#on sunny days it is stupid hot in this room

[lalunanymph]

KILLSHOT

sypnosis when fate gives you back your supposedly “dead” foster childhood bestfriend who is now the colonel of one of the most powerful fleets in the world, what else is there to do but fuck him right in the interrogation room? 

warnings interrogation, caleb is mean for like 0.24848 seconds cause lbr he is a puppy of a man, drugging, drugged sex, improper use of evol, collaring, mutual pining, biting, marking, betrayal, mindfuck, injuries, mentions of blood, psychological warfare, seduction, fighting, hurt and comfort, angst, potential spoilers for “farspace deprivation” and “farspace bloomfall”, dark themes, hate sex, cervix fucking, fingers in mouth, sucking on gloved fingers, gunplay, degradation, undertones of Dom/sub, oral sex, kink, bratting, disciplining, after effects of interrogations, unprotected sex, ceiling sex, grieving, spoilers for chapter 4, mentions of death, aftercare, cuddling, guilt, repressed emotions, 18+

dawn says caleb girlies RISE UP oh we are eating so good our man is back home and you KNOW i had to write about his hot new glowup in that slutty colonel outfit,...

Yet again, you’re in the thick of trouble.

They said curiosity killed the cat, and this time, you had little doubt of coming out alive. But, it can hardly be classified as your fault. 

It was a stupid lead. A blind coordinate Nero sent to you, leading you to stumble right into the heart of a military operation unauthorized. In the world of bureaucracy and red tape, it’s as good as being dead.

Now, you’re being led away, bound and blindfolded with no one to blame but yourself for your shitty luck and foresight. 

Whoever is leading you to your certain death stops in his tracks, nudging you into a cool room. You’re made to sit on a hard chair, and within seconds, your wrists are untied only to be bound again to the chair’s arms and something hard and circular is snapped onto your neck. 

“Unh—” you gasp when you hear the soft whir of the device starting. A sudden pressure wraps around your body, holding you back from resonating. Without your Evol, you’re defenceless and whoever has captured you knows it. 

“Don��t resist.” 

A cold voice pierces the silence. You stop squirming and peel your ears.

“W-who’s there?” You curse the stutter in your question, the trembling underlying your show of courage.

A Hunter resists and never gives up intel easily. Evasion Interrogation Class 101. You weren’t going to cave without a fight. 

The slow approach of boots on the hard floor thumps like the blood rushing through your ears. You tense, feeling the other person’s presence before you. 

Light floods your senses, and your eyes pry open when the blindfold is whipped off your face. You blink, trying to focus on the dark spot standing right in front of you. The furrow of his brow is the first thing you notice, then those piercing violet eyes.

No…

“Hey… Pipsqueak.” 

Your blood turns to ice in your veins, fear shooting up your spine.

It can’t be… you struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing, feeling your stomach dropping heavily right into the soles of your Hunter boots. It can’t… 

You mourned him. You watched your entire family—your world—go up in flames.

This stranger wearing his face sits down in front of you, legs spreading with ease under the stretch of his starched white pants. He’s in a decorated jacket, one you’ve never seen him wear before. It’s like the memory of all that you once knew of Caleb is corrupted with a dark veneer, giving way to this tainted version sitting before you with barely any emotion in his eyes.  

The familiar slope of his features, the same ones you’ve seen throughout the years, changing and growing, as intimate to you as your own breath, is cold and distant. 

Warm sunny days, the smell of freshly cut grass, a hand holding yours through the rain…

It disappears in a flash of lightning, the dark clouds rolling behind him like the dread churning right in your gut. 

Your voice is soft, fringed with disbelief, as the shock renders you immobile to the chair. 

“What?” He quips, and a shadow of his old smile appears. But, where there was once familiarity, now there only exists the ruins of everything you held dear. 

“Don’t you recognize me?” 

It’s as if he’s goading you. 

He picks up an apple from the centerpiece on the table next to the chair he has you strapped in, and holds it in his hand like it would give him all the answers in the world. His pensive gaze, those once wondrous violet eyes catching the last of the sun’s rays as it disappeared over a river, cloud over with an undeniable oppression. 

He can’t even look at you properly. 

“Did you honestly think I would always be the kind-hearted boy from your childhood?” 

Like a horror show unfolding, he lifts his gaze, looking right into your depths, as the snap of the apple's skin gives way to the tension of his jaws. A bit of its juice dribbles onto his lower lip, and you force yourself to tear your eyes away, needing to retain your wits. Caleb sets the fruit down, chewing thoughtfully, before lifting it to your lips. 

“Eat,” he murmurs softly, a shadow of his old self on the tired terrain of his face. “You must be starving.”

The sweet boy from your past can’t be coincided with this cold man right in front of you. Where you would’ve leapt at the opportunity to taste any dish from the labor of his kind hands, you fear this forbidden bite would poison you the second his tainted fruit touched your lips. 

Turning your head away, you glare at the rain-slicked windows, trying to hide the sting in your eyes.

Caleb, knowing how stubborn you can be, sighs and drops his olive branch offering.

“Fine.” His voice is flat. Unemotional. “Let’s get to the bottom of things, then.”

He stands, and you feel a fissure of fear opening in your chest when he retrieves his baton, removing his military cap and tossing it onto the table. 

“Why’re you here?” 

You refuse to open your mouth, glaring at him. Caleb shakes his head.

“You always have to make things so hard for me, don’t you, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs and steps closer to you, the fire in his violet gaze crackling. “You’ve always been insufferable since we were kids. Now—” he frowns. “—why are you here? And how did you find this place?” 

You find your voice, croaking out, “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to? Are you sure?” He cuts you off coldly. Caleb straightens and adjusts his gloves. There’s a hint of a smile on his face, though it’s corrupted by the detachment oozing from his suddenly frosty demeanour. “You expect me to believe that? That you just stumbled into the scene like a stray kitten?” 

When you don’t speak, he sighs, kneeling down to your height. The warmth of his eyes is back and a lump forms in your throat.

“Caleb…” your whisper is soft. Tentative. He senses a chink in your defenses, a drop of blood in the ocean, and the gleam of his teeth reminds you of a shark.

“All you have to do is answer my questions, Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?” That same, mischievous smile plays on the corners of his lips, though it sends a chill down your spine, instead. “There’s more than one pair of eyes observing you in this room so I suggest you play nice.”

He pulls back again, depriving you of his warmth. “Now that you understand, we can have a friendly chat, hmm, Pips?” When you refuse to look at him, or give any indication you’re willing to cooperate, he sighs. 

Instantly, the sensation of a thousand bricks falling onto your shoulders hits you, and you scream, almost crushed by the pressure. Caleb uses this momentary distraction to kneel down and lock your ankles to the chair’s legs and snap a band around your right wrist, his other hand gently running the ghost of his touch up your ankle. The forcefield of his Evol deters him from ever touching your skin, and if you could look closer, you would’ve seen his throat bobbing from a harsh swallow.

“Do you remember that injured cat you brought back home? Back when we were kids?” He glares up at you. “I got a collar with a bell. That way, it couldn't escape without being noisy,” he gently squeezes your knee. “The same can be said for you—you’re not allowed to leave me again.” 

As he speaks, something sharp pokes your neck and you flinch. While your eyes are on him, the room starts to spin, and before you know it, you’re hunched over the chair, gasping and shaking.

“Caleb,” your voice sounds like you’re whispering from under the sea. “W-what’s—?”

“Don’t worry,” his reassurances warble back. “It won’t harm you—images in your brain,” his words flicker through your consciousness and you feel the collar tightening around your throat.

Shit… He had sanctioned a drug to be shot into your system. 

Your woozy eyes keep on sliding back to the floor. 

Caleb has drugged me.

“Where did you find the coordinates to this place?” 

You’re fighting a losing battle trying to keep your composure. Everything feels too loud—too bright. Digging your nails into the chair’s arms, you grit your teeth, fighting back against the wave of vertigo threatening to take you under. You feel like you’re on a rollercoaster, out of breath, the ground dangling far from your feet. Every sharp inhale you take makes you float higher and higher, till you think your brain would burst from the stratosphere of your skull.

Nero… Nero knew this… and he let you walk right into it.

Nero… The sound of Caleb’s voice pierces through your mind like bright light cutting past the fog. That’s good, Pipsqueak. That’s my good girl… Is Nero your colleague?

You think of him, in his horn-rimmed glasses, hunched over his screen.

Good, Caleb’s voice soothes you, a lifeline through this impenetrable fog your mind has settled in. And, why are you here?

The image of his dog tag with the apple charm takes over your mind, and it hits you too late that Caleb can possibly see your thoughts unfold. 

What are the possibilities that you can fight this? Your brain races. You feel like an astronaut stranded in space, isolated from gravity and light, as your spacesuit begins to fill up with water, almost drowning you.

A sharp jab to your chest makes your eyes flutter open, and his baton is pointed right at the apple charm hanging around your neck. Something softer, presumably made out of hide, brushes your chin as he studies the charm in between his fingers, his expression unreadable. 

“It’ll all be over soon,” he whispers, the switch flipping, “As long as you keep on cooperating.” 

You lean into his reassurances, a whimper slipping past your gritted teeth. 

“I know, I know,” he soothes, and stands before you, his hands clenched into fists. “But, it’s for your own good. Just a little longer, Pips.” 

He asks his final question: “Were you trailed?” 

You can’t stop the next thought from forming in your head of your Hunter’s watch. Instantly, the band is ripped from your wrist, and you hear a loud crunch. The air thickens and you close your eyes, trying to find your centre. The world threatens to spin off your axis; G-Force pressure right in your center threatens to tear you apart.

Please… make it stop… 

Like a switch has been flipped, the spinning cyclone in your mind stops. The sound of your harsh breathing and the erratic pulse in your ears is the only thing you can hear. Someone kneels right in front of you, and you don’t have the strength to push him away, not when he’s this close.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, stretching his hand like he wants to pat your head, but retracts it at the last minute. “You passed.” 

The collar slips off your neck, and you hear it being tossed onto the table. “Come here,” he whispers and unbinds you. Caleb lifts you into his arms, though not even his warmth can comfort you. 

Through the fog whirling in your mind, you make a snap decision.

Your hand collides into his cheek, the loud slap ricocheting around the room. He grunts, taken aback, and you use the momentum to swing your legs, wrapping your thighs around his neck so he’s forced to let go of you. Using every iota of balance you can muster, you land on your feet, none too gracefully. His hand wraps around your arm and practically hiss, sinking your teeth into his flesh.

Caleb gasps, and whips his hand back, glaring down at you. 

“Hey! It’s me—”

But, you’re not listening. You’re ready to pounce when he grabs your wrist, drawing you closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest so you can hear the harsh rise and fall of his breathing.

“Pips, it’s me,” he tries earnestly again. “It’s me. I’m back.”

To your horror, you start to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

You sob and blubber like a child, growing weak in his arms as the hand in his grasp turns into a fist and you smack it weakly against his hard chest.

“How could you?” is the first thing you ask through your sobs. And, the next: “How’re you even alive?” 

Caleb looks away, like he might reveal too much if he stares into your eyes. “It’s complicated—”

“Bullshit,” your anger resounds in the room like the crack of a whip. You should’ve bit him harder. 

You think you see him flinch. You push away from his arms and he looks down at you, every crevice of his face dripping with desolation. There’s a glimmer of wetness in his eyes, and yet, you can’t trust it. 

You can’t trust him. 

“Pipsqueak,” he tries again, reminding you of the times when you were both younger, and he had to sweet-talk you out of a bad mood. “I know you must think some chip got put into my brain, or I’m no longer who I used to be. But, I’m still me,” he urges, and lifts your chin to meet his eyes. “I’m still Caleb. I never left.” 

You grit your teeth and with a strength neither of you expect you to have, you push him against the table, pressing yourself in between his legs. Caleb grunts, but doesn’t shove you aside. He looks up at you, with those same pitiful, defiant violet eyes that urges you to either kiss him senseless or claw his eyeballs out.

… Wait. 

Kiss him senseless? 

You shake your head, pushing those thoughts aside. As if he can’t control himself anymore, he runs his knuckles down the back of your thighs, the new (downright useless) mandated Hunters uniform showing off too much bare skin. But, you couldn’t care less about that right now. 

Right now, you have a score to settle with your oldest childhood friend.

“You’re still the same, huh?” Your hand presses to his chest, feeling the erratic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. Even through all the layers he wears, you can still feel the heat of his body seeping past your skin. “You’re still the same Caleb I knew—the same one who walked through that damn door—” you growl, curling your hand into a fist and hitting it right into his sternum, “—and blew up on me?!”

“Pipsqueak—”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, baring your teeth. Though the tears continue to fall, your mind is honed in. Focused.

The need to obliterate him, to make him feel a shred of the same pain he had put you through for months, rears its ugly head.

Like he can read your mind—and you honestly think he can—he caresses your face, running his thumb over your jaw. The look on his face is pure regret, mingled with something unfathomable. You scent it in the lingering heat of his breath on your parted lips, or how much closer his face has gotten to yours. 

Right here, he’s in the palm of your hands… And yet, why is he still so painfully out of reach? 

“I don’t trust you,” the words slip past your numb lips before you can take them back. You grip his face, steadying those violet eyes on your furious ones. “I need to test you… to put you through a trial.”

The look of indignation on his face is delicious, and it whets your appetite for vindication. 

“A trial?” He almost sounds insulted. “What have I done wrong?” 

Your other hand slowly reaches for the front of his chest, running the tip of your finger down the starch lapels of his jacket. “You were missing. For months,” you grit out the words. “I need to check if you’re still him.”

“Still… me?” 

You growl and tighten your grip on his chin.

“What is my favorite food?” 

Caleb huffs, as if you had just asked him what color the sky was. “Braised chicken wings,” he murmurs almost sarcastically. “Next.”

You glance at the bite mark on his hand. “What is my favorite way of getting you back?” 

He raises a brow. “Biting. I remember how when we were kids, you bit me so hard, the mark took 15 days to disappear.”

You swallow. He’s correct again. 

Reluctantly, you loosen your grip on his chin. The position you’re both in hits you—his arm around your waist, his free hand still stroking the back of your thigh. Your one hand tangled in his jacket and the other still on his chin.

Heat floods your cheeks, and you recall him saying that there were more than one pair of eyes watching in this room. But, a part of you—the one who’s been deprived of Caleb for far too long, who had to contend with days of loneliness and missing him, couldn’t care less.

“Pipsqueak,” he murmurs, and his hand moves from your leg to your hair, gently nudging you deeper into the circle of his arms. The smell of him floods your nostrils with nostalgia and a hint of pine, the old Caleb you grew up with solidifying further and further under your touch. 

“Caleb…” 

Faster than two atoms on the path to collision, his lips are on yours.

Caleb kisses you like you’re the only source of oxygen left in his world. Something crashes onto the floor, and the plate of apples rolls onto the carpet, an orchard of sin scattered in between your legs pressed together. The sweet, tart flavor of the fruit he had just eaten saturates your tastebuds, and you moan when he desperately tangles his tongue with yours. 

He lifts you into his arms bridal style, and carries you down a narrow hallway you had never noticed before, the flashing thunder illuminating the gaudy paintings hung on the wall. 

He takes you to what looks like a medical room, though no one is in there. Your lips press to his neck, kissing and sucking on his pulse point. He hisses and in a low tone, warns, “Keep that up and you might regret it, Pipsqueak.” 

Gently, like you’re precious cargo, he sets you down onto the bed, those violet eyes like a newfound nebula fixed onto you, filled with the brightest stars in the galaxy.

Caleb runs his hand up your thigh, and you flicker your gaze to his gun holster. 

In the split second when he’s distracted, you lunge right for it, grabbing the handle.

He yelps, taken aback, but is faster, snapping his hand around your wrists to impede your movements. The gun drops from your grasp like dead weight, along with your hopes of ever escaping. If looks could kill, you would  be dead meat from the intensity of his glare.

Caleb exhales, fixing his frigid gaze onto yours. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, and you shiver at the dark edge in his tone. “You will pay for that.”

Gravity surrounds you like a weighted blanket, except it pins you to the bed rather than offering any comfort. Your whimper is lost behind the gloved hand that muffles your cries, hissing into your ear to, “Stay still, goddamnit.”

Caleb is breathing hard, a drop of sweat rolling from his temple down his throat. You feel it dripping onto your neck, your wild eyes fix on him. 

When he’s sure you won't retaliate again, he stands up from the bed, bearing down on you. Picking up the gun from the floor, he trails it right to your temple. His Evol hasn’t muffled your speech, but you don’t want to say a word to him, preferring to glare. 

“I asked you a simple question—”

“And, you know I can’t answer that,” he retaliates, recognizing what you’re trying to do. His brow furrows. “There are things I can’t tell you, Pips. Things you don’t even understand—”

“Then, help me understand!” You’re yelling now, close to tears. “Help me understand why you left… why you left me…” your voice breaks on the last word, and a look of regret shadows his face.

“I never wanted to.” The gun slides from your temple right to your jaw, but you’re not afraid of it. Nothing in the world can keep you from knowing the truth; from uncovering every layer in Caleb’s new facade. 

(But, maybe, this dark side of him has always been there, and you were just too blind not to notice). 

He takes a shaky breath. “If I had the choice to do it over again, I would’ve never—ever—left you.” 

Sincerity bleeds past the shades of night falling outside the window. Silence envelopes the two of you, and the realization dawns when he exhales your name.

“Pipsqueak…” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

You’re not his Pipsqueak anymore, the same way he is inexplicably not your Caleb anymore.

He gets back down to his knees, right in front of you. The look on his face is nothing short of misery, heavy with a thousand implications he could never divulge. 

You’re desperate, hungry for more. To know more, to feel more. To embrace the darkness brewing in you like the undeniable heat that’s simmering between your two bodies. 

“Do you hate it?” He asks softly, in a voice frayed with a thousand emotions, and you sense he’s not referring to your old nickname. Do you hate me? 

The silent question hangs heavy in the air, and without a second thought, you turn your face and press your lips to the barrel of his gun.

You can point a weapon at me, but you will never shoot, your kisses on the cold metal speak where words fail you. The gun trembles in his grasp, and between your body pinned to the bed from his Evol and a military-grade weapon pointed at you, what you’re doing is completely ballsy. And, insane.

“I know you have secrets,” you murmur as the cold metal tip travels to the nape of your neck. Despite himself and his rigorous self-control, Caleb is still a man. 

Still flesh and bone. Love and grief. 

“But, we’re a team, remember? You and me. Me and you. We work together, Caleb. Not against each other.” 

Your blurry mind tries hard to focus on the task at hand—needing to throw him off guard—but you can’t deny how the heat in his hooded eyes is making you feel.

He inhales sharply at your words, though the rest of his expression remains unreadable. “I told you, what I know is top secret and even you’re not allowed to know it.”

Those violet eyes trail down your susceptible body spread wide open for him on the bed, and you notice a flicker of hunger behind his dark gaze. 

You’ve always loved Caleb’s attention: whether he’s complimenting you on scoring a goal, or commending your plane model assembly skills. 

Everything you did was, to a degree, for him to see you. To finally accept you wholeheartedly and without restraint.

You were his little tail; the Pipsqueak who followed him around like his shadow.

And even now, when he has a gun right at your throat, all you can think about is how much you want to please him. 

Tilting your head back, you moan when the barrel slides down the valley of your breasts. His breathing is growing heavier; the look in his lilac eyes is stormy and dark.

“You… like this?” 

He sounds hoarse. In disbelief.

You nod. “I…” you lick your lips. “I love it.” 

The cool metal grazes your jaw, and when it taps on your lips, you don’t hesitate to part them. Glancing into those molten, violet eyes, you suck on the hollow tip, aware of his finger on the trigger and the look of undefiled lust on his face. 

“God,” he mumbles, hungrily eyeing how deep the barrel is down your throat. “You’re such a good, good little girl…”

He prises the gun from between your teeth, and the strands of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the spit-soaked metal shimmers in the low light. 

Caleb tosses the gun onto the table, growling as he crawls on top of you. 

The effect of his Evol fades, allowing you to move your feet, but his hands on your knees make sure you can’t pull off anything funny.

“You’re gonna lay back, and you’re going to be good,” he lifts your leg and kisses over your knee. It would be so easy to drive the hard cartilage right into his nose… but, you don’t want his hands to leave your skin. You want to see what he will do next. 

The off-duty Hunter uniform you’re wearing rides up your thighs, exposing the plush fat of your thighs. His gloves rasping on your skin drives a shiver up your spine. 

It’s like he refuses to engage in skin-to-skin, whether as punishment or a caution. 

You whine softly when his bigger body bears down on yours.

“Caleb…” 

He grasps your chin, none too gentle as he pulls you closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, pushing himself closer—the heat of his body melting with yours. “Look at what you do to me.” 

It’s hard to even breathe when he’s close enough to devour your face. 

His breath grazes your cheek, and you close your eyes. Your oldest childhood friend savors the proximity, taking in a whiff of your clean perfume. 

Before your mind can play catchup, your body falls right into the orbit of his desire; lips on his, breaths mingling as one. 

“Fuck,” Caleb breathes, a moan pulled from the depths of his chest, tortured and strangled. “You taste so—nhng—” 

He gasps when your arms come to loop around his shoulders, dragging him almost between your legs. He steadies himself, gloved palms on the bed. You run your hands over the starch grooves of his jacket, finding the first button. 

Caleb lets your touch wander aimlessly, his breath caught in the back of his throat.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, those anguished violet eyes almost gouging into yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. “Are you sure you want this?”

Are you sure you want me? 

As a silent answer, you lean forward, catching his lower lip in between your teeth. 

“Ngnhmhm,” he moans, gasping when you bite down hard. 

He tastes blood and your desperation, helping you unbutton his coat. The heavy chain slaps against your eager cheek in his rush to slide it off his arms. “Shit—sorry.” Cool fingers brush the afflicted cheek. “You alright, sweetness?” 

You nod, huffing and moving your hands to his other lighter jacket, unbuttoning it. He chuckles at your eagerness and helps you with the brass buttons. As the layer disappears, you’re confronted with another shirt.

“How many clothes are you wearing?!” Your cry brings a mischievous grin tugging on the corners of his lips. 

“Lots,” he murmurs and takes over with a nimble skill only a man of his caliber can have. The grey shirt melts off his broad shoulders, discarded onto the floor, and finally—fucking finally—he removes the black turtleneck, revealing smooth acres of warmed, tan skin right under your touch. 

You exhale shakily, running your fingers down his distinct pectorals, tugging on the dog tag around his neck. Your eyes land on the familiar apple charm.

“How—?” 

He thumbs the similar charm hanging from around your neck. For the first time this evening, he voluntarily gives up some information. 

“I—uh—had someone copy my old necklace.”

The look of disbelief on your face is enough to deter his next words. 

“You decoyed the necklace I gifted you?” 

Caleb winces. “C’mon, Pip—I-I mean, love…” he sighs and presses his palm to the back of your head, drawing you closer to peck your pouty lips. “It helped me make sure you were safe. Plus,” he adds, a touch of humor in his tone. “You did tell me you would kick my ass if I ever took it off.” 

You struggle to understand the layers behind his words, fighting to form a reply when his lips travel to the juncture of your neck, softly kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh. 

Focused on retrieving the truth, you fight hard against his best efforts at derailing you. “You—mhm—were tracking me? All this time?” 

Caleb doesn’t pause his sensual assault, groaning softly. “Won’t call it tracking per say…” 

You want to get mad. Truly, you do. But, the feeling of his teeth grazing your pulse point melts any coherent thoughts left in your brain.

The confusion you felt before gives way to something deeper. Unrestrained. He kisses you again, and you absorb the feeling of warm skin under your palms, feeling the heat of his body thrumming under your touch. His muscles expand and contract with every shaky breath, his chest pressed so intimately to yours.

You squirm, and he hisses, restraining your hips to the bed.

“Stop that,” he hisses. 

Confusion overtakes you, and  you want to ask what’s wrong when he winces and shifts his hips further from yours, instinctively setting a physical boundary you want gone immediately.

“Are you scared?” It’s your turn to goad him. If he thinks you’re going to be nothing but docile and wanting, he’s been away for far too long. 

His lips twitch. “Of you? Nah. But, of what I can do?” His voice drops an octave, and he leans in, one gloved hand going to your chin, holding it in place. “If anyone should be scared, it’s you.” 

Caleb tests the waters of this new dynamic unfolding between you two, dipping his fingers past the gap of your lips. The breach should make you pull away, take a step back to reassess the situation.

But, you’re as much under his spell as you have bewitched him. 

The taste of earthy hardness fills your mouth, and you suck on his thumb obediently. 

Caleb looks down at you, the heat in his eyes almost touching the boiling point. A few more moments of your teasing, and he would be close to bursting and taking you right on this bed. 

Never one to be satisfied with what he is allowed to take, Caleb pushes his luck further, sinking his thumb deeper down the soft gullet of your throat; compressing your gurgled words down to the bottom of your mouth in his journey to devour everything you can give him. 

“Oh, fuck.” He groans when you take another finger into your mouth like you were meant for him. “That’s a good girl… my good little girl…” 

You moan around his digits stuffed down your throat, peeling your watery eyes to his smirking expression.

“Cat got your tongue, Pipsqueak?” He murmurs, and stretches your jaw with a third finger. You’re so full of the taste of him, you start to choke. “You look so pretty like this—not a thought in your brain, just relying on me to make you full… to make you whole.” 

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to protest, but deep down, it’s true.

The grief that clashes with his year-long absence, this “new” side to him you are starting to unravel… the old Calen, the one you loved and looked up to, is starting to metamorphosize right before your eyes.

“Cwaleb—” you whimper past his fingers. 

He’s barely laid a hand on you and you’re already folding. 

Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he discreetly wipes off your spit on the bed sheets, fixing you with an arched brow. 

As if asking: Well… your move, Pipsqueak. 

Your hands fly to the buckle of his military pants, the sound of his zipper dragging down punctuating the air like a crass remark. 

Caleb stiffens when he feels your cool finger dipping past the waistband and he shudders, mind going hazy at a touch he had only dreamed off but never thought would come true. When you reveal him to the cool air, he’s half-flaccid, already at a six inch mast and the prettiest shade of pink you have ever seen with an undertone of mauve.

He’s part of the thicker team, though length-wise, it would make any woman scream and cream. Heavy balls. A slight curve. Growing up pumped full of hormones, you had secretly wondered how your oldest childhood friend’s cock would look like, but you never once anticipated seeing it in real time.

“Holy…” you trail off, and he grins.

“Like what you see?” 

You’re spread out for him on the threadbare sheets like a vision from a forbidden oasis. As much as he wants to bury himself in you, Caleb needs to make sure you’re ready first. He licks his lips, whets his appetite, and fills up your empty mouth with his tongue. 

“Mhm…” you groan into the depths of his mouth. “Caleb…” You swallow, and deciding to throw him off, you murmur a word he thought would never, ever come out from your mouth: 

“Sir,” you whimper. “ Kiss me harder…” 

Sparks go off in his mind. He feels like the force of the explosion has finally caught up with him a year later and his breath is knocked out from his lungs. 

“What did you say?” 

His deep violet eyes devour the look of wanton desire on your face, mind drawing a blank.

Did you just…? 

Did he hear it right? 

“Again,” he almost stutters, desperately needing to hear that word from your lips. “Say that word again.”

The restraint in your mind is at best a flimsy net letting your inhibitions fly freely. “Sir,” the word drips from your lips like the sultriest confession; the look on his face like that of a holy man scandalized. Except Caleb wasn’t holy—he was hardly a saint. He was the scum of the earth trying to lay his corrupted hands on a being far too precious for him. 

Immolating from his own self-hatred, it’s hard for him to fathom that you want this—that you want him. 

“Please,” your whisper cuts through the tension of the self-inflicted torment settling onto pensive demeanor. “Please… make love to me, Sir.”

All his years of restraint—of immaculate self-control—snaps like the last leaf off an autumn branch. He rains dizzying kisses down onto the jut of your collarbone, summer rain sweeter than sin on your tongue.

Caleb removes his pants, kicking the heavy material down to the floor as he works his boots off frantically with the toes of each alternating foot. 

The feel of his body on yours, almost smothering you to the mattress, drives you wild with a heat stoking right in the heart of your core.

“Sir,” you murmur, almost dizzy with lust. 

He pops open the buttons of your dress, slipping it down your shoulders. The swathes of your bare skin presented for him makes him feel like he’s barely lucid, lost in a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. With one hand, he expertly unhooks your bra and slides it down your body, tossing it onto the floor where it joins his pants.

Caleb is barely restrained when he pushes you back onto the bed, his lips finding refuge in the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He nips, licks and sucks like his life depends on marking you; the sight of his marks on your skin only serves to make his feral need rise higher and higher. 

He takes refuge right at your chest, nibbling and nipping the plush fat of your breasts till you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your nipples wet with his spit and aching for more of his touch. 

The dark haired man can barely stop himself from what he does next—sliding your dress further down your body till the rise of your lace panties appears in his sights like the sun breaking over the horizon.

He feels the warmth of you on his face, right in his cheeks as your thighs tighten around his head.

“Oh, love,” he groans, like a man starving. “C’mere, Princess—”

He pulls you closer till your pelvis bumps his chin and you squeak, feeling his hot breath graze your bare skin. 

“Caleb—”

Your protests die an immature death when he buries his tongue right into your tight cunt. He moans at your taste, the lightning playing with shadows all over your body, illuminating the pulsing beats of darkness hiding behind those violet eyes. His pupils almost swallow those lilac orbs whole, their darkened gaze latched right onto you. 

“God,” he mumbles like a man tasting manna for the first time. “... s’sweet… this pussy is so sweet…”

The charming, charismatic and kind Caleb from before would’ve never dared utter such words in front of you. But, his other twin in bed, the one who wears his face complete with a devilish smirk, rolls his tongue over your syrupy folds, moaning at your flavor.

You taste like candied apples, and Caleb thinks he could eat you up whole. 

He squeezes more moans past your sweet lips when he draws all your folds into his mouth, spitting it back out only to do it again and again and again. 

“You’re so wet,” he slurs, those pretty purple eyes already pussy-drunk. “So fucking wet f’me.” 

Your legs spread, wrapping around his shoulders, the taste of your cunt almost coating the back of his throat—Caleb couldn’t be more in love with you.

“Mhm,” he moans, a sight in between your legs, chin slick with your juices, eyes half-closed in pure ecstasy. 

“You’re so full for me… dripping down everywhere,” he murmurs, placing a quick kiss onto your twitchy clit. “I could drink you for days.” 

Your cries and moans only fuel him to be meaner. Now that he has you in the palm of his hand, he’s not planning to let go of you anytime. 

It’s filthy, animalistic, and utterly raw. The emotions he evokes in you quakes through your soul, seeping out of your core only to be consumed by him, your lust growing his lust, his moans inciting your yearning. 

Caleb continues his gentle assault on your clit with his tongue, grinning against your cunt. 

“Louder… let them hear you.” He slips one leather-clad finger inside your pussy, pressing down on the spongy, soft spot. Those pretty lips wrap around your clit, giving it a gentle suck and you fold. 

You keen, tangling your fingers in his hair. It’s one thing to be eaten out this thoroughly, but another to be subjected to such pleasurable torture by a man who has hungered for you for years.

“Good girl,” the bridge of his nose almost rubs your clit raw when he buries his tongue even deeper inside you. “Louder,” he moans past flesh and more pussy juice gushing onto his chin. “Make it messy, baby.” 

Caleb… Caleb… your breaths come out in huge gasps, your back arching off the bed. 

He makes unravelling you look so easy, and you’d be absolutely pissed off if he wasn’t edging you towards the biggest orgasm of your life. 

While you’re in the throes of your pleasure, you feel his gloved hand wrap around your throat, thumb pushing past your flush lips.

“Mhm—” you moan at the flavor of him saturating your tongue. “Oh… Caleb—”

“Yeah,” he growls, chest rumbling. “Say my name, baby. Say it. Scream it.”

“Caleb,” your moans double in volume, the pleasure about to burst from your seams. “Oh, Caleb—!” 

Heat, wetness, a deep, stirring pleasure threatening to consume you, and then—

Nothing.

Caleb pulls away, squeezing your thighs. He rips off the gloves, and finally—finally—you feel his skin on yours.

The rasp of his warmth across your thighs drives goosebumps down your arms. “Shit,” you whimper when he pushes your thighs further apart to settle in between them. His body smothers yours, encompassing you in the pure mass that is his weight bearing fully down onto your exposed body.

Bastard. He leaves you hanging, reeling from a ruined orgasm, as you glare at him, your anger and indignation sputtering and dying on your tongue.

“Caleb! You—you—”

He grins, dark and sweaty bangs falling all over face as he drags you closer by the hips. 

“Open wide, pretty,” Caleb coaxes, thumbing the head of his pretty cock, smearing precum all over his digit. 

Fuck—ah… you groan sinfully. The sight of him pleasuring himself is seared in your brain. You bite your lower lip, shifting your hips. Need drips from your gasping breaths and your head is spinning.

Easy, he murmurs. I gotcha.

Caleb lifts your hips in his large hands, finding the perfect angle before slipping the sticky head between your folds. Your gasp grazes his ears in a warm puff, a telltale sign of your unexpected surprise at how good this feels.

It reminds you of those times when he would tease you as kids—always holding something out of reach and never giving in unless you begged nicely.

And, you sense it’s what he’s doing right now. Mercilessly teasing, testing your patience. Waiting for you to beg.

Caleb grasps the base of his hefty cock and runs it over the mess of your creases, soaked with your excitement for him. He teasingly pushes the plump head past the slutty ring of muscle gaping open for him, and heaves in a deep groan, like that of a beast about to breed his mate. Your eyes are crossed with pleasure, and you’re whimpering sweetly, no thoughts forming in your brain besides more, more, more.

You ache for him, but all you can do is take his teasing. “Please,” you huff, peeling your docile, little lamb eyes onto him, wishing he would relent and just fuck you.

The sheets twist in your fist and your other hand is tangled in his sweat-soaked hair.

Caleb uses one hand to brush his damp bangs off his face, and he grins, intent on making you pliable to his every whim. He presses a kiss to your jugular, biting down on it, relishing in your jolt of pleasure.

You’re so sensitive, even his pelvis grinding down on your clit feels good and you shift your hips higher, desperate for more friction—for more of him.

“Sir,” you sputter, woozy. “Please… please…” 

Caleb hums, lifts your thighs over his broad, muscular shoulders. The slight tilt spreads you out for him, a wildflower blooming under his touch. You’ve captivated him with your scent, your skin, your sweet sounds…

But, little does he know, you’re equally enraptured; caught in his trap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs hoarsely. “Pretty when you beg. Pretty when you look at me like you can’t wait a second longer…”

His wet lips swell around your pulse point again, flowering heated kisses onto your sensitive skin.

“Nghh—Caleb,” you whimper and he chuckles—that bastard.

“You ready, sweets?” He teases you, shooting you a smug, stupid smile much to your consternation. 

You want to roll your eyes and be crass, asking him to just give up and put it in, but your words get stuck right in your throat when you realize you're already on the verge of losing it altogether.

You take one good look at him, and wet your lips, yielding with a nod. 

“Yes, Sir.”

Your obedience is like a hit of ecstasy for him, firing up his veins, and he moans, shifting closer to you. The bulbous tip jostles deep inside you as another inch is added and you writhe, eyes squeezed close in delirium. “Mhnmph!” 

Your moans shoot through his veins like licks of a strong, disorientating drug and Caleb groans. His hefty body is already shaking from the strain, and he doesn’t know how long he can last. His thighs shudder, and he has to bite on his lower lip to keep from moaning like a goddamn loser when he finally sinks his dick all the way into the love of his life. 

“Mhm—ah!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses. 

He gives you a split second to get used to the sensation, nothing more, nothing less. Obviously, he’s waited for you for his entire life. Etiquette and consideration can come later—all he wants to do right now is fuck the ever loving shit out of you. Caleb sets a pace, one that has you twitching, and he seethes at your lack of resistance.

“You’re—hnng, already so eager,” he snarls. “Been dreaming about this? About my cock?”

The sight of your decoyed necklace slapping against your skin from every thrust drives him dizzy with lust. His name on the dog tag, the apple charm looking so innocent and snug right in the valley of your luscious tits. It doesn’t take much to please a man like him and Caleb is as happy as a dog who got the best bone. 

He gnaws on your shoulder, teeth making indents on your precious skin.

Your thighs tighten around his shoulders, body almost folded in half like a pancake.

Caleb… Caleb… you whisper-gasp, the darkness of the room and the subsiding storm outside the windows lending to the dark yet intense atmosphere.

He licks along your bottom lip, sucking on your tongue. You taste so good, Princess…

Your whimpers brush his chin and his hair tickles your sternum as he ducks his head lower, bringing your stiff peaks into his mouth. He nurses and suckles on you, a fiendish look in his eyes.

“Mhmph—you taste like sin,” he groans deeply, the sound travelling all the way down to your core. The forbidden fruit, right here in his arms and like a selfish man, he wants more.

Without warning, gravity disengages around your body and you’re pinned to the ceiling in the blink of an eye. 

It feels surreal to look over his shoulder, at the bed hovering above your head, the medicine cabinet and lamp all peering up at you like a twisted version of wonderland. 

“Caleb—!” 

He silences your protests with a harsh kiss, licking and sucking on your lower lip till you whimper and quiver. Deftly, he guides your hips away from him and lets gravity do the rest. You sink down—full and to the hilt. He’s so deep in you, you swear you can taste him all the way in the back of your throat. 

Caleb fucks you this way—mean, demanding—using gravity and his Evol to his advantage. 

You writhe and twist in his grasp, head thrown back. The ceiling wall is cold against your back, though he’s warm enough to the touch to make your head spin.

Bodies press intricately, you can’t tell where he begins and where you end. Like two snakes interlocking, you feel Caleb everywhere. His breath on your neck, his hands roaming down your body possessively, the feel of his thick girth hitting every spot just right.

Drool drips down your chin, and you feel him chuckle; the rough rasp of his tongue lapping it up.

Messy girl, he drawls, smacking his lips. A smug grin tugs on his mouth, giving his boyishly handsome face a devilish touch. 

Give me more, he urges. More. Make it messy, Princess.

He sucks on your pulse point, your neck the perfect canvas for his marks. Nuzzling you close, you feel the tenderness behind his searing need.

His cock molds into you like a perfect fit. The sound of his hefty balls slapping wetly against your skin fills the room with a salacious symphony. 

Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. You can’t control the stream of moans escaping your puffy lips. He kisses you hard again, deepening it and letting his tongue tangle with yours in a passionate dance. Your heart swells with adoration for him; his flavor heavy on your tongue, sousing through your senses like a creeping heat reaching towards its completion. 

His touch kindles up more desire as if you’re dry straw waiting to catch fire, and oh—does he let you burn. 

Strings of your pussy juice drip past his balls, streaking his thighs like filthy snail trails. The shine of your own arousal dribbles past the pert curve of his fit ass, and ribbons into droplets falling from the ceiling like it’s goopy rain. 

Caleb doesn’t care about the mess you’re making. All he wants is to see you unravel.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes crossed—he leans in to kiss you hard, needing to taste your desperation firsthand.

Your hot moans give everything up to him, your body quaking like a tempest ready to unleash hell onto his self-control. 

He grunts when you fist his hair, finding your rhythm as you fuck him back, meeting him in the middle. The sway of your hips tells him all he needs to know—his little mei mei isn’t as innocent as he thinks she is.

“—taught you how to fuck like that?” He grunts, lapping at a bead of sweat about to freefall from your chin. 

“Huh?” You peel your watery eyes on his, his sticky kiss gracing your cheek.

“Said—who taught my sweet, innocent, little Pipsqueak to fuck like this?” 

He punctuates his emphasis with two harsh thrusts, his length jabbing your cervix. 

You grunt, eyes rolling back into your head. “N-no one—fuck,” you whine when he slips one big hand between your bodies, rolling his thumb over your lubricious clit.

“A-ah!” your cries rebound across the room as he plays with your fleshy pearl, thumbing circles onto it vigorously, hoping to glean your confession. “Ngh—Caleb!” 

Your thighs begin to shake, and his grin turns wolfish. “Won’t let you come ‘less you tell me the truth, Pipsqueak. M’waiting.”

He stamps a possessively hard kiss onto the nape of your neck, like he’s trying to drive the mark of his mouth past your skin. 

“I’m telling the truth,” you whimper. “Never had no one—no one but you.”

A deep, guttural groan brushes the soft shell of your ear.

“Swear?” he demands. 

“Uh-huh,” you hiccup, all dulcet and demure with the position he has you in. Your lachrymose eyes are fixated on him and only him—Caleb thinks his body might burst from all the blood swelling in his cock and heart.

He huns, and runs his tongue down your clavicle. “Good girl… good little Pips.”

The nickname combined with his derogatory tone inadvertently makes you clench around him tighter, and he hisses. 

“You’ll be the death of me, y’know?” His eyes darken and he drives his hips harder as if trying to make a point. “Gonna make sure you never leave my side—we’ll always be together. Forever.” 

You whine and dig your nails into his biceps. 

“Caleb—” you gasp, almost falling out of his grasp and face down onto a bed 10 feet below you. But, he tightens his grip, and you know he would never let you go. 

He shuffles you deeper into the alcove of his body, and you tighten your hold around his neck. “You—mhm—are insane.”

“Yeah?” He grins. “Only for you, Pips.”

Tingles running down your spine, and you feel hot and cold at the same time. He fixes his sights on your glassy gaze, enjoying how wrecked you look under him. 

(Well, technically, above him with the power of his Evol, but eh, semantics). 

The storm outside is no match for the one raging inside of you, and you cling onto him like a second skin, drunk off the pleasure he’s inducing in you. Kissing his jaw, nipping his lower lip. Caleb grunts when you press your chest to him, the feeling of your pert nipples rubbing against his toned pecs making him feel like this is all a dream—one he doesn’t want to wake up from.

Too soon, his vision to see you come undone flashes as you toss your head back and moan his name.

“Caleb…”

Your whimper is a signal of your impending release, and he grits his teeth, driving his hips further into you, planting his knees on the water-stained ceiling and going ham on your pliant body. 

He feels you shuddering around him, dipping his head to feast on the sweat slicking your tits.

He glances up at you, catching your eye the second your release tears through you, his smirk making your heart skip a few beats.

Caleb feels the heat stirring in his own belly. You’re down for the count, holding onto him like a washed up doll whose lax mouth occasionally lets out a few moans and whimpers.

So pliant… so malleable… so easily molded to his whims…

Breaking you clean, he wants to dominate every inch of your body—claim your thoughts as his so that all you think, feel and want is him.

“Ngh,” he groans, burying his face into the crook of his neck as he finally breaks and fat loads of hot cum fill you up.

Caleb holds you closer—securely—as he reels his Evol in, and slowly floats down onto the bed with you in his arms.

With the combination of the serum, your release and this newfound dynamic between you and Caleb, you’re out cold in seconds.

He feels your body going limp, giving way to sleep and presses his nose into your hair. For a few moments, he refuses to let you go, arms protectively wrapped around you. 

Then, the peace is shattered by a polite knock on the door. 

“... Colonel… we need to evaluate her…”

Shit. He licks his lips and groans softly. You’re so warm, so comfortable in his arms. He can’t let you out his grasp. 

But, duty calls and the Farspace Fleet is a minefield of legality. He can’t steal away and run off with their test subject.

Not yet, at least. 

As much as he wants to stay like this with you forever, Caleb steels his heart and pulls out of your warm, slurry depths. He dresses you first, and then gets himself presentable. 

First Commander Brigette of the medical aide steps in at his signal. Her silver hair is tightened into a bun and mirrors the tight look of dismay on her face. 

“Sir, it is imperative—”

“Don’t. Not now,” he mutters tersely and straightens his tie. “Just check if her vitals are alright. And, don’t you dare mention this to anyone else, you hear me? If you do, things’ll get messy for me—the next round of body bags hasn’t been shipped in yet.” 

She nods, though she looks like she wants to argue. 

The rest of the fleet didn’t yet know of his true relationship with you—to them, you’re just a pretty face their Colonel took a fancy to. And, he wants to keep it that way for as long as he can while he formulates the best plan to get you to safety. 

“The sedative we gave her was meant to lower her inhibitions enough to confess,” Brigitte murmurs. “I didn’t think—”

“If she doesn’t wake up, I’m throwing you and your team right into the Deepspace tunnel,” he threatens. 

The award-winning scientist flinches, and lowers her gaze. “Colonel Xia, we will recover the antidote for her quickly.”

Caleb exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders lessening slightly. That’s what he likes to hear. 

Brigette soon finishes her rounds of physical examinations on you. She bows and exits the medical room, leaving him alone with you again. 

Caleb steps forward and gently runs his gloved fingers through your hair. In the silence of the fleet, where mechanical whirs mingle with his steady breathing, he makes you a promise that he will do everything in his power to fulfill.

“I swear I’m getting you out of here in one piece, Pipsqueak.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Swear it on my life.”

He told you before that you would always see him when he came home and this time, he intends to keep his promise till the very end.

a/n: i need this man biblically and carnally,,,, feedbacks and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[kitasuno]

with you, i'm first | miya osamu x reader

in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.

wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff

Miya Osamu is used to coming second. 

It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun. 

Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight. 

Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.

He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.

Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.

They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says, 

‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much? 

And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother. 

Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him. 

But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him. 

Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.

His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him. 

He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts. 

“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?” 

His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule. 

He meets you for the first time in February. 

You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession. 

You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them. 

You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r. 

He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later. 

He sees you a lot the year after. 

You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side. 

With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch. 

Osamu means To Rule.

The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother. 

He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation. 

Osamu kisses you for the first time that night. 

It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. 

Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his. 

But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful. 

“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”

He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him. 

“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi. 

“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.” 

It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri. 

He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.

[multidimensionimagines]

Alright, first part is officially finished! A request sent to me by a wonderful user that will be tagged. In the meantime, here is part 1 of

Sweater Weather (part 1)

part 2

Summary: you borrow Ford’s sweater when it gets cold

content warnings: fluff, smut, reader is fem/afab and uses she/her pronouns, minors do not interact!

Gravity Falls wasn’t a sunny paradise. Despite what the brochures and fake marketing wanted you to believe. Sure the summers there were nice. After all, living in Oregon meant getting a perfect balance of each of the seasons as they came. So, that meant hot, sunny summers and cold, bitter winters.

You did not take this into account when you first moved to Gravity Falls two years ago. Sure, you had some sweaters and pants good enough for the colder months, and you would think that living in the same place for two years would warrant you enough time to go shopping to acquire a proper wardrobe. But you, special as you were, had an extraordinary knack for forgetting things- giving your needs the old ‘eh, I’ll do it tomorrow’ and the next thing you know, winter had passed with you surviving on the tattered blankets and fireplace in your home.

Now was the end of fall, the day after Halloween- not to be confused with the iconic Gravity Falls tradition of Summerween- and while it had been chillier out it was now getting dangerously into nipping cold territory. And your boyfriend, as practical as he was, has not stopped having to remind you.

“Dear, don’t you think you’ll be cold going out in.. that?”

You paused, looking over your shoulder at him. He quickly stiffened.

“N-not that, I’m trying to tell you what to wear. I-I would never-! You’re free to dress how you wish I’m just..” he awkwardly cleared his throat. “worried.”

You chuckled, pulling on your lightweight cardigan over your top. “I know you wouldn’t. I’ll go shopping tomorrow, okay?”

You reassured him softly, walking up to give him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled shyly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’ve been saying that everyday since October 5th.”

You rolled your eyes and grinned, shoving your hands in your pockets. “Psh, oh come on, there’s no way I’ve been saying it every day-“

Ford reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a little booklet, one of those pocket colanders and flipped to the page with the current month, or well, month that just passed yesterday on it.

“Actually you have, I’ve been keeping track to see when you would actually follow through on your word.”

He explained somewhat smugly before tucking it back into his pocket, revealing your annoyed but.. slightly impressed face. Of course, only the Stanford Pines would keep track of something like that.

You gave him a look but he wouldn’t put away that stupid (cute) grin on his face and brushed past him towards the front door of the Mystery Shack. You and Soos were all going out to get some food shopping done since the kitchen was ransacked by vengeful gnomes yesterday when Stan refused to give any of them candy.

“Bein’ freakishly short and wearing dumb hats all year round doesn’t make you eligible now scram!”

Soos came out from the staff room having finished putting away the rest of the cheap Halloween decorations that were more than halfway from falling apart, but of course, your boss refused to buy any new ones till they were ‘as old as he and his brother’ which you found humorous.

Dusting his hands off each other with a proud smile, Soos closed the door behind him and sighed. “Huh, there, that ought to do it! Oh hey other Mr Pines!” He beamed and waved at Ford, seeming surprised but pleased to see him out in the open. Ford awkwardly shuffled his feet and returned his wave with a small smile.

“Ah.. Greetings, Soos. And, please, you can call me Ford, it’s a lot less formal don’t you think?”

“Oh no way dude. I respect you and Mr Pines wayyyy too much to do that.” Soos stated in a somewhat more serious tone, crossing a hand in front of him.

Ford chuckled, both amused and flattered that he thought that highly of him and his brother. “Very well then.” He shrugged, watching as Soos joined you, who had their hand on the knob as you waited semi-paitently at the front door.

“You ready to rock and roll dude?” He asked, twirling his keys around his finger.

You nodded. “Uh huh!” You turned your head back to Ford “see ya in a bit, sweetie!”

Ford smiled and returned your wave as you closed the door behind you and Soos. Even though you and Ford had been together for a good few months now, he still got a bit giddy at the feeling of you calling him sweet pet names like that. He wasn’t all that used to having someone consistently dote on him in that way, plus, you just made him weak in the knees. No matter what you did. He found you absolutely irresistible. He sighed, shaking off his wandering thoughts and opened the vending machine door, as he had important business to attend to down in his lab today. And he didn’t want any distractions whatsoever.

A little while after, Ford was tinkering away in his lab, experimenting with a new device he had been drafting blueprints for, and keeping notes on what seemed to work.

“Hm… fascinating..” he hummed to himself, a pleased smirk spread across his face as he ran another successful test. He was pulled quickly from his thoughts when there was a knock at the door, but didn’t cease writing.

“Yes, come in!” He called, eyes not tearing away from the his journal pages.

From the other side of the door, you smiled of relief. Happy to hear your boyfriend’s voice after a long day, even though it was mostly shopping, it wasn’t like it was any fun shopping. You gently and carefully opened the door to his workshop, always making sure to be cautious in your step when doing so since you never could really predict what kind of strange anomaly or new device that would be coming your way. Thankfully today however, it was just a few pieces of forest crystals that sat at his desk beside his furiously writing hand. You cleared your throat and approached behind him, standing with your hands clasped in front of your lap.

Ford hummed curiously, looking back over his shoulder and instantly brightening when he saw it was you. “Ah! Greetings, my dear! How was your excursion with Jésus?”

You giggled. “It’s just Soos. And it was great! We got everything on our list and then some… I also got you something~” you rocked back on your heels as a playful tone rang in your voice to which he perked up. Ford turned his body now towards you, resting one hand on his knee and tilting his head to one side inquiringly.

“Really?”

You nodded, reaching into your pocket to reveal a small white cloth bag which had a label in black cursive on them that read ‘Old Timey Style Jelly Beans’.

Ford chuckled and took the bag from you, prying it open with his two index fingers and peering inside. “Thank you, my dear. Although, you really didn’t have to get me anything.” He said, glancing back up at you through his glasses.

You shook your head. “I always have to get you something! I like doing it, it’s nice to see your face when I come home with something for you! Besides, you hardly ever leave here as it is, I might as well do all your shopping at this point.” You insisted, resting a hand on Ford’s shoulder to steady yourself as you took a seat on his lap, taking advantage of the openness of his current leg position. He grew shy, smiling and looking away from you with a soft blush in his cheeks.

“Ah… yes, well.. um..” he cleared his throat “thank you.” He snuck a hand around your waist to keep you upright on him, bringing his head back up to face you so that you could properly see him. You peered over his shoulder to look at his desk, eyeing the new paragraphs of cursive that filled journal number four.

“What’cha working on?” You chirped. Ford beamed.

“Ah! I’m glad you asked!” He swiveled around in his chair, keeping hold of you in his lap and setting the jellybeans aside. “I’m testing a new invention of mine that I’ve had in the works for a while. I just didn’t have the pieces to do it until now…”

as he rambled on, explaining his newest discovery, you couldn’t help but accidentally tune out his words, sure you were listening, you could hear him talking, but your processing gears were occupied by the gleam in his eyes and the added crinkles that formed around them when he smiled in the excitement of explaining something to you. You let out an internal, dreamy sigh as you focused on the way his one hand was gesturing to all the different things on his desk and how the other gripped your waist so comfortingly. His rough, gorgeous hands…

“Dear, are you alright?”

Your breath hitched, you blinked and looked at him as a slow blush began to creep onto your face. “O-oh! Yeah um.. sorry you just… look really cute when you’re explaining your.. science-y.. stuff..” you admitted sheepishly, feeling kinda bad that you didn’t catch most of what he said.

Ford felt a little taken aback by the sudden onset of adoration, not that he minded it one bit. He just wasn’t used to it, a few months of being with someone so intimately wasn’t nearly enough time to get used to 60 ish years of barely experiencing it at all. He chuckled slightly, bringing his other hand to wrap in front of your torso, now encircling you in a cocoon of his arms.

“I-it’s quite alright, I wouldn’t have expected you to understand even if you were listening.”

He said with the utmost affection and sincerity. The words alone coming out of his mouth didn’t always sound too flattering, but they were hardly ever out of malice, especially not when it came to you. You had been learning to both deal with, and let him know when to not say anything. But right now you giggled and brushed it off, knowing exactly what he meant.

You two had a brief moment of looking into each others eyes, taking in each others soft gaze on the other. Ford had such deep, beautiful brown eyes that reminded you of the very forests that he explored so much. And you, oh, Ford could fill more than 10 journals dedicated to the sheer remarkable beauty of yours. He still couldn’t believe that in all the dimensions, all the universes, all the galaxies and all the stars in the sky that you chose to be his. And he was forever grateful for it. You both seemed to have the same idea as you leaned in closer, inching forward to gradually meet each others lips. Ford hummed and closed his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders he didn’t even know he was holding dropped. He gripped your waist tighter and subconsciously pulled you in closer to him and you brought your hands up to his face, cupping and caressing each cheek and running your fingers along his faint stubble. Ford was still a bit of an awkward and clumsy kisser, but you were more than happy to give him as many practice opportunities as he needed. You felt a shiver run up your spine as his thumbs began to rub into the divets of your flesh, as well as the cool air of the lab hitting your skin through your thin cardigan.

“Mmm… dear..?” Ford mumbled against your lips, gently pulling you away. Your face was revealed to him in a slight pout, which he thought was adorable. But this was no time for him to swoon, he had a pressing question he almost forgot to ask you. “Did you remember to pick up something suitable for the cold?”

Your eyes widened. Oh, shoot. That’s what you forgot.

“Uhhhh…” you squinted, looking to the side to avoid his now disappointed stare. Ford grumbled. “Okay, I forgot! Ugh..” you groaned, throwing your head back.

Ford sighed and pulled your sweater sleeve up, revealing the goosebumps that littered your arm. “Darling, look at you, you’re freezing. You should get into something warmer.” He pressed, now sounding more like a worried mother than anything. You got up off his lap. “Yeah, I didn’t wanna say anything because I was hoping you wouldn’t notice but, your lab is fucking freezing.” You shivered, bringing your hands up to your forearms in a pathetic attempt to shield them. Ford chuckled and shook his head, waving you off.

“Go on, take your time, I’ll be here all evening.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

With You, Even When I'm Not

Requested Here by the amazing @newobsessionweekly!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When one of Tim Bradford's enemies is released from prison, he sets out to hurt Tim by hurting you. You trust that Tim will save you, but time is not on your side.

Warnings: angst, car accident, torture (injuries to r), based on 2x11 but this isn't a rewrite (for once lol), crying, fluff and comfort

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

A/N: I didn't include a scene with Tim threatening someone like he does in 2x11 and I kinda regret it because it was hot, but I also really like how this turned out...

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead.”

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Less than eight hours ago, you sat beside Tim in roll call. You force yourself to remember that rather than consider what Ferguson plans to do to you.

- 8 Hours Ago - 

Your day starts like any other: you wake up, get ready, go to the station, and take your seat beside Tim for roll call. The sun is bright, the sky clear, and Los Angeles is event-free for once. So, it has the makings for a good day.

“What is up with you?” Tim asks quietly.

“What do you mean?” you counter.

“You’re all smiley and happy. Someone puked in my shop yesterday and you’re acting like this is the best job in the world.”

“It is!” You chuckle at his look before explaining, “It’s going to be a good day. Just let me enjoy this one for every hundred bad ones I’ve dealt with.”

“Sure.”

Wade enters, and you give him your full attention, though you never forget about Tim. He’s a constant in your life, and you wish you could have him by your side every moment, not just during roll call.

“Nolan, Harper is back so you can return to your TO,” Wade says.

“That’s why you’re so happy,” Tim muses. “You got rid of Nolan.”

You shake your head and smile before you stand. You’re patrolling in one of the nicest Los Angeles neighborhoods today, so you probably won’t see or hear Tim much today.

“Have a good one,” you tell him.

“Be careful,” he replies.

You exit the room, and Tim watches you go. Lucy walks to his side and stops, aware of what he’s looking at and longing for.

“Let’s go, boot, don’t just stand there,” Tim demands.

“Bradford,” Wade calls. “A word? Chen can stay.”

Tim nods and follows Lucy to the front of the room.

“Ferguson was released on parole this morning,” Wade says. “Sorry to tell you like this, but I thought you should know.”

“He had fifteen years left; how did this happen?” Tim asks.

“Who’s Ferguson?” Lucy inquires.

“Someone I arrested,” Tim answers. “He threatened to kill me when he got out.”

“Oh. Uh, should we-“

“That is up to Officer Bradford,” Wade interjects. “If you want to sit today out, I’ll understand.”

“No. I’m not letting him ruin my life, too. We can handle Ferguson if he’s stupid enough to show his face.”

“The parole board seems convinced he’s reformed, but we both know he’s a good liar and a better manipulator. Keep your eyes open, Tim, and don’t hesitate to call in anything you think is a threat.”

“Yes, sir. Let’s go, boot.”

Tim leads Lucy to the shop, and he's quieter than usual. Lucy hasn’t been a cop as long as him, but she knows what it’s like to have a criminal blame you for the consequences of their actions. She won’t push Tim, not about this, but she has questions about everything she heard.

“Pull up Roscoe Ferguson,” Tim says as he turns onto the road. “Get familiar with his face. If you see him, I want you to know it’s him.”

“You really think he’ll do something?” Lucy asks as she turns the dashboard computer toward her.

“I’m counting on it.”

“Dispatch, this is 7-Adam-9, are there any alerts in my area?” you ask into the radio.

“Negative, 7-Adam-9.”

You nod to yourself and place the radio back in the console. The morning has been quiet and slow. You know you shouldn’t complain; a sunny drive in the hills is rarely a bad thing, but you’re a cop, and you’re getting bored.

“7-Adam-9, switch to channel 4 for Sergeant Grey,” dispatch instructs.

You turn the channel dial and let Wade know you’re there. He doesn’t answer, and you slow at a stop sign as you bounce the radio against your thigh.

“You’re in the hills, right?” Wade asks suddenly.

He doesn't use your name or call number, only asks a rushed question. It concerns you, but you remain professional.

“Yes, sir,” you answer. “Do you need me to come back?”

“No, stay up there. Just wanted to double-check.”

“What’s going on?”

Wade goes silent again, and you repeat the question.

“Nothing, I hope. Just trying to keep everyone connected to Bradford out of the heart of LA today.”

“Why?”

“Ferguson was released.”

“He has 15 years left on his sentence!” you exclaim into your empty car.

“I know. I’m trying to get everything figured out and petition for it to be reversed, but for now, just keep working.”

“Yes, sir.”

You turn the channel back and set the radio down. Roscoe Ferguson hates Tim and would do anything to get to him. Tim knows you're here for him, so you focus on your assignment. The Hollywood hills are quiet this morning, but you know better than to let your guard down.

As you turn onto Tahoe Drive, you notice a black truck in your rearview. He gets close to the tail of your shop but slows suddenly and turns onto Tahoe Place. You roll your eyes; the people who live in the Hills drive like they own the hills. They probably do, but it doesn’t excuse unsafe vehicle operation.

You round the bend where Tahoe Drive turns into Lake Hollywood Drive, and the Hollywood Reservoir comes into view. When you glance up, you see the black truck speeding toward you again. You hit the lights and leave them on for a few seconds as a warning, but the driver doesn’t slow. If they pass you, you’ll stop them and issue a ticket, you decide.

There’s a point on Lake Hollywood Drive where there’s less than 200 feet of terrain between the road and the reservoir. It’s covered in sparse foliage, but it would be easy enough to get to the water or hide in the trees. You realize too late that the truck isn’t slowing down or moving to pass you as you near that point. It rams into you from behind, and you lurch forward before the seatbelt catches and snatches you backward. Steering is pointless as the shop slides into a small patch of dirt. The truck is still driving, pushing your car forward. The driver stops just before you collide with a tree, and you reach for the radio.

It's fallen from the console, and the seatbelt holds you uncomfortably tight to your seat. As you wrestle to free yourself and get the radio, you don’t see the man exit the truck or approach your window. He hits it with an illegal tool used for breaking into cars, and you turn your face away as glass showers over you.

“Hi,” he greets. “7-Adam-9, right?”

“And you’re Roscoe Ferguson,” you answer.

“Bradford, get back to the station,” Wade radios, “Now.”

“What’s going on?” Tim asks as he makes a U-turn.

“Ferguson stole a truck. We don’t know where he went after or what he’s planning to do.”

“We should find him,” Lucy says.

“And don’t say you should go look for him,” Wade adds. “You’re too close to this.”

“He’s not going to kill me, Grey,” Tim argues. “Let me help. I caught him once; I can do it again.”

“Get back to the station. That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tim sighs as he continues driving toward the station. The last time he worried about Roscoe Ferguson, you were sitting beside him. Though you’ll never take the credit, Tim thinks you’re the main reason he finally got Ferguson in cuffs. 

“What now?” Lucy asks.

“We find a way to help find Ferguson,” Tim replies.

“Get out,” Ferguson demands. 

He pushes the gun closer to your face, and you raise your hands slowly. Your left shoulder aches from the impact of the seatbelt, and as you reach through the broken window to open your door, you feel the tiny scratches littering your face and neck sting. Ferguson pulls you away from the shop and pushes you toward the reservoir.

“What’s your plan here, Roscoe?” you ask.

He taps the gun against your back to make you keep walking. With your back to him, you slide your hand into your pocket and remove the laminated piece of paper you keep in it. It falls to the ground, and you hope it’s enough to help Tim find you and Roscoe. 

“Kill me to get to Tim? Hurt him without touching him because you know he won’t let you get the chance?”

“Shut up!” Ferguson yells. “Walk!”

Taunting him may not be your brightest decision, but making him mad will make him careless. When you reach the water, he grabs your belt and pulls you backward. Your breath rushes out as your back hits the ground, but you smile through the pain.

“You will never beat him,” you say.

“Tim Bradford took everything from me. Let’s see how he likes the feeling,” Ferguson responds.

He raises the gun to your face and pushes the barrel against your forehead. You keep your eyes on him, unwilling to flinch in the face of death. He changes his mind, however, and brings the butt of the handle down against your temple instead, and everything goes dark as the water blows in the wind.

Tim and Lucy have been relegated to desk duty. With Ferguson on the run and numerous threats against Tim’s life, Wade decided it would be best for him to stay here. Wade watches them from his office and shakes his head when Lucy begins twirling her handcuffs around her finger. His phone rings and Wade steps away from the glass door to answer it.

“Sergeant Grey,” he answers.

He listens silently before lowering the receiver and stepping out into the station. Tim looks up, and his expression drops immediately.

“What happened?” Tim asks as he stands.

“They found the stolen truck. It was involved in an accident near the reservoir. He, uh… Ferguson ran a cop off the road, and they’re both missing.”

“Who?” Tim asks, urgency and panic lacing the syllable.

Before Wade can answer, dispatch reads your badge number in a missing officer alert, and Tim’s blood runs cold. He freezes, staring at Wade as he realizes what has happened and that it’s his fault. Tim never anticipated Ferguson going for the people Tim cares about – loves – and he should have.

“Let me go out there,” Tim demands lowly. “I can find her.”

“I shouldn’t,” Wade answers. He looks to Lucy and adds, “But I will. Don’t try to do this alone, Bradford. Take help where you can get it.”

“I don’t want the credit; I want her back,” Tim snaps.

“Then get to the reservoir and do what you do best, Tim.”

Lucy nods at Wade, an unspoken promise that she’ll do her best to help him and keep him from spiraling. They both know that it’s easier said than done.

“Tim,” you call out when you wake.

“Nope, just me,” Ferguson says.

He’s sitting across from you as he carves a piece of wood into a chipmunk. Your arms are tied tightly behind you, and one of your ankles is secured to a metal pole with your handcuffs. Whatever he’s planning to do to you will hurt you, but it will hurt Tim much worse.

“I hope you’re asking for a lot of ransom,” you mumble.

“You and I both know this isn’t about money. It’s about that little partner of yours and what he did to me.”

“Making you pay for your crimes? Yeah, he’s a terrible person.”

Ferguson moves forward quickly. The half-finished wood carving falls to the floor as he presses the knife under your jaw.

“These whittling knives are small, but I can cut an artery before you can call out to him again,” he threatens.

You swallow, causing the knife to bob in his hand. He presses harder and turns to the left before standing. Warm blood trickles down your neck, and you wonder what he plans to do to you before he kills you. If you didn’t have so much faith in Tim, you’d be tempted to anger Ferguson and trick him into killing you early. It’s a terrible thing to think, but at the end of the day, you’re a cop, and you know when your chances aren’t good enough. Right now, they are.

“When he gets here, he will put a bullet in you this time,” you tell Ferguson.

“You stopped him last time,” he answers.

He’s planning to use you as a human shield; let Tim be the one to finish you off in the darkness. Perhaps that’s why you’re underground. The only light you see is from a small lamp; when it goes off, you will be plunged into complete darkness.

“Stop talking,” Ferguson demands as he retrieves his chipmunk. “We don’t have much air in here.”

You try not to let your shock show, but as you look around and fail to see a single air vent, you worry that Tim won’t make it in time. Forcing yourself to take a steady breath, you close your eyes.

“No, no, no,” Ferguson chides. “No napping. We have to stay awake for the pre-game, and the final score.”

He tips your head back, and your eyes open instinctually. When he sees that, he tightens his grip on your jaw and circles you. Looking at him upside-down, you tug against your restraints. He raises a foot and places it on your bound hands before stepping down hard and fast. Your shoulders pull backward at a painful angle with no room that makes you yell in pain. Ferguson’s laugh drowns out your scream, and he keeps his hand on your jaw as he lays a rope over the back of your neck to hang over your shoulders.

“He’s going to kill you,” you say between pants when Ferguson releases your face.

He hinges at his hip, invading your personal space as he smiles and says, “You too.”

“Bradford, there’s blood,” an officer alerts.

Tim steps to your open shop door and sees a few small, oblong blood drops on your seat. Based on the shape, you were in motion when they fell, and it wasn’t enough blood to kill you.

“Probably from the glass,” he decides. “Let’s move toward the reservoir. We can’t tell footprints apart but watch where you’re stepping!”

“Tim!” Lucy yells from just past the tree line.

He jogs to her side and looks down. She found a small, laminated piece of paper, and Tim recognizes it immediately. Your self-proclaimed “perfect fortune” from one of your first dinners together as P2s rather than rookies. He picks it up and looks toward the water. He’s looking in the right place, you made sure to tell him that, but he feels like he’s missing something else.

“Please,” you whimper, even though you know he can’t hear you.

“How many more times do I have to tell you?” Ferguson asks. “He’s not here.”

The only thing on your mind is Tim because if you stop thinking about him you’ll only know the unbearable pain and the man inflicting it. Ferguson places his foot between your legs, pushing against the chair slowly. It tips back, and you close your eyes and imagine Tim catching you. It doesn’t stop the initial pain of your leg being held in one place by the handcuffs as the rest of your body moves back or the scream you release as you hit the floor, but it does give you a reason to keep fighting. Ferguson pulls you up nearly as fast as he tipped you over, and the rope digs in against the side of your neck.

“This is the best workout I’ve ever had,” he says.

He wipes the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and you notice how hot and thick the air seems. Ferguson admitted that the air supply was limited, so if you start wasting it, maybe he will leave.

“If you call him…” you begin slowly. “Let me hear Tim Bradford’s voice one more time, and I will lure him here for you.”

“Do you think I’m dumb?” Ferguson asks.

You nod and immediately regret it when he pulls the rope and forces your head down toward your chest.

“I’m not letting you take control. This is my plan, and it ends beautifully.”

“I can’t do this!” Tim yells.

He runs his hands over the back of his head and down his face as he squats by the reservoir. There are no other hints about where Ferguson took you, nothing to guide Tim toward saving you, only dirt and broken promises. He told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you; Tim whispered the promise in the dead of night when you were asleep during an overnight patrol, yet he’s holding himself to keeping it like it will kill him if he doesn’t. Because it will.

“Tim don’t give up yet,” Lucy encourages. She lowers beside him and lays a hand on his back. “We can do this, but we have to work together. The paper means something right? Could it be more than an indication she was here?”

Tim wipes under his eye, and Lucy’s eyes widen as she realizes tears are streaming down his cheeks. He stops them quickly, but she pats his back to remind him he’s not fighting alone. You’re fighting, too, and Tim needs to remember that.

“Lucy, I lo-“ Tim stops suddenly, though Lucy is confident she knows where he was going. “I know what it means.”

He stands quickly, and Lucy follows him to the place where they found the fortune. The little strip of paper from a fortune cookie has been in your pocket since you read it, but not only for the encouraging message on the front.

“34831,” Tim says.

“Your badge number?” Lucy asks, tilting her head to the side. “What about it?”

“It was on the back of my fortune that night. Hers, though, didn’t have a number. So, we wrote one on it.”

“What’s the number?”

“2 25 12 9. I didn’t think she’d know what it meant.”

“What does it mean?”

“It’s an alphabet cypher, but backward.”

“B, Y, L, I,” Tim rattles off. “If she had this, she may have left more clues at those points: 2, 25, 12, and 9.”

“This would have been about 2,” Lucy says, gesturing to the ground. “That’s what, 2 meters from the car?”

Tim furrows his brows at Lucy’s use of meters but nods anyway.

“We can’t walk 25 meters forward, we’d be in the water,” Lucy points out.

“Then we need to spread out in every direction we can go 25 meters… Unless I’m wrong.”

“Don’t question it.”

“No, she would’ve fought. He wouldn’t have been able to make her go anywhere if she wasn’t willing to. We should assume that she couldn’t leave a trail after this point.”

“Then we’re back where we started?”

“Exactly.”

“Tim, what does that even mean?”

“She’s still here. They both are.”

Tim turns and yells for someone to get satellite imaging of the area and the camera footage from your car. Your body cam and police uniform shirt were discarded by the water but the cameras could tell them what happened before and during the initial attack.

“We’ll find her, Tim,” Lucy promises again.

“Thank you,” Tim whispers.

Running footsteps echo over the top of the tin deathtrap you’re in. Someone yells, and Ferguson ducks his head as he moves out of your sight.

“Tim!” you yell.

Your voice cracks, and as you prepare to yell again, Ferguson pulls the rope around your neck. It digs into your skin and compresses your windpipe. Tears begin leaking from your eyes, and after the day you’ve had, you don’t care to stop them.

“Tim, please,” you whisper.

“Welcome to the final round,” Ferguson says into your ear. 

He loosens the rope and pushes your chair forward. His foot pulls down against your hands again, pulling your shoulder muscles cruelly as they stretch to accommodate the impossible movement. You scream in agony as Ferguson pushes you past the point he stopped at previously.

“Did you stop to ask yourself what he’s thinking? Wouldn’t he have found you sooner if he cared? I’ve been out long enough that he knew, yet he let you out by yourself,” Ferguson taunts.

“You won’t win,” you say between ragged breaths.

Ferguson pulls your head to the side to hold the whittling knife against your windpipe, and the cut he made earlier pulls open. Your white shirt is stained with blood and tears, and even as your blinks slow and breathing begins to feel impossible, you trust Tim.

“The almighty Tim Bradford isn’t coming to save you. You know why? Because you’re already dead,” Ferguson says.

You force your eyes open and ignore the pain and fear to say, “So are you.”

Throwing your head backward, you ignore the sting of his knife sliding across the tender skin of your neck. Your skull hits Ferguson’s nose, and he staggers backward with a hand holding his face. Suddenly, you can’t pull a full breath into your lungs. Time has run out, and Tim isn’t here yet. You hold your breath as Ferguson stumbles behind you. He drops, and you see his hand and face are covered in blood. His chest rises and falls slowly, but you’re safe until the rest of the oxygen is used up.

“Tim,” you whisper toward the metal sheet above you.

“Wait!” Lucy calls. “The ground is hollow here.”

Tim returns to Lucy’s side and hears his footsteps echo. It sounds like there’s a metal sheeting under the dirt beneath his boots. He raises a hand to call a few officers over before someone screams. It’s muffled by the metal and earth, but it’s a clear sign of pain. Better than that, it means someone is still alive.

“Find a way in,” Tim demands quietly.

As he searches the area around the hollow spot, he wishes to hear your voice again. Not another scream, but an acknowledgement that you survived whatever caused you such agony.

"Bradford!” Janssen calls.

He waves Tim over and points to a small opening. Together, they lift the heavy steel cover away from the round hole. Another barrier of cloth and metal sheets blocks the entrance, and as Tim digs through, he wonders how much air is getting through, if any. The moment he can see inside the fortified bunker, he pulls his weapon and drops silently into the metal housing.

What was likely meant to be a storm shelter has been converted into a survivalist’s nightmare. A small corridor leads to a wider opening, and a dim light is the only sign that anyone is inside. Tim raises his guns and stays ready to shoot as he nears the opening.

“Tim,” you whisper.

Tim hears your voice and doesn’t hesitate to step into the open room and swing his gun as he clears the small, square area. Ferguson lies unconscious in the corner, and Tim can only see your back, the restraints keeping you in place, and the rope loosely wrapped around your neck and shoulders.

Your shoulders shake as you exhale slowly. When you notice that you can breathe again, you take a deep breath before letting your head fall forward.

“Tim,” you repeat, trying not to think of anything else.

Tim says your name as he holsters his gun. You sit up straight and try to turn your head to the side but are stopped by the pull of the rope and the pain in your shoulders. You hiss in pain before returning to your previous position.

“You can’t trick me, Roscoe,” you mumble.

Tim steps toward Ferguson and handcuffs him. He repeats your name as he moves into your line of sight. His hands are raised to his shoulders, though his expression is pure concern. When he sees the blood, sweat, and dirt covering you and your clothes, he has to fight not to rush to your side.

“Tim,” you say again. Your voice is louder than before but still has an untrusting quality. “Tim.”

When you start crying and lean toward Tim, he kneels before you. He reaches down carefully to use his key and remove the handcuff from your ankle. Your head rests on his shoulder as he moves, and when he sees the damage done to your ankle, the swelling, deep bruising, and handcuff-induced gash, he looks back at Ferguson.

Tim sits up slowly and raises a hand toward your face. He pushes your hair back softly and waits until your eyes meet to speak.

“I need to go get backup,” he says.

“No, no! Please don’t leave me, Tim,” you plead through your slowing tears.

You lean forward and wince when your shoulder meets its new range of motion.

“I need to get Ferguson out of here,” Tim explains. “There’s a lot of people above us waiting for me to signal.”

“Tim, please.”

“Can I yell?”

You swallow as Tim moves closer to you. He stops an inch away from you, with your knees almost touching his ribs.

“I’m not going to yell unless you say I can,” he adds.

Tim waits for your nod, then leans away from you slightly to yell for Janssen and Lucy to come in.

“Help me,” you whisper when Tim’s eyes return to you.

He sits back on his heels as he unloops the rope from around you. It’s heavy, and he sees your shoulders drop once it’s away from you. They drop unevenly, though, and he knows you need more help than he can give you.

“I’m staying with you,” Tim promises, “but I have to untie your hands.”

You shake your head quickly, and Tim moves his hands to the sides of your thighs as he agrees not to leave. He asks Lucy to free your hands and keeps his hands on you as Lucy cuts the restraints.

“Thank you,” you say.

Tim doesn’t answer before you pull your arms forward. With them free, you don’t hesitate to raise them and wrap them around his shoulders. It hurts, and you sob as you fall forward and cling to Tim. He welcomes your touch and wraps his arms around your waist, but he doesn’t touch you, too mindful of how injured you are and where those unseen injuries are.

“I knew you’d come,” you say through your tears.

Tim looks over your shoulder as Janssen and a few other officers carry Ferguson to the opening. He should call an EMT to meet you here, but he can’t let you go yet. His grip tightens around your waist without thinking. When your only reaction is relaxing against him, Tim holds you as tightly as he needs to. Your tears are drying, and you turn your face toward Tim’s neck to speak.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave more clues,” you begin. “But I knew you didn’t need them.”

“The paper was smart,” Tim replies. “And I will always find you.”

“He wanted to lure you down here and trick you into killing me. Every time I called out for you he reminded me that we would both die.”

Tim exhales deeply, unsure how to tell you he knows you and he’d never make that mistake. He sits back, twisting you so that he’s holding you against his chest rather than letting you support your own weight.

“It hurts,” you say softly.

“Can you get out of here? Go up the ladder?” he asks.

“There’s a ladder?”

Tim’s brows furrow at your question. How did Ferguson get you down here if you weren’t conscious when you came in? He shakes his head; the detectives (and Tim) will look into the details of your abduction later. For now, your safety is the priority.

“Can you climb out?” Tim asks.

“Not without help,” you answer. “I don’t think I can walk.”

Tim looks at your ankle again, and his eyes catch on the fresh blood pooling against your collarbone. He leans closer to you to find the source. When he sees the cut across the front of your neck, he knows you need help sooner rather than later.

“Hold on,” he instructs you.

“I- I can’t move my shoulder.”

Tim lays you against the metal floor and looks at your left shoulder. It’s out of its socket, but Tim can’t risk pushing it back in without knowing if your muscles or ligaments are still intact.

“Please just get me out of here.”

Tim nods and turns around so your hips are beside his shoulders. He leans down and pulls your legs over his shoulder rather than your arms. With one hand pressing your shoulder to your side, Tim stands and pulls you up in a modified fireman’s carry. You stifle the yell that tries to escape, and Tim’s heart breaks when he hears it. He spent so much time fighting, desperate to find you, that he didn’t consider how different things would be when he did.

With the help of Janssen, Nolan, and Lucy, Tim gets you back above ground. He collapses to the ground but makes sure you’re set down with care. You reach out for him immediately, and Tim pulls your chest to his again. The paramedics are close, but until they arrive, Tim will hold you like he never has.

“I’m so sorry,” Tim whispers.

“You found me,” you reply. “You found me.”

Your right hand squeezes Tim’s shirt in your hand as you hold onto him. You didn’t doubt him for a second. Being in his arms gives you the safety and comfort you need to fall apart because you know he’ll hold you together.

“I know what it means,” you say. “Or I think I do. B-Y-L-I; it’s backwards, right?”

Tim nods against you, and you smile through your tears. The paramedics arrive, and you’re carefully removed from Tim’s grasp, though his hand stays in yours. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to let go, but Tim has already made a new promise, and he won’t leave your side until he’s forced to.

“Where’s Kojo?” you ask as Tim leads you into his house.

“He’s staying with Lucy tonight. He gets excited when he sees you and I didn’t want him to hurt you,” Tim answers.

He guides you to the couch and sits beside you after placing your things in his guest bedroom. Tim refused to let you return to your apartment alone after being discharged from the hospital, and you didn’t need much convincing to stay with him while you heal.

You lean your head against Tim’s shoulder, careful not to jostle your shoulder in its sling. He moves his arm to welcome you closer and tilts his head to rest beside yours.

“It’s I love you backward, right?”

Tim looks down at your hand, surprised to see your fortune in it. He takes it from you and flips it to see his handwriting. He nods and sits up straight. When you turn toward Tim, he wipes under your eyes as if he can still see the tears you cried when he saved you. Your skin is littered with scars and reminders of what Ferguson did to you, but Tim still seems to only see you underneath all of it.

“It’s I love you, Bradford,” he answers. “Whether you wanted that to mean ‘from Bradford’ or something else.”

“I begged for you to save me while I was down there with him.”

“I’m-“

“Don’t apologize. I just- I need you to know I trust you that much because I know you love me. I’ve known for a long time. But I also knew that even if you didn’t find me in time, I would die loving you. And life was worth living because you were in it.”

Tim’s hands rise out of his lap before freezing. He looks down at your neck and back to your eyes before smiling. His eyes look misty, but you know yours are, too, so you decide not to tease him about it this one time.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to put my hands to kiss you,” he mumbles.

You hold his shoulder as you lean in and kiss him. His hands raise to your waist without thought, and other than the soreness of using your obliques to search for Tim while tied in place, it’s a painless touch. Tim moves slowly and intentionally as he kisses you, reminding you of everything he said and did, even what you weren’t present for.

“I love you, Tim Bradford,” you say against his lips.

“I love you. I will always love you, and I will never lose you again.”

Tim slides the fortune into your pocket as he kisses you again, and every pain and fear you faced disappears because you know Tim will always find you and make you whole.

[queer-coffee]

simple words | pt. 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Read on Ao3

Sanji sparks a light, just as the rising sun sends a beam of light through his tiny kitchen porthole.

Really, he wants to ask Franky if he can do something about that. Sanji’s favorite part of the day, and he can’t properly enjoy it through just a tiny porthole what with croissants that need an egg wash before the dough gets too warm, and bacon cooking alongside a maple glaze that will burn the sugar if it gets too hot, and weighing out the proper mix of five different tea leaves that he knows makes Zoro smile into his cup when he thinks no one is looking, and all the other things that must be done in a precise order, perfectly timed, so that breakfast is ready, but with a welcoming sort of ease fit for first thing in the morning, as his crewmates start to stumble in after a late night to enjoy it.

Not to mention, he needs more airflow in here. Sanji pauses as the sunray reflects off the ceramic of his stovetop to open the porthole. He exhales in its direction and ashes his cigarette after, so nothing disrupts the flavor of this meal.

But Franky worked so hard on this ship, and Sanji knows how much thought was put into every other aspect of his kitchen, his wine cellar, his aquarium with the freshest and most delicious fish he can find, that he can’t bring himself to critique something so trivial.

A crisp gust of wind blows the smoke back in his face, and into his kitchen.

Sanji sighs.

It’s so trivial.

But he can’t get it out of his head, what that stupid moss brain said to him last night.

And he knows it wasn’t personal, or intentional, or even really meant as an insult at all.

In fact, it was one of those rare moments that Sanji loves, when they catch each other in just the right mood, both just drunk enough, both alone.

Their crewmates were all laughing and yelling and drinking in the room over, oblivious to what was happening to Sanji just a stone’s throw away.

Sanji was returning with a few favorite picks from the wine cellar. A red blend for Robin, a sweet orange for Nami, whole milk for Luffy he grabbed from the kitchen, and whatever table wine for the rest, except for a small bottle of the finest sake he could get his hands on at that last island.

And the Sunny hit a swell. And Sanji, normally used to these unexpected changes in his center of gravity from being on a ship his whole stinking life, was too distracted polishing a smudge off the sake bottle to react in time, and lost his balance.

Sanji was ready to go down, unable to break his fall with his arms so full of precious cargo. He held on tight and braced for impact, but that impact never came.

Because the next thing he knew, strong arms were wrapped around him, and his nose was buried in someone’s musky shoulder. He caught his breath, inhaling sharply.

It didn’t take him but a second to place that warm scent, and Sanji’s heart pounded hard. He could feel the sweat on Zoro’s neck from the warm, muggy night, and still smell the sweet rum of that cocktail Usopp spilled on him.

“Hey shit cook, watch where you’re going” Zoro barked, pushing Sanji away from his chest, “You can hold your liquor better than that. How drunk are you?”

Sanji gripped his liquor bottles tighter, realizing that, while he was no longer buried in Zoro’s chest, Zoro still hadn’t let go of his shoulders, his grip fierce.

“Not drunk enough to be getting manhandled by you.” Sanji retorted, enjoying that spark a suggestive comment always put into Zoro’s eye.

But that spark was a little different tonight.

Zoro took a step in. Instead of muttering something insulting back, like the swordsman usually would, he pulled Sanji in closer. “It’s a good thing I don’t like women anyway,” he said.

Sanji’s heart fell.

“Lucky me,” Sanji muttered back. He pushed by Zoro, suddenly resenting all touch.

He took a few pounding steps, but stopped.

Sanji turned around. Zoro was frozen where he left him.

“This is for you,” Sanji said, holding out the bottle of sake. Zoro turned and stared at it, for a moment. Then he took it.

Sanji left before Zoro said anything else.

I don’t like women anyway.

The words replay in his head for the thousandth time that morning, like a knife twisting. He takes a small sip of coffee, a new habit he picked up since his brief stay on Whole Cake Island, and opens the oven door to put the croissants in. A gust of hot air blows his hair back, taking him aback.

He cut it short recently, too short to tie back, and he still isn’t used to having it loose rather than up when cooking.

Nami said she loved short hair like that on girls, while she was cutting it, but that it would make him look like a boy. Sanji didn’t tell her that was kind of the whole point.

It’s hard to tell everyone that he is finally coming to terms with the fact that he isn’t a woman, like they all think. That he’s never been, and it wasn’t until his time with Iva-sama that he finally realized it. That he learned what all those feelings he had meant, and that there were other people like him who also felt those things.

At the time he rejected it so horribly, terrified that he was also like that. He saw how difficult life was for those people, and he didn’t want his life to be any harder than it had been. He worked so hard to press those negative memories back. His childhood. He never wanted anything to be so hard again.

But then he trained alongside them. He talked to them. He cooked for them. And laughed with them. And he learned more about what being queer really was. It was hard, he was right about that, but it was also free. And all he ever wanted was to be free. Free like them.

It would just be hard first.

And he is just finally accepting that. Ever since he nearly lost everything that ever meant anything to him on Whole Cake Island, he is craving that freedom even more now. He thinks it’s finally time to go get it.

It will just be hard first.

Sanji inhales on his cigarette, allowing the nicotine and caffeine to gently wash over him, as he repeats it to himself, still in awe of how good it feels to not only know, but to accept. I am a transgender man.

Sanji exhales out the porthole, and closes the oven gently, letting that good feeling go.

He thinks of Zoro.

And wonders how on earth he’ll tell his friends.

Part 2

[thewulf]

Sir || Aaron Hotchner

Request: Do you think you could do a Hotch x ADHD reader where they are energetic and talkative all day since Aaron came back from a tough case. With the constant questions and comments Aaron gets irritated due to stress and says something like “can you be quiet for 5 seconds please” or “enough with the stupid questions, it’s annoying” and the reader ends up talking less with him and only responds with short answers and they try to suppress their ADHD ticks around him.

A/N: Well, I couldn't sleep on the plane home yesterday and I found a surge of inspo! Had so much fun writing this one. I just adore Hotch! Thanks for the request! @ghostridrr

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Y/N

Word Count: 3.9k +

You’d never expected to be dating an FBI agent nonetheless fall hopelessly head over heels for the guy in a matter of months. Coming from humble beginnings in a small southern town. Not many people made it out, but you did. You were determined. Determined to get the hell out and never look back. So, you did. You made it happen. Working your ass off through college becoming a civil engineer and finding a job at a firm in Washington DC you quickly found your groove. You worked your way up from an engineer to a manager to a project manager within ten years. Loving your job meant giving your all which didn’t leave much time for your personal life nor a love life. It’s not like you hadn’t tried you were just busy.

 It all hit you on your birthday that you wanted more. You wanted a partner. You wanted to have a life with somebody. For years you put in effort to try. Dating good guys and shitty ones alike. You were about to give it up for good after the years of trying. But the universe had a different plan for you.

It all started so casually on a sunny Monday morning at Quantico. Your firm had been contracted out to completely renovate the old Quantico offices and bring them into the 21st century. You’d absolutely fallen in love with your job, the project manager, over the course of the six months. Between working with the clients, budgeting, staging, and executing the demo and construction you’d found loved. It was the perfect job that kept your busy brain occupied and constantly moving. Always showing up to work with a big cheesy smile on your face and ending the day with an inevitable streak of dirt across your shirt or jeans.

Everything went so smoothly until your crew moved up to the sixth floor. The BAU. Whatever the hell that is. Apparently, nobody had warned the boss man and he wasn’t too thrilled to say the least. You were used to working around the residents of the floor, but this wasn’t starting out to great considering your crew would be working on the floor for the next few months.

“What the hell is all this? Why is there tarp in my conference room?” A strong voice broke you from the planning board you were reviewing with your construction Forman, Eric.

Snapping your head around you made eye contact with possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Of fucking course he had to be hot as hell. This was certainly going to make things way more interesting for you.

Putting on your best smile you slowly walked over to him, hardhat and high visibility vest and all, “I’m so sorry sir. I thought somebody from your leadership would’ve informed you. My crew is starting some demo and renovations on this floor today. We’ll do our best to keep the noise down, but we might have to kick you out of a few spots every now and then.” Trying your best to charm the man with a big smile you only felt intimated when he simply just looked at you. As if he was studying you. Not frowning, not smiling, stoic as hell. You involuntarily took a step back. Intimidating the hell out of you.

He must’ve picked up on your discomfort as his straight-faced gaze softened ever so slightly. He pinched the bridge of his nose as you cocked your head to the side observing him. He must’ve been choosing his words very carefully.

“I don’t have time for this today. I’m sorry.” He sighed in clear frustration. A real frustration you’d seen time and time again on the job.

You frowned. Annoyed at his leadership for failing to tell him you were about to ruin his next few months as your crew worked through the floor. You had to think quick. This was your job after all, “I’ll tell you what sir. We’ll start over on those conference rooms this week. Hopefully that gives you time to sort it out?” You pointed to the rooms on the other side of the office, not the large one his team clearly needed.

He gave you a curt nod. His gaze almost fully softening as you tried to compromise with him still with a genuine smile on your face. Even he had to admit that smile was breaking him down far faster than he would’ve thought possible. He had yet to even look at a woman since Haley’s death, that was years ago now. It freaked him out a little. He’d been so fine on his own. Figuring out a good routine with Jack and Jess. Getting too complacent. He knew it wasn’t fair to Jack. Especially since he was getting to an age where a mom was crucial. Jack needed somebody to lean on and it certainly wasn’t fair to Jess to pick that up.

“It won’t mess your plans up?” The handsome stranger asked you. Your smile grew as you knew he was going to be willing to work with you. More often than not you’d have to get into with whomever was arguing back with you, often the government trying to shut you down. But you knew better. You always had all the permits you needed and knew the rule book like the back of your hand. That’s why you excelled. You never let anybody get the better of you. ADHD was a curse and a blessing at the same damn time.

Shaking your head you continued, “Not at all! That’s construction. You plan, and then it changes 45 times before you actually start. It’s no big deal at all. Really.” You tried to reassure him. He looked embarrassed that he was so upset only a few moments prior. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. You knew you had at least two months of face to face with the guy. Starting off on the wrong foot was the worst thing you and the crew could do.

“I’m sorry. If you wouldn’t mind. We have a crucial case involving some kids…” He stopped himself before he divulged too much. He didn’t want you to get kicked out on his own accord. He knew you only had a clearance to enter the building. Nothing more, nothing less. He wouldn’t risk that at your stake.

“No explanations necessary sir. We’ll find a better day to demo.” You never dropped your smile as you maintained eye contact with him. You found that making sure to look whomever in the eyes always met you with better than looking around, looking scared.

“Aaron. Sir is too formal. Aaron Hotchner. My team, whenever they get here, will call me Hotch. Call me whatever.” He stuck his hand out for you to take. Gently you set your hand in his. You’d always been taught to go for the death grip when shaking hands. It established dominance or some bullshit like that. Especially since you were a woman in such a male dominated field. Working in a man’s world was exhausting. But something struck you as different with the man. So gentle it was.

“Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m Y/N.” He shook your hand just as gently as you set your hand in his. You weren’t sure if he felt the pull that you felt but you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“It’s nice to meet you to Y/N.” The handshake when on for a little too long. You were positive Eric was going to give you hell for this when you walked back over, “And again, I’m sorry for the outburst. These cases get stressful.”

You laughed a giggle that shouldn’t have come out of your mouth at work. His stoic expression tweaked into a soft smile after hearing your laugh, “Believe me when I say that was tame. The yelling matches I’ve gotten in with men twice my age are too plentiful to count.”

He laughed this time finally dropping your hand, gently of course, “I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”

You shrugged, “Part of the job. Plus, it’s fun to yell back sometimes.” His small smile grew into a much larger one, eyes crinkling and all. You’d done it. You’d charmed him.

“Hotch!” A female voice came yelling out of the conference room, “Round table, let’s go.” The pretty blonde-haired lady smirked at him before turning back to the room. The two of you failed to see his team file in during the conversation.

He broke his gaze turning around to see his agent vanishing from the doorway, “Got to go. Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

You nodded your head, “Likewise Aaron.”

The rest was literally history. He ended up bringing you some sort of coffee or baked good every morning he was in the office, which you learned very quickly wasn’t all that often. He and his team seemed to be away more than they were actually there. You took advantage of that and fixed their office spaces and conferences rooms right as they left for their trips. You’d check in with Penny to make sure you weren’t in the way when they got back.

Small chit chats in the morning turned to lunch “dates” as Eric so kindly called them. You’d refused to call them as such, not ever truly able to gauge whether he was actually interested in you or not. You tried to make it as blatantly obvious as possible, but he was Aaron. Calm, cool and collected. The two of you had even been the butt of office jokes as you got closer. You didn’t seem to care though. It felt too good with him to give whatever you had up.

Lucky for you those lunch dates turned to dinner dates and before you knew it you were meeting Jack and spending time at his place. Weeks turned to months, and you were spending almost every night at the Hotchner’s. You and Jack were getting along as thick as thieves. Aaron even trusting you to watch him while he was gone. You made Jack promise not to tell his daddy that you gave him ice cream almost every night. It was a secret between the two of you.

Jack was off on a summer camp, and you’d just wrapped up the Quantico project leaving you far too bored sitting at Aaron’s place. So, you did what you always did when you had nothing to do. You cranked up the music and started cleaning. It was a Tuesday morning, and you really weren’t expecting Aaron to get back from his case. It was a long one out in Colorado. He never gave you the specifics, but he sounded horribly upset each night when he was on the phone with you. Distracted and distraught.

You hadn’t heard the door open and close as you were upstairs cleaning. But when your music abruptly stopped you hightailed it downstairs to get it going again. To your surprise your boyfriend was standing at the kitchen island rubbing his temples. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to be in the best of moods.

“Hon.” You grinned ear to ear seeing him standing there, “Your home! How was the trip? Happy to be home? I missed you tons. Especially with Jack being gone, I haven’t had anybody to talk to.” You wrapped your arms around his front, hugging him from behind. You were usually really good at picking up on social cues, but you must’ve been too damn excited to see him to pick up on his mood.

“Y/N.” He gave you a half smile before squeezing your hands tightly but gently. Like he was afraid of losing you.

“Aaron.” You let go of him brushing the now overgrown hair out of his face, “Are you alright? Was the trip okay? I just missed you so much. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad. I’ve really gotten used to having Jack around. I wish you didn’t have to go so often.” You admitted.

He sighed a deep one, “It was a tough case.” Was all he gave you. You should’ve known there that he wasn’t going to give you much else. But your stupid ass brain decided to ignore the cues. It wasn’t really your fault that it bounced around so quickly. You’d even taken your meds today. It was something about Aaron that seemed to break anything those meds were holding back.

“Want to talk about it? I know you never do but it could be good for you. You know? It’s not great to hold that kind of stuff in. It’ll eat away at you.” You just wanted him to be the Aaron you knew. Not the ball of stress standing before you.

He shook his head, “Not this time.”

“You sure? You look upset hon. I don’t like to see you like that.” You continued not noticing him closing his eyes. Surely more than irritated with you at the moment. But were you going to catch that? Nope.

“Positive.”

You nodded, “Alright. If you say so. Are you hungry? I can whip you up some lunch…”

He interrupted you before you could go on whatever long winded rant you had built up, “Y/N, can you be quiet for five seconds please? I’m trying to think.” You were turned away from him and didn’t see the immediate regret that washed over his face. He didn’t really mean it he just needed you to stop for a moment. He wasn’t expecting you to be home and wasn’t ready for the bombardment of questions. After cases that involved so many deaths it took him a moment to come back around. He needed a second to himself. The job was hard and you knew that.

And with that you felt your heart deflate right then and there. The smile that hadn’t dropped since he came home immediately vanished without a trace. Your happy eyes immediately dropping and filling with hot, wet tears that desperately wanted to spill over. You’d been with him for almost half a year and that had yet to come out of his mouth. It took you by surprise, to say the least.

“I’m so sorry.” You squeaked out before walking out of the kitchen hastily. You weren’t good with conflict. Always running away from it.

He knew he fucked up. You weren’t overly sensitive, but he knew what he said was over the line. Especially since you were simply trying to help him. But he also needed that moment. So, he shamefully let you sit upstairs with your thoughts. You had an issue of letting things ruminate in your head for far too long.

Letting the tears fall you continued to clean the bathroom in silence. Why were you like this? As soon as you got comfortable with someone you seemed to ruin it with your dumb ass brain. You should’ve known he was exhausted. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks. Cases never ended well when he was gone for over a week let alone two. You should’ve backed off the second he started giving you short answers. Stupid stupid brain ruining everything.

Once you finished you thought it best to spend some time back at your own apartment. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy him into breaking up with you. Tip towing downstairs you found him asleep on the couch. Biting your lip, you scribbled a note letting him know you went home making a dumb excuse that your friend needed you. As much as you wanted to spend the night with him, he clearly needed it alone.

It wasn’t long after you got home that your phone buzzed. Looking down you saw Aaron was calling. Deciding it best to give him space you decided not to pick up. When it rang for a second time you answered, “Hey.” Why were those stupid tears threatening to spill again?

“Sweetheart where are you?”

You frowned, “Home. Emma needed some help with a dress.” You partially lied. Your friend Emma really did need help hemming her dress, something you were oddly good at. But she wasn’t coming over until the weekend.

“Oh, are you coming back after? We can make Spaghetti, your favorite.” You knew this was his attempt to apologize. Quickly realizing in the relationship that Aaron was a quality time kind of guy, his true love language.

Should you? You weren’t feeling great about the whole thing and a night away might make the heart grow fonder, “I don’t think so Aaron. I’m tired and she’ll be over for a while.” Another lie. You hated doing this to him but you just couldn’t confront it head on. It just wasn’t something you were ready for.

“Oh, okay.” He sounded sad. It made your heart lurch just thinking about it, “Come over tomorrow after work?”

“Yeah, sure.” You knew you were being short with him but God, you just didn’t want to annoy him. A specialty you’d seemed to master.

“Everything alright sweetheart?”

Everything was not alright, “Yeah, just a bit tired. I should get going, she’s almost here.” You hardly heard the confirmation on the other end of the phone before you hung up on him.

You didn’t sleep well nor work great the next morning. Aarons comments ringing in your ears over and over again. When it came time to go home you took his route home. Knowing you had to confront this at some point. Aaron would make you. He always did. As bad as he was with words, he always made sure to talk things out.

Somehow, his black SUV was parked in the driveway. You had an inkling feeling he was going to beat you home no matter what. He might’ve even taken the day off today. Walking through the front door you found Aaron in the kitchen cutting up some tomatoes.

“Sweetheart.” He smiled while dropping the knife and walking over to you. Wrapping you in a tight hug he made sure to give you an extra squeeze. He was a profiler after all, he knew something was amiss.

“Hi.” You mumbled in his chest. Breathing him in completely you let your eyes close as you leaned into him. He was clearly trying to make it up to you now, might as well let him.

“Have a good day?” He asked while prying you away from his chest.

Shaking your head you decided to answer honestly. The little white lies you told yesterday making you feel gross, “No, not really.” Yawning you leaned your head back into his chest.

He starting brushing through your hair with his fingers having an inkling as to why, but he needed to know for sure. He hated hurting you. You were nothing but sweet to him and he returned it by snapping at you? He’d done it to Jack as well. He knew it was something he needed to work on even if he wouldn’t say it out loud.

“And why’s that?” He asked softly making sure not to startle you.

“Didn’t sleep great. Then my boss decided to put me on the worst project. Pipes.” You sighed. It wasn’t an attack on you, every project manager had to have a hellish utility job. You were just next on the list. It couldn’t have come at a worse time though. Pipe work meant constant oversight, and anything could shut the project down. Tedious and annoying but necessary, you knew it.

“I’m sorry honey.” He confined brushing through your hair.

“It’s fine.” You signed closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. You weren’t in the mood to talk which was strange for you. You always wanted to talk. To dive a little deeper. Understand him a bit more. But you weren’t feeling it. Was it actually your mood or were you just terribly self-conscious now? You refused to ask that question as you shoved it to the back of your mind.

“You sure it’s fine? You’re awfully quiet. I miss my chatty girl.” He knew he needed to apologize. He should’ve just spit it out already. But he wanted to see if he could see if it was anything more. He’d never seen you so down and out. You were always there with a smile and seeing you so sad had him worried. Had he done that to you? Did you not sleep because of him?

You nodded into his chest, “Yeah, ‘M just…” You paused. Was it really worth not telling the whole truth? Aaron would figure it out. He probably already had. He was doing that profiler shit on you now. As annoying as it was you grew to love it. It was him. You loved him. Everything about the man intrigued you, “Tired.” You finished. Not the whole truth and you knew it.

“Honey.” He kept brushing through your hair knowing how much it calmed you.

Feeling a little surge of bravery, you looked up to him, “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dismiss you yesterday.” He paused giving you a brief kiss on your forehead but not giving you enough time to respond before he continued, “I love all your questions. I really do. It’s just this last case was rough. And I know that’s no excuse to treat you like that. It’s just… this guy. He targeted women that looked just like you. It’s been an awful two weeks. I just miss you. Please stay?”

“Oh Aaron,” You frowned but squeezed him tightly, “I’m so sorry. If I had known…”

“I should’ve told you. Don’t apologize. I should be the one apologizing.” He kissed your forehead again holding it there. Just holding you in his arms.

Feeling so safe and secured in his arms made you feel every emotion all at once. Thrilled that he still felt the same about you. Embarrassed you took it so personally. Scared you would mess this up. So in love with the guy who recognized so easily what was bothering you. It was all too much for you. You couldn’t try to stop the tears that flowed down your cheeks even if you tried.

Aaron pried you away from him taking your head in his hands. Softly he wiped away the tears with his thumbs with a sad look on his face, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” His eyes searched your face for anything. His heart breaking just a little more seeing your hurt expression across ever feature.

Nodding, that’s all you could do. Absolutely you accepted his apology. He was so sincere with it you know he meant everything with his entire heart, “It’s okay.” You managed to choke out between breaths. After a moment the tears finally stopped. You’d normally be horrified by the sudden outburst but with him you weren’t. You knew he had you.

“It’s really not. I’m so sorry. I won’t do it again.” He assured you wiping away the final tears.

“Thank you, Aaron.”

He pulled you back into him, “I’m not perfect but I promise you I’ll try.”

“I know that.” You beamed up at him. You felt so much better. Words always helped, running away never did.

“I love you, my dear.” He smiled down at you while rocking you back in forth in his arms.

“And you know, I love you too.”

Taglist: @twilightlover2007 @morgthemagpie @ashie-babie @buckybarnessweetheart @wendy234678 @adhdannieedison @emilykolchivans @aurabambi @pipecleanerweyesfp @simp4f1 @ghostridrr @sunflowers-4

[skzdust]

Room 514

Part 1

This fic is the result of 1. Me going on a road trip and 2. A poll I did on here! I have the trip back coming up in a few days so I might do another poll to decide what I write on the way back lol!

Summary: You’re moving into a new suite halfway through your sophomore year at Stay University, populated by three guys: Jisung, Changbin, and Bang Chan. You meet their friends and quickly become a part of their group, but you find yourself wanting more with Jisung…

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Includes: slow burn (if I have the patience to write it slow lol), college au, roommates, besties with skz, gender neutral reader (if smut happens reader will be afab)

Word count: 1.3k

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist

——-

The lock to room 514 beeped, its LED turning green, and you moved your phone away. You took a breath and turned the handle.

You didn’t need to worry. The suite’s living room was empty. The decoration gave you hope, though; it was neat and decorated mostly in shades of blue, with a sunny yellow cover on the couch. You hoped it was like this all the time and not just because you were moving in today.

The suite had four single bedrooms, two half bathrooms, one shower, and a living room with a mini-fridge and microwave. You’d been living in a different hall just a few days ago, sharing a room with another girl, Catherine. She’d been awful ever since you’d walked in on her cheating on her boyfriend with another guy, spreading rumors and turning all your friends against you. You’d pleaded with your RA for a single room, and she’d helped you find a suite in another hall. It was a room with three guys, which made you a little anxious, but you’d jumped at the chance nonetheless.

“Hello?” You said, a little louder than you usually would speak.

Nothing.

You found room D, your room, in the hallway to the left. Room C, next door, had a handwritten sign beside the “C”: “Han Jisung.”

One of your roommates. You knew the others were named Changbin and Bang Chan, but you hadn’t met any of the three.

You pressed your phone to the lock on room D and walked in.

The room was small and bare, but you smiled at the fact that you’d have your own space at all. A lofted bed with plenty of storage space underneath was against the back wall, next to a desk and chair, and a tall chest of drawers was beside the closet.

You climbed up on the bed to look out the window. You had a rather ugly view of the parking lot, but the window faced South, so at least you’d get plenty of light.

There was a loud knock behind you.

You whirled around, almost falling off the bed. Potentially the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life was leaning in your doorway, a grin on his face. “You must be y/n!”

“Yeah, that’s… me.” You said with a little laugh. “And you’re…?”

“Jisung.” His smile grew. “Han Jisung.”

You hopped off the bed. “Jisung. You’re next door!”

“Yeah! Me and Changbin and Bang Chan are excited to have another roommate, it’s been just the three of us for a while.”

“Well, I’m kind of escaping a situation at the moment, so I’m looking forward to a fresh start, too.” You tried not to let your thoughts of Catherine make you angry.

“Well, you’re always welcome to hang out with us.”

“Thanks, that’s nice of you.”

“Actually, we’re having some people over tonight.” He raised his eyebrows. “Chill with us, if you don’t have to study or anything. We’re gonna watch Love Island.”

You grinned. “Love Island? Seriously?”

“How can you not love stupid reality TV with a bunch of hot people?” Jisung held his hands up. “Just saying, just saying. We’re probably gonna order pizza, too, if that helps convince you.”

“Not judging, just wasn’t expecting it.” You shrugged. “But yeah, I don’t have anything going on tonight, that sounds fun!”

“Sounds good. Do you need any help moving stuff in?”

“I think I’ve got it.” You waved your hand. “Just some stuff in the hallway.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you want help.”

“I will.”

He gave a lazy salute. “See you tonight!” He pushed off the doorway and twirled into the hall, and you heard his door click shut.

You squeezed your eyes shut, sending up a silent prayer. Please, please, please let him be single.

—

You stood in the center of the room, doing a little circle and judging it cute enough to be finished.

You’d been unpacking and decorating for a few hours, but the sounds of people in the living room had started about an hour ago, so you’d slowed down. You wanted to see Jisung again, but you were a bit anxious to meet his friends, as well as your other two roommates.

But there were only so many times you could rearrange your books or organize your clothes, and you knew it was a good idea to go out and join the party.

You checked your reflection in the mirror on the inside of the closet door, smoothing your hair, and left your room.

There were eight people in the living room of the suite, the only one you recognized being Jisung. And… wait, was that the guy you’d been on a project with in music technology last year? Hwang Hyunjin?

“Y/n!” Jisung jumped up from the couch when he saw you, beaming. “Guys, this is our new roommate!”

“Y/n?” The guy you were 99% sure was Hyunjin said, tilting his head. “I know you! We did a project together.”

“Yeah! I remember that! It’s Hyunjin, right?”

He smiled softly. “Yeah, Hyunjin. Nice to meet you again!”

You tried to remember back to the project. You’d loved the class, and you remembered the project going well. Hyunjin had been great to work with, doing his share of the planning and the legwork. You’d found him cute then, too, but freshman year you’d been even more timid, and you hadn’t made a move. You were kind of glad for that now, though.

Because Jisung was walking across the room to you, and standing right next to you, and you almost missed what he started to say because you could smell whatever cologne he used, and it smelled good.

“Okay, around the room we have...” He pointed at each of the guys. “Seungmin, Minho, Jeongin, you know Hyunjin, Felix, Bang Chan, he’s one of our roommates, and Changbin, he’s our other roommate.” He pointed to himself. “And you know me. Jisung.”

You nodded at each name, doing your best to match them to faces. “Got it. I’m decent with names, so I’ll do my best.”

Jisung bumped your shoulder, and you giggled. “I’m sure you’ve got it.” He made a shooing motion at Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor. “Pizza’s behind Seungmin.”

“What kind?”

“There’s pepperoni and there’s cheese.” Seungmin picked up a plate. “Here, I can grab you a slice, what do you want?”

“Just a slice of cheese, thanks.”

Seungmin handed Jisung the plate, and he made a little mock bow before holding it out to you. You smiled, taking it. “Thank you, butler.”

“Of course, my liege.” He winked, and a cloud of butterflies took flight in your chest.

“Nice to meet you, y/n!” Changbin leaned over the back of his chair and extended his hand. You shook it.

“Changbin, right?”

“Mhm. Roommates!”

“Yeah, that’s right.” You nodded.

“He sings a lot. You can tell him to shut up if you need to.” Bang Chan grinned. “I’m Bang Chan, I’m your other roommate.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t mind singing.”

“I mean, he has a decent enough voice, but it’s… frequent.” Jisung widened his eyes as he nodded. “Quite frequent.”

“Oh, come on.” Changbin rolled his eyes. “You all should be honored that you get to hear my singing. I’m gonna be recognized for my talent someday!”

“He also raps.” Jeongin added. “I’m sure you’ll hear that, too.”

“I’m an even better of a rapper than I am a singer!” He pointed around the room. “Feel honored!”

Felix held a hand to his chest. “We all feel so honored. All hail the most beautiful voice, Changbin!”

“That’s more like it!”

You laughed with the rest of them. This group felt more comfortable than you’d ever felt with your old friends, and you couldn’t help thinking that maybe moving in with Changbin, Bang Chan, and Jisung was meant to be.

[sixosix]

(not just a) one night something | itoshi sae

rumors spread, and your friendship with sae gets complicated enough to help you fix your problem

( ? ) itoshi sae x fem!reader

( ! ) probably ooc sae, supposed unrequited pining, time skips, meet again, failed date shenanigans, getting together, CHILDHOOD FRIENDS!!! this is so. terrible actually omfg.

“i think i like itoshi.”

kamiko pauses mid-lick on her popsicle as she follows where your eyes are intently focused: a nimble boy with pale brown-red hair, swerving a soccer ball around like it’s one with him, just another limb.

“sae-kun?” kamiko asks, brows furrowing. “aren’t you friends with him?”

“mhm.” you nod, watching him play with a bright smile. your view of his play isn’t hindered even from behind the fence.

the ball drifts past right in front of where you and kamiko are situated side-by-side on the grass; then, a gust of wind howls past and flaps your hair, and the culprit is in the form of itoshi sae, who looks as if he’s barely moving with how seamless he moves across the field of heaving boys.

there’s something entrancing about how he handles the ball—ruthless and decisive. in class, he’d just be sitting by himself, bored, while people flock around him like moths to a flame. but here, he’s thriving, nearly smiling if you know itoshi sae well enough. and you do.

even under where the sun is too high, and you’re feeling too warm in this light shirt, sae is untouched.

“he’s really cool,” you continue after a beat, and kamiko harrumphs.

“i like sae-kun, too,” she declares.

“oh,” you blink. you suppose best friends don’t have a free pass. “should we rock, paper, scissors it?”

you do rock, and she does scissors. you let out a little, woo! because you don’t get to win this often. rock, paper, scissors is always the easiest way to settle things.

“this is stupid!” kamiko fumes, her ears red from embarrassment.

you laugh, waving it off. “sorry, miko-chan. d’you want my candy as truce?”

kamiko pouts and takes it from you, still huffy and pouty.

when you turn back to watch the game, there’s a second where sae catches your eye, wiping sweat off his forehead. it spears into you, as sharp as how he sent the soccer ball straight in the net moments ago.

yells, cheers, the ball falls back onto the grass, sae quirks an eyebrow, waving once— victory—! your pulse jumps, and you barely have a moment to wave back.

blinking again, he’s already turning away, leaving you lost like you just lost a goal to him.

“hey,” kamiko nudges you, “you okay?”

you stare after sae’s back, heart racing. “it’s nothing,” you finally say, and kamiko’s brows are furrowed as she looks at you.

the day starts as usual, and it makes you feel off.

nothing seems out of place. your bed is exactly where it’s supposed to be; breakfast is your favorite, served precisely how you like it. you even arrived on time for class. nothing seems wrong, and it’s making you nervous because there’s a clawing feeling in your chest for no reason.

there seems to be nothing but clear skies, sunny with bright blue. birds singing, leaves fluttering and crunching under your feet, and the way to school is just smooth sailing. there is nothing out of place.

but the moment you step onto your classroom, everyone’s gazes cut into you. there’s a gleam in all of them, making you seize up, glancing around warily.

“what?” you ask defensively, scowling.

“hey, y/n-chan, is it true that you like sae?” one of your classmates asks, wearing a smile that spells out nothing but trouble.

“what…?” you stare at him, bewildered. “where did you get that?”

“from everyone, really. it was a hot topic earlier, didn’t you hear?”

it shouldn’t make you feel as shameful as it is, but the way everyone in the room is giggling and the way their eyes feel like they’re everywhere—in each corner of the room, on the floor, groping your body—makes you want to leave the room right and there, yet your feet are glued to the floor.

“you’re crushing on your friend? that’s so awkward!”

“way to ruin your friendship with someone like sae-kun…”

“haha! you think you have a chance, y/n?” someone else whispers from the sides. “that’s so brave of you.”

mortification boils in your stomach, and you feel it in the way your throat constricts, and your hands shake. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.” why do they care? do they have to stare this much?

“you’re so nervous!” she laughs, leering cruelly. “so it’s true!”

“leave me alone,” you snarl, fuming. with anger or humiliation? you don’t know.

all you know is that you only told one person about it, which can only mean one thing. you catch her eye, and at least, kamiko has the decency to look guilty.

you don’t know what went down earlier and what you did to make kamiko spill your confession, but what’s done is done, and there’s no use denying it when you’ve already lashed out.

you push past the students crowding around you and tune all their mocking sneers out, wishing the day would just end already.

you could get out right now, leave the room and pretend you were sick to not face any more of their suffocating scrutiny. but that is admitting defeat over petty gossip, and you will not have them winning over you just because of a stupid crush.

the door creaks open again, and the whispers increase with fervor and strength. a chair screeches against the tiles before it pauses, and suddenly everyone shuts up. you can feel someone’s stare drilling craters on the back of your head, but you don’t trust yourself to be able to look back, knowing who it is without even trying.

“y/n.”

you bury your face in your arms.

sae tries again. “who did this to you?”

“not now, itoshi. leave me alone.”

“stupid,” sae grumbles under his breath.

that day, when you shove past everyone and ignore kamiko and sae calling after you, is the day any affection towards sae is buried by disgust towards yourself.

your prayers are answered when news spreads out that sae is off to spain the next day.

it is sudden, despite his younger brother answering questions saying that yes, he’s already been planning to for a while; no, this is not sudden. and you know it, too, because sae told you about it before; you were just not expecting it to be this soon.

however, coincidence or not, you’re just relieved to know that you don’t have to embarrass yourself in front of your best friend ever again.

someone jokes that you scared him away, and you tell them that you’re grateful you did before you punch someone in front of him.

he never said goodbye.

whatever. he’s probably disgusted at you anyway.

(he becomes a star; you forget about itoshi sae for years.)

YEARS LATER.

“ahhh—finally!” kamiko wails, stretching her arms over her head at what looks to be a painful angle.

you groan, nearly losing balance and passing out on the floor, but unfortunately, kamiko is quick enough to tip you back. “ugh, that felt like ages. what if i just drop out? i could just do that now.”

“don’t,” kamiko laughs, patting your head lightly, pinky high and everything, “you’ll die worse than before if you give up now.”

you swat her hand away.

it took a while before you and kamiko got along again.

years, even. you think you still can’t accept her apology, but eventually, you got over your crush, people stopped talking about the incident, and your bitterness towards her left along with it. not like you could even try getting rid of her when she trails after you like a lost puppy, anyway.

so now here you are, in a reluctant friendship with kamiko, despite everything. it’s not worth losing a friendship over some boy, whether or not it’s itoshi sae.

so long as she knows what she did was wrong, she’s fine, you suppose. she hasn’t done anything else after that, so you let it be.

“you’re right. i can’t drop out when finals just ended,” you sigh, slumping. “i’ll do it when the next term starts so i don’t put myself through that again.”

“so dramatic,” kamiko giggles. “i’ll support whatever you do, okay?”

you roll your eyes, hip-checking her. “i know.”

like every poisoned teenager in the modern age, you reach for your phone and mindlessly scroll through as kamiko lists off her plans for the entire school break. something about flying out of the country for vacation, and you should consider coming. (the answer is no, obviously.)

“don’t hole yourself up in your room, y/n-chan!” kamiko scolds; it reminds you of a fretting mother hen. “that’s not healthy. we don’t get breaks often—have fun with it as much as you can.”

“okay,” you murmur, only half-heartedly listening in lieu of searching for a new series to binge over break. there’s nothing interesting. you scowl.

“hey, look,” kamiko remarks, tapping at your screen to pause at one article. “my feed has been all about soccer lately, too. i never even liked anything about sports!”

“weird,” you agree, but you don’t think too much about it. the familiar view of your neighborhood washes over your eyes, and you pause, . “hey, my stop is here. see you after break?”

kamiko pecks your cheek, “see you, then!”

you bid goodbyes, and the day should end just like that: on a high note, free from the shackles of student torture. when you reach your home, though, the weariness is overshadowed by sudden restlessness.

“ugh,” you say again because you already know what to do to cool off.

a school break is exactly what you need.

a school break should be spent at home, probably lying on the bed sleeping, and if not dozing off, then just lying somewhere with music blasting to muffle any thoughts in your head. it is meant to relax, waste time away, and regret it the next day because you never did anything you wanted to.

but the weather is still perfect; the setting sun isn’t smothered by gray clouds, nor is the wind sipping warmth off of your body. it’s not every day your mood matches the weather, so you get up, dress nice enough to not look like a zombie who had to take a math exam, and head out.

“stupid kamiko and her romanticized lifestyle,” you gripe, hugging your arms when your pace picks up speed. “’s starting to get to me, too.”

the theaters could be a good place to start, you muse, scanning the posters on the walls.

superhero action? eh. cheesy romcom? maybe not when you’re still reeling from finals. horror? might scare the stress away, sure, but the movie doesn’t look appealing.

you move to the next, when out of the blue, a body pushes up against you, almost shoving you to the screen.

“hey, back up a little, would you?” you hiss under your breath, spinning around to face a man that makes you pause for a moment out of surprise. he’s crowding behind you like he wants something, and he is suspiciously familiar—you just can’t put a finger on it.

he lifts an eyebrow. “you talking to me?”

your face scrunches, curiosity shattering instantly. “who else is there?”

“no.” the man shakes his head, staring right at you. “you talking to me like that?”

“okay, you don’t have to be a little—”

he scoffs, and that constipated, dead-inside face he’s making clicks puzzle to its empty slots.

that aggravating attitude, exuding confidence and arrogance with every word; two thick strands of hair framing the sides of his face, and that biting stare in green eyes—

“itoshi?” you blabber, dumbfounded.

you’re not sure why you didn’t recognize him instantly, but now that you are, you almost want to let your jaw hang open with how much he’s grown into his features, all spiky strands and soft skin.

the years have been treating him a little too well, it seems.

sae’s eyes sharpen at you before he quickly looks around, surveying the oblivious crowd—utterly unaware of japan’s golden boy cornering a helpless little you in front of a movie poster.

you follow his gaze and snort at his wary expression. “are you hiding from someone?”

sae’s gaze swivels back, and suddenly, your laughter dies down. “come watch the movie with me.”

you turn behind you, gazing at the poster featuring a boy jumping high up in the air, reaching for a ball, then back to itoshi sae, who looks like he’d rather bury himself on his bed than be here.

“we haven’t even seen each other for so long.”

sae looks at you with an expression that speaks: so?

“this is…” you slowly say, “a volleyball movie.”

again, with the look: and i care, because…?

you splutter, hands raised in defense. “well, isn’t soccer your whole shebang?”

“you like it,” he says, unblinking, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the poster, “we will watch it.”

“i didn’t even say anything about liking it—”

seemingly having enough of your stalling, he tugs on your wrist and leads you to where the movie you “chose” is showing. you keep talking in hopes of scaring him off to spain once again, but he seems determined to ignore you, and it’s not in the way you need at the moment.

since when did he even get tickets?

“at least take me to dinner first, jeez,” you grumble when he leads you to two seats in the far corner.

“it’s not like i’m asking you to sleep with me. and aren’t movies counted as dates?” sae counters easily, plopping down on the seat next to you, as if he didn’t just drag you into this just to hide from god knows who.

“okay, genius, answer me this: who are you even running from?”

sae isn’t the type to squirm, but the face he makes might as well be the closest you can get out of him. “i don’t want to do stupid photoshoots.”

although your friendship with sae felt mostly one-sided because of how inexpressive he is, you’re glad you can read him more easily than anyone else. it makes you feel giddy, even if you know that he never explained why he didn’t say goodbye, and your last interaction was, to be frank, mortifying.

but right now, he isn’t saying anything about it. he isn’t even looking at you’re a pebble he kicked off the side of the road, like he usually does to everyone else. so this might be good—maybe sae actually has a heart in there, willing to spare you from embarrassment just to continue this friendship.

even when here, he’s a celebrity, and you’re just a childhood friend who had a crush on him.

you might have liked him because of that—a star the world can’t handle just yet in the body of one boy. he lets you stay by his side, even if you could never follow after him. he’s always there; if he’s not, he comes back somehow, a pull of gravity bringing you together.

with a long, dragged-out sigh at that thought and this situation, you lean against the headrest. “i’m on school break. i wish you just chose some pretty girl to drag into your undercover mission.”

“i did.”

you turn to face him with a grimace, but he’s looking right at you without a hint of amusement. just faint confusion, as if he’s wondering why you’re even wishing for something like that.

deciding to ignore his comment, you continue, “i feel like i’m about to get handcuffed the moment someone sees us together. not the best way to spend my break, itoshi.”

“you won’t,” sae huffs, and it almost sounds like a laugh. “just watch the damn movie.”

stunned at the slight upturn of his lips, you wordlessly watch the screen in front of you, but nothing about it is on your mind and is instead on the boy who you never thought you would see again.

(as always, even with blaring signs and butterflies in your stomach, you choose not to overthink it.)

“i can’t believe you sat through the entire movie,” you remark as soon as the credits roll, chuckling from disbelief.

sae usually leaves halfway through and doesn’t remember anything about it the moment he steps out. that is, if he even bothers watching in theaters in the first place. it’s soccer, soccer, soccer for him, and there is no hope in getting him out of it.

he faces you with a blank stare. “if you wanted to leave, you could’ve just told me.”

“and do that to you when you looked so captivated by a volleyball movie?” you snort, recalling the near-starstruck expression on his face you caught a glimpse of during the climax of the movie. “i’m no monster, itoshi.”

sae blinks, turning away with a scowl. “you were seeing things.”

you give him a helpless, fond smile and thank the heavens he doesn’t see it.

abruptly, he stands up and begins walking away, taking your hand along with it. his hand is warm, and your face is getting warmer, borderline hot, the more he continues doing literally anything.

for someone hiding from a photoshoot, he sure is roaming around with someone else in tow too freely.

“let’s eat dinner.”

“what? stop taking me hostage,” you whine, wriggling in his grip. onlookers give you glances before double-taking when their eyes catch a glimpse of an itoshi sae out in the wild. “i know you missed me and all, but if you keep dragging me everywhere, i’ll start screaming for help.”

“y/n,” he warns, with a slight glare.

you’re pretty sure your eyebrows reach your hairline hearing that from him. a pause, then: “you still remember my name.”

sae frowns. “what do you take me for?”

“an asshole.”

he shrugs and doesn’t deny it. “we were best friends.”

right, your gaze rips away from his, frowning at the floor. best friends. were best friends, ex-friend, classmate from years ago—that’s what you are to sae right now, and who are you to force yourself any more into his life again? look at how that ended up last time.

“actually,” you rip your wrist away from his grasp, trying to hide the hurt that is probably flashing across your face, “i don’t know if i want to eat dinner here, itoshi…”

sae’s frown deepens, but thankfully doesn’t push. “then, give me your number.”

“my number…?”

“you didn’t have a phone before i left,” he explains, with a hand patiently stretched out. “give me your number.”

you reluctantly grant him your phone to show the screen where a series of digits are displayed. dutifully, sae types it down on his own phone, which is probably the latest brand of the most expensive one you can think of.

“what is that for?” you ask, belatedly, once sae’s handed your phone back to you.

“you said you’re on school break. i’m taking you out tomorrow.”

“take me out?”

sae quirks a brow, amused. “are you complaining? didn’t you used to have a crush on me?”

you feel your face go up in flames, mortified. “had. had! that was ages ago. i don’t—”

of course. of course sae didn’t forget! he wouldn’t bring it up early to scare you off into spain, and now he’s cornered you right where he wants you. damn him!

sae tilts his head, inching closer, “you don’t?”

the whiff of his cologne and the dizzying proximity kills off the lies you were about to spew.

with a cough, you glower, “didn’t know you were so obsessed with me that you still remember something as stupid as that.”

he huffs a short laugh and lets you reel from assumptions by staying silent.

god, does he have to be so infuriating? you can almost feel your collar looming over your pulse the more those sharp green pierce straight right at where it hurts the most.

fuck.

this is the part where you realize that even after all this time, sae is still infuriatingly handsome. and even now that you’re mature and can tell right from wrong, you’re still attracted to him. gravity pulling, tugging right back into his palm.

(he is a star; how could you even think of forgetting about the same person you orbit around?)

you slam your hands on the counter, startling your friend into nearly dropping her phone straight onto the marble floor. “i like itoshi sae,” you declare, and recoil at saying that out loud.

kamiko perks up in confusion, blinking owlishly. “what?”

“i like itoshi sae,” you repeat, horrified. “again!” as if once wasn’t traumatizing enough.

she realizes she heard it right the first time and her jaw drops to the floor. “wait, how? what happened? what the hell did i miss? break just started yesterday—”

“he’s back in japan!” you weep, clutching your head with a grip strong enough to rip skin. “and i ran into him…?”

“is that a question or a statement?”

“shut up! he, like, roped me into watching a movie with him, and we spent the entire night together—”

“you had a one-night stand with itoshi sae?”

“not like that!” you shriek, heart bursting so wildly that blood rushes to your cheeks instantly. the implications of that are something you want to ignore. “i was just his… one-night girlfriend. except we didn’t do anything, it was barely even a date.” admitting it aloud makes you realize how stupid it sounds.

“y/n-chan!” kamiko gasps, eyes sparkling so bright you’d think she’s trying to blind you from excitement. she ambles over and grabs both of your hands. “y/n-chan, that is so incredibly stupid of you; you have to tell me everything that happened!”

“hey.” you frown, scandalized. “didn’t you like itoshi, too? and we fought over him through rock, paper, and scissors.”

kamiko’s eyes widen comically, slapping a hand over your mouth. “don’t say that!” she hisses, looking around as if you two aren’t the only ones in her kitchen. “my boyfriend might beat up your boyfriend before he even gets to be your boyfriend!”

the thought of kamiko’s spindly-built boyfriend fighting against soccer genius itoshi sae is a hilarious visual image.

“i’d like to see him try,” you laugh, pulling her hand away.

kamiko lifts one eyebrow, clearly wanting to point out that you didn’t deny anything about sae being your boyfriend. she pulls out her phone and starts researching, looking for any juicy information about japan’s golden boy. “i didn’t know itoshi-kun was back here. is that why my feed has been bombarded with soccer news?”

“i didn’t know either,” you wail, rolling your head to face heavenwards, ready to be taken in. “if i did, i never would’ve gotten out. i wouldn’t be in this mess, then. you’re leaving tomorrow, right? take me with you. i’ll start packing.”

kamiko shakes her head, drawing you back to her. “i’m sorry, y/n-chan. you have to face this like a real man!” with a free hand on your shoulder and fists pumping for effect.

you scowl. she’s betrayed you twice now. “weren’t you the one who wanted me to come!?”

kamiko turns back to her phone, curious. “hey, look. there was an interview earlier…”

sae texted you that same morning after that conversation with kamiko, telling you that he wanted to meet up and see you again. he said he still wanted to eat dinner and asked if you still didn’t want to, but after witnessing the car crash of an interview, you demand answers from him.

right now, though, you’re suddenly regretting not bringing a coat and scarf large enough to avoid any passerby glancing at you and wondering why you looked so familiar.

speaking of:

“hey, did you hear about itoshi’s interview?”

“what? what? itoshi the soccer kid?”

“yes! he said he’s seeing someone!”

“he can’t be! he hasn’t even met me yet!”

“was it the girl people saw with him last night?”

“wow, and here i thought his kind aren’t the type to be interested in romance…”

it’s that interview again. they haven’t stopped talking about it since the release. is that the easiest way to hook the entire population’s attention? stir romance and some celebrity in a pot, and suddenly, it’s pouring out money.

you want to muffle both your ears with your palms, but that would draw more unwanted attention, and you’re already running a bit late to your “date” with itoshi sae.

your heart is pounding. you want to get in there and hold it until it calms down.

“y/n.” a hand catches your arm, tugging you to a chest.

sae is holding you. “you almost ran past me.”

you blink, eyes round. “i was running?”

“from me, it almost seemed like,” he says, and pulls away only to take one good look at you. “you dressed up.”

“i did for you,” you nod, pleased, because you know he means that he thinks you look good. but no. first: “i might’ve been running because of that interview”

sae’s composed expression wavers, for a moment. he avoids your eye, glancing around with deeply furrowed brows. for anyone, he looks like he somehow got stomach cramps, but to you, this is easily translatable as sae being flustered.

“there is nothing to explain.”

“itoshi.” you grab him by the shoulders, heart racing and eyes wild. “you dragged me into a movie date last night. if it turns out you’re already in a relationship, i am going to kick your ass all the way to spain for playing with me—”

sae cups both of your cheeks in return. “i was talking about you, stupid. who else would be there? you think i’d look at anyone else?”

sae glowers at the ground when you try to meet his eyes, murmuring, “there are not a lot of things in japan that interest me. i have my own goals, but i am not immune to this. if you weren’t here, i wouldn’t bother staying— why are you crying?”

“itoshi!!!!” you hug him, sniffling. “i thought— i thought you left and didn’t care for me anymore! i thought i scared you off to spain when you heard about my massive crush on you!”

sae’s face is a mix of constipated and flabbergasted, but he doesn’t make any move to push you away. “what do you mean? you already knew about my feelings for you.”

“...when?” if sae confessed to you in any way, you definitely don’t remember anything, which means it never happened. if sae ever proclaimed his love for you, it’d be the only thing on your mind.

“we went on a date.” sae looks as confused as you are. “did you not know? it was obvious.”

“...what about your attitude made it obvious!?”

“you’re into my attitude.”

“shut up, itoshi.” you lightly hit his chest, overwhelmed by the flurry of emotions that keeps crashing over your soul, “promise me i’m not just a one-time thing?”

“never. you’re never just that.” much to your surprise, sae pulls you in by the waist and smiles. it’s small, barely visible, but it’s still there. “and it’s sae, dumbass. can we get on with the date now?”

“—another question, itoshi-kun,” the interview starts, sliding closer to the edge of her seat to inspect any of itoshi’s micro-expressions (not that she’d get any since sae can easily compose himself, and only those who can understand him well enough can look past that), “pictures from last night are spreading like wildfire! tell us, who were you with?”

sae doesn’t hesitate: “it’s none of your business.”

“hm, but you sure didn’t act that way when you let yourself be seen in public like that,” she says, and though her expression doesn’t give it away, she’s riling him up on purpose.

itoshi’s eyebrow twitches slightly. he looks impatient. “i’m not ashamed to be seen with her, so don’t fucking bother trying anything. what i have with her is out of your concern.”

“so, does that mean—”

“yes, i’m seeing someone,” he cuts her off smoothly, running thin, “and yes, who you saw is the one for me. are you going to keep asking questions unrelated to soccer? i’m going to leave.”

he does leave before the interview can even reply, checking his phone and typing:

sae

let’s meet again.

i want to see you.

a/n: just wanna say: i literally know NOTHING about this man and only based his characterization off of glimpses and scenes i saw from the manga (and for me to translate a soccer match to a romantic fic is torture). so the fact out of everyone in blue lock, a fic about sae has the highest word count is insanity. i need to balance it out with bachira and isagi fics asap.

[barcaluvv]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐷𝐴𝑌 »

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚓𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝.

You & Fermin have been together for four months now, to be exact it took you a lot of time to become a couple.

It's not because you didn't like eachother at first, he was just drastically shy.

Whenever you two interacted, his high profile cheeks went bright pink in a way you actually found it adorable, but he managed to talk it out cause he hated showing his soft side to anyone until he meet you, until he opened his heart to you.

It was a sunny day in Spain, the sky was emptied with just the sun peeking out seeking for literal attention from people inside their houses including you two.

Fermin was cutely sitting on the sofa-bed next to the TV, of course he was cuddled upon your body. The room was filled with hot wind and silent breathing atleast from you because Fermin did the quite opposite, i mean what to expect when you literally sat your whole body on his stomach he struggled to keep up but he wanted to be the tough guy so he just went with the flow instead of ruining your comfort, he truly loved you.

Fermin took a deep breath, and after a while he began to smile noticing that you were melting from the heat.

And so you laid there for a while until you told him that your bathing suits arrived this morning and you really wanted to show them to him.

Of course he couldn't refuse and he sat patiently and waited even though you expected him to be very jealous that you were going to wear it on the beach. He was indeed jealous but he had other ideas in mind.

"¿Te gustó este primero?" you asked him with your arms crossed.

"Es hermoso" he winked trying to hide his blush pulling you closer to him.

A few hours passed and you headed to the beach, you grabbed all the things you needed and you had no doubt that Fermín would make something of his own because you know him well enough to know that he is prepared for anything.

"Close your eyes okay?" said Fermin, smiling and fighting the urge not to giggle.

You did as he said even though you were very confused about the situation.

He led you slowly out of the car, followed your every step and made sure you didn't hurt yourself, even wanting to carry you out.

He took your hands away from your eyes with his gentle fingers and touch.

After you opened your eyes, you saw nothing but an empty beach? You expected a big crowd, but there was none.

"Look hermosa, now you can enjoy urself because I don't have to worry about others glancing at you."

You seriously hired the whole beach for me? You looked at him with desire and pure joy.

He picked you up in his arms, "Anything for you." he kisses your forehead cutely.

until the end of the day you bathed and layed together in the sun, you buried him in the sand, you built towers and laughed at his stupid but cute jokes.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 :) ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ɴᴏ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ~ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀsɪᴄ sᴛᴏʀʏ ^^

[at1nys-blog]

Nap time

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem!reader

Summary: it doesn’t seem but Zoro is very, very much considerate

Masterlist

Having a low social battery was not something meant for a pirate, but here you were, on a ship living adventures left and right.

Taking naps around the Thousand Sunny was always a quest itself: the girl’s dorm, even tho it was the best option in reality was the worst. Luffy will barge in full force and you would fall from your hammock; Nami’s studio was very not a nice option. Yes, the woman was silent all the times but Sanji was too loud for you, waking up and making you grumpy for the rest of the day; Chopper’s infirmary? To avoid after a huge battle; the deck? Too much chaos; the garden? Unless you wanted to burn under the sun, go ahead, if not, avoid.

The only place that was a safe place was the crow nest. That part of the ship was avoided from everyone thanks to being Zoro’s place to train and nap. Sanji wouldn’t come unless to inform food was ready; Luffy and Usopp had better stuff to do downstairs, you thought they even forgot about it sometimes; Brook and Franky would be too busy with their things; Jimbe, Nami and Robin knew better to not bother you.

After a hot shower, you were ready to go and relax to your new spot. Your body was aching to lay down and sleep, your muscles so relaxed that you didn’t know how you managed to get on top without falling.

Entering the small room you were happy it wasn’t a complete mess, but again it never was when you wanted to go there. This was something that always puzzled you. Knowing Zoro this was out of his character.

You shrugged it off, too tired to think too much about it.

Checking around you found a pile of towels on the desk and you were so glad about it. Taking one, you covered the pillow and after some seconds you were gone into dreamland.

Zoro knew your current position. He had been searching for you around the Thousand Sunny to ask you something, a stupid question to be honest.

“Ohi moss head, have you asked YN what she would like for dinner?” The swordsman only shook his head no, getting a death glare from the blonde pirate. “You forgot didn’t you? Ah I always have to do things myself” before the cook could leave the kitchen Zoro stopped him by gripping the collar of his white shirt.

“I didn’t forget. She is sleeping in the crow nest” he said with his stoic voice. “And honestly, don’t you know what she likes?” The tone was more teasing this time, exposing a sensitive nerve.

Zoro spent the rest of the day training and avoiding people to bother you: he would help out Nami with folding clothes; helping Chopper reorganize his set of new medicines; threaten Usopp and Luffy every time they tried to climb to the crow nest, all this untill he thought you had rested enough to survive dinner.

He climbed up easily, used to do it on a daily basis. Opening the door he tried to be as gently as possible, to not give you a scare. Even his steps are light, something he never imagined was possible for him, but yet, here he was. Walking on eggshells to not scare you.

“Y/N” it was a whisper even if he didn’t mean to, it just came out like that. “Are you still asleep?” You shifted position, still sleeping, he took it as a yes and was going to leave when he noticed you were going to fell anytime soon.

He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to wake you up, but he didn’t want you to fall either. He tried is best to move you closer to the wall, but he kinda failed.

“Is dinner ready?” You asked, half asleep. Zoro thought the world stoped for a second, he hated to feel this way when it was about you. He hated how much he cared for you. He hated… “I hope Sanji remembered to not put veggies in my plate” you said standing up.

The swordsman was just able to keep silent, what was he supposed to say? Was he supposed to tell you he remembered the cook what you liked or didn’t like? The man couldn’t say a word no matter how much he tried to.

“Have you recharged or I have to stop…”

“Is okay, don’t scare Luffy away.” You stoped him and left the room before he could ask you if you were sure. “Let’s go.” You added.

Zoro came back to reality after a while, he was not catching feelings, was he? He cares for you as much as he did for the others. Okay maybe he cared a little bit more il for you but just a tiny bit. Just a bit more, maybe. He shook away the thought, following you down on deck. He was totally making sure Luffy wouldn’t bother you too much, that was a fact.

[docholligay]

How did you get bit by a rattlesnake??? I want the story!!

It was a hot, sunny day up in Helena, Montana, and my girlfriend at the time--a cattle ranch kid with Young Leo good looks and a bad attitude that was only surpassed by my own--decided that we should go for a hike up in the nearby gulch. We called a couple of friends, packed some sandwiches and beers, and went on our way.

The hike itself was mostly a nondescript affair, in that I'd done it dozens of times. Just off of a bunch old digging sites from the gold days, down into some trees and then up along a rock ridge.

The ridge would be the problem, here.

I'm a decent person to hike with, a lot of the time, because I'm great at keeping bears away. I like to talk, and my voice carries, and I am in good enough shape that it takes something to wind me. So we're cresting the ridge, where we're going to sit and drink a beer, so I'm looking forward to it--a fair criticism of my hiking style is that I don't like to sit and look, I want to achieve the objective--and I'm talking along about some irrelevant bullshit, as I am wont to do.

Which means I don't hear the rattle. I hear my girlfriend.

"Doc! Don't move!"

Which I immediately disobey by whirling around to face her. At my ankle is a huge fucking rattlesnake. Before anything else can happen, it lashes out and digs both fangs into my calf, then dashes off into the grass.

Now, there's a certain calm in the worst that can happen just having happened. What the fuck else was going to happen, a grizzly come screaming out of the bushes? unlikely.

We're about four miles in, so the decision is made that because we're about an hour or more drive from the hospital, we had best try to keep me immobile. So between my girlfriend and her friend, they take turns packing me out of there like a goddamn mule.

Every few minutes, she's asking me, "You okay?"

"Minus the giant puncture in my calf, I feel fine"

About 2 hours later, we get our way to the truck, a 1980s Silverado with a grey side strip and flaking paint, and an hour after that, we get to the hospital. Now, having sat in the car for an hour gives people plenty of time to stop being tired, and start being worried, and my girlfriend has taken full advantage of this opportunity. There's no point in giving everyone an earful while you're all doing whatever it is you can--at least if all four of you are Montana kids, which we are--but the second we get the truck parked, she throws me onto her back and runs into the emergency room.

I can only imagine what it must have looked like from the inside of that waiting room, some butch dyke in a rolled-sleeve western shirt piggybacking a twin braided redhead with burnt shoulders and short shorts, like some kinda goddamned redneck rodeo.

And she comes in yelling, "My girlfriend's been snakebit!"

Well, after some conversation with the doctor and more than a little snickering from the nurses, I get asked if I'm doing okay. I tell the doctor same as I told her: Other than a pretty annoying puncture wound I feel fine.

Burning? No.

Tingling? No.

Any kind of blurred vision? Not at all.

So, come to find out, rattlesnakes aren't quite as stupid as you think, and half the time when they bite humans they don't envenomate, because they know they can't eat it. They don't tell you this, because they want you to come to the damn emergency room.

I walked out of there with a fancy-looking bandaid.

[nightynightghoul]

Pebble has POTS

How Pebble finds out they have POTS and sort of learn to accept it.

This is just a little something I wanted to share, if it does well I may share other ideas. Thank you to @sister-nyx for encouraging me and giving it a read :)

Warnings: Pebble faints, there's talk about medical tests, not much more.

When Pebble was summoned, the rest of the ghouls thought nothing special of it. Yes, they were smaller than the rest, but their summoning had been hard and not as much energy went into it as it did for the past ghouls. They all had seen ghouls of all sizes during their lives back in hell. Many of the smaller ones being doubly as fierce to compensate for their size. No one thought anything could be wrong with them. 

Neither did Pebble. At least not for their first few months topside. They learned what they had to in order to become their new drummer, they were good at it too. Enjoying the feeling of getting lost in the music alongside the rest of their new pack.

Pebble started noticing they weren’t like the rest of the ghouls. Not as strong, not as agile, not as resilient. The first time they felt it was when they were moving instruments around the practice room. They had to clear the floor for the siblings to come in for a deep clean. Ifrit had easily lifted and carried stands, amps, boxes, and instruments. Aether had no trouble helping Zephyr with their Keyboard. Hell, even Dewdrop was helping haul up equipment, and he was smaller than them!

But here they were struggling to catch their breath and feeling their heart in their throat just because they were trying to drag one box across the stage. Emphasis on the word “trying”. By the time Ifrit was done, Pebble was only just getting the damned box to where they were supposed to stack it with the others. The fire ghoul just smiled at them and lifted the box to stack in on the others. 

Pebble could not catch their breath and their vision was spotty. But they just ignored it, muttered a thank you and went back to the den. 

The second time, was stupid if you asked them. It was a very early and cold morning, they just wanted to have a nice hot shower before breakfast. Yes, they took longer than usual. The water felt great, they had to wash their hair, and maybe they wanted some time for themselves. The problem appeared when they stepped out into the colder air of the bathroom. As they were drying off, they started feeling like they ran a marathon. Heart beating quickly, spotty vision, and they couldn’t catch their breath. Nothing new, but it was getting worse. 

A splitting headache started right behind their ears and their vision became tunnelled. Suddenly the effort to just stand was just too much and against their will they crumpled to the floor half conscious, dragging with them several items from the counter that clattered loudly on the floor and on top of them. They spent a few minutes on the floor, floating in that space between. After getting ready, only Aether asked why they took so long. Even years later, they could not tell if they fainted that time or not. 

The third time was when they started to get worried. It was a sunny, warm day, fairly humid too. Most of the ghouls were spending their time outside. Even Zephyr felt well enough to go on a little stroll with Dew. They were sat on the grass with Omega and Alpha. Playful chatter, became playful banter which in a few minutes became playfighting. Pebble wrestled Alpha but was quickly pinned under the bigger ghoul. 

But Pebble wasn’t laughing any more, the heat, the humidity, the exertion and now Alpha on top of them had their vision swimming. Just like before they felt that headache, the tunneled vision and the breathlessness. But this time it all came so quick, they had no time to tell Alpha that they wanted out. With a pathetic whine they breathed out and then everything became black. 

When they next opened their eyes, they were laying on their back. Omega was looking at them alarmed, as if they had grown a second head. Alpha was agitated too, the usually stoic ghoul looked close to tears. Omega insisted on carrying them to the infirmary even as Pebble protested that they were fine and could walk themselves.

While in there, Omega took his sweet time noting their blood pressure and heartbeat. Pebble insisted time and time again that this was normal, that it just had gone a little further than it usually does. Omega made quite a few notes and kept asking more questions. As if every ghoul didn’t feel the same as them. -

Do you have a hard time breathing?

Do you usually struggle to catch your breath after exerting yourself?

Are high temperatures usually a problem?

Do you get dizzy when you sit up? When you stand up?

Pebble quickly became frustrated and ended up leaving the infirmary before Omega could finish his long list of questions or tell them much of anything really.

The quint did ask them to come back for some tests the next day but Pebble in their eternal stubbornness didn’t go. They were fine, and this was normal for all ghouls. Right?

The subject was forgotten with time but right now, this very minute. They kinda wish they had gone for those extra tests with Omega. Maybe there was something wrong with them.

This was their third ritual, the past two had gone very well. Only getting somewhat dizzy with the heat of the stage lights and the effort of playing the drums. They had managed to stand up without fainting by taking deep breaths. But right now, in this damned venue and its non-existent ventilation, Pebble found themselves sweating bullets. Their skin felt clammy and cold, their breath getting quicker, same as their heartbeat. 

This was more than the adrenaline from rituals, Pebble was in trouble. 

By the last song of the set, their vision was becoming spotty, but they did their best to keep playing. If Dewdrop, Aether and Ifrit could jump around the stage and play at the same time, surely they could keep playing while sat down. 

The alarm bells really rang in their head when that last song ended. The crowd was cheering, and they cursed the damn mask for not letting them breathe properly. They had to stand up, go to the front with the others, go to their place for final bows. But just as they stood up, they realised just how bad they had let it become. The headache came in so hard they had to close their eyes and grasp their head. They may have been glamoured, but the loud whine they let out sounded like that of a wounded animal. 

They tried to walk down the steps of their stage, but their vision went all black and unlike that time after that hot shower, this time they crumpled to the floor like a wet napkin. Aether looked back at his stage as he saw several people in the crowd pointing behind him.

He saw Pebble, unconscious, sliding down the steps of their stage. He ran to catch the smaller ghoul before they could reach the bottom. Ifrit and Dew turned to look at Aether, confused as to why he would be heading backstage in a rush before final bows. Then rushed to help him as they saw him removing Pebble’s mask.

Papa grumbled his disapproval to Zephyr, but quickly changed his demeanour as Ifrit ran back to him. - Pebble is out cold, Aether is taking them back to the greenroom -. They bowed and quickly headed back.

When he opened the door to the green room, Papa found Pebble laying on the couch, Dewdrop holding their legs high and Aether sat on the floor taking vitals. The quint assured them all that Pebble would be fine, even if they had some nasty bruises from their fall. 

When Pebble woke up, they groaned and tried to sit up. But with a gentle hand on their chest, Aether kept them on their back. 

Don’t move just yet love. Your heartbeat just went through the roof.

M’fine

No, you’re not. You just passed out on stage, and I need to get Omega on the phone now.

Terzo fumbled with his robe to take his phone out and call the older ghoul. Pacing around the room while waiting for his lover to answer.

Terzo? 

Hi Amore, Aether needs to talk to you. Now.

Wait, aren’t you in the middle of a ritual right now?

No, just finished. But Pebble fainted.

What? Ok, let me talk to Aether please.

He handed his phone to the quint. Sitting by Pebble’s head, petting their head and around their horns. Hoping to comfort one of his smallest ghouls.

Aether immediately got to work, narrating all the important details to Omega. All Terzo could glean from what was said was that this was not the first time Pebble had fainted, and that more tests were needed to have an answer as to why they were passing out. 

The rest of that leg of the tour went surprisingly well. Pebble didn't faint, although there were a few close calls, but much to Pebble’s annoyance, Aether was on top of them, all the time. Just as they got back to the abbey, Omega practically kidnapped them and got them to the infirmary. 

A full week of tests got them their answer. There was something wrong and other ghouls definitely did not feel like this every day of their lives topside. Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Stupid Human thing to have. 

They walked back to their room after Omega was done with indications. There was nothing that could be done to get rid of the problem. They would always be smaller, lesser, defective. The feeling of being lesser invaded them. They’re supposed to be a demon straight from hell, strong, fast, agile. Not a runt that has to be watched over all the time. 

What made it truly worse was the news they were given before the next leg of the tour. They would be summoning another Earth ghoul, Omega and Terzo had decided touring would be too much on their body. Straight up salt in the wound. No only that, they would be training them in the time remaining.

Their out of control heart rate and quick breaths didn’t help at all when they asked for the decision to be reconsidered. Pebble walked back to their room, to calm down on their own, to mope for weeks and isolate from their pack. 

With time, they learn to live with it instead of against it. Accepting their body just as it was, flaws and all. It doesn’t come quick, and they still miss the little time they had with their Papa on stage. 

But yes, with time, the bitterness subsides. They still get frustrated sometimes, and some days are impossible. They still faint all over the abbey, but they’re fine at least.

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 4- Drunk Words, Are Sober Thoughts

Josh Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 6,384 

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the fourth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! Thank you so much for all the support on our last three chapters. Here is the taglist incase anyone wants to be added to it: TAGLIST. We hope you enjoy chapter 4, Drunk Words, Are Sober Thoughts.

Also get ready for smut because it doesn't end from here, only gets worse. LOL

Next chapter coming next Tuesday!

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTT, 69, Tit fondling, Fingering, Oral (F and M receiving), Angst, Flirting, Cursing, Hickeys, Nudes, Sexting.

y/n's POV

Your last class of the day, Music History, went by pretty fast. Coming to the University of Michigan, you were set on Musical theater being your major, but from listening to Charlotte talk about her major, elementary education, you fell in love with the idea of being a teacher. From there, you observed some music classrooms in your area and knew you had to make a change. You're now a Music Education Major and can’t wait to teach the youth all about your passion.

It's very sunny and warm today, which normally would have led to you picking out a tank top and shorts, but due to the marks all over your chest you opted for a black shirt with a higher neckline and black shorts paired together with your white Hokas. Although the sun felt good on your skin it wasn’t good for your hangover. 

Normally a loud upbeat song would be the way to go for after class, but due to the way you’ve been feeling, Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey was the smarter option. You were perfectly content in the moment but your music was suddenly brought to a halt as you felt your headphones being pulled down around your neck.. 

As you turn to see who it is, you meet the last person you’d want to see, Josh. But something was off, he seemed cocky.

“Hey mama, have a good time last night?”

What is he going on about?

“What?” You ask annoyed.

“Well you seemed to be having a loose night. I have a question, am I always on your mind or were those texts also ‘not meant for me’?”

What. What is he talking about? Your mouth opens to defend yourself, “ I- um, I don't… know what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll see you in there” leaning into your ear, “little cum slut.” He winks and slaps your ass making you jump. He starts walking away into the building.

Immediately, your hand goes to your pocket, opening your messages. Holy shit.

11:14pm y/n: God Josh, I can’t stop thinking about you 

11:30pm y/n: I hsd a dream about you, it was so hot.

11:31pm y/n: Fucking me from bwhind, you were calling me a cum slut. I wanna be your cum slut, Josh. 

11:54pm y/n: You shoudl come over.

11:55pm y/n: You're probably sleeping like a loser, come over Joshy.

 No way. There is actually no way. 

You begin to make your way towards the bench outside the building and reread the texts.

You could throw up. You did not recall sending a single one of those text messages. The first text, whatever, but the others… now he has the high ground on you. You can’t go to this practice. He probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. 

You would never care if you sent a drunk text to anyone else, but he’s different. How stupid could I be? 

No, you couldn’t let that douchebag win. You pick up your bag and your head, making your way into the building. 

You push past the doors, walking with a purpose. Once you get to the room you walk through the doors to see Josh staring at the doorway, as if he was waiting for you to walk in. As you make eye contact your eyes go to him, then to the raven haired girl, next to him. 

Wait, why is he talking to her. Josh would never be caught dead talking to “extras,” he's too good for that. So why is she an exception? 

JOSH’S POV

God will she ever stop talking. Sophia has nothing of worth to say to you. Normally, you wouldn’t talk to other people on the cast, they're not on your level. She's hot, not your normal type, but you’d do it at least once. 

y/n is putting on the act that she's chill, but nothing she’d say or do could convince you after seeing her reaction to the text she sent. You felt kinda bad, but it’s probably something she does a lot. 

“Alright everyone!” You hear Coleman scream obnoxiously. “y/n, Josh, I assume you guys worked something out?” 

You look at y/n and she's nodding with a big smile on her face, what is she so giddy for?

As everyone clears the stage you and y/n meet in the middle of it. “Okay so since you guys worked things out lets go from the Lay All Your Love On Me scene, got it? Not the speaking, straight to the singing.”

You look at y/n and once again she's smiling ear to ear. 

She has a pretty smile. It lights up the room, whether it's fake or not. 

You try your best to tune out your thoughts. You climb up your fake rock wall and the music begins and you count yourself in to start singing.

As you make your way down the steps y/n is looking at you with a certain type of eyes. 

Not of innocence, but of lust.

“Now everything is new. And all I’ve learned has overturned, I beg of youuuuu.” You sing, leaning in close to her, lips less than an inch apart.

She pushes you and your body slams hard against the wall behind you. You sensed real anger behind that one.

“Don’t go wasting your emotionnn, Lay all your love on meee.” She sings as her hands drag softly down your body, her nose touching yours.

Her vanilla perfume smells so good, it's intoxicating. 

As the scene goes on, she continues to mesmerize you. She begins kneeling to the ground, you mirror her. 

She crawls to you, her back arched, hips swaying side to side. Usually she’d wear a lower cut shirt, but assuming because of the hickeys, she wore something a little higher neck. You wish she had worn a v-neck. Her tits are perfect. 

“A grown-up woman should never fall so easily.”

She finally meets with you, leaving no room for innocence.

“I feel a kind of fear.” Her eyes fasten to yours. 

Her hands start at your chest once again, something she would have never done before. With every inch they trailed down, you expected her to stop, but she never did.

“When I don’t have you near.”

They make it to your waistband.

“Unsatisfied, I skip my pride.”

And caresses your already hard dick, leaving it for a moment.

“I beg you dearrr.”

You can’t hold back. Your hands go to her neck and push the hair off her shoulders and inch your mouth closer to her mouth, edging her as you both kneel in front of each other. 

You begin to sing. “Don’t go wasting your emotion.” You place one hand on her back, lifting her torso up into you, and press her into your chest, brushing her tits into you as you gently lay her to the ground. 

Leaving little space, you press down, pushing your dick onto her pelvis. You watch as her eyes widen a tad and a slight chuckle travels past your lips. 

“Lay all your love on meeee.” Your head bows down, closer to her ear as the extras begin to come in from the side stage.

Normally you’d go in for the kiss but you had something else up your sleeve. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard. I know you want me, you cum slut.” You quietly whisper in her ear.

The guys begin to grab you up off her and Coleman shouts. 

“STOP STOP!”

Everyone stops in fear, placing you back onto the floor, not knowing why she was so amped up.

“Holy shit, GUYS, that was PERFECT! The tension, the love, whatever you're doing keep it up.”

You lend y/n a hand to get her off the floor. As you pull her up, you continue to pull her in close, her ear meeting your lips. 

“I guess we have to keep practicing then.” You smirk at her, anxiously awaiting her response. 

“Then I guess I’ll see you tonight at your place?” She says with a wink. 

How can she be so confident after all that happened? It made her 100x sexier. But you knew you were going to have to walk the walk after talking so much game. You were going to rock her world tonight. 

As practice went on the room got hotter and hotter, and you could tell it was getting to y/n, along with everyone else practicing. She was getting uncomfortable in the shirt she was wearing, sweat beginning to form on her forehead. Next thing you know, she was pulling her shirt away from her body to try and let some air pass through, as she was getting more and more antsy. 

You turn away to grab your water, from being out of breath from the last scene, and as you turn back around you're met with a sight. y/n had taken her shirt off leaving her in nothing but her sports bra, her hickeys on full display. You could see Lindsey’s eyes widen and jaw drop. You begin to walk up to them, wanting to hear a piece of how y/n was going to defend herself. 

“Holy shit y/n, did you get attacked or something?” Lindsey asks sarcastically. 

y/n giggled, “No Lindsey I didn’t, just had a good weekend…”

“Did you now?” You begin to ask. “And who's the man of the week?”

“Doesn’t matter, it wasn’t all that exciting.” She looks at you with a smirk as she takes a sip of her water.

“What did you guys do?” Lindsey prods for more.

“Well, not all that much. We watched a movie and then he was getting touchy, which I didn’t mind. Then I straddled him and we made out and he was about to go down on me but someone walked in on us.”

“WHAT, that’s crazy! You have such an exciting life.” 

You roll your eyes at the statement. “Are you going to see him again?” You question her, as if you don’t already know who ‘mystery man’ is.

“I might Josh, but I hope he brings more to the table this time, or else I’m gonna have to call up my regular hookup.”

Your eyebrows raise, “You’ll have to keep us updated then, I guess.” You shoot her a devious smile, you watch as her cheeks reddened a tad. 

“Oh I will.” y/n says to you. 

Lindsey is staring at the both of you now, looking confused. “Am I missing something?”

“No Lindsey, Josh is just a nosy piece of shit.” She leans in to whisper to her. “Plus he probably gets no action so he likes to listen in on what happens in the bedroom.” Making sure you were still able to hear. 

Everyone disperses and we run a couple more scenes, before Coleman dismisses us. 

You look to find y/n packing up her stuff. When you spot her in the corner putting her shirt back on, you walk over to her with your bag. 

“Hey.” You ask innocently. 

“Hi Josh.” She waits for you to leave. “Do you need something?”

“Well I was going to see if I could walk you back to your dorm? It doesn’t make up for not walking you back the other night obviously. I feel bad though, sooo, can I?” You give her a dorky, little smile.

She smiles at you and thinks about it as you two make it towards the doors, opening it for her as she walks through. “Okay fine, but I have to stop at the campus store first to grab a celsius. I don’t want to be a drag tonight.” You look at her and smile. She looks back with a scared look. “Wait, do you not want me to come over? I thought you were being for real but if you're not I can just…”

“y/n, stop. I want you to come over. Calm down.” You pull out your sunglasses, the sun burning your eyes and skin, but you look over to y/n to see her uncomfortably squinting and covering her eyes with her hands. 

“You want these?” Handing her your sunglasses.

“No I’ll be okay, it's the consequences of my own drunken actions.” Realizing what she brought up she goes silent. 

“You know I didn’t mind those texts you sent.” You say opening the doors to the campus store.

“I’m sure you didn’t mind, but I’m the one who sent them.” She says as she makes her way back to the refrigerated section. 

“Were they true?” 

“Well yeah, I don’t think even drunk me would make up something as crazy as that.” She reaches in and grabs a kiwi guava celsius and makes her way up to the register.

“Is that your favorite flavor?” You ask her as you begin to reach into your pockets. 

“Oh for sure. I had a big 24 pack in my dorm but I kinda went through that already since the beginning of the semester.”

You thought about it, “It’s only been a little over a month.” She nods cutely and puts her celsius on the counter. 

“Just the celsius please.” 

“That’ll be $2.39.” She places her backpack on the floor to grab her wallet out, but before she could stand up you quickly tapped your card to the reader. You grab the celsius and look at her as she stands there confused.

“Okay let's go.” You smile at her and she awkwardly puts her bag back on and heads towards the door.

“You didn’t have to do that Josh.”

“I know, but I wanted to.” You open it and hand it to her.

She takes a sip and hands it back to you, “You wanna try it?” You look for a moment and think. “You can’t make the excuse that you're a germaphobe, you had your tongue down my throat.” 

You take it and take a small sip and a shock of flavors and bubbles wash over your tongue. 

“Ew, what the fuck. You drink this shit everyday?”

“WHAT, I love it. How can you not?” She grabs it back and takes another sip. Beginning to walk down the path to her dorm building.

“Do they hurt?”

“Does what hurt?” You take a look down to her chest, to where the hickeys would be if they weren’t covered. 

“Oh phh, no.” She laughs. “Not as nearly as bad as other times before, this one time this guy Mark he left um… um never mind.” She awkwardly laughs and looks down to the sidewalk. 

As she makes her way up the steps and swipes her card into the building she turns to you. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring him up. And I’ve been thinking about it and I respect what we have going on here, with practicing and well…a little more than that. So I'm not going to be talking and getting with other guys while this progresses. I want this to be like the real deal for the show, so I want to put in the effort for it.” 

She stands there for a moment, waiting for you to respond. “Okay, deal. I won’t be getting with anyone either.” She smiles at you holding the door open to the building. 

“Okay, cool. Um well I’ll see you tonight.” She smiles letting the door close behind her. 

She’s all yours. Well until the show is over. Which leaves you a month to make it happen for real. 

y/n’s POV

You walk into the living room, drop your bag onto the floor, and make your way into the bathroom. Your head had been pounding all day and you wanted to feel the best you could for tonight with Josh. 

You waltz over to the cabinet and rummage through the drawers for the ibuprofen. After swallowing them down with the sink water, you look up to yourself in the mirror. Jeez. You look like a mess. You have to get yourself ready before you head over to Josh’s. 

As you strip off your sweaty garments you look into the mirror and notice the soft purple marks scattered across your skin. You were kind of sad they were starting to fade, you liked being marked by him.

But you were happy that you were both able to reach a civil agreement, you weren’t best friends by any means, but you were kind of excited that you were each other's until the show was over. You liked the level of commitment you both had for each other.

You enter into the shower and put a lot of thought into everything you were doing. Making sure you got a good clean shave, shampooing your hair really well, and making sure your body was clean in preparation for tonight. 

As you get out of the shower, you dry yourself off and slip into your soft robe. And notice a text 

Josh 7:45pm: Come over around 9, don’t eat anything.

Hmm, you wonder what he has planned. You heart the text and begin to towel dry your hair and wonder what hairstyle you should do for tonight. You think about different times you've worn your hair a certain way and remember Josh giving you a little extra when your hair was down. 

You get out your blow out brush and plug it in and start sectioning your hair into pieces. You begin styling your hair and after about thirty minutes you finish. You really like the way it looks when you blow it out but sometimes you just don’t have the effort. You lotion up your body and then walk into your room and begin to pick out an outfit. 

While the shorts were great for last time, you wanted him to have to make more of a move this time. So you opt for a pair of navy blue leggings and a tight black athletic t-shirt, this time, opting for no bra on purpose. You take a seat at your vanity and begin with a dewy base, cream blush, black mascara, and lip gloss.

You make sure your gold necklace with your initial, that you never take off, is centered on your neck. Pairing it with your normal stack of earrings and apple watch. Finishing off with your spray deodorant and douse yourself in your coconut vanilla perfume. 

You check the time and it was 8:38. Which gives you plenty of time to get your things together and say bye to Charlotte. You walk to the kitchen and fill up your hot pink Stanley with ice and water and chug the rest of the Celsius from earlier. You quickly brush your teeth so you're all fresh and then make your way into the living room to grab your belt bag and say bye to Charlotte. 

“Are you going out y/n?” Charlotte asks while deep into her HayDay game play. 

“I am, I’m going to Josh’s again.” You look into the mirror to check your hair and makeup, fixing the lipgloss on your lips. 

“Again? Are you guys a thing or something?”

“It’s complicated.” You grimace at her.

“What! Complicated? With the same Josh Kiszka that you hated deeply a few months ago?” She raises her eyebrow at you, with a slight smirk on her face.

You shake your head and laugh. “Whatever, plus we both kinda agreed on being committed to each other, just for the role, until this is all over. Which I don’t mind.”

Charlotte smiles at you, “Okayyy, well you two have fun tonight.”

You smile back at her and blow a sweet kiss to her and pull your bag over your shoulders and grab your water bottle and head out the door.

“USE PROTECTION!” You hear from the crack of the door.

“Sure…” you mutter under your breath, closing the door, making sure it is locked behind you. 

y/n 8:58pm: omw

As you make your way to his apartment you reapply your lip gloss and fluff your hair to give it a lot of volume. 

It was a little chillier that night than you had expected, so the no bra decision was starting to seem like the wrong decision. As you begin to walk up the stairs to his apartment you try to warm up your body before you would have to knock on the door. 

Once you finally get to the door, you look down to see that warming yourself up didn’t help very much with hiding your hardened nipples. You knock on the door and wait for Josh to answer but hear shouting from behind the door. After a few seconds of waiting you’re met with Jake again at the door. Were they fighting for who was going to get the door? 

“Hey y/n”, you watch as Jake’s eyes flick down to your chest. You get a sudden surge of self consciousness and cross your arms over yourself.

“Hi Jake”, you shoot him a tight smile, slipping past him through the doorway. Your nipples graze over his chest as you walk by him. He smirks to you and looks down to your tits, obviously feeling them when you walked by.

“You know, once this whole ‘thing’ you guys have is over, I'm here waiting for you.” Quickly exiting out the door before anything else can be said. Leaving you left with Josh standing in the hallway. 

“What was he saying, y/n?” 

You thought about saying the truth but didn’t want to ruin the night. “Nothing just joking about being ‘safe’ tonight you know.” 

“Right… well, I have something in the living room for us.” Josh smiles to himself. He swiftly grabs your hand, leading you into the living room. Upon entering the room, you see two white bags sitting on the coffee table. “I got you a bagel from that little shop on main. I know you mentioned the everything bagel with lox so I got that, I hope it's okay.” You smile ear to ear and look at him and notice his cheeks blushing. 

You can’t help but hug him. He wasn’t the tallest person, but it was a nice difference for your 5 foot stature. 

“This is so sweet Josh, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know but we did really well today and I thought it was deserved. So what do you wanna do?”

“Do you wanna watch a show, have you ever seen Community?”

“No, as long as it's not a stupid ass show we can watch it.”

“Yay, I think you’ll like it. Could you plug my phone in somewhere, I think it's gonna die.”

He takes and brings it back to his room and comes back out to meet you in the living room.

As you take the seat that you were in not too long ago, Josh hands you your bagel. It looked so yummy, considering how hungry you were. He brings up Community on Netflix and starts the first episode letting it play while you guys eat your bagels. Throughout, he laughed a few times at the raunchy jokes made by the characters. You begin to feel far from him and want to make a move. You begin to nestle yourself in between his legs, leaning your back into his chest. As time went on he wrapped his arms around your torso, resting them on your stomach. By the 6th episode you were very comfortable, it felt like you had melted into each other. 

He began to release your arms that were tangled with his, one making its way down to your legs and the other wrapping around your tits. Your head tilts back to look at him, resting on his shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing, Joshy?”

“I’m just trying to make you feel good mama.” As he says that you feel a hand begin to pass under the waistband of your leggings. “Is this okay?” You nod frantically wanting it so incredibly bad. “Speak to me y/n, use your words.”

“Yes Josh.” You grab his hand moving it faster to your heat, slipping it past your underwear. 

“Patience y/n, you’ll get what you want. I’m gonna make you feel so good baby, you won't even remember the others.” As soon as he was done talking, his fingers started making fast circles around your clit and his left hand going under your shirt, squeezing your left tit. 

You started moaning uncontrollably. You wish you could have held it in, but he knew the spots to get you going. “Talk to me, Josh, Talk me through it.” His fingers teased your entrance, before they were forcefully plunged into you.

“Fuck, baby. You’re such a fucking slut. You feel so nice and wet around my fingers. Who’s got you this wet baby, huh? Tell me.” 

“You Josh, fuck, I’m all yours. Your fingers feel so good in my pussy. Are you gonna make me cum?” Your hands reach behind you and grip onto his hair for leverage. 

For a moment he stops, before lifting you up and carrying you to his bedroom. When you get there you’re gently laid down on your back on this navy blue comforter. He begins to peel the leggings off your legs and discard of your shirt, leaving you in only your black, lacy thong. You felt exposed, but Josh made you feel safe. 

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He begins to leave a trail of kisses down your body, making sure to kiss over the purple marks he made before, and leaving new ones down by your underwear before pulling those off too. 

“Look at that pretty pink pussy. All for me.” He says while letting his finger pass through your slick, examining how wet you are, before bringing it up to his mouth and tasting you. “God, I've been thinking about how you taste after our little interruption last time.” Without further warning he goes down in between your legs licking up your slit, getting a good taste. 

“Fuck Josh, please just do it. Eat me the fuck out.” You beg him.

“Patience sweetheart. You’ll get what you want.” He fuels your fire. 

He leaves more kisses and hickeys in between your legs, basically making contact with anything but your pussy. After a while of teasing you couldn’t take it any more. 

“Please Josh, I need you. Tongue fuck me. I need you so bad Josh.” You’re sick of his games, you are desperate at this point. 

“Are you always like this? A fucking slutty brat. Such a dirty little girl.” 

His face dives back down in between your thighs, immediately creating circles on your clit, causing your hand to go straight down to his hair. “FUCK Josh, don’t stop. Just like that.”

As he continues going down on you, your back arches, pushing his head in further. 

It was all so good, you were so close, it was all perfect. 

RING RING RING 

Your head shoot’s up along with Josh’s. It’s your phone. Oh fuck. Josh goes to grab it and it was the last person you could have wanted to call you. Mark. Fuck. 

“Um, just ignore it Josh, I don't know why he's…”

Before you can say more Josh answers. “Hello?” 

“Hi, who is this, I’m looking for y/n.”

“She's a little busy right now, isn't that right baby?” He says before placing the phone onto your chest and looking deep into your eyes beginning to press his fingers back into you. 

“Hi Mark, um yeah I’m a little, FUCK.” Josh curled his fingers hard and fast right into your g-spot. “Um, I can’t talk right now.”

Josh picks the phone back up, not missing a beat on your g-spot. “Yeahhhh sorry about that.”

“Okay um I’ll call back later I guess?” He asks, confused, you’re usually never busy.

“No you won’t.” He hangs up the phone and throws it to the ground.

He brings his full attention back to you. “Just so you know, you're mine. Only mine, not Marks, or whoever else you have in your phone, mine. Got it slut, tell me who you are.”

“I’m yours Josh only yours, I’m a slut for you.” He smiles, beginning to pick up the pace. He leans down kissing you passionately. You were so close to orgasm but you didn’t want to do it like this. 

“I’m so close Joshy, but this isn't how I wanna cum.” He stops, very confused on why you were making him stop. You begin to lift yourself off the bed and switch your positions letting him sit on the bed, and bring yourself in between his legs. 

“Take these off Josh, let me see what I’ve caused.” You lightly tug on the waistband of his shorts.

Josh stands up, pushing down the sweatshorts he had on from earlier. Releasing his cock, letting it slap against his abs. It was much different than it looked in the pictures. You spit into your hand and begin to pump up and down on him, just barely able to get your hand all the way around. You rub your thumb around his tip a few times, eliciting a moan from him. 

You could tell he wanted you to suck him off, but didn’t want to push you down. You looked up to him, “You want me to suck your dick Josh, gag on it while it's in my throat?”

“Fuck yes, y/n, please I need you.”

“Beg for it Josh, the same way you made me.” You whisper seductively into his ear, earning a shudder from him. 

“Please baby, I need you so bad, I wanna feel your mouth around my cock. You’ll feel so good, then I can make you feel so good, please mama. I fucking need it”.” 

With that you took as much of him into your mouth as you could, still having your hands wrapped around it pumping up and down, synchronized with your mouth. 

It was like an automatic response for his hands to go to your hair, yanking at the nice blowout you had, wrecking it with no remorse. But you didn’t mind, you wanted to make him feel good and to always remember how you made him feel.

You were starting to gag on his dick, but you weren’t gonna back down that easily. The watery feeling you knew all too well started in your eyes. Tears began trickling down your flushed cheeks, undoubtedly taking your mascara along with them. 

“You’re a mess, baby. I fucking love it. Such a dirty whore for me.” 

You took him out of your mouth for a moment, trying to get a little air, continuing to pump him with your hand. He looks down to you, wiping a tear from your face. “You’re so fucking sexy, y/n.” 

“Get up.” You say forcefully.

“What?” He shoots you a confused look, brows furrowing. 

“I said get up. Lay in the middle of the bed.”

Without any further questioning Josh moved back so he was at the center of the bed. You begin to climb on top of him and turn so your pussy was hovering above his face. 

“Are you gonna finish the job Josh?” Before you could respond he pulled you down onto his face, leaving little to no room for air. It was time for you to finish the job for him, as well. 

You leaned down taking him into your mouth again, knowing it can’t be too long until he's gonna cum. The feeling beneath you though was becoming a distraction for what you had to do. You were moaning onto his cock, which led to vibrations that you knew would make him moan back. It was becoming a match of who would cum first. Both of you were so close to finishing, you were beginning to meet your climax. 

“I’m gonna cum y/n, move your mouth.”

Does he not know who you are?

“y/n, move your fucking mouth,” he repeats.

You bob your head faster and faster before you feel warm fluid hit the back of your throat. 

“Oh fuck baby, you’re so fucking hot sucking up my cum.” He wasn’t going to waste anymore time. You sucked up the rest of him before swallowing it. You lifted your body up, bracing yourself on the bed beneath you. Josh’s tongue began to pick up the pace, his hands digging into your hips, and you were really feeling it. 

“FUCK, Im gonna cum Josh don’t stop please.”

Within seconds you felt a wash of pleasure all over your body, riding out the high on his face. 

You pull yourself off him and lay beside him. He’s  silent for a moment before turning and looking at you.

“You’re a fucking slut you know that? God damn.” His hand trails gently along your thigh.

You smile thinking about, “Yeah I know, this slut made you cum though, hard.”

He rolls over kissing you hard, threading his hand through your hair.

“Do you wanna, uh, stay the night?”

You thought about it. Your first class wasn’t until 12 anyways. Plus you could always go back to your room beforehand. 

“I mean if you really want me to. I don’t want to intrude or anything.”

“I do, I really do. You’re not intruding at all. Plus, I wouldn’t want you to have to walk back after all of that.”

You smile before getting up to look at yourself in the mirror in his room. Holy shit. You looked like a mess. Your hair was absolutely destroyed, knotted and messy. Makeup was smeared all over your face and mascara was trailed all down your cheeks. Your skin is bruised with fresh hickeys. You were a nightmare. Mirror mirror on the wall who’s the sluttiest of them all. You. Definitely you.

“How could you look at me, I look insane Josh.” You begin to walk back over to the bed.

“What are you talking about, you look so fucking hot. I thought I mentioned that many times.” You both laughed before he got up. 

“Do you need something to sleep in?”

“Yeah that would be good, do you just have a shirt and shorts, or even boxers? I don't really care.

He nods before picking out some blue gingham boxers and an oversized Michigan t-shirt. You slip them over your body and make your way to the bathroom before freshening up. 

You quickly wash your face off with some warm water and try to brush down your hair as much as possible. When you come back out and make your way back into his room he isn’t there. 

“I'm in the kitchen y/n.” You turn your head and walk down the hallway and to the right into the very small kitchen where Josh got two glasses of water, handing one to you. 

“You know with how well you did tonight I would have thought you were a whore yourself, or is that something you like to keep to yourself?” You look down to check your watch. 11:48, not too late but you were definitely getting sleepy after all of that.

He laughs making his way back to the living room sitting down long ways on the couch, where he once was. Not knowing where he wanted you to sit, you took the safe choice and sat down next to his feet.

“I mean I’ve had my fair share, but nothing crazy.” You take a sip of his water before placing it on the end table and grabbing the remote to click “Continue Playing” on the TV. He turned around and grabbed the blanket that was across the back of the couch. 

“Are you scared of me or something, after all of that? If anything I should be scared of you.” You laughed and laid your head in his chest. He flung the blanket up so it was on top of both of you.

“What time do you have to be up tomorrow?” You asked. 

“Well I have a class at 11 so I have an alarm set for 10.”

“Okay, I’ll just wake up when you do so I can go back to my room and get ready for class. I’ll be right back. I'm just gonna text my roommate that I won’t be back.” 

He nods, picking up the blanket to let you go pass. You quickly scurry back to his room and just let Charlotte know that you’d be back tomorrow morning to walk with her to your class that you have together. 

As you leave the hallways you’re met in the middle with someone you hadn’t seen all night, Jake. You didn’t even hear the door open. 

He looks at you, noticing the shirt you had on, making his eyebrows go up. You begin to go around him before you are stopped. “You could do better, I’ll be here when you're ready for the treatment you deserve.” He whispers. You stare at him for a moment before making your way back into the living room. 

Josh is laughing at whatever just happened on the show and he happily lifts the blanket for you to get back under. 

“You could do better, I’ll be here when you're ready for the treatment you deserve.”

What is up with these Kiszka men? You brush off what Jake had said to you, remembering that as if now you’re Josh’s. As you watch the show you begin to doze off. Your eyes closed and had to force them to stay open, and Josh playing with your hair was making it harder. You decided that it was definitely time to just call it quits and sleep. You lift your head to Josh who was intently watching the screen. How is he not tired? 

“Goodnight Josh, thank you for tonight.” You press a kiss onto his lips. You could feel a smile forming beneath yours. 

“Night y/n, I’m glad you had a good night. Sleep well mama.” Pressing one final kiss into your head. 

With that you were out like a light, sleeping the best you had in a while. Dreaming about the night you had and the future that will come.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @mar-rein12 @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of July. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Louis' Wish / Harry's Daydream | Mature | 1987words

Louis and Harry are best friends. Louis is in love with Harry. Harry is in love with Louis. Neither of them knows it. What will happen if Harry catches Louis masturbating and screaming his name? Come and find out

2) It Was Worth The Wait, I Think You Deserve A Taste | Explicit | 1945 words

Louis wants to be fucked but Harry has something else planned for him.

3) To Walk Out of My Life | Mature | 1981 words

This time it was Niall and his stupid group chats that had gotten them in this situation. Harry and Louis have had a multitude of "one last times," they always end up the same, two men panting on the bed using their bodies to convey the words they'd never say.

4) A Messy Show | Explicit | 2,094 words

“Need you now, yeah. Bathroom?” Harry reached into his pocket and shook his head. “Nah. Niall has a girl in there. And Ed’s with someone in our room. And-,” “I get the picture,” Louis said, glaring up at Harry and palming his dick. “You have room here,” Luke said, causing them to both snap their heads his way. He gestured at the people lazying around their living room. “What? It’s your space. Besides, everyone is so high if anyone notices, they won’t care. Or they’ll find it hot and watch. Like me.” Harry combed a hand down his face, and when Louis squeezed his dick, he made the decision for them both. “Sure. Lou, take off your pants.”

5) Can't Believe You | Explicit | 2096 words

Barricade has always been hot to watch. Seeing the fans grab and caress Louis as if they own him. But this barricade went a little too far. “Ripping his entire fucking shirt,” Harry mumbles angrily to himself, bringing up the messages with a certain ginger. 

6) Doctor | Mature | 2378 words

Harry and Louis are best friends that like each other but are too afraid to say anything. Harry is an ER doctor and one day Louis has to go to the ER because he couldn't pull out the sex toy that he was using to get off as he thought about Harry. What happens when Harry is his doctor? Maybe it will turn out better than Louis thought.

7) Except It Wasn’t | Explicit | 5469 words

It was a normal day, except that it was their five-year bonding anniversary. It was a normal day, except that they were going to finally start trying for pups. It was a normal day, except something awful happened to Louis. It was a normal day, except it wasn’t.

8) On That Note | Explicit | 6237 words

Louis’ office job on an omega only floor would be absolutely fine, if not for the alphas he and his friends have to deal with in the building. But although they’ve never met face to face, the friendly notes sent between him and Harry in Purchasing help him get through the day.

9) Your Right Now, Your Forever, Your Last Call, Your Whatever | Mature | 6361 words

“We should kiss.” So they kiss.

10) It’s Only Sunny Cause The Planet’s Dying | Explicit | 13643 words

The man leans back in his chair and looks down at the tarot cards in front of him. “Wow, that was really impressive. How long did it take you to memorize all this bullshit?” He raises a brow and that challenging look is back on his face, but he’s not even bothering to mask it this time. It makes Louis’ blood run cold. “I beg your pardon?” The man chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “If you take a peek in my wallet that you just stole, you’ll see there’s a detective’s badge in there. Why don’t you come on down to the police station with me and you can explain your methods to me there?”

11) The Boy In The Café | Mature | 14624 words

Where Harry serves Louis his morning tea while writing him silly jokes and dropping his Number there too.

12) This Could Either Break My Heart, Or Bring It Back To Life | Not Rated | 18349 words

Harry never really cared for love: he has two children he needs to care for, and a Country to rule. Love is just not in his cards. Enter Louis, who spins his children's lives but most importantly Harry's.

13) Blue Moon | General Audiances |20351 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

What happens when Louis moves away from the busy city life to a small village in the middle of nowhere and meets Harry, the sweetest and most understanding Alpha? Will Harry be able to get Louis' walls down? Will he be able to adjust to the slower pace of life in the village and open up to Harry's love? As they navigate their new relationship, will they be able to overcome the obstacles from Louis’ past?

14) Not Safe For Work | Explicit | 23295 words

I want to drown myself in Harry’s scent until I smell like him. “I think I'm open to trying that too. Sounds very good.” Louis shakes his head a little to get out of the Harry’s-scent-spiral. “Huh?” “The dish your finger's pointing at. I thought that might be what you’re choosing?” “Oh. Yeah.”

15) 'Cause I Want You (For The Worse And For The Better) | Not Rated | 26375 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

16) Deep Sea, Baby | Explicit | 28170 words

“Bunny, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” And just with that, Louis knew he wasn’t kidnapped or being pranked. He really was in his personal hell where the ex-love of his life still cared for him enough to make him breakfast, call him pet names and worry about him. And let’s not forget the part where his best friend apparently  was no longer his friend. “I’m…” ‘You’re what??’ He thought. He couldn’t tell his mother he didn’t have any idea how he went from having a nice apartment in Hampstead to wake up in a “Didn’t Know I was Fucking Married and had a Distasteful Taste in Sheets.” episode. She was just going to worry and think he just lost his marbles. No one would believe him—to be frank, he wouldn’t believe himself either.

17) The Property Girl | Explicit | 31428 words

"YOU'RE THE PROPERTY GIRL!" Property what?!

18) Home Calls The Heart | Mature | 44091 words

A series of unfortunate events lands Louis Tomlinson in the heart of Texas. After running from his life in London and a performative marriage, he leaves a scandal in his wake. Home calls the heart, as his Nana always said. Though her words couldn't be truer when he decides to take up her offer to watch over Hyacinth ranch while she travels abroad. He figured the worst he'd have to deal with would be the meddlesome goats, some repairs and an errant spirit or two. That is, until the gorgeous Cowboy next door makes his presence known.

19) Men of Steel, Men of Power | Explicit | 58849 words

“You’ve been watching me,” Styles said. Louis swallowed around nothing. He tried for light. “You’re the newest addition, people are bound to be curious,” he said. “Sure,” said Styles, in a somewhat condescending tone. “I’m not that daft, I do notice the curiosity regarding my clothes. That’s not what you’re doing though, hm?” Styles’ gaze was intense, and Louis could feel it burn on the side of his face, but kept his eyes stubbornly on the coffee cup. “I,” he said, licked his lips. Took a deep breath, tried to look open, confident, dominant. Alpha.

20) The Habit I Can't Break | Explicit | 63140 words

While searching for a healthy alternative to fill the void that one habit left, Louis gets hooked on something and someone totally different. This new experience pushes him way out of his comfort zone, making Louis realize he’s capable of so much more than he could’ve ever imagined.

21) King Of My Heart | Explicit | 83712 words

Harry shrugged, his shoulders brushing against Louis’. “I think since I was young, I craved that feeling, though. I didn’t always hate being a prince, but over time, certain aspects of it just bothered me so much. I remember being four years old and realizing that every person in the world knew my name, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted that. I told my mum as much and she tried telling me that being a prince is not a punishment. That it was a privilege that I should be happy about it, but no one asked me if I was. But looking up at the sky, I remember that all of this will one day mean nothing, and neither will I. All the pressure will then disappear and I could just be.” Louis stayed quiet, allowing Harry the space to open up because he knew Harry wasn’t looking for advice, but just someone to confide in. What he wished he could tell him was that in the short amount of time that he’d known the prince, in Louis’ eyes, he couldn’t be insignificant if he tried. He was brighter than every star up there in the sky. He was all Louis could look at and think about.

22) Wind Beneath My Wings | Explicit | 93131 words

“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry gritted out, wild-eyed. “You should be scared of me.” Louis opened his mouth to speak, to cut him off, to disagree, but Harry was pushing. “I could hurt you.” “You won’t hurt me,” Louis said, simple and assuredly. Calm. “I’m capable of hurting you.” “But you won’t. That’s not who you are, Harry. I trust you,” Louis whispered. As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[thisisperverse]

Aand that's a wrap on our summer of 69 challenge ⛱️ Some cool facts about it:

20 fanworks

1 fanart

19 fics

20 authors/artists

4 WIPs so even more fun to come

thousands of km/miles traveled

including 4 trips to Marbella (i wonder why)

countless cocktails 🍹

so much love!

and coolest fact: 100k+ words written total! If you want to know what they were all about, check the fics and their summaries below.

Want to join the fun? Find us at discord.gg/royjamie.

Play Like A Tartt by hopefulromance, jackhowad (T)

Jamie is sick and tired of homophobia in football and decides he can do something about it

sunshine warm, moonlight soft by asphodellic (E)

If asked, Roy will insist it’s the heat that drives him back into the house and not the way the sunlight is sinking into Jamie’s stupid floppy hair and glistening off his sweat slicked muscles. He’s Roy fucking Kent, and he’s never run away from a hot person in his life. If he was in his prime, he would already have Jamie bent in half in his bed upstairs, one hand over his mouth while he takes him apart, and that would be that.

Are We There Yet? by ABubblingCandle (G)

Train strikes derail Jamie's summer plans so he has to find another way to travel the length of the country. Good thing he has a coach that loves him so much and will drop everything to drive him on a 4 hour each way round trip ... what do you mean Roy said no?

swelter/shake by farewllyouth (E)

Roy approaches with a glass in each hand, slips off his slides and lowers himself to the edge of the pool. His feet dangle in the cool water as Jamie takes his drink, fingertips brushing. They don’t speak, sipping their drinks under the canopy stretched over the pool. Jamie finishes first, because Roy gave him a straw and too much ice, and his patience is in shorter supply. The sound of the distant waves off the beach reach them even through the trees surrounding the property. Roy leans back on his hands and takes a deep breath, head tilted back so he can get a good lungful of humid, salty sea air. “So you getting in, or what?”

be my summer boyfriend by BestDeadFriendsForever (E)

It’d been nine days since Roy landed in Marbella and it was somewhere around eleven when he limped out of his bedroom for a glass of water, his mouth cottony and head aching slightly, to see Jamie fucking Tartt standing in the middle of the kitchen in an unbuttoned linen shirt and one of the tiniest pair of swim shorts that Roy had ever seen. He had on a pair of sunnies despite being inside- though the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entire back wall lessened the prickishness a little- and his hair was falling across his forehead in a soft wave. “The fuck’re you doing here?” Roy demanded, feeling awkward at only being in a pair of socks and his boxer-briefs.

Questionable Summer Fashion Choices by ABubblingCandle (G)

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Roy didn’t even know what to think about what he had just walked in on. He had existed in football changing rooms are all long as he could remember and so had stumbled upon everything you could ever think of stumbling upon in a changing room. But this complete and utter affront to his sensibilities was something brand new and a full different tier of stupid. “Oh, hey Roy,” Keeley chirped up from where she was reclined in the corner on her phone. “What the fuck is he wearing?” Roy turned to Keeley to try and get an answer through the giggles of the assembled greyhounds. They were only buckets of popcorn away from this being a real show. “Um it’s called a shirt Roy,” Jamie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he spun round.

A Camping Trip with Phoebe by garlic_salt_is_superior (G)

Roy and Jamie take Phoebe on a camping trip during the off-season

Will You Be My Plus One (Now and Forever?) by Rayvynheart (T)

Five plus weddings over the course of his barely 12 weeks off? He honestly didn’t even know he knew that many single people. This does present an issue, though. There’s no way Jamie Tartt can be seen at a wedding without a plus one. He’s got a reputation to maintain, after all. Not to mention that now that he’s barely drinking, trying to get through a whole wedding and reception without someone there to help distract him sounds like torture. How’s he supposed to find dates to every single one?   Hmmmm I wonder how Jamie Tartt is going to solve this dilemma???

Family Beach Day by luvsbitca (G)

“Papa,” Georgina said. “Why is Daddy in your phone as Grandad?” “We never should have taught you to read.” Gee giggled. “You’re so silly.” Just fun, simple, sweet family day at the beach fluff.

Good Night, Sleep Tight by maskedwolves (E)

“What’re you doing?” Jamie asks as he complies with Roy’s silent command and hoists himself up onto the quartz countertop. Roy takes in Jamie’s tired, naked form - eye lids only half open, shoulders slightly slumped, soft cock as sleepy as the rest of him –and wonders how this perfect human chose him to spend his life with. “Getting my tired husband washed up for bed.” “I can get myself ready,” Jamie says with a sleepy smile, amused at Roy taking care of him like this. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”

Like Sand At The Beach by luvsbitca (E)

Jamie took his chance, why not, why shouldn’t it be him, why couldn’t it be him. Why couldn’t he be the person Roy wanted? He caught the corner of Roy’s mouth; his lips dry against Roy’s. he pressed there for a just a moment or two but then pulled away, catching Roy’s eyes when they opened again. Jamie realised a beat later that Roy had closed his eyes…Jamie had kissed him, and the other man had closed his eyes, his heart started thumping. He licked at his bottom lip and then pressed forward and leaned in again, catching Roy’s bottom lip.   Jamie and Roy have sex in Marbella...that is all. They are in love too!

wonderstruck (blushing all the way home) by bizarrebedtimestories (E)

There's a small velvet box sitting on the table where his breakfast should be. Behind it, there's a man, familiar and very beautiful, smiling shyly at him. Roy doesn't have a clue what's going on. "Yes?" "This—" The man nudges the box forward with a few of his fingers. "—is for you." Roy pulls it towards him slowly, like someone preparing to diffuse a bomb. He hesitates, glancing up at the stranger once more before he tells himself to get over it, you fucking ninny! Roy opens the box. "Is this a fucking engagement ring?" Or the selkie!Jamie fic nobody asked for.

cruel summer (what doesn't kill me makes me want you more) by valdomarx (E)

Roy's knee is fucked, he's been dumped, and he's spending an awful lot of time on the couch. So he's doing great. It's just unfortunate that he can't turn on his TV without seeing Jamie fucking Tartt and his stupid reality show. And it's even more unfortunate that Jamie has his phone number. And for some reason, he keeps messaging him.

a body at rest by mixtapestar (E)

Roy shows Jamie how to relax on holiday.

only wanna be the one that i call baby by howdyrowdypartner (T)

“There’s a lot coming up,” Roy says, instead of all that. “With the manager position, and shit. I need some time to think about,” he gestures vaguely between them, “this.” Jamie nods, slowly, lips pursed together. “Alright,” he says again. Roy really hates that fucking word. “You ought to take a trip or something, Coach,” Jamie says, flopping back down onto the pillows, making no move to leave Roy’s bed despite the whole needing space thing. “Take a holiday before the season starts. Get your head on straight.” That - isn’t the worst idea Jamie’s ever had, really. --- Or, the seven days in which Roy loses his fucking mind, thanks to Jamie.

a carcass of a man, i belong inside his skin by NineWesternStars (M)

When he arrived, kicking up dust in his dark wine Aston, Jamie’s first thought was, this is what football’s greatest left for? He was decidedly unimpressed and told Roy as much, with one foot out of his luxury sports car and poised to drop into a forgotten pile of cowshit. Roy had given him a look of such loathing when Jamie used the bottom step of the farmhouse to scrape off his trainer. (Jamie is sent to Roy's farm for the summer, in hopes of becoming a better player.) ​

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you by nightcabret (T)

“Tartt! I know you’re in there and we’re going to be fucking late-” Roy cuts off right as Jamie swings open the door. He looks pissed, but Jamie watches as he takes him in, his eyes widening and mouth gaping in a way that would be downright comical if Jamie wasn’t currently channeling most of his focus into standing up straight. “Woah. You look like shit.” “That’s fucking rude.” Jamie scoffs, right as he loses the fight against keeping his balance and sways forward.

keep a place for me by soofyahn (E)

Jamie glances at his blood-stained hoodie and frowns. At least the last time he confessed his love, he was wearing a suit. Turns out how they're dressed doesn’t matter much, in the end. The two of 'em might as well be wearing shirts that say ‘I’m with stupid’. Five accidental dates, or: four times Jamie makes an effort to dress for the occasion, and one time he doesn’t put nearly enough thought into what he wears.

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 30 | Wing Fic

Blanket Nest | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,840 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Season/Series 08, Wingfic, Nesting, Angel Culture & Customs (Supernatural), Wing Grooming, Fluff, Light Angst, First Kiss, Grace-Soul Bonding (Supernatural), Interspecies Romance Summary: Dean sits on the bed and Castiel repositions to make room for him. Strong, careful fingers begin combing his plumage and he immediately fluffs up slightly in response, which is something he can’t control. Castiel has been refusing to acknowledge for years how strong their bond has become, and he ignored it further in purgatory because their lives were constantly under threat, but now… now, in the safety of the bunker, Dean’s new home, he’s losing the struggle to not finally address it.

Wet Hot American Hunter | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Mature Word Count: 3,055 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, First Time, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Rutting, Massage, Coming In Pants, POV Alternating Summary: Dean and Cas take a nice hike together on a sunny day. An unexpected development on their excursion results in some long-overdue changes to their relationship status. TL;DR: Cas's wings pop out, so Dean and Cas fuck a little.

Un-Simple Miracles | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,122 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season/Series 15, Heavy Angst, Castiel Out of the Empty (Supernatural), Winged Castiel (Supernatural), Suicidal Dean Winchester, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Miscommunication, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Animal Death, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: It’s so stupid. Dean doesn’t even fucking like dogs.

Fractis Alis | @unanimous-anonymous

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,669 Main Tags/Warnings: Wing Kink, Wing Grooming, Hurt/Comfort, First Time Confessions, Internalized Homophobia, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has Anger Issues, Pushy Bottoms, Loss of Virginity, Happy Ending, Post-Leviathans Summary: [This fic takes place after Leviathan!Cas when tensions are high and Cas's guilt is thick. Cas appears in Dean's motel room, injured after an altercation with the angels. Dean plays nursemaid.] “Uh, Cas,” Dean cleared his throat. "How come I can still see your wings? I usually never see them for more than a couple’a seconds at a time.” Dean peered over Cas’s shoulder, letting the washcloth lag over his collarbone as curiosity got the better of him. Cas took in a sharp breath and retreated just slightly from Dean’s proximity. “I seem to be having trouble stowing them away entirely. My apologies, they became slightly damaged in the altercation.” Dean furrowed his brow. “What do you mean, ‘entirely?’” “What you see is only their shadow; not their physical form. I keep them in a different plane of existence, but when they need tending to it becomes… more difficult to keep them hidden.” Cas’s body language was steely, as usual, and hard to read. “You mean what I’ve been seeing is just some heavenly jacked-up angel-juice projection? You have actual, physical wings, like with feathers and crap?” Dean raised his eyebrows in amazement, but Cas seemed tense.

Wish Upon a star | @malicmalic

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,000 Main Tags/Warnings: WingFic, BlanketForts, Nesting, FallenAngel Castiel, Angel/Human relationship, Human AU, meet cute Summary: Prompts: - wingfic (wing grooming is especially a bonus) - snow fort building OR blanket fort building after a day in the snow. basically: forts and comfort - nightmares and h/c - picnic (cloud watching, homemade food, etc etc) but honestly i’m not picky - as long as it’s destiel, i’ll devour it hahah Or the one where MalicMalic decided to write ALL the prompts.

Flight Back to You | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: General Word Count: 11,924 Main Tags/Warnings: Resurrection; Fallen Angels; Exes to Lovers (Dean and Cas); Supportive Sam; past minor character death; past Amelia Novak/Castiel; Castiel/Michael and Jimmy/Dean in a way but not really Summary: Dean's exhausted, wracked with strange dreams that bring back memories of a teenage fling he had years ago. While on the way to check out a potential case with his brother, his exhaustion catches up with him, nearly sending both him and Sam over a cliff's ledge. Luckily, a familiar face from Dean's past comes at the perfect moment to provide them shelter for the night. The thing is, as it turns out, they actually have a lot more history than Dean initially remembers. And all three of them apparently have a lot more feathers than Dean is comfortable with.

My Soul Whispers Your Name | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,933 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, winged Dean, wing kink, wing grooming, soul and grace bond, fluff, hand jobs, blow jobs, bunker, domestic, happy ending, mutual pining, jealous Castiel, protective Castiel, sweet Dean, getting together, hurt and comfort Summary: When Amara tells Dean that she will give him what he needs most, the last thing he's expecting is to sprout fucking wings and to be able to sense what his own soul — and heart — really want, making it impossible for him to ignore all the feelings he's been harboring for Cas over the years. It’s no shock that Dean’s soul is drawn to Cas like gravity and now that Dean can perceive Cas’ grace all the time, he’s constantly reminded how stupidly breathtaking it is. He had been a goner since the second he laid eyes on Cas, and this just seals the deal. Now that he’s stuck like this, he might as well pull his head out of his ass, give it a shot, and finally get what he always wanted.

Cupid in Love | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Retired Hunter Dean, Angel Castiel, Oil Gland Kink, Wingfic, Bottom Cas, Top Dean, Omega Cas, Alpha Dean, Happy Ending Summary: Castiel’s success rate for matching humans who stay together for the rest of their lives is the best among his kind. Enter Dean Winchester, an alpha who breaks up with the perfect match Castiel found for him not once, but twice. If he wants to save his reputation as a cupid, Castiel has no other choice than to go to Earth in order to find out what this alpha’s issues are. It is supposed to be a quick trip. But things don’t always go as planned…

We're Butter off Together | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 27,207 Main Tags/Warnings: Butter sculptures, Bed sharing, Magic, True love's kiss, Bed and breakfast Summary: Set immediately after the Season Five episode “The End” this canon-divergent story begins with Dean and Sam heading to the Wisconsin State Fair to check out a butter sculpture of an angel that sounds awfully similar to Castiel. Sure enough, when they arrive the incomplete sculpture looks a lot like Cas - enough so that the Winchesters call in the angel himself to help investigate it. Castiel, upon arrival, is mistaken as Dean’s partner - as in “life partner” - and they’re forced to share a room at a local B&B during the investigation. When Cas falls prey to the dark powers at work, Dean must confront his feelings in order to save Castiel.

Calming the Weather | @seidenapfel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 35,490 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post 15x18 – Despair, the finale never happened, Angel Dean Winchester, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Repressed Dean, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Dean Winchester in Denial About Sexuality, Dean Winchester Has Sexuality Realizations, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Kid Jack Kline, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester Wing Kink, Wing Kink, Mild Smut, Angel Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: Rescued from the Empty, Cas is fully human, and miserable. So, rather than acknowledge what happened in the dungeon, Dean searches for a way to change that. He finds it in a simple spell. The spell gives ordinary humans a limited dose of angelic powers. Too afraid it might harm Cas, Dean tests it on himself. But it backfires. Thanks to a piece of Grace bound to his soul, Dean wakes up fully powered, wings and all. With their roles reversed, it is up to Castiel to teach Dean how to wield angelic powers, and for Dean to share the peaks and lows of humanity with Castiel. Misconceptions come to light as they learn from each other. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing. In order to stop it, Dean not only has to get a hold on his emotions, but he must face a revelation about himself, one he had repressed all his life.

The Angel's Widower (WIP) | @pray4jensen

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 60,416 Main Tags/Warnings: top!cas, bottom!dean, soul bond, mating rituals, wing kink, enemies to lovers, s12 canon divergent, angst with a happy ending Summary: After Castiel dies, a portal to another world opens and obliterates the universe that Sam and Dean know. A world with new rules and new consequences, a world where humans live in camps enclosed by high walls to keep angels out, where angels will do anything and everything to seduce and lure humans away. Why and to where beyond the wall, no one knows. But then one night, on the other side of the wall, in the middle of a snowy blizzard and under the cover of darkness, an angel with beautiful black wings and a familiar face appears. His name is Castiel. And he asks Dean to go with him.

Dangerous Temptation | trenchcoat_paradigm (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 101,143 Main Tags/Warnings: Curse Breaking, Mutual Pining, Dreamsharing, dream walking, Castiel Gets Wings Back (Supernatural), Wing Kink, Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, Mutual Pining, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Smut Summary: “The fuck is that?” Dean grabbed his wrist before fingers could make contact with his forehead. The gold talisman swings wildly with the sudden and fierce motion from Castiel’s clutched fist. Dean’s posture slumped in discontent as green eyes met his stare. “Damnit, Cas.” -------- When a childhood fairy tale comes to life, Team Free Will 2.0 is left with the challenge of finding and destroying an enchanted talisman known as the ‘Crown of Luck’. A mystical medallion so powerful that it is said to grant the wearers' most deep-seated desire. But the boys know all too well from past experience how detrimental that can be. However, Castiel is oblivious to its true power, (even if it managed to fully reconstruct his wings) he already knows the one thing his heart truly desires is something he can never have. Dean thinks he’s going crazy, he’s always had a little crush on his best friend, a ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of thing. But with his head giving him ideas, dreams shared with his favourite angel (and with him flaunting those damn wings all the time!) it’s making his little infatuation harder to ignore.