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mushyblushyredhead · 1 year

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Cure For a Bad Day—MCU

No thots. Just a silly fluffy Irondad thought I had to turn into a story. :3 If you don’t like, don’t read. But if you’re here for Irondad fluff or just fluffy Marvel tickles, then come on in! OvO

Word Count: 5,000

Summary: After a rough week of school mishaps, Peter starts to doubt his future at being a good student and even being Spider-Man. It’s up to Tony Stark to remind Peter he’s still worth it, and bring back his mentor’s favorite smile. (This is a tickle fic duh, purely platonic)

Lee! Peter

Ler! Tony

If there was one thing Peter Parker was good at, was multitasking. How many other teens could juggle the responsibilities of high school while fighting crime almost every night in the not-so-friendly-neighborhood, and still manage to finish their homework on time for the next day?

Somehow he was able to do both.

But like any other student, he had his challenges. Like today, for example. Peter was in the middle of trying to finish a lab report essay for chemistry class. He was pretty stressed out, as he hadn’t had so much time to work on it for the past three weeks stopping midnight crimes and shenanigans almost four nights a week.

Now, here he was, hunched over at his desk, typing away at his laptop attempting to finish his lab report that was due tomorrow. He was mid-paragraph, stuck on page three out of the required five.

Normally, Peter would rack his science loving brain and throw something together quick, but tonight was different. He was having trouble figuring out more words and what to say in the report.

His eyes were starting to hurt from staring at his computer screen so long. His spine ached from being hunched over like a shrimp in his chair for hours. And his stomach growled; he had skipped dinner and was insistent with himself that he could have time to eat after he got his report done.

He looked at his bedside clock. 10:37pm. Oh come on! I’ll have to go to bed soon and I’m not even close to being done.

Peter sighed. Sometimes, his full time job being Spider-Man could really put a dent into his student life.

There was a knock at his door. “Peter? You alright?” the soft voice of his Aunt asked.

“I’m okay, Aunt May,” Peter stifled a yawn. “Just finishing up homework.”

“You said you were finishing up two hours ago.”

“Well this time, I mean it. I am almost done.”

“Alright if I come in?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

The sight of her tired, stressed, hunched over nephew saddened May. “Oh, Peter, you’ve been at that science report of yours all afternoon. Why not call it a night and get some rest?”

“I can’t,” Peter’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. The blinking curser that sat there unmoving for hours seemed to mock him. “I have to finish this tonight. This thing is worth a lot of my grade this semester.”

“Hmm, okay how about this?” May offered. “I’ll let you knock off school tomorrow, and send a note to your teachers that you’re out sick. It’ll give you an extra day to finish your report.” Her lips ruled into a soft grin. “Maybe after that, you and I can head off to the mall and buy you some more of those Squishables things you secretly like.”

Normally, Peter would laugh and jokingly say what a bad influence she was letting him cut school like that. But tonight, he didn’t even crack a smile. “No thanks. I’ll get this done before I go to sleep. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Aunt May saw that tonight would be one of those nights where Peter wouldn’t budge out of his zombie induced state. So she decided to let him be. “Alright then,” she sighed. “Just please don’t stay up past midnight. I don’t want to get another phone call saying you slept through class and other kids decided to draw on your face.”

“Yeah, will do.”

And with that, she shut the door.

Peter rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “C’mon…c’mon…gotta finish. Ugh! Why can’t I finish?” The teen was just about to give up and call it quits when the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood out on end. His Spidey tingle was going off!

Despite feeling achy and sluggish, he quickly stood up and tore off his clothes, slipping into his Spider-Man costume. He pulled his mask over his face and was about to jump out the window when he stopped himself.

Aunt May might come back to check if I really did go to sleep. Dang it! Ok uhh…oh wait! That’ll work!

Peter grabbed some day old clothes off the floor and shoved them under his blanket, pushing them into a sort of Peter-shaped lump. Hopefully, if his aunt came to check on him she wouldn’t look too closely.

Grabbing his phone, he hopped off the windowsill and swung out into the night.

By the time Peter managed to sneak back into his room through the window, he was exhausted. He felt like he was about to pass out as soon as he stepped into his bedroom.

He flopped onto his bed, lifting his Spidey mask off his sweaty face. He didn’t have the energy to take off his costume just yet. He was so tired.

He had stopped a home break-in coordinated by three criminals. Normally, a crime like a break-in was child’s play to Peter. But after spending the whole week fighting off crime and running on four hours of sleep, and topped with the stress of his recent assignment, Spider-Man suddenly didn’t have the energy to do a lot of fighting tonight.

His web-shooting was uncoordinated, one punch nearly knocked him out, and he appeared to be wobbly when he landed.

Even the criminals seemed to noticed how he wasn’t putting much of a fight, and taunted him while having their weapons pointed at the sleepy hero.

Peter barely managed to stop those three criminals, and earned himself a bruise on his jaw and knee. So by the time the boy made it home, the clock read 1:55am.

Peter wanted to scream in frustration. Well there goes another sleepless night, he thought as he quietly stripped himself out of his Spidey suit and grabbed a T-shirt from his floor pile.

He cringed as his brain calculated the few hours of sleep he would be getting again.

The next day at school turned out to be so much worse. First, Peter was late to his first class due to him sleeping through his many alarms he set for that morning. Next, he ended up forgetting his lunch—and even emergency lunch money—from rushing to get ready earlier. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to put him in a bad mood, he completely forgot about his lab report.

His stomach churned as he heard the teacher announce for everyone to hand in their reports to the front.

“Peter?” The voice of his best friend made him whip around.

“What is it, Ned?”

“What’s up with you?” Ned asked in a hushed whisper. “You look like you haven’t slept in a month, and you’re acting way jittery than normal.” Ned’s eyes widened. “Is it the spider sense?! Is there danger somewhere right now? Do you need me to come up with an excuse so you can get out of here?”

Peter could barely register his friend’s overlapping questions. “No, Ned, I don’t need anything. And it’s not that. I just…” he sighed, burying his face into his sweater covered arms. “Trouble in the neighborhood late at night, and I completely forgot to finish my lab report.”

“What?!” Ned whisper-shouted. “Y’know normally I’d scold you like your aunt does, but you look like you’ve been through enough already.” He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Need me to make up some excuse? Save your skin at least a little?”

Peter shook his head miserably. “No point. I’m screwed enough as is here. Total failure.”

“Are you su—“

Their conversation was interrupted by the teacher snapping at them. “Parker? Your report, please.”

Uneasiness filled Peter’s stomach again. It felt borderline nauseous. He slowly walked up to the front desk. “I uh…don’t really have it physically with me right now.” He pointed towards his lab table. “I-It’s on my laptop.”

“Trouble printing it out?” The teacher asked.

“Something like that.” Peter could feel his cheeks growing warm.

The teacher sighed with a head shake. “Well then if you email it to me in the next three minutes, I’ll still give you credit. But next time, Peter, make sure you are able to find a reliable printing source ahead of time when you’re printing your reports. Don’t just try to print them last minute, that’s when these incidents happen.”

“Yes, of course.” Peter swallowed dryly as he shuffled back to his table. His fingers trembled as he opened his laptop, the unfinished pages of his lab report staring back at him. It felt like a punch to the gut. Well…something is better than nothing, right?

After school, the poor exhausted teen wanted nothing more than to go home, face plant onto his bed, and hope his mattress would swallow him up.

He was surprised to see a text message from Happy on his phone screen. Meet at the Avenger’s facility right after school. Your ride is waiting for you out front. New missions are heading your way. :) -Happy

New mission? That perked Peter up a little. At least he could forget about school for the weekend. Sulking in his room would have to wait. Right now, he was curious as to what sort of new mission awaited him at the Avengers’ headquarters!

The car trip didn’t take so much time. It did, however, leave the boy to replay the events that had just happened prior. He slumped in his seat. Suddenly, a new mission with the Avengers didn’t seem to excite him anymore.

Why can’t I just be more responsible? Peter bitterly asked himself. The other Avengers are able to juggle their normal lives and jobs and still manage to fight bad guys all without breaking a sweat. Heck, even Mr. Stark can do it. So why can’t I? *sigh* Am I really that bad of a student? What’s my future going to look like if I can’t even make it through high school?

Ugh! Why is your entire self worth and future determined by one stupid grade?!

Upon arrival, Peter didn’t seem as starry-eyed or ecstatic anymore. At least, that was the noticeable vibe Tony Stark noticed with his young mentee. He, in fact, looked in bad shape. Dark rings circled under his eyes, he looked disheveled like he had been sleeping under a bridge the whole week, and he seemed very anxious. Not the typical anxious-excitement Peter normally projected whenever he heard any mention of a potential new mission.

Tony wrapped an arm around the silently depressed teen. “So how goes it, kid? Survived another week of school?”

Peter scoffed. “Just barely.”

“I hear ya. But hey, cheer up. It looks like a certain web-slinging hero will be tagging along on more serious world-saving missions with the rest of us. Now how’s that upgrade for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?”

The boy merely shrugged. “I guess it could be good for my rep. So long as I don’t screw anything up again.”

“Hey, look. You just made a couple mistakes, underoos. It happens to all of us when we’re starting out as heroes. But this a fresh start; a chance to really show the others and the world that your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man protects more than just the neighborhood and supermarkets. He protects the world, too.” He gave Peter’s shoulder a shake.

“Okay,” Peter said with a small sigh. Oh how he wished he could get back to sulking in his room right about now.

Tony started to grow more worried about his mentee that afternoon. He assumed the kid had a bad day at school or was simply tired after a long week, but this seemed much worse.

Peter didn’t go on mini gush-rants about random things. He didn’t spit out any science jokes or puns. He didn’t even quote any old movies. Peter Parker always quoted his vintage iconic quips and lines. It was like his second vocabulary—first vocabulary being talking in only Star Wars lines.

Something was really wrong. And Stark was not going to wait around any longer to find out.

When Tony finally found Peter, he was sitting upside down from the corner of the ceiling, the hood of his sweater almost covering his face, earbuds in and mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Peter?”

Said teen took his earbuds out. His gaze softened when he met eyes with his mentor. “Oh, hey Mr. Stark. What brings you here?”

“That’s just what I want to ask you, kid. What are you doing up there by yourself?”

Peter shrugged. “Bored.”

“Bored?! In the freakin’ Avengers’ facility?”

“Well, sorry. Guess I’m just a little too tired today.”

He’s trying to avoid my question, Tony thought. “A better question would be, why have you been moping around since you got here? Happy even said that you were so quiet in the car ride here. No offense, kid, but you’re never the quiet type. Especially around Happy. So what gives?”

The boy averted his game. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just tired like I said. Y’know, keeping the neighborhood safe almost every night really drains your energy.”

“Cut the charades, kid,” Tony said firmly. “I wanna know what’s up with you. I’ve known you long enough to know that even with your nighttime gig as Spider-Man, you somehow always have enough energy to set Happy’s blood pressure spiraling, and annoy the rest of the Avengers with your weird vine refreshes and those picture things you call memes.”

Peter averted his gaze. How could he tell his mentor and biggest idol all the crappy events that took place that week? It wasn’t like it was a serious topic. It was just his own failure to be responsible.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.”

“Hmm…let me guess. Trouble at school?”

Peter looked up.” Maybe?”

“Alright, give me names here. A description of the punk. Who’s organs do I have to obliterate?”

“What? No, no, no, it’s not like that, Mr. Stark,” Peter quickly objected. “It’s just…rough days at school is all. And my student life.”

“I see. Want to come down from there and talk about it? I’ll have Happy make us some hot chocolate.”

“Alright.”

The warm hot chocolate was very comforting. After the long harsh week of events, a hot comforting drink was just what Peter needed. And it helped ease the hesitance he had earlier so he was able to come clean about what had happened.

“Wow,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence. “It sounds like the week really treated you terribly.”

“Tell me about it.” Peter fixed his gaze on his cup.

“Hey, listen, kid. You just had a bad week. Things will get better. You gotta believe that.”

The teen hero frowned. “How do you know I won’t keep failing? I’ve been screwing up nonstop this entire week. And even when I try to do better, everything always turns out worse. It’s like the universe hates me because I’m Spider-Man.”

Before Tony could respond, Peter kept talking. “And its so dumb, too. This whole situation. I’m sitting here whining about something that could’ve been avoidable if I had been a more responsible student. There’s no one to blame but me. And look at you, Mr. Stark. If you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t be a failing student just because you’re Ironman. I just want to do better, but I don’t feel like I can. And I know the school system doesn’t believe I can either.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Tony protested. “You’re a brilliant kid, Peter. Yes, you’re going to hit roadblocks along the way with your full time gig as Spider-Man and as a full time student, but you’re going to be fine. You just need a little encouragement. When you’re out there saving the neighborhood and face-to-face with an enemy that makes you feel like it’s hopeless, I’ve noticed that you never back down. No matter how difficult it is. This right here isn’t any different.

And if the crappy school system that’s been putting too much pressure on their students and treating them like garbage doesn’t believe in you, I do. I believe you can do it, Peter. You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

Peter almost wanted to tear up at the words his mentor was telling him. Damn, he really was good at this inspirational uplifting speech thing. Maybe even better than Captain America.

He couldn’t stop the tears, though. He had been feeling so emotional this entire week and after hearing Tony freakin’ Stark rant about how he was worth it despite everything he was feeling, Peter really needed to let some tears out.

Seeing the boy’s eyes fill with tears made Tony panic. Had he made the kid feel worse with his words? “Oh god, are you alright? Did i go too far with that?”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. “No, no, you’re good.” He sniffed, and wiped his tears with his sweater sleeve. “Sorry I got emotional back there. Your uplifting speech just got me teary-eyed. Thanks, Mr. Stark. I guess I really needed to hear that.”

Tony gave the teen’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Anytime, kiddo. Glad I could help. Now, I do want to help out with your school problem a little so you’re not feeling traumatized Monday morning.”

The boy tilted his head like a curious puppy. “Huh? What do you mean help out?”

“Well I sort of did a little research on what your next assignments for the week are going to be on for your classes. And I took the liberty to have FRIDAY complete next week’s assignments so you’ll have the entire week off to not worry about your homework.”

“You…wait, are you saying that you had FRIDAY hack into my teachers’ lesson plans and did all my homework for me?!”

Tony nodded, stirring his half drunk mug with a spoon. “Yup. Your homework’s done with all the right answers so it’ll guarantee to bring your grades back up to an A+.” He paused. “Well, an A- to make it seem like you did it.”

Peter didn’t know if he should feel grateful or disbelief. “I-I…thank you? I guess?”

Tony smirked. “What, that’s it? I do you a favor here so you can have the week off. You can have more time to focus on your web-slinging career, or use the extra time to take a nap in home room, or stare at girls more between classes.”

Peter blushed at that last comment. “Okay, fine. Thank you, Mr. Stark. I really appreciate it.” For the first time that week, Peter smiled. A genuine warm smile. Then his face melted to concern. “Wait…do you think that it’s cheating?”

“Uhh….nah,” Tony assured him with a wave of his hand. “Hey, as long as it gets you the grades you deserve. Besides, you aren’t even going to use 90% of the crap they teach you in school. You’re gonna forget it immediately anyways.”

Peter giggled, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh my god, Mr. Stark. You’re just as a bad influence as May.”

“Good! Maybe you can learn something here about all the shortcuts and loopholes to high school.”

“There are noho loopholes or shortcuhuhuts to high school!”

“Hell yeah there are! How do you think I got to where I am today?” Tony gestured to himself. “You think all of this happened by being a full time student? No way. High school did nothing to help me be who I am today. All it did was give me anxiety, student debt, and unrealistic expectations on what I needed to thrive in the real world. Oh yeah, high school teaches you nothing on how to adult or pay your bills. But hey, at least they teach you that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, right?”

Peter could not stop his giggles anymore. His giggles turned to laughter, and even while trying to muffle them through his sleeves, Tony could see the corner of his smile and the blush that dusted his cheeks.

It was always so easy to make the kid laugh, and Tony always liked to take advantage of it every time.

“Y-You’re terrihihible, Mr. Stark!” Peter said through his bright laughter. “A bahahad influence! Y-You’re even worse thahahn Loki!”

“Excuuuuse me?!” Tony pretended to be offended. He sat up, scraping the chair back, which made Peter’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Wait, no!” Peter surprised Tony by flipping onto the ceiling. “Don’t—Don’t tickle me, Mr. Stark!” Peter had had enough recent experience knowing what that look meant every time Tony got up from his seat. Having his own mentor know of his one dreaded weakness—the fact that he was insanely ticklish—and using that to mess with him anytime he got depressed or a little too snarky always flustered him to bits.

Tony grinned up at the spider teen on the ceiling. “Huh? Tickle you? Now why on earth would I do that? Oh right, because your ticklishness got dialed up to eleven from the spider bite. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Peter’s blush darkened. “S-Stop saying that so casually! I now what you’re up to!”

“Hey, I’m not up to anything. And honestly, I wasn’t going to tickle you.” A sinister smirk spread across his mentor’s face. “But since that was the first thought that crossed your mind…”

Peter’s tummy did fluttery flip flops. “Oh c’mon!! Mr. Stark nohoho! Dohohon’t you dare!”

“Too late. FRIDAY, a little help?”

“Yep. On it.”

The poor flustered teen squealed in alarm as one of Tony’s Ironman suits came flying over to him, trying to pry him off the ceiling. It was surprisingly easy, as Peter was already too giggly and flustered to concentrate on his sticking to the ceiling.

With Peter off the ceiling, he was dumped ungracefully onto the floor in front of Tony where the Iron suit immediately grabbed and pinned the kid’s wrists above his head.

“What the—FRIDAY you traitohohor!” Peter squawked. He pulled on his wrists, internally pouting that his spider strength wasn’t working in that moment.

“Hey now, don’t you insult FRIDAY,” Tony playfully scolded with a poke to the boy’s stomach. Peter squeaked at the touch. “We’re just here to help you out. I know how rough it’s been with school lately, and I don’t want to lose my underoos just because of that. You’ve been real upset ever since you got here and I know you’ve been upset all week. So no more of that now. You should know the Avengers’ facility is a no-sadness zone!”

And with that said, Tony right away scribbled both hands into his kid’s belly, making Peter screech.

“EeeAAAHAAaahahaaa! HeHEHE—Heyyyy! No faHAHAhahair!” Peter thrashed and kicked, instinctively trying to pull his arms down to no avail. “Mr. Stahahark! Nohoho pleasHEEAheeheehease!”

“Sorry, no can do, kiddo,” Tony casually answered over his mentee’s squeaky laughter. “I haven’t seen my underoos’ favorite smile in forever so I’m making up for lost time!”

“B-But nohohot like tha—HAAAHA! Heheheyyy!” Peter arched his back as Tony’s fingers crept up to his ribs. His blush now spread to the tips of his ears. He was cursing internally at how his Spidey strength was suddenly no longer there as he was laughing like a maniac.

Any other intense situation, Spider-Man would be able to easily get himself out of, but this was different. The ticklish sensations buzzing throughout his nervous system plus all his laughing was sapping any strength he had left, including his spider strength.

As Tony let his fingers inch closer to the teen’s underarms, he was playfully shocked when Peter tried to bite him. He pulled his hands back with a gasp.

“Whoa! What the heck was that?! What are you, a biting tarantula now?”

“You were getting too close to my armpits!” Peter shot back.

“Ohhhh I see.” Tony flashed him an evil grin that reminded Peter of that creepy, murderous knife-hiding doll from that 80s movie that always came back from the dead. “That’s your death spot, isn’t it?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his blush darkening. “N-No..?”

“Wrong answer.”

“AAAAAAHHERRHWHRHFEAAHAAAAAHAAAHA!! No Mr. Stahahahark!! NAAAHAHAHAO!!” Peter squirmed like a fish out of water, his body instinctively trying to twist away from Tony’s evil scribbling fingers. But no matter which way he turned, it didn’t help much. Tony’s fingers seemed glued to his hollows.

“EEEEAAAAHEHEEHHAAAA!! M-MR STAHAHARK!! IT…IHIHIT REALLY TIHIHAHAHA TIHIHICKLES BAAAAHAHAHD!!”

“That’s the point, kiddo! It’s more—whoa! You are just extra kicky today, aren’t you? FRIDAY, a little help here?”

“NOOOHOHOHO!”

Tony and FRIDAY had switched places; FRIDAY grabbing ahold of Peter’s flailing legs while Tony grabbed the boy’s wrists in one hand. Even as the two switched places, Tony couldn’t help but notice how Peter wasn’t putting up a fight to get away. He could’ve easily gotten up and bolted the second they let go of his limbs, or curl up with his arms wrapped around his torso so they couldn’t bring his arms up anymore, but he just laid there with a silly smile and blushy cheeks. Almost as if he secretly wanted this to keep going.

Tony had to ask the billion dollar question. “Y’know Pete, despite all your complaints, you’re not even putting up a fight to stop me or FRIDAY. Could it be because…you actually like this? You like getting tickled?”

Peter fell silent. He looked anywhere but his mentor’s eyes. He opened his mouth to answer but all that came out was stutters and keyboard smashes.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really? Look, I’m barely holding down your arms here and you’re not even trying to get away!” Peter’s face felt like was on fire now. “You know you can easily break out of my grip—even FRIDAY’s—and hightail it outta here, buuuut…I’m starting to think you don’t want to. Am I right or what?”

“I-I…” was all that came out of Peter’s mouth. Finally, he sighed and locked eyes with his mentor. His flustered, trembling lip suddenly curled into a crap-eating grin. With a defiant smirk, Peter stuck his tongue out. “Bite me, old man!”

Tony’s mouth formed a perfect O. Oh the kid was so asking for it! Recovering in a millisecond, Tony cracked his knuckled for dramatic effect. “That’s it! You’re finished, kid! You know I’m sensitive about my age!”

Peter actually had the nerve to stick his tongue out at him again.

Okay, so maybe truthfully he didn’t want this playful attack to cease. It was a great stress reliever after the rough week he endured. And if Peter wanted to dig a little deeper into it, while he was being tickled to pieces and screeching at frequencies only dogs should hear, he couldn’t think of all the bad things that had happened—his lab report incident, academic pressure, or even any general insecurities he had as Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

All he could think about in the heat of the moment was the playful ticklish feeling, the waves of dopamine, and the pure fun bonding vibe. So despite all the squealing and squirming, Peter was genuinely having fun. He’d be bummed if Tony stopped so soon. So he had to provoke his mentor some more to keep the fun going.

And that’s just what he did.

Oh, but if only FRIDAY hadn’t been traitorous enough to actually look up other sorts of tickling methods and suggest them to Tony to use against Peter.

“W-Wait! Wahahahit!! NonononoAAAAAAHAHAHEEHEHAHAAAA!! EEEEEHHAAAHAEHE!! THAT FEEHEEHEEHEELS AHAHA—AWFUFUFUL!! *snort* NAAAAAAHEHEAAHAAAAHAHAAA!!”

“Did you just snort, kid?!”

“N-Nohoho!! Shuhuhut uhuhup!! AAAAH! Waitwaitwait!! I tahahahake it baHAAAAAAHAHAAAAA!!”

Better hope that none of the Avengers nor his enemies finds out about Spider-Man’s adorable little weakness.

#sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle fluff #spiderman tickle #spiderman #marvel tickle #marvel #peter parker #tony stark #lee!peter #ler!tony #this was so much fun #eeeee <3 #mushy writes stuff

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imongmamabitch · 2 years

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A Kid? (Kazuki Kurusu x gn!reader)

...notes: I have watched buddy daddies and I love kazukii, also its 12 am so if it doesn't make sense, that's why.

...contains: fluff, a hint of angst, brief mention of cheating, brief allusion to cheating (tho it never happens)

"WHERE IS HE?!" you thought to yourself as you kept waiting for your boyfriend to call you and tell you how their mission went. It's been over 2 hours since he last texted you, the text said that everything would go smoothly and that he would come over after.

Their missions always ended fast because of how well thought out their plans were, so you don't know what's keeping Kazuki right now. You huffed and set your phone on your night stand, you'll just have to deal with it and give Kazuki his gift in the morning.

Morning came and you checked your phone first thing, still no messages. You sighed and made up your mind to just go visit Rei's place since he'd be most likely there.

You take your keys and gift and walk over to Rei's place, since his flat was just a floor below you. When you get there, you knock on the door and wait for an answer. A minute passed and nobody answered, so you knocked again. Still no response.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, is Kazuki still asleep? Normally he'd be up by now making breakfast. You knocked yet again, "Kazuki? Are you there?" At that, the door finally opened, revealing a very annoyed Rei.

"Rei! Is Kazuki home?" you asked, fiddling with the ribbon you tied Kazuki's gift with. "He's here." Rei grumbled and opened the door wide for you to go inside. Thanking him, you quickly walk to the living room, setting the gift down on the coffee table. When you turned around you saw Kazuki holding a child.

You froze.

What the hell?

Kazuki looked at you confused at first before he finally realized what you were looking at. "It- it's not what you think! Let me explain!" He waved his arm around nervously and put the child down, "Her name's Miri and we're trying to find a way to get her home."

"How did she get here?" you asked, there was no reason for you not to believe Kazuki. You trusted him with your life so you trust him enough not to have cheated on you during your relationship. He's always been a gentleman, telling you beforehand if a mission requires seduction so you wouldn't have to worry.

"I took the train!" Miri said with glee, like she was proud of herself and she most likely was. Kazuki sighs, "The things we know are that she lives far away and her mother's a singer." You think for a second, trying to remember any celebrity singer that had a child like Miri and you draw a blank.

"That doesn't really give much info." you said, "But you're going to find a way to get that information aren't you?" Kazuki scratches his head, "That's what we're doing next, we were just about to leave actually."

"We?"

"Me and Rei."

…

You crossed your arms, "You were just about to leave this child alone, in this apartment, unsupervised?" you could see Kazuki visibly start to sweat, "Rei wasn't going to stay with her so…" If looks could kill, the glare you'd sent his way would've had him dead by now.

"I'll look after her for you." you finally said after several minutes of tense silence. Kazuki sighed in relief, relieved to not be under your intense gaze any longer. He turns on the TV to a children's channel and kissed you on the cheek, "We'll be right back. Miri, be good, okay?"

Miri didn't bother to answer, eyes glued to the screen as she danced with the animated vegetables. You smile and gently push your boyfriend, "She'll be fine, dear, now go."

With that, Kazuki's off with Rei in tow, leaving you with a child, who doesn't seem to be losing energy anytime soon.

#◛✧˚ · . ataraxia reporting #buddy daddies #buddy daddies kazuki x reader #kazuki kurusu x reader #kurusu kazuki x reader #kazuki kurusu x gn reader #kurusu kazuki x gn reader #x gn reader

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niamhuncensored · 2 years

Note

Whats Fantasticland about?

SO GLAD YOU ASKED (this summary does contain some spoilers btw) Fantasticland is a book about a few hundred theme park employees, most of them teens and college students, who are trapped by a hurricane into a knockoff disneyland. it's formatted as a series of interviews. Quickly after leaving the park's storm shelters, one of them dies/is killed and this causes them to splinter into a handful of factions which the book calls "tribes" but i think should probably be called literally anything else.

The park is split into a number of different regions to accommodate different kids, so the factions take those up as territories and name themselves accordingly.

The factions are

The Deadpools. They stick to the Hero Haven and use improvised weapons.

The Pirates. Stay in the pirate cove under one of the rides. use swords, guns (iirc), and at one point a cannon. they kidnap and kill people for various reasons. The clear aggressors.

The molemen. Maintenance people who holed up in the tunnels under the park (just in case you forgot this was disneyland.) mostly keep to themselves.

The Freaks. They stick to the World circus. use traps and improvised weapons. They used halloween decorations and stories to keep everyone else out.

The fairies/pixies. stuck to the fairy prairie. decimated by the pirates, due to their disorganization.

The Robots. no fucking clue. they're not mentioned beyond the fact they exist. in fantastic future world.

The shop girls. protecting the shops on the golden road. use bows and arrows and improvised weapons.

the whole book takes place over 34 days from storm to rescue, but it's never entirely clear what's happening when. You get a vague sense, mainly, and you can kind of track it by body decomposition (not kidding), but it's wishy-washy. i guess that's natural, given the format.

The thesis statement, by the end of it, is mostly "These damn kids and their iphones" with a sprinkling of "the media and people in general are assholes who profit off of suffering."

AND IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO MUCH BETTER

The existence of one clear aggressor makes the timeline work. kind of. Because i don't think it would have become omni-directional warfare in a month, especially when A.) there is explicitly enough resources to go around and B.) everyone is so far apart (at one point a character says that you could scream bloody murder in one part of the park and not hear it in another) that they're unlikely to bother each other.

So like. it works kinda. but it doesn't serve their purpose or the story! If you're going for moral ambiguity and "are any of these kids actually Bad and Violent or are they just in an extreme situation", don't have one group provoke everything! Just make it last longer!

And if you make it last longer, you could have each group develop more of an identity based on the skills their terrain would require. Pirates are already brutal and have a literal code of honor. The deadpools could be very strong and good at parkour. The shop girls could still be badass archers but might actually fight less, since they worked retail and developed some deescalation tactics. The fairies could use poisons. the freaks could be acrobatic when they need to be. The robots could have homemade tazers or some shit. Just any kind of identity beyond the aesthetic.

and the theme is really fucking annoying holy shit. how many times have we heard some variation of "Kids are glued to their phones and this is morally corrupt"?

and btw in situations like this, people generally work together.

All in all a 4/10 hated every word mandatory reading. I feel like i just ate mashed potatoes with no butter milk or salt. cannot stop thinking about how much better or at least more fun it could have been.

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twinklelilstarkey · 3 years

Note

Can I Maybe request a fight with mtkachuk but ends happy???

A/N: Of course. Hope you like it!

You and Matt had a fight. It honestly didn’t come as a surprise. The both of you were in a bad mood the whole day and all you wanted to do was stay home and be alone. And, well, that didn't happen. All because of your plans.

You had planned, weeks prior, with your friends to go have a big evening and dinner out together. The plan was purely for the enjoyment of everyone. It didn’t require a lot of moving or walking around or even driving, so, no complaining about that. It was just a big hang out in someone’s backyard, a late lunch while you talk about life, and, eventually, late at night, a drive to a restaurant to end the day and have the last group meal.

Again, it was supposed to be something light-hearted, but it didn’t take long for Matthew to get under your skin.

Even though the bad mood was from the both of you, he didn’t even care enough to fake a smile when to greet people. Oh, and you were pissed.

You sat beside him during the whole afternoon while he scrolled through his phone and ignored most conversation starters. You tried to overcompensate and be double as social as you normally are because of it.

By the time you got to dinner, it was safe to say: you were exhausted.

And Matthew? His phone had just died so he had nothing to do but actually talk to people. Your friends were nice enough to welcome the moody man into their group conversations but no matter how many pokes you gave his side or pinches on his arm, he just didn’t seem to understand what you wanted. Which was, of course, to be slightly nicer with everyone.

The drive home was complete hell. The first few minutes were just silent, yet as soon as you get to the first red light, a simple unnecessary comment from him and you just snapped.

You two screamed at one another the whole drive, and scream after scream, it surely just ended with you just hurting one another more and more with each sentence.

You remember flashes of the last minutes before getting inside the apartment. You remember slamming the door of his car, sobbing your way through the lobby of the building, and closing yourself in your shared bedroom to cry in peace.

Matthew stayed in the car for a while longer, he ignored the shivers that ran through him when you slammed the door and he heard you sob over the loud thump. He then just stared at the grey wall in front of him in the parking lot.

Minutes passed and you still hadn’t heard the front door reopen, yet you didn’t go to check on Matt. You continued laying over the sheets of your bed, with your wet cheeks and tight chest, as you stared and sobbed at the doors of your wardrobe.

Matt had actually gotten in the apartment already, but he was so silent with the door that he believes not even a ghost heard him walk in.

He took off his shoes and winter jacket, hanging it by the door. He then dragged his feet from the wooden floors of his home and made his way to the bedroom door.

His hand laid over the door handle and he stopped his movements when he heard another soft sob from the other side of the door. He lifted his hand and took a step back, staring at the dark door in silence.

He made you cry and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Matthew closed his hand into a fist and let it fall to his side. He couldn’t just walk in there and act like what happened just didn’t. Right?

He brought his hand over his curls and brushed them back in frustration. His eyes drifted to the ground as he thought of a solution but nothing came to mind.

And with that, he decided to walk back to the other side of the house, to the living room, where he slept.

This morning, the first thing you did when you woke up was to quickly lay your hand over the opposite side of the bed. Cold. Your eyes opened slowly over the bright sunlight and you let out a groan.

You had a headache that was completely out of this world, almost as if you were with a hungover. But guess that’s what crying until you fall asleep gets you.

You forced yourself out of bed and quickly changed into some comfortable clothes - some shorts and one of Matt’s old shirts.

Now, when you're washing your face, as you look at yourself in the mirror, you tense up.

You didn’t hear Matthew come home, yesterday.

You, in light speed, turn off the water and dry your face with the towel. You walk out of the bathroom and bedroom and start making your way down the hallway.

The house is silent. Too silent.

As you reach the front door, you eye the hanger by it. His jacket is there, and so are his shoes, right under it. His keys are in the little platter on top of the table right at the entrance.

He’s home.

A sudden feeling of relief washes over you and you decide to make your way to the living room. And that’s where you find him. Sleeping on his side over the large couch.

You take silent steps over to him and notice the soft scowl over his features. You also notice that he didn’t change clothes, he’s still in his jeans and hoodie. Probably not very comfortable.

No matter how mad and sad you were yesterday, you didn’t want him to sleep on the couch, or even not go into the bedroom to get clothes. This room is the coldest of the apartment and the couch is only good for short naps. You can’t even imagine how much his back will hurt when he wakes up.

You walk closer to him and decide to not fight off your wishes. You crouch next to the couch and eye Matt’s sleeping form. You raise your hand and brush his curls back, away from his forehead.

He shifts slightly at your sudden touch, yet you don’t pull away. Your fingers play with the shorter hair on the sides of his head and your fingers then move to caress his temple.

No matter how much he hurt you yesterday, you still love him. You guys have known each other for years, it’s not your first fight, so, it’s not as painful as one would imagine it. At least not on the next day.

Your gaze shifts over to his phone on the side table next to the couch. You reach for it, and, yeah, still no battery. Without taking a second to think, you stand up back on your feet and go over to the charger by the TV.

While you’re connecting it to the charger, a voice breaks the silence in the room.

“What time is it?”

You quickly stand back on your feet and turn to Matthew, who is still laying down but is squinting at the light in the room.

“It’s early.” You tell me, “Probably around 9.”

He nods to let you know that he heard you and you finally force yourself to walk over to him again. Matthew opens his eyes when you stand in front of the light that was attacking him and he stares up at you in silence for just a few seconds before lifting his hand up at you. You take it hesitatingly and he pulls you closer to him. To lay with him.

Matthew turns on his side to open some space for you between him and the couch and you finally do as told. You, carefully and slowly, step over his legs on top of the couch and take a seat before finally laying.

Your faces are close to one another. Your back is glued to the couch and your chest to practically touching Matt’s, yet you don’t hesitate to look up at him.

“When did you come home?” You ask, still with your hand in his.

“Right after you did.” He tells you and you frown a bit, “I was just quiet.”

You nod understandably and feel him start to move his hand on yours. For a second you expect him to pull his hand away, but he does the opposite, he intertwines your fingers with his before letting your hands fall between you two.

“I’m sorry for yesterday.” He breaks the silence. “I was an ass and you didn’t deserve that.”

You give him a small smile and a little shake with your head as if to dismiss whatever had happened yesterday.

“I should’ve apologized right away, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry.” He says it again.

“I forgive you, Matty. Don’t worry about it.” You tell him with a soft tone.

“I have to worry.” He tells you, “You were crying, Y/N. I said so much stupid shit. To you and your friends.”

You let go of his hand and lay yours over his cheek.

“You’re forgiven.” You tell him while looking into his worried eyes, “Just- just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” He tells you, “I promise. I’m never going to be that much of an ass ever again.”

You smile at him and look down at his lips.

You can tell just by the look he’s giving you that he’s still beating himself for it, probably feeling like his apology wasn’t good enough. He has reacted like that before, in smaller arguments, and did end up apologizing to you for more than a week straight - even though you forgave him on the second day.

Sure, his apology is not the long romantic one that leaves a girl swooning at how good he is with words or makes a heart melt, but it’s good enough for you. For all the years you’ve known him, you can tell when he’s apologizing because he needs to and when he wants to. It’s all in his tone and his expression.

He means what he says, even though it’s not much. And just in case you still have a little voice in the back of your mind telling you that you forgave him too quickly, don’t you worry, because he is not done. Expect a minimum of 20 more “I’m sorry’s” just for the rest of the hour.

“Another thing.” You start and he nods quickly, “Please don’t ever sleep on this couch again. Just go sleep on the bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you more upse-”

“You wouldn’t.” You tell him, “Believe me.”

He nods understandingly and you finally land a kiss over his lips. It’s a simple peck, but it’s one that Matthew was dying to get. It relieves some of the pressure in his overthinking mind, and he felt right away. Even if it’s just temporary, it gives him some sort of comfort.

When you pull away and give him a soft grin, his eyes stare back at you lovingly.

“I love you.” He whispers at you. “I’m sorry.”

Your grin stretches into a smile and you give him a very quick kiss.

Here we go.

“Love you too, Matty.” You tell him.

Hope this is good!! I’m kinda worried that this is too rushed but sometimes I just really don’t know how to make it better.

#Matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk imagines #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk fanfic #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey

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flowersbby · 4 years

Text

Drawn to You | Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

Warning: Makeout, This is a lil long (I got carried away)

Word count: 3859

It was a typical night for you. You had your music playing faintly in the background while you were writing notes for your anatomy & physiology class when you felt your phone vibrate violently on your desk, which caused your French bulldog, Royal, to wake up from his snoring slumber on your lap. With an annoyed huff, you pick up your phone and notice your best friend Rae had texted you numerous times.

Rae 😴

Hey!

Among Us!

Now!

Need 10th person!

Pleaseeeeee

You stared at the messages for a minute. You were confused on why she asked you of all people. You were the opposite of the many streaming friends she had who were loud, funny, and all around GOOD at games. Your shy character would not fit well on her stream and you knew that. Plus, the only games you’ve played are Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing, which requires no communication with people and you preferred it that way.

You

Why me? I’m in the middle of writing notes.

Rae 😴

There’s this person I want you to meet!

He’s really nice and you’ll warm up to the group in no time, I promise!

I won’t let them be mean to you 😤😤

They’re nice ppl anyway so they wont be mean lol

You

Okay.. let me load up my discord

Rae 😴

Yayy!

I already bought among us for you last time I was over so you’re good to go!

‘What? When did she find the time to buy the game for me? We were literally together the whole time she was here.’ You thought, but quickly dismissed it and loaded up discord. Right as you got online, you got an invite from Rae. You quickly grabbed your headset and adjusted your mic before joining the call. You petted Royal in an attempt to calm your nerves as you saw 9 peoples profile pictures appear in front of you. You only recognized Rae’s, of course.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Rae exclaimed, “Guys, this is my best friend (Y/N)! Introduce yourselves!”

“Hi, I’m Toast!” Said the man with the toast icon. You smiled at his profile picture. You found it cute.

“I’m Jack!” Said an Irish voice. You know Jack. You used to watch his videos a lot.

“I’m Poki!” Said a girl with a really sweet voice, “Nice to meet you!” You were about to say hello back when someone else chimed in.

“Hello, I’m Felix!” You recognized that Swedish accent. He was the most well known YouTuber, of course.

“Nice to meet you!” Said a really soft voice, “I’m Sykkuno!” His voice reminded you of an anime boy. You smiled to yourself.

“Hi, I’m Lily!” Said a really cute and high pitched voice.

“Hi everyon-” You went to introduce yourself properly until you got cut off.

“I’m Corpse.” Said a deep, attractive voice. Your eyes widened for a second, his voice catching you off guard.

“H-hello,” You attempt to say hello again but this time you’re a little shaken up by Corpse’s voice, but you get it together by petting Royal once again. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you all!”

“Your voice is so adorable!” Says Lily. You smile at the fact that someone who’s voice is equally as adorable complimented yours.

“Thank you!” You respond, “Your voice is adorable too, Oh my God!”

Lily giggles at your compliment. “Alright!” Exclaimed Rae, “Ready to play (N/N)?” You quickly realized you forgot to load up Among Us before hand. You were silently kicking yourself for not doing such a simple thing. Now they’re gonna have to wait longer to play because of you and they already waited long enough for you to join the discord call.

“Um..” You stall as you hurriedly click on the Among Us icon. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to load it up.. but it’s loading right now!” Your eyes are glued to the screen as if it’ll make the game boot up faster.

“That’s okay.” Said Corpse in the most kind voice. “It won’t take that long.” You feel heat rushing to your cheeks just by hearing his voice. Who is this man and why is he making you feel like this?

They all agreed with Corpse and continued chatting about whatever they were chatting about before you joined the call. You were half listening as you were trying to figure out what to do as the game loaded up. Just as you were about to ask Rae, Corpse sent you the game code through a private message. You typed “Thank you!” as you quickly entered your name and then the game code.

“Woo! (Y/N)’s here!’ Said Rae happily. “Choose your color and your hat!” ‘Where do I do that?’ You thought to yourself but quickly found it. You wanted to be pink but it wouldn’t let you choose it.

“Why isn’t it letting me choose pink?” You asked.

“It’s because Corpse is pink.” Explained Lily. “He took it from me too.” She said with a sad, but funny, tone.

“I can be a different color.” Corpse said and quickly changed his color from pink to white.

“Oh, Thank you!” You said happily and picked a flower to match it.

“No problem.” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice. It made butterflies appear in your stomach.

“Are you kidding me?!” Said a laughing Lily. “I literally ARGUED with you about letting me have pink!”

“I sense something happening...” Cooed Rae in a sing songy voice. The whole group then erupted in “Ooooo’s”. This made you blush. You covered your face even though they couldn’t see you and Corpse chuckled, which only made you blush more.

Before the game started they all explained to you how to play so you wouldn’t be lost. This calmed your nerves a bit and when the game started you were happily going around the ship completing your tasks. Watering the plants was your favorite so far since you found it satisfying how the plants grew. You saw Corpse run up to you and you made your character step away a bit because you didn’t want to get killed. He instead ran circles around you and you decided to follow him for the rest of the game for safety. You both encountered Rae and Toast by the vending machines but didn’t think much of it and waited for Corpse to finish his task. Until Rae killed you and Toast killed Corpse. “A double kill?!” You shouted to yourself, causing Royal to wake up and slowly get off your lap. “I’m sorry buddy..” You said to him as he laid down in his dog bed. You turn your attention back to the screen as someone found you and Corpse’s dead bodies.

“Um, bodies found by the vending machines.” Said Felix who didn’t sound all too confident. “Jack where were you?” He asked.

“I was in..” As Jack was about to explain himself you heard a ‘pop’ emit from your headphones and saw a red dot by the messages icon. You clicked it and saw it was a message from Corpse. You completely stopped caring about the arguing going on through your headphones as Jack was trying to claim innocence.

“I like your flower :)” It read. You smiled big and immediately typed back.

Your fingers hovered over the keys thinking about what to type back but you settled on a simple “Thank you :D”.

After two games or so everyone got tired and decided to head out. You all said your goodbyes and watched as each person slowly began to leave the call. You didn’t want to leave until you were sure everybody was gone. Everybody left but Corpse. “Hey..” He said, sounding a little shy but it was probably just because he was tired.

“Hi!” You said a little too excited. You immediately wished you could reword what you said a little calmer.

“So, uh..” He began, “Could I possibly get your number? For Among Us games I mean?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself but him asking this made you beam with excitement.

“Of course.” You said calmer than before, “But I don’t know what help I’d be as I’m terrible at this game.” You giggled.

You typed in chat your number, your fingers shaking slightly. “Nah, I liked playing with you.” He said more confident, “You make it more fun. Even though I haven’t ever spoken to you before.” He chuckled. You smiled at his words. Butterflies formed in your stomach hearing him laugh.

You and Corpse chatted a bit more until he decided he should go, but you wished you guys could have kept talking the whole night. You felt this connection with him that you couldn’t put into words. It felt so easy for you to talk to him and you didn’t feel as nervous around him as the others you met today. There was something so calming about him that washed your fears away. You shook your head from the thoughts and told yourself that you just met him today, you shouldn’t get ahead of yourself but it was hard not to.

You were laying in your bed scrolling through twitter when you got a text.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

hey its corpse

is this (Y/N)?

Your heart skipped a beat. You were excited Corpse texted you so fast, hoping you two could continue talking.

You

That’s me!

I thought you were going to sleep?

Corpse🥺🖤

nah i hardly ever sleep i just left because i didnt want to keep you up

i really enjoyed playing with you

You

I enjoyed playing with you too

We should play together again soon

Corpse🥺🖤

definitely

You’ve begun to become really good friends with Corpse over the past week. You and him would facetime each other whenever you could. You always were on facetime with him, actually. Whenever you were studying, you guys were talking. Whenever he was editing, you guys were talking. When you were about to go to bed, you guys were talking.

Right now, you guys were facetiming as you were studying for an upcoming exam and he was trying to stay awake. You liked having him around when you were studying even if it was through a phone. You didn’t feel pressured to talk or have to worry about an awkward silence with him. It was comfortable silence.

You started to worry that you were keeping him up, though. “You can go to bed if you want,” You said softly as you looked up from your textbook to the black screen propped up against a few books. “ I don’t want to keep you up. You need some rest.”

“No..” He muttered, “I like having you around..”

“I like having you around too Corpsie but we can talk when you wake up.” You told him a little sternly in an effort to convince him to go to bed.

“Can I ask you something?” He asked out of the blue.

You paused before answering and shifted your gaze to the black screen once again. “Yeah sure, go ahead.”

“Do you want to maybe stay over here for a bit?” He asked, “Whenever you’re free, I mean. If you don’t want to I get that too I just feel so drawn to you I want you closer to me. Is that weird? I’m sorry if that’s weird. Actually, forget I said-”

“I’d love to come over.” You told him with a smile. “When would you want me to be there?”

“As soon as possible.” He said in his raspy, tired voice. Butterflies formed in your stomach and you felt your heart skip a beat. This man was something else.

“I can be over there in the morning..” You start, “I just have to pack and everything. Is it okay if I bring Royal? I don’t want to leave him with my sister.” You look over to Royal sleeping peacefully on your bed, snoring away.

“Hell yeah!” Corpse exclaimed, “I love animals! Bring him over.” You giggled at his excitement.

Corpse ended up falling asleep soon after and you ended the call. As you were getting ready for bed you began to think of what Corpse’s place would be like and what you guys would do. You were definitely going to show him Stardew Valley, that was for sure. You pondered the thought of you finally confessing to him that you wanted to be not just his friend, but girlfriend. You’ve been wanting to do it for awhile now but you get too scared and end up chickening out, so you figured if he liked you like you like him, he’d make the first move. You started to make up scenarios in your head about finally hanging out with Corpse in person as you drifted off to sleep, hearing Royal snoring peacefully in the background.

It was the next morning and as soon as you woke up you changed into your favorite outfit and began to pack. You didn’t know how long you were staying for but you decided to pack about 2 weeks worth of clothes just to be on the safe side. Royal was sitting on the floor watching you as you hurried from your closet to the suitcase on your bed. You were happily humming as you were excited about the day. You heard your phone buzz and you quickly grabbed it from your bed as you saw the name pop up on the screen.

Corpse🥺🖤

hey :)

heres the address:

You

Thanks! and hello 😊

You two texted until you were ready to go. You were definitely NOT looking forward to driving two and a half hours from LA to San Diego but you were so excited to see Corpse that the dread of the long car ride washed away.

You put Royal into his harness and plopped him in the back seat. He looked at you confused since he rarely ever gets to go for rides in the car. “We’re going to see a friend!” You tell him while petting his head. He then laid down and began to close his eyes.

After what seemed like forever you were finally outside Corpse’s apartment. You grabbed Royal and attached his leash to his harness and then proceeded to grab your giant (and heavy) suitcase out of the trunk. You struggled getting the suitcase up the apartment building stairs but you managed. You felt a sense of relief that his apartment building had an elevator so you didn’t have to deal with more stairs. The ones at the entrance were enough. While you were waiting for the elevator to take you to his floor you took this opportunity to text him.

You

On my way up!

Almost immediately after you sent it he read it. He started typing but the three dots quickly disappeared. Before you could question it the elevator doors opened to his floor. “Come on, Bud!” You said to Royal and motioned for him to go ahead. Royal got up from his sitting stance and lead the way. After passing 2 other doors, you were at Corpse’s. You knocked two times.

You heard shuffling on the other side and the door knob turning shortly after. Before you knew it, Corpse was in front of you. His eyes were looking at yours. You immediately smiled. “Hi.” Corpse said with a slight smile as well.

“Hi..” You said shyly. You didn’t know how to react now that he was in front of you and not behind a screen. He stepped aside and motioned for you to come inside. You entered his apartment and set your suitcase by the couch. Royal was pawing at Corpse’s leg, begging for pets.

“Aww, hi buddy!” Corpse said excitedly. “He’s so well behaved.” Corpse was talking to you now.

“Yeah, it took work though.” You laughed slightly. “Your place is really nice.” You said as you looked around. You noticed all of his mirrors were covered up, but you decided not to ask him about that. He probably had his reasons.

“Thank you.” Corpse said as he looked at you. “You look pretty.”

You blushed and turned your head away from him so he couldn’t see your pink cheeks. “Thank you.”

Corpse cleared his throat, “So uh, I don’t have a guest bedroom so I’ll take the couch for however long you want to stay.”

You quickly shot your head at him. “No no no I’m not letting you sleep on the couch in your own apartment.” You argued with him.

“Well, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” Corpse stated.

“Then we’ll share your bed.” You said with a shrug and headed towards his room to set your suitcase down, Royal following closely behind you. You didn’t see anything wrong with it. You and Rae share one whenever you guys sleep over at each other’s house and you thought this was no different

“O-okay.” He responded and quickly followed after you, “So, this is my room.” he said as you and him both entered.

“I like it!” You exclaimed as you looked around. You liked how dark it was in there. You smiled at him and he smiled back at you. That smile.. You thought and quickly fumbled with your suitcase as you set it down by his closet. Corpse came closer to you.

“Can I give you a hug?” Corpse said a little shyly, as if I’d say no.

“Of course!” You said and wrapped your arms around his neck. He was taken aback but quickly put his hands around your waist. You caught a whiff of his mild cologne which made you want to stay in the hug a little longer. You didn’t want to be weird though and pulled away from the embrace.

“I’m really happy you’re here.” He said as he looked into your eyes. I could kiss him right now, oh my God. Your mind raced, but you managed to get out some words.

“I am, too.” You said.

It’s only been about a day since you’ve been over at Corpse’s. Sharing the bed seems to be no big deal as he barely seems to sleep. You so far liked being there with him.

Right now, you were on the phone with an overly excited Rae.

“You’re at his HOUSE?!” She yelled excitedly in your ear. Your face cringed a little bit from the yelling.

“Yeah,” You told her, “He has a really nice place.” You said as you scanned his living room.

“I knew you guys would hit it off!” Rae said, “I should be a matchmaker or something.” You blushed at her comment.

“Nothing’s happened yet.” You said quietly, not wanting Corpse to hear you.

“Girl, you’re at his house.” Rae said in a obvious tone. You rolled your eyes.

“This could just mean he likes having me over as a FRIEND.” You told her. You were hoping that wasn’t the case though and Corpse did have feelings for you. You smiled at the thought.

“You are so oblivious.” Rae said with a sigh, “Anyway, I gotta go workout. Love ya! Hope everything goes well!” She said the last part in her sing songy voice.

“Love you too!” You said back and ended the call. What do I do now? You thought. Corpse was streaming so you couldn’t hangout with him right now and your physics class isn’t till a few hours. You were hungry, though, and decided to cook some lunch for you and Corpse. It’ll be a nice surprise for him. You smiled at the thought.

You made your delicious Dorito taco salad that you love so much. You made a bowl for Corpse as well and took it to his room where he resided. He didn’t seem to be streaming anymore and was just scrolling through Twitter on his computer.

“I come with food!” You say as you place the bowl down in front of him. You seem to have startled him as he jumped slightly when you spoke. He examined the bowl suspiciously.

“What is this?” He says cautiously of your creation.

“It’s Dorito taco salad.” You explain, “It has crushed up Doritos, of course, shredded chicken, lettuce, olives, and sour cream in it.” He seemed to be skeptical of it, which was a given every time you made it for someone new, but people ended up loving it when they tasted it. You were confused as to how many people found it weird since your mom made it for you when you were a kid a ton, so you were used to the delicious lunch dish.

“Okay.” He said and took a bite of it. His eyes lit up. “Oh my god, this is so good!” He exclaimed and took another bite. You giggled with excitement that he loved it like you did.

You both ate together and laid down on the bed as you talked about random things that were going on in your lives. You guys were laughing at a joke Corpse said until Corpse got serious.

“I have to tell you something.” Corpse said and looked into your eyes.

“Okay,” You said confused, “Go ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “I like you.” He confessed, “Like, romantically. I have for awhile now actually and I don’t know what it is about you and I thought I was done with love but you make me feel so happy and different from anyone else I’ve talked to. You don’t have to feel the same way but I couldn’t keep my feelings in for any longer.”

You paused for a moment. Is this actually happening? Are you in a dream? “I like you too, Corpse.” You say softly. His eyes beam with excitement..

“Really?” He asks.

You laugh at his bewilderment. “Yes, really!”

He tackles you in a hug on the bed. You giggle from his excitement. He’s on top of you and he lifts his head up from your neck to look you in the eyes. You get a rush of emotions as you see the care and love in his eyes as he’s looking at you.

You blurt out what you were thinking in that exact moment. “Kiss me.”

He leans in and kisses you softly. One hand is holding him up on the bed as the other is cupping your cheek. You take one hand and tangle it in his hair. This causes him to deepen the kiss with you. The kiss turns rough. You’re both so in the moment you don’t want to come up for air but you guys manage to keep going by taking in air when your lips part for brief moments. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now next to your head, taking the responsibility of holding him up. The other hand is trailing up and down your thigh, squeezing your thigh tightly ever so often. You eventually break the heated kiss and look up at him. You were hoping he could see the love you had for him in your eyes.

“I liked that.” You say smiling.

He chuckled at your words. “I like it too.”

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse #fic #fanfic

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hozierandco · 3 years

Text

Henry Cavill x Reader / Lessons / SMUT

A/N: Henry has to learn how to play golf for a film but his teacher may teach him a bit more than golf. In which Henry is a clumsy cinnamon roll. Inuendos intended, sorry not sorry. SMUT: oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, teasing, cursing, cumshot. Read at your own risk.

For the sake of a film in which he would play an aristocrat, Henry had to know how to play golf. He had agreed to it though he never had one single piece of knowledge on the matter.

Him who had done life-endangering stunts was not going to abandon for golf. He had three weeks before the beginning of the set and had decided to spend his holidays at a golf resort off in Scotland where he was determined to master the skills to that sport.

Y/N had been working at the Baurheid Club for the past five summers. The rest of the year, she lived in Glasgow but since her uncle was the club's manager and since she knew all about golf, she kept on working there.

The season was about to start and she was in charge of giving private classes for top-notch clients. Her rock solid privacy was celebrated by all and she was the perfect fit to deal with bankers and members of the idle class. An actor was about to complete the list.

"Y/N, here's the list of your clients for the next week"

Three names as each client required all attention. Quality over quantity was the motto of the club on that regard. The second one rang a bell to Y/N: Henry Cavill.

"Why does that name sound familiar? We've already have him, perhaps?" Y/N asked to Olivia who was welcoming the clients in the resort and who happened to be a close friend to Y/N.

"He's an actor, you fool" she replied in a moment of rest from the wave of clients "A handsome one too, lucky you!"

Instead of rejoicing along with Olivia, Y/N just hoped he was not the megalomaniac kind and that he wouldn't be a nightmare to work with. She went on with her day, many things had to be fixed before her first classes the next day.

Henry arrived by the entrance desk where Olivia acknowledged him and welcomed her just like any other client, in spite of her shouting internally. He had packed the bare minimum so his installment was brief.

The next day, it was almost noon when he woke up so he took himself out to the cafeteria.

Y/N had finished her first class of the day with a young member of the Dutch royal family and was gaining back the main accomodatio, up to the staff's lunch room. She had not changed clothes as she was not to meet any client.

Or so she thought.

"Oh, come on now!" Y/N heard someone grunting in her back as she was about to open the door to the place where she had left her food. She turned around only to see a frustrated Henry Cavill.

"May I help you, sir?" Y/N asked.

"Yes, please!" Henry jumped on the occasion "I'm looking for the lunch room but I always end up in this corridor... It's a bloody labyrinth there", he added holding back a nervous laugh.

Henry came back from his frustration as his misery was coming to an end with Y/N's arrival and that's on his way back that he noticed just how splendid Y/N was.

"Please, let me be your guide"

"Thank you very much. By the way, I'm Henry"

"And I'm Y/N", she responded making the connection with the photograph of Henry Olivia had shown her on her phone.

Along their journey to the lunch room, the two of them made some small talk while Y/N had to keep her composure. Olivia was right, he was bloody handsome. Even more so that on any photograph. And besides, he was visibly not a douche but an angel, making her feel at ease early on in their conversation.

As they arrived by the cafeteria filled with expensive furniture, the actor accompanied his "thank yous" with an offer: "I'm all alone at the resort, I could use some company for the lunch"

It was tempting if it wasn't for the fact that Y/N and the whole staff wasn't allowed to eat with the clients.

"Oh I see..." Henry said as Y/N explained the situation "But what if it's the client's decision. Isn't the customer always right?" he completed, glad he had found this trick to make her stay.

"Well, I suppose that it's the rule, yeah..." Y/N had been upset to decline the offer but she figured that indeed, she could stay a little while. Besides, the cafeteria was big enough for her not to be seen by anyone.

"It's a yes, then?"

"Yes, it is"

"So, what do you do here anyway?" Henry asked her as he came back from the buffet.

"I'm a golf instructor"

"Well, in that case, I'll probably see you on the green"

"About that, I should probably tell you that I'm the one who's gonna take care of your lessons for as long as you stay"

"I cannot wait. Though I should apologise in advance"

Y/N quizzed him by fixing his eyes. Shit, those eyes... Don't stare, don't stare, Y/N thought.

"I'm probably the worst golf player in Britain"

***

"You want to hold it like that" Y/N informed the way to seize the putter as she placed herself behind the impressive stature she had in front of her.

She could not believe that she was giving in the cliché of being glued to get someone to play golf.

Henry had not exaggerated, he indeed was pretty bad. In fact, he lacked of coordination and Y/N had to constantly remind him of how he was supposed to swing his body.

"May I?"

"Yes!" Henry was relieved to hear that he would get more help from her as she suggested than she could grab his arms to show the move.

She took his arms by the elbows. Henry being in a polo, she could feel all of his muscles under her touch.

"There, that's right! You've got the move. Now try to hit the ball"

And Henry executed himself but failed to even graze it. He snickered and then gave in a frank laughter that Y/N echoed.

"Right, you're gonna need to spend more time with me, Mr. Cavill"

"It's all I'm dreaming of. Dinner with me tonight in the garden?"

The class ended and for Y/N, it meant the beginning of her third and last class of the day.

As it was only 4 pm, Henry joined the games room where he had a view on the green where Y/N was helping an old lady to practice.

Of course, Y/N was too busy to notice him but it didn't stop him to smile like a child at her.

He was admiring her grace and her air of benevolence when a man came to him "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

Henry nodded at the stranger who in turns carried on "It must run in the family"

As Henry took his eyes oof of Y/N to see whom he was talking to, the stranger introduced himself "I'm Max, the club's manager. Y/N's uncle"

"Oh! How do you do? I'm Henry"

Max nodded, knowing very well who his select guest was.

"Is she a great teacher to you?"

"For sure. It's just that I'm a terrible pupil"

Max laughed along with Henry "Ah, son, she'll make a great player out of you"

The dinner happened. Henry had changed into another polo paired with camel chinos.

Y/N too had changed into a strapless floral dress with brown sandals. She greeted Henry as she sat down in the grass on which Henry had displayed a basket of fruits.

They started drinking and talking as the moon rose in the sky.

"I've talked with your uncle this afternoon"

"Oh have you? He's quite something, isn't he?"

"That he is. According to him, you're the greatest teacher out there"

"And you doubt it?"

"I'll try to be as good as a lamb for you"

After dinner, Y/N suggested that they take a walk around the resort. Any way to make the night last longer was worth seizing.

Everything was calm. No one around. Under their feet, the grass was slightly wet as dew had started forming and tinting their shoes.

Y/N took off her shoes, soon followed by Henry who had not done something as spontaneous as throwing a picnic in a very long time.

With their shoes in their hands, they carried on walking on the grass as crickets were going for a symphony and more and more windows got dark afar.

"It's been ages since I hadn't spent a lovely night like that" Henry sighed with pleasure "but that being said, I should hit my bed if I want to be at the top of my performance for my strict instructor"

The two of them had gotten very close to one another "If I stay now, I'm staying the whole night" Henry commented as Y/N's lips were dangerously close to his.

"I would let you" Y/N replied.

***

Henry and Y/N had met regularly apart from the times set for the classes over the last two weeks and if Henry had barely gotten better, the two of them had grown fond of the other. They had kissed on the fourth night, but both of them were not craving for more. Henry did not wish to rush things, nor did Y/N though the tension became unbearable.

"Do you think your uncle would kick you out if you spent the night at my room tonight?" Henry ventured as the class was over, wishing that he could kiss her right there, on the green.

"I wouldn't mind being kicked out if it meant spending the night with you" Y/N answered as she put back the clubs in the trolley.

After they finished eating at their favourite spot, Henry seized Y/N's hand and together they traveld to his room.

As Henry opened the door, he preceded Y/N,cupping her face with his hands to make her follow him in the suite.

He shut the door behind her and took her in his arms, only letting go on her after having carefully laid her on the bed.

"It is my turn to teach you a lesson, baby", he purred in her ear as he had let his lips wander from her legs to her face.

He placed his body over Y/N's but suddenly he got repentant and cursed "Fuck, I came here with nothing..."

Of course, Henry had no plans of making love to his instructor when he had booked holidays at the resort and found himself caught off guard, without protection for the night.

"In my purse" Y/N told him where to look.

"You might just be the most prepared teacher ever"

"Just grab it" Y/N begged him as he was going for encores, giving another sequel of kisses to her skin.

Henry ripped the scabbard and took his apparel out of his trousers, dressing it for the occasion.

Gracious God! There was lot to look at...

Fully erect, Henry came back in bed where Y/N was trying her best not to stare at the length.

"You sure about this?" Henry inquired as he aligned himself.

"Never been more sure in my whole life"

Henry then slid his member, inch by inch to be sure that Y/N was coping with what she was given.

He was just half through when it began to hurt.

"It's alright, doll!" Henry consoled her "I'm sorry, I'll go slow, I promise"

Henry found his way out as he had an idea to ease the process. Y/N still under him, he got down on her and made a feast of the flesh flashing before his eyes.

There was no doubt: he was much better at this than with golf.

As Y/N looked down at the face that had found shelter between her legs, she noticed just how dedicate he was. He was giving it all the attention required.

His eyes were glistening by the feeble light above their head.

Henry's cock was beating a rhythm of its own, pleased at it was that Henry was able to make Y/N moan with just his tongue and fingers.

The resort was known for "its quiet nights" and "tranquil setting" but tonight, Henry was eager to go off the rails.

It did have the expected effect on Y/N since her lair had gotten damp. Henry let her come back from the mountain she had climbed before he dived inside.

This time around, the whole length got in no sooner said than done.

"You're just so gorgeous!" Henry articulated with difficulty as he was carrying his moves, putting more energy by every second that went by.

Y/N's fingers borrowed the path drawn by his torso which was dripping with sweat "You're one very good student. And a very hot one too"

Henry's heart was pounding in his chest as he lifted Y/N's legs to put them by each side of his spine. That way, he reached a new spot with the tip of his penis which made Y/N pant with his name on her lips.

"Henry!" she cried her lungs out through the dark of the night. The tranquil nights long gone.

"Come for me, doll!"

She didn't have to hear twice as she was unleashing her falls.

But Henry was insatiable. Though teased twice by the sight of Y/N coming for him, his cock was still showing no sign of weakness.

He was willing to let go of her lover to give her some rest while he would take care of himself but Y/N stopped him as he was about to take off the condom.

"I wouldn't mind a third lesson" she told him "Let's change the angle. Show me how your swing's going. As for your stamina, Mr. Cavill, it got much better"

Y/N got on all fours, spreading her legs for Henry to come up behind her. As he entered the well, Y/N stretched herself so that she in turn allowed more of Hnery to get in and out.

Henry was admiring the view as he held Y/N by her hips, pounding her.

In and out, fast at first, the sounds of his cock hitting the bottom of her cunt.

Then Henry who got tired of the the action - and who was not going to hold it back for very much longer as Y/N's moans were rushing his climax - got slow, savouring every second he had ahead of him before he would come too.

Sensing that Y/N was close to get her third orgasm as she got tight around his cock, he decided for her to come to do so as well, and hoped that it would arrive soon.

She did come, shouting and laughing as she came back.

"I don't want you to come in that. I want to see you coming for me, Henry"

Henry then quickly removed the piece of latex which was soiled with pre-cum. The sole fact of taking it off almost made him come.

Henry kneeled on the bed by the level of Y/N who was laying down and emptied himself on her stomach.

"I cannot wait for our next class" Henry said in a sigh as he rested his limbs by Y/N.

#henry cavill #imagines #henry cavill imagines #smut #oops i guess #mind that i wrote smut in the train for the sake of science #henry cavill x reader

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cherryyharryy · 3 years

Note

please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

#Harry styles requested #Harry styles requests #requests #request #harry styles fic #cherryyharryy #harry styles one shot #harry styles angst to fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff

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from-the-clouds · 3 years

Text

Home (Part II) - Zemo/Reader

Part One | Masterlist

Summary: Healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. Gender neutral reader/pronouns.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of abuse, starvation, weight loss, probably PTSD.

A/N: Guess what, I’m still alive! and still obsessed with Zemo, apparently. For those of you who don’t know, I am a freelancer and certain jobs get really intense and draining for me, so I don’t have much time to do anything else creative in my free time. But I would like to get back to posting more regularly on here, so please shoot me a PM or message if you’d like to see something specific. Also I hit 1,000 followers on here, so maybe I’ll do some kind of celebration for that?

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Despite what you thought, healing was a complex task.

Helmut didn’t leave your side.

You assumed that he did, he had to, at some point, maybe while you weren’t conscious he’d sneak off to shower, to eat, and tend to himself.

Each time you woke up he was there, most likely thumbing through a book in a chair next to your bed, or speaking on the phone in the corner in hushed tones. He’d be nursing a whiskey, or smoking a cigarette while leaning out of the open window, a bad habit of his when stressed.

During that first week, when the pain, bone-deep and relentless, refused to retreat and kept you glued into bed, he stayed through it all. It wasn’t just the pain, it was it’s consistency, which was wearing down your resolve. Being frail was becoming frustrating, and had tears pinching at the back of your eyes, though you’d never let your caretakers see.

Independence -- one of your qualities you were the most proud of -- was stripped from you entirely, and you were left to rely on others. Everything required assistance, especially the most intimate parts of your day-to-day life. And while Helmut had seen you -- and even put you -- in almost every compromising position throughout your marriage, this was different. No matter how much you loved him, there was only so much vulnerability you were willing to display to your husband. Preserving your dignity was important, and he’d hired a nurse to help assist you with those parts of your day-to-day life.

Recovering was exhausting, you were rarely able to spend more than an hour or two awake before sleep pulled you back into its unwelcome embrace, fighting it always ended in defeat.

Then would come the nightmares -- that you were back in that awful place, the comfort of home and your husband had all been an illusion.. And Helmut would be by your side as you woke up panting, whimpering, sweat on your brow. Sometimes he was the one to wake you, a warm hand on your face, a squeeze on your shoulder, a grip that grew tighter and tighter. Each time, his eyes would hold less and less of the kindness meant for you, the fire burning behind them was overpowering.

However, as doting as he was, besides that first night, he rarely touched you. When he did, it was hesitant, short-lived. He no longer slept in the bed you once shared. Every fleeting brush of his fingers across your palm, forehead, along your jawline seemed to sting, he’d recoil like you were dangerous, like if he lingered too long, you’d bite. All you wanted was his affection, but you couldn’t find the energy to approach the subject. He’d already done so much, it would be selfish to ask for any more.

But you needed more. It wasn’t enough just to have him there. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be held in his arms, to press your lips to the underside of his jaw, let you head rest in the crook of his neck. At the very least, you wanted to talk to him, hear the lull of his voice as he told one of his long-winded stories. Unfortunately, general pleasantries were all you could manage before nodding off. In some ways, despite his proximity, you felt more distant from your husband than you ever had.

A bit after the first week, you turned a corner. The edge of the aches and pains were beginning to dull, and while fatigue still weighed down each joint of your body, moving wasn’t as difficult and you could spend more and more time on your feet.

Helmut had stepped out for lunch, and you decided to use the time to finally take a proper shower.

Padding into your bathroom, the tiles were cool, never cold, thanks to under the floor heating.

Waiting for the water to heat up, you decided to work up enough courage to look at yourself in the mirror.

Carefully slipping out of the pajamas you wore, you stared at your reflection. Not surprising was the amount of weight you had lost, of course that tends to happen when deprived of food and water for weeks on end. Your body was covered in cuts, scratches, and a patchwork of bruises weaved across every inch of skin. Some were fading, but others were still tender, even under the gentle graze of your fingertips.

Besides that, the time away had aged you considerably. Dark circles hung below your eyes, a shiner healing underneath one of them. No wonder Helmut hadn’t wanted to touch you. This was somehow worse than you’d imagined. Biting back tears, you turned away from your reflection. It seemed shallow to cry about your appearance, considering everything you’d been through, which somehow made you feel even worse. But, steam began to fog up the mirrors and refocused you on the task at hand.

The shower was stocked with all your favorite toiletries, fancy soaps and lotions. Not much had seemed to change. You wished, in some ways, that time had truly frozen while you’d been away. It would make everything now so much easier.

The warm water was intoxicating, soothed your sore body as you basked in the comforts you once took for granted. A built-in bench and detachable showerhead made things easier for you, as you had to pause to take breaks every now and then, catch your breath. Every inch of your body was scrubbed from head to toe. There was dried blood still caked under your fingernails, and it took two shampoos before your hair seemed free of dirt and grease. Up until now, you’d only had sponge-baths, and you were half-expecting the water to turn brown as it flowed to the drain. You weren’t sure how long you spent washing away the last few months of your life, but you didn’t leave until you were practically antiseptic.

Off the bathroom was a closet, although calling it that felt like an understatement -- it was big enough to house a small family. Helmut’s wardrobe took up most of the space. Before him, you’d never been very interested in fashion, and bought your wardrobe off of the sale rack in most stores. Since marrying him, however, you’d amassed quite the collection of expensive clothes, jewelry, and shoes. He was excessive in many ways, but especially in the way that he spoiled you.

Sighing, you started towards your pajama drawer until your eyes fell on a familiar piece of clothing, hanging across from you on Helmut’s side of the closet. Made of silk, a deep indigo color, and custom-made by some designer whose name you couldn’t pronounce was your husband’s favorite robe. He’d been wearing it since before you were married.

Without thinking, you let the towel you’d wrapped around your middle for some modesty fall to the ground as you stepped forward and tugged the robe off it’s hanger. Falling limply in your arms, you didn’t even think twice before you wriggled your way inside of it.

Fastening the tie around your waist, you secured the robe shut. Most of the encounters you’d had with this robe was wrestling your husband out of it so he could have you on the bathroom countertop or bent over your bed. Until that moment, you hadn’t realized how badly you wanted him. It had been ages. You wondered if he’d ever want you again that way, or if things would ever be normal enough to allow it.

With the robe on, you were enveloped by a familiar perfume, an exotic mix of spice and musk, a mixture of cologne, aftershave, and bodywash that Helmut used. And beyond that was the faint smell of tobacco, the cigars he smoked when celebrating. All of it smelled like him, and you closed your eyes, leaning against the wall in a brief moment of comfort.

Already, you were growing tired, this was the most activity you’d had since you’d arrived home and the hot water had been soothing.

On your way back to bed, though, your eyes were drawn to the sunlight filtering through the large windows that looked out over the backyard of the estate. There was an ottoman in front of it, and you sat down, just to look outside. One of the windows was cracked, and you heard the faint sounds of birds chirping, wind rustling the leaves of the trees, the water babbling in the pool. There was a small garden out in the distance you’d planted after moving in, so you could have fresh fruits and vegetables to cook with, and pretty flowers to look at. You were relieved to see that someone had kept it going in your absence, pruning the roses and making sure the tomato plants weren’t overgrown. Everything was still alive and thriving.

Sleep was tugging again at your eyelids, urgently, and making it back to bed seemed too big an undertaking. So you curled up on the ottoman, lifting the collar of Helmut’s robe to your nose. Like a warm embrace, his smell enveloped you, you closed your eyes and hugged yourself, imagining you were wrapped in his arms.

It was unclear how long you’d been sleeping when you woke again. The air filtering through the window had cooled, the bedroom had grown dim. Fingertips carded through the hair at the nape of your neck, and you turned to find their source.

Helmut was looking down at you, a smile playing on his lips. The remaining sunlight that trickled through the window lit up his auburn hair, casting a golden halo behind his head. He looked a little tragic, like he always did these days, but you found some comfort in the short-lived touch. Sitting on the edge of the ottoman with his hips aligned with yours, his other hand held him upright on the opposite side of your waist, boxing you in.

“How are you, my dear?” he asked softly.

“I’m okay,” you answered. “I took a shower.”

“I can see that,” he smirked, and you rolled onto your back so you could see him better, still too loopy from the nap to sit upright. His hand on your neck came to smooth out the collar of his robe. “It looks like you were rooting through my closet as well.”

You felt yourself flush, feeling self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked,” you studied the paint on the ceiling, rather than making eye contact.

“Don’t apologize,” he answered kindly. “It’s very sweet.” There was a glimmer in his eyes, one you hadn’t seen yet since you’d come home.

But it was short-lived. The slight spark faded and the furrow between his brows returned, and he shook his head like he was trying to dust off some unwanted memory. Even the time away didn’t erase how well you knew your husband. Helmut sighed, and turned to look into the scenery outside.

“Look,” he murmured, gesturing towards the window. He helped you right yourself, his hand on your waist. The warmth of his broad palm radiated through the thin fabric, tingling against your skin.

The sun was setting, and the bedroom window gave you a perfect view of the horizon, lit up in brilliant pinks and oranges, the last slice of sunlight glittering behind a hill in the distance, slipping away.

“It’s beautiful,” you mused. You couldn’t remember the last sunset you’d watched from your home, but you surmised it was after splitting a bottle of wine on the back porch with Helmut. “I noticed you had someone look after the garden.”

“I looked after the garden,” Helmut corrected. “I’m impressed,” you turned to look at him, and he was staring back at you. It was unfortunate, as you preferred to admire him when he wasn’t paying attention. “You were always convinced you had a brown thumb.”

That earned a chuckle, and one of his hands rose to rest on the windowsill. “Not anymore. I did my research.” He turned away from you, and you had the chance to be struck again by how handsome he was. There were a few creases around his eyes that seemed deeper than before, a few more grey hairs amongst his stubble, but aging had only made you more attracted to him. “I know how much you loved it. It helped me feel close to you.”

His remark, coupled with every other insecurity that had been running through your mind the past few days, made you misty, and you turned to focus back on the sunset so he wouldn’t notice you getting emotional.

But instead, you felt the warmth of Helmut’s hand on the small of your back. His opposite arm wound around your waist, and he drew himself closer, holding you from behind, molding himself to fit against your stoic form. His lips found your temple briefly before he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Is this okay?” he whispered.

Unable to find words that wouldn’t come out as a choked sob, you nodded. You felt relief, mostly, he was giving you what you needed without being asked for it. You just hoped it wasn’t temporary.

“I haven’t received very clear instructions on what I’m supposed to do,” his voice was low and soft, right in your ear, and he cleared his throat. “Now that you’re home. One doctor tells me to keep my distance, another tells me to never leave your side. I’ve been so worried I’ll make a mistake, and scare you away.”

His lips trailed down your neck, finding a pulse point and pressing there softly, goosebumps rose along your arms. Everything began to click into place.

“Oh, Helmut,” you sighed, partly because of the way he was touching you, and partly because of his words. “You couldn’t scare me away, even if you wanted to.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” he chuckled, you could feel the vibration in his chest, still flush against your back. You felt a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I want you to sleep in our room again,” you stated plainly. “I want you to touch me. I want to be close to you. Can you do that for me?” Then you were pulling away from him slightly, so you could turn and look into his eyes.

“Of course,” he answered, and pressed his lips against your own.

Zemo tag: @juice-1981 @marvelsvision @pattispunk @msmarvelwrites @professorrw

#listen i know that the gif is laszlo #but it really fit the vibe of the story okay???#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo #fluff #tfatws #marvel #mcu #mcu writing #daniel bruhl #husband zemo hours #civil war

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exosmutfactory · 3 years

Text

Six Phases FINALE Pt 2

Originally posted by tipannies

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: Let’s give Riley the ending she deserves 💗

[ contains: smut & fluff~]

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Tonight is a special occasion, one that requires the most lethal of dresses that I own. A dress I always had my eye on yet never dared to take out from the back of my closet. I could never find the right time to wear it—until now. Because tonight, oh tonight… I have a date with Baekhyun.

I pull up the spaghetti straps of my wine colored dress, making sure that the criss-cross stripes of fabric in the front are straight. This dress is definitely too cold for the first week of December, but that's what winter coats are for. For now, I will turn side to side to admire how the bodycon shape fits well with the cutout section exposing my stomach. Party in the front and business in the back.

Straightening the last strand of my hair, I smile when my phone lights up with a notification, knowing full well who it is. His cute usage of emojis visible on the screen tells me all that I need to know. Chuckling to myself, I set down my flatiron and reply to him.

Baekhyun planned a date at his apartment tonight, subtly dropping a hint about what I should wear. Mmhm, this isn't a t-shirt and sweatpants event. Based on the new black blazer in the back of his adorable selfie that he sent me the other day when he asked me out, I got a good idea of what I'm getting myself into.

Humming to myself, I check my reflection one last time and grab my keys before heading out. Let's see which shade of Baekhyun is awaiting me today.

Strutting my way to the elevator in my rose gold heels, I smile at my neighbor when she steps out onto our floor, whistling at my choice of attire. She winks at me as the doors close. Chuckling, I check my phone one last time, typing a quick reply to Sehun with my French tip nails letting him know that I'm okay. We've made a point to catch up with each other at the end of every week, whether face to face or over the phone. Unfortunately, I have plans tonight… and maybe tomorrow too. And the day after that.

Smirking, I repocket my phone and wrap my fluffy coat tighter around me, waving to the security guard while making my way out of the building. The bite of the December air is refreshing for my skin, the heat packed into my coat leaves me slightly too warm otherwise. I look both ways before crossing the parking lot, staying aware of my surroundings. The last thing I need is any drama from a careless driver or lurking thief in the streets. These heels are too expensive to break off into someone's ass for making me late.

My car unlocks with a familiar chirp, its headlights coming on while I walk around to the driver's side. Taking one last glance at the world around me and my back seat, I climb inside and set my purse down on the passenger's side. My phone vibrates just as I start the engine, buzzing faintly against the soft R&B CD playing on my radio. With a small smile, I check my rearview mirror and pull out onto the road.

I hum along to the first track, wondering if a UN Village actually exists while navigating to Baekhyun's apartment. The Christmas lights set up on the light poles in advance bring another smile to my face. Something about this time of year always sits right with me.

Before I know it, I'm pulling into a parking space at his apartment complex, waiting for the powerful vocals of the 6th song on the album to fade away. Sighing a little, I lean back in my seat, sweeping my eyes over the parking lot as the windows start to fog up. Who would have thought that I'd be back here nearly a year later? With warmth in my heart and a certain silver haired, idiotic yet adorable man on my mind.

"I love you," I mumble shyly, holding eye contact despite my heated cheeks and racing heart.

His whole face lights up with his smile, sparkly brown eyes outshining all the stars in the sky as he cups my cheeks in his warm palms. "I love you more."

Stepping out of my car, I pick up my purse and head inside, sharing a knowing look with the familiar security guard on my way to the elevators. It feels so good to be back, the year-long bad memories vanishing with every step I take. To my home—to my heart. The man my heart calls out for like a rescued fish returning to sea.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach when I arrive on his floor, taking my time to walk down the brightly lit hallway. I wonder what is in store for me tonight. After all, when it comes to Baekhyun, anything can be awaiting me on the other side of that door. Possibilities are endless.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on the door, smiling softly when it opens seconds later only for my jaw to drop to the floor.

Baekhyun... with his silver hair parted to the side, wearing fucking brown eyeshadow. That new black blazer of his has buttons on the ends of the sleeves, sitting perfectly on his broad shoulders. But the real sight to behold is lower down on his body, starting from his half-buttoned black shirt showing his honey-toned chest. That view alone could send a woman into a coma, but then he had to tuck his shirt into a pair of snug leather pants. The belt around his hips shows off the curves of his waist and those damn black heeled boots are back again.

I don't even care that he can see me practically drooling—I already know what's on my menu for tonight.

"Hey," He smiles charmingly, taking my breath away.

I take a moment to compose myself, peeking at him from under my eyelashes with a smile of my own. "Hi, B."

His eyes and smile soften. "Come in, it's cold out." He steps aside to let me in, closing the door behind me.

Humming softly, I relish in his alluring cinnamon scent. "Not really," I mumble distractedly, thinking of how much warmer I feel at the sight of him while he helps me take off my coat. The way his breath hitches has a smirk quirking at my red painted lips. "What are we having tonight?" I inquire, glancing over my shoulder at him.

Baekhyun's eyes immediately shoot up to mine. "D-Dinner," He coughs, trying to cover up his flushed face behind his hand.

"Oooo," I walk further into the apartment, following the spicy aroma of food and making my way to the kitchen. "Okay. What did you order in?"

"Actually," Baekhyun's citrus shampoo floats in the air when I reach the doorway, staring at the set table with wide eyes. "I made it myself," He mumbles shyly, the cool plastic of the flower pinned to his blazer brushing against my back.

"Holy shit…" It's a fucking feast. Fresh salad, crunchy garlic bread, and the most appetizing platter of spaghetti that I've ever seen in my life. Not only that, the single-lit candle in the middle of the table has my heart and below squeezing in earnest. This cheeky little hopeless romantic.

"The meat is turkey-based," Baekhyun perks up after a few moments, walking around to place used pots and pans in the sink. Busying his fidgety hands with moving everything off of the counter. "I bought hot sauce but didn't put much because I didn't know if you'd like it spicy or not."

Walking further into the room, I rest my hand on the back of a chair, watching him with a lick of my lips.

Baekhyun continues occupying himself with everything in the kitchen, not even noticing when I slowly approach him. "The toast is on the softer side and I have some sweet tomatoes in the fridge-"

Fuck it.

I grab him by his jacket when he turns around, tugging on him so hard that a few buttons pop off and scatter around on the floor.

Baekhyun gasps, stumbling a little before bracing his hands on the surface behind me, the dishes on the dining table rattling under our joined weight. "Riley-"

I smash my lips to his, kissing him with fervor, backing him up until his back presses against the counter. I'm relentless with tugging and biting down on his bottom lip, capturing it between my teeth. He moans right into my mouth when I part his lips, sucking hard on his tongue.

The audible smack of our messy kiss echoes around the walls of his apartment, steadily building up tension in my stomach and the ache between my legs. Baekhyun softly huffs and puffs for air after a few minutes, pulling back to catch his breath with rosy, lipstick-smeared lips. "D-Dinner-"

"I'd rather eat something else," I utter lowly, rubbing my hand down his chest. My eyes flicker back up to his wide orbs just in time to catch him gulping, his warm brown eyes darkening significantly.

He looks at me for a long moment, hesitation vivid in his body language. I step closer, cupping his cheek before pressing my lips to his, gently coaxing his soft lips to dance with mine. Baekhyun takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around me, the caress of his hands over my exposed skin leaving goosebumps in their wake.

This, I muse, shivering in delight when my body is fully pressed against his, is what has been missing.

He grows more daring the longer our lips lock, his warm hands sliding up the back of my thighs and venturing under my dress, bunching up the fabric. His fingertips teasingly slipping between my thighs has my pussy quivering, my own palms tugging on his tucked in shirt to feel more of his skin. Baekhyun grips my ass before spinning us around, hoisting me up onto the counter while I tangle my hand in his hair, my lips still glued to his. I moan when his fingers land on my clothed core, welcoming him between my parted legs.

"You're so wet," He breathes, a look of awe on his face. Sweat is already dripping down from the edges of his hairline, casting his skin in a dewy glow under the dancing candle lights.

"I'm not the only one," I murmur, tapping the back of my fingers on the bulge in his snug pants.

Baekhyun groans, pulling me into another kiss, making me gasp when he tugs me closer to the edge of the counter, his hardon right against my heated core. I shiver, wanting to widen my legs and close them at the same time when he rolls his hips, the thin fabric of my lace thong doing nothing to conceal his erection from my throbbing clit.

Our loud moans and sloppy kisses fill the air, the temperature rising in the room with every roll of his talented hips. I tighten my grip on his hair, gritting my teeth to hold back the tension building between my legs. 11 months has been way too long for me to not be intimate with someone like this, but looking up at Baekhyun's already fucked out face, I wouldn't have it any other way.

With shaky hands and quivering legs, I reach down to undo Baekhyun's belt, flinging it out of my way before pulling his zipper down. My hand slips a few times when he moves my thong to the side, sliding his middle finger into my greedy core.

"Ah…" I pant, tilting my head back as he trails searing kisses down my neck. "Fuck." The feeling of him inside of me after so long has me squeezing my thighs around his waist, fighting the wave threatening to fall over me when he finds my sweet spot immediately.

"So good for me," He murmurs, sucking my earlobe between his teeth. He slips in another finger when I finally pull his cock out of his boxers, swirling my fingers around his tip and stroking him in my firm grip. We speed up as we pant into each other's mouths, too turned on and drowned in pleasure to keep up with our kiss.

"Fuck, baby." He pulls back, cheeks flushed a pretty red hue, "C-condom-"

"No time for that." I shake my head, digging my heels into his lower back only to pause, narrowing my eyes at him. "Unless-"

He shut me up with a kiss this time. "No." He murmurs, meeting my eyes, his firm grip tightening on my hips. "No one else but you."

I am surprised by his answer, but I just nod, letting him continue. I might not be able to read Baekhyun like a book as he says I do, but I know he doesn't fuck around when it comes to his health. Let alone when it concerns the pretty, thick dick he has. Brushing his hair away to look into his eyes, I part my lips only for my breath to hitch, blushing at the feeling of him aligning his cock with my entrance.

"May I?" He murmurs, resting his forehead on mine.

The annoying throb between my legs has me clenching my teeth. "If you don't-" I gasp, clutching onto his shoulders as he slides in to the hilt. The burn of him inside me after so long is more than I expected.

Baekhyun pauses to let me adjust, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips that just makes me spasm around him. A gasp escapes him in turn, his slender fingers digging into the soft swell of my hips. "Easy, baby." He strains, voice deepened in lust.

"Easy for you to say," I grumble through gritted teeth, my back arching when he circles his hips. He presses flush against my goosebump-covered skin, giving me warmth as he starts up a comfortable rhythm, spreading my legs as far as the counter will allow. I can't help but gulp, leaning back against my braced palms. Just the view of his stunning body fully dressed beside his unzipped leather pants is messing with my head, let alone his cock pressing every spot within my walls that drives me insane.

Baekhyun pulls out, and before I can say anything, I hear his knees hitting the floor. Silver locks of hairbrush against my inner thighs moments before warm, wet sensation brushes against my clit.

"Mmm," He moans, tightening his grip on my thighs when I jolt. He pulls me even closer to the edge of the counter, placing my legs over his shoulders, "Come here."

All I can manage to do is tangle my fingers in his luscious locks. Hopefully they are strong enough to sustain my knee-jerking tugs when he drags his lips over my core, sticking his tongue into my hole and taking my folds between his lips. Baekhyun is just… gentle, slurping and smacking his lips against my throbbing core without a care. He's taking his time down there as if he has all the time in the world. I feel bad for my arousal dripping onto the counter and all over his chin—it's embarrassing, but it's never been this… this good.

"So sweet," He murmurs, sliding his warm palms up my waist.

Trying my best not to succumb to the coil in my stomach, I risk a glance down at him. The sight of his tongue poking out from between his coated lips to caress my swollen nub in the gentlest of ways has me tensing up—even more so when his brown eyes flicker up to meet mine.

"Baekhyun." I pant, tugging harder on his hair.

"Come on," He breathes, gripping my hips when I start to tremble.

"B-Baekhyun." It takes everything in me to hold on, bracing myself against the counter. "I want you inside…" I throw my head back when he slips a finger inside, quickly followed by another.

"Give it to me." He demands, so softly in an airy tone, his breath hitching at a particularly hard tug on his roots. He's damn near pleading for it and it's driving me crazy. "Come all over my face, baby."

Yeah, there's no winning this fight. With his lewd words and soft lips wrapping tight around my clit, rolling it around inside of his mouth with his tongue, that's it. Game over. How I managed this long without falling over the edge by the works of his mouth is a mystery within itself.

Baekhyun doesn't stop humming and massaging my clit with his lips until I softly push his head away, closing my shaking legs. He stands back up, sliding his hands up my thighs and leaning in for a kiss. It's different from the others we've shared tonight, filled with a certain hint of gentleness and love that matches the yearning and adoration in his sparkly brown eyes.

"Fuck, Riley." Baekhyun pulls back, cock twitching in my hand when I rotate my wrist. He cards a hand through his hair, chuckling in disbelief. "You are driving me crazy."

"Yeah?" I drawl, wrapping my thighs around his waist. "Come show me crazy."

"I'm not gonna last…" He admits, looking worried.

"How long do you plan on loving me, Byun Baekhyun?" I demand, tucking my index finger under his chin for him to face me.

Baekhyun's eyes dance like shimmering orbs of light. "Until my last dying breath."

"Well," I breathe, butterflies fluttering my stomach when his words settle in. "I'm sure we can fit in plenty of rounds until then."

The sweetest smile forms on his handsome face before his brows knit together, biting his bottom lip when I pull him back inside, digging my heels into his back.

"Don't hold back," I whisper into his ear, brushing my lips over his neck. Baekhyun takes a shaky breath, pulling away until only his tip is in my sensitive core. The bruising grip he has on my hips is the only warning I get before he plunges back inside.

Baekhyun doesn't hold back in the slightest. He sets a fast, near brutal pace, lifting my hips to slam inside of me at an angle that has me screaming his name, clinging onto his clothed shoulders for dear life.

"Fuck, baby." He groans, his steady rhythm taking on sloppy, shallow thrusts. The squelch of our joined bodies stirs up an unexpected heat in me. "I'm gonna-"

"Yeah," I breathe, locking my legs around the back of his trembling thighs. My heart and pussy clench in earnest at the expression on his face.

Baekhyun pants, sweat dripping down his forehead and falling off of his jaw. The flap of his jacket exposing his chest with his shaky movements. "Can I-"

I lick the salty sweat from his heated skin, sucking harshly where his collarbone meets his gorgeous neck. "Inside me, B."

He groans the loudest one of the night, hiding his face in my neck as he pounds into me. His cum spills deep inside, hot and messy. The warmth of it triggers my own release. I have to bite down on his shoulder to contain the uncontrollably loud moan that's ripped from my throat with his final gentle thrusts.

Baekhyun slows down to a stop, his chest flushed to mine while we try to regain our breath. The smell of sweat and sex permeating the air has me giggling breathlessly, running my fingers through his damp hair.

"Fuck—baby," He mutters, hurrying to pull out. "Your dress."

"It's-" I moan, biting my lip when he slides his fingers back in.

"Where's a towel," He frantically looks around, the most comically concerned expression on his handsome, dewy face. "There it is! Ah, it's too far away... I'm sorry, baby-" He stops when I wrap my hand around his wrist, slipping his cum covered fingers between my lips.

"Take it off of me," I whisper, staring right into his dilated eyes.

"You'll be cold," He murmurs, looking between my eyes and my mouth sucking on his fingertips.

"Then warm me up," I purr, wrapping my thighs back around his waist.

Baekhyun's jaw drops, his cock already stirring against me. I reach down to take him into my hand, rubbing my fingers around his tip. "You'll be the death of me." He groans, tangling his hand in my hair and pulling me into a searing kiss.

Hours later, we're curled up in bed. My head on his pillow with his hands in my hair.

"W-Will you stay the night?" Baekhyun whispers, brown eyes no longer showing signs of tiredness.

I smile, completely in love with this new side of him. Baekhyun, in all that he is, is the most beautiful man in the world. "Of course, baby," I murmur, tracing random shapes on his honey skin.

He perks up with the most beautiful smile growing on his face, gently pulling me closer until my head rests on his chest, his fast-beating heart a dead giveaway to how happy he is. I kiss over his heart, looking up into his shimmering brown pools of love. Is he...? Gently swiping my finger under his eye has a tear falling down his cheek. And another. And another…

"You mean everything to me," He breathes, arms and legs tangled so much with mine I don't know where he ends and I begin.

I smile, falling asleep to the beat of his steady heart and the security of his warm arms. "You mean the world to me."

•••

Time goes by so fast when you're happy and in love, turning even your hardest days into nights that you want to remember. Just having that person you love the most by your side, through thick and thin, for better or for worse, makes all the difference in the world.

—The only downside is how agonizing time passes when you are apart.

I pop my bubble gum with my chin resting in my palm, humming and tapping my pen on my desk. After catching up on a day's worth of paperwork, (blame my procrastination… and spending the weekend at Baekhyun's,) I'm bored, impatiently waiting for noon. There's only one way to fix this mood before I'm in a slump for the rest of the day, and looking at the home screen of my phone, I plan to arrange that very soon.

As soon as 12:00 pops up on the clock, I tap the first number on my speed dial, pressing my ringing phone to my ear.

"Hello?" His honey-smooth voice flutters over the line.

"Baekhyun." I apply a fresh layer of lip gloss to my lips, tucking away my hair to make sure my diamond earrings don't get tangled. "Are you free for lunch?"

"Yeah." He mumbles distractedly, shuffling papers filter through the call before a door shuts.

"Come over." I demand, hanging up. Pushing back from my desk, I walk over to my vanity table, straightening out my black lace, sleeveless bra from under my robe. It's mid-Spring again, already hot enough to wake me up in the middle of the night when I don't sleep with my fan on. The perfect excuse for what I have planned for my "week off" of work. I don't care how many business meetings I have to host from the comfort of my own home.

The doorbell rings just as I'm smoothing down my hair, checking my reflection one last time in the mirror. I make my way out of my bedroom and into the living room, pulling the door open with haste.

Baekhyun stands on the other side with wide, frantic eyes, dressed impeccably in a black suit with his slicked back silver hair the slightest bit ruffled. "Riley, what-"

I yank him inside, crashing my lips to his, pressing his body to the door before it slams shut. His scent surrounds me in seconds, vanilla-scented clothes with traces of smoke. The rich citrus of his soft hair and the hint of musk on his skin from a long day of work. My hands are undoing his tucked in shirt before he can get a word in.

"Riley." He grunts, holding me close as I trail messy kisses down his gorgeous neck. I walk backwards to the couch, toppling onto it with him following me.

"How long before your next meeting?" I murmur, pulling him closer by his tie.

Baekhyun visibly gulps, brown eyes darkening significantly before they flicker back up to mine. "They'll survive." He chuckles, licking his lips, leaning in for another frenzied kiss.

Yeah, Baekhyun wasn't kidding about him being a workaholic—which I already knew, but damn if it isn't annoying sometimes. He's more busy stressing over the new designs for his clothing line than helping me plan his 27th birthday party. All my subtle questions to find out what he would want have been futile. It's just been him typing on that damn computer of his for hours.

I go around spraying the plants in his office, talking sweetly to each of them to make sure they get enough Co2. Their droopy leaves need some perking up with the sheer amount of gloom coming off of Baekhyun's furiously typing form.

He abruptly stops, sighing loudly for the 100th time today. "I should give up."

"Nooo," I pout, walking behind his chair to wrap my arms around his neck, taking a small peek at the rough sketches on his computer. " Keep going, don't give up now."

Baekhyun smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. "What do you know about that, hmm?"

"A bit." I smile softly, lightly resting my head on his. "Things may seem shaky now. Just out of reach. No longer within your control." Twirling his hair around my finger, I smile to myself. "But that's okay, it means you are being challenged. And a challenge conquered to the best of your abilities will do you a lot of good." I close my eyes, basking in his presence and comforting scent. "So keep going, you'll never know what you are capable of until you reach the end."

My eyes snap open when Baekhyun suddenly spins around, staring up at me with wide, teary brown eyes. "B-" I wheeze, not expecting him to pull me into his arms, hugging me like a lifeline. "Baekhyun…?" I try again, growing alarmed when his tears wet the front of my shirt.

He only holds me tighter in response, his chest silently heaving against mine. I slowly wrap my arms around him and gently tangle my fingers in his hair, pressing a kiss to his ear.

He's adorable, in every way, shape, and form. Ugh, I'm going to end up in a love-induced coma one day with the way my heartbeat always skips when I'm around him. No matter if I'm meeting him for lunch or if he comes to work across from me at my desk when I'm chasing deadlines, I wouldn't change a thing for the world.

—Except maybe his sense of timing things.

I startle awake, clutching my racing heart with unsteady breathing. The details of my nightmare slowly fade away, but it does little to calm me down. Feeling a sense of urgency, I clumsily search around for my phone. I'll text Baekhyun; I need to make sure he is okay.

My eyes squint at the bright screen of my phone, not expecting to check it in the middle of the night, let alone the notification I find there.

Baekhyunee💘💕🥺💓😘

Thursday, 2:34 am

Riley

Hlep

I nee d u

I fly out of bed like a bat out of hell, rushing over to his apartment, nearly hitting three pedestrians on the way. Parking hazardly in the first empty parking spot I find before jumping out and all but running to the fourth floor. I pound on his door loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood until he opens up, revealing bloodshot eyes and a can of beer in his hand.

"Baekhyun, what's wrong?" I pant, resting my hands on my knees and frantically looking him over. He mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. "What?" I demand, trying to catch my breath.

"I-I just..." He mumbles sluggishly, slouching his shoulders with sadness in his puppy eyes. "I just miss you."

My frantic heart softens. "Get inside and sit down." I demand, pressing a kiss to his cheek before closing the door.

I love this man so fucking much. Even if he annoyingly wakes me up sometimes at 2 to 3 am, I'd run over to his place with my baggy pants and sleeping cap in a heartbeat.

•••

June rolls back around before I know it. This time, however, I plan to decline Jongin's offer to participate in the dance competition again. But to my uttermost surprise, he'll be taking Kyungsoo instead. For tap dancing.

???

Just how multi-talented is Baekhyun's group of friends? Spare me some of that energy, please?

Speaking of friends, Chanyeol's tall figure invited us over to his house today, the mansion that he used to share with Baekhyun and Jongdae.

—I have a grudge against him right now though because he literally called Baekhyun in the middle of the night to challenge him to some video game duel. The comical way his face changed when he saw me glaring at him from the corner of their video call though. By the end of their conversation, an invite was extended to me and Sehun too. It's "best friends" night, and boy do I have a lesson for Park Chanyeol. Lesson one: never underestimate a woman on a mission. In work, life, or on the playing field.

"Damn, man," I mumble, looking wide eyed at the huge flat screen TV and various game consoles around the room. "Leave you alone with the mansion for 2 years and you stocked up your mancave to the finest degree."

Chanyeol flicks a few buttons on the wall next to the door that dims the lights, letting the bright TV and a few arcade games illuminate the room. Baekhyun's eyes twinkle brighter than anything else in the spacious room. He goes over to chat with Chanyeol while I stand in the doorway with Sehun.

"Hey," I whisper, nudging him. "Remember when you used to stream your games back in the day? And the pink hair?"

"Oh yeah." Sehun chuckles while I notice Chanyeol perk up out of the corner of my eye. "I had a setup similar to this back at home." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, taking another look around. "Less impressive though," He mutters, crinkling his nose.

Chanyeol quickly walks over. "Number one victory royale?" He asks, eyes wide. "King of the south-bound?"

"Moisty mire extraordinaire...?" Sehun inquires, eyes widening as well.

Chanyeol stares him down for a long, hard minute, and then raises his hand. "Truce?"

Sehun smirks, gripping Chanyeol's hand firmly in his. "Truce."

I blink, more than confused. Baekhyun catches my eye and just winks.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

I'm having a huge dilemma—no, a midlife crisis. All hell is about to break loose and I'll be in the center of it.

Baekhyun asked me out on a date—I know, I know, listen!

He asked me out on a date… with barely any hints on what to wear.

He didn't say, "wear whatever you want," when I called him earlier. He told me to, "wear something nice."

Nice?! Nice. That's all I got while he remained tight-lipped about his own outfit. At least give me a color, man!!!

So, here I am, swiping clothes left and right in my closet like a madwoman until my eyes land on the perfect dress. One of sheer beauty and elegance.

A white, off the shoulder, hollowed out strapless mini dress with floral patterns from start to finish. The sleeves are made completely out of lace, the ends resting beautifully on the back of my hand. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, keeping my makeup light, only focused on enhancing my features. My phone buzzes just as I recap my eyeliner.

Your chariot awaits.

Giggling, I quickly type up a reply, tucking my phone into my clutch while wondering what this 'chariot' could be. Baekhyun sure does fancy using these cheesy words lately it seems.

Strutting down to the parking lot as gracefully as this dress will allow, I feel thankful for the warm summer night air. Bugs and I, when I'm wearing a dress like this, I need all the warmth I can get.

A blue jeep pulls up and honks at me, confusing me for a second because it isn't Baekhyun's Audi until they roll the passenger window down, revealing Jongdae's ever-bored face.

I blink a few times. "...What kind of low budget uber is this?"

"Yah!" Chanyeol loudly protests, barely overpowering Jongdae's rambunctious laughter. He glares at the brunet clutching his stomach.

"Hop in, Cinderella." Jongdae chuckles as the car doors unlock.

I carefully climb into the back seat, readjusting the hem of my dress.

"Someone got all dolled up tonight." Jongdae grins, shooting a teasing look back at me.

"Ubers don't talk much, Dae." I point out, watching the city lights fly by while Chanyeol pulls off and navigates us down barely familiar roadways. "Where are we going?"

Chanyeol meets my eye in the rearview mirror. "Where do you think?"

"If I didn't have your mother's number on my speed dial I'd call the police, Park," I grumble, resting my elbow on the car door and my chin in my palm. Jongdae's laughter quirks a smile on my lips while Chanyeol continues driving with furrowed brows and a grumpy frown on his face.

After a while of speeding cars and the radio quietly playing, a certain blue building catches my eye. "Where are we?" I perk up, my eyes widening at a sign in the distance. "Is this...?"

"UN Village," Jongdae supplies.

"Step on the gas, Yeol."

"I-I'm not sure you want to do that, Riley." Jongdae tries to diffuse the situation, his weary features flickering over to the competitive expression forming on Chanyeol's face. "You could get motion sickness and-"

"I thought you were the fastest on the road, Yeol," I fake pout, subtly making sure my seatbelt is secure. "I guess I was wrong."

"Oh yeah?" The tall oaf counters, bursting for a challenge at this point.

"Riley," Jongdae tries again when Chanyeol sits up straighter, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "Don't-"

I curl my lips up into a shameless, cheshire cat grin. "Betcha."

My back thuds against the seat when he accelerates. Chanyeol weaves in and out between other vehicles on the road like no one's business. Thankfully the traffic is light tonight and we are taking a lot of unpopular backroads. Heaven knows what would happen if he did this in the heart of Seoul.

Jongdae holds onto the passenger car door and the back of Chanyeol's seat for dear life, the reflection of him in the mirror looking a little green against the bright city lights. By the time Chanyeol slows to a stop, he's leaning his arm across the dashboard, tucking his head between his knees.

"Never," He croaks out, gasping for air. "Again."

Chanyeol's triumphant smirk has me holding back a giggle. I direct my eyes out the window to avoid Jongdae's disgruntled glare.

"Ha! You call that fast?" I grin, hopping out of the car on wobbly legs. "My Grandma can drive better than that."

"Riley," Jongdae pipes up weakly, holding his stomach while Chanyeol's nostrils flare, big brown eyes ablazed. "Don't encourage him, he isn't your ride home."

I begin to rebuke, but pause, noticing an odd building in the distance. "What the…" It's a giant white structure with a curved entrance, another one of those intricate places that the Hannam-dong architects must have loved to build here. "What kind of building is that?"

"Keep walking," Chanyeol nods, gesturing to the long walkway between the tall walls. "You'll see."

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, making me nervous for a moment, but the good gut feeling I get from looking between both their expressive eyes encourages me to move forward. "Thanks for the ride, Yeol," I say softly, patting his jeep before taking a few steps back. Smirking mischievously over at Jongdae. "Sorry for making you lose your lunch, Dae."

He waves me off with a fake annoyed expression, not able to hide the curl of his little smile.

I spin around on my heels, walking through the entrance between the two curved walls. The clicks of my heels on the pavement is the only sound I hear. Following the uneven path, I crinkle my nose, wondering what the hell Baekhyun is up to this time. Got me out here walking down curved pathways in the dark.

Well, apparently the building curls all the way around to a see-through door in the middle, but that isn't what makes me stop in my tracks. It's that flash of familiar silver hair.

Baekhyun leans against the wall with his silver hair parted in the middle, twinkling under the bright lights. Wearing a white blazer, a white t-shirt and silver leather pants. The metal of his belt catches the light along with the rings on his fingers and accessory necklaces adorning his neck.

I snap my jaw shut, making my way over to him. "Baekhyun…"

He smiles warmly, little strands of hair dangling in his eyes in the most handsome way. "Hey."

"Hi," I whisper. "You look…" Eyeing him from head to toe—to those damn sexy heeled boots, I'm at a loss for words. "Wow."

Baekhyun chuckles, moving off of the wall to walk closer to me, taking me by the hand. "You look beautiful as well," He murmurs, kissing every knuckle on the back of my hand.

I feel my face heat up all the way up to my ears. I've only been out here with him for 5 minutes and I'm already about to faint from the softness blooming in my frantic heart. "What are we doing tonight?" I ask softly, not sure if I want to keep gazing into his sparkly brown eyes or look away from the butterfly-inducing adoration written all over his face.

"It's a surprise," Baekhyun supplies, chuckling at the impatient expression on my face. He brings my hand to his cheek, staring deeply into my eyes. "Walk with me?"

My heart goes into overdrive. With that look on your face? I couldn't deny you if I tried.

I nod and let him take the lead, resting my head on his shoulder. There's something about being with him at night like this. Something unexplainable and magical in the air. The soft fabric of his blazer brushing against my cheek and the light July wind blowing through his hair. He's so warm and smells so good I have to bite my tongue not to drag him back to my apartment just to curl up next to him on the couch.

Something tells me that tonight will be a special one, but really, if it's with Baekhyun, anywhere and everywhere, I'll love it either way.

I notice something out of the corner of my eye when we step out onto a sidewalk, briefly lifting my head from Baekhyun's shoulder. "Dokseodang Children's Park?" I mumble curiously.

Baekhyun hums. "This is my favorite place." His eyes sweep over the slightly aged equipment, resting a hand on my back.

Humming myself, I start to reply only for my eyes to dart over at the dirt road ahead.

Baekhyun immediately takes notice, coming to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk. "What is it, hmm?"

I look up at the annoyingly buzzing light pole. "That flickering light-"

Baekhyun snaps his fingers, and the whole world goes black for a moment, then a dozen lights twinkle in the darkness. Fireflies lighting up the night under the shine of the full moon.

"Come on." His honey-smooth voice rings, softly squeezing my hand before leading the way. I rest my other hand on his arm and watch my every step, realizing we are climbing a hill with the deep slope brushing against the front of my heels. Grass crunches under our footsteps, crickets sing their late night songs of cheer, and then I see a peek of something bright as we near the top of the hill. I gasp, nearly tripping in my haste to get a closer look, my heartbeat skyrocketing when we reach the edge of the steep hill.

A stunning table seated for two sits in the middle of the plateau, with a cooler holding an unopened bottle of champagne. Dome-covered plates are set on the white table cloth and a few candles are lit on the table. Vanilla fragrance flutters in the gentle wind as I take in the dozens of lanterns hung up in the tree above. Brightening up the area surrounded by miles upon miles of other rolling hills without outshining the moon. I even spot the UN Village sign at the other side of the park; you can see everything from up here.

"Baekhyun…"

He smiles so brightly when I look at him. "Yes, my love?"

You mesmerizing little hopeless romantic. I can only press a kiss to his soft cheek, hugging him.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," I mumble into the safety of his shoulder.

He rests his head on mine, hugging me to his chest. "Then why are you hiding, hmm?"

"I love it so much," I mutter, fully content to stay here for a few more minutes. "It's so pretty I have tears in my eyes. I can't believe you."

Baekhyun chuckles, rubbing my back so soothingly it takes all my strength to not melt further against him. The heavenly scent of vanilla once again meets my nose; we have a date waiting for us.

Slowly pulling away, I look into his sparkly brown eyes, smiling shyly before making my way over to the table. He's a step ahead of me in an instant, pulling out a chair for me while I giggle, hiding my adoring smile and red face behind my hand. God, my heart is racing so hard I swear it's threatening to jump out and run to him.

I give him a grateful smile, my skin buzzing under the familiarity of his gentle touch when he pushes me in, his citrus and cinnamon scent perfectly blending with the vanilla while he walks to take his own seat across from me.

Baekhyun sighs softly, tilting his head with a nearly playful smile. "Ready?"

Grinning a little, I tilt my head to the opposite side, relishing in the twinkles of amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He chuckles. "On three?"

I nod, gripping the handle on the top of the dome cover with another smile.

"One," He leans closer to his dome, mischief swirling in his brown eyes. "Two."

More than amused, I play along, butterflies fluttering in my stomach under his beaming smile.

"Three!"

I lift up the dome, setting it aside while taking in the food neatly arranged on the plate. It's a Korean cuisine that I haven't seen before, full of delectable vegetables and tender meat. Watching Baekhyun take his first bite has my mouth watering for two reasons. I carefully cut a slice of beef, closing my eyes when it melts on my tongue. Holy shit, who is the chef behind this? That person needs a raise.

"Kyungsoo made it," Baekhyun smiles, chuckling when I hum at my next bite. "I have to help him out next week though," He frowns, nearly pouting. "He doesn't like doing things last minute."

Recalling the whole ordeal for Jenny's birthday, I can't help but laugh. "I know," I smile, resting my chin in my palm.

Baekhyun smiles, his nose scrunching adorable while cutting another piece of meat.

Conversation flows naturally between us, as always. Baekhyun is just like that, an easy person to talk to, but it's much different than before. He hums a lot, resting his chin on his palm while gazing at me with adoring and attentive eyes, the tiniest of loving smiles on his face. If I wasn't wearing this expensive white dress, I'd lean over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

However, the mood changes slightly when we are nearly done. He keeps tapping his fingers on the table and his foot against the leg of his chair, clearing his throat with a worried expression on his face.

"Bae?" I call softly, tilting my head at his lack of response. Tired of the constant clink of his leather boot against the wooden chair, I nudge my foot against his. "Are you alright?"

He blinks, sitting up straight at once. "Yes, love." He clears his throat again, smiling shyly. "Wanna dance with me?"

"Dance?" I look around at the grassy nature and chirping wildlife, meeting his eyes again. "There isn't any music here, B."

He shakes his head, standing up. "Yes there is."

"I-" I go quiet when he takes my hand, resting it over his beating heart. Looking up into his imploring brown eyes, I start to understand. I nod, slowly standing up as well, following him over to the empty side of the hill.

Baekhyun lifts up our joined hands, interlocking our fingers together and resting his other one on the small of my back. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, gazing deeply into his brown pools of warmth. He makes the first move, slowly stepping forward while I take a step back. The crickets chirp louder with every movement we make, growing more confident by the minute.

Melting at the way his heart beats against mine, I look up at the stars, millions and billions of twinkling lights filling up the night sky. Meeting Baekhyun's gaze again, however, reminds me that not all the stars and planets combined can outshine the sparkling light in his warm brown eyes. He smiles softly as if hearing my thoughts, squeezing my hand before spinning me around, welcoming me right back into his loving arms.

I could spend forever like this, staring into his eyes and listening to his beating heart. Just the two of us while the rest of the world fades away, nothing but background noise to our undying love.

"Look," Baekhyun perks up, looking up at the stars. My eyes flicker up, widening at the shooting star streaking across the night sky. "Make a wish," He murmurs warmly, taking a step back.

Feeling a sense of hope and childlike urgency, I whip around to face the star head on. What should I wish for? The star is reaching the edge of the sky! Sensing Baekhyun's comforting figure behind me, I have all the answers I need.

I wish… Closing my eyes, I clasp my hands together, finding strength in the soft summer breeze. For a love like this, for all of eternity. The last few streaks of the star fade away when I open my eyes, smiling softly until I remember where I am and a certain someone who is with me. Where is Baekhyun? Stiffening up, I quickly spin around in alarm, slapping my hands over my mouth at the sight.

Baekhyun: on one knee, holding up a small jewelry box with shaky hands and vulnerable. "Why do you look so scared?" He breaks the ice, chuckling nervously.

"I thought you left," I blurt, snapping my mouth shut.

He laughs fully this time. "No." He shakes his head, smiling up at me with the sweetest of smiles. "I'm right here."

I take a deep breath, nodding slowly.

"I love you," He declares warmly, keeping his eyes steady on mine. "I love the way my name falls from your lips, the soft swell of your hips, the love in your fingertips." He smiles. "How your doe eyes go wide when you're surprised. The way you curl up next to me in your sleep when I'm working at night." A little grin forms on his face. "The shy expression you get when you ask if I want the rest of your food and that little song you always sing nonstop around the house when you're happy."

I cover my face in embarrassment, peeking at him from between my fingers.

Baekhyun chuckles, continuing, "I love the little notes you leave when you make me lunch. The way you squeak when I kiss right here." He taps the back of his right ear. "Your beautiful mind and all the mischief that comes with it..." He laughs a little. "The way you nag me when I don't dry my hair and yet always end up doing it for me anyway."

"Your sarcasm and loving touch," He murmurs, sparkles dancing bright in his eyes. "The dimples you try to hide when you smile." He cracks another grin. "Your quirky mismatched socks and way of talking." He laughs warmly when I groan, rethinking all my life choices. "How red your face gets when I compliment you." He hums. "Your loud, high pitched, raspy laugh that I know you hate but I simply adore."

"Oh my god," I cover my eyes, knowing how right he is and how hot my face feels right now.

"How sexy your accent is and how sassy you get when you're angry," He murmurs humorously, giving me a knowing look. "That high horse you climb on when you don't want to admit you are wrong that leaves me frustrated and amused at the same time." He chuckles, sighing softly, his voice taking on a gentler tone. "The look on your face when you cry that makes me want to hold you and hide you away from the world."

My heart squeezes as tears spring to my eyes. I sniffle softly, fanning my face while meeting his loving eyes.

"I love everything about you." He takes a shaky breath. "Not a day goes by where I'm not grateful for you coming into my life."

He looks down for a moment, blinking rapidly before flicking his hair out of his eyes. "I know I'm not much," He mumbles. "I-I know I've done so much shit in the past that you have every right to walk out on me for. I know that you deserve way better than me." He swallows thickly, lips trembling before he presses them into a thin line. "Even with all of this, I have some promises I want to make."

Baekhyun raises his head, reaching to take my hand in his. "I promise not to run away. I promise to communicate. I promise to stay by your side through every blessing and hardship you go through." My heart pounds at the determination in his words and sincerity in his shimmering eyes. "I may not be the perfect man for you." A hint of remorse sparks briefly in his brown eyes. "But I promise to love you with all that I have—with all that I am," He pauses, holding my hand securely in his. "Until my last dying breath… If I break any of these promises you have permission to kick me where the sun doesn't shine." He mumbles in a jokingly grumpy tone, smiling when I giggle.

"I promise to love you until the end of time." His voice starts to wobble, hands shaking while looking deep into my eyes. "Please," He opens the box, revealing a sparkly, rose gold ring with matching gems lining the sides. "Marry me, and be mine."

"Yes." I choke out, tears streaming down my face when I bend down to cup his tear-streaked cheeks in my hands. "Yes. Yes! A million times yes."

Baekhyun stands up, slipping the ring onto my ring finger with uttermost care. As soon as he's done, he pulls me close, sealing my lips in a searing kiss that I gladly let take my breath away.

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

"Unzip me?" I ask, peeking up at him from under my eyelashes.

Baekhyun hums and I spin around, chills going down my spine when his hands gently brush my hair out of the way, warm fingertips brushing over my cool skin. The instant relief of being free from the snug material has nothing on his quiet gasp as he slowly drags the zipper down. He steps back while I shrug off the dress, leaving it to pool at my feet before turning to face him.

His hair color looks out worldly under the favor of the moonlight; shining strands of silver and dark grey swaying with the summer breeze. The way the light reflects off his chains casts him in an eternal glow as he looks at me with those warm, brown eyes. The hints of adoration and need in those captivating orbs break me from my trance.

I take more steps until I'm standing in front of him, pushing his blazer off his shoulders and tilting my head to meet his awestruck gaze, my tone soft and warm, "Baekhyun."

He gulps, letting it fall to the floor while I rest my hand on his chest, placing the other on the back of his neck. The fast beating of his heart under my palm makes me smile before my lips press to his, savoring the taste of champagne on his tongue. I tighten my hold on him when he wraps his arms around my waist, backing me up to the bed.

I sit perched on the edge of the mattress, looking up at him when he pulls off his t-shirt, exposing lean muscle and honey-toned skin to my hungry eyes. I can't help rubbing down his chest and gazing at him from head to toe, smiling at the tint of pink to his cheeks. His leather pants join the scattered pile on the floor before he joins me on the bed, his gentle hands pulling off the rest of our clothes.

"You sure are being bashful tonight," I murmur, lightly tangling my fingers in his hair, relishing in how his warm body presses mine to the cool sheets.

Baekhyun smiles, pressing a chaste kiss to my collarbone. "Let's take things slow tonight." He meets my wide eyes with his adoring ones, pulling the covers over our bodies when I give a timid nod.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

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Cry with me

A/N:

HA! Y'all thought I was going to break these two up forever. I still had the Un Village scene left!!! >:'D A lot has happened in this long asf Finale and you know, on one hand (me being me) I'm never satisfied with it, HOWEVER those last two scenes? Yeah, that's the best for me. :')

Okay I NEED TO RANT for 2 minutes. *inhale*

I have never, ever EVER had such a hard time writing a character. My perfectionism really popped out in Jackson's scenes, I swear. I tried writing about this man and it just didn't feel right because I don't know him as well. I legit spent almost a week watching Youtube videos, GOT7 music videos, JACKSON SOLO VIDEOS and fell down a rabbit hole of smut (typical smfh) just to figure out how to present him properly! I know writing is all about how you present your character and how you can make them different than the person you base them off of but holy f*ck I wanted him accurate and that accuracy kicked me in my nonexistent balls… so that up there was the final result *deep exhale*

After all of this I can safely say that Jackson is one of my favorite soloists and member of GOT7 bye-

-THE ACTUAL END NOTE WITHOUT THE RAMBLING-

We've finally made it, loves. Six Phases is completed. It's been 2 long years of writing this story. 2 years full of laughter, smiles, dance breaks, hardships and tears.

I'm writing this end note before I even finish the story that you've read above. I'm writing this little note while on hiatus. I'm writing this while in the process of working on this story so I can heal - because that is the very reason this story was created. For healing. For growth.

The Baekhyun character you all know, see, hate and love? His expressions of love are heavily influenced by IRL Jenny; my girlfriend; my heart. My coauthor; my other half.

Without her, I wouldn't know genuine happiness, vulnerability, or to know that someone can love you unconditionally. Flaws and all. Without her, I would have stopped at chapter 4 and disappeared from the writing world forever. She taught me that it is okay to be open, my loud annoying rambling self and that I deserve to follow my dreams. She has stopped me from deleting this story a hundred times. She is the reason why I opened my heart time and time again to truly let these characters' voices be heard. Their flaws and all.

Every character is a part of me, but Baekhyun and Jenny are inspired by her. I can't express how grateful I am to her without crying on you; I've cried enough happy tears while finishing this lmao SO just know that she has helped me a lot with completing this story, and for what I will write in the future.

Before I end this note that has gone on for too long already, I want to express my gratitude and love to everyone who has helped me continue and finish this story. Please don't feel bad if I don't mention you directly, I have warmth in my heart for everyone who has read Six Phases. You being here means the world to me.

Loving Mentions

Miss Kay - you seriously don't know how much you have restored my love for this story. I'll never forget the first time you reblogged SP on tumblr and your comment still brings tears to my eyes. I always thought this story was garbage and seeing how much you enjoyed reading it encouraged me to pick up where I left off. Thank you for everything <3 I can't thank you enough.

Miss Jamie - I always love reading your comments and the theories you had with each new chapter of the story. I'll never forget that Minute Man joke, I swear. I'm still laughing over it. Not to be giddy but I always look forward to your comments ^^ Thank you for always sharing your thoughts about the story with me <3

Sherlock Holmes Anon - dear, you and your THEORIES!!! I adore them all. I love all the knowledge you've brought to the table about the meaning of the colors in this story and its universe. You are amazing and everything you are studying is paying off!!! Wishing you all the best in your studies ^^ show those exams who's boss, they got nothing on you and your lovely brain <333333

My aff loves

Beau1996, alexajjang, byundipyun,

queeniexoxo, byunsugar, Taqdees,

juntar, Vish15, baeknhyu,

Baekie_18, Endzii22, ohyeahbb, Shawolgurl, bbhmystar.

- thank you for all of your lovely comments. Your words made me the happiest in the world. Every time I used to get those instant aff notifs on my phone, I'd run across my house to read them, ahhh~~~ I always love hearing from you <33333

My tumblr lovelies - thank you sooo much for all the love and interactions you've given to my story T-T I'm not tearing up, it's the cake batter in my eyes. You guys are amazing.

My beloved anon readers, tumblr and aff commenters - I'm sending you so many freaking hugs and tissues for the angst you've been exposed to XD hearing the hot tea and ideas you had for this story was such a joy. Thank you <3

I've spent hours a day replying back to you all, no joke. Every comment is precious to me and I always want to give back what you all have given me <333 I hope this story's ending was a happy one for you, I've had it planned since fall 2020 and I'm so happy to finally be able to share it with all of you.

Thank you, for interacting, commenting, subscribing, and upvoting. I appreciate all the love you've given this baby (haha) fic of mine more than you can ever imagine. This story is dedicated to all of you <3

-and oh, don't worry. This isn't the end of Baekhyun & Riley's story, this is only the beginning. <3

Thank you, can't wait to see you soon 0:) <3

~Love a million times over, Nisa

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#baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun romance #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun angst #The End #Six Phases

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winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

caught out.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: i am SO excited to share this installment with you! There are a few key developments in this chapter, so get excited! we fly through route 66 and in the blood in this part, and we might get a ring..... :)

an ajf fic that requires little to no context!

words: 5.3k warnings: canon-typical injury, medical setting, some really soft stuff

summary: foyet’s scars leave more than trauma in their wake, but aaron finds he has more to live for - a future, a life, a family. (au!october 2013)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

Before this moment, you’d never fully considered what it would be like for Aaron to die in front of you. You’d certainly come close before - between close calls with unsubs and a fair few stupid decisions, close calls weren’t unheard of by any means. But even in those moments, as scared as you were, there was always part of you that knew he’d be okay. A part of you that knew he’d come home to you.

Right now, that knowledge is universally absent as he collapses out of nowhere in the conference room.

“Aaron!” You shoot out of your chair and drop to the floor beside him, immediately reaching for his wrist. You’re relieved to find a pulse, albeit a weak one. You know you’re already crying, absolutely terrified.

Somehow, you manage to look up at JJ, meeting her wide, scared blue eyes. “Call EMS. They’re in the building and faster than an ambulance.”

She snaps to, running to Aaron’s office for the direct line.

“Hang in there, baby.” You wrap his hand in yours, and Derek helps you turn him over. Aaron’s halfway in your lap now, your body bowed over him.

He stirs a little, and you shush him, brushing the hair off his forehead. His breath rattles in his chest, struggling, as he reaches for you.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare leave me.” You don’t realize you’re talking until Derek lays a hand on your shoulder.

EMS arrives, and you’re not sure how much time has passed by the time they get him onto the gurney and down the stairs. You keep up with them for as long as you can before Anderson and Derek snag your arms, holding you back.

Derek tugs you once, gently, by the wrist, and you fall into him. He’s already moving, guiding you to the elevators and down to the car. He repeats the same things, over and over, every minute or so, as you make the long journey to the hospital.

“It’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s tough. Hotch isn’t going anywhere.”

+++

A doctor opens the doors, a clipboard in her hand. “Hotchner?”

You rise, approaching the doctor. “Yes?”

“Are you his next of kin?”

You nod, reaching for your wallet.

The doctor smiles at your obvious agitation. “No need to show your credentials. Agent Hotchner is out of surgery and resting comfortably.”

“What happened?”

She sighs. “The scar tissue from his previous wounds tore, causing slow, but significant internal bleeding. It was touch and go on the table, but he’s a fighter. Something kept him here. Your attending will have more information for you once you’re settled with him.”

You swallow, trying to keep your throat clear as your eyes well up again.

She presses a hand to your arm. “You can see him now. He was asking for you before we put him under.”

“Thank you.”

When she disappears behind the doors again, you return to the chair you’d been glued to for the previous six hours.

Dave stands with you as you gather your things. You look at him and he leans forward to kiss your cheek. “Take your time. We’ll be reachable. Let us know when he’s awake.”

You nod. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you mentally draft a text message to Jessica before sending it off. JJ let her know what happened after she called EMS, and she’s been standing by ever since.

As a pair, you decided to keep things from Jack until you were certain of an outcome. No need to make him worry longer than necessary.

4:27pm Aaron’s out of surgery. Not sure how long they’re keeping him. I’ll let you know when it’s a good time to bring Jack over.

She replies right away.

4:27pm. It never ends, does it? 4:28pm I’ll have my phone on me. Thank you. 4:28pm Love you.

With a little tug at your lips, you reply.

4:28pm Love you too. Kiss our boy for me.

A little whoosh sounds as she replies.

4:28pm Of course xx

You’re finally able to breathe when you see Aaron. Though he looks shockingly small in that big bed, hooked up to intimidating machinery, he is alive.

Bar’s on the floor, today.

He’s still out, like the doctor said, and probably would be for another few hours. You cross to his side - the one without the IV - and sit beside him. When you get there, you take his hand and press his palm to your forehead, leaning into him. Even among the sharp, antiseptic smell of the hospital, he smells like himself.

His touch, as it always does, heals you from the inside out. You can feel your blood pressure drop, your heart rate slow. The warmth of his hand sinks into your head, your chest, letting you take deeper breaths that are far more satisfying.

After you're sure he’s well and truly alive, you wrap his hand in both of your own and scoot your chair so you can drop your head against his pillow. Uncomfortable in the extreme, you close your eyes, happy for the weight of his hand in yours.

+++

When Aaron wakes, he’s confronted with a few things that confuse him (the ache in his ribs and the pounding in his head, to name two) and a few that don’t (the smell of your skin, the familiar feeling of your fingers laced through his). He decides to address the less confusing elements first.

He turns his head, a shockingly difficult maneuver, and finds you out like a light - your head on his pillow, your arm tucked under your face. Even in sleep, your brow pinches and your mouth draws a tense line.

There’s an attempt to move his hand so he can touch your face, but you wake and startle before he even makes it a quarter inch.

Your eyes meet his and you heave a sigh of relief. “Aaron.”

His lips pull at the corners. “Hi.” There’s a scrape in his voice, raw from disuse.

You haul yourself up, bringing one of your hands to his face, mindful of his nasal cannula. “You scared the fuck out of me, you know that?”

“I’m sorry.” His sincerity breaks your heart, and he tries to sit up, but you shake your head, reaching for the remote.

You prop him up a little and he reaches for you again. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

He whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.” He leans back, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. “Did they tell you what happened?”

You nod, your eyes still roaming over his face. “Well first of all, they lost you twice on the table, but before that, the scar tissue from your stab wounds tore and caused significant internal bleeding. They’re sure it was a slow bleed - over the course of hours, maybe days.”

You swallow, and a fresh set of tears fall down your cheeks. It’s frustrating.

“If you didn’t go down when you did, when you were awake, it’s possible you could have bled out in your sleep without even realizing it.”

You’re proud of yourself for getting through your thought, even if you were shaking toward the end. It’s close to unbearable to consider the possibility of waking beside him, finding him cold and unmoving beside you. The horror of it pushes at your eyes and a sob rips through your chest.

For some reason, you apologize.

He shakes his head, his brow crumpling. “Come here, honey. Come here.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I -“

He shushes you and moves over, leaving space for you to shuffle onto the bed beside him. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Come here. I’m alright.” You tuck your face into his neck as his other arm wraps around you the best while attached to his IV. “You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

You kiss the skin you can reach, placing a hand over his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. So much.”

One of his hands traces up and down your back, dancing in patterns you don’t have the brain space to follow, while the other covers yours on his chest. Soon enough, you’re asleep again.

+++

When Dave comes back to check on you both, he finds you curled together - as much as you can be - in the hospital bed. Aaron’s cheek is smooshed against your head, his cannula knocked out of place, your leg hooked over one of his on top of the covers. Your hands are still clasped together over his chest, his IV easily accessible to the nurses that flutter in and out as the day passes.

The tear tracks are still visible on your face, the exhaustion still pulling at your eyes.

In all his years of knowing you, Dave had never seen you as distraught as you were when Aaron went down in the conference room. Up to that point, he thought you both somewhat invincible, even at your weakest.

Though you both had your fair share of hospital stays over the years, none of them ever broke through that ceaseless calm that arced between you and Aaron. When you’re in the room together, there’s a pervasive comfort, almost moving as two halves of the same person at any given time, hardly capable of the wild panic he saw in your eyes this morning.

Satisfied you’re both alright, he takes his leave. There is a case to solve, of course.

+++

Jessica brings Jack over the next morning, and he’s quick to gingerly crawl into his father's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck.

Jack says something you can’t hear, but Aaron’s response carries across the room in his low, murmuring baritone.

“I’m okay, buddy. We’re alright. I’ll be home soon, and off work for a little while, so we’ll get to spend some time together.”

You meet Aaron’s eyes over Jack’s head before his flicker to Jess’s. He nods once, and holds Jack tight to him.

When they part, Jack trots back to you and you rake your fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

He looks up at you, and something passes between you.

I’ll take care of him. He’ll come home safe to you, bud.

Jack sighs and tucks into you, wrapping his arms around you. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

+++

“I saw Haley.”

You look up at him, your chin propped on his shoulder. “What?”

“I saw Haley. We -” he laughs a little, with only the barest hint of a wince. “We were dressed like old Hollywood movie stars and we were in this...theatre.” He shakes his head a little and you know he thinks it’s absurd.

“Don’t do that. Tell me. What did you see?”

He throws you a grateful look and continues. “She found me in the lobby and we went inside. Foyet was there too, but she wasn’t scared. They were almost friendly. It was...strange.” He squints, remembering. You gingerly place your hand on his chest, feeling the heat from his healing wounds. He places his hand over yours again, his thumb tracking back over the back of your knuckles. “There was this massive screen and she had popcorn...and then a bunch of little scenes from our,” his arm flexes around you, “life since she died started rolling. We talked - about Jack, about you, the way you are with him.”

He’s holding something back. “What did she say?”

“She said,” he swallows thickly, “that you’re good with him. She looked really happy watching you two together.”

You smile, but there’s an edge to it, something long-suffering and raw. “I’ll never be her, though.” You know he misses her and you know it’ll never be the same. But even then, you know you aren’t a replacement, either.

Aaron closes his eyes and presses a desperate kiss to the top of your head. “You’re just what we need, sweetheart. You’re everything.”

You look at him and he looks at you. There’s something at work behind his eyes. You blink once, slowly. “What are you thinking about, over there?”

The thing playing in his eyes sneaks down to his mouth, dancing at the corners. “Marry me.”

A hysterical laugh leaves you, but there’s no anxiety in it, just disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me.”

He’s dead serious. Weirdly, that observation doesn’t send your heart racing like you thought it would. Nevertheless, you find yourself without speech. You open and close your mouth a couple times, struggling.

Of course you’d talked about this before. You already lived together, already co-parented Jack with teamwork and consistency - almost every step accomplished completely out of the traditional order of things. There were moments where you brought him a beer or cashed in some favor or another in the bedroom and Aaron would say, “I could marry you, just for that,” but there was always a playfulness to it. You always told him you’d meet him in Vegas by way of response, only half-kidding.

Marriage was always on the table, always the implication, but you always figured you’d get around to it later. It never seemed to be the right time and you’re happy right where you are, so it never mattered much.

But here you are, suddenly sitting at the proverbial table, staring engagement in the face.

Aaron Hotchner just asked me to marry him.

Well, actually he told you to marry him.

True. I mean it’s not like he has to ask. He already knows the answer.

So answer him, stupid!

He waits for you with an endless patience. There’s not a hint of concern or anxiety in his gaze - just a soft adoration you’ve seen thousands of times before. He knows what your answer will be. He always has.

“Okay.”

Aaron snorts. “Okay?”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Okay, Hotchner. I’ll marry you.” You shrug while he gingerly lets out another laugh. “I’m more than happy to be more than your quasi-spouse and Jack’s quasi-parent.” It’s obviously a joke and he mirrors your grin. “So...okay. Final answer.”

He shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Go into the back pocket of my go-bag and bring me what you find in there.”

You frown at him, but follow instructions, clambering off the bed.

There’s a little, flatish box with the smallest of code-locks securing the lid in the pocket. It’s made of something reinforced, and it’s heavier than you anticipated.

Returning to the bed, you sit on the edge, handing him the box. He adjusted while you were shuffling about, now sitting up almost all the way in the cocoon of pillows you built for him.

With a sly smile, he rolls the code into the lock, and the box springs open. He turns it around toward you, and you’re confronted by a simple, gorgeous ring.

You blink rapidly, your eyes shifting from the ring to Aaron, and back to the ring.

“I bought this after I installed Derek as unit chief, four years ago. You rightfully tore into me after I pulled that stunt with that unsub, and I…” he trails off, thinking.

You can tell he’s choosing his words carefully, picking around years and years of feelings.

“I don’t know. I knew something I didn’t know, if that makes any sense at all. I knew it was yours, too, when I got it, but I didn’t acknowledge it even after I tucked it in my old go-bag for safe keeping and kept it there, ever since. The only time I didn’t have it with me was in Pakistan. I left it in a locked box in the office at home.”

He laughs at himself, looking down at the cable-knit blanket over his legs.

“I’m an idiot, and of course you set me to rights after Pakistan, and Haley told me I was still an idiot not fifteen hours ago. She said you’re the best thing that’s happened to our family, she misses you, and I’ll only be four years late if I ask you to marry me now.” He looks back at you with a little smile. “I love you. It’s not enough, but I love you.”

There’s nothing to say, so you just let him take the ring from the box and slip it in your finger. The silver shines against your skin, the tiny diamonds casting rainbows against the wall in the morning sunlight.

It’s gorgeous.

When it’s in place, you scoot closer to him. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you, smiling against your mouth.

“Your flair for the dramatic never ceases to amaze me,” you say against his lips. You lean back, carding your fingers through the hair at his temples. “You couldn’t have proposed to me in the absence of a near death experience, could you?”

He shakes his head. “Where’s the fun in that?”

+++

Wearing your ring around the house feels right. Jack was, of course, in on the whole operation and was absolutely stoked when he saw the ring on your finger as you helped his father through the door.

You take a few days off together before the next case. Much to your surprise, Aaron lets you help him as he recovers, taking it easy until all of his wounds close back up and his whole regimen of pain meds are almost completed.

He’s home for a few more days while you return to the field. The team asks after him when you return, and you keep them abreast of his recovery without mentioning your change in status.

“They’re gonna figure it out eventually,” Aaron said, putting his toothbrush back into his toiletry bag.

You roll your eyes, throwing your pajama shirt over your head. It’ll likely be removed once you actually get into bed, but it’s the thought that counts. “Yeah, but I’d rather handle that when we’re not actively solving a murder without you, don’t you think?”

His brow quirks and his head tips the slightest bit - a concession. “Fair point.”

When you lean over to grab your jeans off the floor, the ring and chain slip out of your collar and hang down, swinging a little. It falls back against the center of your chest as you straighten, bouncing against your shirt with the lightest of clinking sounds. You find Aaron’s eyes on it when you look over at him and offer him a small smile. “Hey.”

He startles and his eyes jump to yours.

“I love you.”

A wide smile and an eye roll return your sentiment.

Wearing your ring on a chain seems like the best way to keep it safe in the field. Aaron doesn’t mind, and you like to have it close to your heart anyways. The indent it leaves in your skin when you remove your vest brings a smile to your face.

“What’s with you?” JJ asks. “You’re all smiley.”

You shrug. “I just feel good. It’s nice to have Aaron home and safe, you know?”

She nods, squeezing your shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

+++

When you get to the door with Aaron and Jack in tow, Penelope opens the door with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you were going to make it!”

She wraps Aaron in a tight, but careful hug, presses a kiss to your cheek, and ruffles Jack’s hair. Her all-intents-and-purposes nephew jets past her, finding Henry and Spencer in the dining room playing cards together.

“We were feeling up to it, and Jack’s friend offered to pick him up here for a last-minute sleepover, so we figured we’d come crash the party,” you tell her.

She snags Aaron’s sleeve as she steps back into the house. “Oh, happy almost-birthday, sir.” You glance at Aaron with a suppressed smile, and he presses a finger to his lips. “I’ll keep it on the DL, don’t worry.” With another wide smile at the both of you, she ushers you into the house. “Alright everyone .”

Emily rounds the corner to get Spencer, leaving the boys to play. You have your photo ready, as does Aaron (but he cheats - he always has his photo with him), when you all step up to the beautiful altar Penelope has set up in the middle of the living room.

Penelope grabs a glass of wine with a fake eyeball in it for Aaron, and one with a fake ear floating in it for you.

“Uh... I want to thank everybody for doing this with me,” Penelope smiles at you all, “and our altar's burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here. I will start. Uh…” She pulls a photo out of her dress. “This is my mom and dad. I miss them.”

She places another photo, this time of a cat. “And this is my cat Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He's a weird cat.” Everyone laughs, and she passes it to JJ.

“Uh, ok. Well, uh, this is my sister Roslyn.” She sets a photo of her sister on the altar. The resemblance between them is uncanny. “Ros. She always dreamt that someday she'd live in Paris, so, um...it didn't happen, but I thought this would bring her some happiness.” Careful fingers drop an Eiffel Tower trinket beside the photo and it draws a little smile to your face.

Dave steps up, pinning a photo of two smiling young men in Vietnam and two tickets on one of Penelope’s tiny easels. You recognize one of the men as a very young Dave.

A much older Dave tells you the other man is, “Private First Class Darryl Jenson. We lost him during the Tet offensive.”

Derek looks around, trying to get a better view. “What are the tickets?”

“Opening day next season, Wrigley, right behind the home dugout. Jenson was a die hard Cubs fan.”

“Sweet.” Derek claps Dave on the shoulder and you all direct your attention to Alex.

“Um... My mom.” Alex places a photo of a smiling older woman next to Roslyn, propped up with a fountain pen. “She was the one who got me into crossword puzzles-- no erasing allowed-- which got me into linguistics.” She looks over at Spencer, who pulls two photos out of his pocket.

“You said we could bring more than one, right?”

Garcia nods vigorously. “Oh, yes. This is a come one, come all altar.”

Aaron pulls you close, and you loop your pinkie through the belt loop at his hip.

Spencer places a picture of Maeve near a red rose, and your heart breaks for him. He doesn’t say anything until he’s got the second of his photos ready in his hands. “Nikola Tesla. I figured he's probably been inventing things on the other side, so hopefully he'll bring something to us.” You smile as Spencer meets your eyes.

I love you.

He smiles a little back. Love you.

Derek’s next. “I guess that's me. Ok. I brought... My pops.” He props a photo of his dad against a candle, keeping him secured with a cigar. “He was a cigar aficionado, big time.” He laughs a little, as do the rest of you. “And, actually, Rossi, he was also a huge Cubbies fan, so I was thinking maybe he and Private Jenson over there, maybe they could go to the game together.”

Rossi smiles, and tips his glass to Mr. Morgan. “They can sort that out when they get here.”

They look at you, and you slip the photo out of your back pocket with your right hand, keeping the other tucked against Aaron. “This is Jenny. Some of you know her as the late Director of NCIS, but she was a mentor of mine for the entire time I knew her. She was killed in the line of duty back in ‘08, protecting a friend.” You laugh a little. “Once, over lunch, she told me to chase what I wanted, to push hard, and advocate for myself.” You throw a glance at Hotch and he catches it with warm eyes. “The next day, I asked the SSA in charge of my NAT class to consider me for a unit placement to complete my case hours.”

A little smile pulls at your lips. “I wouldn’t be at the BAU, I wouldn't have my life,” My Aaron, you add to yourself, “if it wasn’t for her.” You place her photo next to a candle on the other side of Roslyn. Jenny’s red hair and bright smile match the flame.

Wordlessly, Aaron pulls the photo of Haley out of his wallet and places her beside Jenny while the team looks on with quiet eyes. He carefully places an opalescent barrette beside her. You recognize it from her box of jewelry - the same one that holds her engagement and wedding rings - that lives in his bedside drawer.

He tucks you under his arm and kisses your temple. You rest your head against him, wrapping an arm around his waist under his sport coat, winding your fingers in his shirt. You’re wearing your ring, but nobody’s noticed it yet.

Dave takes the proverbial stage again as he raises his glass. “Well, I guess this is proof positive that ancestry ain't all bad.”

Garcia follows suit, raising her glass as you all share fond looks. “How about a toast to the... 30 or 40 of us?”

You all cheers, and drink to those in the room and out of it. Haley and Jenny smile back at you. You look at them both, for a moment, before meeting Aaron’s pensive gaze. The same thought floats through your head.

These are the women that lead you to each other. These women built your future, your present. One to guide you to Aaron and the other to guide Aaron to you.

It’s only when you absent-mindedly reach over JJ for a snack, after Aaron abandons you for Dave, that the levee breaks.

“Oh my god.”

Finally caught out.

Instead of looking at you, her head whips up toward Aaron, who’s watching her with a smug smile on his face. Her mouth drops open and she grabs your hand, looking at the ring in the low light. It’s all happened within a split second, but Penelope is the next to catch on.

“‘Oh my God’ what? What’s going on? What did I miss?” She turns, trotting over in her heels to see what JJ’s going on about.

Her squeal almost deafens you, and you crane your neck to look over at Aaron, who’s taken refuge by the fireplace.

With a squint, Asshole.

What? His brows say. I’m just standing here. I didn’t do anything. He takes a sip of his wine and you roll your eyes.

Help me!

You can see him snort. Not a chance.

“I can’t believe you got engaged and nobody told me!” Penelope’s indignant shout carries across the room, and Derek’s the next to whip his head toward you.

“What?”

She turns toward him, her hands on her hips. “Hotch proposed and nobody said anything.”

You bite back a smile as the rest of the team advances on you. Your hand seems to fall into everyone’s palm once or twice as they look at the ring. They all coo over it in one way or another before the information actually sinks in.

“Wait, hold on.” As usual, JJ is the first to bring everyone back down to the ground. “When did this happen?”

Two hands land on your waist, and you tilt your head, giving Aaron space as he slides his arms around you. “There’s nothing like a near-death experience to straighten your priorities, don’t you think?”

Alex laughs. “Don’t tell me you proposed in the hospital.”

You give her a yikes expression, and she huffs.

“C’mon Hotch. Really?”

He chuffs good-naturedly. “Like I said, I experienced a certain...clarity regarding the direction of our lives.” He squeezes you, and you laugh. “Don’t just jump on me for this, though. This one,” you know he’s gesturing to you with his chin, “just said ‘okay’ when I asked.”

You twist around to glare at him. Traitor bastard.

He looks way too smug.

“No you didn’t,” JJ insists. “No you didn’t!”

“Oh come on, Jayje. You left Will hanging for three years. You don’t have a single leg to stand on.”

She rolls her eyes, but you know you’ve got her when Will steps up beside her and kisses her cheek. “Got you there, darlin’”

Rossi, of course, takes your face in his hands and plants two kisses on your cheeks and then does the same to Aaron while Derek pulls you to his chest.

“I’m so happy for you,” he says. He looks over your shoulder at Aaron, still holding onto you. “Hotch, if you fuck this up, I’ll make your death look like an accident and cry at your funeral.”

Aaron laughs, and you duck out from under Derek’s arm while they embrace with some manly back smacks.

Alex gives you a hug, followed by Spencer, who offers you a quiet congratulations. Jack and Henry wander out after a few minutes, drawn by the commotion. Henry goes straight to his mom, while Jack runs to you.

“Did you tell them?” He asks.

You nod, running your fingers through his hair. Both Hotchner boys have the best hair - thick and soft - and it's nearly impossible to keep your hands out of it whenever one of them makes themselves available for head scratches. It also helps that they’ll do anything for head scratches.

Win-win, by your standards.

Dave taps a fork against his glass, getting the attention of everyone in the room. “We have much to celebrate tonight. Not only do we celebrate the lives of people no longer with us, we celebrate the love between two people who are.” He raises his glass. “To our past, to our present, to our future.”

The rest of you toast, clinking your glasses together. A sense of something you can only describe as normal winds around you all as you drink and chat and laugh in Penelope’s living room.

Aaron steps up beside you and kisses your temple. “Having a good time?”

“Mhmm.” You lean into him as he wraps his arms around you, pressing his chest to your back. “Really good time.”

There’s music playing - one of Dave’s playlists - and you sway back and forth, only loosely connected to the beat. You tip your head back, letting your weight rest in his arms for just a moment before remembering he’s still healing, pulling away from him all at on

You can feel him pull you back toward him. “I’m fine, honey. Relax.” After a moment, you do, melting back into him. You almost feel silly for pulling away from him. If you’ve learned anything in the years you’ve known Aaron, he’s anything but fragile.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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ri-ahhh · 4 years

Note

could I request something where E is like editing but y/n gets bored and sits on his lap and starts to grind which ends up with maybe some punishments from E after he's had enough?

(my first E anything, this was a trip haha -- shout out to Pao @persistence-ofmemories, here’s your ethan smut lol)

You’ve been watching him all day. Strolling around the house shirtless with his AirPods in and sipping a smoothie while he conversed easily on continuous business calls. Hunched over his laptop answering emails. Sitting at the table with Grayson while they brainstormed new video ideas and Wakeheart promotional pitches.

Something about businessman Ethan hit so much different for you. He’s not an overly serious person on the daily, but CEO Ethan doesn’t fuck around. When he’s on these calls, his voice takes on this timbre that’s deep and confident and self-assured. Leaves no room for argument when he knows what’s best for his brands. It makes you clench your thighs and bite your lip as you watch and listen from your perch at the bar where you’re doing your own work for the day on your laptop.

But he can also get extremely caught up in it, in the perfection and responsibilities that are required when you’re a self-made businessman. Sometimes it’s hot and endearing, and sometimes it’s frustrating. Tonight, it’s frustrating.

You emerge from the ensuite bathroom in his room, dressed for bed in one of his t-shirts and squeezing some of the excess water out of your hair from your shower, to find him at his desk chair and on the phone again. You frown, checking the time on your phone. It’s after 10:30 PM, much too late considering he’s been doing this since around 8 this morning.

You walk up behind him, leaning over the back of the chair and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You press a lingering kiss to his temple and nuzzle his cheek as you inspect what he’s working on. A still frame from their new video they’re about to post is on the screen of his laptop.

“I can’t decide if we should leave this part at 11 minutes in, bro. What do you think?”

You don’t know who he’s talking to, probably Ryan or maybe even Grayson; they have a habit of calling each other even if they're both in the house, rather than just get up and go wherever the other one is. You’re a little confused as to why he’s editing of all things right now, though.

“Babe, what are you doing? Isn’t this what you pay Ricky for now?” you ask, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. It’s getting so long, and you're not mad about it one bit.

Ethan glances up at you and puckers his lips. You oblige him with a quick peck, but you still expect an answer. He has a habit of trying to temporarily appease you when he’s busy and focused on something.

He sighs when he realizes you’re not giving up that easily. He puts the phone on mute, and you do indeed see Grayson’s name on the screen. “Ricky’s swamped, so I told him I had this one. It’s not too crazy.”

“You’ve been working literally all day, E. Can’t you come to bed so we can spend some time together before we go to sleep? I can’t stay up too late, I have a meeting in the morning.”

Ethan hesitates, turning the phone speaker back on to talk to his brother through his headphones. “Hey, Gray one sec.” He mutes it again. “Sweetheart, this won’t take me very long, I promise. The video is gonna be pretty short.”

You roll your eyes and pick up the towel you had dropped to the floor, turning your back on him to hang it up in the bathroom. You refuse to be the nagging girlfriend. If he wants to prioritize work he doesn't even need to be finishing right now, you’re happy to guilt trip him.

“Whatever, E. It doesn’t feel like a long time to you, but a ‘short video’ still means like three hours.”

When you come back into the bedroom, you expect him to be lounging on the bed with his phone, laptop shut for the night and LED lights on. So when you find him in the exact same position, talking to Grayson once again, a wave of rage and hurt washes over you. Ethan is usually an amazing and attentive boyfriend, and you’re not particularly clingy with him; you just want to spend some intimate time together after a nonstop work schedule on both your ends had left that time lacking in your relationship lately, and which doesn’t show any signs of changing in the coming week.

You consider giving in and slipping under the covers to pout and go to sleep after all. Even if you were tired enough to go to sleep now, though, you know you’d be way too mad to achieve that. Your course of action is easy, then.

“Baby...” Ethan huffs, irritation and amusement both detectable in his tone when you march over to him and swing a leg across his lap. He grunts when you plop yourself in his lap, adjusting until you’ve got your arms wrapped around his middle and your face nuzzled in his neck. “Seriously?”

“Seriously?” you mock his deep voice. You know he hates that, and your lips curve up where you press them to his neck when you feel him tense up a little. “We both know you don’t need to be doing this right now, I heard you and Gray decide to post in three days. No sponsor with a deadline to get approval from. You’re just being a workaholic instead of a considerate boyfriend.”

He shakes his head, his arms curved around you so he can still reach the keyboard of his laptop. You hear the clicks of the keys resume as he has the nerve to keep working. “I just want to get this done, so it’s over with and so I don’t have to worry about it in a couple of days. You’re being a brat.”

You scoff indignantly. You’re being a brat just because you want to spend some of the limited free time you both have with your boyfriend?

If that’s what he thinks you are, then you’ll let him have it.

You can hear Grayson’s muffled voice coming through the one AirPod Ethan’s wearing in the ear opposite from the one you’re next to. Perfect. You smirk and start planting sweet, innocent kisses up the side of his neck until you reach his ear, taking the lobe in-between your teeth teasingly.

Ethan inhales sharply when you tug on it with a little nibble before releasing it and putting your mouth right to his ear. You start rocking against him, sitting up some to put your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get off on you, with or without your help,” you whisper straight into his ear, smirking when your hot breath raises goosebumps on his bare skin. Now, it’s just a competition between his stubbornness and his desire for your pussy. The latter will win, you know it — it’s only a matter of time. “If you want to make this a mutual effort, I’m more than happy for you to do that.”

He releases a heavy breath, and you smile against his skin when you feel him hardening predictably beneath you. You grind deeper into him, and lick your tongue along the words inked into his skin on his collarbone.

He stays stubbornly focused in the chair, and you can hear Grayson still talking in his ear, but Ethan isn’t responding to him. His chest and neck are flushing pink, and you sit back to see if that pretty color is gracing his cheeks, too.

You grin when you see that it is. His arms are still draped loosely around your waist, no longer typing, so you lean back with your hands on his knees, still grinding on the large bulge growing in his sweatpants. His eyes trail over you, how the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing pools at your hips, exposing your soft cotton panties that you sleep in so he can see your pussy rocking on his dick.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, tossing your hair over one shoulder and biting your lip. You reach one hand down and lift your shirt so you can both see the wet patch growing in your panties. He lets out this tiny little masculine moan that has you going harder, faster. You grin and lift your eyes to watch him watch your hips, and the heat in his gaze makes you shiver. “Would feel better if you were inside me, E. Want that big dick inside me, stretching me out. Don’t you want that, baby?”

Ethan shakes his head incredulously again, clearing his throat. “Hey, I’m tired Gray. I’ll finish tomorrow, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for his brother to answer before ripping his headphone out of his ear, tossing it onto his desk, and tapping the red button on his phone to hang up. You squeal and giggle when he stands up suddenly, cupping his big hands under your thighs so you come with him. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and don’t waste any time threading your fingers into his hair and dragging his lips to yours.

He moans into your mouth and stumbles to the bed, but your kiss is short-lived as he tosses you onto the mattress. You bounce and laugh again, scooting back to settle against the pillows as he crawls predatorily on top of you. He looks fucking amazing -- his hair a mess, skin tan from all the shirtless skateboarding he’s been doing lately, dick print evident in his grey sweats. Your mouth and pussy water simultaneously, and you reach out for him as he gets closer.

“You think that was cute?” he asks with a tiny smirk, allowing you to wrap your arms around him as he settles between your legs. “Turning me on while I’m working? While I’m on the phone with my brother?”

“Kind of. I did ask you nicely to stop working,” you remind him, trailing a finger down the line bisecting his torso until you reach his pants. You palm his erection through the soft fabric, grinning when he thrusts into your touch. “Not my fault you can’t listen.”

Ethan hums and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, making your hand fall away from him as he slinks them down your freshly shaved legs and leans back to toss them over his shoulder. His eyes are glued to your pussy and the shimmer of your arousal clinging to your smooth lower lips. Your head falls to your shoulder as you spread your legs more for him, whining thankfully when his fingers brush up your slit.

“So wet for me already,” Ethan says, collecting the slick moisture on his fingertips as he strokes you lazily.

You nod, lifting your hips to encourage him to deepen his touch. It feels good, but it’s barely there, and he definitely hasn't come near your clit. “Please, E.”

He tsks his tongue at you, smirking as he watches your face watch his. “Patience, baby. You couldn’t wait for me to finish working. You’ll have to wait a bit to get to cum, now.”

His words turn you on as much as they anger you. He laughs, actually laughs, when he feels more wetness seep onto his fingers from where he’s toying with your hole. “Oh, baby, did you like that? You like me making you wait?”

You have too much pride even through all the maddeningly unsatisfying pleasure he’s bringing about to answer him outright. You let out a loud moan when he sinks his two middle fingers into you. “You...you’re an ass.”

He chuckles again, wiggling his fingers a little bit inside you before taking them out, making sure he has your eyes locked on his when he sucks them into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, licking the stray bits that cling to his lips as he leans back over you and slips the same fingers back inside. He still doesn’t touch your clit, but his fingers start pumping and moving just how you like, filling you up but putting all the pressure in just the right spots.

Your legs spread even wider, head tossed back to the pillow as you grab the forearm supporting him over you with one hand and clutch the sheets by your head with the other.

“E...holy shit!” you whimper, digging your nails into that eagle on his arm. His fingers feel so good, hitting you just right, but it’s not enough to make you cum, and he knows it. He smirks down at you, watching you fall apart as the sloppy slick sounds of your pussy mingle in the room with his heavy breaths and your high-pitches gasps and moans. You don’t know how much more you can take of it.

“Ethan, please make me cum, please make me cum!”

Ethan groans, your begging music to his ears, and he relents by finally adding his thumb to the mix, lighting upon your clit and rubbing gentle, slow circles into it. Your back lurches off the bed, your eyes meeting his as you plead with him not to stop, that you’re almost there.

Of course he doesn't listen, though. You want to sob when he pulls out of you with a harsh growl, licking his digits clean again before sitting back and shoving his sweats down his legs. He stands off the side of the bed to kick them off his feet.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he reprimands, shaking his head when he sees your hand instantly gravitate to your pussy. You whine but obey, waiting for him to climb back on the bed. He gathers your shirt in his hands, pulling up. “Lemme see your tits, baby. Wanna see them when I fuck you.”

You lift your arms at once, letting him pull it over your head so that you're both left completely naked. Ethan cups them both in his hands as he settles between your spread legs once again, and he ducks down to swipe his tongue over your nipples with sweet little suckles. He leaves each of them with a nip of his teeth and a soothing swipe of his tongue before he’s moving up to your mouth. You didn't realize it until that moment, but you needed the intimacy of his kiss, and it both calms you and makes you voracious for more of him.

As if he can read your mind, Ethan reaches between the two of you and takes his dick in hand, running the tip up and down your slit to coat himself in your copious arousal before tapping it against your clit. You jerk against him and moan into his mouth, which you feel curve against yours. He pulls back, watching your face intently as he pops the head into your entrance and sinks into you with one slow, gradual thrust.

You don’t think you've ever been this close this early, but you're still wound tight from how high he brought you just a few moments ago with his fingers. “God, E, fuck me. Fuck me with that big fucking dick.”

For the first time tonight, he obeys your command, moaning wantonly at your words. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and keep your legs close to your body as he pushes your knees to your chest. He’s deep deep in this angle, and you cry out so loud you wouldn't be surprised if Grayson could hear you down the hall.

That’s the least of your concerns, though, when he’s pumping into you so good, his thrusts hard and powerful as he grunts along with you, desperation clear in his own deep voice. You can tell he’s close too, He’s hitting just the right spot, and you lock eyes with him as you clutch his biceps in a death grip as he gets you right to the edge.

“Oh my...fuuuck E, I’m gonna cum!” you sob, and your body is letting go so hard you think your head has gone to another dimension.

“Baby, shit,” he hisses with how fucking tight your pussy starts spasming around his cock, how extra wet and warm everything gets all of the sudden. His head swims, and he slows his dick inside you, his heart and his ego ready to explode with how much he loves seeing you fall apart so good, because of him.

He lets go of your legs to lean over you again and mouth at your neck, bringing you back to earth with whispers of sweet nothings and gentle kisses to your face.

It takes what feels like all night, but eventually you can open your eyes again and be cognizant of your surroundings. You smile tiredly and let out a whispered curse as you cup his cheeks to kiss him lazily for a few moments, before releasing him and telling him to cum, too. He sits back again, and you shove your arms under your pillow, thrusting your chest out so your tits bounce for him as he starts pumping into your sensitive pussy again, chasing his nut.

His eyes flit back and forth from your chest to your face, where you're smiling up at him, all fucked out and sexy. “Fucking give it to me, E,” you whisper, clenching around him purposefully. He groans, looking at you desperately, questioningly. “Inside, baby.”

Ethan gives you all of three more sloppy, hard thrusts before you’re moaning with him as he shoots his load exactly where you told him. You love the unique warmth of his cum deep in your pussy.

He slowly collapses down on top of you, and you welcome his weight literally with open arms, holding him close to your chest, playing with his hair and giving him the same loving whispers he did to you.

When his breathing has slowed nearly back to normal, you direct his head up to kiss you. Your lips smack together quietly, and the feel of his mouth on yours just makes you feel complete in a way nothing else can.

“I should interrupt your work more often.”

#this makes me nervous #not exactly punishments but i'm not super into that sorry #hope this satisfies any e cravings haha #ethan dolan #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan fic #dolan twins #grayson dolan #dolan twins fic #blurb #e blurb

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slasherholic · 4 years

Text

request: Now my friend, what if we got another drunk Michael but the reader gave a shot at snuggling against drunk Mikey boi?

synopsis: Michael gets himself drunk off his ass. You take advantage. This is technically an epilogue to this nasty little piece right here, but reading it is not required (or recommended LOL)

warnings: mentions of abuse, reader has a female body, angst with a helping of fluff

All the Way Down | Michael Myers x Reader | NSFW

The concept of mercy, you think, as Michael’s bloodied fingers alight again on your skin, dragging up the front of your tender throat, drawing another unsteady, shuddering breath from your lips, can go fuck itself—because compared to last weekend, Michael’s play tonight has been dreadfully merciful.

Evening has fallen. The suburbs are quiet. The sky outside burns a brilliant orange and the light that drowns your bedroom is blistering. You sit entangled between Michael’s legs like a statue overgrown by vines. Since the sun began to set, he hasn’t allowed you to move an inch from his lap.

You do not want to look ahead at your reflection in your standing bedroom mirror. You do not want to glimpse your naked body or your tired eyes or the ugly reality of Michael’s markings, and though it seems a stupid thing to be grateful for, you are grateful your eyes do not have the option of straying anywhere but the ceiling; Michael’s busy hands are making sure of it.

His fingers clamped around your jaw force your chin upward at a painful angle. He traverses the flesh of your neck tirelessly, exploring your throat like territory he has yet to claim—as if he hasn’t done so a hundred times over already. The lazy sweeping of his calloused fingers across your skin stings like salt in an open wound, and you grit your teeth tightly together to keep the whimpers from escaping. They dribble out anyway.

You hate that sound. You hate that it is coming out of you. Most nights you wouldn’t dare try to stop your wounded little noises, but right now, it doesn’t matter. Because Michael isn’t trying to hurt you.

You know the ache in your jaw would be a splitting pain were that the case, a shocking sensation, unbearable. You know the disobedient tears escaping your squeezed-shut lids would not be trickling down your cheeks in such bitter silence.

Michael’s invading fingers do not poke and prod so much as sweep lightly over your rawed skin, tracing back and forth along the rope markings worn into your flesh like divots into soil. Cruelty is not his intent—he’s just being curious.

You blink softly as another set of tears slips down your face, and think to yourself that there does not exist a better feeling in the world than when Michael is holding you, and not being cruel.

And you are seized up stiffer than a corpse against his chest despite it.

His closeness is suffocating. His dangerous body presses in all around. His heat against your spine is a smothering inferno, and pin-pricks that feel very much like ants crawl all up and down your naked body, across your arms and legs and breasts, compelling you to break away from the raging fire that is Michael. Your instincts scream at you to writhe, to thrash, to struggle, to fight him.

You don’t. You wouldn’t dare. Because a struggle is not what he is after right now—a struggle might cost you your life. Michael’s presence alone is not what you fear; rather, it is the dreadful, heart-stopping state of his sobriety.

Or his tragic lack thereof.

He reeks of alcohol. His slow exhales sweep across your cheeks and invade your nostrils, hot and sour, grossly-sweet. The dark hunger in his eyes, that familiar coldness you have grown so accustomed to, has dulled as though buried. What brief glances you have dared to exchange with him in the mirror have not had the usual effect of halting your racing thoughts in their tracks nor frozen you like a deer caught in the headlights. What you see in his languid stare instead is unfocus, a dullness that borders on shocking. Michael is not just drunk; he’s shit-faced.

And now you find yourself captured in the arms of a man who could kill you with as little thought and effort as one squashes a bug on the sidewalk—and any lingering shred of self-control that existed in his primal mind has just been stolen away by a pint of alcohol.

Your evening Mimosa was what had done him in.

The bottle of champagne had been an impulse buy at the store; a tempting offer that you were in no position to refuse. The intrusive thoughts flared up anyway as you set the bottle down in your cart, eager to hound you—Champagne? Really? Tonight of all nights?

You swept them eagerly under the rug. This was to be no celebration, no commemoration of having survived another seven days of Michael. The opposite could not be truer. It was a Saturday evening, and college is shit, and you wanted nothing more than to get drunk off your ass and forget where and who and what you are for a while.

The pitcher had sat filled to the brim on the counter. The phone rang in the hallway, then. Your mother was on the other line.

You stayed on the phone with her while she talked herself to tears. She told you all sorts of things which, in truth, you only vaguely remember—you hadn’t been very present. You think she was calling to congratulate you. To tell you that she’s proud of the person you’ve grown up to be. She mentioned your schooling, and that had you crying, too, because college is no longer something you can be proud of. It hasn’t been for a long, long time. It is just an excuse to get away from Michael for a while.

Never had you come closer to spilling your awful, dirty little secret than during that phone call. How sickeningly easy it would have been to interrupt your mother’s praise and to let the messy truth about the monster in your house trickle out.

You maintained your fragile composure until your mother hung up the phone. The moment the line went dead you went back into the kitchen to chug and chug and chug.

Your heart plummeted. The pitcher was gone. Where it had gone was hardly a mystery.

You sprinted up the stairs by twos. You snatched your keys from your purse in your bedroom. You had nearly made it to the front door, and then Michael had ambushed you from the downstairs broom closet, and it was over. You’ve been his lap accessory ever since.

Your soft sobbing has long since waned, the runaway tears drying into salty stains on your cheeks. Now is not the time for crying; now is the time to be still and silent and to pretend with all your muster that you are an oversized doll, lifeless, incapable of hurt. You know that if you do something to excite Michael’s violence in this state—if you make him want to hurt you—you will lose your life.

Beneath you, Michael shifts his weight clumsily, tucking one leg under his body, as if the stiffness from the floor has just now crept into his bones. At some point his coveralls had fallen away from his shoulders to pool around his waist. As he tosses you in his lap you snatch up handfuls of the loose fabric, bracing against him.

He’s hard again, you realize, as the heat of his arousal sheathed in your body pulls out and away, leaving you uncomfortably empty. His cock is hot and velvety between your slickened thighs, the throbbing head of it poking and prodding at your cool skin as he realigns himself with your hole, doing so with obvious difficulty. A little sound escapes you when he pushes in again—the stretch of him is unusually forgiving. You slide easily back down his length, glued once more to the skin of his bare pelvis, stuffed full of him.

Michael’s second unintentional mercy is that the sex tonight had been everything but painful; your mimosa had turned the act into a sluggish, lazy crawl.

He had all but collapsed onto your bed, content to let gravity drag you right down on top of him. You had waited against his chest for minutes, breathless, shuddering at the breeze sweeping across your bare nipples, as he struggled to solve the puzzle of how to get his coveralls down past his hips. Upon his rediscovery of the missing piece—his zipper—the rest of the picture fell into place.

His hot hands clasped beneath your armpits to lift and lower you onto his waiting cock. He filled you at a languid, merciful pace. You had shuddered and heaved and braced for pain as he eased himself into you again, again, again. The stretch was snug but never splitting; the dreaded pain never arrived. Relaxing around Michael’s cock became all-too natural, and when he spilled himself inside of you, it was more than not-painful. It was tight and close and warm, warm, warm. It was good.

The goodness made you cry.

The tears might have been gratitude, or relief, or joy, if only Michael was sober, and not tremendously shit-faced. Instead they were just tears. For all his tenderness, you had only the alcohol to thank.

Michael had migrated from the bed to the floor soon after, and there his inspection of your body began. His hands have been all up and down your skin since—but his cock hasn’t left its place inside you.

For better or for worse, you suspect you no longer register in Michael’s numbed mind as a living thing; not as prey, not as a toy. You are simply a hole. Tight and wet and warm. He wouldn’t rather stick his cock in any other hole, and he most certainly doesn’t plan on leaving this one anytime soon.

Your thoughts snap back to the present as Michael’s hand comes suddenly free from your jaw. His hot fingers disappear from your neck, and they don’t return. The ghost of his careless pressure still lingers, an ache that penetrates deep into your cheeks; but it is far from the worst ache Michael has ever given you. You bear it in silence.

He grabs you around your waist. You feel his core muscles tightening up against your stomach, his thighs stiffening beneath your bottom, and you know before he does it that he is going to try to stand. Your heels dig against the small of his back. You capture desperate handfuls of his shirt.

It doesn’t feel right to touch him this way. It doesn’t feel natural. It doesn’t feel allowed. Even so, Michael’s hands don’t leave their place around your waist—he makes no effort to stop your advances. His solid chest is a more familiar resting place than any pillow and you settle into it with a hesitancy that gives way to utter uncaring. Thudding up through layers of deadly muscle throbs his dark heart, pounding against your cheek, rhythmic as a metronome, hideously soothing.

It occurs to you that you could stop that beating heart tonight.

On any other night you would not have dreamt it; but Michael slipped up. You can be free of him. Your life is still salvageable.

Only half believing it, you promise yourself that if you are given a chance, you will kill Michael before the sun comes up.

You marvel at how efficiently the alcohol has sucked away all his deadly grace as he staggers to his feet. Planting a hand on the corner of your dresser to steady himself, he begins to shuck his sagging coveralls the rest of the way down his legs with one foot, leaving him naked from the waist down. The coveralls slump into a heap on the ground. You utter a little cry when he nearly trips on them.

You hope that Michael will carry you to bed now. You hope he will collapse onto the mattress and pin you hopelessly beneath his body. You hope that he will not give you the chance to take his life. As he teeters past the bed, your hope droops. As he steps out into the hallway, it withers and dies. The nightmare charges down its tracks with no end in sight.

When Michael begins to descend the stairs it occurs to you that he is most likely going to stumble and fall and break both of your necks. You turn your face into his chest. You shut your eyes. You pray that it will happen.

By the cruelest of mercies, it does not.

He sways off the final step and rights himself on steady ground, and you are still alive to feel his forceful hands absently groping and kneading the flesh of your hips, his steamy breath beating down against your scalp. You are still alive to fulfill your promise to yourself.

He turns sharply into the downstairs hallway, away from the front door, and the relief now churning in your gut is just as cold and sickening as the anticipation had been. He’s not going to try and take you somewhere—he’s just hungry.

In the kitchen, Michael snacks with no regard for how you still cling to his chest. When wrappers litter the tile you suspect you’ve been forgotten. You peek over his shoulder as he finishes, watching the cold air billowing out from your open fridge as he begins a wobbly zig-zag in the vague direction of your couch.

Michael melts into the cushions. The couch may as well be on fire with the quickness you draw back your legs to avoid being crushed by his weight. He settles, his breaths filling out his frame deep as ever, even deeper. Your eyes are squeezed shut tight; You can’t look at him. You are afraid to look at him. You’re afraid that you will see something other than the cold, unfeeling face of your monster, that you will see something passive and unassuming and human, and then you won’t be able to do it. You won’t be able to kill him.

Michael’s heart thrums away beneath your cheek, utterly unassuming, unaware that its timer is ticking down, down, down.

The friction of your legs shifting against him seems to remind him of you all at once. He is quick to restrain your waist again. The back-and-forth effort of his cock rocking between your legs is sluggish and absent. He fucks you slowly, and it is good.

Michael’s thrusting slows to a lazy pistoning and then stops altogether, his tremendous heat spilling deep inside your core for the second time tonight. With his release, his powerful body softens like clay beneath you. You mold easily against his form. A minute passes, then two, then three—then more than you can keep track of. Michael’s cum oozes between your thighs and makes a mess on his own lap, but if he is aware of the wetness he is no longer present enough to care.

You open your eyes for the first time in a long time. You peer up at Michael’s face. His dark lashes are pressed shut now, drawn together gently in a delicate balance that you suspect might be offset by something as faint as a draft. He is not asleep.

You can change that.

Your right arm is numb and tingly from disuse as you reach up for Michael’s neck. You bury your hand delicately between the couch cushion and his nape. Your nails meet the base of his neck to stroke and knead between his curls which fit like rings around your fingers. You pet Michael like you love him.

What remains of Michael’s alertness dissolves into your tender touch.

His eyes twitch beneath their lids as you trace his scalp. Your breath catches in anticipation of those icy eyes snapping open, latching onto your face with a penetrative stare. Michael’s eyes are hypnotic in the most draining way. His fixed gaze reminds you of your place in the universe; of how tragically far down the food chain you sit. It would perhaps be humbling, if it were not so terrifying.

You are not surprised by your dry eyes as you pet Michael. You had not been expecting any tears, and you still don’t. Not even as it occurs to you that this will be the last time you ever touch him. Not even when you repeat those words in your brain. Not even when they become the syllables on your chapped lips.

Even when you are mouthing your unheard goodbyes to Michael, you find that you have no tears to cry for him.

You try anyway.

You dry heave silently against his sternum for a time. You gasp and shudder. If not for Michael, then for yourself.

The tears do not come out.

Soon, Michael’s head tilts back against the couch.

And his rosy lips part faintly, gently,

and you know that he’s asleep.

You test how deeply. You cautiously snap in his ear—and are met with no reaction. You clap this time, waiting for his eyes to snap open and focus on you dully. Still nothing. The alcohol has claimed him.

Some tiny thought sears through your mind; it’s time.

You slide cautiously off his thighs. Your brain is running on automatic now.

You go into the kitchen. You retrieve a knife and come back. You stand over Michael’s head, gripping the handle with both fists, hovering the blade over his perfectly bared neck, preparing to plunge it swiftly downwards. Your mind is racing. Your hands are quaking. You could put an end to so much suffering here and now; you could spare so many lives from the disaster that is Michael. He would be gone within a minute. He probably wouldn’t even feel it—not while he’s like this. It would be a quicker, easier, and more merciful death than he deserves, and it is a nicer thought than the image of what they’ll do to him when he gets caught, which just by having thought, you fear you might be sick.

You have the power to put Michael down gently tonight. You can do it. You can. You just have to want it.

You recall the ghost of his fingers sweeping across your rawed neck and you tell yourself you want it. You take a deep breath in and out and find that your body aches deeply, bruised and sore all over, and not just from last week. The months of weathering the calamity that is Michael seem to weigh on you all at once. You shudder and shake and tell yourself you want it. You heave and gasp silently. The knife in your hands trembles so hard that you fear you will drop it and wake him.

You want it; you want it like you have never wanted anything. You didn't know what hate was until Michael choked and sliced and squeezed his way into your life and smothered your mind and took yourself from you. You want him gone. You want him out. You want him dead.

Your dangerous fantasy runs rampant for ten more heedless seconds.

Then, with a silent wheeze, you double over and sob quietly into the upholstery.

You could never kill Michael. You could never. The desire to do so is an invasive, unwanted menace. You despise him down to your marrow; but your sick yearning for him is rooted even deeper than bone.

With trembling hands you return the knife to its block in the kitchen. Sinking back down into his lap is a risky endeavor, and you do it anyway, slowly, with the utmost of care. Michael does not wake. You press your face against his chest and grab greedy handfuls of his shirt and heave big wet sobs into his pectoral. You are not going to hurt Michael. You are going to punish his slip-up with just the opposite.

You are going to shower his body with affection in all the ways that would get you bloodily murdered during his conscious moments.

As your eyes roam openly over Michael’s sleeping form, you decide that his exposed skin humanizes him in an uncomfortable way. You do not consciously associate his coveralls with his illusionary identity as something predatory, as something more than human, but the association is there nonetheless. The coveralls cover his skin like the mask covers his face. Neither conceal Michael’s truest nature—both expose him for what he is.

For such a predator to shuck away his coverings and bare his human skin seems almost slanderous to you, a poetic injustice, a violation of the natural order of things, a disturbing display of humanity which he has no business dabbling in.

And what you think does not matter. Here is your monster: Half-naked. Drunk off his ass. Woefully vulnerable. It is a grotesquely human fate, one he wears like an ill-fitting coat. You despise how humanity looks on Michael.

And you despise how quick you are to drink it all in.

The tears linger in your eyes as you reach for his neck and envelop as much of its thick circumference as you are able. Your thumb settles lightly over the bulge of his Adam’s apple. As he draws breath, swallowing against your hand, his cartilage bobbing beneath your fingers, you shudder. Michael’s neck is not a place you are allowed to touch. To do so is to flip your dynamic of predator and prey on its axis—to do so is to upset the balance of nature itself.

You explore his throat as eagerly as he had done yours.

Michael’s pulse pounds against your fingers like an animal determined to break free of its cage. Powerful, unstoppable. You feel foolish for even having considered trying. You let it throb against your hand for a time, hypnotized by the fact of his living, his warmth, his momentary vulnerability, his sheer existence.

You become braver, then. Your second hand moves to join the first, and you cup Michael’s neck with a tenderness that he has never offered you. He is gone, you tell yourself, buried in sleep, and you need not fear him. You can have your way with him.

With this confidence you begin to knead Michael’s shoulders. Your touch is slow and your squeezing is careful. You move from his clavicle to his bicep, working your thumb over the knots wherever you encounter them with the deftness of a potter. You gauge Michael’s reaction as you work; you wait for that flicker of awareness on his restful face that would halt your massage in its tracks. Instead, his head slumps deeper into the couch cushions. His eyes roll beneath their lids, but his awareness never comes. He is entirely yours.

You touch Michael everywhere. His shoulders, his chest, his obliques, his naked thighs. He is sore in many places; you can always tell where because his lips part slightly in response, exposing his glinting teeth for an instant, then falling into restfulness again as you ease the knots of tension away. You know that you are playing with the hottest fire as you massage Michael without his permission. You are also too far along to quit.

As you bundle up greedy handfuls of his worn undershirt, rolling it slowly up and over his hips, over his ribs, his pectorals, you know your curiosity is reaching stupid heights. Come down now, you tell yourself, before you plummet and splat on the sidewalk; in other words, before Michael wakes up and strangles you into unliving.

Then your eyes glue to his exposed torso and your rational thoughts are swept away like a paper boat in a flood.

Rarely have you seen Michael naked. Even when you tempt him into the shower he does not bother to strip, finding it fit instead to unzip himself down to his cock and drench his coveralls until they sit slick against his muscles, hinting at his form—but not revealing it in its entirety.

It occurs to you that Michael is beautiful.

You allow your gaze to linger on the wide muscles of his torso before pressing your hands flat against his steadily rising abdomen, shuddering at his too-warm skin, drinking in his strength and power with your fingertips. You note a few things about his body to satiate your curiosity; his belly button goes in instead of out. His dark pubic hair is as curly as the hair atop his head. And he has more scars than you had ever noticed.

The ones littering his arms and abdomen and chest are glossy and round and pink and you know, somehow, without knowing for sure, that they are bullet wounds. You feel around the perimeter of one rubbery scar on his oblique, and think, this gun did not stop him—this did not put him in the ground. It did not even take him off his feet for long enough to be captured and contained. What Michael is will never be contained; not by walls, and not by bullets. He will follow his dark instinct until he breathes his last.

The thought has tears springing to your eyes all over again. Michael is hardly human; and yet, he is bitterly so. He is nature’s harsh truth. Michael, you muse, is the part of humanity that we have stuffed deep down over countless millennia and denied a voice. He is a force of uncivilized, wild, primal nature. He is the inevitability of the Earth. When the rest of us are gone, he is what will prevail.

You decide all at once that you would like to know what it is like to hug Michael. And now your head is tilting forward to rest against his sternum, and you are wrapping your arms around his thick middle, and without really thinking about it you are hugging him, as tight as a lover, and though you know he’s worlds away from that, you can pretend.

Michael’s chest grows and shrinks against your embrace. You hug him until he begins to shift agitatedly against the couch, until you can feel his muscles twitching at your confinement, eager to break free, eager even in his unwaking to regain control. You don’t press your luck. Your arms come undone and you let go of his body.

When you pull away from him, your heart stops.

His eyes are open. Staring at you.

You woke him up.

His face is dull and blank, as blank as an empty canvas, completely unreadable. You shiver. In just a moment his gaze will fix on your face and harden like steel, and that dark hunger will creep back into his features, and his suffocating intensity will roll over you like a thundercloud. You wait for Michael to see you.

He blinks like a cat. Watching, considering. But not acting.

Panic spikes your pulse as his hands come suddenly up from the couch. He grips your arms just below your shoulders. You exhale unsteadily, trying and failing to keep your breathing even. You know better than to hope and yet you can’t help yourself; please don’t hurt me, you beg him wordlessly. Please don’t ruin me this time.

Moisture pricks at your eyes as his fingers tighten around your skin, holding you fast.

Your world pitches sideways as he rolls side-down into the couch and for a moment you are breathless. His startling strength is the only thing not subdued by the alcohol—he sweeps you right down with him.

The claustrophobia is immediate. Behind you, Michael’s head comes to settle on the armrest, and you realize all at once that you are sandwiched now, crowded between the couch cushions and the bulk of his body, crushed against him. His method of restraining you is incredibly escape-proof. He will suffocate you this way.

You breathe and breathe, your ribcage rising and falling snugly against his arm. You suck in air and wait for the precious commodity to run out.

It never does. To your utter dismay, to your sweet relief, you have been spared a little pocket of breathing room between the armrest and the couch cushion.

Michael’s fingers wrap suddenly around your throat. Your heart beats loudly in your ears. When he doesn’t squeeze, you realize that he is not going to hurt you. He only means to hold you. The gesture is a possessive one: you are his, and you are not going anywhere.

Michael does not move after that, and soon he is gone again. You listen to his thumping pulse for a while. You feel his breath, and his heat, and his weight. You know with all your being that your life is not in any danger tonight.

Your eyes droop. Soon, you follow him down, down, down.

#Michael Myers #michael myers x reader #halloween #Slashers #slasher x reader #horror #writing #fanfiction #reader insert

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