#like yeah everything felt like shit this morning and i was indulging myself there but i have also been owrking so so hard

[rainbluealoekitten]

ok mb for worrying everyone but i actually had a BEAUTIFUL afternoon and am feeling pretty happy rn :D rambling about it in the tags ofc <3

[literaryfandomangel]

The Promise - Chapter Nine

As I walked downstairs, Mom was waiting for me. She was lying on a chaise lounge with a mug of tea in her hands. I knew what was coming - Mom was ready to interrogate me about the four guys who brought me home. It made a blush rise in my cheeks, but I sat across from her. 

Mom pushed a cup of tea and a large blueberry muffin into my periphery. I took a sharp intake of breath, mentally calculating how many calories were in that muffin. It was an instinct to ensure that I didn’t eat anything potentially fattening. Lord knows I needed to lose about another 10 pounds. I calculated about 370 calories. The smell of the pastry was mouth-watering, but I couldn’t bring myself to indulge. 

“Last night?” Mom raised an eyebrow as she sat upright to give me her full attention. The blush on my cheeks was more prominent, and Mom gave me that impish smile. “They seemed to be a lovely bunch of guys.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, breaking off a piece of the muffin. I rolled it between my fingers as I thought about what to say. Mom was open - but I didn’t think admitting that I liked all four of them was something Mom would appreciate. 

“Do you like them, honey?” Mom looked at me, worried for a moment. It took me a moment to realize that Mom had no idea if they were forcing me to keep them company. 

“I think so,” I smiled. It felt for a moment like nothing had ever happened. That we were still in Phoenix, chatting about boys and school before our world went to shit. 

Mom and I used to spend our Saturday mornings going to the mall and chatting about life. We were so close in Phoenix before Dad started having an affair and Justin became abusive. Even while I was inpatient, Mom came every Saturday to talk to me, even if I refused to speak to her. 

“That’s good,” Mom hummed, sipping at her tea. “They seem different, but I like them.”

“They are different,” I grinned, reaching down with my hand while Mom’s attention was captured by something outside. Nanook’s tongue licked the pieces of muffin away. “People seem scared of them, but they’ve been kind and gentle with me.”

“I’ve missed this,” Mom confessed, leaning across the table. She laid one of her petite hands over the top of mine. “I missed your voice. I hope that these guys help you find your voice. Please don’t disappear on me?”

I blinked at the pain Mom was expressing. It encapsulated her voice, her eyes, her face. I felt guilt at how much pain I was causing Mom, the pain I had caused her. I felt the dam holding back the floodgate of secrets weaken. I wanted to tell her about everything Justin had done to me - why I didn’t want to talk anymore. Instead, I pinched off another bite of the muffin, waiting until she stood up to take her mug into the kitchen. 

I fed Nanook about a third of the muffin, breaking and pulling pieces to litter the plate. When Mom returned with a new, steaming cup of tea, her eyebrows knitted together at the mess. I stood up, taking the plate into the kitchen. I dumped the desiccated remains of the muffin into the trash as Mom sighed. 

“Love you,” I whispered into Mom’s ear as I passed, kissing her shorn locks. The worried look disappeared as I said the words I had avoided for too long. I gave Mom a small smile before grabbing my messenger bag. 

As I walked outside, I noticed the faded yellow paint of my bike; it was leaning against the toolshed. I smiled, knowing that they kept their promise. I walked to the paddock, sitting inside the horse enclosure to write. 

I got lost in the world I was creating. Not even the horses coming over to investigate this human intruder made my focus waiver. It wasn’t until Grandpa’s voice carried on the wind that I tore my concentration from my journal. 

“ARIA!” I heard Grandpa call. I snapped out of my reverie, realizing my hand ached from writing for so long. I looked at the sky to gauge the time, only to startle. The sky was darkening, meaning I had sat out here for hours. Grandpa walked over to the paddock. “Do you want to help me feed them?”

I scrambled to my feet, slipping my journal into the waistband of my jeans. I hurried to the stables, not wanting to miss helping Grandpa. He showed me how to mix the feed and how much to give each horse. I enjoyed the work, mixing the feed together. Then Grandpa took two buckets, instructing me to give mine to the chestnut. 

The chestnut was excited, whinnying as he realized I had his food. I opened the stall, only to be headbutted by a large mammal. I laughed, pushing his muzzle away from the bucket. I hung it on the wall, watching for a beat as the chestnut strode over, muscles rippling in the light. He started to eat, enjoying the feed. 

Once we were finished, I left the stables, looking up at the darkening sky. I hurried into the house, rushing up the stairs. I washed my face in the bathroom, debating the need for makeup. I decided against makeup and wedge sandals, instead sliding my feet into my worn boots. 

I did, however, dab a small amount of perfume onto my neck. I loved this perfume because it smelled like cotton candy, vanilla beans, and oranges. Once I was done, I grabbed my messenger bag, trying to stuff Dwayne’s jacket inside. The jacket was too bulky and oversized. After a moment’s hesitation, I slipped the jacket on. 

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The jacket hung off my tiny, emaciated frame, making me appear like a child playing dress up with my father’s punk outfit. I shook my head as I tried to make my fingers appear through the sleeves. I buried my face into the collar again before putting my bag over my shoulder. 

I left the house, getting onto the bicycle Paul, David, Marko, or Dwayne had returned for me. I started pedaling, making my way toward the Boardwalk. The leather jacket was warm, protecting me against the biting wind coming from the ocean. I almost didn’t want to return it, but I knew this was a prized possession of the group. When I arrived at the entrance, I locked the Schwinn into the rack, disappearing inside. 

The sun hadn’t set entirely yet, the rays sinking below the horizon. The sky was a myriad of colors, an artist’s canvas. I looked at their usual place but haven’t seen their motorcycles yet. I decided they would arrive later and wandered around. I was looking at all the niche shops lining the Boardwalk and the games. 

I thought that maybe I could talk one of the guys into winning me a few prizes as I watched the people lining up to play games. I figured that was more of a date activity, and we weren’t dating. I didn’t even know if the guys thought of me in a romantic light; probably not, I mused. I wrapped my arms tighter around my body as I got lost in my self-deprecating thoughts of not being pretty or good enough. 

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realize that I was walking past a group of drunks. They catcalled and wolf-whistled when I walked past. I tried to ignore them now that I realized the situation. But they continued to heckle me until they noticed what I was wearing. 

“You’re with those freaks? Wearing their jacket, huh?” One of the drunk guys called out. I ignored their comments, continuing to walk on the Boardwalk, but another guy cut me off. He stood in front of me, not allowing me passage. I backed away as they kept coming closer. Finally, my back hit the railing of the Boardwalk. 

Chapter Ten

[ickmick]

ashes in my way

ao3 link twitter link

character/pairing:

jon/The Archivist centric oneshot; implied martin and jonmartin, but neither are directly mentioned.

major tags/warnings:

(see more/in depth detail on ao3 endnotes)

angst , hurt no comfort , implied suicide / death , dehumanization , fear , manipulation

summary:

jon is loath to be acknowledged as he is currently. and yet, he can't stop his descent as he thinks it over. how unfortunate, that he is only a vessel. OR author's first take on an introspective angst scenario, where jon becomes The Archivist. sort of like an 'instead of a coma...' but not really at all, either. take it as you will, i just went at it until i liked it.

yeah... remember this nice drawing? well my first tma fic is the complete opposite of light hearted, rip. heed the tags, i beg of you.

jon feels… he feels like shit. the words won't come easy, even as he tries to sort it out in his head. to determine why he feels this way- what he even feels.

he tells himself to be less dramatic; to stop being selfish. if anything, he's the lucky one in this situation. he's loved, and cared for earnestly despite how utterly unworthy and pointless he is.

i don't know what i'm supposed to say, he'd confessed quietly, brows furrowed, what do you want me to say? it had practically been a plea, a begging cry hidden behind his solemn expression and tone. they hadn't answered.

it's so unbelievably cold, alone as always in his silent flat.

sometimes he pictures them here, by his side. he'd rather enjoy that, he knows it for a fact, as he's wanted so long to have an understanding companion. jon has always been starved for touch, abandoned.

his chest continues to ache, a dull throb that pulses in his ears and drowns out all coherent thought. crying is for people, a honeyed voice reminds him, people who haven't ruined everything. and he is neither of those things.

not even the duvet pulled up to his nose warms him.

part of him whispers in disbelief that hours ago he'd felt proud. he'd been happy today. all through the morning and even afternoon, he’d been productive, and filled with a feather light contentment that he hadn't held for a long time.

but there are no picture perfect days, not for The Archivist. no, it's a creature of grimaces, of secrets held close to it's chest for only itself to Know, of broken promises. it's the maker of all mistakes, past and present.

any and all delights belong to those who don't lurk in the shadows. it feels unfair, to see others practically float through life and make it to their goals. he Knows there's more to it, yet yearns for that kind of freedom blindly.

it's only right, he decides, i deserve to rot alone; i made this mess myself. each of these horrors are my own, and nobody can save me from them. jon doubts that anyone would want to to begin with.

he could See the answers, most times. whether those held weight or could be used in his favor varied. more often than not, recently, he'd fumbled them.

the ceiling is bland, as most are. cracked white texturing, with a faint water stain near one corner. his eyes scan it in the dark regardless, begging for something else to think of.

anything, he assures the ghosts in his withered heart, anything to forget even for a moment. it's his own fault, he knows that. but even so, he searches for just what he did wrong.

maybe it's the dragged out silences, the delayed responses. or maybe it's his incessant rambles, how he goes on and on about whatever holds his fancy at the moment. they used to think it was charming, endearing even as they indulged him.

for a while, he didn't notice how they'd started going quiet. how the nodding smiles and interested questions turned into droning hums and annoyed eyes. jon wishes he'd never noticed.

that would be too simple, too easy, though, even if they likely would've let it go on for months before confronting him. they still had that tendency. it's the coward's way out.

but that's what he was. a coward, forever skirting consequences or responsibility for fear of change. ignoring how that change occurs regardless.

he feels so stupid. playing the fool- and playing it well- jon has managed to convince them that he is worth their time, worth their love. feigning unawareness isn't the same as genuinely missing the point, they'd likely tell him if they found out.

it always felt aggressive, knowing them well enough after the years to understand that the casual comments were actually scathing irritation. he'd pull back, alarmed and confused despite knowing very well what he's done wrong. when did it become a crime, The Archivist grumbles, knowing it's role well after all this time, to lose interest in a project i didn't start?

you should know by now, it continues, undeservingly affronted, you should know i can't predict the future. i don't control when i move on, however much i try! softening, and offering a loving smile, it soothes, i promise i would if i could.

but it never was about the typical situation, he doesn't have to See to know that. it was the disinterest that came after, how he'd pick up the next thing and gleefully talk about it whilst stood in the silenced rubble of the last. spitting in the face of all their hard work, intentionally or not.

he wants to think it's all been entirely unintentional. that's how it goes, jon would shrug, offering a genuinely mournful look, sometimes it's impossible to keep motivation. you understand, don't you?

it's selfish of him, taking and taking while barely giving anything but scraps. it's possibly the closest thing he has to being human anymore. humans are typically selfish beings, aren't they?

his limbs feel heavy, as if he's sinking into the bed.

it's around dinner time, and his stomach gurgles, pulling him from his thoughts. he'd meant to get up and cook a while ago. likely something easy and quick, since he feels so dreadful.

the idea of warm food is a comfort, even if it is just toasted sandwiches. maybe he should get up now, so he can think more clearly. but the voice croons, eating is for people, for people who don't ruin all they touch. and he is neither of those things.

so he doesn't move, and lets the panic-spurring feeling envelope him.

The Archivist can faintly feel his eyes burn as it stares up unblinking at the ceiling faint slivers of light spilling through the blinds. it's Eyes replay the same dread filled scene, stomach dropping and twisting each time he registers the frustration in their words. it feels more visceral, like a fresh laceration stinging, each time.

the silence has become a deafening static, overtaking even the sounds of his heart and stomach. it's a gracious reminder that he is alone. completely and utterly abandoned, like the disease ridden mutt that he is.

it's only right, he thinks again, repeating the phrase like a twisted mantra. i deserve to rot alone, after all. it's just disappointing that they finally realized, and it rings true in his small, empty bedroom.

bed rotting, he recalls, is to spend countless hours in bed during the day voluntarily, typically to avoid stress. jon thinks it's a rather fitting description of his current activity. the sheets are soft, and if he were to roll over and finally let the dark take him, he just may find a brief happiness.

its unfortunate, then, that it's not nearly close enough to midnight. there's time yet to be productive, he swears, urging heavy eyelids to stay open. sure, i’ve worked all morning, but there's still time to prove my worth.

and how fleeting emotions can be. sometimes, it's a blessing; to shrug off inconveniences and turn to brighter things. other times, it's a despairing loss of those same bright things- of happiness.

he knows that if he were to get up, even just roll over, take his phone, he could distract himself online as usual. find a good documentary, or listen to an intriguing podcast while he works on some papers. christ, he thinks, hopeless, i'd settle for even a shitty youtube video to make myself laugh.

jon also knows it won't help him. temporary solutions are temporary for a reason, they don't fix anything long term. so then why could he never discover a permanent fix to his broken parts?

there are so many unsaid things eternally locked inside his chest; behind his ribs.

when was the last time his mouth felt so sticky, he briefly wonders. perhaps it always was this difficult to speak, this impossible to even open his jaws. his tongue sits heavy, unwilling to move even if he had the energy.

his voice is grating anyways, jon assumes, nevertheless longing for conversation. besides, reminds the voice so sweetly, they only want to talk to people, it digs it's claws into him, affectionate, people that don't ignore their anger for their own delusions. and he is neither of those things.

it's not as if there is a soul to speak with anyhow, not tonight.

sometimes, the worst solitude is the one that is self-enforced. a deep, aching dread settles in his chest the longer that his phone is silent. by now they should have called, or at least texted- but isn't it his turn to reach out?

it's nearly funny, in a borderline hysterical way that has The Archivist grinning up at the ceiling. all of it's many eyes are open, seeking through it's catalog of horrors. oh how this could've been worked on if only he'd just offered a real effort, a proper conversation.

it doesn't find room to care, though. there are so many other things it desires, things it values more than frail human connection. any Knowledge that could be garnered from this solution means nothing in its Archives, which feed off fear and pain anyhow.

the bleak ruminating of its vessel is far better than connections.

he desperately wishes he weren't so stubborn, that he'd make the first step for once. but jon, comes that wretched voice, louder than any other thought now, they want people around. people who don't cave to impulsive, foolish, temporary solutions like a coward.

and i, jon acknowledges as it's eyes- the real ones- shut with finality, am neither of those things.

it's only right then, after all, that jon doesn't wake again.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Sheriff Hassan X Reader: The new sheriff in town

Hassan had been nervous about his decision, but it wasn't like he had any other choice. Not with all the shit he’d been through.

Crocket island was supposed to be a fresh start. A new life away from everything else. Somewhere he could keep Ali safe while still maintaining an okay living situation. It was a small town in, basically, the middle of nowhere. Where the crime rate was almost nonexistent. The perfect location for his new home.

Well, not really.

The people of Crockett weren’t exactly… how could he put it? Open minded. Yeah, not really open minded at all. Sure, there were some who had taken his presence in the town better than others but even still the atmosphere was always full of aversion. He felt it when he’d leave his crap “office” in the back of the dingy little supermarket and take a stroll down the road.

Just because he felt like it.

Just because there really wasn’t anything else to do.

It was always a bad morning when he would have an unfortunate encounter with none other than Crockett’s designated asshole, Bev Keane. The sheriff could deal with the others, but the mere sight of Bev made him wish something would fall out of the sky and knock him right in the head. Just so he didn't have to indulge in conversation with her. Unfortunately for him that had never happened.

You hated Crockett.

Absolutely despised it.

You had your chance of leaving it a couple of years ago. A chance to live the dream in the big city. But your folks had gotten sick, and you needed to stick around to take care of them. They are gone now, and you’re still here. You could grab a boat and leave anytime you pleased but for some reason you hadn’t. You’d stuck around. Not knowing why but feeling like it was what you were meant to do. And when Erin Greene came back, pregnant and broken by a bad relationship, you’d understood why.

You and Erin had been friends since childhood. She’d told you about her crush on Riley and you’d done everything in your power to make it a reality. Only it never happened. They left and you stayed. Things just weren’t the same after that. They were busy living while you were making sure your folks stayed alive. You still talked with Erin from time to time. Mostly through email since you didn't have her number and Crocket’s service sucked for far away calls. So, you didn't know that she was suffering until you saw it for yourself. You’d waited for her at the harbor, watching the Bella pull into port and searching for your friend in the crowd.

Okay, that was a lie you found her right away. There were like only five people on the boat.

That was the other thing about Crockett.

No one new ever came into the town. You had to deal with the same dull and boring faces every single day for years on end. And the faces in town weren’t exactly delightful to be around with. Sure, some people were kind but the ones that weren’t seemed to overpower the good with their bitterness.

So, when you found out that there was a newbie in town you could barely conceal your curiosity. You wanted to find out more about this man but unfortunately for you you’d been sick when he’d arrived. And Erin, being the mom friend that she was, had prohibited you from so much as exiting your house.

“Erin, come on! I’ve been living in this town for so long. Finally, something new happens and I can't even enjoy it.”

“If you take care of yourself properly, you’ll be better in no time.”

“I don’t take care of myself Erin, you should know that.”

“Well then you’re never leaving the house.”

You let out a groan, mustering all your energy into giving Erin the biggest puppy dog eyes you could manage.

“Please.”

“No. Wipe your nose, there's snot everywhere.”

You took the tissue from Erin's hand, blowing your nose loudly before settling back into the couch.

“Will you at least find out a bit about this new guy? As a favor for your poor sick friend.”

Erin let out a sigh at your dramatics, leaning down to grab the discarded tissue you’d left on the table and trying her best to ignore the pleading face you were making.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can find out and tell you later when I come over with soup. How is that?”

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“Yeah, yeah. Now take care of yourself. I’ll be back later.”

You did as Erin asked, drinking lots of water and gulping down the medication she'd picked up for you. You tried to read a book. When that didn't work you flicked through your DVD’s, searching for a good movie. You’d found one you liked but halfway through it you couldn’t control yourself enough to keep paying attention. You looked at your clock, reading the time. Forty minutes had passed since Erin left. You let out a sigh. By the time she got back curiosity would have killed you.

That is, if boredom didn't get to you first.

Erin was true to her word. The moment she’d arrived with soup you’d pestered her for information, and she gave it to you willingly. Turns out you had a new sheriff in town. Not that you needed one. The worst crime committed in the community was a small theft at the supermarket. The kids had been caught and the parents had paid for the stolen property. Still, it never hurts to be prepared. Especially if it meant new people in town. Erin had been patient enough to answer the millions of questions you asked her. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do anyway. Plus, she likes spending time with you. It’d been a while since she saw you so excited about something, so she was more than happy to feed your new obsession. Erin told you everything she knew about this new mystery man.

Well, almost everything.

Somehow, she’d forgotten one key detail. The fact that his office resided in none other than the supermarket. Where you coincidently worked.

You hadn’t gone to work for a week being that you were sick in bed. So, when you finally did go to work you were surprised to find none other than the sheriff standing at the front of the store. You’d almost stopped and turned around when you realized who he was. The excitement you’d felt the whole week was quickly being replaced by nervousness. You didn’t know why you felt that way. Perhaps because you wanted to make a good impression and your dirty uniform wasn’t really helping you out.

For some reason you wanted him to like you. You really liked him, and you hadn’t even met the man. Merely the way Erin talked about him made you feel like he was a good person. And Crockett Island really needed more good people.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t go to work. You’d already been off for a week. The money wasn’t spectacular, but it got you through the day. With that, you took a deep breath and kept walking towards the supermarket.

Towards the mysterious man that stood at its entrance.

Hassan realized the moment you made your way to him that he’d never seen you before. Which was saying a lot considering how small the town was. He watched your image get closer, noticing the words embroidered into the side of your vest. Before he’d read it, he’d feared that you’d been making your way to him. He’d mentally prepared himself for a possible unpleasant encounter, but the thought dispersed when he saw your smile.

It was breathtaking.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

Hassan had been so entranced in his awe that he hadn’t noticed you walk past him, giving him a little nod before entering the store. He remained glued to his spot, sipping at his coffee despite the awful taste. Then his body seemed to link up with his brain, making him walk in after you. He found your frame immediately, watching as you stacked some cans of beans on a shelf.

You felt his eyes on you but didn’t turn around until you’d finished your task. You did still have a job to do after all. The reason you walked in was because this was your place of work. Talking to the Sheriff was just a nice consequence. Once you finished what you were doing you turned around, coming face to face with Hassan. You jumped a little at the proximity. Then you looked up at him and smiled.

“Sorry I didn’t see you there. Anything I can help with?”

Hassan just stared at you for a minute confused by your question.

“You know…like to find something in the store.”

“Oh, I’m not shopping.”

“Ah. Well, what are you doing here then, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You decided to go for the dumb approach. Pretending you didn’t know who he was when in reality you probably knew more than you should. Your question seemed to snap Hassan out of his daze causing him to give you a small smile. You observed the way dimples formed on the side of his face as he did so. Cute.

“I work here. My office is in the back.”

You turned to look at where he was pointing, putting on your best surprised face.

“You’re the new Sheriff?”

“Yeah. Sheriff Hassan.”

You took his hand, giving it a shake as you told him your own name.

“Sheriff huh. I’m guessing someone’s already made the name joke.”

“Ah, yes. Joe seemed to have beat you to it.”

“Well, I'd only have done it if it would have made you laugh. But something tells me you're not really into it.”

“No, I guess not.”

“Understandable. It's a crap joke anyway.”

Hassan smiled at your comment. A real smile this time. You mirrored his expression, baring your teeth as you grinned at him.

“Not sure anyone told you this, but we don’t really need a sheriff. I mean it’s great having you and all, but I think you’re going to end up shooting yourself out of boredom.”

“Yeah, I know. Actually, that's why I chose this town. Good pay, safe for my son.”

“You have a son?”

“Yeah. His name is Ali.”

Hassan pulled out his wallet, rummaging through its contents before finding what he was looking for. He handed the photo to you. Your eyes scanned the image, pointing at one of the figures.

“That’s him?”

“Yeah, that's my boy. He’s changed a bit though. That photo is from a while ago. He’s a teenager now.”

“Bet he’s really handsome. Like his dad.”

Hassan blushed lightly at your words, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary as he took the photo from you. Your eyes glanced at his wallet, finding the image of a woman. You knew it wasn’t your place to ask but curiosity was going to eat away at you if you didn’t.

“Who is that?”

The smile on Hassan's face fell when his eyes met what you were referring to. His fingers went to the photo, caressing it tenderly.

“That’s my wife.”

“Oh, is she in town too?”

“No, she died some years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Cancer’s no joke.”

“Yeah, it really isn’t.”

The way you spoke made Hassan look up at you. When his eyes met yours, he recognized the look on your face. It was one he often wore when talking about his wife.

Grief.

You knew what it felt like to lose people. You understood him. With that realization Hassan couldn’t hold himself back. The words started spilling out of him like a flood. Everything he’d gone through over the years finally being put out into the open. You listened, never once interrupting him. Hassan didn’t know what had led him to this moment of vulnerability. He hadn’t told anyone else about any of this. But somehow, he’d decided to trust you, the person he’d met less than an hour ago, with his truth. It felt good to get it all out of his system. And the way you looked at him, your kind features molding into a look of understanding, made him feel like he’d made the right choice.

As his story came to an end you found yourself moving closer to him. Before you’d even registered what you were doing your arms had wrapped themselves around his large frame, pulling him into a tight hug. Hassan hesitated, the feeling of your gentle touch shocking him a bit. It made you realize just what you were doing, hurrying to detach yourself from him as you said sorry repeatedly.

Hassan didn’t say anything for a moment, merely looking down at you with wide eyes. He placed his coffee mug down on the shelf behind you. Staring into your embarrassed expression before leaning over and pulling you into him. You let out a small gasp, not having expected his reaction. Then your arms wound themselves around him once again.

He needed this.

It’d been so long since someone had held him in this way. Ali didn’t really do hugs. Not that Hassan was a big hugger anyway, but it felt nice to have someone to cling to sometimes. Your hands moved lightly against his back, a sort of gentle caress he hadn’t had in a while either. It made him hold onto you tighter, reveling in your embrace.

After a while Hassan released you, a flush of embarrassment gracing his features as he fully understood what had just occurred.

“Sorry. That was kind of out of character.”

“Hey if anyone should be apologizing it's me. I went in for the hug first.”

“I'm glad you did. I really needed that. Thank you.”

“Sometimes all you need is a good hug.”

“Never thought about it that way but you’re right.”

You smiled at him once again and he wished he could frame the look on your face up on his wall. Just so when he was feeling bad, he could look up at you and feel it all wash away.

“Do you always work here?”

“Yep. I didn’t come last week because I was sick. But other than that, I’m a model employee if I do say so myself.”

“Guess that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Might do us some good to get to know each other better. You know since we're sharing this space and all.”

“Not a bad idea. How about over dinner, at my place?”

You bit down at your lip as you waited for him to answer, afraid that maybe your request was a bit too forward.

“Sounds like a plan.

You looked up to find Hassan smiling down at you. You grinned up at him, watching as he grabbed his coffee mug from where he left it, taking a big sip before speaking.

“Was nice meeting you.”

“Right back at you Sheriff.”

Hassan walked away, listening to you as you continued stacking items on their respective shelves. He turned to watch you momentarily before walking into his little office.

Crockett may be a small town in the middle of nowhere. The people may not all be great. But it was people like you who made it feel like home.

Maybe moving hadn’t been such a bad decision.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

Enjoy my work? Consider supporting me by subscribing to my WordPress Blog!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva @katbratsupernaturalwhore

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[theladyofdeath]

Elain’s Pie {Part 3//Conclusion}

Part 1: Elain’s pov 

Part 2: Azriel’s pov 

NSFW. 18+. 

Shout out to Shelby for writing this with me!

Azriel stood outside of Elain’s apartment.

He had been standing there for five minutes, at least, unsure of what to do.

Well, he knew what to do.

Knock.

He should knock.

And, usually, knocking would not be a difficult task, but it was the first time he was seeing Elain since…

The incident. 

She had invited him to come over for dinner. Coincidentally, pie was for dessert. 

Azriel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before knocking on her front door, three times, avoiding the giant floral wreath that hung in the top center.

“Coming!” she heard him call.

His entire body flooded with nerves. As her footsteps approached along the wooden floorboards, Azriel felt like he was going to puke.

He should turn around.

He should go home.

He couldn’t stop imagining her breasts.

Damn it, Azriel, you’re a grown ass man, not some horny teenager with only his hand to-.

Elain opened the door, looking absolutely stunning in a lavender sundress. 

“Hey!” she beamed. “Come in, dinner’s almost ready.”

He nodded, and smiled, and walked inside, running a nervous hand through his cropped hair. “Smells good.”

“Yeah?” Elain asked. “Just a simple dinner of roasted chicken and carrots. Nothing fancy.”

Azriel nodded, and realized just how long it had been since he’d been in her apartment. Her pink roses must’ve died. In the middle of her kitchen table, lilies took their place. 

Elain chuckled as she swept past him, back into the kitchen. “Take off your shoes, get comfortable. You act like you’re a stranger.”

Azriel cleared his throat and quickly slipped off his Vans. “Sorry, I- I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It wasn’t a lie.

Knowing he was going to Elain’s, he didn’t sleep worth shit. 

“How come?” she asked, opening the oven to remove the pan within. 

Azriel hesitated. “Not sure,” he lied. “Air conditioning went out. I think I was just hot.”

Elain hummed as she put the hot dishes on top of the stove. The table was already set to perfection, in true Elain fashion, just for the two of them. “There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the freezer. Mind taking it out?”

Azriel nodded and did as she asked. After taking out the bottle of moscato, he found the corkscrew and popped it open. After filling the two glasses on the table, he set it to the side. 

“Can I help with anything else?” he asked.

Elain shook her head as she carried a dish of roasted chicken surrounded by vegetables to the table. “Sit. Make yourself comfortable.”

He did as she asked.

Once he was seated at the table, he continued to watch her. 

“You’re acting strange,” she said, bustling about the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to their meal.

No, not at all, I’m just wondering if you’re wearing that same scrap of lace under your dress tonight. I just keep thinking about it.

“Just tired, is all,” he lied, but then he slipped in a kernel of truth. “A lot on my mind.”

“Well that’s what dinners with your best friend are for,” she replied, rounding the corner and taking the seat across from him. A soft smile that was so quintessentially Elain bloomed in her lips. “So you can relax and get whatever’s on your mind off of it.”

Looking at those lips, he knew there was no chance in hell he’d be able to get the image of her wearing nearly nothing out of his mind. Or the images his mind had come up with, based on pure creativity of his own.

Luckily for him, she hadn’t left much to the imagination. 

“Help yourself, please,” she said, motioning to the plate between them. She took her glass of wine and sipped from the rim. Azriel tracked the movement. 

When it was clear he wasn’t moving, Elain set down her glass. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

“What?” Azriel asked. “No. No, it’s not-.”

“I was afraid this would be awkward, and it’s so awkward,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.

Azriel laughed, quietly. “Elain, it’s not awkward.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” she asked, meeting his eyes. 

Azriel hesitated. “I’m not acting weird.”

“I know you better than anyone,” Elain said, pointedly. “You’re acting weird.” 

Azriel looked down at his empty plate, then back up at her. “Maybe we should talk about it.”

They hadn’t talked about it since that first night, since the night Azriel opened his phone to see a sight he never thought he’d have the honor of seeing, and then it was just him joking around to make her feel comfortable and less embarrassed.

Elain nodded, slowly. “Okay. We can talk about it.”

He had suggested they talk about it, yet he had no idea where to start. What exactly to say. He went with the question that had been eating him alive since she explained it wasn’t the picture she meant to send him.

It didn’t explain why the picture existed.

“Why did you even have that picture?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light. He even took a sip of the sweet wine to appear like he wasn’t about to tear out of his skin. “Was it for…someone else?”

They told each other everything. As far as he was aware, she hasn’t been seeing anyone else. Her breakup with Greyson four months ago had been catastrophic enough that she had decided she wanted to be single for a while. Granted, it had been a while, at this point, but he hadn’t heard her talk about a potential beau during any of their dinners, texts or phone calls.

“No!” She blushed, covering her own face. “No, of course not. I never take pictures like that.”

He refrained from telling her that he had seen proof that was a lie, at least once, but let her go on. “I just… I thought I looked good while I was getting dressed that morning. I was…feeling myself.”

Azriel bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Feeling yourself, huh?”

“Yes, feeling myself,” she repeated, and Azriel noted her cheeks had turned a darker shade of pink. “I’d never even taken a picture like that...and I wanted to know what I’d look like on camera.” She shook her head and breathed a laugh. “It was stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Azriel said, a little too quickly. Elain raised a brow, and he cleared his throat. “The picture wasn’t stupid. You looked…amazing. Incredibly attractive.”

Elain nibbled on her bottom lip as she said, “Of course you’d think that. I was nude and you’re a man.”

It was a joke, Azriel knew that, but Elain’s voice was far too quiet and insecure for the punchline to really hit.

Azriel just shook his head. “You always look amazing, Elain. I was attracted to you long before I saw you naked.”

There it was.

The confession.

Elain’s lip fell from between her teeth.

Before she could say anything back, he began scooping chicken and vegetables on his plate. “Smells amazing. I’m starving.”

That quickly, he tried to shove what he’d said under the rug.

For a second, she debated pushing him, those words, words she’d never expected to hear from him… They filled her with far more of a thrill than she expected.

So she let him steer the conversation to safer topics, let him drain his own glass and then refill it.

They ate.

They made small talk, talked about their weeks and work and what was going on with their friends. The conversation grew lighter with each word, and that awkwardness they had found themselves in had slowly faded away.

As dinner wrapped up and their plates were cleared, the wine bottle found itself empty.

Elain stood and cleared their plates only to return to the table a moment later with another bottle of wine and dessert.

“I hope you saved room for pie,” she said, setting it down in front of him.

His cheeks heated and he cleared his throat. “Absolutely. Always room for pie.”

The second the words left his mouth he wanted to take them back. Gods, his head was swimming. That was the dumbest thing he could have said, considering.

He could see the smile trying to form as she cut into it and placed a slice on his plate. “Good. I’m proud of this one. It’s a new recipe I found.”

As she leaned over, the dress she wore gave him an unintentional view of her cleavage and he forgot how to breathe. “I’m sure it will be the breast— I mean, best! The best you’ve ever made.”

Mother’s tits, he was hopeless. He was no better than a thirteen-year-old discovering the Internet for the first time. He couldn’t drag his eyes from her cleavage and knew drinking anymore of that sweet wine would land him in so much shit, he would have no idea how to get out of it.

Elain was looking at him. With the smallest, sweetest of smiles, she asked, “Breast?”

“I said best.”

“You said breast.”

“I did not.”

“Are you going to think about my boobs every time I offer you pie?”

Azriel opened his mouth, then shut his mouth just as quickly. “I’m trying not to, but it’s a little hard.”

“It’s a little hard?” she repeated, brows shooting up as she looked down, as if she could see through the tabletop to his jeans.

“No- not- I’m not….it’s hard not to think about…” Azriel sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Nevermind.” 

Elain suppressed the smile on her lips, and when Azriel opened her eyes and met her gaze, the amused expression on her face had him laughing, quietly. She reached over and refilled his glass. 

“I’m not mad about it, you know,” she said, quietly.

“About what?” Azriel asked, indulging himself with more wine.

“That you can’t seem to get that picture out of your mind.” 

“Good, cause it’s not likely to go anywhere any time soon,” he admitted, thinking back to what else he’d admitted earlier in the night.

She took a drink of her own wine as she sat down next to him, in the spot closer, rather than the seat across the table. “So. Have you ever sent any accidental embarrassing photos of yourself?”

He nearly choked on the bite of pie he’d been taking, and he had to admit, it was pretty damn good. “Have I ever…accidentally sent a dick pic to someone?”

She laughed softly, the sound of it skittering across his bones, and said, “Well, a topless picture of you wouldn’t be nearly as scandalous. So yeah.”

“Never on accident,” Azriel replied, clearing his throat. “Almost did the other night though.”

As soon as the words were out, he wished he could take them back. Especially as he saw her eyes widen.

He was drunk. He must have been so damn drunk to be saying the dumb shit he was saying.

“To me?” she asked, as if she didn’t already know the answer and needed clarification. 

“That’s typically the response, isn’t it?” Azriel asked, unable to control the words coming out of his mouth. “You get a naked picture, you send one back. Until you texted saying it was an accident, I was…thinking about it, yeah.”

Elain nodded, slowly, pursing her lips. “And what would it have looked like?”

The words were quiet, hardly audible, but her deep brown eyes were lit up, waiting for his answer.

Azriel hesitated. “I’m not… I don’t know,” he laughed, and a giggle escaped Elain. “It looks like it looks, I guess.”

“That doesn’t give me a lot to create a mental picture,” Elain said.

“Are you trying to create a mental picture?” Azriel asked.

“It’s only fair, isn’t it?” she asked. 

Azriel simply lifted a brow.

She took another sip of her wine and shrugged, asking, “You said you thought I was attractive, right?”

He nodded, not trusting his mouth to not say something stupid anymore.

“What if I said I found you attractive, too?” She raised an eyebrow and waited.

Azriel waited, too, not saying a word.

Her grin grew. “What if I told you I’d thought about it before?”

He blinked and choked. “You’ve thought about— Really?”

She laughed, the sound bright and amused. “I showed you mine, you show me yours.”

Azriel stared at her, eyes narrowed. “I feel like this is a trick.” 

“It’s not a trick.”

“Are we drunk?”

Elain took a moment to think about it. “I don’t think so.”

Azriel chuckled, knowing full well that she was full of shit. “Fine, you win.”

She raised a brow. “Show me.”

“Patience,” Azriel crooned. “I’m eating my pie.”

Elain leaned over to his plate, dug her finger into the filling and brought it to her lips, sucking it off her fingertip.

Azriel watched her, his heavy breaths going shallow. 

“It is delicious,” she said, giving him one of those bright, heart-stopping smiles.

That smile spurred him into motion. Reaching over, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards him, meeting her in the middle. The kiss was soft and sweet and it took everything in Azriel not to nibble on that full bottom lip. He felt her fingers grip his collar, pulling him closer to her and he kissed her until she was breathless.

Pulling away, she stood, smirking, and asked, “Are you all done with your pie?”

In answer, Azriel stood and scooped her up, his mouth instantly finding hers, hungrily. Her legs wrapped around his waist, the skirt of her dress sliding up her thighs. 

She clung to him, and it felt...right.

He had felt Elain’s arms around him a million times throughout the years, but those were only simple, friendly hugs.

This was something entirely different. This was desperation, heat, an awkward situation had turned into years of emotion tumbling out of them.

I showed you mine, you show me yours.

Oh, he would, he would show her everything, anything she wanted. He was in her grasp, and he didn’t want her to let go.

Azriel stumbled into Elain’s bedroom, his lips still on hers. She bit his bottom lip and tugged and the low growl that escaped Azriel had Elain’s fingers digging into his back. 

Azriel dropped Elain onto her bed and she landed, perfectly, her hair spilling into a crown around her head. She watched him, eyes bright.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want to-.”

“I showed you mine,” she interrupted. “Fair is fair.”

Azriel stepped forward and reached for the hem of his henley, quickly pulling it over his head.

Elain pushed herself up into a sitting position at the foot of her bed and reached out, her fingertips brushing along his inked abdomen. 

Azriel held his breath.

Moving her fingers up his abdomen, Elain studied him. When she reached his chest, she began to trace the lines of his tattoos. She would stop at every scar and brush her thumb along it, as if giving it extra recognition and appreciation. 

When her hands moved back down, she paused at the waistline of his jeans, riding low on his hips. She traced his happy trail until she ran into the button of his jeans, and slowly undid it, bringing his zipper down just after. 

She didn’t wait, didn’t want to waste any more time by teasing him, and tugged his jeans off. He kicked them off, left in just a pair of tight, black boxer briefs.

“You’re sure about this?” Azriel breathed. Not because he didn’t want it, gods, he’d never wanted anything more than he’d wanted Elain. He’d been falling for her for years. But he knew there was a line that was about to be crossed that there was no coming back from.

Smirking, she slid her finger inside the waistband of his underwear, slowly running it back and forth, hip to hip. “Something to hide in there? Is he shy?”

“Absolutely not,” he replied. He was straining against the fabric and he knew Elain could see that.

With a nibble on her bottom lip, she looked up at him beneath lowered lashes and said, “I want to see your cock, Az. I want this.”

The words were the most vulgar thing he’d ever heard from her, and he was so stunned and turned on by them that he could only nod.

She tugged his boxer-briefs down and he sprung free.

Elain stilled as her eyes widened, taking him in. She took a raggedy breath, and Azriel watched every single movement that radiated off of her. The way her eyes took in every inch, the way her lips parted, the way her chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. 

She wrapped her hands around his cock before leaning forward and brushing her tongue over the head. Azriel cursed, hardly able to breathe. There were many ways he thought this would go, but her mouth around him?

It wasn’t one of them.

Not that he was complaining.

He sure as hell wasn’t complaining. 

His hands were fisted at his sides, terrified that if he moved, if he did anything to frighten her, she’d stop, and right now needed to know what her mouth felt like. He needed to feel the warm wetness and thought he might die if she stopped.

And thank the cauldron, she didn’t.

Elain let her tongue pass over the swollen head again, once, twice, before those full, pink lips wrapped around him.

Azriel was unable to stop the groan as his head fell back, but he forced himself to look down, not wanting to miss a second of her mouth on him.

Her eyes were shut and she kept a hand firm around the base of him as she worked him.

“Fuck, Elain,” he breathed, letting his hand slip into the mass of her golden-brown hair. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him.

Azriel had always loved getting lost in the deep caramel depths of her big, brown eyes. However, there was an entirely different feeling those big, brown eyes gave him as they eyed him through her long, dark lashes while her lips were wrapped around his cock.

And with her lips wrapped around his cock, and her eyes on his, Elain slid the straps of her dress down until it was a pool of lavender fabric around her knees. 

Her lips let him go with a soft pop. “Do you want to fuck me, Azriel?”

With every word, her breath was warm against his sensitive skin. She slowly stood, her hands trailing along his skin as she did so. Once she stood, Elain slipped off her bra, then slid down her panties.

The only part of Elain he had yet to see was now on full display.

Quietly, she laid back on her bed and spread her legs open wide before motioning Azriel to come toward her. The breath was knocked out of him as he cursed, and his knees hit the bed as he studied Elain’s perfectly shaved, pretty pink pussy. 

With a growl he’d never heard come out of himself, Azriel lined himself up at her entrance.

She gripped the sheets beneath her, and Azriel gripped her hips.

“Ready?” he asked, quietly.

Her cheeks were rosy. “Yes, please-.”

There was a knock on the door.

Azriel’s head swung around. “The fuck was that?”

Elain blinked. “What was what? Azriel, fuck me-.”

That knock came, once again. 

“Azriel,” Elain pleaded. “Fuc-.”

That knock came again, and Azriel’s eyes shot open. 

Elain wasn’t spread out before him, begging him to fuck her. He wasn’t in her bedroom, he wasn’t even in her house.

No, as Azriel blinked, his surroundings became clearer and he sat up, looking around his own living room.

He’d fallen asleep on his couch after work, his quick, shitty dinner of frozen pizza and a Jack and Coke still sitting on the coffee table.

And his cock was incredibly, painfully hard.

He fell back against the cushioned arm rest, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s was dream. It had all just been a damn dream and—.

Another knock came from the door and he realized that that had been what pulled him from the most amazing dream he’d ever had, right before he’d been about to fuck Elain.

Before he’d been about to fuck his best friend.

“Az?” a familiar, high-pitched voice called. “Are you okay? I thought I saw your truck in the lot.”

Elain.

He looked down to the pitched tent just below the waistband of his sweatpants. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Hey! I, uh, I’m coming.”

No, he wasn’t.

And that was the real problem on so many different levels. He stood, and with his eyes closed, he took a couple of deep breaths. 

Dead puppies. The end of The Notebook. Bad whiskey.

As he walked toward the front door, Azriel continued to think of things that made him sad, hoping his dick would get its shit together before he opened the door.

“Az, it’s raining!” Elain yelled, and he could hear the laughter in her voice.

A sound that made all the sad things Azriel was trying to think about completely vanish.

When he decided that little Azriel was calm enough, he opened the door. Elain stood on his doormat, rain drops falling onto her hair, in jeans and a t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” he said, unable to control his grin. “I didn’t know you were coming by.”

“I texted you about an hour ago,” she said, as he stepped aside to let her in.

“I accidentally fell asleep on the couch,” he said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. In the process, he highlighted his piss poor meal.

She laughed. “It’s a good thing I brought this then,” she said, lifting the dish in her hands.

He somehow hadn’t even noticed it, but he froze and asked, “Brought what?”

Elain’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink as she set the dish down on his kitchen table. “It, uh, is an apology pie.”

Azriel stopped on the other side of his table and chuckled. “I’m sorry, it’s a what?”

Elain sighed and covered her face with her hands. “This is an I’m sorry I sent you a picture of my breasts pie.”

Azriel couldn’t help his laughter. “Do people usually make pies for such occasions?”

“I do,” Elain replied, taking the lid off her dish. “And be happy about it, because it’s apple, and it’s going to be delicious.”

Azriel watched her for a moment before he nodded and went to retrieve two plates and forks. When he turned back around, Elain was watching him. 

“I…thought this would be awkward,” Elain confessed as Azriel sat across from her at the table.

“Why?” Azriel asked, cutting the pie. “Cause I’ve seen your tits?” 

Elain’s face turned as red as a tomato as she kicked his shin under the table. “I just… I don’t want this to change anything, you know? You’re my best friend, Az. You’re the one steady thing in my life and I don’t want that changing.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, plopping a massive piece of pie onto his plate. “It’s already forgotten about, alright? I haven’t even thought about that picture once.”

Elain lifted a brow. “Are you lying?”

“I would never lie to you,” he said, lying through his teeth. He’d thought about that picture every day, both when he was awake and, apparently, while he slept, too. 

“Good,” Elain said, helping herself to the dessert. 

Without another word on the subject, Azriel helped himself to Elain’s pie. 

[keilemlucent]

take care of me

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks

keigo is perfectly happy to help you forget a stressful day

warnings: daddy kink (no age play), spanking, aftercare, praise kink, self indulgent smut, spit kink <333333, bdsm, masochist reader 

...

self indulgent..... caregiver dom keigo? we knew it was coming. enjoy loves <333

||||||||||||||||||||||

You ached all over.

The mental exhaustion of the day was far more grating than the physical, but the dull throb of your tired muscles was impossible to ignore, even when you were only half-conscious on the couch. 

You were put out. 

You’d been burrowed under a pile of blankets since you’d stumbled into the penthouse after work, curling up without even bothering to take off your shoes.

Night had fallen, the apartment cold, silent and still. Normally, you might’ve whipped up some dinner or showered, maybe done something productive.

But not that night.

You’d held yourself together through the day. Each angry word and sneer you faced was handled with a smile, despite how you were cracking inside. You even managed to keep an even expression when your scalding morning coffee was splattered over your shirt, almost burning you.

Well, you weren’t sure if it hadn’t. You hadn’t checked, considering you were still wearing the stained garment. Maybe, the skin of your stomach was as inflamed and puckered as it felt.

Maybe that was just your mood.

...

You hardly stirred when the balcony door of the apartment slid open and then shut, Keigo’s ruffling and booted footsteps echoing across over the apartment.

Your eyes stay half-lidded and hazy when Keigo rounds the couch, eyes softening as he notices your cocoon of blankets.

“Hey, dove,” Dropping to his knees neck to the couch, he cups the side of your cheek in a gloved hand, “Feeling a bit tired?”

You nodded, lips still sealed.

There was nothing in you to give, just the slow simmering of exhaustion and sadness that you couldn’t escape.

Keigo’s gaze softened, gold and far-too pretty in the dim light of the living room, “Bad day?”

“Y-yeah.”

Your voice cracked when you spoke, the words going grainy as your chest tightened.

As you sniffled, burying your face into the blankets as unwelcome tears stung at the corners of your eyes.

Very bad day.

He shed his jacket and gloves, tossing them to the side without a care. Keigo coaxed you to rise, only enough for him to slip into the blankets, laying underneath you to pull your head to his chest.

“I’ve gotcha’, dove,” He hummed, pressing kiss after kiss into your hair. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

You didn’t respond, only bit your lip and buried your face into his chest.

Keigo had just arrived home after a long day, and the last thing you wanted was to be a chore to deal with consider how fucking trashed you felt. The idea of being a burden— 

His voice shocked you from your thoughts. 

“Do you want daddy to take care of it?” 

His words and all of their insinuations washed over you.

You knew Keigo had no issues taking that role— fuck, he confided in you many, many times that he loved being able to take care of you in any and all ways. 

Giving it a name, an identity, made him purr with pride. 

You swallowed, the idea curling your head. Catharsis by Keigo’s hand sounded fucking fantastic in the most gut-rotting way.

You nodded.

Keigo smiled against your hair, his own insides twisting. He’d had his own day of annoyance and had been more than ready and willing to come home to you and blow off some steam, but if this was what you needed, he was more than willing to provide and have a fantastic time doing it. 

Keigo hummed, smoothing his hands up your sides. “So what are you feeling?” He knew you wouldn’t be great at giving anything other than ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answers, but he could try and coax a bit more out of you. 

Options.

“I could start off slow, just how you like,” His voice curled over your ear with a nip as he slid his thumbs beneath your waistband. “Let you rut on my thigh like the cute little dove you are. If you’re good, maybe you could suck daddy’s cock while I lick your pussy clean.”

You buried your face in his neck, a high whine echoing from the back of your throat.

Keigo felt his cock twitch, wings stirring from their crunched position.

“Or, I could knot your wrist tight, give them those nice, pretty burns, tie you to the bottom of the couch and fuck you into the floor.”

You buried yourself deeper, all of the ideas in your head were alluring, but not quite right.

A kinder option was also a good idea. 

“Or, I could hold you nice and tight like this for a while. Maybe take a bath, use that new massage oil we ordered, rub you down until all of that tension is pulled out by my hands.”

The pads of Keigo’s fingers rolled into the knots in your shoulders, some of the stress dripping away with the preview of his words. 

It took the softness to realize what you really needed:

“I want it to hurt.”

Oh, and fuck, you wanted it to so bad.

You wanted to be fucked up and used so bad you could barely move. Fucked stupid, so all of the nasty thoughts of the day would melt away. 

Keigo practically rumbled beneath you, his wings flexing and puffing up against your back, just inches from your face.

He wanted it— no, needed it, just as bad as you. 

He took a few deep breaths beneath you, his hand wandering to settle with a bruising grip at the fat above your waist.

“Gimme your taps,” Keigo nuzzled against your cheek.

“One tap is that I’m good, two taps is slow down, three taps is stop, four taps is that I’m having trouble talking.”

It was an easy system, one you and Keigo had adapted to suit your needs and the often merciless ways he’d lay you to ruin. 

“Perfect, dove, god,” Keigo sang his words like sweet prayers. Slowly, he sat up, still holding you tight to his chest. “You go wash up quick in the bedroom, I’ll get myself all settled and ready. Wear whatever you’d like and shout if you need me, okay?”

You swallowed, gut turning.

“O-Okay, I love you.

“I love you too, so fucking much.”

...

You took a few minutes in the bathroom to ground yourself. You still felt like shit, but in the way that now craved something different and more carnal to get it to fall away and release.

You trusted Keigo with everything in you. He knew how to pick you apart just the way you needed. 

You wandered back into the living room, padding in quietly in a pair of fluffy socks, an oversized tee that hung just below your ass, and a pair of shorts that showed the barest bits of your cheeks.

Keigo was in the kitchen, the hilt of the knife clicking against the metal of the rings he wore as he chopped up a few of your favorite fruits and placed them into a wooden bowl.

He’d changed as well, looking sharper and much more like the ‘daddy Keigo’ that you knew. His black pants were sharp and perfectly fitted, along with the black mock neck he wore. He accessorized with a few rings on each hand and a chain necklace laying over his collarbones.

Keigo’s eyes flickered up to you as you regarded him, a little grin beginning to grow.

“Seems I overdressed.” His wings flared behind him, unable to hide his excitement the same way his face was. 

“I-I can change—” 

“Absolutely not,” Keigo slid around the kitchen island, tsking quietly. “You’re perfect, just like this.”

You didn’t reply, not until Keigo stopped in front of your and grabbed your jaw, pulling your gaze to him.

“Sweetness,” His affections rolled over your skull in the exact way you needed. “Do you want me to take care of you?”

“P-Please.”

The word was desperate, shaking and shuddering as it slipped from lips.

Keigo’s smile grows wider, his plumage ruffling.

“Sweet girl, try again.”

Your lip wobbled as he stroked down at your pulse point. 

“Please, d-daddy.”

What a role to have.

Keigo loved it, notably.

It had started early, that incessant itch to care for you in any way that he could was semi-insatiable until he started to indulge it to his heart's content. You thrived off it too, needing that personal attention that he was so willing to give. And hell, it wasn’t like you didn’t return it constantly with endless love and sweetness.

He just took care of you. 

The details, all the small things he’d gathered about since you’d gotten together (and before then too) were things he cherished. Little things about you he wasn’t even sure you noticed, he collected them and accommodated them in any way he could. 

There was the more mundane, like your favorite smells and tastes and touches. The knowledge of the best textures of clothes and blankets that he loved to gift you and your favorite spices and sweets were coveted. 

There was the more intimate, too.

He had taken breaking you apart with pleasure as a divine rite, that first time he got you on the silken sheets of his bed. Learning every twitch and shudder and what it meant felt like his life’s goal as he buried his face in your cunt.

You liked it all, notably. 

You thrived off the attention, though it took a while for you to accept that ‘yes, you do indeed deserve this, very much so.’ 

Once more, you returned it. Perhaps you weren’t quite as perceptive as Keigo was, you didn’t have the training (thank god), but you did constantly return love to him. Your own touch and kind words more comforting than anything he’d ever received in his fucking life.

He could only return the favor by taking care of you in any way that you needed.

And that night?

You needed to hurt. 

And Keigo, truthfully, was in the mood to get a bit of tied up anger out in the sweetest way possible. 

...

Keigo drifted to the couch, your hand in his with you in tow. You were so meek that day, eyes downcast.

He’d have to be careful, watch your body and expressions and not push you too far. He trusted you to call things off, but he still never hurt you beyond what you could handle.

Besides, Keigo had crafted a wonderful plan that he was fairly (very) certain you would enjoy.

Keigo sat down on the couch, thighs parted the slightest bit, a half-chub already pressing against his trouser.

“Lie down, dove,” He kept his voice so sweet as he tapped his thigh. “Let me help you.”

You scrunched your shirt in your hands, mind beginning to get pleasantly hazy with his words and you laid yourself over his lap. You adjusted with your arms cushioning your head, knees pressed against the cushion. 

“Talk to me, sweetness— What’s going on?” Keigo spoke as he nudged your hips upwards, your back bowing and arching under his touch.

 “Just a bad day,” You swallowed, burying your face into the cushions. “I don’t want to think about it.”

Your head was already swimming, you didn’t want to mentally relive how awful the day had been— 

“Then let’s make it good, hm?” Keigo mused, cupping your ass through your shorts and squeezing. “Make you forget in your favorite way. I know how much you like this.”

You tried to speak, but your jaw snapped shut with a click and a cry as Keigo’s palm smacked over the fat of your ass.

“You just need a little bit of extra help today, hm?” Keigo smoothed his hand over where he had struck. The motion was tender in the same way his words were, washing over you enough to almost distract from the pain that was just beginning. 

“Uh-huh,” You replied, weak and muffled into the fabric beneath you.

Another strike sent you pressing into the cushions, whining against upholstery as Keigo rubbed over your skin was against, his other hand going to stabilize your back, tracing his name and little hearts over your spine. 

“‘Uh-huh’, who?” 

“Daddy!” You screamed with the next strike. Your words melded with the echo of the sounds of your flesh.

Keigo was beaming at you, you could feel it. His wings were puffed up, rippling in time with heavy breathing.

“Good girl, god, dove, perfect,” He leaned down to press a kiss to the back of your head while smoothing a hand beneath your shorts. “You’re just so good. You deserve so much good, you know that?”

You nodded as Keigo shucked your shorts to the ground, pushing up your shirt to leave most of you bare to him.

It felt vulnerable, despite having been in this position before. 

“I d-do,” You stuttered, words sticky. “I am good.”

It felt real, for a moment, brightened by the sharp pain that was growing constant from your cheeks.

“God, perfect,” Keigo waxed, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing. “Here’s what you’re gonna do sweetness— here’s how I’m gonna take care of you today.”

His hand slid between your clenched thighs, pushing them apart and barely teasing your slit, “You’re gonna hurt for me, so fucking good. I’m gonna give you... twenty-five, how does that sound?”

You nodded, an answer Keigo accepted.

“Good,” You could hear his grin. “You’re gonna take each one so well, I know you will, dove.”

The expectation hurt so bad you winced. 

Keigo hushed you with a hand to the back of your neck, “It’s alright, I’ll be right here. Just want to break you a little bit, hm?”

You whined this time, shifting your thighs together as Keigo chuckled. 

“Maybe a lot, but we’ll see. I don’t want you thinking after this.”

Holy fuck, neither did you. You’d be content to be close to braindead when Keigo was through with you. 

Any reply you had was just a warbled moan into the cushion below as Keigo slapped his hand down once more.

“Count, sweetness.”

“O-one.”

Another smack, to the other cheek, flesh growing hot. 

“T-two— “

And Keigo didn’t fucking relent.

Each smack was hard, the fat of your ass jiggling and burning against the flat of his palm. The knick of his rings against the soft flesh only added to burn and sting. 

Perhaps, in other conditions, Keigo would have built up to the level of pain he was providing. Preamble a bit with some softer touches and sweet words as opposed to relentlessly spanking your ass so hard you swore you could already feel welts forming from the rings he wore.

“T-t— Ten!” 

Your voice cracked in your throat, each impact bringing up sprinklings of tears that were rubbed into the couch. 

All the harshness of his strikes was in harmony with the sinfully soft way he was touching you otherwise.

A gentle hand running through your hair, mindful of any knots or tangles. His fingertips stroked up and down your neck, nails teasing the thin skin just below your ear. Even the way he rubbed at your flesh between strikes was so fucking tender, despite how his touch made the hot skin boil even more.

Your first muffled sob was what got him going verbally.

“Oh, wow,” Keigo whistled to himself, a sharp-nailed finger running up your spine. “Are you crying already, sweetness? Does this hurt too bad?”

“N-no,” You forced the words out, even as they clung to the back of your tongue. 

The confusing feelings and emotions thrumming through you made you want to just let go. The tears mixed with the loving fullness in your chest, all counterpointed by hot pain that was ripping through your nerves from the bruises and singed skin from your ongoing spanking. 

Not to mention the slick coating your thighs— 

“Seems not,” Keigo clicked his tongue, pausing to run a finger over your slit. “Still dripping for me, even when I’m touching you like this?”

He spanked you again, right over a pre-existing welt.

You sputtered in the cushions, almost sobbing but still trying to hold onto a semblance of your composure.

Keigo could see it in the rigidity of your shoulders. No matter how he pressed into the muscles in time with the strikes he dealt, you just wouldn’t loosen up.

You shook against the cushions below, exertion from holding your arched back clear.

Keigo hummed to himself.

You said you wanted it to hurt, right?

And God, if he wasn’t going to deliver. 

In a flurry of motion, Keigo shifted, bringing you with him.

Your cheek remained against the leather of the couch, blood rushing to your head as your ass was thrown up and over the armrest. 

Keigo stood up, wings unrestrained and extended. You couldn’t see the angry, red plumage, only the shadow it threw over you.

“Oh, dove,” Keigo waxed. “You just need a bit more, right?”

Another strike.

“F-f— Fifteen— “

“You’ve had such a rough day, haven’t you?” 

His words stir something vile in your soupy brain, a whimper leaking through your parted lips.

(Maybe, you were more fucked out than you thought.)

He hushed you with a yank on your hair, forcing your back and neck to bow.

“My dove just needs to know how loved they are, hm?”

You nodded, his grip tightening but you could hardly care. Each spark of pain felt so fucking good, your lingering barriers broke down more and more with each one of Keigo’s touches.

Whether they were that syrupy comforting kind or burning, bruising kind, you couldn’t care or tell. The blend of it all was flooding through you so well, all you could do was blubber out numbers between bursts of tears and ‘more’s and ‘please’es.

“T-we— n— ty!” The syllables felt choppy, maybe, but you hardly cared.

“Good girl, fuck,” Keigo gritted out, palming the front of his trouser. He’d been graciously (read: cruelly) ignoring your dripping cunt as well as his own ache throughout your spanking session.

He’d make sure the two of you were satisfied by the time it was all over.

You did have five strikes left.

 “Taps for me, love,” Keigo’s rubbed at your back, hips bumping into your broiled ass. 

You gave the leather below a single hard tap.

All good.

“Perfect.”

 And with very little reverie, a few of Keigo’s feathers shot from his wings, wrapping around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the leather.

And with even less reverie, Keigo’s spread your asscheeks wide and spat onto your cunt.

“K-Keigo!”

His name ripped from your throat, mixing with a shriek as the cold spit went clammy against your burning flesh.

“Try again, sweetness.” 

The next strike was hard, and Keigo’s hold didn’t shift from your cheeks. 

He’d hardened two fucking feathers.

Larger ones, broader enough to strike down at the top of the curve of your ass with a swift flick.

They were so much harder than his hands. 

So.

Much.

Harder.

Harsher.

Crueler. 

“D-daddy!”

You corrected yourself instantly, clawing into the cushions. Your chest burned as your sobs turned to weepings, your cheeks singeing with each harsh breath.

“Tw— e— nty one!

You barely managed to get the words out before Keigo buried his face in your cunt.

And fuck, did he eat you like the prized meal you were. His words be damned, he had plenty of ways to break you down beyond his verbal praise. 

He lapped at the tacky slick on your thighs, licking up to tease at your pussy with the tip of his tongue. The stubble along his chin roughed up your most precious bits, but you didn’t mind.

If anything, you wanted it to hurt more. 

For that reason, his feathers could finish the job. They surely had a harder hit than his hands had.

Based on the way you were quaking against him, stammering and blabbering little pleads and adorations, they were doing their job.

Broken little thing, weren’t you?

But that was the point, of course. 

“Four more, dove,” Keigo murmured against your folds. “Say thank you with each one, dove. Keep being good for me.”

The command was all you needed, hurriedly nodding into the tear-soaked fabric below.

The feathers struck down again, skin breaking.

“T— wen-ty two!” 

Keigo chuckled against your cunt, pulling away only to tease slide his fingers over your clit, “Feeling good?”

“T-Thank you!”

Oh, you were fucking braindead. 

Keigo was all too pleased, a few smaller feathers going to prop up your hips as they trembled.

“Good,” His words were muffled by your sex, but neither of you had the mind to care about words. It was all in the soup of sounds that kept you rutting back into his tongue. “Keep going.”

The next strike was so loud, it eclipsed the sound of your own shriek.

“TW— wenty three! Thank you!”

Keigo could feel you wheeze, but no taps came.

No reason not to continue.

His own pants felt tight as he rolled his hips into the side of the couch, eyes rolling back into his head as your cunt gushed around him.

Your entire body was thrumming, pulsing from the inside out with what had to be pain, but you could hardly tell. You were spinning somewhere harsh and fast and you didn’t dare try to rationalize it.

All you could ground yourself on was the slap of Keigo’s feathers and the feel of him eating you in earnest.

It was enough, barely.

The next slap just added to your feelings. 

 “TWE— EN— ty f-four! T-thank you!”

Keigo pulled away, wiping your arousal from around his lips and scooting around the couch to get a better look at your face.

As absolutely hot as he was, and how desperately he wanted to eat you up until he burst, he also knew he was pushing you fairly hard.

“Sweetness, ready to take your last one?” 

Keigo ran his fingers through your hair as your eyes focused on him in their half-lidded position. 

“I-I can’t do it, daddy.”

He paused.

You’d have given taps if you wanted to stop, truly. He trusted you on that.

“Yes, you can,” Keigo cooed, thumbing a bit of drool over your cheek. “I know you can.”

“I-I can’t,” You sobbed out, burying your face into the couch. Despite your words, you stayed tense and rigid.

All you needed was a little push.

Keigo took to leaving gentle touches across your back, rubbing out your tension wherever he found it knotted. Your weeping didn’t fully subside, but it certainly quieted as you took gulps of breath was some gentle coaching.

“Can you take one more for me? For your daddy?” Keigo glowed with pride as he spoke, seeing the way your eyes lit up and your head bobbed against the cushions.

“Uh-huh,” You leaned into his touch where you could. “One m-more, f-for you.”

You gave a single tap into the cushions.

 Keigo couldn’t help but be proud of you as you readjusted, arch going harsher and deeper.

He’d finished your spanking off with his hand, you earned it after taking so much so well.

The large feathers returned to him, while a single small one drifted between your sticky thighs to part your folds.

Slowly, the plume circled around your clit, lapping at the nub as his tongue would, your juices soaking it all the same. 

Even as Keigo laid the most gentle touch on your ass, the throb and burn of it made your whimper and whine. 

One more.

Just one more strike and all of that mundane stress and anger would be broken off from you and dissolved in a puddle of your own tears.

“When I give you your last one, you’re going to cum all over that feather for me, dove, understand?”

You nodded, hurriedly, barely grinding against the stimulation. 

Keigo wound up, wings extended and full, before putting all of his weight into his swing.

His palm hit your rear with such a crack that it broke both of you.

You screamed, shrieked, as your thighs clenched and gave out beneath you. Any cries you’d be managing to hold back ripped from your throat with the last smack as your cunt clenched and pleasure exploded in your gut. 

Barely, you managed to speak through your tears.

“Twenty-f-five.. .. thank you....” 

Keigo had to take a moment himself, breathing hard and particularly weak-kneed. 

The sweet cry that had torn from your mouth was all he needed to be pushed over the edge, his cock twitching and spurting while hardly even being touched.

He was impressed, with both himself and you.

“God, dove, you did so well for me,” Keigo wiped the salt from his brow, ignoring his creamed pants to slip onto the couch and pull you into his arms.

You were half-lucid, sticky with sweat and arousal but you couldn’t find yourself to care. All you could fixate on was the feel of Keigo’s heat and the ruffle of his feathers as you settled into his lap.

Keigo pressed kisses against your temples and cheeks, positioning your thighs around his own and allowing you to sag into his chest. 

You clung to him with everything you had as you spun down from your high.

He whispered little affections to you, small praises and love for doing so ‘well for him’ and ‘how good you took it, took it all’. 

A few of his feathers came and went carrying a bowl of fruit, chilled and cut up into bite-sized pieces.

From your haze, Keigo pressed a piece of sweetness to your lips.

“Eat, love, take it,” He purred as you opened your mouth just enough for the fruit to slip in. You chewed slowly, focusing on the flavor and texture before swallowing.

The spare drool that slipped from the corner of your mouth was quickly scooped up by Keigo’s thumb, gathered and popped into his own mouth.

His feathers rippled.

“I feel a lot better,” You slurred into the crook of his neck. “Thank you.”

Keigo chuckled, something high and light that made your guts turn anew. His hand brushed over the meat of your ass, bruised and covered in welts, “You’re welcome, but...”

His touch hurt, but in the best way.

A pleasant reminder.

“How does this feel?” 

“Painful, but good,” You hummed, opening your mouth for another piece of fruit. The tartness of the bite brought you closer to lucidity. “You’re too good to me, you know.”

“Flattery, when you’re this fucked out? I’m impressed,” Keigo pulled you closer by the small of your back. “Rest for a little bit, then I’ll clean us up, sound good?”

“Very,” You circled your arms around him, locking your hands just below his wings. “But... ‘us’?”

“I might’ve nutted. Maybe.”

You snorted, but you were quickly quieted by another piece of sweetness and plenty of distracting affection.

Desperately needed, by both you. 

....

thank you for reading!!! check out my links (ko-fi, ao3, and twitter!!)  

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[backtothefanfiction]

WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW| Chapter One

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: After your mission starts going tits up and you find yourself being held at gun point, your groups big secret is about to come to light.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!! Guns, Violence, Hostage Situation, Shooting, Murder, Sexual References, Some Angst.  (This Chapter is purely set up but there will be plenty of Smut in future instalments, not to mention drama galore, especially where Frankie is involved.)

Word Count - 3429

A/N- Hi all, I hope you enjoy my little self indulgent piece I’ve been working on. This is a female reader insert so I do use she/her pronouns, I hope this doesn’t bother anyone or make them feel uncomfortable, I just always vision myself as my insert character and I just end up writing with my own pronouns. Although I have re-read this a couple times, I did write this and proof read in the early hours of the morning so there may still be mistakes, if you find any I’m sorry. Also I cannot wait for you all to see where I’m taking this and the drama that is gonna go down. Will Benny find out everything in the end? Let’s find out.

CHAPTER ONE | WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW

Your feet danced silently across the sun spot covered floor boards as you made your way down the upstairs hallway of the house. You stayed close to the walls, your gun held tightly to your vest, finger always close to the trigger. You sensed a figure move across the hall behind you. You looked back over your shoulder as the brim of a cap stuck out from the corner of a door frame. You and Frankie locked eyes and he gave you a silent nod to let you know he had your back. You took your next tentative step forward towards the last room at the end of the hall. Creeeek.

You froze, your foot half in the air as you waited to see if your target had noticed. You heard a slight click from behind you as Frankie adjusted his gun ready just in case. You slowly moved your foot, placing it down on the floorboard next to the one that just creaked, so you had a better stance. The room at the end of the hall remained silent. You looked back to Frankie and he gave you a reassuring nod once again.

“We're all clear down here and we found the money.” Pope's voice came through the coms. “Fish? Magpie? How's it going up there.” There was a noise on the stairs causing both yourself and Frankie's head's to whip around to see Will. Frankie held up a fist to him. Will gave a silent nod as he readjusted his hand on his gun.

Frankie's response was hushed. “Give us a sec.”

You took your last few steps down the hall to position yourself across from the slightly open door. Frankie swiftly moved down the hall, stopping with his back against the wall, the barrel of his gun, ghosting the door frame. He signalled his hand indicating for you to take focus on the left side of the room, he'd take the right. You gave a nod to show you understood taking a quick look down the hall to check Will had your six. When you looked back to Frankie he was taking a slow calming breath, focusing himself. He gave one final nod and you both stormed through the door.

Just like every other room you'd checked, it was clear. You both relaxed, calling it out as Will came into the doorway. “There's nothing up here Pope.” you said into your com.

“What do you mean there's nothing up there?” Santiago Garcia's voice was frustrated as it came through the com.

“What you don't trust me? There's nothing fucking up here.” You said again as Frankie and Will did a double check of the other rooms.

“I'm coming up there.” You rolled your eyes. You and Santi had both gone into similar lines of work post service and you couldn't be mad at him for not trusting your judgement, you would probably do the same had the roles been reversed.

“Jesus Fucking Chr-” you started to mutter to yourself but a sound behind you caught you off guard. Shit.

“Put down your gun.” came a voice behind you. Of course this house had a secret fucking room you missed. You made a loud example of dropping your gun on the floor, alerting your team mates to the threat in the room with you.

Frankie stormed back into the room first, gun aimed at the ready. You sneered as the barrel of a gun was jammed into your back and your wrist was grabbed, your arm being forced behind you. “Fish what's going-” Will's voice fell as he too came back into the room, Frankie holding a hand up to him in caution.

“How many of you are there?” the man behind you spoke, his accent thick.

“We've got two more guys downstairs.” Frankie's voice came back calm.

“Iron head what's going on?” Pope's voice came booming down the hallway. Will held a hand up to him.

“All of you in here where I can see you.” The man said. You grunted as he twisted your arm again, leading you backwards so he was in a better vantage spot in the room. Frankie never lowered his gun as he stepped around the room to maintain his shot at the man behind you.

Will and Santiago slowly stepped into the room, both their weapons aimed ready. Santiago, not wanting to risk reaching for his com instead yelled out. “HEY BENNY, COME UP HERE!”

Everyone was silent as the sound of heavy footsteps made their way upstairs and down the hall. “What's everyone doing up here-” his question was cut off as he quickly surveyed the situation in the room. He quickly berated himself for leaving his gun downstairs but calmly checked himself, spotting your gun on the floor and forming a plan in his head about how he'd acquire it.

“All of you put your weapons down.” The man's heavy accent cut through the silence. When none of the men before him moved he raised the gun in his hand to rest against the side of your head. “I said, put your weapons down or I'll shoot her.” None of the men moved.

“Boy's it's alright, you can put your guns down. He's not gonna shoot me.” You said, your voice too light hearted for this situation.

“Yes I will.” the man bit back pushing the gun harder against your head.

You calmly turned your head to look at him. “No you won't, and you know how I know that?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “Because you need me to get out of here. You know the moment you do any actual harm to me, these men won't hesitate making your body drop, right where you stand. You're goal here, is to get yourself out alive, so you need me alive. So in conclusion, no, you're not going to shoot me.” You roll your eyes turning your attention back to your boys. “Boy's it's fine. I'm fine, just drop your weapons.”

Benny gave a quick glance to his right, at his brothers. Both Santiago and Will reluctantly followed your instruction, making a show of calmly lowering their weapons and placing them on the floor. The only one of them who didn't move was Frankie. You locked eyes with him. You saw all his emotions and care for you in his eyes, his determination to keep you safe as he fought with every fibre of his being to not lower his weapon, to just shoot this guy right where he stood. You're eye's pleaded with him softly. “Fish, it's okay.” It took a moment, but he too followed suit, slowly lowering his weapon.

“What's gonna happen is we are going to slowly head for the door.” The man pointing the gun at you said calmly. “You're friends are gonna stay right where they are.”

“Okay.” you said back calmly. This wasn't your first hostage negotiation but then again, you'd never been the hostage before.

“Okay.” he reiterated as he pulled your arm and slowly edged you towards the door. You watched the boys closely. You could see in Santi's eyes he was desperate to say something. You kept your glance on him a moment longer and his mouth began to open, your voice came out first.

“Do you remember that time in Italy?” you addressed him calmly as your feet still moved backwards towards the door.

“Yeah...” Santiago said tentatively, the man behind you jostling your arm as he began to step into the doorway.

You felt the man lower the gun from your head to your back, pushing it against your left side, a caution to be quiet which you ignored. “With that guy at that club.” You continued, your eyes locked with Santiago trying to get him to understand. “And you tried to impress me when you shot him, but I just got mad...” You too were now stood in the doorway. You stopped. “well.” None of the men had ever seen you move that fast. You reached your arm to the gun poking at your side, taking it from the man's hand. Before he'd even realised you'd taken it your whole body swivelled around as you twisted the gun around in your hands, raising it and shooting him point blank in his forehead. His body hit the ground with a thud. Your eyes didn't leave the man as you fully took a moment to take him in as you lowered the weapon in your hands.

There was a giddy squeal and the sound of Benny bouncing around excitedly behind you. You turned around stepping forward to hand the gun off to Santiago, finishing the statement you were making before. “Consider us even.” you said, raising your eyebrows to him.

“Oh my god! Did you see that?” Benny continued to bounce around the room. Will and Frankie only just taking a sigh of relief as you moved back towards the body now lying in the doorway. Benny finally came to a stop. “Is anyone else slightly turned on right now?” his filter not stopping the question, quickly permeating the room with it. There was silence from the other three men as you bent down to rummage through the dead sicario’s pockets. The radio silence to Benny's question was deafening to you. You slowly sheepishly turned your head towards the other three men who were still yet to say anything. You're head turn hadn't been slow enough though and you caught the look that Santiago, Frankie and Will quickly shared, before looking at any opposing point of the room they could.

“Well I guess I know what you boys don't talk about when you're out with Benny.” your statement cut through the thick silence. You took a quick look at Benny just long enough to see his face fall. You stifled a small snigger as you turned back to the body in front of you.

“What?” Benny's voice rang out. “What is it you don't talk about when you're with me? What did I miss?” the youngest man searched his brother's faces for answers. They continued to remain silent.

You pulled yourself away from the body, blowing straight past Benny to Santiago. “Does Will know about Italy?” Santiago remains silent but a quick look over to Will and how he's looking at you tells you everything you need to know. “So he does know about Italy.” you say coyly, your gaze turning back to Santiago.

Benny is beginning to get antsy, moving about the room. “What happened in Italy?” Nobody answers Benny and you continue your playful interrogation.

“How much does he know?”

“All of it.” Santiago responds. You look to Fish then back at Santi.

“Even...?” You can see Will's eyes fixed uncomfortably to a spot on the floor out of the corner of your own. Frankie beside him started to relax, his own legs becoming fidgety as he began to rock on the balls of his feet, the conversation making him uncomfortable.

“All of it.” Santiago says again. You suddenly notice Frankie become tense once more. It takes a moment for your brain to process why, but then it's fitting it together. The creaky floorboard in the hallway. You reached out for the gun in Santiago's hand quickly whipping around just in time. BANG. Another body hits the floor in the doorway.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Benny practically squeals again. You turn your head back to Santiago, he has that look in his eyes. The same look he gave you that night in Italy. A warmth suddenly hits between your legs and you have to take a deep breath and centre yourself.

“I thought you said downstairs was all clear.” You say handing the gun over to him again.

“It was.” Santiago's voice was low as he tried to retake control of this situation, but the two of you both knew it was long gone. It had been gone the moment you mentioned Italy.

You took a step back, Benny still hopping about giddily. “Seriously did nobody tell him.” Your eyes roamed over to Frankie's. They locked for a fraction of a second before he purposely turned his gaze away from you. He still slightly resented you for the whole Italy incident. Your eyes finally fell on Will who was now silently looking at you, well aware you were the one fully in command from here on out. 'Wow' you silently mouthed.

“What the fuck am I missing out on?” Benny butted in again, his voice whining like a child.

“We'll tell you when your older.” his older brother finally said, not taking his eyes off you for a second.

---------

Your fingers were swollen red and sore as you carried yet another heavy bag of cash to the van. You quickly dropped it onto the large pile Frankie was loading into the back of the van parked outside the front of the house with a thud. You took a moment to regain your strength ready to go back for the last few bags, watching as the veins in Frankie's muscles strained as he lifted multiple bags at a time, swinging them into the van. You watched as he stopped a moment, realising you were still stood there, a hesitant look on his face, like he wanted to say something but didn't know if now was the right time to say it. You watched as the emotion inside him quickly built from whatever inner conflict he was having. He practically threw the next bag into the van.

You took a tentative step towards the pile of bags, picking one up and lifting it into the back of the van. “Don't do that again.” you heard the man beside you growl.

“Do what? All I did was put a bag in the van-” “Don't gamble with your life like that.” Frankie snapped at you.

“He wasn't going to shoot me.” you tried to keep your voice calm as you reached for another bag, but the slight irritation in how Frankie was treating you was clearly niggling at you.

“You didn't know that.” He said stopping everything he was doing to stare at you.

“Yes I did.” you snapped as you threw the bag in your hand, into the back of the van. You felt him grab your arm, pulling you round to face him. His hand remaining firmly around your wrist. You felt like your skin was burning under his touch.

“No. You took a gamble and began running your fucking mouth off, you were practically taunting him the whole fucking time-”

“He had the safety on.” You spat back at him, cutting off his rant. He looked at you half in shock, half in curiosity.

“What?”

“He had the safety on the whole time.” you said your voice softening trying to make him understand, but the look on his face was slow to change, almost like he still didn't believe you. You snatched your hand out of his grasp. “But thanks for caring.” You laced the statement with a slight venom, almost challenging him. He looked at you longingly then. So much of your relationship with one another going unsaid and sitting heavy between the two of you.

“You know I always fucking cared-” “No.” your voice was commanding.

“What?” he said slightly hurt and confused.

“Frankie, we're not doing this now.”

“Doing what?” Santiago's voice cut between the two of you as he made his way out of the house, a couple of the money bags in his hands.

“Nothing man, nothing.” Frankie said as he took a step back from you. He lifted his hat from his head, using the back of his hand to smooth the hair beneath it, attempting to look anywhere but at you as you went back to loading the bags into the van.

“Benny's just packing up the last two bags.” Will said as he came out to the van. He didn't add the bags in his hands to the pile, instead putting them straight into the back of the vehicle, pushing you out the way so he could get through.

You took a step back to survey the three men before you, as Will and Frankie began working together to haul the last of the bags into the van. “So you guys really telling me Benny knows nothing at all, and I'm not just talking about Italy.” The three men turned to look at you. This was the first time ever you'd been alone with the three of them together since all this started and you were dying for some answers.

“It never came up.” Santi sheepishly answered, shrugging it off.

“But the three of you have talked about this shit?” you questioned, quickly becoming bolder.

“Why, you been feeling your ears getting a little bit hot chica?” Santiago began teasing you.

“No.” you fired back a little too quickly shooting him a death look at the same time. You were surprised though when, instead of Santi coming back with another quip to continue teasing you, it was Will's voice that filled the silence.

“You know I'm beginning to think she get's off on the idea of us talking about her and debating over who did her better.” He said with a low chuckle. You shoot daggers at Will for the low blow but it only makes him smile.

“Well William, if you truly do know everything, then you know it's no competition and you already know who I think the best was.” you are quick to rebuttal, your voice taunting.

“The best at what?” Benny's voice questioned as he brought the last bags out to the van, throwing them in the back.

“Fucking me.” you say shooting him a wink and a cheeky grin. Your voice is so nonchalant when you say it, he knows you're saying it to taunt him. It sounds like such an exaggeration, like the farthest thing from the truth, a lie just to wind him up. He scoffs irritated as you raise your eyebrows at him and make your way towards the front of the van, away from his view. But what he doesn't know, that his brothers do, was that it was completely true. You had just taunted him with the truth and gotten away with it and damn were they impressed.

Santi practically chokes as he tries to hide his laughter, sputtering and coughing from how blatant you were. Will gave a small snicker before looking to his brother with sympathy, patting him on the shoulder. Frankie closed the doors to the back of the van, practically skipping around the side of the vehicle after you. You look back to him and he shoots you a look as if you say 'you're playing with fire' as he reaches out to open the door for you.

You give him a sickly sweet smile in return. He rolls his eyes at you as he leans against the door, waiting for you to hop into the van first and slide past the steering wheel, into the middle. You climb onto the seat but pause, looking directly at Frankie. He truly turns his head to look at you now, the serious look on your face when you address him. “You know it was always you right?” you asked him.

With everything that had happened between you, he genuinely hadn't known, but he could tell by your face you weren't talking just about the sex anymore. He wanted to push you further but the passenger door opened on the other side of the van as Santiago climbed in. When Frankie looked back to you, you had already turned away.

He took the drivers seat beside you, slamming the door shut a little bit too hard. He fumbled with the keys in the ignition. 'Why had you had to drop this on him now?' he thought to himself.

“Fish you okay man?” Santiago's voice rang out in the silence. Frankie's head snapped towards his best friend but his eyes somehow ended up landing on you. He took a moment to steady himself, his fingers going into autopilot as they once more placed the keys into the ignition, turning it over. The van roared to life.

The three of you watched as the Miller brothers took off in a separate car in front of you. “Alright man let's go.” Santi said slapping the dashboard and Frankie put his foot down on the accelerator, following the car in front back into the cover of the trees around them.

Let me know if you want to be added onto the tag list for this fic. I also won’t be adding names just from likes again like I did with the announcement post so if you want to be notified you have to put it in writing for me.

@icanbeyourjedi @theshiningharmony @darnitdraco @kesskirata @wyn-dixie @rosiefridayrogersunday @actual-spawn-of-satan @clydesducktape @asta-lily @honey-hi @heythere-mel @heidi-toevs @wigofokoye @choricenter @goodgriefitsawildworld @lostgirlheather @d0uwannkn0w @justdrawings101 @nicotinebirds @bisexualolympus @babyratt19 @cookiecat22​ @itspdameronthings

[kiss-inthekitchen]

breathe with me | loki laufeyson

summary: Loki helps you through your anxiety

wc: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of anxiety, it's generally pretty mild though

a/n: this is just self indulgent fluff i wrote to cope. reader is of unspecified gender (pretty sure i didn't specify anywhere but if u notice me mess up let me know!), idiots who don't know they like each other, loki being soft

-

It had been a shit week.

Truthfully, it had been a shit few months, but this week everything seemed to be coming down on you at once. Anxiety had been weighing heavy on your mind, following you everywhere you went, giving you nightmares nearly every night. You were relatively new to living in the Avengers compound and you’d been struggling to fit in with the established dynamic of the group, so you didn’t feel like you could confide in anyone. You’d just been trying and failing to soothe your anxiety on your own.

So today, when you woke to an empty Avengers compound, your feelings of being alone in the world physically manifesting in front of you, it was no wonder you couldn’t hold it together anymore.

You were pacing around the common room since you had too much anxious energy to sit still, too lost in thought to sense that someone had entered the room.

“Darling? Is everything alright?” Loki asked, making you jump.

“Oh! Loki, I didn’t realize you were home, I- I thought everyone had left.” Recovering from the initial shock of being interrupted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you at his presence.

You realized you still hadn’t answered his question. You weren’t really sure how to. “I’m fine. It- it’s just- stupid, you dont need to-”

He silenced you with a look you’d become all too familiar with. “If it’s bothering you, love, it’s not stupid.”

You could’ve almost cried hearing him say that. You’d always liked Loki, and you knew that- at least compared to the others in the compound- he liked you, too. He didn’t fit in with the others either, so it made sense that the two of you had instantly gravitated toward one another. Through all the difficulty you’d had in the compound, the good moments had almost exclusively been in his company.

He walked over to the couch and sat down, gesturing for you to follow. You hovered near the arm of the couch, unsure, as he waited for you to tell him what was wrong.

You were hesitant to tell him about your anxiety. Things were good with the two of you, you didn’t want to show him this side of your personality- the side that was difficult, irrational- and risk being rejected by him.

If you were honest with yourself, you liked him in a way that was more than friendly. Sometimes you thought he might feel the same, with all the sweet nicknames and the fact that he was touchier with you than anyone else. But maybe that’s just how Loki acted when he was comfortable with someone. It’s not like he had any close friendships with the other Avengers that you could compare it to.

You really did want his help, though. But you hated the idea of being a burden on the only person in the compound that you were actually friends with. “I can handle it myself, if you want. I don’t want you to feel like you need to help me.”

“You don’t need to handle it by yourself, dove,” he said in a tone that, while soft and comforting, left no room for argument.

Well, shit. If you didn’t feel like crying before, you definitely did now. You sat down next to him on the couch cushion and he took one of your hands in his, tracing circles into the back of it with his thumb.

“Okay,” you said, and he squeezed your hand a bit to encourage you. You spoke your next words quickly, keeping your gaze on your joined hands.

“I- I’ve just been feeling so anxious lately, I don’t feel like I really fit in here- with the others, and I know you and I are different but I was scared to tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react, and then I woke up this morning and the tower was so quiet and empty and I felt so alone-”

“Darling,” he breathed out as your voice broke. “I understand your fears, but of course you can tell me. I lived most of my life feeling alone, I completely understand.”

You just nodded in response, feeling somewhat foolish for getting so caught up in your thoughts. Of course Loki understood. He had a difficult side too.

“I don’t want you to question whether you can come to me, okay?”

“Okay,” you assured him, your lips quirking up into a small smile. You looked up at him to find that he was smiling back at you.

“That’s what I like to see,” he said as he reached out, gently touching your cheek before he let his hand fall back down.

You felt your face heat up under his gaze. For just a second his expression changed into one you couldn’t quite read, and then it was gone.

“Now, can you do something for me?” He asked, his voice maintaining that soothing tone you could never get enough of.

“Sure,” you replied, curious what he was going to ask you.

“I want you to take a deep breath for me. We’ll do it together, yeah?” He released your hand, and before you could even register your disappointment, he held both his arms out for you. You curled yourself into him without hesitation, resting your legs over his and leaning your head against his chest. He felt your deep inhale. “There you go, love. Breathe with me.”

With your body pressed against his, it was easy to fall into his steady rhythm. His presence beside you and the soothing track of his thumb against your skin calmed you down much quicker than you could’ve done alone.

“Thank you, Lo,” you said into his shirt.

You felt his soft smile against the top of your head. “Anytime, love. I mean that. I’ll be here, as long as you’ll have me.”

“You’ll be here a while, then,” you chuckled. He squeezed you tighter against him in response.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a beat before he spoke up again. “You should rest now, darling. I’m going to take us to your room, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled against his shirt as the room shifted around you, Loki transporting the two of you to your bed. You disentangled yourself from him as he lifted the comforter back for you. “Will you stay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured you, slipping under the covers beside you and pulling you back into his body. You felt safe in his embrace, a rare moment for you both. With his chest pressed solidly against your back and one arm snug around your waist, you found yourself drifting off within minutes.

You slept better than you had in weeks. When you woke later on, Loki was still beside you.

[emkay512]

Just For Tonight

What if it had been Liam’s idea to have house Beaumont sponsor Riley in his social season? And what was Liam’s night like after he dropped off Riley in the very first chapter?

A/N: I watch a lot of rom-coms and chick flicks and couldn’t stop thinking about Liam and came up with this 🙃 This exists in my OUAT universe, so I’m using those tags, I hope that’s ok and you enjoy!

Thank you at @sfb123 and @queenrileyrose for pre-reading and giving me that extra confident boost! I think I was marinating on this too long! Lol 😅

Warnings: Some language, but that’s about it.

Tags: @burnsoslow @bbrandy2002 @ao719 @kat-tia801 @sincerelyella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis @queenrileyrose @kingliam2019 @iaminlovewithtrr @amandablink @iluaaa @jared2612 @sfb123 @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam @secretaryunpaid @ladyangel70 @gkittylove99 @texaskitten30 @shanzay44 @ofpixelsandscribbles

Word count: 1,676

Liam’s head was swimming. He and Riley just piled into a cab to escort her back to her apartment after their midnight rendezvous with the Statue of Liberty. That kiss she gave him on the ferry had him dizzy, he was losing his inner fight to remember his duty bound responsibilities and wanted to embrace her again, but he also didn’t want to lead Riley on.

As if Riley was reading his mind, she broke the silence and asked, “hey, Liam?” Liam focused his gaze on her in reply, “what if just for tonight, we indulge in ourselves a little?” Liam lifted his brow in confusion.

“How do you mean?”

Riley was feeling quiet vulnerable with her idea, but in keeping with her own suggestion, she explained, “I have a feeling about you. That you’re used to putting your priorities and desires dead last in life. I’m even a little afraid that you may come to regret this night with me because you will convince yourself you had over indulged by allowing a little personal pleasure in your life. I’m saying, don’t do that. And I won’t either. I’m not sorry for opening up to a prince I know I’ll never see again. So… so how about you do the same?” Riley felt her cheeks blush and she looked up at him to see his eyes soften, knowing he was moved and would agree.

“Ok.” Liam smiled genuinely, she was completely right, and now thanks to her, he wouldn’t allow himself to feel any shame for enjoying this night. “Ok, Ms. Riley Brooks, I’ll do the same. Just for tonight, I will feel no shame for enjoying myself, for letting my heart call the shots for once.”

“Good.” Riley almost felt her eyes well up with tears from both the most sincere happiness she was feeling mixed with sadness of the night ending. Just then, the cab slowed to a stop right in front of her stoop. “Well, this is me. Good night, Liam. Thank you for the unforgettable evening.”

“Riley,” was all he could whisper before they both leaned in, closed their eyes, and surrendered into their goodnight kiss. Liam had relaxed completely, and it was Riley that deepened the kiss. She had parted her lips for him and he allowed himself to touch his tongue to hers, reveling in her sweet taste. He took one hand to cup her cheek and his other hand around her waist, both hands pressing her body as close to his as possible.

At the sound of the cabbie clearing his throat, they parted, both a little out of breathe. With smiles on both their faces, they said at the same time, “well, good night.”

They awkwardly laughed, and Riley touched her hand to his 5 o’clock shadow and said, “I think you are amazing, and thank you again for tonight.” She offered him the sweetest smile and then moved to exit the cab.

Liam replied as she was making her move out, “goodnight, Ms. Riley, and just so you know, I will never regret this night.” It was the right thing to say, as he saw nothing but elation on her face as she gently shut the car door and turned to walk into her apartment.

After giving the cabbie the name of his hotel, Liam leaned back in the backseat of the cab with nothing but stars in his eyes. He couldn’t believe the night he just had, and he was too far gone in his euphoria that he wouldn’t allow himself to think back to the reality that awaits him. Just for tonight. Just like they had said. He would allow himself to close out this night on his love sick high.

Upon his arrival back to the suite he was sharing with his friends, Maxwell was the only one still up. Liam could swear that his good, cheery, friend, Maxwell Beaumont, operated on constant energizer bunny batteries and actually didn’t sleep.

“Well, well, well… couldn’t quiet pull off the next-morning-walk-of-shame, my prince?” Maxwell knew Liam hated the formalities among his friends so he knew right away that Maxwell was in a full ball-busting mood. But Liam didn’t care. And to his dismay, Maxwell noticed. “Whoa. What the hell is that dopey look on your face!? You did get laid??” Maxwell was sincerely perplexed because he knew that a one night quickie was unlike Liam, but he could think of no other explanation.

Liam chuckled and shrugged, knowing he was unable to shake the grin off his face. No, he didn’t get laid. But he did get kissed. Twice. By a woman he knew he wouldn’t shake from his thoughts, for probably the rest of his life. Just for tonight. He continued the mantra in his mind. He’d let his mind wander to the idea of seeing her again. “Calm down, Max. She just showed me a very lovely evening. She pulled off a trip to the Statue of Liberty. Just for me.” Maxwell was not missing the stars in Liam’s eyes and couldn’t resist in fucking with him a little more.

“Huh, so your tryst involved another lady? Ya know, Lady Liberty? Kinky.” Liam rolled his eyes, that’s not even creative or funny, he thought to himself. “Wait, so how in the hell did you pull that off? I know you get shit done, but a last minute late night boat ride in a foreign country to impress a girl? How did you do it?”

“I didn’t. It was all the other way around. She called in a favor to impress me, and as you can see, I was quiet taken.”

“Well damn, sister’s got some moves! I mean, look at you, I’ve never seen you so smitten!” Maxwell was still muttering some mockeries at Liam, something about Liam being a smitten kitten. But it was something else he said that stuck out to Liam. Sister. Maxwell had call her a sister. After a second, a wild idea popped into Liam’s mind.

“That’s it! That’s it, Maxwell you genius!” Maxwell blinked up at Liam, very unsure what part of his rambles got Liam so excited. “House Beaumont still needs a sponsor for the social season, right?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s right.” Maxwell was clearly not putting two and two together.

“Catch up, Beaumont! Her! Riley! What do you think? We could catch up with her in the morning and ask her to join the season under your house. Well?”

Maxwell was grinning from ear to ear. He thought it was such a good idea that he was disappointed he didn’t think of it. “You’re on. You and I can find her in the morning before your early flight back and if she says yes, I’ll bring her back here to get the guys caught up and she’ll fly back with us.”

“Genius! Ah, I could kiss you right now Maxwell! I’m gonna try to catch some sleep before the morning.” Liam said while pumping his fist in excitement and he half jogged into a separate room to fall asleep.

The next morning, Liam and Maxwell caught sight of Riley walking up to her bar. Maxwell still had a curious amount of energy in him and next thing Liam knew, he was jogging ahead to Riley with his hand in the air to get her attention. “Hey! Hey, Riley!” Liam kept his pace as Maxwell rushed ahead.

Riley whipped around to see Maxwell charging at her. “Oh, hey. It’s you. One of Liam’s friends, Maxwell, right?”

“Yep! Good memory! Anyway I’m glad I caught you. I’m here because I want to formally invite you to Cordonia to participate in all the festivities for Liam. Normally you wouldn’t be allowed to join, but I want to sponsor you!” Maxwell could see the shock and confusion on her face as he continued to explain. “I’m from a noble house, but I don’t have any sisters so we don’t have anyone in contention to marry the prince. Instead we get to pick any girl to sponsor, and I pick you!”

“Wh-why me?”

“I’m not doing it just for you.” Just then Liam caught up and strode into the scene.

“Good morning, Ms. Riley Brooks.” Liam used his most husky and calm voice possible. He knew he was about to be asking a lot out of her.

Riley instantly picked up Liam’s voice as he walked up and greeted her, “Liam? What are you doing here?”

Liam approached and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips for a quick kiss. He met her eyes as he explained, “I’m here to do the same thing my good friend, Maxwell, is here doing. I want to convince you to come to Cordonia. Everything he said is true. You can participate as his sponsor.” Riley moved her eyes from Liam and looked just over his shoulder at Maxwell, she was trying to decide if he was someone she could trust and someone whose house she wanted to join. She saw a very promising and honest smile on his face, and she felt comfortable. She then looked back to Liam, who was still holding her hand.

“I… I don’t know.. that’s a big commitment..”

“Look,” Liam said quickly not wanting to lose his momentum. “I’ll level with you, Cordonia won’t be like New York, but there’s something about you. About us, that I trust. There’s something here Riley, why not give it a shot. Come on, I know you feel it too.”

She most certainly felt it too and she thought about last night and the opportunity that could be ahead of her, versus her current shitty bartending life in New York, and she came to her decision. “Ok,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, “I’m in.”

“Yes!” Maxwell shouted from behind them, “go pack your bags, this is going to be the adventure of a lifetime!”

Riley looked at Liam and said, “I guess we’re shooting for more than just for tonight, huh?”

Liam replied, “heh, yeah I guess you’re right.”

[bakafox]

Woke up this morning having Feels about my childhood adoration of Man of La Mancha, at least, the musical. I’ve never managed to sit down and thoroughly read the book.

But I was obsessed with playing that record and singing all the songs from maybe the ages of seven through eleven or twelve, it’s hard to say when I started, equally  hard to know when I stopped, beyond ‘pretty sure once my dad died or our record player broke’.

A guy who was good-hearted and harmlessly weird and yeah, embarrassing sometimes, but likeable, whose family was SO embarrassed they wanted someone To Do Something to stop him while claiming they were only thinking of him?

A loyal sidekick whose reason for loyalty was just “I LIKE HIM”? Because a person making him feel good to be around was worth being silly along with that person? A guy who wasn’t EMBARRASSED but found joy even though he knew, yeah, his buddy was weird! But weird was fun! It was cool! It was an escape!

A woman who did nothing wrong, but everyone was HORRIBLE to her to where she hated herself, and maybe felt she hated everyone else, but ached for kindness and the weird guy gave her that and saw her as beautiful and wonderful despite how others treated her?

Like, that shit resonated with me. Did I understand all the nuances and everything when I was 8 years old? Nah. But I understood enough of that so well. I wanted to be as certain as Don Quixote and love people as much as him. I wanted a Sancho Panza to just LIKE ME. I wanted Aldonza/Dulcinea to have the life and self image and love she deserved and to also get that shit myself, and for the men bullying her to have a roof collapse on them.

I wanted to throw the priest and sisters or wev, I forget their relationship to Quixote into a river and I remember ranting to my parents about their hypocrisy and how evil the priest was for indulging it and hurting Don Quixote. (My parents absolutely agreed with me.)

That was MY musical, growing up. (Well, that and JCS)

[kozumekenza]

on my mind :: five

:: suna rintarou x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.2k ::

After a drunken one-night stand with your ex, you thought you could get him out of your life for good. Unfortunately, the two of you can’t seem to keep away from each other. Why can’t you leave each other alone? And more importantly, why is he still on your mind?

tw: alcohol, profanity, mentions of sex

author’s note: this chapter is v self-indulgent + fluffy but i hard a hard time getting it to flow while covering everything, so i’m sorry if it some parts seem kinda confusing. as always, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy this chapter <3

After another week of deliberation, you were no closer to determining if another relationship with Suna would be worth a shot. You didn’t hear from him or speak to him at practice, even after you rejoined the team on the court later in the week. He kept his distance, seemingly wary of talking to you after you left him at his kitchen table Saturday morning. 

You weren’t quite sure what to make of it. Based on his reaction Saturday, you guessed he was probably pissed at you, and you didn’t blame him. He had specifically warned you about regrets on Friday night, and you completely blew him off, just to tell him you regretted everything the next day. It was a dick move on your part, and you understood that. There weren’t any excuses; it was simply your drunk versus sober self warring against each other. 

Nonetheless, you still felt awful. You kept your distance; you didn’t want to further anger Suna with your presence. During practice, you kept to the sidelines, performing your duties with a calculating eye and absolute precision. 

Still, by the end of the week, you were exhausted. Besides the intense contemplation you were performing in your head, work was also draining. Sakusa Kiyoomi sprained his wrist (apparently, it happened quite often), Yaku Morisuke nearly tore his ACL (a devastating injury for a libero), and on top of it all, Hinata Shoyo somehow managed to break two toes, his pinky finger, and got a concussion. Top it all off with the fact that Tobio Kageyama was always hovering over Hinata when he was injured, questioning your every move, and you had a recipe for disaster (or at least extreme exhaustion). By the time Friday’s afternoon practice was finished, you were ready to fall asleep while standing up.

You said your goodbyes to the team, approved the weekend’s schedule with Iwaizumi (it was your turn to work Sunday’s practice match), and took the train home. After unlocking your apartment, you debated whether or not you should go straight to bed without dinner or suck it up and make something quick and easy. In the end, your desire to not wake up starving at five in the morning won, and you went to change before starting dinner. You threw on some old running shorts and Suna’s stolen jersey, which had become your new favorite sleep shirt (who could blame you, it was comfortable as hell). 

However, a quick search through your cabinets and fridge showed that you had almost no food, whatsoever. Not a big deal, you could just run to the convenience store down the street. 

So you did, with no makeup, dressed in sleep clothes, hair in a messy bun. 

Grabbing a basket, you made your way around the small store, ignoring the stares you received from other customers (you chose to believe it was just because of your tangled hair, but you knew it was because you were wearing a Japanese National Team jersey). You picked up some eggs and noodles for ramen, along with some broth. You were in the frozen food aisle, considering the merits of cookies and cream versus matcha ice cream, when someone tentatively called your name.

You spun around, cursing yourself for not at least putting on a jacket, when you began to curse yourself even more for wearing the stupid jersey. 

You came face to face with Suna Rintarou, who was considering you with a pained expression on his face. 

“Hey, Suna,” you switched your basket from one hip to the other, “what are you doing here?”

He held up the package in his hand. Jelly fruit sticks. “Had a craving.”

You inclined your head. “Cool.”

“What about you?”

You looked down at the basket. “Needed stuff to make ramen.”

He nodded, then looked off to the side before looking back at you. “Um, y/n, who’s jersey is that?”

Panicking, you laughed. “Just an extra I found.”

“Really? It has my name on the back.”

Shit. “Oh, well, must be a coincidence, I guess.”

He cocked his head to the side. “I also lost mine a few weeks ago.”

“Oh wow, that’s awful, I’m sorry.” You turned, trying to make an escape.

“Y/n.”

You looked back at Suna. “Yeah?”

“That’s my jersey.”

You laughed again, dread really becoming apparent now. “What? No way.”

Suna just continued looking at you. “Your bra is at my apartment.”

You quickly shook your head. “No-”

“So is your torn skirt.”

“No, tha-”

“We slept together.”

“Yeah, but only-”

“Twice.”

“No, def-”

“And you knew.”

You were really starting to panic, hands waving around, like that would somehow convince him. “No, no, no.”

Suna looked you in the eye. “We need to talk.”

You sighed, accepting defeat. “Yeah, I guess we do.”

---

After awkwardly paying for your food and an even more awkward walk back to your apartment, you and Suna were finally in private.

“D’ya want anything to drink? Water, soda, juice? Wine, something a little stronger? Vodka?”

Suna just sighed, shrugging out of his jacket. “Water’s fine, thanks.”

You poured him a glass of water and yourself a glass of wine, but not before taking a few shots of vodka. You were going to need it to get through this. You approached with the glasses, setting one down in front of Suna before curling up on the other end of the couch. 

“Nice place you got.”

“Thanks.” You sipped from your glass, waiting for Suna to make the first move. When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak until you did, you spoke up. “I’m-”

“We-”

You laughed, setting down your glass. “You can go first.”

Suna took a deep breath. “We both have fucked up, in the past and now. I’ll admit it. The way I treated you in high school was shitty, and it’s taken me a long time to own up to it. I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you back then. And I don’t know if it’s you getting back at me, or purely coincidental, but I’m kinda hurt that you hid this from me. I mean, for fuck’s sake, y/n, I talked about it in front of you. And you just kept quiet!” You silently watched as Suna took a sip of water. “I guess my main question is why. Why didn’t you say anything to me? Were you just hoping that I would never find out?”

You assessed Suna, allowing yourself a moment to think. “I didn’t hide it from you to get back at you. I’ve long since forgiven you for all of the shit in high school, and it wasn’t just you. I was immature and insecure back then, so for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I think I didn’t say anything because I was scared. I mean, I woke up that morning in your apartment, with no memory of the night before, and I hadn’t seen you in eight years. I had no clue what happened or why I was there. I didn’t know why you were in Tokyo, and honestly, I thought you would’ve been disgusted. We hadn’t spoken to each other in a long, long time. I didn’t want our first meeting after all those years to be an awkward morning-after. And about the jersey,” you laughed a little to yourself, “that was pure coincidence. I had no clue what I had taken until I got home, and I had no idea how to return it.”

Suna nodded, seemingly thinking something over before speaking. “I forgive you. I’m not even that upset about everything, to be honest. I think it just kind of hurts that you kept it from me. And I’ll admit, I was really bothered when you just left last Saturday. I don’t know how much of what you said Friday night is true, and I was a little drunk too, but I meant everything. I didn’t want you to have any regrets, and I don’t regret it.” He chuckled to himself, “I mean obviously, I wish we had slept together under different circumstances, and I wish that you didn’t regret it either, because it clearly made you upset.”

“I think it just took me by surprise, that was all. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t get drunk and sleep with you again, and I did exactly that. I was upset at myself, and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.” You made eye contact with him, hoping that your eyes could convey the emotions that your words could not. “For what it’s worth, I meant everything as well. I did miss you, all those years we were apart, but I hope you understand why I had to leave back then. We were tearing each other apart, constantly. I had to do the hard thing and get out before there was nothing left.” Tears started to well up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. “I had to leave. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, because I loved you,” your voice broke, “no, because I still love you, so much. For eight years, I focused on bettering myself, and I tried every single day to forget about you, but you were always on my mind. And I was terrified when I saw you again, fuck, I’m still terrified. But you’re my best friend, you always have been, and I love you, Rin.” You couldn’t stop the tears that were flowing now, after bearing your heart. You let Suna pull you in, and cried into his chest as he stroked your hair and whispered calming words. When the tears finally stopped, you remained tucked into Suna, your head underneath his chin. 

“I never stopped thinking about you, or loving you.” Now Suna was the one who sounded close to tears. “You can ask ‘Tsumu. I always asked him for updates on you. I remember, when I got my National Team letter, the first thing I did was ask ‘Tsumu if you’d be a trainer here. I kept up with you, and I knew you had just completed your training with another team. So I knew you were gonna be here, and I thought, maybe, just maybe, this was my chance. Our chance to fix the whole ‘right person, wrong time’ thing we had. ‘Cause that’s what I’m convinced it was. We just didn’t know how to balance each other out yet or how to be in a real relationship yet. We were still kids, learning about ourselves and the world. When you left, I was determined to not make it the last time I ever saw you. I knew you had to leave, had to find your place in the world, without me. I never blamed you. You did the hard part by leaving. What you didn’t know, though,” Suna hugged you a little closer, “is that I was always there, right next to you, cheering you on.” Now the both of you were crying. “I want to fix things with you, make things right. If there’s anything I learned last Friday,” Suna gave a wet laugh, “it’s that we can still talk to each other, and we can do it better than we ever did. I want to be with you, again. I want there to be an us, again.”

You sat up a little, putting some space between the two of you. This, you weren’t so sure about. You looked to the side, trying to avoid Suna’s pleading eye contact. “Rin,” you looked back up at him, “you know I love you. You know I missed you so, so much. But I just need a little bit more time. And I’m sorry to even ask you-”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.” He held you close as you began crying again. “I understand, I do. I’ll wait, as long as you need me too, I’ll wait for you. Just promise me that you’ll let me know when you’re ready.”

You nodded against his chest. “I promise, Rintarou. Thank you.”

You stayed there, head on his chest, just listening to his heartbeat. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. It was nice to get everything off of your chest, to figure out where the both of you stood with each other. It was nice to know that you would have the time and space to sort your head out, to fully work out if a relationship with Suna was a good idea or not. There were still so many aspects of your high school relationship that you had pushed to the side years ago, and you needed to sort through it. You needed to separate that Suna from this Suna, the old you from the present you. You needed time to be in a better mental state, one where you could give him your all. 

But you knew, no matter how much time it took, Suna would be waiting for you. 

---

When Suna finally left your apartment, it was hours and a teary goodbye later. You promised to keep in touch, and he promised to give you time and space. 

You went to bed feeling significantly lighter, dreaming about a future where you could fall asleep on Suna’s chest every single night. 

taglist: @sunasexual @call-me-lulu​ @ntimacy​ @circleglasses​ @porcolie​ @keikotaro 

[ickle-ronniekins]

break me like a promise

desc: he wanted to tell you how he felt. he wanted to let himself love you. he wanted to do all of these things, but first he made a promise that nobody would get hurt. but when fred was busy looking out for your heart, who was looking out for his?

word count: 3.8k

pairing: WELL THERE ISN’T ANY PAIRING IS THERE???? because unrequited love sucks and i’m feeling real sad and wanted to make fred feel sad too (sry i’m mad at myself too it’s alright you can hate me)

warning(s): angst/sadness/pure heartbreak/i hate everything

A/N: i’d like to personally apologize to fred weasley/people who love fred weasley. might i suggest listening to the piano version of all too well by taylor swift whilst reading this. feel free to cry with me, thanks. PS: i do NOT give consent for my work to be reposted on any other platform.

Just how many times had he heard the words, “Best friends always fall for one another”?

He’d very much like to tell the people that had told him that to kindly piss off, thank you very much.

He’d been hurt many times before. Of course he had. Fred was used to it at this point, he reckoned his body had adapted easily to the constant blows to the shins or knees and things. As a brother, he was always getting ragged on and wrestled with by his other siblings. He’d ended up with black eyes, split lips, knees to the stomach more times than he could count on two hands. As an athlete, he’d taken countless bludgers to the body, either on the Quidditch pitch or in the comfort of his own backyard. George had been prone to getting hurt, too. Of course, Fred had always jumped at the chance to help George feel better, whenever he needed it. Fred loved being the older of the two. He always took his job as “big brother” very seriously, and it only got stronger once Ron and Ginny were born. He wanted to be somebody they could need.

But there was something different about this type of hurt. He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t make sense of it, and nobody could fix it, not even his own twin.

On the outside, Fred had always put forth an aura of confidence. Nothing could get him down, could it? He’d be dammed if he ever let anyone see him with nothing but a huge grin on his face, that usual mischievous glint in his eye. But on the inside, he was just like everyone else.

As a hoarse cry escaped him, he clamped his hand over his mouth, desperate to not let the sounds of his broken heart echo their way down into the common room, to where his friends were indulging in hot cups of butterbeer, cheering for Harry’s tumultuous win versus the others in the tournament, all the while unaware of Fred, unable to control his emotions and crumpling to the ground like a pit of scrap parchment thrown into the bin.

It was his own fault really. He shouldn’t have been so bloody stupid in the first place. He had this coming from the start. He felt a painful, unfamiliar burn in the back of his throat before his vision turned blurry yet again. He didn’t want to replay the sound of you saying I’m so sorry over and over in his head, like a broken record. He muffled some sort of expletive under his breath, and though he’d never admit it, all he yearned for was nothing more than a tight embrace from his brother.

He shouldn’t have let himself say yes.

He could have said no,

but he would’ve hated himself if he had.

“D’you reckon I’d be able to punch that smirk right off of his ugly little rat face?” you’d asked one day, brows threaded together in annoyance. The two of you were sitting in the middle of a Charms lesson, and you were glancing over toward a Ravenclaw who was busy charming his way through every single female student surrounding him with nothing but the batting of his eyelashes. 

You turned back toward Fred and your features twisted into a grin. “I mean, just look at him, would you? What an arrogant little git. Thinks he can just woo his way through a lesson. Ridiculous.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Fred asked you. Playfully, he elbowed you in the ribs, causing you to recoil a bit, and he continued, “wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that he’d been wooing you? Besides, Y/N, pretty sure I’d heard you ramble on about how he’s the best looking bloke in school,” he flipped his long hair dramatically in an attempt to make fun of you and earned himself a nice punch to the arm.

You frowned and folded your arms across your chest. Sneering a bit, you said, “Yeah, that is until he opened his mouth,” You huffed and narrowed your eyes, “He really is a git, you know.”

“So you’re telling me,” Fred started, “that if he came up to you right this moment and asked you to go to the Yule Ball, you’d reject him?”

You nodded and widened your eyes, as if it were obvious. “Well, of course I would!” Flitwick dismissed you all, and you and Fred and the other students filtered out into the corridors to head to the next lessons. Fred gently guided you through the massive sea of students, and you two found a semi-empty spot near the Great Hall. “Sure, he’s good looking and all, but I don’t quite fancy spending the evening with a bloke who’s going to chat my ear off about the origins of his last name and how his parents are basically royalty, and all that.”

“He does not do that.” Fred laughed.

“Swear to Merlin, he does, Fred.” you replied, folding your hand across your heart. Then your eyes brightened. “Besides, why would I want to go with him when I’m going with you?”

That wasn’t the first time Fred had ever felt his heart soar. He’d been mad for you for years, hadn’t he? Yet, each and every time it took him by surprise, because what the hell was that going on inside of his chest? He never wanted to admit to himself how he felt about you, but it got to the point where he couldn’t deny it anymore; not to himself, at least. But nevertheless, he painted a look of confidence across his face so you wouldn’t be able to tell what he was feeling on the inside. He smirked at you, and watched a bit of panic sweep itself across your features. Your eyes widened. “Shit. I mean, you will go with me, won’t you?”

“Oh, was that the plan? Glad to have been a part of it,” he chuckled, hoping his voice didn’t sound too wobbly. He then poked you in the hips and said, “Of course I will. As long as you promise to not hurt me.”

You peered at him with a confused expression and he laughed. “Relax, Y/N. I mean just don’t step on my bloody feet all night.”

You sucked in a deep breath and then rolled your eyes and slinked your arm with his. “Thank Merlin. You didn’t really think I’d go with anyone else, did you? Come on, Weasley. I expected more of you. Now let’s go -- I reckon we’re in for quite the adventure, aren’t we? Can’t wait to see all these Gryffindors fall flat on their feet when McGonagall begins dance training today!”

You tugged on his hand to lead him into the Great Hall, but he merely floated through the air like a leaf being pushed and gently guided by the wind.

-- -

He shouldn’t have let himself get swept away.

He could have let himself go with someone else,

but he still would’ve been thinking about you.

George and Ron had told him to make a move after the Yule Ball. “Just go for it, mate, what could possibly go wrong? It’s obvious how she feels, isn’t it?” Fred wished he knew then just how wrong it could possibly go.

Fred resisted, though. He didn’t want to ruin a good thing. You two had danced the entire night away, you in your pale pink dress and white trainers. You two had been the last on the floor, and only left merely because Professor McGonagall had tapped you both on the shoulders to let you know that the evening was winding down. The band had stopped playing, anyway. And Fred, keen on wanting to make this a night to remember, kept everything exactly as it was. He gave you a small embrace in the common room at the end of the night before heading up to your respective dormitories. He didn’t want to mess anything up, and so he ignored his brothers’ advice and kept his lips shut.

He then began to panic, just as he always did. He began to pretend as though his feelings were fleeting, if only to fool himself. These feelings for you, they weren’t real, right? The way he wanted to hold you close and dance with you forever, the way he felt his heart constrict at the way your lashes fluttered when you looked down nervously toward your feet when he’d complimented you, the way he wanted desperately to lean in and kiss you at the end of the night. They couldn’t be real, because you two were just friends. Perhaps, he reckoned, maybe it was the excitement of the ball. The decorations. The dresses. He’d decided late that evening, still swimming in his high from the Yule Ball, that it had been exactly that -- the ball. It wasn’t you making him go all romantic, it was merely the excitement of the evening, and the tournament, and everyone being paired off in dates and things. He didn’t really fancy you.

He was proved very, very wrong the next morning when he waltzed into the Great Hall and saw you sitting at the table sipping your tea, back in your everyday clothes, back to normal -- just friends, as it had always been. And yet when you turned toward him and smiled, the sunlight highlighting your features in a way that made his heart jump, he knew that he was in over his head, because of course he was! He was mad for you and always had been, no matter how many times he’d tried to convince himself otherwise.

“Freddie!”

He nervously walked over to the table, suddenly feeling ridiculously self conscious for the first time in his life, and you tugged on his arm so he’d sit himself down next to you.

“Was just telling George here how McGonagall had to basically pull us off of the dance floor last night, eh?” your eyes scrunched near the corners when you smiled so deeply. To George, you continued, “He’s quite the dancer, your brother.”

George sipped his coffee casually. “Oh yeah?” he raised an eyebrow up in surprise and smirked, but not for long, because Fred kicked him inconspicuously underneath the table and he groaned in pain.

This went unnoticed by you, Fred gathered, because you kept on talking without so much as a batted eyelash at the twins’ little rift. “Of course! Wildly talented, he is.” To Fred, you said, “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

Fred couldn’t help the immediate grin that spread across his face. “Yeah, we did.” His voice was soft as ever in his own ears, and everything around you both froze, until he heard George cough a bit on his piece of toast. Fred hated nothing more than being so vulnerable, so he attempted a joke, “Except for all the times you stepped on my feet. Blimey, woman, thought I wasn’t going to be able to walk at the end of the night.”

George started to laugh, and you kicked him under the table and swatted Fred with the sleeve of your sweater. “Hey! It’s real bloody hard to dance gracefully in trainers, alright? It’s too bad this doesn’t happen every year, or I’d be able to prove to you how good I actually am.”

“You mean to tell me you’d go with this git to the Yule Ball every single year if we had one?” George asked, throwing Fred a smirk.

“Why not?” you shrugged. “We make a good team. Why, you jealous, Georgie?” you giggled, reaching across the table and snatching his piece of toast and biting into it. The younger twin just glanced at you, unamused, all while Fred could hardly keep the loud pounding in his heart from growing.

You and George became fully immersed in conversation, but Fred was barely paying attention. He was too busy peering at you, indulging his feelings, because he’d have to be an idiot not too, right? He just keep watching you with a new type of admiration in his eyes, and he admitted to himself right then and there, when you glanced back at him mid-laugh as George made some stupid joke, that he was completely and utterly and irrevocably in love with you.

-- -

He shouldn’t have kissed you.

He could’ve just embraced you like normal,

but he would’ve been yearning to feel your lips on his anyway.

It was the one and only time he got to, and now of course he wished that he hadn’t, because all he could remember of it was the surprise of you and the salt from his own tears as they fell down his cheeks and onto his own lips as he rushed toward the Gryffindor tower.

“Oh, Freddie! You’ll never guess what I’ve just heard,” you’d called to him in a sing-song sort of voice down the corridors. You skipped toward him, bag slung over your shoulder as you made your way through students, only to come face to face with the ginger boy in front of the empty Transfiguration classroom you’d both end up in for lessons later.

“Well you going to keep me waiting, or what?” he asked, a bashful smile on his lips, and he couldn’t quite get over how adorable you looked with that cheeky grin on your face.

“Just had a little chat with Alicia,” you started. You grabbed his arm and shook him, “she needs someone to fill in for her in the upcoming match since Madam Pomfrey still won’t let her play, right? So take a gander, Freddie, at who she picked to replace her?!”

“If the answer isn’t you, then this is a terrible story.” he winked.

You cocked your head to the side and folded your arms across your chest. “Lucky it is me, then, yeah?”

For a moment, he thought you were joking until he noticed the evident sparkle in your eye that could only come from being told you’d be able to play in an upcoming Quidditch match. You didn’t even try and hide your excitement; a huge smile split your face and Fred picked you up in his arms and whirled you around, all while shouting how proud he was of you and how he couldn’t wait to take to the Qudditch pitch with you. “Bloody hell, you’re brilliant! No wonder I’m so mad for you.” You didn’t seem to notice his voice of words, because you just giggled like a little kid in his arms and were breathless when he set you down.

He shouldn’t have done it. He knew that. But with all of the excitement and adrenaline were surging between you both, he just had too. How could he not when you peered at him, eyes filled with wonder? How could he not, when he’d been hiding his feelings for so long? How could he not, when you were mere inches from him, and all he wanted to do was know the taste of you?

He shouldn’t have kissed you, but he did anyway. He placed you down gently and you began rambling on about how the entire Quidditch thing had unfolded a few moments before, and he was so filled with overwhelming love for you that he leant in and slowly pressed his lips to yours. At first he thought your shock was a good thing. Perhaps he’d taken you by surprise in the best way, and you’d melt into him and breathe that you’d been waiting for him to do that forever. You’d tell him that you’ve been crazy for him this entire time too, haven’t you? You’d smile and laugh like a little schoolgirl and tug him into a nearby empty classroom to make up for all the time you two had missed together.

But then you pulled back and pure panic took him over. He searched your nervous eyes and furrowed brows for some sort of answer, but all you seemed to be doing was collecting your thoughts. He watched as you tugged anxiously on the strap of your bag and your face flushed a deep, crimson red. He watched you for answers, but the more he searched, the more he felt like he was caught in a rip tide pulling him further and further from the shoreline.

He opened his trembling mouth to speak, but all that escaped him were nervous “um’s” and you kept on shaking your head. “Fred,” you said hoarsely, and he hated how terribly different and foreign his name sounded on your lips. “What.. what are you doing?”

“I --” he stammered, and he felt like a complete idiot for not being able to get the words out. Since when had Fred Weasley ever been tongue tied? Since when had he ever lost his confidence? Since when had he ever let anyone see him so open.. and bare.. and painfully, heartbreakingly vulnerable?

He couldn’t help but notice just how heavy you were breathing. From nerves, surely, because he was doing the exact same thing. In fact, as deep as he breathed in, he still felt as though he couldn’t fully catch his breath.

“I thought you, erm..” you started, and Fred could see the tears trying to push past your eyelashes, “Fred, we --”

He finally found his voice, because he stupidly blurted out, “I’m mad for you,” and he wished he hadn’t. Your face dropped and you peered at him with a longing he’d never seen before.

Your voice was painfully soft as you looked toward the ground. “You’re -- you’re my best friend, Fred.”

His questions must’ve been written across his face plain as day, because you grabbed his hand and began pleading. “I mean, the Yule Ball, we’d gone as mates, hadn’t we? We’re friends, Fred. We’ve always been friends.”

Bloody hell, how many times could you say the word friends? Felt quite like a dagger straight to his heart.

He wanted to ask, You’ve never felt the same way, have you?

And he knew you’d respond, I love you like a friend, Freddie.

“Fred,” you breathed, and squeezed his hand, but he couldn’t seem to say anything. “Fred, please, I-I’m so sorry,”

With every ounce of strength he had, he swallowed his tears and sadness and vulnerability and painted a smirk onto his face. It didn’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes though. “No, listen, don’t.. be sorry, Y/N -- I-I just.. read things wrong, I s’pose. I'm the one who should be sorry.”

By the look in your eye, he knew you didn’t believe him, and he didn’t really believe himself either. How could he possibly be alright when he felt as if he were being thrown from a cliff? You ignored everything he’d just said, and instead opted to try again. “Fred, you’re my best friend -- please, I’m so sorry, I can’t take it if you’re mad at me,”

He hated seeing you cry. He hated seeing you so upset. He cupped your face in his hands and forced out a laugh that could almost pass as real. “Y/N, stop. I’m not mad at you. How could I be mad at you? You’re my best mate! I just.. it’s fine. Let’s forget all about it, alright?” He hoped his voice sounded firm, because he wanted you both to do just that. Forget. Just then, the bell rang and students began pouring out of classrooms and filtering into the corridor. Fred let go of you and looked toward his feet before backing away and meeting your gaze again. “Have got to get to Dark Arts. I’ll see you later, yeah?” he grinned, though his heart was not in it.

Before you could say anything more, or before Fred fell to the ground in pure agony, he walked swiftly passed you in the complete opposite direction of Defense Against the Dark Arts and picked up speed, because he just needed to get to his dormitory. What the hell was this pain he felt in the back of his throat? He didn’t look back -- he couldn’t. He didn’t look back as his vision became blurry, and he didn’t look back to see you standing there in the place he’d left you, a hand clamped over your mouth and tears streaming down your face at the thought of breaking your best friend’s heart.

-- -

He shouldn’t have let himself fall for you.

He could’ve tried seeing someone else,

but he would’ve been fooling himself if he pretended to be in love with anyone but you.

There was no way he’d be able to face you now. He’d stealthily snuck through the crowd in the common room and had ignored the faint sounds of your voice calling his name. Nobody had noticed, really, for they were too busy celebrating Harry’s victorious second place win in the second task and eagerly discussing the third.

He wasn’t hiding it anymore. It was written plain as day on his face, he reckoned, his eyes wet with heartbreak and his cheeks flushed red from all of the crying he’d been doing. How could he have been so stupid? Of course you didn’t feel the same way. You’d said it yourself, hadn’t you? Friends. Always been friends. And that’s all you two would ever be.

Sometime later on, after he’d been lying in bed for upwards of an hour staring at the ceiling, the tears started again. And this time it was worse. This time, they were big, fat, heart-wrenching tears and hoarse cries he couldn’t stop. They were involuntary. Someone quietly made their way into the dormitory. Fred looked up through his blurry vision. It was George.

Being the elder of the two, Fred had always cared a little bit extra about George. How many times had he comforted the younger twin? When George had scraped his knee running around their yard, Fred had cleaned him up. When George had fallen off of his broom and broken his arm, after Molly had warned them not to fly that way, Fred had patched him up. When George had to wear his glasses to lessons one day during their first year and had been made fun of by some annoying, rude Ravenclaw, Fred held George when he cried in their dormitory. So now, when George peered at his older brother biting back tears, he merely bit down on his lip to fight back his own, and opened his arms.

Maybe it was the vulnerability of the moment. Maybe it was because George knew without Fred needing to even tell him. Maybe it was the way that George knew, deep down, just how broken Fred felt. Broken like a promise. Maybe it was a mixture of lots of things that made Fred collapse into his younger brother and not hold back his tears.

Maybe it was the way George had said, “I know, mate,” that made Fred hold onto him a little bit tighter and a little bit longer.

All Fred knew was that, in that moment, his brother was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

He shouldn’t have fallen in love with you.

He could’ve stopped it, if he’d tried hard enough,

but he would’ve just fallen even harder.

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @waschbiber @acciotwinz @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hufflxpuffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight @hannolannno @msmimimerton @oh-for-merlins-sake @pigwidgexn @sarcasticallywitty15 @breadqueen95 @mycupoffanfiction @pit-and-the-pen @phuvioqhile @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred | message me to be added or removed!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day! 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week. 

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week. 

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep. 

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things. 

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again. 

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies. 

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full. 

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning. 

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.” 

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh. 

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror. 

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway. 

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat. 

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over. 

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too. 

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation. 

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half. 

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice. 

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison. 

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon. 

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter. 

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers. 

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender. 

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets. 

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face. 

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list.  But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could. 

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need. 

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you. 

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly. 

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly. 

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek. 

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks. 

“Open the trunk please,” you ask. 

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner. 

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers. 

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him. 

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV. 

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly. 

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house. 

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap. 

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin. 

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on. 

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. “Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons. 

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up. 

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks. 

“Moon, maybe,” he counters. 

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it. 

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures. 

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in. 

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask. 

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content. 

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could. 

“What did you post?” you ask. 

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile. 

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too. 

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of  buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit. 

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say. 

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns. 

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe. 

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe. 

[pm-my-hubbies]

Who Are You Talking To | C.E

Summary: Reader is fed up with Chris not spending time with her on her week-long break.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Black!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning(s): None!

A/N: I accidentally shared this through my personal account! I apologize for any confusion if I tagged you the first time!

Chris was ecstatic when I informed him of the dates for my Fall Break.

He planned out everything we would do together. From planting a blanket in the middle of a park for a lovely picnic to strolling through farms for a pumpkin to carve and sit on our porch. He did all of that.

Yet he’s one strike away from me slapping the shit out of him. He’s been blowing me off every second and I’m due to return for work in two days. We hadn’t done any of what he promised we would accomplish together weeks ago. Instead, he handled work business downstairs for the first part of the day and followed that up with indulging in his own hobbies. I wasn’t a part of any of it.

To add on to it, his Zoom sessions weren’t successful and that prompted him to radiate negativity. Dinner time consisted of him giving me short answers or grunts and through it all, I remained optimistic. I figured being positive and not calling him out on his behavior right then would flip a switch in him to acknowledge how he was acting towards me but nothing happened.

My feet connected with the cold wooden flooring, goosebumps rising on the parts of my body that were exposed because of the tank top and pajama shorts I wore. The clock read 11:54 p.m. I’m praying Chris let Dodger out for the last time this evening.

The volume of the television in the living room increased the closer I dragged my feet to where I presumed he would be resting. Turning the corner, Dodger was the first one I spotted as he slept soundly on his stuffed animal right by the entrance to the room. Chris, on the other hand, watched CNN on blast as if he was an old man struggling to hear; his arms were folded across his chest while he laid on his side and blankly stared at the bright screen.

I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of my week spent at home. “Chris.” I called in a firm voice that was loud enough for Dodger to only blink his eyes open and instantly travel back to Dreamland.

My boyfriend only shifted his gaze to look at me. “Hm?”

“Did you let Dodge out one last time?”

“Mm-mm.”

Breathe Y/N, breathe. I let out a soft sigh as I bent down to gently shake the canine awake. “Dodger, honey. Let’s go outside.” I knew from Chris’ response he wouldn’t be letting our dog out anytime soon. The man would probably drag himself down the hall to bed as the sun rose for a new day.

Dodger simply obeyed my soft command by standing and putting on a show of dramatically stretching. As we made our way towards the back door right behind my miserable boyfriend, I made sure to cut my brown eyes at his lounging figure and hoped he could feel my glare.

Once again, my skin tingled as the cool night air caressed my legs and arms. To keep myself warm, I folded my limbs across my chest, rocking on the balls of my feet. My eyes managed to follow Dodger’s sniffing silhouette in the darkness but as soon as he began the squat for a number two, I looked away.

By now, Chris had shut off the loud tv. Finally.

“I thought you said we would be hanging out for my Fall Break?” I questioned with my back facing him as I kept my eyes on the dog.

“What?”

“I thought you wanted to hang out with me for my break. Week-long, might I add.”

“We are.”

“No we’re not, Chris. And you know it.” I sighed as I moved to slide the door closed but ceased my movement to leave an opening for Dodger in case he finished early. With my hands on my hips, I rotated around to stare down Chris. “You’ve spent every single day downstairs taking care of business with A Starting Point and work, which I have no problem with. It’s what you do afterwards that bothers me. Barely talking to me or not at all and then you sit down here to do whatever. I was trying to be positive and give you your space but now—”

“But now your little feelings are hurt, right?” he snapped. “You’re hurt because I can’t devote 100% of my attention to you on your little break? News flash: everything isn’t about you, Y/N. So, stop your whining and actually think about what I’m going through.”

This would’ve shattered a younger version of myself. But after years of reflection, I realized I was always given the opportunity to fight back instead of wallowing in my tears.

First, I glanced to my left. Then to my right. No sign of life. I grimaced at my boyfriend. “You must not be talking to me.” I indicated with a point towards my chest. “You must be talking to this goddamn wall.” I sassed, jabbing my thumb to the wall behind me.

Suddenly, for the first time in the year Chris and I have been together, his eyes were size of saucers as it dawned on him what he’d done. And how I responded.

Tonight, was his first time taking his anger out on me. Yes, we’ve had our arguments, but those moments were different. This happened to be the time where the world was against Chris and rather than rely on me to comfort him (as I usually would), he was victimizing himself. He probably expected my body to rack with sobs at the harshness of his words, but I was through with that shit tonight.

“Since you wanna pull a Karen on me, your ass can sleep on the couch tonight.” I punished him. In that moment, I felt the softness brushing against my legs. Dodger was finally in. I pulled the door closed all the way this time and locked it. “Come on Dodger, your dad is being an asshat. You can sleep with me.”

Chris was frozen in his spot as the both of us moved past him. I made sure to give him a little bump on the way with my shoulder.

While waiting for Dodger to grasp his animal in his mouth, I observed him throw Chris a quick glance as if telling him that he fucked up. Funnily enough, our dog was the first to exit the scene and hold his head high as he trekked to the bedroom.

“I’m locking that fucking door tonight. Don’t even try it. You made your bed, now lay in it.” I dictated.

~*~

Surprisingly, I slept like a baby. Maybe it’s because I finally said something to Chris about his behavior lately. The previous nights, he would slumber away while I laid awake wondering if we would even spend time together before I headed back to work. Calling him out felt right.

I took care of my morning routine before unlocking the bedroom door and calling for Dodger to wake up. What I didn’t expect on the other side was the tray we roll out for sick days to be standing in front of the door.

Dodger was planning on being difficult as he hadn’t moved from his spot. This gave me ample time to study the tray with a covered meal placed on top and a horizontally folded card with my name scribbled on it.

“You were right last night. I have been distant throughout your break and I’m sorry for ruining the plans I promised. It’s a short amount of time left with you but we’re going to get started early. Eat the breakfast I made for you and then freshen up by putting on your favorite dress. Meet me at the car by 11.”

I chuckled at the message but decided to follow his set of instructions, nonetheless.

~*~

As promised, Chris drove us to the pumpkin patch further away from where we lived for more privacy and intimate time together. We spent the whole ride discussing last night’s events and catching up on the conversations we were meant to have throughout my week in our house. When he parked the car, he suggested we snap as many couple selfies but made sure to emphasize the idea of him taking pictures of me.

“They’re for my phone.” He lied through his teeth as I raised a brow at his idea.

The truth: Chris yearned to share pictures of me on his Instagram. At least half of his feed consisted of me, Dodger, or nature and rarely ever himself. I worried he would lose followers for never updating them on how he was doing but he dismissed my worries with a kiss to my forehead and a, “It’ll be fine, who cares?”

For a while, we explored the farm with our hands linked and eyes moving about at the pumpkins of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t until we’d reach the halfway point did I realize we didn’t have an exact clue as to which type of pumpkin we were searching for.

“I was thinking one of those big, tall pumpkins.” Chris answered after I asked him what our goal was.

“The ones that look like an orange squash?”

“Yeah.”

“Why…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve always wanted one.” He shrugged. His face held a gentle look of content.

“Well, if a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what my big baby wants, then a squash-lookin’ pumpkin is what he shall get.”

Chris released my hand to wrap it around my waist and pull me closer to him. I felt my cheeks heat up as he placed a kiss to the crown of my head. After all this time together, he still managed to have me acting like a schoolgirl that somehow caught the attention of her longtime crush.

“Thank you baby.” He answered. “I know I already said this twice; through the note and in the car. But, I’m truly sorry for how I acted last night and the days before that. I was stupid in bottling everything up and not confiding in you like I normally do. Doesn’t justify any of what I said last night but I figured you had a lot on your plate and didn’t want to bother you with my own.”

I paused my walking to glance up at him with what I hoped was love in my eyes. “Chris, you could never bother me. As a couple, we talk to each other. Even if we’ve got problems of our own at the same time? I want you to come to me and I come to you so we can figure things out.” I stood on my toes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw due to his towering figure. “I love you and accept your apology.

“I love you too.”

“You better. Because my ass wouldn’t be helping you find that ugly pumpkin to make you happy.”

“Hey!” he pouted before I shut him up with a kiss.

Taglist: @chaneajoyyy​ @daddyslittlecaptain​ @tantricevans​ @liquorlaughslove​ @nina-skyee​ @pinkgirlinablueworld​ @norababora @bakarilennox​ @rubyy98​