#not fucking smoke - i quit two years ago but these last couple weeks have been hard argh..

[infidelady]

I got a shitload to do today and it's gonna be fucking 30+° and my head aches like a bitch and i gotta get up in 6 hours and i can't fucking sleep..

[purplecoffee13]

Kisses to my exes*

Wc: 1k

Warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, degradation, toxic (ex)relationship, Harry being a cocky asshole (what else is new in my fics)

A/N: Hi, so I wrote this blurb a couple of days ago and it was just kinda sitting in my drafts… but sharing is caring so here ya go🤭 enjoy

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Y/N had sworn last time was truly the last time she'd ever do this, and she had meant it when she said it to Harry. So where it really went wrong she couldn't quite place, but she reckoned it had something to do with the amount of drinks she'd downed after spotting him at that bar tonight.

Harry and Y/N broke up three years ago; different aspirations and such. However, since then, she ran into him at least three times a year, and somehow it would always be the exact times she was finally moving on with someone else.

The first time she ended up in his bed when she was really not supposed to, was about two and a half years ago. She'd had a bad date, ran into him, and that was that. A minor slip-up, she figured. Only it didn't stop there.

Any time she ran into him in a bar, she'd somehow always end up in his bed. It was a curse, she concluded about a year and a half ago. It was the universe fucking with her for whatever evil thing she had probably done in the past.

When about four months ago she ran into Harry again, she truly thought it would pan out differently. After all, she'd been dating a very nice guy for about a month at the time, and it was going really well. And still... still she ended up waking up in his goddamn bed the next morning. She broke up with the other guy that same week, feeling absolutely horrible about what she had done. Right then and there, she decided that that was the last time. Harry was making a bad person out of her and she needed to put an end to the madness.

When she saw Harry tonight and decided to approach him, it wasn't at all with the intention to end up with him drilling into her, but the exact opposite. She found him outside, smoking a cigarette, and when he flashed that signature smile of his at her, she couldn't help but march towards her ex.

"I just want you to know that I hate you, and I'm done with you." She grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at him. His eyebrows raised slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up. It frustrated her that he clearly didn't seem to take her seriously.

He'd only nodded, muttered an 'alright', and Y/N had found herself stunned. She'd expected him to argue with her; just have at least some sort of reaction. But he didn't, not really, so she walked into the bar and began to drink the embarrassment away.

After her third drink, Y/N excused herself from her friends and went to the bathroom. Upon returning, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the wall.

"What the fuck was that?" Harry growled at her, and Y/N smiled, glad to finally have an ounce of emotion from his side.

"I told you, I'm done with you and this back and forth bullshit." She said proudly, but Harry didn't look the slightest bit convinced. She swallowed when he leaned in closer, his hand inching up her inner thigh.

"Are you?" He tilted his head, fingers grazing over her increasingly wet panties. She still got soaked easily at the sight of him, even the smell of his perfume could make her go crazy. Y/N didn't dare to move or to speak, hoping he would continue his movements. Unfortunately for her, he backed off.

"I'm going home." He said in a bored tone, and turned around to walk back into the crowd and probably to the exit. Y/N blinked for a couple of seconds before turning on her heels and following Harry. She took a de-tour, saying she was going to smoke a cigarettes with a friend she'd ran into, and headed for the exit.

And now she was in his car, bouncing on his cock and fogging up the windows. Her tits pressing against Harry's face, she moved with a determination to please him. She'd always had that when it came to him. It felt good to make him feel good. She let out a string of moans at each thrust, feeling him deep inside her belly.

"Good girl." He grunted, the vibration running over her chest, and she gasped at the sting on her right ass cheek. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, she savored the burn, and took the brunt of another one.

"I'm gonna cum—" she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as she began to increase her movements. Y/N's fingers moved down to her clit, and she began rubbing on it intensely as she began to chase her orgasm.

"Of course you are." Harry said with such confidence that it could've singlehandedly buckled Y/N's knees. "You always do with me, it's why you keep coming back."

A high pitched moan escaped her throat, trying to handle the physical sensation and the putty that her mind would turn into whenever Harry spoke with those dirty words of his. Another slap hit her cheek.

"You know it's true, you can't get enough of my cock, baby." He said over the sounds of Y/N's approaching orgasm. She swore the car was moving along with them.

"Doesn't matter if you tell me it's the last time, or that you're done with me, you always end up letting me fuck you stupid anyway." He rasped, and it was enough for Y/N to fall apart. She cried out, the high hitting her like a goddamn truck, and she gushed all over his legs. Her breathing was erratic and heavy, and she was not at all prepared for Harry to suddenly start thrusting up into her.

"You always come back to me. Wanna know what I think of that?" He asked, voice surprisingly stoic despite the heavy movements. Y/N felt like she was going cross-eyed. She was so sensitive, but this was typical Harry; always pushing her limit. Gathering every ounce of energy she had left, she muttered out:

"W— what?"

Harry's lips pulled up into a shit eating grin, looking up at her with those irresistible green eyes of his.

"I think that means you're mine, forever."

General taglist: @mema10

[14thcommander]

loml | hange x reader

summary: the first time hange sees you after your breakup.

cw: 1k words, and listen this is angst okay. open ending. smoking and swearing. both of them are bitter af. no beta we die like hange: scared but willingly. recommended songs for listening while reading this: cowardice by defeater, loml by taylor swift and/or such small hands by la dispute. enjoy!

Hange has managed to avoid you for a few of months now.

It didn’t really manage to soothe the ache in their heart, almost as if the phantom of your relationship still existed around Hange. Traces of you left behind the scene of their heartbreak, a couple of lipsticks in the bathroom, a Polaroid of your smile attached to the fridge. There isn’t a day in which Hange wakes up in a cold bed and not misses the feeling of your body next to theirs.

“Tch, gotta at least pretend a little. You look miserable.”

Levi’s mellow voice doesn’t hurt them, and Hange notices how he hasn’t used any insults to address them for the past couple of weeks.

There’s music and chatter filling the air, making Hange feel exhausted at the thought of interacting with people alone. They are hiding in the balcony, with Levi by their side. Smoking seemed like a good reason to excuse themselves from the conversation.

“Well, Sherlock, I am miserable.” Hange mumbles, cigarette dangling from their lips. “Shit, where’s my lighter?”

Before Hange can look in their pockets, Levi fishes a silver lighter from his own, handing it to them. A muttered thanks is all he gets in return.

It was Nanaba’s birthday celebration, a dinner slash party slash event happening at the shared house of Miche and Nana. The thought of the happy couple only makes the pain more sour.

“You sound like a fucking emo teenager. What is this, 2006?”

Needless to say, they weren’t handling the break up very well. They wonder if you were affected by it at all. It’s been, what, three months?

In the meantime, Hange’s hair got messier. Dark circles now adorned their brown eyes. They picked up the bad habit of smoking again, one they had dropped when they were a graduate — the reason they quit in the first place was your breathing issue. Was it bronchitis?

Everything is blurry lately.

Hange hears Levi mutter yet another curse word under his breath, but they think none of it. Smoke enters and leaves their lungs, slowly poisoning their body.

“Smoking kills, you know.”

The sound of your voice makes Hange momentarily freeze in place, as their brain short circuits at the sound of the words you once told them years ago.

Slowly, awfully slowly, they turn around, being met with the sight of you.

You got a haircut since the last time you saw each other, and it suits you perfectly. There’s a guilty smile playing on your lips, painted in a color they haven’t seen you wear before. Something darker, edgier. After all, your favorite lipstick was left at Hange’s place.

“Yeah, too bad.” It’s what they come up with, taking another drag, blowing the smoke towards the open air, in order to avoid it reaching you.

There’s a beat of silence, and you get closer.

What now? Hange thinks. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

Perhaps they should have been nicer, more gentle.

You give them a chuckle, followed by “It doesn’t smell good, either.”

It was a far friendlier response than what they originally expected.

“I’ll leave you two to it.” Levi states, before discarding his own cigarette in the ashtray. It was awkward enough as it is. “Figures.”

Silence weighs heavy between the two of you, the tension so thick it barely allows you to move — but you do. Of course you do. While Hange is curious and erratic, manic even, you manage to be the reckless one in this relationship. Did, actually.

“How you’ve been?” You dare to ask, and Hange almost gasps in disbelief.

Their dark eyes find yours as they bury the remains of the cigarette in the ashtray. Something inside them snaps, thinking about how this seems like a scene straight out of a nightmare.

“The usual. You?”

Their stab seems to reach your heart, from the look on your face, and it almost pains them. Almost.

“Well, uh… still living in Petra’s guest room. Working a lot. You know, stuff.”

Hange chuckles in return. They know damn well about stuff — crying before sleeping, not being able to eat from how much they miss you, smoking for breakfast. Stuff.

“Stuff. Yeah, I know.”

A glean around your neck makes them notice how you are still wearing the necklace they gave to you, the jewelry reflecting the moonlight. It was Hange’s birthstone or something like that. Something they didn’t understand why you liked, but still gifted it to you in order to make you happy.

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence. Another piece of their heart dropping on the floor, cracking like glass.

“Was wondering if you’d like to, um, catch up or something. I miss you.”

They chuckle again.

“Sweetheart.” They fully turn their face to you, seeing you standing closer than they thought you were. The sound of the old nickname tastes bitter on their tongue. “You are the one who decided to call it quits. You don’t have to make small talk out of pity.”

You make a sound that seems like something between a scowl and a sigh, avoiding Hange’s somber eyes.

“I don’t pity you. Believe it or not, I don’t see you as a victim-”

“Excuse me?”

“although I do regret what I did. I was fucking depressed and didn’t want to be a burden to you. I’m sorry, I realize I fucked up. All I’m asking for is a second chance to make this right, to take care of you again. And, you know, let you take care of me too.”

Hange sighs. You blink at them.

“I really am sorry, Han. I wanna make this work. These past months have been the worst of my life. I regret breaking up every single day.”

Hange stares at your moonlight glazed eyes, nodding.

“Yeah. Guess we can go out for coffee or something.”

[lifeinahole27]

I promise I'm alive

Eventually, I'm gonna sit down and write out where I've been for the last six months. I owe a huge apology to @grimmswan for never finishing her Christmas fic, first and foremost. And mostly I just wanted to let everyone know I'm still around. Here's the Sparknotes:

Last June, I got passed over for a promotion to AGM at the hotel I was working at. I was promoted instead to "Front Office Manager" and finally got to move to a daytime schedule after we found a new auditor to replace me.

On September 1, I had to fire my first employee ever - that same auditor that I was so excited to replace me - and so that was a fun experience. It meant that I was back to splitting audit duties with the other guy.

We tried to get one of the other desk agents to learn audit. The first attempt did not go well. He was supposed to cover during the weekend of my brother's wedding when I was off work and I genuinely don't remember how we worked the schedule for that now, but I know it was tenuous for a minute.

That same guy that didn't do well on the audit quit via text message the week of Thanksgiving, when the General Manager was on vacation, essentially fucking the rest of us for the rest of the week. He was my best friend at the job. I have not spoken to him since.

At Christmastime, the AGM essentially yelled at me as if I was a child for correcting her on something that she was doing improperly. Her mindset was that she had been working (at another property) for 15 years so she knew how to do her job and there's more than 1 way to do something and I needed to accept that. (Fun sidenote: I had been at that property for almost 4 years and she was doing something wrong. That's the fun thing about different properties. What works at one may not work the same at another.)

After that incident, I was job hunting. I finally got to go to a Christmas luncheon at this hotel (I was always working audit in the years before, so I had never gone before) but I was so miserable the entire time I was there but did a great job acting.

I was forced to work until 12:30am on NYE because my manager was convinced it was going to be a busy day. As I had worked NYE twice before and J had worked it once, we knew it was not going to be busy enough for two people. But still I was forced to work the one day I hate working (thanks to SA memories) and that was the final straw for me.

On January 4, I got a call from the company I had applied to at the recommendation of one of my previous GMs from my old hotel. A few days later, I did a pre-interview/info session with the Talent Manager. Two days after that, I did my interview with a group of managers. And on January 10, I handed in my notice to the hotel.

January 30, I left the hotel at 7:15am, no longer employed by it.

On February 6, I flew out to Denver and spent a week with a BFF I made in the CS community. We had a writers' retreat while I housesat for my sister while she was on vacation. I flew home on February 13 and got my company issued computers set up.

I started the new employment on February 14. My entire upstairs is almost completely renovated after three months of working on it after 7 years of depression. I have quit smoking. I am slowly getting my writing mojo back. My GP and therapist are both astonished at how happy I am.

In the months since I left, I have fully realized that I was essentially being abused at my last job. I was just so driven by my goals there that I was willing to excuse all of the bullshit in hopes of making it in my career. I asked for my vacation time a couple months ago and no one guilt-tripped me because I'm going on vacation in June. I told them I would be happy to take my laptop and work while I'm there and they told me to not even think about it. To go have fun and enjoy my vacation.

I don't know what all of this means for my CS writing. I don't know if that will come back. I would like to. I would love to finish some projects that are half-written. I would love to do another year of cards and finish that not-so-secret santa fic for @grimmswan. I just have to be a little more patient with myself and see what happens.

Okay, that wasn't as short as I expected it to be, because I guess it was a lot. Anyway, hi everyone. This is the happiest I've been since 2015. I'm happy to be back. <3

[dualita]

system-related rambles lurk below

So a while ago, something bad happened. Bad as in retraumatizing.

Life has sucked this year. I don't want to go into detail about why. I've been in an awful mental illness spiral for months, and while I'm not in the worst of it anymore, it's still been bad.

But this event? It was genuinely retraumatizing.

I had a strong emotional reaction that lasted for several days. Then I spent a day in damage control mode, and I spent a week forcibly turning my emotions off. It was involuntary at first, then became voluntary. I managed to keep everything turned off for almost a week when I can normally manage only several hours at a time. It's a coping mechanism that I've been told is unhealthy, but at times like this, it's very much necessary.

Then I got high practically 24/7 for a while. I mean this literally. Every waking moment outside of work, I was high. I hadn't smoked in months and I hadn't smoked regularly in years. I just needed to escape because I couldn't shut the feelings off anymore.

Anyway, I may or may not have a new person in my system now. I woke up one day with no particular emotions towards the event and no desire to get high, but it didn't feel like my emotions were turned off. The event just didn't bother me. I had a strong desire to clean? And my bedroom felt foreign, which is usually a sign that my protector woke up fronting. But it did not feel like him at all.

So the person that was fronting immediately start trying to talk to our protector because "what the fuck, bedroom feels foreign and I'm not you, I don't even feel blended with you." They came to the conclusion that it was a new bitch. She fronted for just a few hours that day, and since then she's only fronted for an hour once. All she wants to do is cook and clean. Funny part is, my protector actually stepped into a caretaker role this year, but those were the two areas that he had trouble keeping up with along with all his other responsibilities for our system. He does enjoy taking on an emotional support role and caring for the body, but hates cooking and cleaning.

We spent quite some time wishing we had someone to ease his burden and she is the epitome of "be careful what you wish for." I don't like her all that much. I'm hoping she's just temporary or something because she really is a bitch.

But there's something else that's weird. I don't have that much of a response to the event anymore. I haven't needed to get high or turn all my emotions off. I still do feel some things, sometimes. A burst of intense rage or sadness that comes through for a minute or so. And it goes away.

The only conclusion that makes sense to me is someone else in my system is carrying it now. Except it's not her, because she feels absolutely nothing about it. It's not my protector either. Communication isn't great with the others. It could be one of them. I have no fucking idea who. There's not many of us, so the options are limited.

This is the first time that something like this has happened after accepting that I'm a system. Both in terms of possibly a new alter showing up (hadn't split in six years) and in terms of "okay who the fuck took my trauma." Because someone took my trauma. I know my protector did that when he split from me and on a couple other occasions. But who the fuck did it this time? I know for a fact it's not the new girl, so where the fuck did it go? I'm not complaining, I'm actually REALLY fucking grateful, it's just bizarre.

So. Yeah. I don't know where I'm going with this, other than "holy shit it is really weird to know I'm a system and watch my feelings about a new trauma go the fuck away and understand what probably happened to them while not knowing exactly what happened."

it's not that this hasn't happened before. It absolutely has, but when it did, I didn't know or accept that I was a system yet. So it was more of a hindsight thing (and a "talking with my systemmates" thing). It's really fucking weird to have it happen and know exactly what it is. Jarring and strange. I would have just written it off before, but now I'm like... who took it? Because yeah, I remember what happened, but I feel so disconnected from it and the intense emotions only show up for thirty seconds or so, if at all. The tell-tale signs for me that someone else has it. So who the fuck has it?

Anyway this is what keeps me up at night lately.

[aita20bucks]

@am-i-the-asshole-official

Thank y'all for helping me get a little closure on this. It really did feel absolutely bonkers at the time and for a while after, and I'm autistic so I always wondered if I really did fuck up, like, if there was some huge social faux pas involved that I didn't know about, or if it really was as extreme as I thought it was.

Here's some additional context for some comments and any future voters that I thought was too long for the original ask, or that might have biased things in my favor/against C.

(tw: drugs)

- A comment mentioned maybe C was dating B or getting territorial; C was gay, I'm a lesbian, and B was straight. They didn't have anything going on but they were extremely close, B called him her brother and me her sister, but yeah it could still have been a jealousy thing. I don't think he liked sharing B.

- A comment pointed out this is one of those that sounds so crazy op has to be lying, and I can see that now with this input, but this is everything I remember about the situation and I did spend a long time assuming I was at least partially at fault.

- B and C were really into ecstasy when they could afford it, and that was what C wanted to do that day. B and I smoked weed together and I trusted her, so I figured I'd try it once. Idk if I just got a dud or what, but it just didn't do much for me. C said I 'killed the vibe' by asking questions like 'when's it supposed to do something' after they'd already been rolling a while

- C eventually pressured B into trying meth with him a couple weeks before all this went down (I didn't know this until the end)

- a comment did note it seemed a bit extreme to cut off B for this, and they're right there was a little more to it. I absolutely Do Not Fuck With Meth as a rule, and when she came to my house and we had that last argument that's when she told me about what they'd been doing. She said she really liked it and didn't see the harm in messing with it "a little," and swore she'd stop before any side effects/addiction. She didn't know if the harassment had happened while they were/he was high, but that it had "changed him" a little so I couldn't confirm it had anything to do with this directly but now that I know I wasn't the weird one here, yeah it was probably just the meth lol

- I didn't care if she wanted to do that on her own/with C, but she couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't be on it around me/wouldn't want to "share" it with me like the molly/wouldn't dabble in other shit like heroin. She was really upset about being "forced to choose" but didn't want to quit, so she did have some agency in ending things.

- A happy ending for B though: this whole thing was nearly two decades ago now so long since over, but I did look her up on FB once several years after, and she looked happy and healthy and had started a family. I like to think she did eventually move past the chaos at some point and I genuinely hope she does have a great life, she deserves it.

AITA for trying to repay a small debt through a mutual third party?

This happened a long time ago, but I sometimes remember it and still think 'wtf' so I wanted to see if I was actually TA here.

At the time, my friend "B" was good friends with both myself and "C." B really wanted us to all hang out together, I'd never met C. After a while we finally did hang out once, and C insisted on doing something out of my budget. He also insisted that he would loan me the $20 and I could just pay him back later. I didn't want to accept at first because I wasn't sure when I would see him again to repay him, but he told me I was being a buzzkill and to just accept, so I did.

Several months went by and I indeed never saw C again, but a situation arose where I helped B out by giving her a place to crash for a while, and when she left she really wanted to repay me somehow but said she could only afford $20 at that time. I told her not to worry about it but she wouldn't let it go, so I said that if it was that important to her to pay me back, she could just forward that $20 on to C since she saw him frequently and we'd all be even.

A few days later C used her phone to start blowing me up with texts about how I was the absolute biggest asshole for trying to "force B to pay my debts" and "taking advantage of her," that I was a "coward" for not doing it in person, that I was "irresponsible" and a "loser" and a "leech," told me B actually hated my guts and how they both loved to make fun of me together, etc etc. I tried to explain but he wouldn't stop, so I just blocked her number.

A few more days later, B showed up at my house crying, saying she didn't agree with anything he said and that she didn't want to lose me, that she and C had gotten into some harder stuff that "changed him into an asshole" and to "not take it personally, he's really a nice guy," etc, but avoided directly answering when I asked why she let him use her phone to harass me about it, or if she agreed that I should have just taken her money and then tried to meet him somewhere to pass it on to him myself even though she saw him almost every day. I told her I was done with the drama and didn't want to be involved with whatever they had going on. Never saw her again.

Was I the asshole to try to repay $20 through a mutual friend?

What are these acronyms?

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#269

“C’mon in. Don’t be embarrassed. When we were talking in the bar, I told you that I’m looking for a service boy and servant, this is what I am talking about. I want to be comfortable throughout my day. I don’t plan on hiding anything due to some social norm, nor do I want to. You’re just going to have to deal with it. You can start to deal by kneeling in front of me, knees spread, with your head bowed….

“Last night you mentioned that when you were discharged from the Navy a couple of weeks ago, that you felt lost with no direction. Hell, you barely have a roof over your head. I took you home to see how well you take my cock. Well, not good. Not surprising considering how thick my cock is. You will need training—lot of it. Starting with, when I place you in a position, keep it. My cock in your ass needs to be at the right angle to give me the most pleasure. You will need to quit fidgeting. Just go with it.

“What impresses me about you is how you naturally fit into the servant role. Keep that mindset up. Clearly that comes from your time in the Navy. If you have been one of those pushy bottoms, —or what do they call them now, power bottoms,—it would not have ended well.

“Like I told you last night, I served 12 years as a captain. I can tell you that the time in service to the country never leaves you. You need to harness that continued willingness to submit to authority. Channel it. Let it serve you here. I will require nothing less. I’ve been looking for a boy that will carry out my orders without question, just like in the Navy.

“Last night you demonstrated that. Is that something you can live with on a permanent basis? You want to service me 24/7?...

“Good! Let’s start off by understanding that I am always in control of every aspect of my life: from my home to my consulting work, to my motorcycles, to my cigars, and to the boys I fuck.

“Inhale deeply. That’s from this cigar I was gifted by a client. It’s supposedly from a private collection of an exclusive maker. It tastes like shit. It’s a good thing we are in the toilet. The smoke has a better smell.

“You are inhaling deeply. That’s good. What do you know about cigars, other than it makes your wang hard when a real man smokes one sitting on the can in front of you?... Figured. You will be required to be educated in every aspect. I need a boy who will manage my collection. I want you to be to the point that you can recommend a smoke based on my mood and what I am doing, like what goes well with an afternoon scotch or what goes well on a bike run or even what cigar goes well with a blumpkin.

“Do you know what a blumpkin is? It’s when a man gets blown while he’s using the toilet. Yeah, move your mouth here. Reach in and pull my cock out. Get to work. I’m going to enjoy whatever I can out of this rather bland cigar.

“I expect a blumpkin every time I sit on the toilet. I want you to get to the point where you believe that my shit don’t stink. I’m not into shit, so don’t worry about that.

“Now, what you are wearing is all you will wear around here. Just a tightly fit T-shirt, cropped just above the pubic line. That’s referred to as ‘shirtcocking,’ that is wearing a shirt that does not hide your exposed pecker and ass. It gives me uncovered access to my toys when I want to. Yes, they do belong to me. I’m not going to put you in a chastity cage. There’s no way I am going to cover up such a beautiful cock, or that perfect ass. I have an at home gym in the basement, you will maintain your physique and ass. Every day, I want to see your ripped lean body filling out that shirt with a plump meaty fuckable ass exposed underneath it. I’m going to get you a script for Cialis, I want you to have a perpetual hard-on, or at least be semi-hard, throughout the day.

“Yes, you will be able to play with yourself, but no cumming without me allowing it. Pretty much the only time that that usually happens when my spent sloppy deflating cock is being cleaned off in your mouth. You still will need permission though, but that’s the best time to ask, pretty much the only time

“Speaking of cleaning, your job is to clean this place spotless. I will break out the white glove from time to time. You will cook. I want this house to run as smooth as if we were both back in the Navy. You will treat me like the officer I am. That includes saluting me. I expect a full sharp salute from you, none of this pansy-assed shit I see out there.

“Oh man, your mouth feels good. You are doing a better job on all fours in front of me than you did last night. Open your throat, I need to take a piss…. Also, I don’t usually announce when I do that. I mean why would a man walk up to a porcelain urinal and announce he’s going to piss in it?... You’ve drank piss before, haven’t you?... I knew it. You will need to fill me in on the details of that. Later.

“Fuck boy. You really are a natural at this. I would never have guessed it from last night. You were a bit drunk. Well you don’t have to worry about that. You will not drink alcohol from this point on, unless it’s in the form of my piss.

“While I am thinking of you in the bar last night, I saw you cruising the bathroom frequently. That’s going to stop. I am in control of you. I’ll decide later if it will be full monogamy from you, or partial with the caveat that I decide who and when. Get this, monogamy to me is not a two way street. I will certainly not be monogamous to you, bring boys home to fuck whenever I feel like. You will not only accept it, but you will welcome it.

“No fucking jealousy. In fact, I want you turned on to me satisfying my pleasure. Your hole should pucker every time you know I am balls deep in another boy’s ass. And after he leaves, I want you to beg to clean his juices off my cock, no matter how nasty.

“Speaking of nasty. You can stop with the blumpkin. You did well with that.

“Lay on your back. I’m ready for the clean-up. Every blumpkin ends with you eating my ass clean. I control the fiber in my diet enough so that I don’t require toilet paper, and wiping is merely a courtesy. So I should be clean. But if not, don’t mention it. Instead put that tongue to good use and clean me up.”

[hanniiesuckle17]

All I Want For Christmas

A/n: so this started off as a blurb......then i got carried away.......so.......happy christmas everyoneeeee also HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO MY SECRET SANTA GIFT PARTNER !!!!!! (also this is not thoroughly edited I'm soso sorry )

For: @hansoulmin  HAPPY CHRISTMAS BABY!!! I was your secret santa! I hope you like it! 

Tag List: @ashisparanoid @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert​ @hoes4hoseok​ @yangomangos​ @jeonqqin​ @geminirules​ @crscendoforsung​ @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies​ @hannie-squirrel00​ @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @strykiss​ @skzwriternet​

Warnings: cussing, lots of sexual tension maybe...idk

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: Minho and Y/n have never gotten along for reasons unknown to anyone. After circumstances arose, Y/n is stuck with Minho driving him up to the cabin the boys rented. It seems that things go terribly wrong at every turn as Y/n is kept from her long desired Christmas vacation. Will she be able to change Minho’s mind about Christmas....and possibly his view on her? 

Genre: Christmas au, enemies to lovers au, fluff, romance, slice of life au, forced to share bed trope, Fem reader

❅

Out of all people, the universe seemed to only choose you to throw misfortune on. You were nice. Some might even call you kind and selfless! You were by all means a good person! So why? Why out of all the eight other people going on this vacation did you have to stay behind a day and drive Satan’s spawn up to the cabin?

Lee Minho was a grown man of twenty two years. He should be able to drive himself! Also what was his deal? The rest of the boys had cleared their schedule for a week and a half of Christmas vacation.What was so important he had to delay your winter getaway as well?

The frigid winter wind bit at your skin, latching onto the soon disappearing warmth. You rolled your eyes watching the coat clad form of Minho come down the stairs of the entertainment building at a painstakingly slow pace. You had no clue why, but ever since you met, Minho had been nothing but cross and hateful towards you, and it seemed like he had no intention of changing. 

“Y/n.” Minho said coldy, tossing his duffel bag into my arms. 

“Satan.”

‘Clever.”

Deciding to be the bigger person, you securely placed his bag along with yours in the trunk and walked over the the driver’s side. The door slammed shut as Minho sunk into the passenger seat. “This is going to be a long ride,” you mumbled. 

An hour into journey and your prediction was already coming true. The two of you sat in awkward uncomfortable silence. Minho stared out the window seemingly unphased by the unwieldy tension. “Should I turn on some music?” You asked, reaching for the radio.

“No. It will just make things uncomfortable.”

You scoffed, retracting your hand. “I don’t see how it can get more uncomfortable than this.” Minho rolled his eyes turning to look at you. 

“It will be annoying for me when you start singing along to the radio and I have to tell you how utterly shit your voice is.” There was no hiding the scowl on your face. Your grip tightened on the steering wheel. Only five and half more hours with this asshole. 

You sighed, glancing over at the man in your car. He was messing around on his phone, completely ignoring you. It was like the conversation you had only a few seconds ago had never happened. “Look. I know you hate me and you definitely aren’t my favorite person either.” No response came from Minho. He simply rolled his eyes. “What was so important that you had to delay my Christmas vacation? Don’t you like Christmas? What possibly would be worth setting back such an amazing holiday?”

Hearing no response you looked over at Minho in question. He was looking out the window with a rather pointed scowl. “Not everyone loves Christmas.”

“What? Everyone loves Christmas! Christmas is the best time of the year!”

“Well, not me. I don’t like Christmas.”

“WHAT?!”

You turned to him eyes wide. “Hey! Eyes on the road!” Minho grabbed the steering wheel and jerked the car back into the right lane. “What’s so wrong about not liking Christmas?” Light snow flurries began to fall on the windshield. “Christmas is just another stupid holiday. There’s nothing special about it. Plus it’s cold.”

“Maybe you really are satan....” You mumbled under your breath. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.....I just can’t believe you hate Christmas...”

❅

Two painful hours later you were driving your impossible passenger down a long stretch of snow filled road. The windshield wipers screeched as they pushed snow off the glass. The storm had really picked up as you drove further out of the city. The roads were icy and you did your best to keep your old run down car from drifting. 

“How much longer?” Minho sighed, resting his head on the cool glass. 

“Quite a bit-” BANG!

Suddenly, it was much harder to control your car. You felt a rumble in the back wheels. Minho shot up in his seat. “Wait- what the fuck is going on?” Easing your foot off the gas, you pulled over onto the side of the empty road. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Hitting your steering wheel, you tried to hold back your frustration. Tears pricked at your eyes, begging to spill over. There was no way you were going to cry in front of Lee Minho. Couldn’t one thing go your way this year? As if this wasn’t bad enough, a loud bang came from your engine and smoke started spilling from the hood. “Fuck...” 

Defeated, you let your head fall onto the wheel. A long continuous blast came from the car horn. Minho grimaced, covering his ears. “Can you like....stop?” You turned to look at him. Feeling even more dejected under his gaze you lifted your head, ceasing the blaring noise. 

Taking a moment to gather your emotions, you blew out a shaky breath. “Just....stay in the car, I guess. Not like you’re gonna help anyway.”

Jerking open the car door, you stepped out onto the snowy road. Deciding to look at the hopefully less damaged part of your car, you wrapped your coat further around your body and walked to the back of your car. Just like you thought, the rear left tire was completely blown out. 

“I knew my car was shit, but I thought it was going to last at least another two years.”

Now it was time to face the music, or rather the smoke. Snow falling at a fast pace, you shuffled through the cold and around to the front of your car. Raising the hood more smoke rose into the winter air. Looking around you saw it was getting darker. You had told Chan you and Minho would be at the cabin the boys rented by dinner time. It was already six o’clock.

A quick glance under the hood was enough to tell that this car was going no where. Brain trying to solve the prediciment you somehow ended up in, you crouched down and attempted to come up with a way out of the situation. So deep in thought, you didn’t even hear the sound of the passenger door opening and closing. 

“I’m assuming you can’t fix this.”

Looking up you saw Minho standing over you. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets and white snow flurries floated onto Minho’s dark brown hair. “Do you just assume I’m useless at everything?” Minho rolled his eyes. The man turned around and opened the trunk. He returned with your bag as well as his. 

“Come on.” Not even casting a glance your way, Minho tossed your bag at your kneeling figure. The momentum sent you falling onto your butt, the wet cold snow immediately seeping through the one warm layer you were wearing. 

“Where the fuck are you going?”

“There’s a hotel a couple miles away.” Minho said holding up his phone. 

Pushing yourself off the ground you grabbed the bag and hurried to catch up with the sulky hateful man who was already walking further into the snowfall. “Are you serious?” You questioned, trying not to slip on ice. “Hey- Minho! What the fuck, dude?” 

“Come on, idiot. Keep up.”

“Minho! Wait up!”

❅

The sky was almost pitch black by the time the two of you made it to the hotel. Whether it was from the snow clouds or time you weren’t sure. Minho had not bothered to wait for you. He was already through the sliding doors of the building before you had reached the hotel’s driveway. “Selfish jerk.” You mumbled, dragging your bag through the rising snow. 

You did your best not collapse as you were embraced by the warm heating in the hotel lobby. Minho was brushing the show from his hair as he confidently approached the front desk. The clerk greeted him with a friendly smile. 

“Hi. We need two rooms please.”

Her smile faltered a little bit. “I’m so sorry, sir.” She wrung her hands together, keeping that hospitality smile on her face. “With the snowstorm, almost every room is booked.” Minho sighed, casting an annoyed glare your way. 

“Are you sure?” 

After catching your breath, you joined the singer at the desk. The lady typed away on her computer. Looking over, you could see red boxes by all the rooms she scrolled through. “I’m so sorry, sir. But all but one of our rooms is booked.”

“We’ll take it.” You jumped in, eager to have any relief from the storm outside. 

She smiled and Minho grumbled something under his breath. “Okay then. Here is the key to our Honeymoon Suite. It’s on the fourth floor at the end of the hall.” There was no stopping the blush flooding your cheeks.

“H-honeymoon suite....?”

“Yes. It’s our last room.” 

Minho snatched the key card from the woman’s hands. “You’ve already said we’ll take it. Stop blubbering and get your stuff.” Grabbing his duffel, Minho began walking towards the elevator with no intention of waiting for you. 

The concierge looked at you with pity. “You’re boyfriend isn’t the nicest...is he?” 

With a scoff you replied, “Believe me, Minho is not my boyfriend.”

Rushing through the lobby, you squeezed through the elevator doors just as they were closing. Minho remained silent as you both rode up to the fourth floor. Your wet feet against the plush carpet was the only sound to be heard as you walked to the end of the hall. 

Before he could slide the keycard, Minho scowled at the heart engraved on the door. The happy beep and green light prompted him to push into the room. His scowl deepened as he flicked on the lights. 

Even with the lights turned on, the room was cast in a warm dim glow. There was only one bed, shaped like a huge heart with rose petals strewn across the duvet. Your eyes widened seeing a tall metal poll in one corner of the room, red light shining down on it. Subsequently a similar color grew on your cheeks. The whole room was lavishly decorated and had several interesting adult objects lying about.

“This is.....”

“What? You can’t handle a little atmosphere, Y/n?” Minho taunted with a smirk. He tossed his bag onto a chair, seeming to enjoy your embarrassed state. 

You sat on the bed only to jump up and scream feeling it move beneath you. “It vibrates?! What the fuck! Who makes a bed that vibrates?!” Minho chuckled, possibly the first time you had ever seen him give anything remotely close to a genuine smile. 

“Not kinky are you, Y/n?” 

You froze. Your hands gripped tightly onto your bag and you pulled it higher to cover your chest in embarrassment. “Regardless, there is no way I’m sleeping on that thing.” He shrugged and flopped onto the bed, rose petals flying into the air. He looked rather comfortable, completely unphased by his surroundings. 

“Suit yourself.”

Cautiously, you sat on the plush couch holding your bag like a teddy bear. This was certainly not how you imagined your Christmas. You were so looking forward to spending Christmas with your friends. Decorating the tree. Sitting by the fire in the rented cabin. Eggnog with slightly too much rum. Giving gifts you spent way too much of your paycheck on. Now you were stuck in some hotel sex dungeon with the devil spawn. What a Happy Christmas it was turning out to be. 

❅

After getting used to the room, you showered and changed clothes to leave Minho to do the same. While he cleaned up, you phoned a nearby auto-shop and asked them to tow your car in and fix it. Finally able to resolve the stressful phone call, you let your head fall into your hands. Minho exited the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel. 

Just as you were about to tell him the only slightly good news, the lights shut off. Both of you looked around in confusion. “Minho, did you do this? Is this some kind of prank? Cause, I’m not afraid of the dark.” He shook his head and grabbed his phone from off the dresser, using it as a flashlight. 

It was then you noticed that the room was getting colder by the second. Rubbing your arms, you shuffled over to your bag and grabbed a cardigan. A knock sounded at the door. Sighing, Minho answered it.

“Ah- Mr. Lee! We are so sorry about the inconvenience. It seems the powerlines have frozen over and the hotel has lost all electricity.” A man wearing a bellhop uniform said. Hearing the news, you came to stand next to him. “We are doing our best to get our generator up and running. It seems our heating system is also down.”

“How do you expect us to stay like this?” Minho asked with a cold stare. The man shrunk under his gaze. 

Slapping Minho’s shoulder you pushed him aside. “Stop being a grinch. Thank you so much for letting us know.” The man nodded and pulled a blanket from a nearby cart. You flinched awak from his cold hands as he passed it to you. The poor thing. He must be freezing walking around the halls in his uniform. 

“Here. This extra blanket will help. The hotel will also discount your stay.”

“No, take the blanket. We’ll be fine. You need it more than us. Thank you for doing such hard work!” The man smiled and thanked you profusely before you closed the door. Turning, you found Minho looking at you strangely. “What?”

He looked you up and down before scoffing and turning away. “You’re just so nice to everybody. You’re so gullible.” 

“Gullible?” You couldn’t believe him. “I’m not gullible. It’s called being nice. Have a little Christmas spirit will you.”

He rolled his eyes, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “I already told you. Keep all that Christmas bullshit to yourself. It’s all just an excuse for the tinsel and ornament industry to make money off losers like you.” 

There was no convincing him otherwise, so you simply watched as he pushed back the covers of the bed and climbed in. “Fine. Be a grinch or a Scrooge or a Hans Gruber for all I care.”

“Hans Gruber?” Minho questioned, head popping up in the dark. 

“Die Hard is a Christmas movie too, okay?”

You were shocked to hear a chuckle come from the big heart shaped bed. Sure, you must be imagining things, you took down a rather thin blanket from the closet and headed to your spot on the couch. Your barefeet flinched at every step on the cold hardwood floor. Curling up into a ball on the sofa, helped your body temperature rise a little bit, but you still froze with the tiny blanket you used. Eventually, you fell into a cold restless sleep. 

❅

You awoke to some shuffling in the room. Assuming Minho was getting up to get a glass of water or something you tried to go back to sleep. But, you were puzzled as you heard his footsteps come closer to the sofa. Unsure what he was doing, you pretended to be asleep, wrapping the blanket more around your shivering body. 

“I’m only doing this cause I can’t sleep with all that teeth chattering,” Minho whispered under his breath. “It’s not like I care...” 

Suddenly you felt his long fingers gently reach out for your ankle. Still pretending to be asleep you resisted the urge to flinch away. Brows furrowed and eyes still closed, you tried to figure out what he was doing. Minho tenderly pulled what you imagined to be a pair of his socks over your cold bare feet. Your breath hitched as his soft hands brushed over your skin. He was....being kind? 

Hearing movement, you shut your eyes tighter as Minho pushed himself off the ground. “That should be fine.....” He whispered. You waited, but didn’t hear him walk away. “Why am I even bothering...” Again it seemed like he stayed. After another moment of silence he shifted. 

Surprisingly, you felt his hands reach under your legs and behind your back. He lifted you into the air and pulled you into his chest, carrying you as if you were the most fragile thing he had ever touched. Minho moved across the room before gently placing you on the bed. The covers were pulled up to your chin and you felt him tuck in the fabric around your body. You were shocked to say the least. 

Surprising you further, Minho climbed into bed next to you. His arm cautiously wrapped around your stomach and pulled you flush against his warm chest. You were feeling very conflicted for many reasons. Deciding to test just what was going on, you turned around, eyes still closed, and hugged onto him tighter. You buried your face into his chest. He froze obviously contemplating what to do. 

Hesitantly, like his body was stuttering, he let his arms fall around you in an embrace. You found yourself....content. His scent was comforting. He smelled like amber and some sort of spice you couldn’t quite name. Just as you were about to fall asleep, Minho sighed and let his fingers tenderly stroke your hair.

“This doesn’t mean I like you....” He whispered. There was something in his voice that made you not believe his words. You didn’t have time to think about them, because you were soon lulled into a deep sleep. 

❅

The next morning you woke up to soft white light streaming through the hotel curtains. Minho was still asleep next to you, fingers still tangled in your hair. The room around you was cold, but your body was nothing but warm in Minho’s arms. You smiled remembering Minho’s kind action last night. Not knowing how he would react you decided it might be best if you weren’t in the room when he woke up. 

Each time you moved, you were sure the man was bound to wake up. Finally you swung your legs over the side of the bed. You smiled, looking down and seeing his gray warm socks on your feet. Your eyes widened as realization passed through your mind. 

Did you like Minho?

Looking over at Minho’s sleeping face, you felt your hears start to beat faster. Grasping at your chest, you tried to still your literally beating heart. This was not a problem for now. Minho could wake up any second and you didn’t really want to confront these possible feelings with him awake. 

Sliding into a pair of the hotel slippers, you shuffled to the door, rubbing your arms to keep warm. Slipping the keycard into your cardigan pocket, you closed the door quietly so as not to wake up the sleeping singer just yet. 

“Oh- I am so sorry!” Someone said, bumping into you. 

“It’s fin-...Hey, I know you!” You turned to find the bellhop from the night before. “Has your shift not ended yet?” 

He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “The roads are icy, plus they have everyone staying because of the power situation.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. He seriously was a hard worker. “By the way, we got our back up generator working, but there seems to be something still wrong with the heater.” 

“Don’t worry about it! Minho and I were fine last night so I’m sure the other guests were as well.”

He chuckled. “You’re really nice. You’re like walking Christmas spirit.” You smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh- the kitchen staff managed to scrap together our usual breakfast service downstairs. You should go check it out. It was nice talking to you, Mrs. Lee! Merry Christmas!”

“Oh- I’m not...” But it was too late. The bellhop was already swiftly moving down the hall. 

Deciding to move past the conversation, you headed downstairs to the breakfast buffet. The lobby was full of Christmas decorations; something you had missed last night in your urgent desire to get a room. It made you smile. A reminder that Christmas Eve was tomorrow. 

Following the delectable odor of breakfast food, you wandered into the buffet area and built two plates for you and Minho. Balancing the full platters of food like a professional circus performer, you journeyed back up to the room. By some feat, you opened the door and entered the still freezing room.

Minho sat up in bed, still looking half asleep. “I...I- uh... I brought breakfast. I wasn’t sure what you liked so-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll eat anything warm right now.” 

Wearing a nervous smile, you sat down on the bed across from Minho and handed him a plate. The two of you ate in semi awkward silence, this time for a very different reason. “So-”

“About last night...” Minho started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-...I-...you're teeth were chattering pretty loud and-”

You smiled, stopping his train of thought. You could practically see every word he had planned to say leave his brain. “You don’t have to say anything. Thank you, Minho.” The boy nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at the plate of food.

Another silence followed only slightly less awkward. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Minho’s head raised at your voice. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?” He sighed, shoving a sausage in his mouth and chewing on the savory food. 

“I just never really got the whole Christmas thing. My family never celebrated. Every time we try to get together for the holidays everything just seems to go wrong. Just like how things are going now.” He scoffed picking up another sausage.

“Okay...I can respect that. But...you’re hatred of Christmas seems to be more than that.”

Minho rolled his eyes. Contradicting his actions, he reached over and placed a piece of his toast on your plate. “It’s just....I don’t get it. Like, explain to me what is so great about Christmas.”

You set your plate down with a grin and ate the piece of toast Minho gave you. “I don’t know. I just get this warm feeling around Christmas time. I love seeing all the love that people share. There is just something about Christmas that brings people together. It’s beautiful everywhere and everything is just bright and happy.”

Minho smiled watching you talk. You rambled about all the things you loved about Christmas, from making snowmen to decorating the tree, to watching people unwrap their gifts. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the way you spoke that made his stomach twist in knots. 

At some point you stopped talking and noticed the dazed look on his face. “Did you even listen to me?” You looked down at your lap, slightly disappointed. Not liking the frown on your face Minho quickly nodded his head.

“Yeah, of course.” 

Before he could remedy the tension he accidentally created, your phone rang pulling away your attention. Minho watched you get off the bed and walk away to answer the phone. Your back turned, he started beating himself up about not paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“So, Minho,” You said turning to face him. “That was the auto shop. They said we should be able to pick up the car tomorrow afternoon. Thankfully we’ll be able to see the boys on Christmas Eve!” 

Minho smiled, watching your face light up at the good news. “That’s great.”

❅

After two nights in a hotel, you were finally pulling into the driveway of the rented cabin. It was gorgeous! The huge vaulted roof was covered in snow and the warm wood stood out against the blanketed white backdrop. “Minho,” You said slapping his arm to get his attention as you parked the car. “Look how pretty this is!”

He looked up from his phone, first looking at your bewildered grin, then the lodge in front of you. “Yeah,” You stared in wonder at the place you would be staying for the next week. “Really beautiful.” Turning you found Minho already looking back at you. For some reason, just the way he was looking at you had your stomach doing somersaults.

Pushing your hair behind your ear, you attempted to calm the heat on your cheeks. Both you and Minho awkwardly laughed and looked away from each other. Pressing your hands to your cheeks, you tried to pat away the blush like an idiot. 

“THEY’RE HERE!”

Suddenly, seven rambunctious boys stampeded out of the house and came bounding through the snow to your now fixed car. They pounded happily on the windows and had you not known them, the event would be absolutely terrifying. “Guys, let us out of the car!” Minho shouted with half a laugh. 

Eventually, you were dragged into the cabin by the idols and hugged until your faces turned blue. The inside was even more beautiful than the outside. Everything was made out of wood and there was practically a wall of huge windows overlooking the snow covered forest. 

“What took you guys so long?” Jisung asked hanging off your arm. 

You sighed, ruffling his fluffy hair. Minho watched with a pointed stare. “Well, my piece of junk car broke down and so Minho and I were stuck in a freezing hotel honeymoon suite. but, now we’re here and I cannot wait to start our Christmas vacation!”

“Woah, woah, woah, woah. Back up. Honeymoon suite?” Chan asked with raise brows, looking between Minho and you. The look stopped when Minho made a slice motion across his neck. “Well....um...guys I hate to break it to you, but there's only like 5 rooms and the rest of us have already paired off.”

The band collectively ‘oo-ed’ and started jokingly shoving Minho around. “Think you lovebirds can survive without biting off each other’s heads?” Jisung said jokingly. Obviously he was kidding, but you were blushing more in the last hour than probably ever in your life. 

Thankfully, Chan noticed your embarrassed state and ushered everyone away to let the two of you settle in. Christmas Eve with the rest of Stray Kids was quite possibly one of the greatest nights of your life. By the time everyone retired for the evening, it was almost midnight. Your room was smaller than the hotel suite but shared the commonality of having....one bed. 

While Minho was in the shower, you snuck downstairs to get a better look at the tree Hyunjin, Chan, and Jeongin had put up the other day. The lights twinkled on the real tree that was standing tall in the living room. A fire was raging in the fireplace. The glow of the flames reflected in the red, gold, white, and green ornaments. 

The tree reminded you of the one your parents used to put up when you were little. Feeling the urge to act childish you crawled on your hands and knees until you could lay down under the tree and look up into the lit branches. Resting your hands on your stomach, you smiled looking up at the shiny glass orbs. 

“Y/n?” Minho called out into the wide expanse that was more than an excuse for a living room. “You in here?” Turning your head, you watched his sock feet come down the stairs two at a time. 

“By the tree,”  Through the branches you watched him approach the large Christmas tree. 

Minho chuckled and kicked your leg lightly. “Whatcha doin’ down there, idiot? you look like the Wicked Witch of the East!” He soon regretted the comment as a swift kick was directed at his unprotected calf.  “Ow!” He exclaimed, rubbing his leg. “But, really, what are you doing down there?” 

“You never did this as a kid?” He shook his head. The strong smelling fronds obstructed most of his face from your view, but you could make out the glint of his round spectacles in the firelight. “Come here!” 

Letting out a sigh with an intention you couldn’t decipher, Minho got on all fours before crawling to lay next to you under the Christmas tree. His shoulder brushed up against yours, making your skin tingle. “What’s the point of this?” He whispered after a few moments of staring at the lights. 

Shrugging, you answered, “I don’t know. When I was little, my parents fought a lot. I used to walk down in the living room and lay under the tree. Sometimes I would pretend all the little lights were stars and I would wish for a Christmas miracle hoping maybe that this year they would stop fighting. Or at least fight a little less.” As you spoke, you watched the ornaments and colorful Christmas lights sparkle and twinkle. “Some years it worked. I really did get a Christmas miracle.”

“I think you were the Christmas miracle.” Minho said turning to look at you.

“I doubt that.”

“Well...you’ve made me not...not like...Christmas. I’d say that’s miracle quality.”

You laughed, reaching for his hand on instinct. His eyes widened, but the boy let you grasp onto his fingers. “Minho, you really aren’t so bad. I feel like maybe I just didn’t take the time to get to know you.” Minho grinned. You felt like it may have been the lights, but a rosy dust filled his cheeks. 

“Yeah, well....like I said. You’re my Christmas miracle.”

You were at a loss for words. Minho shifted his fingers to interlock with yours. “Can- can I kiss you?” He asked with baited breath and furrowed brows, eyes trained on your lips. If you weren’t sure of his feelings, you knew now. Fearing your voice would betray you with any attempt to speak, you nodded and looked through the glass lenses into his deep brown eyes. They were softer than you had once thought. 

Slowly leaning over Minho pressed his lips against yours. That warm feeling returned to your stomach and slowly traveled until you’re whole body felt like it was glowing. Minho kissed you under the twinkling colorful lights of the tree, earasing every other bad thought or thing he had ever said to you before. He pulled away as the grandfather clock in the hall struck twelve. 

“Merry Christmas, Minho.” You whispered, his lips still inches away from yours. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/n.”

❅

“GOOD MORNING CHRISTMAS LOVEBIRDS!” Hyunjin screamed, bursting into the room you and Minho shared. He shrieked seeing the two of you, legs tangled together under the sheets. With sleepy eyes, Minho sat up and tossed the pillow you were using at the blonde’s head. 

“Minho! That was my pillow!” Groaning, he just laid back down and pulled you into his chest, letting you use his arm as a headrest. 

Chan pulled Hyunjin from the floor shaking his head at the drama queen. “In all serious, guys, Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin are very eager to start opening presents so get your butts downstairs.” Minho raised his arm to shoo his leader away. The door closed returning you to your original state of privacy. 

Minho kissed your forehead, snuggling back under the warm duvet with you. “You know this is the first Christmas morning I’ve been excited to wake up. This time I’m just excited to see you though.” 

“Never would have pegged you for the cheesy type, Lee Minho.”

He chuckled, leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss. You were unable to keep the smile from creeping up your face. “We should get down stairs. The boys will be missing us.” 

“Fiiiiine.” He grumbled, pushing himself off the bed. Slowly, your body still waking up, you swung your legs over the side. Before your barefeet could touch the ground, Minho’s hand once again wrapped gently around your ankle. He smiled up at you, kindness in his dark brown eyes. Tenderly, his long fingers slid a warm pair of his socks over your feet. “My Christmas miracle can’t have cold feet, can she?”

Smirking at your blush, Minho took your hand and led you out of the cabin bedroom. You joined the rest of the boys around the tree, Jisung already tearing open a gift and Seungmin passing out presents. Minho found the last empty spot on the couch and pulled you into his lap. 

“You too seem pretty cozy,” Changbin stated, with a knowing look on his face. 

Completley oblivious to the conversation, Jisung chimed in. “So, Minho, did you finally figure out what you want for Christmas? Shopping for you was so hard!” Jisung groaned, holding his new gifted plushie in his arms. 

“I gues all I want for Christmas this year is Y/n.” Minho said with a smile. He leaned over and kissed your cheek, not afraid of any of the boys making fun of him apparently. 

“SO I SHOULD JUST RETURN THE $475 JACKET I BOUGHT YOU HUH?”

❅

Masterlist

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Seven / Decaf

W/C: 4k

Warnings: language, dirty thoughts, all of the dirty thoughts because Javi is a horndog, male masturbation... general spice. pining that could make a pine cone tremble.

A/N: welcome to pining central, enjoy your stay :) (ps when Steve says “Javier Peña” I need you to read that in the voice of Anthony Mackie going “SEBASTIAN STAN”)

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter || Masterlist

ordinary coffee that has had most of its caffeine removed from it before the beans are roasted.

You are a goddamn test on Javier’s self control. He feels like those biblical stories of men fighting back against temptation to prove themselves to God, except the only thing he has to prove is to himself. To you.

He’s always been enraptured by you, captivated by your smile and laugh but since you went ice skating, he hasn’t been able to get your body out of his mind. The way you fell asleep on him last night, nuzzled in like it was the safest place on earth. He could feel your breasts press into his skin, the warmth of your thigh hiked across his abdomen. If the past week has been some caffeine-induced fever dream, it’s becoming real now. You, a figment of his imagination before, maybe, are all flesh and blood and God, is he desperate for it.

Javier hangs around your apartment when you’re gone at work. He doesn’t have much else to do, considering you’re gone and he knows hardly anything about the city. He watches the daytime television on your couch, usually meanders to the coffee shop for a drink, spends some time there, and returns to the apartment.

He feels like he’s couch-surfing, like he did for a summer in his college years. He feels guilty occupying the space in your home, especially without payment. As he walks to the bathroom, he takes a long glance into your bedroom. The queen-sized bed is mussed, unmade before you left for work. The fitted sheet is pooled in the middle beneath where you sleep, the various blankets tossed about. It looks like the coziest damn thing he’s ever seen, especially after a couple of nights on a couch.

Javier almost thinks about giving in, waiting for you to ask him to sleep in your bed tonight then jumping at the chance. Maybe he will, if he’s tired enough. Maybe he won’t, but maybe he will. He can think of nothing better than the endless whir of the radiator as your perpetually-cold body nuzzles against him, brushes your nose against his bare chest.

It’s been a long time since Javi has fucked anyone, and he’s starting to feel it. He’s a little antsy, and the image of your body, your ass as you ice skate past him, haunts him like a bad dream- or rather some illicit fantasy he knows he shouldn’t be having.

Would you want him yet? You’ve told him you love him, but that was an accident. When he kisses you, you kiss back harder. Hell, you initiated the first kiss. You seem like you’ve been all-in on this relationship, taking things at a rushed pace that Javier certainly doesn’t mind. He spends a lot of the day contemplating that, standing on the tiny balcony of your apartment and smoking a couple of cigarettes.

At this point, he needs a distraction or he’s going to have to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. What better to kill the horny buzz making his head spin than to call Murphy?

The phone is in your bedroom, on the nightstand. Javier dares to sit on the edge of your bed, and actually moans aloud at the plush comfort, the way his ass sinks into it. Goddamn, he’ll have to get one of these. He wants nothing more than to lay back and fall into the bed, wait for you to get home and pound you into the comfortable mattress. But he doesn’t. He stays strong and picks up the phone, dialing the new Murphy residence in Miami.

After a couple of rings, a familiar voice answers. “Murphy’s.”

“Hey, bastard,” Javier chuckles, and he can hear the blonde man’s laughter from across the receiver.

“Javier Peña,” Steve drawls, dragging out the name. “Good to hear your voice, man. You finally come out of a ten-day celebratory drunkenness?”

“Don’t talk to me about binges,” Javier teases, but he smiles a little. He’s missed the man. He’s glad neither of them got in any trouble over the entire Los Pepes situation- God, that feels like ages ago now. It’s hard to believe he’s only been in D.C. what, eleven days? If Steve’s math is right, yeah. “No. I’m in D.C. still, if you can believe it. Just… bored.”

“Oh really?” the man scoffs, leaning against his kitchen counter in Miami with Olivia on his hip. “And why’s that? What are you still doin’ up there anyway? Thought you were goin’ to visit the old man.”

Javier shakes his head. “Plans changed. There’s, uh… there’s a girl.”

Steve lets out a wolf whistle, laughing. “And how much does she charge a night?”

“Not one of those. She works at a coffee shop around here,” he informs him. “She’s… she’s really something. Nothing I ever thought I’d be into. She’s gorgeous, man, and so energetic all the damn time. Seems like she has an IV of coffee from her shop,” he chuckles, looking off into space. He takes a pause. Steve doesn’t speak. “I wanna be with her Steve. I don’t… I don’t know if I can go back.”

He’s silent a little longer. “This is some kind of practical joke, right?” Steve says after a beat, barely holding back a laugh. Never has Javier been so sincere, so real and honest and open. And more specifically, he’s never been like this over a girl. Almost… mushy. Soft. “Tell me more,” he says, hoping the joke will give up.

Javier talks about you, describing every little detail with a grin on his face. He tells Steve about Tie Guy and ice skating and your piece of shit car, how you can spin in circles on the ice and how you remind him of a busy little bee, fluttering about the coffee shop.

Steve is genuinely rendered speechless; a hard thing to do. He blinks down at Olivia then straight ahead at the refrigerator, covered in photos and magnets and drawings. He can’t imagine Javier ever wanting something like this, like what he and Connie have, but he sure sounds like it. “That’s… something. Good for you, Javi,” Steve chuckles, resigning to sincerity. “I’m happy for you.”

Javier grumbles back. “Don’t get too happy. I have to go back to Calí in three weeks. She doesn’t want me to leave… I don’t know what to do, Murph. I can’t bring her with, you know that, but I can’t just leave her here. And I sure as hell can’t quit.”

“You could quit.”

“I’m not going to, how’s that?” Javier huffs and crosses his arms, annoyed by Steve and his goddamn wording loopholes. “I just… fuck. I’m gonna go think about it before she gets back.”

“She comin’ to your hotel? You sure you aren’t paying per night?” He smirks.

Javier’s quiet and Steve isn’t sure what it means until he talks. “I’m, uh, staying at her place. She insisted.”

Steve whistles again. “Damn. You’re whipped, Peña. Well, I’ll let you go. Call again soon. I miss ya, bud,” he tells Javier in a moment of earnesty then hangs the phone back on the receiver, bringing Olivia to her nursery to change her diaper.

Javi sighs and falls backwards on the bed, admiring the way the mattress holds his body compared to the couch. Yeah, he’ll definitely need to sleep in here tonight or he’s going to crack his spine.

The issue will be you. He could handle it on the couch; it was like a soft, adolescent form of love, innocent and warm. Of course, it could still be the same in your bed. But would it? Is there not a different set of implications that come with the two of you sharing a bed?

Snuggling with you on the couch was nice. Wonderful, perfect even. Javier loves falling asleep with you in his arms. But in your bed, arms curled around him, maybe even being his little spoon… that perfect body pressed flush to his own, your soft ass against his groin, your breathing pushing back into his chest… that would be an entirely different thing. And he wants it, he really does, but he isn’t sure he’ll be able to control himself.

He slept like shit the last night, to be honest. You on top of him prevented him from moving, and Javier is an active sleeper. His neck was at an odd angle and his back twisted. His body feels like it did after that fight with Tie Guy. He can’t- wouldn’t- invade your privacy of your bed without you home to give him the go ahead, but he’s so damn tired. Not even the coffee helps.

So Javier indulges in one of life’s little pleasures he rarely gets to experience: a nap. Curled up on his side on the couch, blankets pulled snug around his fetal-positioned body, Javier drifts off to the sound of the noon news on the television.

That’s how you find him when you come home. He’s peacefully asleep, his lips parted and mustache moving with his exhales. Well, he’s clearly alive. That’s good.

You’re not sure how long he’s been asleep, so you leave him, making yourself something to eat in the kitchen. You avoid the living room as you get settled in, changing out of your espresso-stained clothing and into something more comfortable.

When you’re all comfy, makeup removed and a warm sweater on, you sit at the other end of the couch. Javier’s curled into a ball, his feet just inches away from your legs. You hope when he moves, he’ll feel you there and wake. If not, oh well. He deserves the rest.

It’s gray and cloudy outside, and you snuggle into the corner of the couch while reading your worn copy of The Great Gatsby. It’s the one you’ve been re-reading recently, what you were reading that first day Javi wandered into your coffee shop and subsequently your life.

Javi wakes not long later, maybe half an hour, to the sound of your book crinkling. The paperback’s spine crunches with wear, and his eyes flutter open to see you tucked against a pillow. God, you look like an angel, the light from the cloudy day filtering in and illuminating you from the back. Your face is calm and peaceful, focused as your eyes trace the words of F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Hi,” Javier mumbles groggily.

Your expression turns to a smile and you set down the book. “Hey.” You take his legs and drape them across your lap, tracing your fingers across them. “How’d you sleep?”

He groans. “Okay. Neck hurts.”

“That wouldn’t be an issue if you’d just sleep with me,” you sing-song to him, stroking his legs through the comfortable pants he wears. “My bed is super cozy.”

God, does Javier know it. It felt like your love itself when he laid down and the warmth of it swallowed him, practically whole. “Maybe I’ll give in,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “How was work? Sorry I didn’t visit.”

“Boring as always,” you chuckle. “What did you do today?”

Javi frowns as he thinks about it, his brain fogged with sleep. “Not much. Called Murphy, talked a while. He’s doing good.”

“Good,” you nod and smile. “When will I get to meet this elusive Steve?” You ask, softly kneading at his legs through the blanket and frowning as you realize he’s wearing… jeans. “Wait, pause. Are you seriously wearing jeans?” you ask him and laugh, lifting the blanket to confirm what you already suspected.

He frowns defensively, crossing his arms. “Maybe.”

“Why the fuck would you take a nap in jeans, Javi?” You laugh.

Javier looks away, frowning. The stubbornness shows. “I don’t own many comfortable clothes besides what I wear to work, if you haven’t noticed,” he retorts, but you can’t help but giggle. “Plus I thought I’d only be here to get fired.”

You smile at him lovingly and cup his face. “You sweet, stupid workaholic. Let’s go shopping later, get you some cozy stuff.”

Javier warms against your touch but maintains a pout. “I like jeans.”

Rolling your eyes, you huff out a laugh. “Would a pair of sweatpants be detrimental to your wardrobe, Javier?”

“Stop using big words,” he groans. “I’m barely awake.”

-

The large mall is annoying to Javier, full to the brim with last-minute (or maybe prepared, he never holiday-purchases) shoppers. He holds your hand, shooting feisty glares at anyone that dares to bump against his or, god forbid, your side. “Relax,” you tease and squeeze his free hand. The other carries a bag containing two hoodies, three t-shirts, and two pairs of sweatpants. “You’re not on a mission, and you certainly don’t have the knuckles to pitch another fight.”

He looks at his hands and scowls. You’re right. They’re no longer black and blue but faded yellows and greens, a spare bit of purple over the bones. The fight wasn’t that long ago, really, even though it feels like an eternity.

You drag Javier into a favorite shop of yours. He follows you around like a lost puppy while you search through clothes. He even hands you one or two tops he thinks you’d look nice in. You kiss him on the cheek and he dares to smile for a moment before returning to his stone-faced annoyance at such a packed area.

The dressing rooms are nicer, much more spaced out and offering places to rest. Javier sits in a chair across from your little cubby as you try things on. Every time you find something, you come out and model it for him. He comments, always positively, gives a little applause and smiles at the twirl you give in the big trifold mirror.

There’s one pair of leggings that hug your ass tight. Javier nearly salivates at them. “I like those,” he comments. “They look comfortable.” The same follows with a pair of jeans, even more flattering. He crosses his legs and nods, giving you similar comments.

Then come the dresses and tops. They’re all low-cut, not the wintery clothing Javier’s always seen you in. They show off your cleavage, and one scarlet colored blouse with a low neckline and fluffy sleeves makes Javier’s eyes simultaneously light up and darken. “How’s this one?” You ask, tugging at the sleeves.

“How much is it?” He asks, leaning back and looking at you through lidded eyes.

“Uh…” you tell him the cost and look back up at him, expecting a comment. “Why?”

“I’m buying that for you myself,” he smirks up at you, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin feel intensely hot. The sight is stunning to him, and your flustered smile makes the smirk a little more devilish.

Javier does end up buying you the shirt, and you purchase a few other things you liked. But that scarlet shirt is stuck on Javier’s mind in replay: the subtle valley between your tits, how they filled out the shirt just perfectly and tugged at the cloth covering them, the way they look painfully soft to the touch, especially through that soft fabric. He wonders if you were wearing a bra under it. Then he has to stop himself.

You eat dinner late, chatting mindlessly over everything and nothing. Javier has no work to speak of now, so he tells you tall tales of the hunt for Escobar, some exaggerated and some underplayed. He mainly listens to you, asks about your past and your future, your family and your job. He could never tire of your voice, the soothing lull that warms him from the inside out, just like your skin flushed in that goddamn red top.

He drives the both of you home, humming softly to the songs on the radio. He’s beginning to recognize more and more of the top-40 hits on a certain preset station, songs he’d never listen to on his own. He glances over at you, gazing out of the window, and feels his body warm again- not just in his heart, but his stomach and lower too. He dares to steal a glance down, at the soft swell of your tits in that sweater. God, he wants to get you naked.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t know what you want and he’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to shatter this blissful phase of adoration without the sexual attraction. He wonders if you feel it too, if your clothes suddenly feel too restricting and too warm when you run a hand down his bare back.

The nightly routine ensues: you shower. Javier changes, this time into a new hoodie but leaves his legs bare, wearing only boxers on the bottom. He waits on the couch, and when you exit the bathroom, he takes his turn. He returns and sits next to you on the couch.

Tonight, when you ask him to share your bed with you, he doesn’t say no. In fact, he doesn’t say much of anything, just yawns softly and stands, taking your hand.

It’s a sacred space, your bed. Javier knows it. He rarely fucks women in his; whether it’s for his own privacy or fear they’ll fall asleep there, he can’t say. But your bed is such an intimate expression of you, and he can see it. He can see the divot in the mattress where you sleep, the way you arrange the pillows just right for your own head. It is a queen size, but it’s single-occupancy: until now, that is, and Javier feels honored you’re willing to share this holiness with him.

He gets into the bed on the other side of you, the warm blankets enveloping him, and he nearly lets out a moan at the comfort. Compared to the hotel bed and the couch, this is sleeping on a literal cloud from the heavens. He lies still, waiting to see what you do first. Not wanting to overstep anything.

His prayers are answered when you snuggle into his side. You rest your head on his chest, kissing his sternum through the soft material of the hoodie. A hand rests on the other side of your face, and your legs both encircle one of his. Javier smiles, wrapping an arm around you. He presses a kiss into your hair and murmurs a goodnight, letting his head fall back. He has no time to worry about this situation before he falls asleep.

He falls asleep almost immediately, which makes you chuckle through your half-conscious state. He seems to always radiate heat, Javier. Your layers of blankets upon blankets suddenly feel unnecessary when a heat source the strength of the summer sun fills your bed. His chest is strong and firm beneath you. The rise and fall of his chest is like a boat rocking on the ocean, putting you at ease and allowing you to rest.

-

Fuck. He knew this was a bad idea. Why did he do this?

The clock reads 1:48 and Javier is wide awake, staring at your popcorn-stucco-whatever the fuck it is ceiling. He wasn’t able to process this before sleep overtook him, before his consciousness was wiped and with it, his inhibitions.

Your body is pressed to his so perfectly. You sleep without a bra, and Javier can feel his arm being slightly sandwiched between your breasts, the way they press further into it every time you inhale. Your thighs are warm with sleep, and he can feel your core pressed against his hip, even while you sleep and even through the layers of clothing.

Javier feels like the embodiment of slime. You’re asleep and all he can think about is how fucking hot your body is, how much he wants to press you into this mattress and wake you with an orgasm. He wants to palm your tits and make your nipples harden through that flimsy shirt, to slide his fingers beneath your pajama bottoms and-

He can’t take it. He feels so wrong, the smell of you surrounding him and choking him like a thick perfume, even in its subtlety. He does not deserve to sleep next to you, innocently, like someone you love, when all he can think about is his own carnal desires.

Pushing back the covers, Javier gets out of bed before any more blood can flow to his slowly hardening dick. This is all wrong. He should not be doing this, thinking these things without knowing you feel the same.

But the guilt is as strong as his arousal. He watches you for a moment, torn between his options, before meandering through the darkened bedroom and finding his way into the bathroom. He turns on the bright lights and forces himself to stare at the bulbs, to make his pupils shrink from their blown state of sleep mixed with desperation. He’s fully awake now.

He needs to get the hardened length down. He can’t do this, can’t allow himself this suffering while you sleep in the next room.

The sink. Cold water. He gasps silently at the splash of the ice-cold water against his face, dampening the edges of his hoodie. It doesn’t work enough. Again. Nothing. He feels like a teenager, unable to control himself. The cold water is a good idea, though.

Javier strips down, trying to avoid the urge to take himself in hand and fix this here and now. Turning the water as cold as it can go, Javier turns on the shower and steps in.

Agony is the best term he has. It makes him want to squeal like a fucking pig as he shudders from the cold. It doesn’t work to force his erection down, but what use is it when it’s not something physical but mental stimulating him? The cold shock didn’t do shit. Javier’s still achingly hard. He turns the water warmer and sighs as it gradually turns to a tolerable temperature, one that he can relax under and allow himself to let out a deep sigh.

He has no other options, unless he wants to wait it out. Leaning against the wall, Javier strokes himself, biting his lip and hoping the water pressure will cancel any soft moans he can’t avoid. It doesn’t take long when he’s this aroused, when he knows exactly what the fantasy in his head would feel like.

Javier is panting and sweating, from the effort and the growing heat of the water. He feels disgusting but it feels so good, and he can’t help imagining you doing this to him, you spreading your legs and feeding the fire between his own.

It only takes a few minutes. He gasps as he cums, with a force he’s never brought forth with his own hand. He bites his lip so hard he’s sure he might cut it off, not allowing the desperate sounds to reach a level you could hear. When he’s done, he groans and cracks his neck. “Oh, little bee,” he whispers, agonized as he lets the water wash the evidence of his sins down the drain.

When he’s done, Javier walks into your bedroom, silently, in the dark. His previous boxers were stained with a patch of his precum; he can’t put those back on. He drops the towel and puts on different boxers.

After he’s changed, he looks at your bed longingly for a moment. The soft sheets, soft mattress, the soft body between them. But in Javier’s head, he’s forsaken his right to the warmth, the comfort.

When you wake in the morning, hours after you thought you heard the shower running, you find Javier is not in your bed. There isn’t even a warm spot where he lay, just your body shifted further from your normal sleeping position. When you wander out to make your morning coffee, you find him. He spent the night on the couch again.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @yooforia @oceanablue @sara-alonso @pedrosmustache @feelingmadclever @hnt-escape @radiowallet @obsessivelysearching @sugarontherims @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @linnie0119 @1800-fight-me @autumnleaves1991-blog @toilet-keeper @evelynseventyr @metalarmsandmanbuns @shannababyy @sambucky21 @princess76179 @starless-eyes-remain @theorganasolo @jagi-yaaa @mrsparknuts @tacticalsparkles @beskarboobs @wintermuteway

[paperpocalypse]

crackers and jam.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,703 words

Warnings: Swearing

Some time back, not long after he got stranded in the post-apocalyptic world and perhaps a year and a half before running into you, Five’s only companion was Delores.

It had been a meeting of chance (as everything is) in the middle of a destroyed department store. She had been looking at him. And maybe that’s why he was so drawn in – that stare; it was a lifeless stare, yeah, but it was not by any means a dead stare like the ones he had met too many times before. No life had been lost to create that stare. She was smiling, too.

Five had lifted her carefully out of the chunks of concrete, greeting her because there was no one else. For the first few weeks, he just placed her at the corner of her store and visited every once in a while, then took to occasionally toting her around the City when he needed to talk. He liked to pretend that she answered back – sometimes. After a few months, he named her Delores.

Then he met you.

Unlike Delores, you were human. Breathing. Alive, somehow. And you had thoughts and feelings that weren’t always connected to his and – and it was weird. It was home.

You didn’t question his friendship with Delores. Five had seen the half-burned stuffed frog in your wagon, so you wouldn’t have had anything to hold over him anyway. He knew that you knew that he still went to the department store in the middle of the night. And, shit, deep down Five also knew that Delores was, in the end, just a hunk of plastic with eyes. But after a year and a half of having nobody else, she had become something of a comfort. And a confidant. Burdening you with his issues was not an option, so when things became a little shittier than usual, he would slip out from underneath his blanket, make sure you weren’t having a nightmare, and head downtown to voice his thoughts aloud.

Over time, though, he learned that you were willing to listen. You listened, and you were always kind about it even if you didn’t always understand. His nightly visits decreased. And it was okay for a while.

But then Five began to struggle with a new issue – one that was a little different than the usual mess of stress and anxiety – and one night, he finds himself looking down at Delores again because talking to you about it is definitely off the table.

Unfortunately, Delores’s kindness is different from yours.

Well, here we are. Again.

“I’m just here to think,” he snaps, combing a grubby hand through his tangled mess of hair. The lantern beside him glows weakly as he plops down onto a slab of concrete. “Mind your business.”

Your business is everyone’s business here, Five. And to put my own two cents in, I think that you’re scared of your own feelings.

Blood travels to Five’s cheeks, unwarranted, as he narrows his eyes at Delores. “For the last time, that’s not what this is about. It’s – Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get over it. This isn’t a life-or-death issue.”

Then why have you been ranting about it like it is?

“I’m not.”

Ha! Rich.

He grits his teeth. She stares back at him, unperturbed. Bastard.

You know, maybe you’ll feel better if you say it out loud. Air it out. Test to see if it’s real.

“I’m not doing that.”

Do it.

No.

Say it.

No.

For god’s sake, Number Five, take a goddamn look at yourself –

“Fine!” Five hisses, though it feels more like an explosion. He throws his hands up. “I like [Y/n], alright? We’re the last people on this goddamn planet and I like them, and I shouldn’t care this much but I do. Happy?”

Delores pauses. Five looks away.

Very.

Ugh.

Did it feel real?

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms, and doesn’t answer. The smile on Delores’s face seems a little smug, and it makes him want to hurl. He shouldn’t have said it out loud. Relieve some of the pressure and everything starts to boil over …

Breathing in deeply, Five forces his shoulders to relax. He bids a soft goodbye to Delores, then heads back to camp.

—

A week later, Five’s visit comes back to bite him in the worst way possible.

You’ve been having a hard time starting the fire for tonight, so he finishes splitting the evening rations to help you out with the bow drill. As he does so, you watch in silence, both of you waiting patiently for the smoke and dust.

“Do you think we have enough wood?” you eventually ask.  

“It’s enough,” he murmurs, only half paying attention. After a while, a few chalky wisps of smoke begin to rise from the charring wood. He leans in to blow the ember carefully once it forms, then puts it into the tinder and coaxes out a flame. “Get the kindling?”

You oblige, and within a few minutes, a healthy fire starts to dance atop the wood, scorching his face and fingers with heat. Five stares intently at the oranges and yellows for a moment, lips pressed together, intrigued in a tired sort of way. Warmth. Then he backs off and grabs a portion of crumbled up crackers, handing it to you.

You spread the cloth over your knees. “Now all we need is some jam.”

���What kind?”

A soft hum escapes your throat. You contemplate unhurriedly, dabbing up some stray crumbs with a finger. “Blackberry,” you reply after a few moments. “Or strawberry. The kind that’s sort of chunky.”

It’s been a long time since he’s tasted either of those things. The simple thought of whole crackers spread with fresh jam, sweet and dark and sticky, is a luxury in and of itself. Five tries not to think about it too much, munching on his third fragment of stale cracker. It makes his mouth dry. “Hm,” he says, picking up the canteen for a few drops of water.

The fire pops. A few sparks fly out into the air and die just as quickly. You finish your supper and wipe your mouth, stretching your legs out in front of you as you sigh.

Five tilts his head at you. “What?”

“What?” you parrot back, though he sees the way your fingers fidget.

“You have something to say.”

Your facial expression shifts just the smallest bit. “How can you tell?”

(Simple – because he knows you. He knows your ticks; knows how you tick. He knows your smiles and all the subtle ways that your voice rises and falls. He’s memorized you because he fears forgetting, and it’s a problem.)

“Kind of hard not to,” Five replies.

“Oh.” You chew the inside of your cheek, still seeming unsure. “Well, um … I just wanted to talk to you about something. And please don’t be mad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um. A couple nights ago, I had a bad dream.”

“I know.”

“Not the one you woke me up from. A different one,” you mutter. “The night after we found the pillows.”

“Oh,” Five says.

“Yeah.” You look down at your hands. They’re dusty and rough, littered with small scars from climbing and falling and holding. “I … um, that night, I woke up and you weren’t there. And I sort of panicked, and went looking –”

The blood drains from Five’s face.

“I went looking for you, and I found you. Talking to her.” You glance at him for a split second. “About me.”

Oh, fuck.

Five stares at you as you fiddle with the scrap of cloth on your lap. You know. You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to ever know, and now you do.

“Five?” Your voice is curious and small.

His voice is raspy. “How much did you hear?”

“Almost everything.” You grab the cuff of his coat sleeve as he attempts to stand up. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I really didn’t mean to, but –”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies tersely. “We need more firewood, anyway.”

“We have enough,” you say, though you relinquish your hold when he tugs a little harder away from you. You sound hurt. “Five, it’s okay to feel like that.”

“It’s not. It makes things more complicated.”

“How?” Standing up, your brow furrows. “I like you too, Five. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His chest tightens. “That just makes it worse.”

“I like you,” you repeat. Your hand moves down to take his gently. “A lot. And it’s okay.”

(Did it feel real?)

Five meets your gaze solidly despite not quite wishing to, a familiar sense of guilt washing over him when you squeeze his hand.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t met you. Then he would’ve gotten what he deserved for his recklessness – nothing – with nothing to concern himself with other than equations and survival and time. That, he’s fairly sure, would have been easier to manage. He hadn’t been taught to care for someone else. Not like this, at least.

But you. You. Five swallows the lump in his throat.

“I might have to leave you behind,” he murmurs, more hoarsely than he’d like to admit. The words burn like ice on the roof of his mouth. “One day.”

You don’t reply for a few seconds.

Then, for some inexplicable reason, you step a little closer. “But not tonight," you say. "Right?”

For shit’s sake, you’re so optimistic. Five chuckles dryly, hand still engulfed in yours, blinking away the vague stinging in his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I forgive you. If you feel like you need it.” With a mild exhale, you smile at him. Your eyes are glossy. “So can we sit back down? I like doing that.”

He quietly agrees.

So you bring him back down to sit before the fire, closer to him than before. No more words are left to be said. A heavy silence settles in their place, neither good nor bad, and almost comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Five tries not to think.

You lean against his shoulder. He welcomes it.

[hlizr50]

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 7

Cassian provides comic relief.

And Gwyn and Az spar for the first time since... everything.

Read on AO3

“Well today was interesting.” Nesta raised a brow. Gwyn chose to play dumb.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged. Her head wasn’t really there, she knew, and her friend could have seen it from miles away.

“Gwyneth Berdara!” Nesta huffed, crossing her arms. “I held you last night as you cried over the shadowsinger and today you can’t stop ogling each other and grinning like fools. What. Happened?” Gwyn smiled sincerely, leaning in to kiss her sister on the cheek.

“I love you, and I will forever be grateful that you are by my side. And that you stalked straight into that study and gave him hell,” the priestess laughed. “We talked last night. I found him in the training ring.”

Gwyn and Nesta sat on the sofa in the library, legs tucked beneath them. Training had ended and hour before and Nesta had practically dragged the redhead inside after being caught in the middle of one-too-many sidelong glances between the priestess and the shadowsinger. Nesta’s ice-gray stare bore into her through narrowed eyes.

“So what? You’re miserable for three weeks and he says he’s sorry and magically everything is fine? I’m disappointed, Berdara.” Nesta scowled. “I wanted you to at least make him squirm a little.”

Gwyn’s head rocked back as she laughed, likely the most genuine mirth she’d experienced in weeks. “Don’t worry, dear Valkyrie. He’s not off the hook yet.” She felt her nose crinkle as her friend’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise.

“Explain, Gwyneth,” she commanded.

“Well,” Gwyn paused, contemplating how to keep the story succinct. “I made him explain himself, and he walked me through his past. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I couldn’t forgive him, but that he cares for me… as more than a friend. And I told him I felt the same.” Her heart swelled just as it had the night before, a quiet confession she hadn’t been sure she ever wanted to hear. Not unless it was from Azriel.

“WHAT?!” Nesta shot to her feet and began pacing excitedly in front of the fireplace with her hands covering her mouth. Then she stopped, turning to Gwyn and leaning on the plush armrest. “So are you an item now?”

“No.” Gwyn’s smile was smug as her friend groaned dramatically and collapsed playfully over the sofa arm. “Not yet, at least.” Nesta lifted her head.

“Oh?”

“I told him that things would go back to how they were before this necklace debacle. That’s how our relationship developed in the first place.” She absentmindedly fingered the pendant as she spoke. “He has to prove to me that he won’t fall into this cycle of guilt and self-loathing and deciding for me what I want or deserve. And once I can trust that he won’t push me away like that we’ll find out what’s next.”

“Darling priestess, I’m impressed!” Nesta pushed herself back upright, leaning once again on the couch. “What did he say?”

Gwyn felt the heat in her cheeks as she recalled the roughness of his declaration, his voice unlike any other time she’d heard him speak.

“He swore to me that he would.”

“He swore? Cauldron, Gwyn, you have him wrapped around your finger already!”

“And then I hugged him.”

Nesta’s lips quirked up on one side and she tilted her head. Gwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction, like she was being studied. “And what did he do then?”

“What else does a person do when you hug them?” The priestess giggled. “He put his arms around me and hugged back.” She conveniently forgot to mention that he’d seemed to breathe her in after that. That it had felt like he was trying to pull her so far into him that she wouldn’t be able to pull away. It had been the most incredible feeling.

Gwyn looked to her friend but found a narrowed gray gaze and flaring nostrils.

“CASSIAN!”

The priestess squeaked as she launched herself to the opposite side of the couch, desperate to quiet her sister’s call. She balanced a knee precariously on the armrest, slapping a hand over Nesta’s mouth.

“Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “What in the Mother’s name!”

“CASSIAN! Library! NOW!” Nesta held Gwyn’s wrists in her hands, lips curled in amusement. The redhead struggled to quiet her, a string of obscenities rolling from her lips. “Berdara, such language! Hardly becoming of a priestess!”

Said priestess pushed off the sofa arm and pulled Nesta down to the ground, pinning the eldest Archeron on her back between her legs. Her victorious smirk fell when she looked up to find the Illyrian general staring down at them, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m going to kill you, Archeron,” Gwyn growled before flashing a bright smile at Cassian. “Hello, General.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here. I don’t know if I should be concerned, jealous, or aroused.” Cassian’s grin widened as the priestess scowled, even as she felt the blush burning her cheeks.

“You’re a pig,” his mate muttered before pushing her captor in the stomach. “Get off me, Berdara. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t see how your mate belongs in this discussion,” Gwyn retorted, but rose to her feet and offered a hand to the other Valkyrie. Nesta got up and they helped dust each other off. She lifted an eyebrow at the copper-haired priestess, her smirk creating a coil of suspicion in Gwyn’s stomach.

“Cassian,” Nesta cooed before turning to face him. “Apparently our dear priestess and the shadowsinger shared an embrace last night.”

“Is that so?” Gwyn pressed her hands to her face, trying to douse the fire that was blazing in her cheeks as the Illyrian fixed her with an unyielding amber stare.

“It is. I’m guessing you didn’t know?” Cassian’s gaze moved to his mate.

“You think Az would tell me something like that?” He laughed, sending Gwyn a wink that only ignited her face further. She groaned and collapsed onto the fluffy cushions of the couch, desperate for this conversation to end.

“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I tell my best friend everything.” Gwyn peeked out from between her fingers in time to see Nesta fix a pointed glare on her. “Although, it seems my best friend may be wary to do the same.”

“Nes, Azriel doesn’t tell me anything about his love life. He knows I’ll immediately use it to make his life miserable.”

“Gods, Cassian, please don’t,” Gwyn pleaded, planting her hands on either side of her thighs. The Illyrian plopped onto the couch next to her and shot her a boyish grin.

“I make no promises, little Valkyrie.”

She took in his hulking form as she shook her head at him, a smile creeping onto her lips. Cassian was the personification of strength and power, with confidence that toed the fine line into arrogance. With those rippling muscles that were never truly hidden – no matter how loose a shirt he wore – it was any wonder he didn’t have females hanging from those thick biceps at every moment. But she imagined Nesta would put an end to anything of the sort quickly and in the most terrifying way. Gwyn had always been somewhat surprised that the general hadn’t absolutely terrified her, but she had been remarkably intimidated – his reputation, his swagger, his skill. There was a time not-so-long ago when she couldn’t have imagined feeling so self-assured. Even now she was sure she’d never quite make it to Cassian’s level of easy confidence, but she had come so far from that soft-spoken, timid nymph in the library.

“I don’t even know why I asked.” Gwyn rolled her eyes and flopped back against the velvet tufts and buttons of the well-worn couch.

“Aw, now don’t be like that, Gwynnie,” the general pouted and leaned toward her. She crossed her arms and grimaced, freckled nose scrunching at the nickname. “I promise I’ll try to be good. But that’s all I can promise.”

“He just can’t help himself,” Nesta mused.

“Well I appreciate your effort, I suppose. Since it will be so difficult for you.”

“Anything for you, little Valkyrie.” The general tapped a finger on the tip of Gwyn’s nose and guffawed at her glare. Apparently she wasn’t as intimidating as she’d hoped. But she saw Cassian’s eyes soften, amber gaze shining in the afternoon sunlight through the large windows. “I’m glad you were able to talk to him. Nes had us worried last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your boys’ night. I never would’ve asked her to –“

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The honey-haired Valkyrie crossed in front of Gwyn and placed herself on her mate’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. Gwyn’s heart squeezed at the casual display, the intimacy of it. It wasn’t a big deal for the couple before her, but… was that something she could have? Something she could do? Would Azriel want that – closed-off and guarded as he always seemed to be? Smiling and laughing was one thing, but public displays of affection? “Shit got done thanks to me. And if that’s what it took to get him to stop being a fucking imbecile then I will never apologize.”

“I think things are on the right track now.” Gwyn smiled, though she kept her gaze focused on the whorls of dark wood grain in the coffee table. “Hopefully.”

~~~

Two Days Later

Azriel’s shadows wafted like smoke around him, an indication of a peace that was beginning to bloom inside him. Although he had awoken in the middle of the night, it wasn’t his typical darkness and demons that chased him out of bed. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the familiar weight of Truthteller in his grasp. Maybe his body was simply accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night, now, and it would take months – or years – of relatively peaceful sleep to change that.

The shadowsinger inhaled deeply, letting his body feel everything around him – the cool night air caressing his wings, the soft glow of the moon brightening the backs of his eyelids, the grounding presence of solid stone as he pushed his weight down through his booted feet and into the packed dirt of the ring. Then he lifted his foot and began the dance, a more elaborate form of the eight-pointed star that he had developed centuries ago, mixing intricate close-proximity blade work with feinting, defense, and hand-to-hand. Every flick of the wrist was carefully choreographed in time with a metronome of inhales and exhales, every shift in weight a perfect harmony accompanying the melody of blade and fist slicing the air.

This, he understood, was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian. Every step, every breath calm and calculated – the result of ruthless research and perfect practice. The Spymaster understood that physical strength and prowess were absolutely important, but the ability to predict and bend and break an enemy hinged on one’s ability to intimately understand every part of the mind inside the body. To so deeply know those who would do harm to his Court, his family, was to be them and see their chosen path, ideally before they even chose it.

And so the dance continued.

Azriel felt the skin of his bare chest and back tighten, pebbling as the breeze and the curling shadows wicked the perspiration from his tanned flesh. He loved this feeling, the quiet and cold of the night a safe haven against prying eyes. They were always on him. He felt them as intensely as if they were the brush of fingers on his skin – lustful longing glances, morbid curiosity over his scarred body and ruined hands, abject and wide-eyed terror at the Spymaster in the flesh. Sometimes his shadows helped hide him, and sometimes he loosened their leash, allowing the inky tendrils to writhe and pulse in his wake, reminding the world just what he was.

Darkness. Malice. Death. The vilified and reviled Court of Nightmares personified in the heart of the beauty of the city of starlight.

So many times he had resigned to himself that he should take residence there, in the Hewn City. Too many times he had been tempted to shut himself off from the love and light of his family and his court and let the shadows consume him. He was endlessly grateful to those who had reached out their hands and walked him back from that ledge – a cliff hanging over the raging black waters of sorrow, brokenness, anger, and fear. Cassian and Rhys. Mor. Feyre.

Gwyn.

Even in the solitude of his midnight practice he could feel the burn of her ocean-deep eyes and scent the hint of rain and water lilies –

Azriel’s eyes snapped open and he spun the quarter turn he knew would leave him facing the doorway. There he found the priestess, clad in those leathers that didn’t hide an inch of her, Cauldron damn him. She leaned against the frame with crossed arms and graced him with a soft smile. He could feel his shadows curl under her thoughtful gaze and he cursed them for once again not alerting him to her presence. It took him but a breath to take in the sight of her, not wanting to ogle her so obviously – a crass male instinct he worked desperately to beat into submission. Gwyn seemed to glow in the night, but while her smooth porcelain skin shone in the moonlight and her straight hair was a fire burning against it, he was captivated always by the teal depths of her impossibly expressive eyes. The emotions he had seen there had nearly brought him to his knees more times than he cared to admit.

“Please, Shadowsinger, don’t stop on my account.” She waved those graceful fingers in his direction, urging him on.

“And give you a free show? I don’t think so.” The sound of her full-bodied laugh may have been the most glorious thing he had ever heard, the sincerity of it something he’d taken for granted. The shadows over his shoulders seemed to vibrate in time with her mirth.

“And what of all I saw before you even realized I was here?”

“A free preview, of course.” He let his lips quirk into a wry smile. “To tempt you.” Gwyn snorted – Mother above she snorted at him. And when she only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him, he continued.

“Spar with me. If you win I’ll let you watch.”

“You must think mighty highly of yourself if my beating you in a fight would win only the opportunity to watch you train the eight-pointed star, beautiful and elaborate as it may be.” Azriel knew his face was tinged with heat – beautiful – and could only hope the night was dark enough that the priestess couldn’t see. He knew his traitorous shadows would be no help. They seemed to revel in his vulnerability with her, always drifting in her direction and refusing to shield him in any capacity. Not from Gwyn. And while she was clearly unimpressed she pushed away from the wall and strode toward him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he wondered for a moment why she hadn’t tied it back.

“What brings you here, then, priestess? If not to spar, or to watch?” Azriel knew that her trips to the training ring were borne of sleepless nights, demons and nightmares he had not been able to save her from. But he also knew how she abhorred pity, bristling against it much like he did – a gleaming mirror to his shadowed soul. The spymaster shuddered and took a cautious step toward her as she stopped an arm’s length before him. Her eyes had never left his, and he couldn’t see the exhaustion and pain that had shimmered there only days before. But he still had to ask.

“Are you still having that nightmare, Gwyn?” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, knew that she would understand his ask. He flared his wings, trying to ease the tension between his shoulders that had lodged there as he recalled the wrenching shame of the night he’d been made aware of the full extent of her suffering, the consequence of his stupidity.

Her straight copper hair swished around her face as she shook her head. Azriel felt the unimaginable weight lifting from him as the corners of Gwyn’s mouth ticked up in a gentle smile. A shadow broke away and twirled through a loose tendril that had fallen over her cheek, as if boasting to its master that it could caress her skin and he could not. Azriel’s throat bobbed as he made to speak, but the Valkyrie beat him to it.

“Are we sparring or not, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn stepped away from him, giving herself space to execute a few quick stretches. “If you are to be believed, my viewing pleasure hangs in the balance.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t live that down for awhile. He kept silent as he centered himself, rolling his neck and shoulders as he waited for the priestess to take her fighting stance. She deftly wove her hair into an easy plait and tied the end with her ever-present white ribbon.

“Do you just keep a ribbon on you at all times?” Azriel teased.

“I’m always prepared, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she answered matter-of-factly. “It’s practically my signature now.” And although the Illyrian chuckled and shook his head, he was inwardly marveling at how she could be so strong and bold and brave and yet still be… adorable.

As Gwyn lowered her hands to her sides, she took a breath. Azriel watched, transfixed, as she seemed to transform in the pale blues and grays of the moonlight upon the stone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she squared her shoulders, breathing in with a patient and measured ease.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Azriel could feel the air around them as it seemed to still along with the redhead – no longer the playful young priestess, but a warrior preparing for battle. He bent his knees and shifted his weight, preparing for what would face him when she opened her eyes. Even his shadows hung frozen over his shoulders, paralyzed in anticipation.

The Valkyrie didn’t give him time to admire how her incredible eyes had become dark and infinite with determination and deadly calm. She struck immediately.

The shadowsinger was taken aback for the briefest moment, but of course he knew that was what she had intended. Often when they sparred it began measured and slow. They knew each other too well, understood their strategies, strengths, and tells. So many times they would simply circle for what seemed like hours, silently daring the other to make the first move. Or relentlessly goading each other until one of them reacted.

Gwyn immediately jumping on the offensive was unusual, and he kept his eyes keenly focused on her face, her breathing, her movement, in an attempt to divine her plan. He deftly blocked punches and ducked under a kick meant for his face, grinning when he heard the muttered curse under her breath. His grin widened as she moved away from him, chest heaving.

“Winded already, Berdara?” Azriel cocked an amused eyebrow as they circled each other. “How disappointing.”

“My training has suffered a bit these last few weeks,” she retorted, wiping the back of her hand over her brow.

“Oh, I am well aware. I saw Nesta knock you on your ass the other day.” The shadowsinger aimed for that same shoulder, the one she left exposed when she was exhausted, throwing a punch, then a kick, and then another punch. Gwyn managed to dodge the kick but couldn’t fully avoid the second fist. She staggered backward with a grunt.

“I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,” she growled. A pang of guilt struck him, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it move him. He knew she hadn’t been training healthily, and he knew it was because of him. But their relationship in the ring was just as much about trust and accountability as it was about supporting each other and fighting their lingering darkness. He would not pity her, and he would not take it easy on her.

“Again, priestess. I am well aware.”

Gwyn’s response was to lash out, sending an uncontrolled punch at his face. Azriel caught her wrist and spun her around, caging her in his arms with her back against his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling of her panting body against his as he angled his head to whisper in her ear.

“Your enemy will not wait until you’re ready to strike. You must always be primed, skills honed and mind settled. Even when stupid males make your life unnecessarily difficult and painful.”

The priestess tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong as stone. But he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp her foot into his instep. She managed to escape his arms, but he kept his grip on her wrist as she whirled to face him. She wound her wrist from his hand and in the same breath he spun and kicked his leg out low, sweeping her feet out from under her. Azriel was upon her as soon as her back hit the ground, thighs straddling her stomach. Her loss of breath made it easy for him to grab her wrists and pin them to her chest.

“You must always take care of yourself, Gwyneth Berdara. Always be at your best. There must never be defeat for you. You will not falter. You will not be taken. Is that clear?” His voice had become thick as his throat tightened, the shadowsinger only just realizing the implications of her deterioration over the previous weeks. What if there had been an attack? What if something had happened? Gwyn would have been in no condition to fight. That was not a prospect he was willing to entertain. “Is that clear, Berdara?”

“Yes.” Gwyn’s answer was barely a whisper between gulping breaths. Pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his fierce command, their compromising position, or the physical exertion. Azriel didn’t immediately release her wrists and instead leaned back onto his heels to stand. As he rose and stepped backwards over her legs he pulled her to her feet.

“You’re out of practice, priestess,” he scolded, chuckling as she scowled and pulled her arms away from him. She strode over to the water table and poured a cup from one of the half-empty pitchers left from training. Azriel had expected a retort, and when she didn’t fling one he took his time to join her, first retrieving his discarded shirt from the other side of the ring. They stood in silence, letting the night breeze cool their skin and steady their breathing. Gwyn’s teal gaze drifted to the city below, a rainbow of twinkling lights in competition with the black starlit sky. The shadowsinger was content to be silently near her, present for whatever support she needed. He took the chance to appreciate her lovely face in profile, the moonlight illuminating the freckles painted across her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any real reason for me to come up here tonight,” Gwyn admitted softly, keeping her eyes focused out into the night. “I just… wanted to see if you would be here. I wanted to spar with you again, finally. Like we used to.”

Azriel took a moment to soak himself in her confession and allowed the guilt to wash over him briefly. That there was even a shred of insecurity inside her, the smallest thought that he wouldn’t be there for her. He would snuff out those thoughts if it took him another five centuries. “I told you I would prove it to you, that I would earn your trust again. It felt… right. Tonight, I mean.” And then that beautiful smile graced her full lips. She still didn’t turn to him, but he knew without seeing how that smile would light up her eyes. His shadows lazily churned, basking in her contentment, and the shadowsinger allowed himself to delight in the golden spark of hope in his chest when his priestess finally answered.

“Yes. It does feel right.”

Tag list: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430 @live-the-fangirl-life

[sleepingcrisis]

I finished it >:) I kinda want to make a part two, but for now here you go my deprived mutuals plus anyone else who would enjoy it.

Ao3 link for those who prefer to read on there is here.

Drunk Confessions

"You could pretend I'm him you know... I wouldn't care," Joe’s voice was slurred from the alcohol as he kept his eyes away from his pink haired friend... yeah friend. "You could use me as much as you want and I would thank you for it, you could moan his name and I promise to only cry a little," he laughed it off but the tears were already forming.

"I—" Kaoru wasn't sure what to say to that. He took a breath and gently nudged the glass Joe was drinking from away from him. That was clearly enough.

"He has been gone for a year today," Joe continued and looked over to Kaoru now. Kaoru had a hard time meeting his gaze though. It was impossible. He didn't want to see the moment Joe broke.

"He has been gone for a year now," Kaoru agreed softly with a nod.

"He has been gone for a year and you don't look at anyone like you looked at him. I know I'm not him and I know I can't be him — and hey I loved him too! But fuck I have never loved anyone the way I love you. You could pretend I'm him though. You did once—"

"When did I—"

"You practiced confessing to him in highschool and asked if I would listen," Joe responded immediately. "You told me how much you loved him, but you never used his name... I got to pretend you were telling me how much you love me... pathetic isn't it?" Joe let out another pained laugh.

"Oh Joe," Kaoru whispered and sighed softly.

"Do you think you could ever love me the way you love him? Even just a bit?" He asked. He reached a hand over and clumsily cupped Kaoru’s cheek.

Kaoru looked at him. His own expression pained as he reached his hands over to cup both of his cheeks and gently hold him still.

"I do love you."

"Not like you love him," Joe countered and made a half assed attempt at pulling away from Kaoru’s touch.

Kaoru sighed softly, Joe didn't know just how wrong his thinking was. Tonight wasn't the night to confess the feelings he had for him for years.

"Let’s get you home. You're drunk Kojiro."

What could Kaoru say? He is a coward. 

“Do you remember much of last night?” he asked. Kojiro’s mother had brought them both water and currently Kaoru was gripping his glass tightly. Thumbs brushed away the condensation before he drank it again along with some medicine to ease his headache and hopefully get rid of the need to throw up.

Kojiro is still laying down which makes it easy to not look at him. His room is notably half packed. It all comes crashing back together that despite Kojiro's practical admission of love he also had said something else weeks ago. 

“No, I guess I blacked out. Did I say anything embarrassing?” Kojiro asked. Kaoru picked at the duvet on the bed. Hideous orange. Who’s favorite colour is orange? Based on the fact that none of the furniture matches, Kaoru isn’t sure Kojiro has a favorite colour despite claiming that it is orange. The desk is red, the rug is green, the duvet is orange while the pillow covers are blue and the bed sheets themselves are green. Hideous. Kaoru has always thought that Kojiro’s choice in decor was hideous. 

“No. You just seemed upset.” 

“Well I am leaving at the end of the week.” 

“Does that mean you are going to miss me?” Kaoru tried for teasing. He isn’t sure that he sounds like he is teasing the other, but Kojiro must have a really big headache because he doesn’t take notice. 

“Yeah. I am,” Kojiro whispered and it made Kaoru shortcircuit momentarily before he finished his water. He nudged the other and called him some form of ‘stupid’ before getting up and getting ready for the day. 

They don't have much time left together after all.

 

***

 

It happens again, because of course it happens again. Kojiro is back from Italy for a visit and on one of the last couple of days he is dragging Kaoru to a bar. 

“Kaoru,” Kojiro hummed and wrapped his hands around Kaoru’s waist from behind him after he had come back from the bathroom. 

“What is it, Kojiro?” Kaoru asked in the same playful tone. 

“I love you,” Kojiro said in a casual tone that made Kaoru’s entire world freeze for a moment. This wasn’t going to be like last time, was it? He couldn’t handle that again. Seeing the sunshine in his life look so incredibly miserable. 

“I love you too goof,” Kaoru replied casually as his face warmed. Friends told each other that they loved each other all the time. This was fine right? After the last time he was sure this wasn’t just a friend thing, but Kojiro was leaving for Italy again and in their last call Kaoru had heard about how Kojiro had some sort of girlfriend, granted he hadn’t mentioned her while he was here, but still. 

“You don’t get it Kaoru,” Kojiro breathed against his neck and held onto him a little tighter. Kaoru felt himself being tugged and soon they were outside. He fumbled for his pack of smokes and ignored how ridiculously big Kojiro had gotten after being away for nearly a year. He lit the smoke and kept his eyes on the pavement. Kojiro wouldn’t remember this in the morning anyway. 

“Do you want a smoke?” Kaoru asked softly, desperate to change the subject. 

Kojiro nodded but took the one from between Kaoru’s lips before taking a drag of it. Kaoru watched it happen and normally would have been pissed if it wasn’t for the fact that his brain was hyper aware of the feeling of Kojiro’s fingers against his lips for less then a second. 

“I want you to love me,” Kojiro whispered. 

“I do.” 

“No. Kaoru I want you to love me so I can hold you and touch you and kiss you and show you just how much I love you,” Kojiro whispered. Kaoru watched him shift his entire weight and soon he was boxed in against the wall of the bar with one hand against the brick he had been leaning against keeping him there. The other hand held the smoke which Kojiro took a long drag of before holding it to Kaoru’s lips so he could take one. 

Kaoru counted that as their first indirect kiss that mattered. 

 

***

 

Kaoru really needed to not drink around Kojiro anymore. It was his first night back from Italy and Kojiro wanted to get drinks. Kaoru thought he had been keeping count of his drinks enough to prevent another incident. But then Kaoru comes back from the bathroom and somehow Kojiro is plastered. Kaoru doesn't buy it this time. 

"How is your girlfriend? Are you still keeping in touch with her?" Kaoru asked and realized he never learned her name. 

"No. We broke up, I didn't love her," Kojiro said. 

"That sucks. You seemed very fond of her," Kaoru said. 

"Well there is only one person I can love," Kojiro hummed. 

Kaoru knows exactly where this is going and he will be damned if he lets it happen again. Kojiro is back. He is back for good and he promised he wouldn't leave Kaoru again. Unless they are traveling together Kaoru has zero interest in leaving. Maybe traveling isn't such a bad idea. 

"I love you," Kaoru said casually as he finished off the last of his drink before setting the glass down. His finger tips are wet from the condensation but he is able to quickly dry them when he grabs Kojiro by the front of his shirt so the other has to face him. It is practically half unbuttoned. 

"Hm?" Kojiro is clearly caught off guard by Kaoru saying it first. 

Kaoru knows that the first time this happened — the first time when Kojiro sounded so miserable — he had been drunk to the point of practically guilting Kaoru with his feelings, but last time? When Kaoru still wore his piercings and Kojiro didn't have quite as much hair, there was no way Kojiro had been drunk when he had them share a cigarette as he practically pinned Kaoru to the wall. 

"I love you," Kaoru said again. "I have loved you since middle school. No — I loved you before I even knew what the concept of love was. I love you more than I ever loved Adam. So stop hiding behind your liquid courage and love me back already," Kaoru said firmly, or at least he tried to sound firm. Instead his voice shook at the end and he turned to look away. He couldn't meet the other’s gaze. His grip on the other’s shirt loosening before his hand fell all together when Kojiro didn't immediately respond. 

Then Kojiro tilted his head so they could look at one another.

"I love you too," he breathed and suddenly he didn't sound nearly as drunk. Kaoru supposed he could never criticize his acting again.  

"Take me home?" Kaoru asked. 

Kojiro responded by gently pressing a kiss to his lips. Just the firm press of lips against one another over and over and over until they had shared many first kisses. 

"Yeah," Kojiro whispered, "let's go home." 

[ssa-steverogers]

𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙜𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙨

pairing ╏ aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count ╏ 2.4k

summary ╏ a couple years have passed, and aaron and reader begin to question their status; inspired by two ghosts by harry styles

warnings ╏ none (?) please tell me if i missed anything x

note ╏ guys. i haven't written fanfics for like three years!1!!1!1! so i apologize in advance for any mistakes and grammar errors! i do hope you enjoy though! and also for the sake of the fic, jack and haley don't exist sorry guys lol and the ending is kind of bonk bonk but leave a like, comment, or reblog if you want! <3

I couldn’t pick up the phone. I sat back on the chair in the apartment we bought a couple years ago. But it tasted bittersweet just thinking about it; something I was supposed to cherish but couldn’t. The two plates of food on the table were now dull. What was once smoking and bled with heat was now encrusted in a dry film; unappetizing.

The phone continued to ring. Once. Twice. A pause. Once. Twice. Three times. But after the eleventh call, I figured he stopped. Aaron had forgotten his key that morning. It's almost humorous how he could tell the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath in his sleep but forgot the simplest things like our house key. And our fifth anniversary.

Earlier today, I had asked Aaron to go home early. But even after five years of marriage, eight of living together, and ten of dating, he couldn’t seem to care less of my whereabouts lately. Distracted, distant, and rigid.

“Hotch,” I swung into his dimly lit office earlier that day, “I'm going to be headed home early tonight. I-“

“Alright, see you at home,” Aaron continued writing his paperwork and took half a second to glance up at me. It’s unclear if he meant to cut me off or not but it didn’t matter because it would’ve hurt either way. Distant, I thought. A quick look at his office and nothing would’ve seemed different but I thought I saw more clutter than usual.

“Okay, well... I’ll see you tonight. Don’t be late!” I tried to look past it, for now. I blew a kiss his way and he looked up to smile at me briefly. The smile reached his eyes but I couldn't tell if it was genuine. His pen didn’t stop writing. Distracted, I thought. “Bye, I love you,” I breathed out and quickly shut the door, walking out to gather my stuff. I didn’t wait for his reply; unsure if he even had one. I wondered what he’d say. And if it’d hurt more than what his words didn’t say.

Looking at my watch on the way to my desk, it was half past four and it was clear to say that no one was done with paperwork yet.

“Where are you going?” Spencer questions, catching Emily’s attention. She looks up from her pile of work as well.

“Well, things to do and places to be,” I smiled at the two, putting my tablet into my bag. I grabbed my gun from my drawer and put it to my holster. Emily smiled knowingly. She knew it was me and Aaron’s fifth anniversary. Emily even helped pick out the perfect outfit for tonight’s homemade dinner. She also knew about Aaron’s behavior lately. We both thought of it and we discussed every scenario except the worst one yet. He wouldn’t do that to me, I would think to myself, not after what Haley did to him. It was the unspoken what if that I wasn't ready to swallow yet.

Emily and Spencer waved me goodbye and she wished me good luck, along with a smile that was poisoned in pity. I was almost entirely sure it wasn’t on purpose but I wasn’t sure of anything at that point. I walked out the door, into the elevator, and it felt so repetitive. The same elevator every day, the same building every day, living the same life every single day. I’d casually mention to Aaron how the repetition felt like a lot sometimes over paperwork in our office at home and he’d hum quietly. Maybe in agreement. We both loved our job. The same thing every time; but we were saving lives. Maybe it was the effect of his changed behavior. Maybe he felt it because he thought my behavior changed as well.

The same thing every time; coming home separately, even though we used to come back together. We were drifting and although it wasn’t the first time, we always resolved it. Things happen and we’d come out stronger and I had never had a doubt. Sometimes the job was hard and I was there for him, and he was there for me but it was different this time. He'd come home late and I'd be asleep by the time he got back. Then, I started to do paperwork at the local coffee shop and he’d be sitting in our office, waiting for me to get back.

No words would be exchanged once we were together for the night. Maybe a ‘hey’ or ‘how was your day?’ and then a simple ‘good.’ We’d both change our clothes and get into the bed. We were getting further and further away every night in bed. Too exhausted to think of words for this odd place we were in. Sometimes he'd hug me and take a deep breath and I'd release a breath I didn't know I was holding. Something was just not working this time. Trust your gut, Aaron used to say to me when I first joined the BAU. My gut told me that this couldn’t keep on going at the rate this seemed to be deteriorating.

All these moments led to right now. The phone rings beside me as Aaron waits outside in the drizzling rain at eight o’clock, without the key that he forgot this morning. I unlocked my phone to read the messages exchanged earlier tonight.

today 7:40

y/n: hey aaron are you still at the office?

love: Yes, is there something going on?

y/n: aaron

love: Yes?

y/n: oh you forgot, didn’t you?

love: Forgot?

y/n: aaron, it’s our anniversary?

read 7:46

I purse my lips and wonder if he still loves me. Of course, he does, my mind wanders, would he have been with you for ten years if he didn’t? I chuckle sadly. The food on the table now cold, the outfit Emily and I chose doesn’t seem so perfect anymore. The candles on the tables nearly half melted. The dining room looked eerie now, sitting by myself on a Thursday night with two uneaten plates of food with candles nearly burnt out.

That’s when I hear him knocking on the door gently.

“Y/N? Please let me in. I didn't forget, I just,” Aaron’s sigh is muffled by the door but I hear it clear as day when I get out of my seat and walk up to the door. I think he hears me walking to the front and continues. “I was distracted. Something isn’t right between us right now and we should talk about it. I’m sorry, Y/N, please let me in so we can talk.” I sigh in defeat and unlock the door, slowly. The door opens and his hair is flat from the rain, briefcase tucked under his arm with his phone in the other hand. But his posture isn’t as upright as it usually is – he probably knows he fucked up. I wonder if he’s been profiling me from my texts, or my current body language even though we promised we wouldn’t do that to each other.

He walks through the threshold of this house but his eyes don’t waver from mine as he sets his stuff down and puts his gun away in the drawer. A glimmer of his keys reflects the light in the drawer. It’s almost funny, how he remembers his gun but not his keys even though they were in the exact same place. It makes me wonder about the integrity of our situation and if he had left the keys on purpose.

I walk to the dining table with the food I made and turn away from Aaron. I’m not sure about what to say. I've obviously been avoiding this conversation for quite some time and even after all this procrastination; I still don’t even know what to say. I hear Aaron's footsteps from behind me and I wait to see if he has anything to say. After I'm sure that he doesn’t, I begin.

“Aaron,” I turn around to face him. I smile grimly, feeling tears prickle at the back of my eyes and it hurts to swallow, “What the hell happened to us?” Aaron stands there, arms crossed and a hand on his chin. Crossing arms suggests closing yourself off and is a gesture of defensiveness. “What happened to our Thursday night dates? Aaron- I don’t- I mean,” I struggle to complete a sentence when millions of thoughts are racing through my head, “I know you’re not happy. Sure, maybe everyone thinks that you don’t show a lot of emotion but I know you and you have a tell for specific things. When was the last time we really talked about how we felt about us? C’mon, Aaron, who are we bullshitting? We weren’t communicating and you know that it’s one of the most important parts of a healthy relationship.”

“Why are you using past tense?” Aaron asks and he’s doing the face he only gives to people he thinks are suspicious.

“What are you talking about? And why are you giving me that face?” I pause and Aaron tries to cut in but I get to it first. I make a face and pull my eyebrows together. “Are you profiling me right now?”

Aaron looks taken aback at my comment. “Are you?” Oh. When I don’t say anything he continues, “You’re using past tense when you mention our… marriage and relationship. If you have anything you want to say you should say it now. There really isn’t a better time,” His voice grows cold on me, the same way he does to unsubs we interrogate. I don’t think the ice in his tone is intentional but he probably can’t help it. He’s right though, should I confirm my suspicions? I don’t want to hear his answer to my question in fear that it might be the wrong one. But he is right, this conversation is long overdue.

“Are you cheating on me?” I breathe out at once. “Are you?” The tears are getting harder and harder to hold back and time seems to move slower by the second.

“Y/N, what? No, I'm not! Why would you think that? I could never do that to you. You know about Haley and how she cheated! And you think I'd do that to you?”

“You were just distant lately and-“

“Distant?” He pauses, I know he wouldn’t interrupt me if not necessary so I let him go on, “Y/N, so are you. I didn't think you were cheating. I thought you needed time and that I needed mine. I had thought about what you had said a couple weeks ago about how repetitive life felt.” I nodded at his words. “You’re not the only one who thinks that.” A pang of guilt radiates in my chest, because I think we both know how this was going to end.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” I walk a little closer to him and cradle his face in my hands. He rubs circles on my wrists, caressing me and I do the same to his face. Tears are spilling from my eyes, down my cheeks, “Aaron Hotchner, I love you more than anything in this whole entire fucking world. I know you love me and that I love you but you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met in my life and we both know what’s coming. It’s been unspoken for too long, I know that. But whatever happens, you have to know that I love you. We had our good days,” I look around to see picture frames on the walls of our relationship in earlier stages. Smiling, dancing, laughing. I remember each and every one of the pictures and thinking that this would be the man I would love for the rest of my days. “And we had bad days. There will never come a day that I forget all the wonderful things that we had. I’m using past tense now because I think-“

“I think you’re right,” Aaron quietly cuts me off. “We’re not the people we used to be. We’ve changed but we can’t grow like this. I love you too, more than words will ever be able to encompass but maybe we’re feeling stuck, not bored or repetitive.” I want to say something for the hell of being a couple for probably the last moments but I don’t want to stray far from the truth. Aaron’s eyebrows turn downwards a bit and his eyes are glimmering with tears. He envelopes my body in his and leaves a quiet kiss on my hairline.

I take a deep breath of air, trying to savor this moment for the rest of my life. My face is wet from tears and they won’t stop falling. I hiccup from the crying in his grasp so he plays with my hair fondly and almost inaudibly hums to me.

“Will we be okay? I mean,” A hiccup, or three. “I don’t want either of us to leave the BAU because of this but also will we be okay? In terms of feelings and… well, more feelings.”

“Of course,” Aaron begins. “I don’t love you any less but we both agree that things will be better this way. We just... go back to how it used to be before you asked me to a drink for the first time,” I can feel his small grin as he leans against my head. Being reminded of that day hurts now, but it has for a while anyway. I wonder if I hadn’t asked him to that drink one night after a local case, if we’d be where we are now. But I know everything here was nothing less than fate itself and that I probably shouldn’t dwell on what if’s.

And so after some moments of silence for something that would soon be gone, we stand underneath the dim lights of the dining room. Aaron holds me against his chest as we look at the candles on the table. They’re both burnt out. There’s no light there anymore. The candle has melted onto the chamberstick, leaving long trails of wax.

I hold him a little tighter and he does the same to me. I don’t know what the future holds but our two halves have drifted too far to come back together and that’s okay. I know things will be weird for a while but it’ll be okay.

“It’ll be okay,” I whisper under my breath. For the sake of us, we'd leave it here. Once upon a time, we were younger and more naive, better for each other then. But we're older now and we're stuck. Just two ghosts standing in the place of him and me.

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret

REAL LIFE SCANDAL COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: CUTE

Thomas sat on the sofa holding a cup of tea, he looked stressed, tried, exhausted, holding his mug like it was a about to be violently ripped away from him. "So. Some shit had happened" he says "and... I am doing this, so I can sit down and just. Explain. Because alot of things have changed, most of you know some of them. Some of you might know none of them but never the less, I shall explain them" he says sipping his tea "y/n is not here, well she is but... Upstairs, she knows I'm filming thought" he says "I don't know quite where to start so... Let's try the beginning" he began "back many many years ago when me and y/n first met, I had a crush on her that's not a secret that's something I think most people know. Because she worked in the garage I was working in and I just... I had a crush a little just teenage boy crush on her and we both dated other people and grew closer and friends as the years went on and then we found ourselves single at the same time and I just kinda went for it I asked, she wasn't actually that enthusiastic if I remember correctly I think her actual response was uhh yeah sure why not which I'm not gonna like doesn't fill you with confidence" he laughs "and we just kinda clicked. It was like being freinds but longer, and we'd kiss, and cuddle, and hang outs turned into date nights, and weekend trips turned into romantic getaways, and... We were happy" he smiled "we decided very early on, that I wasn't something we wanted to be public with, we didn't want to be social media, or on camera anything like that partly just to keep that part of our lives privet because there is so much you expose with interviews and with cameras around all the time there is a lot you expose about yourself and your life and I think we just wanted to have something that was ours that was our secret, but the secret is not so secret anyone." He says having some more tea "I think part of it was natural in the sense that we became lazier with it, we stopped censoring ourselves and limiting what we could do because... We're where happy, we where overexcited like you always are when your in a relationship you start to let your guard down alot more and it became atleast I felt like more of covering it up that became important, I agreed with it initially but when we started getting later into the relationship I started to not like it as much because.... I love her, and I don't want to cover that up, I don't want to have scheduled times when I can and can't kiss and cuddle my girlfriend, I wanted to tell friends about us, I wanted to tell Interviews and magazines about her but I couldn't and that started to... Not annoy me but frustrate me" he explained "but she still had a point people where still going to bother us and it was making something public that we wanted to keep privet. So we made backstories and plots to hide it and to explain everything, And... I do believe the video got put up by sally the outtakes of us talking and know everything has been released I guess some things are... Kinda obvious but here we go. I am officially for the first time in here, I am telling the truth, the complete uncensored truth." He says "you wanna help me out here sweetheart?" He asks to off camera "Are you and y/n dating?" Y/n asks off screen "Yes." "What is going on with the house I swear one day the sofa is in one house the next it's in the other" she giggled clearly reading questions "It's bullshit. It's one house, two bedrooms, one bathroom, one kitchen, we just moved it around and used... Angles and stuff the two houses is bullshit, we have loved together for about nine years we first moved In together into the flat where she first brought home hopscotch, the clip of me meeting hopscotch, I moved in about two weeks after that" "Is sally fired?" "Sally is not fired. Stuffs been worked out she's fine she's happy, editing away I assume, now I say that she'll probably do something mean and put like a dick overlay on my head or something" he sighed "You'll have to find out" "I Will. I will" he laughs "Where are hopscotch and jellybean?" "In there room, with there babies still all good just not been filming them" "Why are videos out of order?" "Because some things take longer to edit that's why something are out of order and why some videos get scrapped complete and are never finished, because by the time you cut it all out there is nothing left" "Are you ever gonna tell us how the Barbie cake tasted?" "No. That shit haunts my nightmares I would not wish that knowledge on anyone" "Are you ever gonna get married?" ".... Hum. That's a fun question, can I or do you?" "You do it your the one answering" "Okay, the answer to that is no. We are not gonna get married, because... We already are married, three years and we're very happy" "Semi happy" "Quiet you" he told her "Fun fact, Thomas on our wedding night attempted to get a lighter and set our marriage certificate in fire while swearing at me and saying good luck trying to get rid of me now! You can't return me without the receipt! And then jumped in a swimming pool" "I did that's true. I was fairly drunk" "Fairly?" "I think every single person at our wedding handed me a shot and I downed all of them I was handed which was a bad plan but there we go" "I think Jack and the boys caught on to that you where just shooting anything you where handed because they started giving you like fucking triple vodkas" "They did It was a weird day," "It was, have you stopped smoking?" "Yes. I was given the choice stop smoking on my own or loose a centimeter of my dick everytime she caught me with a cigarette so... I gave up" "You had to" "I did that's true." "Last two" "Oohh last two!" "What happened in the last video?" "In the last video, I had a bit of a meltdown because sally had revealed things, stuff was coming out without our control, the glass had been broken, the secret was out and we were in damage control twenty four hours a day damage control, and I just kinda snapped and obviously... I couldn't take it anymore, I didn't want the secrets, the bullshit, I just wanted to be... Happy. And, I think now that everything is in the open I think we can be" "What happened to y/n in the last video?" "Ooh okay, your okay?" 'yeah go on" "I don't know if this had come out or not but... What happened to y/n in the last video was a very very special moment that we caught on camera." He smiled "she all done?" "Yep" "Come on let me hold her" he whines putting his tea down y/n came from off screen in a little baggy blue dress holding a small baby in a blanket she carefully handed the baby over to him and he smiled widely giving the baby kisses and cuddles "hi, hello there little one, not thirsty anymore? Good girl" he cooed to her "this is Maggie. Maggie Sangster. She's uhhh... Help me" "Three weeks old" "Yes, three weeks old. You went into labor on camera" "I did, I'll talk you focus on holding the baby. I went into labor on camera, early which isn't an uncommon thing to be that early we just kinda had heart attacks which I think is fair. And yeah we went to the hospital and this little one was born." "So. We're going to be posting old stuff that didn't get posted before atleast till this one is a tad more manageable" "I have one more question though for the truth time Thomas?" "Yes?" "So you love y/n? Really?" "With all my heart sweetheart" he smiled giving her a kiss which made Maggie cry "alright, come on angel bed time" he told her kissing her little head and taking her off camera.

[collecting-stories]

Ten Years - JJ Maybank

Request: could u write something abt y/n and jj who have been together since they were like 12 and just make it super fluffy🥰

A/N: so there wasn’t really like, a full plot request so I just kinda went with this...hope you like it!

Outer Banks Masterlist

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

JJ stood in the entrance to the dressing room, phone in hand as he texted back and forth with Pope and swiped through different online stores. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of actual trousers, a far cry from the cheap ones he used to wear when he bused tables at the island club. He was supposed to be trying on different suits but it’d taken you an hour just to get him into these pants, you couldn’t imagine how the rest of the shopping trip was going to go. 

“Matching sweatshirts?” JJ asked, holding his phone out to show you a picture of dorky matching sweatshirts that said ‘player 1’ and ‘player 2’ respectively.  

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you rubbed a hand against your forehead and took a deep breath. You should have known that trying to shop would go south with JJ. “I love you so much but there is no way in hell I’m wearing matching sweatshirts with you.” 

“I can’t believe you’re not gonna wear matching sweatshirts with me.” JJ whined, pulling his phone away to send the picture to Pope. “I’m gonna get a new girlfriend who will.”   

“Ask Pope.”

“I am.” He replied, continuing to text.  

“Not right now JJ! You’re supposed to be getting a suit anyway, not standing around on your phone shopping for cheesy sweatshirts.” You sighed, finally standing up from the ottoman that was available for seating outside the dressing room. You tried to grab his phone from him but he slid away, socked feet gliding on the laminated floor. He backed further into the dressing area, toward the stall you’d ushered him into earlier.  

“What if you didn’t have to wear it out?” He asked, holding his phone out of reach when you tried to grab it again. As much as you enjoyed the sight of JJ in nothing but a pair of nice pants, and you did enjoy the sight quite a lot, he was starting to get on your last nerve. Especially when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you against him, still holding the phone away with his other hand.  

“So what I’m just gonna walk around our house wearing a sweatshirt?” You asked. The little blue ranch house that you and JJ were renting on the cut was set back a little from the road but it wasn’t entirely void of neighbors. Not to mention the amount of times any of the pogues dropped in without warning. When you looked up at him you realized his eyes had glazed over, pupils dilated as he stared, completely unashamed, right down the front of your tank top. “JJ!”

“What...you in only a sweatshirt? Let’s skip all this and go straight to the honeymoon.” He suggested, grinning as he leaned in to kiss you.  

You let him, though you finally gave in to the eyeroll as he pulled away from you. It was like trying to corral a child into doing something. “Not exactly doing the big tent wedding here J. Now pick a suit.” 

“But if you don’t have to go out?” He whined, mind still on his stupid sweatshirt idea. You’d never matched clothes before and you’d heard him on more than one occasion mock couples who did, so why he was suddenly interested in the cheesy tradition was beyond you.  

“Oh my god, buy the sweatshirt, please.” You groaned, stepping completely away and heading back out of the dressing room, “but finish trying on suits first!”  

“Love you!” 

Your mom wanted a big wedding with all the people she was friends with invited as well as family members none of you had even seen in your lifetime but you had refused. It felt silly to do the big white wedding, silly and costly and not like you and JJ at all. The money saved for it had been spent on converting a VW bus that was a nicer version of the Twinkie, that he had parked out front of the house you’d been renting together since you turned nineteen.  

Still, even without the wedding, you wanted a semi-nice dress and him in a suit when the two of you went to City Hall at the end of the week to get married.  

Married. You were waiting for the word to make you feel different but so far it just felt normal. Like it was just supposed to happen.  

-

“Why are your eyes covered?” You laughed, walking into the living room to see JJ standing there in his suit with his hands covering his eyes. He’d obviously just been smoking before you came in because his juul was still in his hand too, trapped between his fingers.  

“I don’t wanna see you before the wedding!” He exclaimed.  

“You’re driving,” You laughed, grabbing at his hands. When you pulled them away he had his eyes shut. “JJ, open your eyes.” 

He opened one eye and then the other, slowing smiling as he took in the sight of you in the simple white dress, you’d picked out with Sarah a few weeks ago. It’d been sitting wrapped up in the closet so he couldn’t see it without you in it. “You look really beautiful.” He finally said, kissing you. “You’d look even more beautiful in matching sweatshirts.” JJ teased.  

“Oh my god JJ. I’m not wearing matching sweatshirts to get married.” You replied, taking the juul from him so you could put it away.  

“Then I guess the dress works.”

“Wow thanks.” You laughed.

Before you could walk away from him JJ grabbed your arm, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, before we go-“

“We have like thirty minutes to get there.” You said, cutting him off. There was no way the two of you were going to make it in time.  

“It’ll be quick, promise.”

“What?” 

“I know we’re not doing vows but I didn’t exactly get any points for a romantic proposal either...considering. So I just wanted to say something before we leave, without everyone else around.”   

JJ’s ‘proposal’ had come about on a Tuesday morning. It wasn’t romantic, there wasn’t even a ring picked out yet. Instead JJ had been sitting on the other side of the island, trying to steal pieces of bacon off of Pope’s plate while he was in the bathroom, when you told him that your mom was giving you a hard time about the two of you living together.  

Your mom’s favorite words were ‘just a phase’ when she talked about you and JJ. It was just a phase that you were going through that had you attracted to someone she viewed as a ‘bad boy’ in every cliched sense of the term. Though you highly doubted at 22 that it was a phase. Especially when you’d spent the last ten years basically dating. Since the 6th grade winter formal when JJ asked you to dance with him.  

“She said ‘once you get out from under that roof you’ll see’ and I told her that I’m never moving. We’re gonna like get married and get a cat and have windchimes like Lana.” You had said, smacking JJ’s hand, “stop eating Pope’s food.”

“He abandoned it.” JJ pointed out.

“He’s in the bathroom, stop it.” You said, waving the spatula at him. “Anyway...she just...” you groaned, “I can’t stand when she does that like. We’re not in highschool anymore. Why can’t she drop the whole ‘this is temporary’ thing like...do you see these four walls? Not temporary.”

“Marry me?”

“What?” You froze, spatula in hand, staring at him in surprise.  

“Marry me.” He shrugged. “You said it yourself, this isn’t temporary. So, marry me.”

The wedding day, though it wasn’t really a wedding, had come quicker than the two of you had expected and now, if you weren’t out the door in five minutes, you knew that you’d be late. JJ was an erratic driver but nothing would get you to the other side of the island on time.  

“You’re gonna make me cry before we even get to the courthouse?” You asked, already feeling yourself get teared up. “That’s mean JJ.”

“I just want you to know,” He started to say, trying not to laugh when he realized you were starting to cry, “hey, come on...I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“I know, I know I just-” you looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times, “oh god this mascara isn’t waterproof.”

“We’ll survive if your makeup doesn’t stay intact.” He promised.  

“JJ!” You laughed. “Okay fine, go, I won’t cry. I just...won’t look at you.”  

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“Just say the thing.” You insisted, waving your hand for him to go ahead.  

“When I asked you to marry me it was spur of the moment but it wasn’t just something I said because I thought it’d be fun or cute or whatever. We’ve been through...hell...together and I know how hard it's been and there isn’t any guarantee that it won’t be hard-”

“That sounds awesome,” you laughed but JJ could already hear the slight crack in your voice.  

“-shut up. You never let me finish anything.”  

“I do too!”

“You literally just interrupted me trying to be nice and tell you something romantic.”

“I’m sorry...go ahead.”

“No, the moment’s ruined.” JJ shrugged, grabbing his backpack off the table so that the two of you could leave.

You grabbed JJ’s hand, trying to pull him back toward the middle of the living room and away from the door, “no finish, tell me!”

“Fine, fine. You’re such a brat.” He laughed, “I was gonna say-”

The door opened and you groaned as Pope stuck his head in, “yo...guys, lets go.”  

“Hold on!” You whined and JJ wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and kissing your forehead.

“I’ll tell you later, while we’re in our matching sweatshirts.”

“Unbelieveable.”

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj  @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @jolomez @timotaychalabae  @summerkaulitz 

[ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa]

Addicted to You

Part 1: The Chain

Summary/Author's Note: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago "Pope" Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his--the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission. (Follows Canon events very closely with added character and liberties) Thank you to @winters-buck for headcanoning with me about Frankie and getting me pumped up enough to write this.

Pairing: Frankie "Catfish" Morales x Pope's sister!Reader Word Count: 4.6k (idk what happened...) Warnings/rating: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smoking, implied drug use, PTSD, sex/smut, kidnapping, blood, violence, threats, fluff and feelings

MASTERLIST

Present Day Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago "Pope" Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

"What did he say?" Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

"He's taking a look at it," Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "He may not be up for this."

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name 'Redfly' had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn't on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

"You know he's the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now," Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

"This shit is fuckin depressing," he said.

"Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him." Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will's brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn't a big deal.

"I've been supporting him since the day he was born." Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. "That kid's a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies."

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

"Where are my boys at?!" He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

"Benny! There he is!" Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

"Hey, shithead," a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie "Catfish" Morales, known mostly by 'cat' or 'fish' to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn't hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

"How' you doing?" Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

"Hanging in there, I guess." Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. "Is Tom coming?"

"Yeah, he said he would be here," Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. "You assholes get my texts?"

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope's eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

"Yeah," Frankie finally broke the silence. "Yeah I got your texts."

"And? I need a pilot." Pope looked at his best friend.

"I don't do that anymore, man." Frankie shook his head and sighed. "Besides, I lost my license."

"I don't need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that's you." Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. "Will, you in?"

"I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I." Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

"And what about you, Benny?" Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

"Of course I'm in."

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

"Fuck," Frankie sighed and shook his head. "So, what's the job?"

"Can we talk details later? It's fight night--I got other shit to think about." Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

"Sure, wouldn't want you to be late," Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope's shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

"So, I got busted. That's why my license lapsed. It's not a big deal." He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. "Okay, so it is a big deal."

Pope turned and looked at him. "Coke?" When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Cat."

"It's still pending. But I'm clean now--I swear."

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn't have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

"Hey," Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. "Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How--uh, how's she doing?"

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him--even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

"She's uh--she's good. Took a job down south, but I haven't heard from her this week." It wasn't a total lie. Pope didn't look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn't want to. "So, what is this job really? What aren't you telling me?"

Pope looked over his shoulder, "It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight."

"Sure, whatever you say, man," he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. "I'm in." Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn't he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn't? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back--that's the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back...or burn the whole country down trying.

--

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it--you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other's drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke--musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, "Wanna get out of here?" And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other's lips, but that wasn't happening.

"Bedroom or couch?" You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. "Both." The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. "Kitchen. Floor. Shower." He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

"Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?"

"Yup," he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. "And they all involve you."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

"Frankie," you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

"Tell me, baby," he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

"I missed you," you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. "I missed you, too."

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

"You still like that?" He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

"What do you think?" You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. "You always were a boob man."

"For your perfect tits? Absolutely." He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

"Charming." You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

"You always thought so."

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

"My turn," you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he sighed as he watched you. "You're killing me."

"You still like that?" You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

"Smart ass."

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

"I'm sorry," he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. "Come here. Come here, baby."

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

"Shit," he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. "You're so wet."

"You love it," you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

"Always have," he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren't sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

"You ready, baby?"

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. "Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please." You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn't be satisfied no matter how close you were.

"I missed you," he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

"You said that already," you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

"And I'll say it again," he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

"Charmer," you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. "You feel so good, baby."

"Don't stop," you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. "Harder, Cat, harder, please."

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. "Look at me." You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. "God damn, you're so beautiful," he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

"I'm gonna cum, Cat-" you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

"Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you," he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

"Sorry," you laughed softly and he chuckled.

"We still got it, don't we?" He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

"I never had any doubts." You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

"You want me to head out soon?" He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. "No, stay the night. Please." You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

"Sure thing, sweetheart." He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn't last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way--life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

---

Present Day Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren't sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn't know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea's men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn't make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

"Stop, stop," you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. "You don't have to do this--" The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn't understand English or because he didn't care, you weren't sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.

Tag List: @stevieharrrr​ @zeldasayer​ @winters-buck​ @seawhisperer​ If you wanna be tagged, lemmie know!