, this is extremely cute and a fast read! :D

Faceless Killer by Batsymomma11

E - 51,519

Detective Bruce Wayne from the GCPD and detective Clark Kent from the MPD have been asked to create a joint task force in an effort to catch the John Doe Killer that has been ravaging their sister-cities. Aside from their long-standing animosity towards one another, it should be a breeze to work together. Besides, lives depend on them getting along.

They never expected they'd trip headlong into a romantic entanglement that feels a lot more serious than even the killer they're chasing.

The Tailor by maderi

E - 16,026

When Clark is assigned to cover the Wayne gala, he finds himself in need of a professionally tailored suit. His tailor though is drop dead gorgeous, which brings up a lot of awkward situations during their appointments.

Heroes of the Squared Circle by Mithen

M - 226,687

They've gone by many names: Billionaire Brucie, Country Clark, the Kryptonian, the Dark Knight. But no matter what their stage names are, one thing has always been true: Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne are the world's finest wrestlers.

Six's a crowd by Untoward INCOMPLETE/ABANDONED

G - 10,133

When Alfred has to make an emergency trip back to England, Bruce soon finds out he can't manage running a business and taking care of six kids all alone.

He turns to a nanny agency for help, and is astonished when he finds Clark Kent, who seems like he can handle anything.

Clark not only can take care of the kids incredibly well but seems to be breaking Bruce's walls down rather well too.

After Hours by ????

E - 3,175

At the end of a long semester Clark can't hide his attraction to Professor Wayne any longer. Grad School AU.

This is practically a one-shot, not really my type of fic but worth adding!! Haven't come across this professor trope in Superbat so if you got any recs, send them my way!

Wings and Fangs by DanielleN3

E - 17,224

Clark thought he could never fall in love with anyone, especially not after being alone for such a long time… but all of that changes when he encounters a sexy vampire in Gotham.

TECHNICALLY they both have powers in this one but there are soooo different from cannon that I think this fic still qualifies for this list

thirteen by CapnWinghead

T - 22,890

Drowning in student loans, Clark Kent takes a summer job as the Wayne family nanny.

OKAY. so this is not entirely NO POWERS, but I mean Clark is a NANNY so this is great! TRUST ME

Kiss me, take my breath away by J_Jubilee

E - 37,934

There were legends about Gotham Reef. Legends that said it was haunted by a beast of foul temper. Stories told of a ravenous sea beast that feasted on the flesh of men, and was said to be more hideous than Satan himself. Others told of a woman with eyes that glowed like gold to lead sailors to their death. Some even spoke of a witch that cursed men and wreck their ships, taking all their treasures with it. When Clark’s catamaran is wrecked by a terrible storm, he learns that the stories were oh so far from true.

Baby Bats by AlmondRose

G - 4,003

this is a short series of adorable and simple domestic fluff

------

Haven't read this one but heeey the art is sooo pretty soo decided to add it anyways

Dragon Heart by Hells Angel 921

T - 27,660

Kal wants to make up for his past.

Bruce tries to move on with his future.

They eventually meet in the middle.

link to art

I didn't know that Dragon/DragonSlayer was a thing but hey... apparently it is, so here it is.

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hehe and so my rant ends here! let me know if you know fics that fit any of these tropes! I’m all ears

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broadstbroskis · 4 years ago

Text

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together).

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things.

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them.

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day.

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse.

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.”

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done.

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms.

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug.

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down.

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?”

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible.

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced.

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face.

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours.

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face.

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly fanfic #morgan rielly imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #hockey imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagines #my hockey fics

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winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

figure it out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: this has been in my wips for literal months as i’ve done my best to get it just right for yall. i hope you enjoy it, and tell me what you think! There’s an addendum to this one, and i’m already working on it, but we’ll see a few more things before that’s ready :)

words: 3.5k warnings: sex mention, sex implication, language

summary: “love is like a backache. it doesn’t show up on an x-ray, but you know it’s there.” - george burns. au!january 2012.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You roll over in bed when your alarm goes off, but you don’t get very far. Aaron throws an arm over you and pulls you back to him with a grumble.

You huff a laugh and wiggle up against him. It’s all a tease and you both know it - there isn’t any time to get up to anything fun before work, but it’s far too entertaining to rile him up.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” His voice escapes his lips between your shoulder blades and you can feel his smile.

“Oh, trust me, babe. I can finish.”

He hums, his smile breaking out into something real. “I noticed.”

+++

When the two of you finally make it out of bed (surprisingly still on time), you grab one of Aaron’s scarves and a hat on your way out. It’s your turn to drop Jack at school today on your way into the office, and the task serves two purposes.

The first? It’s nice to spend time with Jack, just the two of you, when it’s your turn and you’re not on a case. It’s the same for Aaron, who always leaves a little earlier so he and Jack can sit down somewhere and have breakfast together.

The second is pure logistics. You two can’t show up to work in the same car at the same time, so a convenient excuse to separate and stagger your arrivals is welcome.

“Really?”

Aaron’s question stops you at the threshold and you look over your shoulder “What?”

“My hat? My scarf?”

It’s almost too tempting to cave when he’s looking at you like that - his tie hanging around his neck, shirt untucked, arms crossed, and playful frown hiding a smile.

“Yeah. It’s warm and it’s here and we’re late.”

Jack squints up at you and says, “We’re not late.”

“You’re not late.”

The observations come within split seconds of each other and you laugh.

“Fine. Not late, but warm. And you have more hats.” You scamper back into the house to plant a kiss on his lips, smoothing the hair at his temples.

Jack’s laughter is the underscore to your next quip. “You’re very handsome and I’m sure you’re very smart so you can figure it out.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Jack chirps. “Figure it out.”

He has nothing to say to your retreating forms as he catches a glimpse of your smile through the crack in the closing door.

+++

Emily and Spencer are away at a conference-book-signing thing, so it’s just the five of you and Penelope this morning. You’d normally figure that would be Rossi’s purview, but apparently -

“My book-signing days have been put on hold indefinitely in favor of -”

“ - He’s back.” Garcia interrupts, tossing case files at all of you. The conversation is cut short and you suppress a smile. “The Marin headlands last night.”

You can see Aaron’s lips pull as well.

It’s the little things.

Penelope gestures with the notes and crime scene photos appear on the screen. “David Atley and Nicole Puli, both 24, both grad students at Berkeley, shot multiple times in their vehicle-- wait for it--” She clicks again and a familiar sigil appears.

“The Zodiac?” Morgan’s shock is almost sardonic in its delivery.

Rossi snorts. “No way.”

“Come on,” Derek says, amused, while JJ chimes in as well.

“It's gotta be the 2.0 version.”

While neither of you speak, you share a glance with Aaron. You’re kidding.

He only raises his eyebrows for a split second and shrugs.

There’s some part of you a little paranoid that you’re the most obvious couple to exist in the history of the universe. Sure, the team has been teasing you about your friendship for years, the will-the-won’t-they of it all, but now that it’s real you’re almost terrified that they know everything.

Thus, the overcompensation has been wretched. You and Aaron barely look at each other in the field if you can help it (which you usually can’t) and he tends to put you with Derek more often than not.

In truth, the others have noticed, but are far too interested in the spectacle to say anything. Emily’s almost certain the two of you have slept together, and Dave may or may not have suggested the possibility of a secret marriage during your period of suspension.

However far-fetched and ridiculous their theories, they know you two well enough to know that something happened. The tension is gone.

Derek almost finds himself missing the tension. There hasn’t been much to tease you about lately in its absence.

“Yeah, you would think so, except for the crazy similarities in the MO.” Penelope clicks through the photos as she talks.

“I'm talking same victimology, same geography. And,” she adds. “Two souvenirs were left at the crime scene.” She clicks once more and stands back for the full effect.

“He left a photo?” Rossi asks.

She hums in the affirmative. “Local police say that is Marcia Miller. She was found near Napa in 1971. Strongly suspected that she was a victim of the Zodiac, but police never confirmed it and they didn't publicize the case.”

Morgan’s still squinting at the screen. “So the Zodiac took this photo at the killing and then saved it all these years?”

“The Zodiac's last confirmed victim was the cabdriver Paul Stine,” Dave notes devolving into a conversation about The Zodiac, his timeline, his signature.

It’s nothing new - The Zodiac Killer’s case details are common knowledge in your line of work, nevermind the sheer number of copycats that try their hand at the highly-ritualistic murders before inevitably getting arrested.

There’s a reason this guy hasn’t been caught in forty years.

After a few minutes of bouncing between you all, Hotch pushes back from the table and stands. “Have Reid and Prentiss meet us in San Francisco. Wheels up in 30.”

He heads straight to his office to collect his things and you swing in by the tips of your fingers for just a second. “You wanna call Jess or do you want me to?”

In the middle of throwing files in his briefcase, he doesn’t look up when he answers. “Can you, please? I was supposed to meet with Strauss this afternoon and need to stop by her office before wheels up.”

You smile at him, tapping the door frame twice. “You got it.”

+++

It’s boots on the ground right away when you land in San Francisco. You drive to the crime scene with Aaron in the passenger seat beside you and JJ in the back. The radio’s on, and you sing under your breath, tapping your fingers on the steering wheel as you make your way up to the crime scene.

Before you get to the local FBI agents, JJ catches you by the sleeve. “It’s nice to have music in the car again.”

You just smile at her. Aaron looks a little puzzled.

The three of you wipe the looks off your faces by the time you get to Agent Lynn.

+++

“What did JJ mean?” Aaron asks you.

The two of you are alone for the time being, posted up in the conference room with the old Zodiac case files. You look up. “Hmm?”

“What did she mean when she mentioned the music earlier?”

“Oh.” A little flush of embarrassment shoots down your gut. “Derek pointed out to me last summer that I didn’t play any music in the car.”

...while you were gone is the thing you don’t say, but he knows that’s what you mean.

“I didn’t really notice.” You shrug to cover your fib. “I guess I’ve reacquainted myself with the radio in the last couple of weeks.”

Aaron hums, returning to his work. Something’s off, but you’re sure it’ll come up later.

+++

“You don’t think it’s really him, do you?” You ask, unbuttoning your shirt and throwing your pajamas on.

Surprisingly, this case seems to be one of those that allows for sleep at regular hours. For that, you’re grateful. It’s much harder to find time to wind down with Aaron at the end of the day when you’re all forced to sleep in shifts.

Aaron shakes his head, “No, I think Reid’s right. We’re looking at a particularly sophisticated copycat.”

“Isn’t that kind of worse?” Hopping up on your bed, you curl up and look at him over your nose - a clear invitation to join you.

With a huff down his nose and a little smile, he flops down beside you and props his chin on his arms over your belly. “Could be. Luckily, we have Reid.”

You almost think he’s going to say something else, but he gets that pensive look on his face again.

“What?”

With a sigh, he says, “I’m just thinking about what JJ said.”

“Oh, Aaron -”

He doesn’t let you finish. It’s probably a good thing. You didn’t know what you wanted to say anyway.

“I knew how hard it was on me, but I’m realizing more and more how hard it was on you, too.” He shakes his head. “I feel ...I don’t know. I feel like I should have known better… or something.”

Winding your fingers in his hair, you sit in silence for a moment. He doesn’t have anything more to say and eventually he crawls up your body and settles in under your arm, his head on your chest and legs wound between yours.

Sometimes, you’ve found, he likes to feel small.

“You’re safe and you’re home. That’s what matters.” You kiss the top of his head. “And I love you.”

He hums, arcing into your touch and wrapping an arm around your waist. “I love you.”

+++

You spend much of the next day chasing Spencer around the city, keeping notes handy (for yourself, not for him - he doesn't need them) and reporting back on his discoveries to the team like some kind of overwrought and hyper-trained secretary.

Stepping off to the side, you answer a call from Aaron.

“Hit your limit yet?”

You look over at Spencer, who’s flipping through a newspaper like a man on a mission. “It’s actually kind of entertaining.”

And that’s actually true. Watching Spencer push the limits of his intelligence is always a treat - it happens so rarely you almost forget how much you enjoy it every time.

He huffs into the phone. “Hang in there. We’ll all meet back at the precinct once Reid’s done -”

“Doing magic?”

“Exactly. Keep me posted.” There’s a pause. It’s an odd little habit you two developed in the field to leave space for the words you can’t say in front of the others.

I love you.

“Me too.”

+++

You’re almost asleep when a sliver of yellow light shoots across your room, promptly disappearing as the door to the hallway closes.

He pads across the room and slips under the covers. “Hi.”

A little smile crosses your face as you roll over to face him. “Hi.”

Before you can say anything else, his hands are on you and he’s half on top of you as he captures your lips.

Needless to say, the lack of sleep is worth it.

+++

Emily, long after she and Aaron are the only ones left in the precinct conference room, squints as she notices something right under his collar.

He’s already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt, no longer standing on ceremony now that all the local police have retired and the rest of the team gone up to their hotel rooms. There’s not much to do, but the compulsion to get ahead for tomorrow is one neither one of them can shake.

What Aaron failed to remember when executing his wardrobe adjustment was the rather...spirited romp in your room the night prior. The little purple swatches painted on his skin just under the line of his collar stood out stark against the crisp lines of his dress shirt.

Fortunately for you, there was no way in hell the rest of the team would find anything he left on you last night.

Emily reaches into her purse and pulls out a tube of concealer and a powder compact. Though he’s more olive-toned than she is, it’ll be good enough in a pinch. “Hey, Hotch.”

He looks at her over his nose, his eyes tired.

“You might want this for tomorrow morning.” She pushes the crisis control kit across the table to him, but he only frowns and deepens his squint.

By way of explanation, she reaches across the table and presses the tip of her finger into one of the visible bruises in the hollow of his throat. He flinches, freezes, and then immediately drops his head into his hands.

It’s easy to say Emily is amused in the extreme. “Those look...really fresh.”

He shakes his head, insisting as he picks up a file at random, “They’re from before we left.”

It’s only because it’s Emily that he’s even humoring this conversation.

“No they’re not.” She sticks her tongue firmly in her cheek. “These ones are though.” She points at yellowing marks on his collarbone and he smacks her hands away.

“And I know what fresh hickies look like, Hotch. Those are fresh fresh. Like, last night fresh. And we’ve been here for four days.” She frowns, tracking back through the day. “When on earth would you have time to -”

A series of images flash through her head, random wayward connections flashing together in an alarmingly clear picture.

You, avoiding her at the office back in September with quickly-covered marks painted across your neck.

You, flirting with Sean and having way too much fun doing it, looking over his shoulder at ...someone else.

Hotch, in a perpetually good mood (for him, anyway, and despite looking ill-slept) for the last five months.

The way the mistletoe kiss at Dave’s Christmas party looked way too easy, too familiar.

And now, the obvious indicators that Hotch is not only getting it, he’s getting it good.

If he got those last night…

Wait.

Their hotel rooms are right next to …

Oh my God.

Hotch watches the realization flash across Emily’s face, and he knows you’re both busted. Instead of losing her shit like he expected, Emily just leans back in her chair - smug.

“So. Are you still Not the Boyfriend, or has there been an update?”

He sighs.

The corner of her mouth tips up. “How long?”

“For which part? The not-boyfriend part, the boyfriend part, or this part?” He gestures vaguely to the space behind his tie, and Emily snorts.

“Just spill it.”

Holding up a finger, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, dialing the first number on his speed dial.

You’re hardly asleep, sitting up in bed waiting for him with a case file in your lap, when you get the call. You’re not sure who’s listening, so a “Hey, Hotch. What’s up?” will have to do.

“Emily knows.”

You straighten. “How?”

“Doesn’t matter. She knows.”

There’s a scramble, and suddenly Emily’s on the other end of the phone. “He’s got very questionable and very fresh bruises just under his collar. Care to explain?”

There’s another shuffle.

“Ignore her,” Aaron says. With a hand pressed to your forehead, you understand the question implicit in his phone call.

“Just tell her. It’s basically her fault, anyways. If she hadn’t ditched it then we’d have our heads up our asses for another five years.”

“Alright,” then, after a second of realizing you don’t sound sleepy at all, “Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. Emily can only look on with amusement, gleeful in the extreme. “You know that’s not what I mean. Go to sleep.”

“Alright, alright. Fine.” You reluctantly close the casefile and put him on speaker so he can hear the light click off. “I’m going to sleep.” Then, “I love you. Come up soon.”

“Okay.” He shoots a glance at Emily. Because he’ll never hear the end of it anyway, more ammo won’t hurt at this point. “I love you too. Now, really. Go to slee -”

You hang up on him. He double-takes at his phone for a moment before shoving it back in his pocket.

He’s met with Emily’s surprisingly moved eyes. “You’re...okay.”

What she means is, You’re happy.

He knows.

He nods. “I’m okay.”

She puts her files down and leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and lacing her fingers. “Tell me.”

So, he does.

He tells her about the way you stuck to him like glue through the divorce, the way you wiggled your way into Haley’s heart, captured the love of his son, and earned the trust of his entire family.

He tells her what Haley said in the hospital, the tenacious care you showed his unyielding and unwilling ass when he was healing, the way your grief soothed his in the wake of Haley’s loss.

He tells her about the moments of euphoria in the years of want and doubt and fear.

He tells Emily about the day she died, how there was nothing more painful than that necessary lie. He tells her how easy it was to lie to the others, how it ripped him in half to lie to you.

He tells her about the day he left for Pakistan, about the fight the night before, the kiss he pressed to your cheek on the tarmac, the endless, wretched nights missing you in the desert.

He tells her about the fight when he finally came home, skims over the following days, jumps and meanders around to Christmas, to moving in, to the bliss that now seems to follow him wherever he goes.

Emily watches the smile that plays at his mouth when he talks about you, the softness in his eyes as recalls the look on your face and the words you said and the way you are with Jack. There’s a kind of peace in him that she’s never really seen before.

Maybe, she imagines, it was there before she met him (the second time). Maybe this peace existed with Haley. Maybe this is the most she’s ever heard him speak at once. Maybe it makes her smile.

Maybe this peace is what his love looks like.

If that’s the case, she thinks, you are very lucky indeed.

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes, but at some point he stops talking.

“Hotch?”

He looks over at her, the softness lingering in his eyes.

“I’m really happy for you.”

His lips twitch. “Thanks.”

“And you know it’s my God-given right to tell everyone else once this case is over, right?”

+++

You actually are asleep by the time Aaron gets back to the hotel. He leans against the wall in the dark with his hands in his pockets, enjoying the peace before the inevitable shitshow.

He crosses the room and crouches at your side, running the back of his fingers over your cheek. You stir, sleepy noises leaving your throat as your eyes crack open.

“Aaron?”

“Yeah. Just me.”

You smile a little and close your eyes again. “How’d she take it?”

“Remarkably well.” He kisses your forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“No,” you whine, drawn-out and slurred. “Don’t leave. Stay. I set an alarm.”

With a resigned sigh, he strips and slides into bed behind you, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close.

+++

You and Aaron sit on proverbial pins and needles for the rest of the case, but Emily keeps her word. The only indication of her knowledge came the morning after her chat with Aaron, when she pulled you to her and hugged you so tight you could hardly breathe.

She seizes her moment on the plane, about halfway home.

“Derek, you owe me fifty bucks.”

She hardly looks up from her book as she speaks.

He takes off his headphones and wrinkles his brow. “What?”

She repeats herself, slower, as if she was speaking to a child. “You. Owe. Me. Fifty. Bucks.”

“...Why?”

Emily finally looks up from her book to pointedly stare at you and Aaron, seated next to each other and sharing a bag of Goldfish you stole from Jack’s snack drawer. You’re both reading from the same file, absently reaching for crackers as you go along.

Derek’s confusion continues to smother his face until it finally clicks in.

He steals a page from Reid’s notebook and balls it up, tossing it across the plane and breaking your concentration. You look up, only a little startled, to find a face-splitting grin blinding you across the cabin.

Derek’s small ruckus has drawn the attention of the rest of the team - well, all except JJ, who’s fast asleep on the couch.

There seems to be a collective sigh of relief as money exchanges hands. You’re not quite sure what the bet was, but Emily seems to have won handily.

Aaron takes your hand under the table, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It doesn’t.

Everyone simply returns to their tasks, little smiles on their faces.

+++

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

A Coops Sid's date. Pure fluff

Coops Wedding Part 3 is here! Post-wedding food (finally) and heading home together. Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, as always <3

Preparations II Part 1 II Part 2

TW for flirty Coops

Sid’s was quite empty for a Thursday night in the summertime, which Sirius was eternally grateful for as they headed to their usual booth, slinging jackets over their chairs and tangling their legs together under the table with identical sighs of relief. Remus reached across the tabletop and laced their fingers together, tracing the lines of Sirius’ palm without looking away from his face.

His once-perfect bowtie hung loose around his neck, crooked even when untied; Sirius tugged one end, skewing it a bit more. “Cutie.”

“You are,” Remus said with a slight smile.

Just as Sirius was about to fire back with something equally sappy and romantic, a shadow fell over the side of the table. “Hey, guys, what can I get for you?” Nate asked as he dug his notepad out of his apron. “The usual?”

“Sounds great. How’ve you been, Nate?”

Nate shrugged. “Not bad, not bad. The summer rush is helping me save up for grad school, which is nice.” He gestured to their suit jackets with his pen. “Special occasion?”

“Yeah, we just got back from a wedding,” Remus said casually.

“Really? Whose?”

“Ours.”

Nate’s pen clattered onto the table as his jaw fell open; he glanced between them, speechless, and Sirius bit his lip to hold down his laughter. “You—your wh—you got married?”

They shushed him in unison and he held both hands over his mouth. “It was a small ceremony, just friends and family. We’re waiting to see how long it takes the media to find out.”

“That’s incredible,” Nate whispered, sniffling. “Oh my god. Fuck, congratulations.”

Sirius grinned, feeling the happiness bubble up in his chest again. “Thanks, man. It’s still sinking in, to be honest.”

“No, yeah, absolutely.” Nate shook his head for a moment before picking his notepad back up with a quiet huff. “Jesus. This is amazing. Pizzas are on the house for the newlyweds, okay?”

“Aw, Nate, you don’t have to—”

“It’s restaurant policy,” he interrupted, already moving toward the kitchen. “I can’t break the rules!”

“That’s not a rule,” Remus muttered as Nate disappeared behind the swinging doors. “That kid’s about to get the nicest tip of his goddamn life.”

“Mhmm.” Sirius guided Remus’ face back to him with a finger under his chin and kissed him slowly, sighing at the softness of his lips. He tasted like champagne, with a little bit of sweetness left from the wedding cake. “Sugar.”

“Is that a new nickname?” Remus asked as he transferred some weight to his elbows for a better angle.

“Could be. D’you like it?”

“Hmm.” A warm palm covered the side of Sirius’ neck. “It’s not bad. ‘Sweetheart’ works fine for me, though.”

“How about ‘husband’? ‘Husband’ sounds pretty good. Mon mari.” Remus blushed and tilted his face to the side, rubbing their cheeks together for a moment. “Quoi? C’est bien?”

Remus rolled his eyes, but he was hiding a smile. “You know I’m weak for the French.”

“I do.” Sirius kissed the inside of his wrist lightly. “Hey, that’s the second time I’ve said that today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep. First time was better, though.”

Remus laughed and pulled him in for another kiss, combing the pads of his fingers through the curls just above Sirius’ ear. They stopped when the kitchen doors creaked open, but kept their foreheads together until Nate arrived with their food.

“Enjoy,” he said, practically glowing with excitement as he handed them napkins and utensils. “Congrats, again. I’m really happy for you guys. Have an amazing night.”

“Will do.” Remus smiled as he hurried back to the register, then reached for a slice of pizza and practically shoved the entire thing into his mouth. “Fucking hell, this is good.”

Sirius groaned in agreement, letting his eyes fall closed as the soft crust warmed him from the inside out. “This is the best part of my day.”

“Is it?”

“Yep. We’re married, we’re done with the party, and now there’s actual food to eat.” He held his fingers up to count. “Checking all my boxes.”

“Good point.” Remus stole a piece of pepperoni off one of his slices and Sirius made a noise of protest, only to pull a face when Remus set a bit of pineapple on the edge. “What? It’s a fair trade.”

Sirius glared playfully at him over the next slice, then hurried to catch the long string of cheese that slid free from the rest of the slice with a muffled yelp of distress.

“Do you need a hand?” Remus asked, clearly amused as he passed him an extra napkin.

“Uh-uh. I got it.” It took a second, but Sirius managed to get it all into his mouth without snorting pizza sauce through his nose as they both broke down laughing. “Another successful mission.”

“You’ve got pizza grease on your lip,” Remus said, reaching over to dab at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.”

“Thanks, love.”

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, too focused on the hot food that they could finally enjoy without interruption; Sirius glanced at the wall clock and was astounded to see they had made it over ten hours since their last proper meal. No wonder he was so hungry.

“It felt weird sleeping alone last night,” Remus remarked once their plates were clean and Sirius wasn’t in immediate danger of getting hangry.

“I know, right?” Under the table, Sirius ran the side of his foot up Remus’ calf. “Super strange. We haven’t slept separately in months.”

“Mhmm.” Remus’ pupils dilated, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just from the low light. “It was fun staying the night with the cubs, though.”

“Yeah?” Sirius pressed a little harder on the inside of his knee and Remus gripped his napkin.

Amber eyes flickered around the restaurant before settling on Sirius. “Baby. What are you doing?”

Sirius shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Really?” Remus raised an eyebrow and Sirius’ breath hitched as a hand squeezed the top of his thigh.

“I think we should head home.”

“Good plan.”

Thanks to Nate and his made-up rules, there was no bill to settle, but they left a tip anyway and made sure to say goodbyes to the familiar staff as they headed back to the car. If Sirius let Remus go through the door first for the express purpose of coping a feel without being seen by the other patrons, that wasn’t anyone’s business but their own.

“You are such a—” Remus’ teasing insult was cut short by hands curling into the front of his shirt and pulling him over the console as lips connected to his own in a far less chaste manner than before. “Well. Alright, then. Home?”

“Home,” Sirius confirmed, grinning as he started the car. It was impossible to not feel smug when he managed to bring that particular shade of pink to Remus’ neck and ears. Despite the anticipation in his stomach, he took the longer route, watching the shining lights of the city turn Remus’ face every color of the rainbow. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Remus glanced over and rested his temple on the window, tracing a small circle on the back of Sirius’ hand; a small smile tilted his mouth in that perfect, off-center way. “We’re married. That’s super fucking cool.”

“It is,” Sirius laughed. His cheeks were starting to hurt in the best way. “I’m never going to get tired of hearing you say that.”

“And I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

They reached the house a few minutes later, and Sirius’ heart leapt when he saw the front steps. “Wait!” he called, scrambling out of the car and grabbing Remus around the waist before he could go to the front door.

“What?” Remus asked, looking mildly alarmed until Sirius swept him into his arms. “Wh—really?”

“Please?” He pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ nose, then another to his forehead, again and again until Remus was laughing too hard to speak. “Please, please, please—”

“Okay, okay!” He draped his arms around Sirius’ neck and held on tight as he walked up the steps. “Do you have the keys?”

“Back pocket.” Remus reached around to get them and Sirius jumped when he felt a light smack as well. “Oh?”

Remus just kissed his cheek and unlocked the door, pushing it open with one hand. Hattie was having a sleepover with the Dumais’ for the night, thankfully; Sirius shuddered to think of what would happen if she collided with his legs in this vulnerable state.

“Ready?” Remus asked quietly, snuggling closer against his chest.

Sirius took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold, careful not to knock Remus into either side of the frame. He had crossed that little line a thousand times, maybe a million, but as they entered the dark house in dance-wrinkled suits with matching rings on their fingers, he felt a new chapter in the story of their life open up. The first of that particular volume, in fact.

He had the feeling it would be a good one.

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