#received an ask like 3 times in the span of two months to hug my characters and although the person was most likely a minor

[cinnamon-phrog]

I don't trust someone whose' never interacted with my art before to ask for art like c'mon

[itstheghostofmypast]

Focus

Idol Wooyoung x (F)Reader

Summary: It amazed him how he ended up with a brat, one that had the attention span of a toddler but the love as warm as the sun.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9K

Est. Read Time: 15 min

Warnings: None

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: Basically inspired by @edenesth being my platonic Woo <3- the urge to procrastinate was real strong last night.

“Put it away.”

Her ears picked up the irritated voice, turning her head she glanced at the man sitting on her bed, glasses on top of his head, chin in palm as he scrolled on his phone. Must’ve been talking to himself, turning back around she went back to doing what she was doing before she was rudely interrupted, eying the shoes, maybe she could get the red ones, they’d match the dress he got her recently, oh no, but then she’d limit the things she could wear them with, oh if she gets a black pair then- “HEY!”

“Don’t you have a final exam tomorrow???”

When did he come all the way here? He was standing right next to her, a hand on his hip, the other holding her phone above her head as he looked at the screen, “Seriously? Are we shopping right now?”

“What~” she whined, trying to reach for her phone but he pulled away, frowning at her before shoving the device in his pocket, “Woo, it's retail therapy!”

“No, it’s a distraction.” He huffed before walking over to her bed, “You told me to make sure you study, and I’ll do exactly that,” he flopped down on the comfortable space, sighing at the familiar scent engulfing his senses, calming him down, who knew his girlfriend had the same attention span as his baby brother, no wonder the two got along so well. Sure, on any other day, he would have been thrilled to see that, but not tonight, no, he had to follow the strict boyfriend code, the one where the guy makes sure his baby girl isn’t distracted and focuses on cramming for her final exam.

Craning her neck back, she pouted at him, only to receive an eye-roll causing her to huff, date an idol they said, it’ll be fun they said- if ‘they’ only knew how this idol who was forcing her to study instead of ‘lollygagging’ around, they’d know how dating an idol is NOT fun at all! With a huff she turned back around, wearing her headphones as she began to write once more. Truth be told she was glad he had taken her phone from her; she knew she would get distracted way too easily, especially when she was stressed and considering right now, she felt like the world was about to explode; even though retail therapy would have helped her calm down, it would have also wasted a great amount of time, the time she could have spent reading and making notes.

He glanced at her going back to work, smiling to himself before looking back at the messages in his group chat, the guys had decided to go out tonight, to eat, and he had too- that is until she had texted him last minute, asking him if he could come cover. He had been avoiding her for a week now, not because he didn’t like her, no, but because he knew she’d be easily distracted by him and would choose to spend time with him rather than studying- even though he knew his girl loved those A’s, she was just silly like that, wanting to conquer the world but also getting distracted by a butterfly. So, when he had received the text, “Hey…can you come over and make sure I study?”  He had turned to San and shown him the text, earning a snort from the taller man, who shrugged in response but gave him an assuring pat on the shoulder- good, that means no one would have issues with him suddenly bailing on them.

There was a moment of somewhat irritancy on his drive here, he was somewhat disappointed he was unable to relax with his friends after months of promotion, on the other hand, he was also disappointed in himself for even thinking of choosing downtime over helping out his lover. That irritancy had morphed into guilt when she had opened the door for him, instantly wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him close, thanking him for coming here on such short notice, glad that she could always count on him to be there for her. The guilt turned into a form of penitence when he saw the scattered books, papers, numerous highlighters and pens, along with several mugs (what he assumed was coffee) crammed all over her desk, amid the chaos was her laptop, trying to breathe in the mess. He had sat her down on her chair.

He told her to wait, proceeding to pick up the mugs, running to the kitchen to place them in the sink, running back to sorting the papers and books for her, in order of ‘what do you need next’, stacking the pens and highlighters neatly in a box and removing any other clutter that he could find, before pushing her swivel chair closer to the desk. This act had helped his guilt subside, though when he met her loving gaze, it had completely vanished, especially when she had reached up to press her lips against his cheek, mumbling, “I’m so lucky to have you in my life, Youngie~”

He truly felt like he was fortunate to have her in his life- at least that was what he had felt like two hours ago, with two hours gone she was left with three easy topics, ones she had done a million times, but did that mean that was enough of an excuse for her to get distracted? No. He had come to ensure she covered all topics regardless of their difficulty levels, and like a good, dutiful boyfriend he was going to do- “HEY! ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” He screeched, tossing his phone on the bed as he jumped off it, running to her as she fumbled with the laptop, closing the tab and blabbering out apologies.

“I cannot believe you!” exasperating he slammed his hand on the desk causing her to flinch, as he knelt to look at her, though she only averted her gaze as he huffed, “What’s the excuse this time, huh?”

“I uh…wanted to watch your scenes in the MV.”

“That’s it.” With that he marched out of the room, leaving her confused- oh shit, was he mad at her? She did call him here even though he had plans for the night, great, good-going girl, make sure your boyfriend dumps you tonight, the same boyfriend who took time out of his busy idol life, who chose to sacrifice his recreational time to babysit you because you have some form of attention deficit. Make sure you lose that one man who’s always been there for you-

“Now, if I see you do ANYTHING ELSE, I’ll take away all your devices for a week!” he dictated, entering the room and causing her train of inner turmoil to halt- is that a chair?

Dragging the chair next to hers he sat down and, turning to face her as she moved back a bit, only for him to place his hand on top of her head and gently turn it to the laptop, “I better not see you look away even for a second, you got me?” with that he crossed his arms over his chest and continued to stare at her, like a mama hen watching her chicks- god, this was giving preschool all over again.

“Are you really going to be staring at me the entire time I read?”

“Yes.”

“That’s creepy.”

“No, you wanting to watch me in an MV, rather than turning around to see me on your bed is creepy.”

“You looked cute!”

“GET TO WORK, SLACKER!”

“YES SIR!”

To be honest, it was odd how he was staring at her so intently, but it was also endearing, she felt so loved, so pampered, so spoiled- oh if Hongjoong were to find out about how Wooyoung often got a taste of his own antics, through his loving, adorable girlfriend, he’d probably pay her to do worse. Nonetheless, she had soon gotten used to him burning holes at the side of her head, she hadn’t even realized when he had moved closer, his fingers brushing against her skin causing her to jerk, eying him as she earned a sheepish apology, “Sorry…was trying to keep your hair out of your face.” See, it was little things like these that made her heart swell with joy and admiration, little details that he’d note and little acts of kindness that would spark joys of glee within her.

He was a pervert, God, he was such a pervert. This had all started off to annoy her, but the more he watched her work, the more difficult it became for him, he never knew he was this messed up in the head, he found it hot, he found it extremely hot, to have her so focused on something that was not him, so focused on finishing her work, so focused on making him proud- the thought of this doing it because he asked her to was such a turn on- Wooyoung you need help. 

Almost an hour later of watching her, playing with her pens and rearranging her notes, his phone rang and he sprang in joy, though he cleared his throat when she side-eyed him (of course he was glad someone was calling him, he'd been sitting here bored to death for an hour, only because he loved her endlessly), leaning closer he smacked a wet kiss against her warm, soft cheek, ignoring her when she slightly shoved him away.

"I'll be back in a second, be a good girl and don't get distracted."

A faint "I'm always a good girl", caught his ear as he walked out of the room, picking up the call, starting with an "I hate school" only to receive an earful from Hongjoong for 'distracting his own girlfriend' - the NERVE of this man! How dare he accuse him of such blasphemy! He was a good boy, and an even better boyfriend- so much so that he had spent almost 40 minutes arguing with him. Only realised how long it had taken when he ended the call.

Jogging back to the room he turned the corner and gasped- AGAIN!? What- was she sleeping? With a huff he walked over to her, ready to wake her up, hand pausing right above her shoulder when he realised that everything was neatly packed- oh, she had finished. Her laptop was turned off, her notes were stacked aside, her pens were in the case and all the checkpoints on her neon-bright sticky notes were marked off- his girl really did make him proud.

"Hey...let's get you to bed, yeah?" He felt her stir in her sleep, smiling when she refused to move, only helping him when he picked her up, her arms wrapping around his neck even though she was 'asleep'. What a brat! He looked down only to find her snuggling closer to him, she didn't pull away when he laid her down- only grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer as he chuckled, adjusting himself closer to her, he pulled the covers, feeling her move closer to him, as he placed his chin on top of her head, arms wrapping around her frame, almost asleep until he heard her mumble something against him.

"Hmm? Did you say something?"

There was silence for a moment before he heard a muffled sound, her warm breath tickling his neck as she mumbled,

"Gotta work Gotta make that money, make purse-"

 A cackle broke past his lips as he squeezed her closer, earning a giggle from her, as he began singing along to her mumbling, glad that if he had to end up with someone, it was a lovable, adorable brat like him;

"Got a fur coat, so I make it purr  Give 'em whiplash when they see me earn"

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @the-kpop-simp @mlysalt @spooo00oky @slaayysis

[indestinatus]

2024 IN WRITING

tagging: @television-overload @benditlikepress @hopeless-nostalgiac @loudlooks @slouchingprovocatively @mrsmungus @mondlersswiftie @zeevah-ninja @pokingacave @natalias @loismagic @atlolevad4ev @hundan and addi (who doesn't have a tumblr) <3

1. List of works published this year: 16 (wow?)

She -> the fic I wrote knowing Ziva was coming back and no one knew it yet omg it was incredible

I'll crawl home to her -> finally got the courage to write a reunion of sorts. Can't wait till they reunite again on screen in Paris

carve your name into my bedpost -> post-season 17 Tony asks Ziva out on a date

you're too sweet for me -> the beginning of my secret summer obsession

sorry for not winning you an arcade ring -> Tony asks Ziva to marry him

we’ve already done it in my head -> second secret summer fic of the year, basically a sex dream from Ziva haha

no other shade of blue -> Tiva angst in the spin-off!!!

and the birds will sing our song in halcyon -> sugary sweet fic of the year, eternal bliss for those two beloved characters

rudely barging in on a white veil occasion -> Tony and Ziva burst into a wedding and the rest is history (in the spin-off omg)

when you were mine in the dark -> read this, please. It is my best work ever. Follows what happened in Paris on 7x13

Miss Congeniality -> I will continue this when I finish writing the ones I plan to post before the spin-off airs (stay tuned)

Coming Soon -> I was so excited to write a trailer and then the trailer got leaked haha

maybe we got lost in translation -> the beginning of me writing in clues, the intrigue and mystery never ends

page fifty-seven -> sex

we should just kiss (like real people do) -> Tony kisses Ziva in a Christmas party under the mistletoe

I hope you see me in your dreams -> another heartbreaking tale of Tony seeing Ziva's ghost

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

when you were mine in the dark -> this is my favorite work of mine. I wrote it in a span of months, thinking about every bit of dialogue, action, emotion, and so on. So much research went into the source material and compiling different ideas of canonical events. God, I had so much fun. It's rare for me to be proud of something. I'm tremendously proud of this one.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Coming Soon -> will probably delete it someday haha I was just too excited and published this one in a daze

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

from my favorite, when you were mine in the dark:

“Ha-ha, David. It isn’t me who is so uncultured she doesn’t know Ratatouille.” “I know ratatouille.” She passes past him to climb the stairs to their hotel lobby. Sending him a side-eyed glance, Ziva looks over her shoulder, saying, “The dish, yes? It is delicious. Tomatoes, zucchini, and peppers—I make a tremendous one.” It’s true. “But what does it have to do with a cooking rat?” “A rat chef. Not a cooking rat.” “So, a chef that is a rat?” “More of a rat that is a chef. Y’know what? Don’t sweat on it.”  “You already did for both of us, yes?”  “Don’t blame me for needing a shower. It was an eight-hour flight.”  “Oh, believe me,” she says, holding her breath. “I know.”

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

again (I say this with such a rare pride) from my favorite when you were mine in the dark:

"WOW. Your ability to draw on the depth of emotion and intimacy between these characters and weave it into something so beautiful and comprehensive could be studied by academics. This was the perfect story to read on a beautiful autumn day, like a warm hug of words."

Thank you so much, @vexthejester, for such a kind review. Whenever I need the strength to dive into writing again, I reread your words. They have affected me more than anything. Thank you.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

November 2024 (aka the hardest month of medical residency; I almost didn't sleep, let alone write. But hooray to battling through it, I got out of it alive!!!)

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Writing about Somalia in (again LOL my favorite) when you were mine in the dark. That nightmare scene took a lot of me to write and it was so tricky to write about trauma and not make it traumatic.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I think I matured enough to write about more serious topics in the Tiva timeline (Somalia, the secret summer, Tony alone during season 13, Tali's birth) with the degree of seriousness I wanted to.

The spin-off been revealed also pushed me to write about stuff I had always been afraid (sofia's take on 11x02 is coming!!! don't worry) in a way I liked. I had so much fun.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

Next year will be a year filled with studies from me again (horrible) but I'll continue to dive into hard topics such as Tali's birth, Cairo and 11x02. Can't wait to write about them before canon changes haha.

Also... The spin-off? Like??? Until proven otherwise, we are all collectively dreaming. It makes me want to cry.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Gotta give this one completely to @television-overload. Haley is such a sweet soul and a loyal friend. We embarked on this journey of a Tiva Fanfiction Writing project together (which you can check on @tiva-challenges !!!) in a way I've always dreamed of. Thank you, friend. Here's to many more projects in the Tiva universe.

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Yes. You don't need to know more, but all the secret summer of sex fics are about me personally. Yes. All of them. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Yes. Yes, all of them.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Treat your audience like they're smart.

It changed the way I wrote things completely. I show more than tell now and I found out that is the key to mysterious writing (which I love), people are going to make the connections. Storytelling is so fun!!!

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

YES. I'm currently writing about Tali's birth for a big personal goal of mine and I also want to write about Cairo before canon changes.

Which, well... Expect me to write about every episode of the spin-off. I can't believe I can say this. What a dream. What a beautiful dream.

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

when you were mine in the dark

Everyone, make way—this is my favorite work, ever. Trust me. Please. Please, read this one. It summarizes everything I think about Tony & Ziva.

15. Year word count: 101,920

I can't believe I've written this much this year. And without any big uncompleted works. I had only written this much on the pandemic.

Thank you so much for all the support! I love writing. I'll continue to write about Tony & Ziva until all of you get tired of me. Yay!

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [3/3]  Pairing: millionaire!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: mystery, major angst ahead, thriller, mafia!au-ish

Synopsis: Just run, Y/N. Don’t look back.

Warnings: dark and yandere themes, toxic relationships, mentions of violence, shady business, class differences, mentions of rape, smoll breeding kink, unwanted pregnancy, mentions of abortion, and sakusa being a manipulative bastard 

Notes: 

Im disappering again for a week or two so as a parting gift, here ya go, im starting a bokuto fanfic soon and posting the reboot of notice me soon too hnnng thanks for the wait guys uwu

A sorta realistic take on a yandere is harder than it looks kssjdn omg anyways here yall go the long awaited last chapter of filthy rich. I’m not sure if I should put like a one shot sequel but so far im marking this series completed. Thanks for sticking by!

previous || series masterlist || blood son [sequel;one shot]

You run your hands through your hair and shut your eyes tight, the quietness and stillness of your shared apartment was something to bask on before you put on a fake mask of happiness. It had been exactly two months since you found out about the birth control switch and the medaide agenda. 

In the span of those two months, you had grown more observant towards your boyfriend’s actions and you knew that it wouldn’t be anytime soon until he actually notices that you were onto him. 

You let out a shaky breath as you recollected some weird things you’ve seem to have noticed, how his brows would furrow when he’d receive a call indicating that something was up and it was serious or how you visited your ex-boss one time a week or so ago along with Kenjiro since you wanted to see how he was doing.

“...Well, he just didn’t come home and sold the place. Apparently he was in a rush to move or something because of family matters so I didn’t exactly see him.” the neighbor gossiped to you two.

“Y/N?”

You jump on your spot as you hear that dreadfully familiar voice.

“Hey,” You greet, walking up to him, you decide to do your usual hug but stop when you notice a small red stain on his necktie, the tie is dark blue and although it wasn’t obvious from afar, it definitely was up close. Your brows are furrowed together, this time in pure curiosity, “Did you get hurt? It’s unlike you to get messy.”

You notice the quick shift of attitude in his eyes, you were seemingly getting good at observing his emotions these days and it looked like he panicked for a second there.

Odd.

“A friend of mine had gotten hurt a while ago, you remember Atsumu Miya?”

A vivid image of a blonde man crossed your mind, he was another conglomerate friend of your boyfriend, another person to be weary of to add to the list, “Oh, is he alright?” you asked, trying to keep it casual as you untie his tie for him as usual.

“Yes. He’s awfully clumsy. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh…” You mumbled, “by the way, I visited my ex-chief.”

“Ex-chief?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, “You know, my boss from before? Me and a few co-workers decided to visit him since he was a really good boss. Turns out he just left without telling anyone, poor man.”

“Sounds unpleasant. Did you know why he quit?”

“No.” You shrugged as you take the tie out and place it on the side, “He suddenly just quit his job and moved, neighbors said it was also because of family matters. It’s kinda weird because as far as we knew, he didn’t have a family.”

“Would you like me to look into it?”

You almost stiffen when he slithers his arms on your waist but you didn’t want to give away any suspicion, “No. I don’t want to pry. Hopefully he’s enjoying his retirement.” You sighed, turning towards him with a tight smile, “Now what would you like for dinner? I was thinking Mediterranean? I need to lose some weight since I’ve been feeling bloated for a while.”

He leans in for a soft kiss on your temple, “Mediterranean would be fine. Would you like anything else? We could order more.” he hummed, his lips slowly started to dangerously hover on top of yours.

“No, it’s fine.” You give him a quick peck and wiggle your way out of his arms, your stomach doesn’t feel well these days. Whenever you were near Sakusa you had the urge to throw up your innards despite having an empty stomach.

You don’t notice the dangerous gaze on your behind as you pick up the phone for your take-out.

Sakusa hasn’t felt you in a long time and it’s driving him insane, he wants to feel your heat, your body, and everything in between. He wants to fill you up and see you pregnant with his children. He wants everyone in the world to know you were his and his only.

Yet he can’t do that.

You’ve ignored his affections these past few weeks and it had been driving him insane to the point where he had to ask one of his men to put an eye on you to see if you had been cheating on him or seeing someone else.

Yet you hadn’t.

Your routine was the same old one and Sakusa is digging his nails deeply into his skin in his office one day with his tie uncharacteristically untied. Miya Atsumu sits across him, taking a sip from his flask, “Ya look like shit.” the blonde points out.

“Fuck off, Miya.”

“Heard from your cousin that you’re not getting laid by your girl these days.”

“You better be thankful that you’ve got men behind you or I’d be shooting your fucking brains out for saying that.” Sakusa spats, his dark gaze pointedly looking at the blonde across him.

“You should just find someone else then and not yer prude of a-”

“Keep telling me ideas like that and maybe I might just shoot you and chop your body up until it looks fuckin’ unrecognizable.”

Atsumu raises his hands up, signaling that he was giving up, “Gee, omi-omi. I was just giving my advise. It’s so easy to drop her.”

“I don’t want to drop what’s mine.”

“You’ve got issues.” He chuckles, “Haven’t you been switching out her pills and fucking her raw for the last couple of months? I bet yer ass you got her pregnant on that before but ya just don’t know it. Getting her pregnant would definitely secure her spot in her life. Woman’s nuthin’ without ya.”

“She’s...she’s not showing…”

“When was the last time ya two went at it?”

“Two months ago.”

“Ya poor boy.” Atsumu sighs, shaking his head, “Ya sure you don’t want to take a break from being a loyal boyfriend for one night? i bet Y/N wouldn’t notice.”

“And no one would notice if you fucking disappeared. I’ll make sure of it, now get out.”

You may not have been the sharpest tool on the shed but you know that someone’s been tailing you these past few days, you’re not stupid. You could only come to the conclusion that it was Sakusa who was doing such things but you couldn’t get why.

Something just didn’t make sense. It felt like you were missing an important piece in the puzzle, med-aide and the switch of your pills and now a hidden tail?

You furrow your brows together in deep thought  as you sat down next to a teenage boy on his phone, you decided to take the bus today to the grocery store, surprisingly the one tailing you wasn’t around today.

Your eyes slowly shift towards the boy’s phone, it seemed like he was playing a video game.

An otome game, to be exact.

You felt your lips twitch up, you remembered those games a lot growing up. The graphics seem to have massively improved now by the looks of it, “...That looks interesting.” You tell the teenage boy who turns to you in surprise.

“Oh, thanks.” the blonde replied quietly.

“Is that a new otome game?”

“Kind of.” He blinks, his gaze returning back to the screen,  “It’s sort of a remake of the yandere simulator from back then.”

You feel your shoulders tense up.

“A yandere?”

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, “The girl’s awfully creepy in the game, she stalks him, does things to get him. The player has to catch her in the act and evade her at the same time.”

“Oh…” You blink, “I-uh, this is weird… but what’s a yandere again?’

“It’s someone obsessively in love with you. They’ll do anything to have you stay by them.” He says, pushing on a button but suddenly the screen turns red and you feel shivers run down your spine as you hear him curse and the words ‘you’re caught’ appear on the screen.

“W-what happened to your character?”

“He died. Nothing much.” he mumbles, “If the Yandere knows they can’t have you, they’ll kill you.”

You immediately went pale as soon as you heard that. Maybe, just maybe you were being paranoid. He wouldn’t go to that extent, would he?

“How did your character escape the yandere in the game?” 

“Well, I haven’t finished the game yet but based on some anime’s and manga’s I've usually read. They either killed to get away or they moved so far away where they wouldn’t be seen so I think the creator might have the same ending.” The blonde said, he slowly looked to your side, “You’re looking awfully pale, ma’am. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, j-just remembered a horrible game I played back when I was your age.” You gulped in, “Nightmares, you know? The yandere tried to get my character pregnant and tried to get in her way of moving out of the country.”

“Sounds like a very realistic one.”  He mumbles, “What did your character do?”

“I wasn’t able to finish it.” you whispered, loud enough for him to only hear, “I couldn’t really find a way out.”

“The developers of the game must’ve made it hard for you. Maybe your character should’ve ran away,” he advised, “Or better yet, you should’ve killed him.”

“I-well, I don't think there were options like that.”

“Well if I were you and there was no option for killing, I’d run. Far, far away. Change my identity and all that.” he exits the game and stuffs the phone back in his pocket, you get a good look of his cat-like eyes and immediately feel a shiver on your spine with the next words he say, “I mean its a game but you wouldn’t wanna loose and get your character killed, right?”

“R-right.”

The teenage boy hops down without even saying goodbye and you have a scary realization that you can’t break it off like you originally had planned. You needed to run, run far as you can and get lost.

The words that the teenage boy says echoes in your head for the next few days, from that point on, realization dawns upon you that, nothing is certain now. You couldn’t trust anyone, you couldn’t let friends and family be involved in this. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a powerful man so you needed to be careful with how you were going to disappear.

You continue to act nonchalant and the same as you try to lay out your plan but you knew that you had only a week or so to complete this for it to successfully work.

Sakusa Kiyoomi wonders what he should do to save the relationship, he’s tried everything in the book that he could think of but you remained the same. Was this the end of the relationship? For real?

He could never stomach the idea of having you leave him.

It’s eerie that day, something felt different when he came home to an empty apartment. It looked the same yet something felt very, very different. Apparently the apartment guards said you were here since your car hadn’t left the driveway and they hadn’t seen you go out.

He checks out your side of the closet, your clothes remain there untouched and your toiletries were there too. He scans the fridge for your notes but nothing is stuck there. He suddenly feels like something cold was dumped on him.

It couldn’t be, right?

Right?

He runs to every room, checking every nook and cranny and when he finally reaches the last room which was the bathroom, nothing is there.

Everything was in its place except you.

Where were you?

Your bank account remains untouched, your wallet and phone was left in the apartment. It was as if you were returning home, the very least. Komori tells him to calm down, saying that they’re letting the best people find you around the city, they don’t rule out that someone might’ve had the audacity to touch you.

Whoever took you would be given hell to pay, that’s for sure. Was it the triad? Kkangpae’s? Or opposing yakuza’s? Oh, they’ll definitely have their heads on the platter if they tried to harm a single hair on your head.

Sakusa doesn’t even hesitate to notify the police about you already despite the memorandum that twenty-four hours is needed to consider a person missing, it's nothing a little money can fix.

“I hope we find her soon.” Your aunt sighed, “I’ve notified her parents about it. It’s definitely weird that she’d leave all her valuables behind.”

Hinata and Natsu sit there next to their mom, completely sad and worried, “I’ve hired the best people for it already, obaasan. We’ll find Y/N.” Sakusa replies yet his thoughts are in a complete frenzy now.

And find you they did.

No stone was left unturned. He made sure of it. Yet after a month of relentless searching. Nothing came up, it seemed like you had just vanished and Sakusa Kiyoomi had turned the whole underground world upside down for you but nothing came up.

Some say that you disappeared and ran away but that was immediately ruled out, no security cameras saw you in and out during that day and it would be impossible for you to just leave without security cameras on you. The guard had exclaimed that despite the blackout that day, the generators only took a few minutes to power up so they’d definitely catch you on camera in case you ever exited the building (along with the guards since they knew exactly what you looked liked) plus the clothes and such were still there, left untouched.

Some said you died, it was definitely impossible for you to just vanish without a single trace after all since everyone was looking for you.

Yet no one dared to say it in front of the boss, not if they valued their life.

The billionaire had dried out his connections to find you. What good was it to be the most powerful and richest man in the country if he couldn’t find you? Life had no meaning now, you were gone. It felt like a part of him was ceasing to function.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a dead man walking now.

Unknown to the whole world, you’re in a small town with little to no signal. Your hair is chopped unevenly and your skin is darker from the repeated exposure under the sun, your life is simple and mundane now yet you’re happy.

For the first time in months, you actually felt free.

You shut your eyes tight, the events that transpired this past few months replayed  in your head. Your escape was definitely done as carefully as you can and you didn’t even know if you’d succeed since you weren’t a master in that sort of thing.

You recalled that it was a week before you ran away, a few days after you met that kid in the bus. Someone from the electric company had come to inform you that there was a scheduled black out in the city that day during the afternoon and you felt something bubble up in you. That was the day you’d put your plan into motion.

You knew that the longer you delayed your plan, the harder it would be to escape.

You had a few minutes to actually put your plan to work. The camera’s on the hallways would cease to function for a few minutes according to the guard downstairs as he did a protocol on the building (apparently the generators were quick). So that morning after Sakusa left, you placed only a few clothes and the stash of money you had been carefully hiding in a garbage bag and chopped your hair short in an uneven manner. Burning all the remaining hair on the fireplace and the black hair color that you use with it. The maid uniform that you stole on your floor and a fake name plate that you made was on and you were good to go.

The minute the black out started, you took the garbage bag and walked out. Taking the stairway used by the caretakers, you made sure to just look down and never directly up at the camera’s pretending to work.

When you finally made it out of your building. You let out a stiff sigh and put down the bag, it was only the beginning. If you thought the same way as Sakusa Kiyoomi, you could only imagine that you needed to be more careful from this point on.

You take the newly bought duffel bag that you strategically hid behind some boxes. Thankfully when you had placed it yesterday afternoon, it hadn’t been touched. 

You put on a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt with cheap shades and stuffed the maid uniform in the duffel bag along with your belongings in the garbage bag. You take the other route that led to the busy streets. It was easy to look like a tourist and seemingly blend in the crowd, from that point on, you only had one destination in mind.

When you were younger, you vividly remember an acquaintance telling you about this small town outside of Tokyo where her grandparents were from. It was only an hour away via plane and when you went down another few hours via bus yet if you took the bus route all in all, it would take a few days.

Since it was far, only a few busses actually went there and since you had to leave within the day, you decided to just take the bus nearest to that town and take another bus when you arrived there.

The plan smooth-sailed from that point on.

Except for one minor detail.

You open your eyes and look down at your now small bump. The monster who almost had you trapped left a parting gift, you grip your garden hoe tightly.

A big part of you wanted to kill it.

Yet every time you try to, you hesitate.

The moment you arrived here, you had to pretend to be a weary and poor widow. You just didn’t expect to be a weary and poor expecting widow. You let out an uncharted sigh at the thought, it was hard enough to be alone here with little to no money. 

This child had the demon’s blood in it.

Yes, you may have gone free from his cage but in truth with his seed growing in your stomach day by day, you started to feel quite the opposite.

taglist [thanks for your support ilyasm skkss im so sorry for updating late too :(]

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@kn0xiousnight  

[can’t tag you guys uwu just make sure ur tags are open :<]

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

[longlivefeedback]

hi, how are you? hope you are doing fine.

i'm struggling. i know writing in any other language other than english hits different on Ao3.

but,

i wrote my first longfic for this fest hosted on a facebook group. i always thought i was uncapable of writing a plotty story (mi longest fic was 6k... this one is more than 90) so this motivated me to prove me wrong. and yes i enjoyed the process, but it was really hard work, it consumed 3 months of my life and by that i mean i couldn't think about anything else, sometimes i would think it was a huge pile of garbage and i was wasting my time. but i kept going.

and then the day came, the fic dropped, and i like how the story turned out to be! it has a every element i enjoy reading. my beta helped me a lot with critique. i was very careful with grammar and spelling. i think it's sexy, original, funny, meaningful.... i was proud to post it.

so i read it and i think: fuck. what am i missing here? what am i not seeing? why no one likes my writing? is it really that bad?

i tend to think people on this fandom hold hands with "oldies" and give their back to people like me, that just started posting. but maybe i'm creating this fake image to 'cope' with it lol.

i try not to think about it and not even opening my email because i'm too sensitive to find nothing. nothing. all the time. but i found your blog and thought maybe i would share it. fuck, i cry as i write this lfmaooooo fuckkkkkkklkkk

😢 I'm so sorry, Anon. *gives you a hug and holds you*

Your situation is a rough one to be in and my heart goes out to you.

Before I talk about the feedback on your fic, can I just say what an amazing job you've done as a writer??!

To put things into perspective:

This is your first longfic! 😱 🎉🎊💐 That is amazing and a feat in itself!! Give yourself a huge pat on the back and you can cross that off your bucket list!

You wrote 90k words in 3 months. Writing 90k of anything is hard as it is, and you did it. In 3 months. For context, NaNoWriMo has a word count goal of 50k words in a month. Crucially: "Word count is the only measure of "success" on Nanowrimo; quality is irrelevant." You not only wrote all those words, you also edited your story and polished it in the space of three months. That's a superhuman effort and you should be proud!

You kept going even though you had self-doubt. That's incredibly resilient of you and shows an incredible amount of hard word, determination, and self-discipline. Do not discount the value of finishing something. Something is better than nothing. Perfection is a myth. You finished the fic and it is art and it exists. That is amazing. And you did that.

Anon, I just want to take a moment to appreciate what you did. Breathe and give yourself a pat on the back. Congratulations! You did it!

Okay. Now to address your main concern in your ask: I'm sorry you feel unsupported in your journey thus far.

Especially if you're new to posting, having expectations about the level of support you will receive for your work and to have reality not meet them is devastating.

I don't know why it seems like no one is reading and responding to your work. Every writer who has posted for fandom has probably asked themselves the same questions that you're asking now. None of us have the answer. Writing and marketing are two different skills. Quality does not equal popularity/visibility.

However, here are a few things to consider to help 'explain' away the lack of feedback you've received. They may or may not be helpful:

Was all the fic posted all at once or over a short span of time? Lots of fics at one time (ala big bang style) can be overwhelming for readers. Fics get lost in the shuffle. Readers can only read one fic at a time and it may be that readership is spoilt for choice and yours is the unlucky one that didn't get read :(.

Relatedly, 90K is a lot of words. Some readers may be intimidated. Some may be saving yours for last! If all fics for your event are 90K+, it will take time for readers to make it through any one fic. However, I know that hope can be a double-edged sword. If you need to step away from the emails for your mental health, do that. Turn off email notifications for emails. Don't check your AO3 inbox. The comments will be there when you're ready to come back. And if they are still not there, at least you've had a few days break from the agony of anticipation.

Are there other sites you can post your work to? The way you wrote the opening of your ask indicates that your fic wasn't written in English (apologies if I misinterpreted this!) I believe that most of AO3's readers look for fics in English, so if there are alternative sites that are more popular for fics in a certain language, can you post to them? Maybe you will have more luck with say a fic written in Italian at a site where the readership is mostly looking for Italian fics?

What does your beta think? Your beta seems to have helped you a lot through the process. Hopefully you've built up enough of a rapport with them that you feel comfortable speaking to them about this. This is obviously weighing on you a lot and having someone to support you, even if it's just 1 person, can make a world of difference. So, have you spoken to them about your disappointment? If they're also from the fandom, do they have a perspective that they can offer to help bear this burden? If not them, is there someone else familiar with your situation that you trust enough to speak to that can support you?

Have you talked to mods/fellow writers in your event about it? Chances are that you are not the only writer facing this. Maybe you can read and give feedback on each other's work? If mods are open to feedback for their event, maybe raise this as a concern to them? This has obviously been a very discouraging experience for you, and if the point of the event was to nurture/encourage participation in your fandom, this is having the opposite effect. At the very least, at least you've said your piece and hopefully it will bring you some closure on this. In a better outcome, maybe there's something mods can do to help you promote your work?

As an aside, I did not quite understand this part of your ask:

i tend to think people on this fandom hold hands with "oldies" and give their back to people like me, that just started posting. but maybe i'm creating this fake image to 'cope' with it lol.

Does this mean that there's an "in" group with older fans who are very exclusive and make it hard for newer fans to feel included and part of the fandom? Or the opposite where older fans are very inclusive and "have the backs" i.e. support newer fans a lot? Apologies for not quite following your meaning here.

All that been said though, none of this really helps give you what you really crave the most for. So. Fuck it. Find your favourite phrase or paragraph that you wrote in this fic. Send it in. I'll give you feedback on it :)

You're doing amazing Anon. I'm so proud of you.

[thatesqcrush]

Change of Plans, Pt. 3

Rafael Barba x Reader. F/u piece to “Best Laid Plans.” For Kink Bingo: 69, which gives me one more complete row. My final piece for the kinkbingo challenge. I know kikntober is over, but hey lets give a welcome to kinkvember. 

WC: 2805

AN: Another p*rn without plot. Like, pure filth.

CW: p in v sex, male & female receiving oral sex, dirty talk, an*l sex, this is MMF and MFM. Also language. NSFW, so heed those warnings.

--

Sleep befell you three quickly. In the morning, you woke up alone. The room still permeated with scent of sex. You stretched, arching your back and elongating your limbs, enjoying the way the expensive sheets felt against your naked body. You sat up, pressing the flat sheet against your body. You reached for your phone, to check for any messages.

The sound of the elevator arriving caught your attention and you quickly ran your hands through your hair, in an attempt to smooth out any bedhead.  You smiled when you saw Rafael. He was holding a shopping bag and a tray of two large drinks, which you had hoped was coffee.

“Good morning.” Rafael greeted as he set the tray of coffee down. “Bryan took the liberty of sending for a new pair of shoes for you. He had to go into the office for a few hours but he plans to meet us for brunch. For now, it’s just you and I. I brought coffee. I thought we could go get whatever you needed for the weekend.”

“You are a godsend.” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around Rafael and pulling hi into a hug. Rafael smelled like warm spicy citrus and just the scent alone evoked memories of the night prior. Your body ached in the best way.

Rafael nuzzled your cheek, before dipping his head to capture you lip with his. The kiss was soft and passionate, and warmth spread throughout your body, reigniting the fire from the night prior. Rafael slanted you head further, wrapping one hand around the nape of your neck, deepening the kiss. His other hand skated up your body, to the top of the sheet, pushing it down. That same hand then returned to the soft swell of your breast, squeezing. You let out a soft moan as your nipples tightened in response, eager for more.

The shrill of a phone ringing, interrupted the two of you. You both let out equal sounds of disappointment. Rafael looked at his phone and he answered it, standing. “Hola Yelina.”

You had taken enough Spanish to make out parts of his conversation – he was returning to New York the day after tomorrow – someone named Alex needed him. The tone of the conversation was stern and you could feel the tension as he clipped his responses. You climbed out of bed and figured which coffee was yours. You watched Rafael as you drank your coffee – his back was to you. Certain that the mood was spoiled, you took another swig of your coffee and then made way to the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click.

--

Twenty minutes later, you emerged from the shower feeling like a new person. You wrung your hair with the fluffy towel and found your clothes. You sniffed them – they would pass until you got home. Rafael was watching CNN, listening to Anderson Cooper talk about the upcoming election.

“Everything OK?” You asked as you found your jeans. You bounced in place, tugging the denim on.

Rafal looked up at you. “Of course; just some stuff from home. Nothing that can’t wait.” He stared at you intensely and you felt yourself blush under his gaze. You turned away to hide your discomfiture and instead focused your attention on the shopping bag. You opened the bag and took out the box – you let out a whistle at the pair of camel leather Nisolo smoking shoes. You knew the shoes were more expensive than you’d ever pay for yourself. You slipped them on and your feet were in heaven with the cushioned interior.

“Bryan did well.” You murmured to yourself. You finished getting dressed and used a claw clip to put your damp hair up.

“Ready to go?” Rafael asked. You nodded and as you both left, you didn’t miss how his hand wrapped around your waist.

--

The ride from the hotel to your apartment in East Hyde Park was not even thirty minutes. Rafael noted that the neighborhood had a strikingly serene setting considering that it was located in the middle of a large city such as Chicago. The neighborhood was bustling with young professionals. You gave Rafael a quick history lesson of the area – situated just south of Chicago's Loop, the area experienced rapid development in recent years, particularly in the South Loop neighborhood. The area boasted several historically-significant buildings and landmark districts. Cultural opportunities were abound, with various art galleries and museums were located in the area.

Rafael whistled at the lakeview you had from your apartment. “What a view.” Rafael complimented. You hummed in agreement, standing beside him, watching as waves of Lake Michigan crashed against the shoreline.

You turned back to pack some belongings for the weekend. You packed some clothes and then a lingerie bag with what you had that could pass off as your most sexy. You were pretty sure that it wouldn’t last long on you anyway, but you still wanted to wow them. You finished packing and then stripped to change into fresher clothes.

As you bent over to fish out another pair of jeans, you felt Rafael approach you from behind. He pressed himself against the curve of your ass, and you could feel his hardened cock. You stood straight, and Rafael pressed you flush against him. His lips ghosted the curve of your neck and you let out a small whimper of anticipation as he nipped your neck.

“Lets finish what we started before we were so rudely interrupted.” His voice was low and dangerous. Desire flooded your body once more. You turned around and stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. Rafael’s green eyes were blown with lust. Rafael grabbed you by your thighs and hoisted you into his arms. You let out a squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Rafael dropped you onto the bed, and you watched as he stripped his clothes. You eyed the large tent in his boxers, feeling your arousal flood between your thighs. You were already so wound up from earlier, you didn’t want to waste any time. You wanted his mouth, his cock, his hands on you and in you at once.

Rafael crawled up your body, kissing you passionately before working his way back down. He hooked his thumbs along the sides of your panties and tugged them. You raised your hips to help him remove them and he dragged the materials down your legs, before tossing them to the side. Rafael went to his knees, between your spread thighs. He pressed a kiss to each thigh before settling at your core, his breath ghosting over your clit, which was aching with need. Finally, Rafael dragged his tongue along your cunt, licking a broad stripe. His large hands held your thighs aside as he devoured you.

“Oh god, fuck, fuck!” You cried out, your hips undulating against his mouth.

“I fucking love this sweet little pussy.” Rafael mumbled before capturing your clit and sucking.

“I…I… want…” You had a hard time forming words as his tongue rolled over you repeatedly alternating with licks and sucks, causing your back to bow.

Rafael snaked a finger from beneath and slid it into you. He removed his mouth briefly to question you. “What do you want?” He took the opportunity to insert another digit inside of you.

“I… oh fuck!” You wailed as he curved his fingers, hitting that sweet spot. You pushed against his hand, trying to deepen his penetration. Your thighs trembled and you knew it would not take much longer to fall apart. You sucked in a breath. “To suck your cock.” You choked out.

Rafael removed his fingers completely and made a big show of sucking his fingers clean. You shuddered, watching him. “Then come sit on my face.” Rafael commanded, with an authoritarian tone that caused you to shudder. Rafael laid on the bed and he helped guide you over his face. Rafael pulled you down and returned to eating you out while you lowered yourself so you were face to face with his cock. Rafael massaged the flesh of your ass as his tongue lapped at your cunt. You pointed Rafael’s cock to your mouth and opened your mouth wide, feeling his erection push into the back of your throat. It was heavy and warm on your tongue as you wrapped your lips around him.  Rafael paused again, letting out a hiss in response. You spluttered around his length as you bobbed rhythmically. Your bedroom was filled with the wet sounds of Rafael’s mouth and tongue on your pussy and your mouth on his cock.

“That’s it… suck that cock like a good little girl.” Rafael crooned before pulling your hips down onto his face even more, delving his tongue inside of you as far as it could go. It didn’t take you long to fall apart, with you crying his name. Coming only spurred you and you returned your attention to his cock fervently. You used your hand to jack his cock while you cradled and sucked his balls with your mouth and tongue. A rumble emanated from deep within Rafael. “Y/N, I am going to come!” You took him in your mouth once more, as deep as you could go and within moments you could feel his cock pulse and twitch, his seed spilling down your throat hot, salty, and thick.

Rafael grunted once more and then smacked your ass. You removed your mouth from his cock and swung your legs off of him. Rafael pulled you to him and you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him how clean it was. He pulled you close to him and you dipped your head to his shoulder, pressing a kiss.

You both stayed there like that, wrapped in each other, with Rafael stroking your hair. Finally, Rafael looked at the clock on your wall. “We should get going – Bryan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

--

You both arrived at the restaurant, choosing to sit outdoors, rather inside as it was unseasonably warm. The restaurant itself was one that was notorious for being obnoxiously hard to get into, with a waiting list that spanned months but one phone from Bryan had opened up seats easily.

Bryan arrived and he greeted you with an open mouth kiss and then one to Rafael. He looked at Rafael curiously and then at you. “I can taste her on your lips.” Bryan grinned wickedly. “Safe to say you already ate.” He quipped, causing you to choke on your water.

“Y/N, save the choking for later.” Bryan continued as he sat down.

“Don’t quit your day job.” You quipped right back, feeling your cheeks burn.

Rafael took the liberty of ordering ahead for the table. The fare was simple but flavorful - kale and cheddar quiche, country paté with pistachio and foie gras and vanilla bean pancakes with pure maple syrup and blackberry compote with copious amounts of coffee and cocktails to be had.

It felt strange to sit at the table while both men talked about work. It jarred you back to reality that whatever this weekend was – was just another marker – another notch of fun for them and come Monday you’d all be back to your respective lives. The air was fraught, the conversation a sign of things changing.

You toyed your empty wine glass and then cleared your throat. “Why don’t we go do something… fun?” You suggested.

Something flickered in Bryan’s eyes at your words. “I suppose we should. I’ll send for an Uber.”

--

Back at the hotel, each man took turns undressing you and then each other. The air was charged and hot. Bryan and Rafael each licked up the opposite slopes of your neck and you softly sighed, clutching onto each of their bodies.

You kissed each man and then sauntered over to the bed where you laid back and spread your legs. “Bryan…” You beckoned, curling your finger. Bryan approached the bed and went to his knees. His hands were on you, spreading you wider and rolled his tongue over your clit.

“Still so wet from earlier.” Bryan noted.

You threw your head back and your eyes fluttered closed as Bryan put his tongue to work on your pussy. The bed dipped and Rafael was at your tits, sucking on them and rolling your nipples with his fingers. You lost yourself in the pleasure and wrapped your fingers in Bryan’s dark hair, keeping him in place in between your thighs.

“Make me come Bryan.” You whined.

Bryan responded by going down on you with eager gusto, slipping a finger inside of you while sucking on your clit. You cried out and Bryan looked up. “Rafael, hook her legs up.”

Rafael did as told, holding your legs up to where you ears were. From that position, your ass was exposed. Bryan pressed his mouth to your puckered rosebud. He kept his tongue loose and open and used a lot of saliva. Bryan licked you up and down using his tongue and made a circular motion with it around and over. Meanwhile, Rafael reached below and used two fingers to rub concentric circles on your clit. Bryan spat on your puckered opening and inserted a finger inside of you. You let out a sob, feeling your orgasm peak and wash over you. Bryan moved his tongue from your ass to pussy, licking and sucking through your orgasm. Rafael kept rubbing your clit, occasionally pinching it gently. Another orgasm washed over you, and you came hard over Bryan’s face and Rafael’s fingers.

Bryan winked at Rafael as he lowered your legs back to the bed. Rafael was on Bryan instantly, kissing him. The two men rubbed their bodies against each other, each pumping one another’s cocks. You crawled between their lower halves and alternated sucking and jacking their cocks.

“Yes, suck his cock.” Bryan praised as you ran your tongue over the head of Rafael’s cock.

“You look so pretty with a mouthful cock.” Rafael complimented, his hand wrapped in your hair, guiding you. Bryan shifted and he joined you in sucking Rafael’s cock. You would pause to make out and then resume blowing Rafael.

Bryan stopped what he was doing and got the lube. He drizzled it over his cock and pumped it a few times, getting it good and slick. He motioned with his hand for Rafael to lay down and he did so. You watched as he slid into Rafael, buried to the hilt and then started to fuck into him with slow, steady thrusts. Bryan turned to you, stilling. “Climb up there sweetheart. Go ride that cock.” You grinned and moved to Rafael. An idea came to you, and you climbed onto Rafael. You slid onto Rafael easily, letting out an “oh” as he filled you up. You began rock and bounce on his cock, in tandem with Bryan’s thrusts. The tempos increased from you and Bryan as you chased your orgasms. Growling curses emanated from deep within from Rafael.

“So close, so close.” Rafael chanted. You bounced on his cock harder, your ass clapping on his thighs with every downstroke. As you all fucked, the voice of truth in your mind affirmed that these two men ruined you completely – there would be no normal after this – how could you go back to normal after this.  With them all you knew was pleasure and decadence. You felt used and dirty, in the best way possible. Being their plaything was the best thing that had happened to you.

Bryan reached around you, finding your clit and rubbed. You stiffened, coming hard around Rafael’s cock, wailing both their names. Rafael let out a grunt coming hard inside you, so much that it seeped out of you while still connected. Bryan’s strokes broke and he pulled out, coming on your ass in white hot ropes.

You all collapsed in a mix of limbs and sweat. A goofy grin broke out on your face. “When can we do that again?”

“Dirty girl.” Bryan husked, nipping along the shell of your ear. He snaked his hand to your overstimulated cunt and cupped it possessively. You let out a soft moan and then turned to Rafael.

“Do you really have to go back?” You asked. The wistful look on you face turned into a haze of pleasure as Bryan sunk a finger in you.

“Lets not worry about that.” Rafael murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips.  His hand then slipped to your throat and he gently but firmly, squeezed.

Truth be told, both men didn’t want whatever this was to end. They just each wanted this for as much time they could carve out. Tomorrow would come soon enough. Today. Today and tonight was all they had. And for now, that would be enough.

FIN.

{Tag List} @madpanda75 @tropes-and-tales @delia26 @mgarner1227 @beardedmccoy @youreverycolor @neely1177 @the-baby-bookworm @mrsrafaelbarba @skittle479 @ottosuricato @sass-and-suspenders @mommakat32 @dreila03 @beccabarba @garturbo @lovebennycolon @imjustreallynosy @sweetsummertime99 @whyissvuruiningmylovelife @annabelleb49 @scarletsoldierrr @cesarofangirl78 @redlipstickandplaid @redlipstickandblacktea @zoeykaytesmom @differentshadesofgray @misssirenlove @esparza-army @bananas-pajamas @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie @theenchantedgalleryofstories @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd @pieceofshittytitty @ktiz90 @evee87 @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles @rampantmuses @jazzyjoi @caked-crusader @rachelxwayne @prurientpuddlejumper @lv7867 @permanentlydizzy @bisexual-dreamer02

[galassyalex]

overwrite

robot!albedo au word count: 1773

warnings: angst, character death

Log:

New role: Chief Alchemist of Mondstadt

“I’m so proud of you, Albedo! But as you know, I’ll be leaving Mondstadt with my husband. I need a favor from you. I want you to take care of my daughter, Klee You’ll be her older brother! We’ll be a family. I trust you’ll protect her and take care of her.”

New role: Older brother

New relationship with: Klee 

New main goal: Protect klee. 

>> Fast forward. Two weeks, 6:04 PM. Mondstadt gate. Log resumes. 

“No! Mom! Klee wants mom to stay!”

Klee is crying, this is a sign of discomfort, overwhelming and sadness. Running analysis. Analysis completed. Klee is sad because Alice, maternal figure, is leaving. 

“Klee, sweetie, mommy needs to leave for work, but your awesome brother Albedo will take care of you.”

Action noted: Hug. A “hug” is performed to comfort and usually bring happiness to both parties. 

“Go with albedo, Klee. Your mother and i should get going now”

New role: Caretaker

New task: comfort klee

Action performed: hug

>> Fast forward. Next day, 2:07 AM. Bedroom. Log resumes. 

“Albedo, are you busy?”

Klee has red eyes, a sign of crying. 

Klee’s hair is messy, a sign that she was sleeping.

Klee is shaking, a sign of discomfort and fear. 

Possible conclusion: Klee has woken up from a nightmare.

Course of action: comfort. 

“Did you have a nightmare? You can stay here if you’d like, sleep in my bed if you need to. I’ll be here watching over you.”

“Thank you ‘bedo, good night!”

Klee has fallen asleep. To ensure a good slumber, tuck her in. 

Action completed. 

New emotions learnt.

Commence night mode. 

>> Fast forward. Six months later, 3:16 pm. Lab. Log resumes. 

“Mister Albedo, another wonderful experiment. I-I’ll write down the results in the report!”

Sucrose is showing excitement. Positive emotion caused by a successful experiment. 

Tasks completed. 

New task: talk with Acting Grand Master Jean. 

>> Fast forward. 5:46 PM. Acting Grand Master’s office. Log resumes.  

“Albedo, I understand your request. But i’m afraid I’ll have to deny it.”

“Why’s that, master Jean?”

“It’s too risky, both the adventurer’s guild and the Knights of Favonius are not prepared for Dragonspine. Sending our chief alchemist on his own after only six months of acting is not a wise decision.”

“Then I believe the knights are not competent.”

“Albedo I ask you to not refer to the knights in such a way. I understand your displeasure but Dragonspine is simply too dangerous. You’re dismissed.”

Master Jean is frowning and rubbing circles on her temple. She seems to be upset at the remark made and also is under a lot of stress. Best course of action is to leave.

“Have a good day, Master Jean.”

Captain Kaeya is in the halls of the headquarters. 

New task: Talk to Captain Kaeya

“Good afternoon, Captain Kaeya”

“Ah, but if it isn’t mondstadts favorite alchemist, what is it that seems to trouble you?”

Captain Kaeya: seems to have taken a liken to me. Claims that people are “into me”. I’m unaware of the meaning of this expression. Is chatty and charming. Difficult to read. 

New task: ask for Kaeya’s support by complimenting him.

“I want to set off to Dragonspine, but Master Jean has denied me permission. She says the knights aren’t ready and I should not go alone. I ask for your help, since you seem to be one of the most skilled knights in this place.”

“Someone seems to be good at sweet talking. Tell you what, I have no specific team to lead but I’ll help you out. Some training should convince Jean you can do it. Plus, you can escape quickly with your Geo vision.” 

“Thank you, Captain Kaeya. I’m truly grateful.”

“Just Kaeya.”

“Captain Kaeya.”

“Kaeya.”

“Chivalry Captain Kaeya.”

“Okay now you’re messing with me. You truly are something.”

Kaeya seems pleased with the interaction.

Go back to the lab and complete the last tasks. 

“I’ll see you around, Kaeya.”

 >> Fast forward. 8:09 PM. Living room. Log resumes. 

“What would you like for dinner, Klee?”

“It’s Klee and dodoco!”

Dodoco is Klee’s doll. Dodoco is not alive. Dodoco can’t think nor move, dodoco cannot eat. This is a weird request. Conducting analysis.

Analysis complete. This is a normal thing for children. Go along with it. 

“I’m sorry. What would Klee and Dodoco like for dinner?”

“We want fish!!”

“Alright, would you like some rice with it?”

“Yes!”

“And lemon?”

“That too!! You’re the best Albedo!”

Klee has praised you, it causes a pleasant feeling. Respond.

“I’m not all that Klee, but thank you.”

Talking bad about one self is a common way to receive compliments. Yet it is a dumb one. 

Klee doesn’t seem to be paying attention anymore, children have short attention spans. Information recorded. 

New task: cook dinner 

Task completed. 

New task: serve the food.

“Klee, do you mind setting the table?”

“Okay!”

Giving children small tasks around the house helps their development. By having plastic tableware it avoids accidents. Good job. 

Task completed. 

“Let’s dig in.”

Klee enjoyed the food and also became happy talking about her day. It is now 9:00 PM, Klee’s bed time is approaching. 

>> Fast forward two years and six months. 2:08 PM. Lab. Log resumes.

“ALBEDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Klee has barged in. Check for damages. 

“Klee! Are you okay?”

Analysis started. Turn the subject around. Do it again. Pat her arms. 

Analysis completed, no damages taken. 

“Goal: Protect Klee” is unaffected. 

“Thank the archons you’re not hurt. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you did.”

“You worry too much, Albedo! Klee is a big girl now!”

This is a lie. Klee is 5 years and two months old. 

“What did you want to tell me?”

“Well! I went out to test my bombs and they’re a success!! I even added my own notes to mommy’s instructions! I can’t wait to show her! But I know I won’t be able too yet, so I wanted to show you since you’re the next best thing!” 

Klee’s ranking: Alice, Albedo, Kaeya, Razor, Amber, Sucrose, Lisa, Jean

Children are brutally honest.

Klee wants to share her bombs, you are currently busy.

Priority ranking: current experiment, Klee

Priority ranking: changed. 

“Haha, alright sunshine. Let’s go.”

“You’re not busy?”

“It can wait. Oh but first, can you give me the feather on your hat?”

“Sure!! What for?”

You’ve obtained Klee’s feather.

You’ve modified it successfully.

“I’m gonna let you test out your bombs more, and also conduct your own experiments. This will let me take care of you while we’re not together. If anything happens, tap it twice and i’ll be right there.”

“Woah! Thanks Albedo!! Now let’s go.”

Klee is happy. 

Goal. “Protect Klee” is affected positively.

I’m happy. 

>> Fast forward. Two days later. 11:08 AM. Lab. Log resumes. 

“Timaeus will be joining me in my journey in Dragonspine. Sucrose, I trust that you’ll take good care of the shop.”

“O-of course Albedo!” 

Sucrose seems to be pondering about something.

I decide to not pry, for it is none of my business.

“We’ll get going now.”

>> Fast forward. 1:26 PM. Dragonspine. Log resumes.

My sketch of the hillichurls dancing is complete. 

Peaceful time interrupted, the hillichurls seem to have noticed people and are now attacking them. Shame. 

It appears that Sister Rosaria was one of them.

“We met a girl in mondstadt, Sucrose! She said you were stuck with your research!”

“Then you must be the honorary knight, all of mondstadt is talking about you.”

They truly interest me. My research will benefit greatly with their cooperation. 

New relationship with: Honorary Knight

New relationship with: Paimon

New tasks: run tests with the pair. 

>> Fast forward, 1 minute. Dragonspine, Log Resumes.

“Paimon’s got a brain! But what is the seed gonna become?”

“Well if it turns into a fruit, then dinners on me.”

“Yay!! I’m holding you to it!”

“You seem to be able to look through Paimon easily.”

“Ah… let’s just say i have to take care of a child occasionally. One of the non-alchemy related disciplines i'm good at.”

Klee reminder.

Check on Klee.

Checking… 

Klee is with Razor, they’re hunting.

Klee is safe. 

“You okay there Albedo?”

“Ah yes, apologies. I just zoned out for a bit.” 

Commence tests.

Fight against slimes. Successful.

Potion. No notable changes.

Willpower. Failed. 

I’m hungry.

Cooking test. Average outcome, but they seem good at cooking. 

Vision test. Average.

Reaching the goal. Successful. Better than the average citizen. 

This brings new questions. Unlimited possibilities

Paimon interrupted. 

Commence intelligence test. Successful! 

“Thank you for your work, this is really useful. Come see me again tomorrow.”

“Bye Albedo!”

New task: clean up and organize today's research.

Task complete.

Check on Klee.

Klee is with Captain Kaeya, she’s braiding his hair. 

Klee is safe. 

Entering night mode. 

>> Fast forward. Next day, 11:45 AM. Dragonspine Camp. Log resumes

“Hi Albedo!”

“Hm? Oh, honorary knight, Paimon, why are you here? Never mind, catch.”

Action completed: give the sword to the traveler in an aggressive manner. 

“You into forging or what? Didn’t take you for the blacksmith type.”

Action completed: explained the origin of the sword. 

We ran some more tests, but we got ambushed by treasure hoarders. 

>> Fast forward. 6 PM. Dragonspine Camp. Log resumes

Klee notification: Klee has stood in front of the lab for 15 seconds.

New task: Spend time with klee

“I’ll do that later.”

Overwriting priorities…

Albedo priority ranking: Research, Klee.

>> Fast forward. One hour and thirty minutes later. 7:30 PM. Dragonspine Lab.

“I’m not making progress…”

Checking on Klee

Klee last location: Dragonspine

“What?! Why is she here?”

Now guiding too: Klee’s location

>> Fast forward. Ten minutes later. 7:40 PM. Dragonspine. Log resumes

There’s a backpack on the ground

Action completed: Lift the backpack

Klee: Pulse stopped two hours ago. Cause of death: Frostbite.

“KLEE!”

Action completed: yell

Goal: “Protect Klee” failed.

System status: Overwhelmed

Calling Alice

“Albedo? It’s so late here why did you- Is… is that Klee?!”

System status: unresponsive

“...”

“Albedo- you… you prioritize your research over klee? Why? Why? Why?”

“Main goal failed, commencing shutdown.”

“What?! No! NO! Cancel! Overwrite! Main goal! Go to mondstadt!! Please! Albedo! I can’t lose both of you…”

Action performed: Hug klee

Self destruction in 3… 2… 1…

“ALBE-”

Can’t fast forward. Log ended. 

you achieved the true ending | gaaaah it wouldnt let me copy the format from the doc so i apologize if its wrong

masterlist for thsi au

[elmidol]

Rogue Order - Chapter 3 (of 4)

Summary:  You are a barista in the coffee shop that Armitage Hux goes to every morning. He’s polite, however has never cracked a smile. One day, you decide to try to change that by giving him a little treat. Things wind up going much better than planned.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Pairing: Armitage Hux/Reader

Rating: M; This chapter contains nsfw content (oral, female receiving)

for @terry2227​

notes: Modern Day/Coffee Shop AU; outline for fic was written by terry2227

Chapter Three

 You toyed with the edge of the book that you had brought with you for the expected lull after the initial morning rush--one that had been shorter lived than on days when ice was not slick along the pavement. Armitage Hux was within the walls of First Rogue as well. While you wanted to speak with him, to spend time with him at all, you were allowing him some room to get work done. He had brought in quite the assortment of folders along with a laptop computer. His fingers flew along the keys with minimal breaks for the period of nearly five minutes. You stared, impressed with his typing speed.

 Due to his intentions to remain inside the establishment, the coffee that you had served him was in a smaller cup, one of the porcelain mugs to be exact. He had requested that he first be given his regular order to assist in enhancing his concentration. Later he would indulge in one of the mystery flavors that you had written down.

 There had not been many words exchanged between the pair of you just yet. You glanced at Armitage once more for any indication that he was ready for a break. His fingers paused in their movements, the tapping of the keyboard ending almost abruptly. He reached for the coffee, pulling it upwards and taking the sip, and then replaced the mug and resumed his work. His posture was one that doctors would be proud of. He supported his spine where necessary, did not slouch. Yet he was not too rigid in a manner that may have caused muscle cramps.

 You touched the edge of your book again, this time drawing it up into your hands and opening to where you had last left off. Your eyes began to roam along the words. At first you did not soak in what was written; upon your second pass, however, you were drawn into the world painted by the author until the sound of a throat being cleared startled you back into reality. You were unsure just how much time had passed. Time enough for Armitage to rise from his seat and come over.

 Though he did not say so aloud, Armitage found it to be rather endearing that you were able to become absorbed in a book. The expression of contentment that it had encouraged to form on your face had him wondering more about the novel in question. Not that he would have time to read it--not for at least another month; his mind would wander back to work if he attempted to sit down and read. He considered asking if you would be able to sit with him while he worked then changed his mind. That might be awkward for the both of you, in part because it might paint him as being needy or desperate for your attention, and in part because you might not be interested in him beyond casual conversation. He settled instead on another approach, which could potentially span into an avenue that allowed him to invite you to join him.

 “Is there anything light on the menu that you would suggest?” He made a gesture with his hand. “I save lunch for being my heavier meal; it makes it easier when business lunches run longer to have more food. Otherwise the food can be saved as leftovers for the evening.” Armitage found himself enjoying the manner in which you were watching him, your eyes darting between his moving hand and his face as you listened.

 “We have several, yes,” you said, furrowing your brow and resisting the urge to look directly at either the menu or one of the pastry displays. There were small protein packs as well that were available. Allowing just shy of a minute to elapse, you mentally toyed with the options that you could present to him before you rattled them off beginning with two of the protein choices and ending with three pastries that would not be too filling. Between those there were fruits, although you had to dart away to the minifridge to ensure that they were in stock whereupon you noticed that yogurt could be included on the list as well.

 When Armitage stated that he would enjoy a pastry, you asked if he wanted it warmed. Here he did not answer right away, opting to internally debate, and then he nodded and walked back in the direction of his table after handing you the correct amount of change for the food. The moment of silence that had transpired after he had inquired about food caused him to realize that his approach might have been better. It was not as though he was oblivious to the pastries that the coffee shop served. As for the other items, he had never paid them much heed. You had not made a single comment to embarrass him or point out the fact that the pastries were on display; he liked that about you--it was a contrast to Brendol’s tendencies to pick at any perceived flaws, and the individuals that Brendol dated were of a similar nature. He did not have to be on his guard when with you.

 As he sat down in the chair, Armitage began to reorganize the files that he had brought with him. He created two piles, one composed of those he no longer needed for the time being and the second for what he planned to leaf through as he completed the tasks he had assigned to himself for the day. In this manner he was able to clear up sections of the table that would allow room for his food as well as you if you did decide to join him. He ran two fingers along the edge of his laptop, a twitch in his shoulder before he grew more rigid. The food would be heated in a matter of seconds, and you would soon be walking over. Armitage cocked his head enough to listen without, in his own opinion, being too obvious.

 Your footsteps were soft, though remained audible especially as you drew nearer. He caught a glimpse of you in his peripheral mere moments before you placed the plate upon the table a little to his right. After setting down the plate, you did not move away but instead shifted towards another chair and sat down. There were no other customers in First Rogue, and he hoped to take advantage of this before things changed. Armitage reached to tug a small piece off the pastry; this, for him, was a small act of rebellion--Brendol would have chastised him for not using a fork, for dirtying his hands.

 “Do you have a deadline on the project you’ve been working on?” you asked, keeping your gaze trained on him though you nodded in the direction of his laptop. You did not want to appear too nosey. This was a readily available topic to bring up in order to open up a further line of dialogue.

 Armitage had drawn a piece of the pastry into his mouth, keeping him from answering your question immediately. “I have quite a bit of time before the deadline arrives.” The hint of a smile flashed on his features, a kind of muscle twitch that you did not often see from him. “Doing groundwork now will save me hassle later.”

 “I have a few home projects like that,” you commented after a beat, earning a slow blink and a tilt of the head from him. You felt yourself smiling, relaxing. He was interested in what you had to say beyond First Rogue, which was everything that you had hoped for. Or, if not everything, a very good start. “Some of it has to do with organizing and decluttering.” You did not want to potentially bore him with other projects that were ongoing since you were ignorant of what all of his interests were.

 “I still have a box to unpack,” he murmured. You furrowed your brow while considering his words, recalling that he was newer in town. Given his personality, you had always assumed that he was the type to unpack and organize all his belongings the moment he was settled in a new place. It was, in a way, refreshing to learn that you had been wrong.

 Another customer entering First Rogue drew you out of the chair and back towards the counter. More patrons trickled in at that point, which you had expected yet found yourself disappointed--distracted may have been a more appropriate term--in ways that you never had before. Then again, Armitage had not previously remained within the walls of First Rogue until that day. You peeked at him multiple times while ringing up a larger order. The woman delivering it was a regular who came in twice a month due to organized events for her work; she treated her coworkers to some coffee and pastries while they prepared on the days before. 

 Preparing the order busied you enough that you were able to focus on work rather than glance again at Armitage. You rolled through another four orders before looking his way. At that point he was three-quarters the way through his pastry. Most others you knew would have finished it, which proved to you that he was taking his time--but was that because he was waiting for you, or were you flattering yourself? You shook your head, worked to maintain your smile, and handed over the final order that you had taken to the customer, who walked over to one of the other tables and sat down. That eliminated some of the privacy that had previously existed, you thought, chagrined.

 Armitage curled three fingers around the edges of the final pastry portion, breaking some of its flakes off the larger piece. In unison with consuming the food, he had worked more on the project and a side outline for other items to later be completed before the deadline arrived. The weather outdoors appeared to be worsening in terms of temperature. Passersby in the street hugged their coats more tightly around themselves, and many that eyed First Rogue darted instead towards cars to drive away. He very much doubted that several stores he knew of in town would be open for much longer.

 The patron that had walked to a different table drew his gaze as you headed in his direction again. You moved into the same seat as before, and this time Armitage readjusted himself in his chair so that he was better facing you. “Do you have all essentials?” He would need to drop by the store for one or two items in case the weather continued on this path for the next few days. When you replied that you were already prepared, he spoke again, this time more confident. “When the weather is more agreeable, may I take you to lunch?”

 You felt your heart hiccup in your chest, your lips parting in surprise. Doubt crept into your veins; you could not have heard him correctly, could you have? “Come again?” you asked, voice softer than you would have preferred. Armitage repeated his request.

 Lunch was, you reminded yourself, not quite as intimate as dinner. The setting would be more casual, relaxed. If he was pulling your leg, it would be easier to get out of that situation--truthfully, you were beginning to worry that this, your interactions with him, were to cure his boredom. Doubt was a cruel thing indeed.

 “Yes, I would like that.” What offered more hope that this was not some joke was that Armitage gave you his phone first. As you reciprocated, you felt the muscles in your shoulders relaxing. The pair of you agreed to postpone settling on a time or date until after the night’s weather forecast. When you did meet for the lunch date, it would be just that--meeting. You did not want to ask him to pick you up though he did offer to drive the two of you. It was nicer to have a quick getaway if things became miserable.

 Such thoughts nearly made you laugh as you sat across from Armitage midway through the following week. He had allowed you to choose the venue, which you had been only too happy to suggest one of your favorite local restaurants. Falling into a conversation with him there was easy as it had been in First Rogue. You settled for one of your preferred meals at the restaurant while Armitage looked through the menu before making his decision. With the orders sent in, the two of you were left alone, and it was Armitage who first began to speak. Not about coffee or the weather either. That was, perhaps, why it was not difficult to reply.

 “You don’t play any board games?” you repeated, leaning back a little as though the new perspective would change anything. Armitage shook his head whilst offering a flat no that was not rude, however it indicated this was not the first time his revelation had surprised the other party. “Do you just not enjoy games, or…?”

 Armitage refrained from biting the insides of his cheeks as he mulled over your inquiry. The question had been posed by others in his past, and on those occasions he had switched to a new subject. With you, he did not fear judgment. There was a sense of safety that prompted him to shift nearer. He rested his forearms on the table--doing so would have earned him much scrutiny from the others in his life--and swallowed before beginning to speak. “Games were not common in my childhood. There are several that are quite simple to learn, however I am at a disadvantage due to being less familiar with them.”

 “Oh,” you said. You had assumed a similar posture to his, the distance closing though the two of you were separated by the table. His eyes traced the contours of your face, mapping how the muscles in your countenance shifted with each new expression. “If you wanted to, sometime we could find a game neither of us have played. They’re always coming out with new ones anyway. Neither of us would have the advantage that way.”

 Such an offer implied that the pair of you would likely be at a residence instead of in a restaurant or some other public venue while you played. There would be no need for him to become self-conscious. No eyes on the two of you. It would not matter if he struggled; he doubted you would judge him poorly, as you hadn’t done so yet. Armitage replied with his acceptance as the waiter started to walk over with the food that had been ordered. Even while eating, the conversation did not die away. You alternated speaking, sharing information with the other, learning about interests, both those that you shared and several that differed. When the meal ended, neither of you was quick to leave.

 Armitage walked you to your car, moving in for a kiss when your body leaned into his. Your lips were soft, mouth pliant. The two of you broke away only when there was a need for air. “We should do this again sometime.” He felt ridiculous for phrasing things that way, yet could not think of anything else to say. He could think only of your mouth on his, of how your body had felt pressed against his own. How much he wanted you. How comfortable he felt with you.

 “Definitely,” you said, elation coursing through your entire being.

 The dates that followed were never a disappointment, and their venue transformed from casual to more intimate settings. When he asked to take you to a place in the city the first time, you had hesitated--you did enjoy some of the restaurants and shopped in its stores; it was the fact that the city sounded, to you, to be his territory that you did not immediately respond. Armitage was attentive to your mood, and proposed an alternative location, one within town. His willingness to accommodate you in this way eased your mind, and so the two of you had gone into the city. On one of the warmer days--the air remained frosty, only with less of a nip to it and one that was tempered by a warm beverage--the pair of you had gone for a stroll in one of the city’s parks. That particular date had been one of your favorites. Armitage had been more at ease, the wall that hid his emotions shifting aside multiple times as he smiled your way.

 That date had been two weeks previous, and the two of you had agreed on going to his place after enjoying a movie together. You had a game that you would try out, which you handed over to him once he had opened the door for you to enter. You walked into his place first and allowed yourself a chance to look around. You were more than a little curious how he had his place decorated; you knew already that he did not have family photos hanging, as he was not close with his parents. His friends were limited in number, and the majority of them had not been to his house since he had moved into town. Another fact that you knew was that Armitage had a cat named Millicent, who eyed you from behind a scratching post that was set up for her.

 You squatted down, encouraging her to come closer while Armitage set the game on the table. She did not budge, to which you took no insult. You were more distracted by the man you were with. Standing, you found yourself in his arms, which shifted around you. The first kiss had you leaning into him. The second encouraged you to move backwards in the direction of the couch that you had seen.

 His hot mouth sealed over the flesh of your neck, breath and tongue wetting the area. You felt your body responding, your abdominal muscles tightening as you raised your hands to his hair. The locks fell out of place under your touch. They were softer now than on days that he had work meetings, where he often gelled back his hair to keep it out of his face. A low groan escaped Armitage as your fingers danced along his scalp and made their way to his ears, which you knew were one of his more sensitive areas. You grinned, moaning into the kiss that he placed on your lips. That devilish tongue darted out again, this time to toy with yours. You were happy to oblige, working your tongue against his, tasting the hint of mint that lingered.

 “You really like that taste,” you said between kisses, your hands moving even lower, now on his collarbone, his chest.

 Armitage shifted himself and felt the tip of his nose skim along yours. The way your mouth worked around the word taste had him biting back what he truly wanted to suggest. He might, if given more prompting. He did not want you to be under the impression that he had invited you to his apartment with the sole intention of having sex. There was more build up to be had, more verbal foreplay. Armitage allowed himself to smirk at the thought, his eyes narrowing slightly. You responded to his expression by biting your bottom lip and letting your gaze roam along his face. You pressed your hips into his. That was encouragement enough; he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing, kneading the muscles and pulling you in closer, grinding against you.

 “I do like it,” he said, lifting his eyebrows and continuing to smirk. He held his breath for a moment as you touched both of your hands to his chest, running them up and down along his shirt, feeling him through the material. Blood was pooling throughout his body, a faint blush settling on his face and running lower.

 You made a trail with your hands from his chest up to his face, and the pair of you moved in unison so that your mouths met again, hungry, wanting. His tongue explored your mouth, caressing the contours and making you clench. Armitage began to map out your body with hands as well, and you did not stop him, instead pushing more into his touches, grinding against him until he moved you onto the couch, nearly pinning your body with his. He danced his fingers down further and further, parting your thighs with one hand and tracing your slit with two fingers of the other. You moaned again as he moved between your legs, grinding against you, his cock, though still clothed, hard and sliding so close to where you needed and wanted him. You undulated underneath him, hands tugging at his shirt, drawing him in as much as you were able.

 He rolled his hips, thrusting against your body and building friction that you increased with your own movements. Jolts of pleasure shot through you, heat welling into the lower part of your belly. Armitage’s hands were on your breasts then as he continued to explore. Kneading them, pressing them towards one another and bouncing your breasts against his palms. He tugged you, grinding his pelvis into yours, dropping his hand lower so that his fingers could toy with your clit through your clothing.

 “Don’t stop,” you said, grabbing at his wrist long enough to maneuver his hand into a new angle. You began to undo the front of  your clothes until Armitage realized what you were doing.  With a grunt, he assisted you in ridding your body of that first layer. His fingers then hooked into your panties, drawing them aside when once more you nodded. You curled your toes, eyes glued on his mouth.

 Armitage found that he did not require any further encouragement; he knew what you wanted, that it was the same thing he wanted in that moment. He ran his tongue along his lips in anticipation. He kept his fingers hooked into the panties so that they did not slip back into place as he repositioned himself. His other hand pushed at your inner thigh, his mouth moving nearer until his nose brushed along your clit. Glancing up, Armitage met your face and noticed how wide your eyes were, how your chest rose and fell heavily just as it had that day in First Rogue when he had realized how much he wanted you. His cock throbbed.

 He teased your inner lips with his tongue, tasting you, holding in a swear of desire as your tang coated his tongue. You shivered under him, your body trembling. Armitage grazed his teeth along your flesh. Your quivering grew in intensity, a whimper erupting. That whimper turned into a much louder sound, a moan, as he wormed his tongue into you, sliding a finger closer as well. Feeling you begin to move in for more contact, he withdrew.

 “Please,” you groaned, the heat spread throughout your entire body. He obliged almost immediately, almost as though you need not have begged him at all. You swallowed thickly around the saliva that had gathered in your mouth as your eyelashes fluttered. His tongue was shifting inside of you, this time more deeply. It curled, toyed with you. He noisily slurped, the wet sounds making you more slick. “Fuck!”

 You reached down and tangled the fingers of one hand into his hair, rocked against his mouth. Armitage nudged your clit with his nose, swirled his tongue again then flattened it. He pressed his fingers to the side of your outer lips, tracing ghost-like patterns that journeyed to your cunt, where he moved them into you along with his tongue. Then he paused again, and you just knew it was intentional. When you repeated the previous plea of please, Armitage resumed. His fingers began to scissor  you open, his tongue wriggling between them, darting in and out of you.

 The sounds of you whining urged him on. Armitage was aware of the loud, wet sounds that escaped him with every lick, every nip that he delivered. He knew, too, when he found your g-spot--the breathless gasp, the twitch of your thigh muscles, the way you clenched around his fingers--and he stroked you repeatedly. He lapped at you, focusing on your clit as your slick coated his fingers, dripping down along his hand until he licked at the trail and drew it into his mouth. Your body was thrumming, he could feel it. Knew you were enraptured by the intensity of your orgasm, which you rode out, fucking yourself on his fingers, which he never stopped moving. Your cunt clenching, pulsing around his fingers. He slurped at your cum, drawing more and more of it into his mouth until your movements slowed.

 You shifted, feeling simultaneously spent and enlivened. Armitage moved upwards as well, which made it easier for you to kiss him. You felt his hands wandering your body until he was squeezing your breast. Meanwhile you pawed at the front of his pants, feeling his cock twitch. “I think the game can wait until later,” you purred against him. Armitage nodded, his hungry mouth claiming yours again.

[bauslut]

as you are | vi.

pairing: aaron hotchner x oc 

word count: 5.810k

warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of sexual assault, nudity, oral (receiving), filthy talk, use of pet names, sir kink, slight dom/sub, age gap, cursing, angst, lots and lots of angst, mentions of infant death, allusions to sex, cock warming, crying, marking, nsfw

a/n: this is the sixth chapter of my hotch fic! first off, i want to thank @sapphicstars​ for being my go-to for all my hotch rambles, for being my best friend, & for beta reading the past few chapters! thank you for being such a dear friend, i love you <3 let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the taglist! i hope you guys enjoy, as i’m super proud of this! :’) 

| iv. | v.| 

a drizzle drummed against the window, the sheer cream curtains drawn, rays of light from the lamp casting a warm golden glow all around, illuminating nearly everything. the only sound was the patter of the drops as they collided with the windowpane, and the occasional shuffle of papers, the heating unit only nothing but white noise, drowned out by the rain. 

rowan rivers sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with a loose thread on the patterned comforter, “so, do you want to shower first or would you like me to go?”

“you should go,” the rustle of paper followed his sentence, “you’re the one who’s wearing damp clothes. honestly, i’m not sure why you haven’t showered yet and changed into dry clothes.”

“and what are we going to do about the bed?”

“i’ll just sleep on the floor,” a weary sigh reverberated off the thin walls, “nothing that i haven’t done before.”

“aaron,” rowan rolled her eyes, slipping off the mattress, “do you realize that us sleeping in the same bed is nothing out of the ordinary?”

the unit chief was adjacent to the agent, his knees bent, acting as a prop for the file of the unsub. a notebook lied directly next to his thigh, open, a few notes scribbled into the margins. his coat was hung in the closet, suit jacket slung across a faux leather chair, nothing but his dress shirt and tie covering his top half, the tie loosened so that it wasn’t so tight around his neck. 

aaron’s lips pursed, brow arching, “you don’t recall a single memory from that night, yet that’s the only thing you remember?”

“there’s a lot that’s coming back to me,” rowan shrugged, padding over to her bag, “well since you’re not protesting, i’m about to go use all of the hot water.”

“go ahead,” a chuckle flowed from his lips, light and airy, “i don’t mind a cold shower sometimes.”

“you’re ridiculous,” rowan snorted, “although i’m not shocked that you like cold showers.”

“i’m nowhere near as ridiculous as david rossi,” aaron brought a bottle of water to his mouth, taking a slip, “you realize this was intentional, right?”

“i wasn’t born yesterday,” her voice crescendoed as she entered the bathroom, rising again as she spoke, “if you need me, i’ll be in here.”

aaron mumbled an incoherent strand of words under his breath, cursing david rossi. not only did he have a case to investigate, he also had six members of his team badgering him about a coworker. 

sure, the taunting on the jet was enough to handle. he could fire back, shooting down their teasing remarks with ease, able to maintain his cool, calm, composure. he was in control of the situation, shutting them up in a matter of minutes. nothing that he hadn’t encountered before. 

however, this was a stark contrast. 

aaron was in shambles, his skin flushed, neck painted with pink splotches as he gnawed on his lower lip. her mere presence was enough to have him crumpling to his knees, completely and utterly allured by her beauty. gravitating towards her voice whenever those plush lips parted, hanging onto every word. every interaction leaving one singular question ringing through his mind, clouding his thoughts. 

how much longer was he going to able to keep it together?

“all right,” her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, snapping back to reality, “your turn.”

a fluffy white robe was cinched around her waist, the fabric covering nearly everything but a patch of skin between her breasts, a few marks poking out in the light. they were faded some, yet still prominent.

licking his lips, aaron clambered out of the bed, mustering every fiber in his being to break his gaze away, careful not to stare for too long. 

“that was quick.”

“i didn’t want to waste the warm water,” she responded, ringing a towel through her hair, “i’ll just change in here while you shower.”

“you have no problem stripping when you’re inebriated but the second you’re sober you have second thoughts?” aaron let out a laugh, lips stretching into a broader grin as he noticed the rosy hue spread through her cheeks, “i’m just teasing.”

“i hate you,” rowan muttered, lips curving into a pout.

“i know for a fact that you don’t.”

“i’ll be in bed when you return,” her eyes crinkled shut as her hand deflected a yawn. 

“and when i get out, i’ll be careful not to make any noise. every minute of sleep is precious. we have an unsub to track down when morning comes.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what time is it?” her voice was barely a whisper, her back facing him. 

aaron rolled over, squinting in the low light. the numbers glared back, a sigh exiting his lips, “it’s about two thirty-eight, ro.”

“from the sound of it, you can’t sleep either.” 

“this bed is pretty uncomfortable,” aaron pulled the comforter tighter to his body, nuzzling into the pillow. 

“so are these pillows,” she grumbled, her tone hot with scorn, “why couldn’t we have booked some hotel in the town over?”

“the nearest town is forty minutes away.”

“so why can’t you sleep?” the ruffle of sheets crept into his left ear, “something on your mind?” 

“there’s a lot on my mind ro.”

“there you go again, calling me ‘ro’,” she exhaled, “you need to pick a side, aaron.”

“pick a side?” shifting his body, aaron faced rowan, his brow furrowed, “what are you talking about, rowan?”

“you need to pick a side,” she repeated, her depths nearly gleaming silver, “you can’t just keep leading me on but then pushing me away. it’s so fucking confusing because i like being around you, aaron, i really do. you make me happy and every time that i’m not with you, there’s this part of me that misses you.”

“rowan--” his throat tightened, “it’s just that--”

“oh what?” she challenged, “what is it that’s holding you back? right now, you’re laying close enough to reach out, close enough to touch me, but not too close because there is something in your mind telling you not to. is it the divorce? are you guys even officially separated? from the frequent phone calls you’ve been receiving lately, it seems as if it’s sorting out plans. sorting out plans for daycare, for spending the night. it’s sorting out plans for jack. the two of you don’t even live together and rossi told me that it’s been months since the papers were filed.”

“rowan.” her name was eerily quiet as it tumbled from his lips, yet she continued, her voice rising, inflected with notes of fury, tears threatening to spill over. 

an index finger prodded his chest, digging in, “you may have a cold tone when talking to me, but the second that i walk into a room your eyes gravitate towards my presence. you are keen when i speak and always tell the others to quiet down when i have headaches. you always ask if i’m going to make it home okay. fuck, the other night you let me stay at your apartment. is that just normal behavior to you? what are you so fucking afraid of aaron hotchner? and yes, i know how much you fucking despise being profiled but--”

“for fuck’s sakes,” the words were a growl, gravelly and harsh, “come here.”

fingers crept onto her cheeks, palms fully enveloping the heated skin, pulling her closer, mouths only inches away from one another. 

rowan’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes searched hers, the tip of his nose grazing against the inside of her cheek, “a-are you going to answer my question or not?”

“only if you want me to,” her lashes fluttered as lips brushed against hers, soft and plush.

“please do.”

the fingers glided into her hair, tugging at the roots as mouths collided with hers, a fiery kiss unraveling. aaron pulled her closer, desperate to have her as close as teeth gnashed against teeth, tongue delving into her mouth. a faint taste of cherries lingered, the taste sweet, only making him crave more. rowan’s hands flew to his chest, clutching the fabric of his tee as he sucked on her lower lip harshly, a whine rising in her throat. 

the whimper escalated into a broken moan as his mouth drifted lower, trailing just below her jawline, “a-aaron, please.”

“what?” he paused, voice edged with lust, “you have to use your words, ro.”

a shiver ran down her spine, her body nearly collapsing into his, “we have all night, you don’t have to be hasty.”

“i don’t know how much longer i can hold back ro.”

“god aaron,” rowan panted as he nipped at her neck, “i bet they can hear us--”

“let ‘em,” satisfaction coursed through him as he marveled at the fresh mark, “i want to hear you.”

fingers laced into his silky hair as his mouth drifted, tugging at the roots, “fuck, aaron. just take it off.”

he paused, breaking away, heart thudding, blood roaring in his ears, “do you want me to?”

rowan nodded, her cheeks tainted crimson, “please.”

gently, his hands hooked the hem of the plush crewneck clinging to her frame, gesturing for her to sit up. carefully, he worked it up her arms, pulling it over her head, casting the article of clothing to the floor. 

at the sight of her, he nearly came undone. 

her breasts bounced as her back hit the mattress, a cotton thong hugging her hips. her lips were parted, curved into a shy smile, brunette hair sweeping against the pillow. a silver chain glittered, hanging loosely from her neck, a charm resting against her collarbone. swallowing thickly, his hands gravitated towards her sides, slowly trailing back and forth, savoring the softness of her skin against his. several, tiny scars littered her chest, spanning down to the plane of her stomach, the areas a more pale complexion than the rest. 

“i’m sorry about the scars,” she sputtered, tripping over the words, “they’re really a mood killer and i’m so--”

 “ro,” his tone was firm, yet his voice was so gentle, so quiet, “don’t you dare apologize. you’re beautiful.”

a hand cupped his cheek, her thumb caressing the cheekbone, “you’re the first man who’s ever said that to me and meant it.”

“i’ll say it over and over again. all day, every day. every single second that i’m around you because i fucking mean it, rowan. you’re beautiful.” 

tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over, “t-thank you.”

“no crying,” a chuckle tumbled from his lips, the pad of his thumb wiping away a tear, “i always hate seeing you cry.”

“i won’t cry anymore, promise. you should take this off,” her nails grazed the collar of his tee, “so we’re even.”

without any hesitations, he slipped out of his shirt, lowering his head so that he was at level with her chest, “can i?”

“can you what?”

“well,” his breath fanned against her skin, in close proximity, “you asked me a few nights ago if i wanted to suck on them. can i?”

“god, please.”

his mouth wrapped around her nipple, her back arching into him as his teeth tugged lightly, tongue flicking over the bud. rowan’s nails dug into his back, moans flooding the space, low and breathy, only fueling the lust burning within him. god, he needed more of her. he needed more of her so fucking bad. he needed all of her. 

“a-aaron,” rowan whimpered as his tongue traveled lower, going down her stomach, “i-i need you to touch me. or do something. fuck, i’m so wet and i can fucking feel it. i need you.”

“yeah?” his tone oozed authority, “you need me? how bad? how badly do you need me to touch you?”

“i just fucking need you,” her head thudded against the pillow, jaw slack, “i need you bad, aaron hotchner.”

the sound of his name, his full name, dripping from her lips, nearly sent him over the edge of losing all inhibitions, drunk off lust. 

aaron’s hands sprawled across her thighs, parting them in one swift motion, “if this gets to be too much, let me know. all right?”

“all right.”

settling flat on his stomach, his arms hooked around her thighs, his head level with her thong, “holy fuck. i can see how wet you are.”

“it’s all for you,” her voice faltered, squirming slightly as the tip of his nose brushed against her clit, “i’m so wet for you, sir.”

“sir?” aaron arched a brow, a smug smirk enveloping his features, “i like that, especially coming from your pretty little mouth. do you want me to put you in your place pretty girl? you want me to remind you who’s in charge? do you want me to make you feel good?”

rowan’s throat tightened, her clit practically throbbing through the cotton now, the fabric drenched with her juices, “yes sir. i need you to put me in my place.”

“that’s a good girl,” he hummed, fingers hooking the waistband, “let’s get these off you, hmmm?”

eagerly, rowan shimmied, aaron’s touch sending ripples of euphoria coursing through her body. it was almost as if every single part of her body was on fire, lit up from his words alone. the touch only intensified the scorching desire, consuming her whole. 

his tongue darted out, licking a stripe from her hole to her clit, delving between her folds, a pleased hum rising in his throat as he swallowed.

“i always knew you’d taste this good, pretty girl.”

“god,” she writhed beneath him, instinctively bucking her hips, “please--”

the sentence dissolved into a groan as his mouth connected with her pussy, burying his tongue into it. rowan’s hands tangled into his hair, pulling, only goading him to keep going. to keep ravaging her with his mouth until she was begging to stop. his tongue glided upwards, swirling on her clit, lapping away, desperate to taste every inch. to explore every convex and concave until there was nothing left. nothing left to taste.

“a-aaron,” pulling away, a strand of saliva followed, glittering in the light.

“say my name, say it again pretty girl. and don’t fucking stutter.”

“but your mouth--” she protested, biting her tongue.

a growl rumbled, “i don’t care where my mouth was. say it again.”

hands squeezed her breasts, rolling her nipples between fingers. the pleasure was overwhelming, the waves racking rowan’s body as his lips wrapped around her clit, sucking and darting across it. heat radiated off her cheeks, a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. 

“i-i’m going to cum,” a needy whine rang through the room, bouncing off the walls. 

“you better cum,” he was pinching her nipples now, “you better fucking cum like the good girl i know you are.”

“i-i’m going to,” her thighs twitched, her breathing picking up, “oh my god aaron, i’m going to--”

“that’s a good girl,” aaron’s eyes drank in the sight of her, trembling underneath him, her climax seconds away from unraveling, “you cum like the good girl you are.”

her hips rolled, riding out her orgasm on his tongue, clutching fistfuls of his hair. giving her pussy one final lick, aaron pulled away, her juices coating his mouth, dripping onto his chin. his cock was twitching now, pre-cum dribbling along his length, constrained to the tightness of his boxers. 

“fuck,” rowan cursed under her breath, her chest heaving, strands of hair plastered to her forehead, “aaron--” 

“you hanging in there, ro?” 

her response was a meek nod, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple, “yes.”

“i’m not finished with you yet princess,” aaron’s voice wavered as rowan propped herself up, reaching out, her hand flattening out on the print, fingers squeezing his shaft, “good god, p-please.”

“what?” tilting her head, rowan peered at him through thick lashes, batting them, “what is it, aaron?”

“i need you to fucking sit on it, that’s fucking what.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“what time are we supposed to meet at the station again?” 

“only a couple of hours now,” aaron fought back a yawn, pressing a light kiss to her shoulder blade, “it’s nearly five in the morning, ro.”

bodies were intertwined, a flurry of limbs. the haze of sex lingered, the scent of arousal thick in the air. yet, aaron hotchner felt nothing but pure bliss as he cradled her body in his arms, a warm, cozy feeling seeping into his chest as her bare skin pressed against his. 

shifting ever so slightly, a low grunt rumbled in his throat as his tip plunged further in, his cock coated with a sticky mess of his and her cum, the juices practically leaking down his shaft, pooling onto the sheets.

“aaron, please.”

“please what?” satisfaction coursed through his veins as her voice dripped with a plea, “you gotta use your words with me, rowan. i can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“we’ll be up all night,” rowan whispered, “i-it feels so good.”

swallowing thickly, his hand traveled from her hip to the plane of her stomach, “god, i think i can feel it.”

“i don’t know if i can handle any more.”

“i know baby,” pecking her cheek, aaron pulled out, savoring the sensation of her walls wrapped around his cock, “let’s get you cleaned up, and then maybe we’ll be able to get a few minutes of shut-eye before a phone rings.”

baby. 

rowan’s heart nearly soared at the pet name, the gentle notes inflected in his tone as he uttered it, the way it just sounded so right coming from him. god, was she so vulnerable in this state: enveloped in his tight embrace, nearly melting into his arms, not a single article of clothing adorning her frame.

in the moment, she was nothing but happy, cozy and content under the covers. 

if only she could spend every night like this with him, basking in the intimacy. falling so much harder than she initially thought. sure, aaron hotchner was a handsome man. he was level-headed, carried himself with ease, and was so utterly good-looking. he was a family man, unafraid to express his abundant love for his son. he was compassionate, putting his needs of the team before his own. he was self-less, always thrusting himself into harm's way before any member of his team or civilian. 

however, there was one aspect that rowan couldn’t understand. one particular trait that prevented her from giving herself to him completely. 

why couldn’t aaron hotchner show any vulnerability? why was he a changed man behind closed doors? 

“there,” his voice cut in the silence, “i changed the sheets. we should really rest, ro.”

padding over to the bed, rowan settled into the comforter, allowing space for aaron. within seconds, he was pulling her in, head nuzzling into the crook of her head, stubble grazing soft flesh, “i never really noticed it before, but you wear a butterfly necklace. is there any significance behind that?”

“i thought we were going to sleep hotchner,” rowan let out a hoarse chuckle, “but, to answer your query, i wear it in honor of my older brother. he was stillborn. when i was younger, my mom used to tell me that every single butterfly that i encountered was joshua, and he was just fluttering by to say hello. i wear the necklace to keep him close to my heart, because that’s where he resides. nearly every night, i dream about meeting him. i.. i really wish i could give him a hug sometimes, ya know? but you can’t hug butterflies or else that will kill them.”

fingers intertwined with hers, “you didn’t have to share that with me, ro, but i am so grateful that you did.”

“the thing is,” she paused, exhaling, “i want to share everything with you, aaron.”

lips brushed against her skin, “and i want to hear it all. every memory, every story, every inside joke. i want you to share these experiences and tales with me, rowan. i promise that i’ll listen.”

“what’s wrong with us? we’re not supposed to fall in love, aaron hotchner. you’re my boss. we’re federal agents. if anyone found out, our lives would be obliterated. if strauss ever caught wind of this, oh my god we would be--”

“rowan, listen to me,” the words were grounding,  “i don’t care what happens. there’s a lot of uncertainty in the future, but i know one thing’s for certain. i want anything to do with you, no matter what the cost. i would ask about those damn boots you love so much, but we really need to sleep if we’re going to function at all tomorrow. and i need that brilliant mind of yours if we’re going to get this guy.”

“i was planning on spilling a few more secrets.”

“we have the whole flight home for that,” the laugh vibrated in his throat, “sleep well, rowan. sweet dreams. i’ll be here when you wake up.”

“sweet dreams hotchner,” rowan murmured, lids heavy with exhaustion. 

within hours, beams of light were filtering in through the curtains, stirring the agent awake. groggily, she shifted, rolling over to face aaron, instinctively leaning in to press her lips against his for a warm good morning. 

but he wasn’t there, the mattress nothing but an unforgiving void of cold sheets and broken promises. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“listen,” emily prentiss grumbled, sifting through a pile of bills, “you owe me if i’m right.”

“i won’t,” rossi countered, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he cracked a smug smirk, “this isn’t the fifty i was promised when we made this bet. we shook on it, remember?”’

derek morgan poked his head out a door, “do you guys think they fucked?”

“fucked is such a vulgar word,” garcia snorted, shouldering past morgan, “also, i hate you for putting that filthy image in my head. it’s going to be there all day thanks to you.”

“It’s nothing that we don’t do babygirl,” morgan shot her a wink, “how much do i owe you, rossi?”

“fifty dollars,” rossi beamed, “i prefer fives, if you have them.”

“i don’t think that they had sexual intercourse,” reid cleared his throat, striding towards the elevator, “the infrastructure of this building has extremely thin walls. i would have heard something. do you guys even think that hotch has that stamina to--”

“all right, that’s enough!” morgan coughed, throwing his bag over his shoulder, “where is hotch, anyways? the door is cracked, but i haven’t seen him or rowan leave the room.”

“i’m sure all of our questions will be answered within the hour,” rossi remarked, accepting a wad of cash from morgan, “if we see hotch smile today, then that tells us that they weren’t sleeping last night.”

the team held their breaths as a door opened, rowan stepping out, shutting it softly behind her, “good morning guys.”

“good morning rivers!” prentiss chirped, “how did you sleep last night? don’t tell me he made you sleep on the floor.”

“i didn’t get much sleep at all,” the brunette muttered, “have you guys seen hotch at all this morning?”

“no,” rossi replied curtly, “we thought you two were getting a few more minutes of snuggling before we had to leave.”

rowan’s eyes squeezed shut, her features twisting together with pain, “c-can we please just quit it with the teasing today? just for today?” 

“oh,” prentiss’ face fell, brow furrowing with concern, “i-is everything alright rivers?”

“we didn’t mean to--” morgan began, but was promptly cut off by garcia. 

“maybe you just haven’t had your morning coffee yet buttercup. let’s get you something to eat too. you look like you’ve seen a ghost or something utterly horrifying. caffeine always lifts my spirits.”

as garcia and rowan strolled to the elevator, whispering amongst one another, rossi nudged morgan, “something happened last night between the two of them.”

“should we ask hotch about it?” prentiss inquired, picking a hair off her blazer, “or, should we leave it be?”

“i’ll handle it,” rossi smoothed out his shirt, lugging his back behind him. 

“i have an inkling that our unit chief is not aware of the consequences that come with reckless thinking.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“how are things today kiddo?” rowan flinched as a hand connected with her shoulder, “you’ve barely spoken a word to us all morning. and you’ve listened to every single order hotch has given you. is there something wrong?”

“oh,” rowan blinked, swiveling around in a chair, “um, i’ve just had a morning, i guess.”

letting out a sigh, david rossi slid into the nearest seat, scooting towards the agent, “you forget that i’ve been in this field for years, rowan. i know when something’s up. i won’t prod too much, but i’m worried about you. is it something to do with the case?”

“d-do you think anyone’s going to come over here?” rowan’s gaze flickered towards the group of cops huddled around the control center, chattering away. 

“come,” rossi rose to his feet, offering the brunette his elbow, “let’s go on a walk. there’s not much to do around here anyways. garcia is picking through the laptop, it may take a while.”

graciously, rowan accepted his offer, following him outside of the station into the dreariness of forks. dark, flint grey clouds loomed over, threatening rain. the air was chilly, piercing the agent to the bone as she clung onto rossi. 

“wait,” rossi paused, discarding his coat, “did romeo forget to offer his juliet his coat this morning?”

shoving her arms into the sleeves, rowan shuddered as a breeze rolled through the streets, “romeo is a fucking jackass, that’s what.”

“oh is he now?” rossi mused, “i figured he was the reason why your mood drastically changed. if you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

“a lot,” the agent mumbled, careful to avoid the question. 

“i want to help,” he stated, his tone cool, “but i can’t do that if you don’t let me know what happened, rowan.”

“i-i’m sure it’s no secret that i came from a very, very, horrible place,” rowan began, shrinking inside the coat, boots thudding against the pavement, “the first day i arrived at the bau, it was also no secret that aa-- hotch and i butted heads. there are still times in which he annoys the shit out of me, but that’s besides the point. last night i made a mistake. i allowed myself to be vulnerable and let him see parts of me that i’ve hidden for so long. rossi, i-i, i’ve never allowed a man to touch me like that. not since the night of the stakeout.”

“rowan, you don’t have to continue if it’s only going to--”

“rossi, three people tore me apart. i’m still healing, the wounds are there, and they’re deep and jagged. and i promised myself that i would never let anyone in since that night, and here i am, passively watching as it happens. i let him in, and it was so beautiful and exhilarating. i wish it would have lasted forever but it didn’t. he was gone before i opened my eyes,” sobs racked rowan’s body as her knees buckled, crumpling to the pavement.

a single tear trickled down david rossi’s cheek, his heart nearly splitting into two, “oh rowan, i am so sorry. i am so fucking sorry. you can’t blame yourself for any of it. what happened in columbus was not your fault, rowan.”

“t-thank you,” she wiped her tears, her cheeks flushed, “i’m sorry for breaking down.”

“you don’t have to apologize for that either kiddo,” rossi extended a hand, guiding her to her feet, “you’re human. it’s okay.”

“have you talked to hotch at all today?” 

“not yet,” the agent shook his head, “however, i have some unfinished business to tend to.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

the rain was relentless, falling in sheets as aaron hotchner navigated through the wilderness, droplets streaming down his brow onto his cheeks, blurring his vision. david rossi was not far behind, merely a few feet away. 

after garcia scoured every nook and cranny of the unsub’s personal laptop, she managed to extract essential information regarding his whereabouts. the team had split up into several groups, partnering up with one another to fan out, hoping to close in on an abandoned cabin, deep in the woods of forks. 

with every step, aaron hotchner’s bones seared, desperate for relief. he was exhausted, the lack of sleep no help whatsoever. yet, it was only a matter of hours now before he was back home, all warm and dry, relaxing on the couch with jack, watching his favorite movie.  

only a couple more hours and he would be home. 

“all right dumbass,” hotch’s head whipped around at the harsh tone laced in rossi’s words, “i have some choice words for you.”

“excuse me?”

the agent stopped in his tracks, folding his arms across his chest, “you two had sex, didn’t you?”

“w-what?” hotch sputtered, shock plastered across his features, “rossi, what are you talking about?”

there was a beat of silence before rossi resumed, “you broke down your walls and decided to be intimate with her but then the second the run rose, you were out of the bed, as distant and cold as possible. i know how that shit works, aaron. it’s not a pleasant feeling to wake up and not have the person there.” 

aaron hotchner almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “rossi, come on we have a case-” 

“why would you say all that shit to her, hotch? we all know that you have feelings for her ah-,” rossi held up a hand, challenging aaron to butt in, “don’t interrupt me. it’s okay to have feelings but you know what’s not okay? hurting her because you’re scared. you don’t have to explain your feelings to me but please explain them to her. we all know she doesn’t deserve this at all, hotch. and you of all people should know that.”

“we’re working on a case and the only thing on your mind right now is scolding me for--”

“don’t change the fucking subject, aaron. you need to get yourself together, if not for yourself then for her,” his fury bubbled up as he spoke, the mocha depths blazing an obsidian hue. 

“rossi, you know what that divorce did to me--” hotch stammered, scrambling for formulate some sort of response. some sort of deflection so that the discussion would cease. 

“but look at what you’re doing to her.”

“but rossi i--” hotch was on the verge of retaliation, but rossi pointed a finger at him, jabbing it into his arm, so forceful that aaron nearly yelped. 

“no, aaron. this is for you to explain to her. not to me.” 

*****

rowan rivers hovered over her desk, collecting some final papers, gathering them in a neat pile as members of the team filed into the elevator, silence consuming the behavioral analysis unit of quantico, virginia. everyone was beyond worn, their muscles sore, tense from the washington atmosphere, their minds weary from the heavy burdens of the job. 

however, there was a far heavier burden weighing on rowan’s mind. 

the click of shoes meeting tile caught rowan’s attention, a familiar pair of slacks appearing in her peripheral vision.

“you’re right rowan.”

aaron hotchner stood before her, his coat draped over an arm, bag slung across his shoulder. even in the light, rowan couldn’t help but notice the faint purple rings forming underneath his eyes, the thick lashes almost hiding them. the wrinkles lining his forehead and eyes were more prominent, deepened by hardships and loss. inky black hair that was gelled over only hours before was unkempt, strands of hair falling into his forehead. 

rowan wanted nothing more to throw her arms around him, holding him close for an embrace. 

but, she felt as if she couldn’t. not after what he did. 

the agent met his gaze, her lips pursed with confusion, “aaron, what are you talking about?”

he shifted, swaying from side to side, fumbling with his hands, “you’re right about me. i’m afraid. i’m afraid of falling for you and not being able to control it. i hate not being in control ro, but god do i lose control every single second i’m around you.”

“aaron we don’t have to--”

he shook his head, lower lip trembling, “no i want to talk about this, ro. you told me to pick a side and i pick you.”

it was almost as if a weight was lifted from her shoulders. there was no more confusion, no more unrest. no more tears to be shed pondering over the “what ifs.” he was fessing up, finally answering the queries that kept her up late at night, losing hours of sleep. 

he didn’t hate her. 

he was falling in love with her. 

tears welled up in his eyes, tinging them red as he choked down sobs, burying his face in his hands. carefully, rowan’s hands enveloped his wrists, bringing them away from his face, “i’m just as afraid, aaron. but it’s okay. we’re in this together, just two people falling for one another.”

 the second rowan’s hand cupped his cheeks, cradling his face in her hands, aaron melted, collapsing completely, “rossi confronted me about it all. he said i needed to get my shit together because it was hurting you. i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i can be a little bit dense sometimes and a bit of an asshole.”

“a bit dense and a bit of an asshole?” rowan teased, the pad of her thumb wiping away a tear, “that sounds a little bit like you, aaron.”

“come home with me tonight. no hiding feelings. no intoxication. i just want you in my arms,” aaron murmured, his mouth nearly inches away from hers.

his heart skipped a beat as the corners of her lips curled into a bright, radiant grin, her head bobbing, “i’d like that. i’d like that very much.”

within hours, she was clinging to his frame, her head nuzzled against the fabric of his tee, light snores echoing through the room. his hands were threaded into her hair, subconsciously playing with the silky brunette locks as he glanced through paperwork, careful not to disturb her one bit.

his phone vibrated against the wood of the nightstand, piquing his interest. the caller i.d. was all too familiar. 

“hotchner.”

“hey hotch it’s jj, i know that we all just made it home, barely settling in for the night but we were just invited on a case. from the sound of it, it’s quite urgent. the governor wants us to fly out there as soon as possible,” the blonde’s voice crackled on the speaker. 

“and where’s this case?” a hand gravitated to rowan’s, lacing their fingers together as she stirred, bleary from sleep. 

“columbus. columbus, ohio.”

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

tagged: @sapphicstars​ @colorlessfl0wers​ @inlovewithaaronhotchner​ @lovebodymindstuff​ 

[sophielovesbarnes]

All or nothing, chapter three.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Winchester!reader

Warnings: Mention of death, fluff, drinking.

Author note: Took me a while to write this one, I had a horrible writer’s block, and yesterday I managed to break it.

I hope you enjoy the chapter, let me know if you want to be tagged.

Requests are open.

Gifs are not mine.

Masterlist

Chapter two

Chapter three.

Why the hell did you have to wait until the last minute to start cleaning? You mentally slap yourself and sigh before getting back to scrub the floor; you wanted to give Spencer a good image and for what you have learned so far, he is a neat person and likes very clean spaces, which is why you were in the middle of an intensive cleaning session. 

You aren’t much of a messy person, but you are also in college, so there is unfolded laundry on the couch, empty food containers on the kitchen, dirty dishes in the sink, and shoes on the floor, and you have had a hell of a week, after meeting Spencer on Tuesday, you spent all night on the moon, then on Wednesday you had to spend all the afternoon doing homework, so now you had a lot of work to do, including packing to go back home after school on Friday. 

“Come one Y/N, stop procrastinating and get to it.” 

Three hours later the kitchen and the living room are spotless, your laundry is folded and stacked on your closet, there is nothing on the floor, your suitcases are ready and the lasagna is in the oven, and there is freshly baked garlic bread on the table. 

You admire your work as you rub your wet hair with a towel, trying to absorb as much water possible so you can blow dry it, then you go back to your room so you can find something decent to wear in your closet, you end up choosing the blue summer dress Sam gave you for your birthday last year, you had been saving it for a special occasion and this was definitely one.

When you are ready you finish setting the table and at 6 o’clock on the dot your doorbell rings. 

***

Spencer has changed a total of seven times in a lapse of fifteen minutes, he can’t remember the last time he felt this nervous.

He likes you, he really does, and it shouldn’t be possible to like someone this much in such a short span of time, but you are the most gorgeous girl he has ever been with, and you are also funny, and kind, and smart, and as hard as it seems you both share so many interests in common. 

But at the same time you are like him you are also quite the opposite, you take him out and far away from his comfort zone, and it is both exciting and terrifying, but it makes his mind wander and worry, will he be enough for you? And if he is, if you manage to get into a relationship, how will you make it work? With him living 576 miles away from you, and you both having such different lifestyles. 

He also has Maeve on mind, he couldn’t keep her safe, and he has seen the families and loved ones of his time getting in the crossfire, he saw it with Hotch, when Hayley got killed by Foyet, and he is terrified by the idea of something happening to you because of him. 

He stops himself and tries to shake the shiver from his spine, he shouldn’t be worrying so much at this point, he brings himself back to the hotel room and stares at the mirror and finally decides what to wear, the blue sweater with the matching tie will do, he tries to tame his hair with his fingers and then he leaves his hotel room, he is lucky enough to have both Morgan and Rossi out so he won’t be asked to explain something he hasn’t finished understanding. 

The address you gave him is quite close to the hotel he is staying in so he decides to walk, the city is nice and he can see why do you like it so much, sooner than he expected it he finds himself in front of the apartment complex that you indicated, he builds himself with courage and he rings the bell, the gate opens and he enters and calls the elevator on the fourth floor he gets down and knocks on your door.

When you open he is astonished, you look incredibly beautiful, you are wearing your hair down and curled, and the blue dress you are wearing hugs your body perfectly, and just like that he confirms one more time how much he likes you.

“Spencer! Hi, come on in.” He enters, closing the door behind him and you give him a smile.

“I-I got you these.” He gives you the bouquet of gerberas he bought in the way and he sees your eyes sparkle as you receive them.

“They are so pretty! Thank you.” You head to the sink, fill a vase with water and then you place the flowers on the kitchen bar. “Please take a seat, can I get you anything to drink?” 

“Water is fine.” He answers admiring your house, it’s small and cozy and all the pictures on the walls make it feel like a home. “It’s a nice place.” 

“Thank you, I owe it to Dean, like pretty much everything in my life.” The timer rings, giving you the cue to turn off the oven and take out the lasagna, you put on your gloves and take it, and then put it on the heat proof mat you had placed on the table. “I hope you are hungry.”  

“Starving.” He replies with a soft smile. 

You cut the lasagna and serve it on both of your plates, Spencer gives you a soft smile thanking you, you sit in front of him and raise your glass.

“To us.” He imitates your action and clinks his wine glass with yours. “Cheers.”

“Did you know that “Cheers” originated from the old French word chiere which meant “face” or “head.” By the 18th century, it meant “gladness,” and was used as a way of expressing encouragement.” He rambles. “And toasting is thought to come from sacrificial libations in which a sacred liquid was offered to the gods in exchange for a wish, or a prayer for health. It was Greek and Roman tradition to leave an offering to the gods, including alcoholic beverages, during celebrations and commonly after a death. In Greek mythology, the god of wine, Bacchus, was often toasted.”

“I did, and did you know that in Medieval times, glasses were clinked and people cheered loudly to ward off any demons or evil spirits? And that there are theories that say that it was done to avoid poisoning?” You reply, and he is fascinated to be able to talk with someone that is actually interested on this kind of facts and willing to talk about them with him. 

You take a sip of your wine and smile at him, and he could swear his heart jumps every time you do it.

“Bon appetit.” 

He takes the first bite and then looks at you with his eyes wide open.

“This is really good.”

“Thanks, it’s my mom’s recipe. She used to have a restaurant and people would make lines to try her food.”

“Are those your parents?” He asks pointing to the picture of your parent’s wedding, it was your favorite photograph of them, your mom looks beautiful in her white dress and she seems so happy and your dad is looking at her, and you can see the love in their eyes. 

“Yeah.” You reply, nostalgia running through your veins. 

“It’s a nice picture, do they live in Kansas as well?”

“No.” You take a deep breath and then continue. “They are gone.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it has been a long time.” You sigh and try to keep your emotions on the line. “They died in a car crash when I was eleven.”

“That’s why I owe Dean so much, when the accident happened Adam was already in college, but I was still little, and my aunt Sabine tried to take me back to Minnesota, but Dean wouldn’t have it, he filled to be my legal guardian and he went to trial against my aunt and he won, then he sold his bachelor’s apartment and bought a house for the both of us and he became both my mom and my dad.”

“He sounds like a great brother.”

“He is, I’m lucky to have him, and Sam and Adam, they are quite amazing.” You take the picture from your first competition and show it to him. “These are my brothers, Dean is carrying me, Sam is on the left and Adam is on the right.”

“You look really happy.”  He comments.

“Yeah, I was, it was probably one of the best days of my life.” You reply, filled with joy of reliving the memory, the moment when your team was announced champion, the proud looks on your brothers’ eyes, the screams of excitement coming from your teammates, and the intense feeling of joy running through your veins. “It was my first all star competition, man, you should've seen Dean, he bragged about it for months.”

“For how long have you been a cheerleader?”

“I started with ballet and gymnastics when I was 3 and I joined the squad at my elementary school as soon as I got in.”

“What do you like about it?”

“Well, I love dancing and I love sharing joy, cheerleading lets me do both.”

“Are you planning to do it professionally?” He asks.

“I don’t think so, to be honest I think I would rather develop my career as a psychologist, I would also like to have a dance academy, but I think that would be an extra.” You take a small pause to admire the soft color of his eyes and then ask. “What about you? Did you always know that you wanted to be an FBI agent?”

“Not really, I knew that I wanted to help people but I wasn’t sure how, then when I was 22 I decided to join the FBI.” 

“Have you ever considered doing anything else?”

“A part of me would like to teach, but I don’t think I do good in front of many people.” 

“Well being honest, I loved hearing you.” You see his cheeks blush and he looks away for a moment.

“Thank you.”

You finish eating while doing small talk, you ask him about his career, his team, you see how enthusiastic he gets when he talks about them, when he tells you how they became his family.

He also tells you about his mom, about how she slowly deteriorated and how much it scares him to get sick like her. When he is speaking you place your hand on top of his, he gives you a small smile and then changes the subject. 

“Tell me about your brothers.”

“Well, Dean’s the oldest, and he has always taken care of all of us, he is the most loving person I know. He taught me how to ride a bike and helped me to do my homework every day until highschool. 

He is a mechanic, he has his own workshop where he does restorations on vintage cars, he was also a soldier, he enlisted after 9/11, that’s where he met Castiel, he was an army doctor, he crushed on him but he was already married to Lisa, and she was expecting Ben, my nephew, then he came back home but he and Lisa didn’t work together as a couple anymore, they tried to stay together for Ben, but they weren’t happy, so they got divorced and stayed as friends, then like fifteen years later Dean got in a small car accident and the doctor that got his case was Castiel, they started dating very little after that, and they got married three years ago, this year they adopted a little boy, Leo, he is the love of their lives.” 

While you are talking Spencer looks at you with attention, and your hand never leaves his. 

“Sam’s the smart one, he studied law at Stanford and he is now a junior partner on one of the biggest firms on Kansas, he is married with Jess, they have two daughters, Marie and Elizabeth, and Adam studied Mechanical Engineering at KU, he works on the workshop with Dean, and he is expecting a baby with Jo, who is basically my sister, they used to hate each other they were always jumping at the other’s neck, so it was definitely a surprise.”

“Do you miss living in Kansas?”

“Yeah, I do, sometimes I get very lonely here, I have friends and all but, it’s not the same as having my family here, that’s why I love vacations so much, because I can go back home and see them.”

“Yeah, I get the feeling.”

Talking to him is easy, when you are with him you don’t feel the need to keep your guard up, you feel like you can trust him with anything, when you talk he listens with attention, he actually listens, not like other boys you have met, that only wait for you to stop talking so they can focus the conversation on them, and when he talks you are fascinated, he is insanely smart and well educated, you have the most interesting conversation you have had in your entire life , and time seems to fade away, when you notice it, it’s already past midnight.

He helps you to clean, after you finish you walk him to the door, you are standing under the threshold when you both start to speak at the same time, you chuckle softly and then let him start.

“Thank you for having me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Then you stay in silence, and you allow yourself to get lost in his eyes, slowly you get closer to him, so close you can feel his soft breath over your mouth, he hesitates for a minute but then he places his hand on your waist and then you close the distance between your lips and his. 

Kissing you has to be the most exhilarating feeling he has ever had, it is like his lips were meant to be in yours, you run your fingers through his hair and then he pulls you closer to him, making your chest rest on his, your lips move softly and in synchrony his his. 

He wonders if you can feel his heart beating, because it seems like it may abandon his chest at any moment.

Every shadow of doubt fades away, at that very moment he makes the decision that he is not willing to let you slip away from him, he will fight to keep you next to him, he will do whatever it takes.

“Good night Doctor Reid.”

Tags: @that-aesthetic-wannabe

[here-qu33r-and-in-fear]

Drv3 Bnha crossover Idea!

*very long in my opinion*

Izuku grew up in the Komeada orphanage, along side Kokichi, and Maki. After awhile the trio meet the founder of the orphanage’ son, Nagito Komeada, who though most seem crazy for most kids, the trio look past that and find that he is very nice. Nagito starts coming out to play more often after meeting them. One day, The Komeada couple had to go over sea’s for a while leaving Nagito, who was to sick to go, to stay with his friends at the orphanage. Weeks later news arrived that Nagito’s parents died in a plane crash and were no survivors. Nagito kept trying to look on the bright side of things, like the fact that he still had his dog, Izuku, Kokichi, And Maki still with him. A month later the staff receive news that if they don’t find a new owner(s) the facility will be forced to shut down and all of the kids will be forced into foster homes. They had at least 6 months to find a new owner. During that time, Nagito, Izuku, and Kokichi’s seperation anxeity started to eat away at them. Maki was trying to convince the 9 year old (nagito) and the two 6 year old’s (Kokichi and Izuku) That they wouldn’t leave each other’s side no matter what. With that Idea, Kokichi Makes D.I.C.E, and everyone he was close with at the orphanage joined, Except Maki. Maki thought it was over dramatic so she didn’t join. A few weeks later Nagito was out in the front when His dog bursts through the somehow open door and bounds onto the street. Nagito see’s the oncoming truck and thinks he still has enough time to get his dog out of the street if he runs. Unfortunately, he was a slow runner, and a very quiet kid, the large speeding truck does not see the small, puppy and hit him, not even slowing down afterwards. Nagito, starts screaming and bawling on the side walk. Maki, Izuku, Kokichi and the current staff rush out at the sound of him screaming and see the no longer living dog in the street. They all go to comfort Nagito and some of them were crying as well. A week later a funeral is held for the dog, and the parents, even though they had no bodies for the parents. 

Nagito, develops vitiligo, causing him to loose a lot of his pigment in his skin and hair. Its now the 5th month and the employees were starting to loose hope in the possibility that the orphanage would be able to continue so they started to look at families for the children. 6th month, and no one has bought the building. Some of the Kids started saying that one of the employees should try and buy the building, But Izuku knew that it wouldn’t work. So, Izuku started taking random things that reminded him of his friends at the orphanage, like dice for Kokichi, A four leaf clover charm for Nagito (who had really good luck) and a red scrunchie for Maki. He also started making/buying things for them as well. He got Nagito(who is 10 now) a pocket chain, Kokichi a checkered scarf and he also started calling kokichi Kichi, and made Maki a bunch of bracelets and the nickname Maki-roll. Soon everyone called her that in a time span of 6 hours. Maki would wear the braclets all the time. Maki also would be the one to comfort the smaller children(She is now 8 she was 7 when she met Nagito). Kokichi would always wear his scarf unless he was eating, he didn’t want to get it dirty. Nagito started wearing it as often as he could seeing as he had very little jeans to wear. 

On the last day, They all made a scrap book of all their memories at the Komeada orphanage. All of the kids got to decorate someone else’s cover. Nagito decorated some kid named Gundahm’s who had a fondness for animals, so that was the theme that Nagito went with. Izuku decorated Kokichi’s, which was a bunch of purple, glitter, checkered mess, Kokichi loved it so much he started crying. Maki did one for Izuku, which was covered in red, green, white glitter and pictures of music stuff, rose stickers, and cat stickers on it. Kokichi decorated Nagito’s, It had a bunch of green glitter, cards stickers, four leaf clover stickers, and white sparkly border made out of ribbon. A girl named Mikan made Maki-rolls, It had red glitter, navy blue lining, and little pictures of flowers on it. It was kind of messy but not as messy as Mikan, she was covered in glitter, ribbons, and stickers. After they all finished their scrap-books, they all left to who ever adopted them.

 Maki was Adopted by A tall man who worked for the government and thought she had potential. Izuku was adopted by a loud couple who were aspiring musicians. Kokichi was taken in by a strict looking lady who acted kinda mean to the kids including Kichi. Nagito was adopted by one of the staff members who was close to him. Kokichi’s parent was actually abusive (I’m so sorry! I love you Kichi!) and just needed someone to clean the house seeing as her husband just left her. Izuku’s parents were very nice but after a year he woke up in an ally way. He was later found by Inko who took him to her house and cleaned him up. She took him to the police department to find there were no records of anyone named Izuku. She adopted him, Gave him the name Izuku Midoriya offically and took him to the doctor to find out what his quirk was. Izuku, not knowing what a quirk was, Inko assumed he was cut off from outside news and was raised in a no quirk zone. After finding out what quirks were he was super excited to see if he had one. He didn’t He was ok with that but his new friend he made a week before the Appointment, Katsuki Bakugo, was not Okay with that. And there started the bullying(age 6). Everything basically goes as it does in cannon from there. Maki was being trained to be an assassin, so she must mask emotions, be strong, smart, and know how to fight. She was already smart and strong so she enjoyed the challenge. Nagito,(im sorry) was raised as a loved child when the lady was home after dinner and on the weekends, other than that he was left with a baby sitter most of the time. One day, while on they’re way to the doctors for his monthly check up, seeing as he was a very sick child, they got into a car crash and the worker died. Nagito ended up in a foster home after that sense nobody would adopt a sickly expenceve 12 year old. 

After all of the danganronpa’s Nagito, Kokichi, and Maki were all reunited. 3 months After getting out of the hospital for the post-trauma they (meaning the whole Dr cast) wake up in an unfamiliar setting. (Just a side note but the dead from thh are alive, it was also a video game, it wasn’t real for them. Junko doesn’t exist btw) They were a couple streets down from a huge building so they decide to go to the building to ask where they are. It was the weekend so some of the ua students were heading out to go places. that also just so happens to include Midoriya. Midoriya, Seeing Kokichi first he goes wide eyed but then looks away because he didn’t know if it was really Kokichi. But before he could look away, Kokichi turns around because he felt Izuku staring goes wide eyed as well before shouting at Nagito to see if he sees Izuku as well. Nagito says yes, also wide eyed and all three of them start running at each other for a hug they all burst into happy tears and fall onto their knees. Maki being slightly behind everyone minus kokichi and nagito, hears them running away and turns to look at whats happening, sees Izuku, and says “Holy shit!” not, quietly either. Now the rest of the dr cast turns to see what all the commotion is about to see maki running at the emotional, hugging group of boys on the floor, Kaito, scared she was going to murder them, takes a step foward and was about to yell “MAKI-ROLL, WAIT!” before seeing that she also starts cry hugging, leaving the rest of the bnha and dr cast really confused and shocked. 

Thats all I have! 

[hatsukeii]

Pt.2 to the Karasuno boys during the coronavirus quarantine, this time it’s gonna be Kags, Yams, and Hinata w their s/o, which ig is gonna be you in a few situations.

🌊Kageyama🌊

- “How much milk do we have at home mom?”

- “Fuck, we’re running out of milk”

- “She really expects us to understand this shit? This is Zoom not fucking Khan Academy, she’s not that great.”

- Probably one of the bulk buyers Tsukishima shits on.

- Realises he only has one carton of normal milk at home.

- So this boy goes out and buys like 4 cartons of different flavoured milks. Strawberry? Chocolate? Banana? Melon? Yes.

- And do you think he doesn’t finish it? Ohohoho you are mistaken. This bitch somehow finishes all of them in the span of a week.

- Tries to write notes during online classes.

- Fails miserably.

- Does not understand a thing the teacher is saying.

- Would rather die than admit that to Hinata.

- He’s not allowed out of the house but you are.

- Which means study dates are a frequent event during the quarantine.

- You’re now his personal English and Science tutor.

- “What the fuck is a mitochondria?”

- “It’s the powerhouse of the cell sweetie.”

- Is so fond of you he voluntarily gives you some of the flavoured milk he fought middle aged women to buy, but he obviously would try to cover up that soft spot he has for you.

- “I had to snatch it from the fridge before a Karen who bought five of the same flavour did, you better finish it and grow the fuck taller.”

- Volleyball “practise” in his room after the tutoring.

- He teaches you how to do basic shit like receive, serve, and of course, set.

- You fail miserably all the time, just saying. But good news is, that doesn’t matter. None of it does.

-All Kageyama lives for is that cheeky smile every time you fuck up a move. That victory dance you do after you finally succeed. The tight hugs you give him, thanking him for teaching you how to play volleyball. It’s all those little things that he absolutely adores. He wouldn’t exchange you for the world.

🍃Yamaguchi🍃

- “Do you have your hand sanitiser?”

- “Put your mask on, stay safe!”

- “You’re out of masks? I’ll be right there, I have five extra boxes”

- Extra cautious about the virus because his immune system isn’t the best.

- Has a stash of food at home, ready to be cooked anytime.

- Isn’t allowed to go anywhere farther than the neighbourhood.

- Hates online classes with his whole heart, but still attends them to maintain his grades.

- Actually really smart, takes very nice notes in class.

- Anything you want or need, he’s gonna get it for you.

- Meat buns? No problem. Boba? Easy. Hotel? Trivago.

- Since you guys are good at different subjects, you go to his house to help him with English, Philosphy, and Biology.

- And he comes over to yours to help you with Maths, Chemistry, and History.

- And he surprisingly, likes subtle dark political humour. A lot.

- “What is covalent bonding supposed to be the fuck?”

- “Think about it like communism.”

- Yamaguchi is actually a very, very good teacher.

- (Way better than when you asked Tsukishima for help, but don’t tell him that or he’ll get salty.)

- Guess what ya boy Yams can cook to save both your lives.

- Every time he walks out of your house you’re equipped with five new quarantine recipes to make for your entire family.

- After every “tutoring” session, comes the movie session.

- You introduce him to classic movies and go all the way back to watch films from the 80s-90s.

- It’s been about 3 weeks and you’ve managed to watch Pulp Fiction, Dead Poet’s Society, Breakfast At Tiffany’s, Forrest Gump, Top Gun, all those oldies.

- Movie sessions consist of cuddles, forehead kisses, hair braiding, more kisses, tickle battles, and falling asleep on Yamaguchi, your head snuggled in his chest while he plays with strands of your hair, thinking about how lucky he is to have someone like you that cares.

☀️Hinata☀️

- “Hinata get your ass back to bed.”

- “It’s 5am dude lessons start at 8am go back to sleep.”

- “I swear I love you but I will block you.”

- Good luck getting his jumpy ass to sit the fuck down.

- Constantly waiting for the quarantine to end. (Spoiler alert: it’s gonna take about a month or two more.)

- Since he’s so used to getting up at 5am for volleyball training and school, his mental alarm clock wakes him up at 5am too, even though all he has to do is go on a website.

- Tries to catch up in class while calling Kageyama.

- Fails. Terribly.

- Doesn’t understand a thing the teacher says, even after bombarding her with questions.

- Probably doesn’t think he needs a mask, so you force him to wear one if he ever had to go out.

- Isn’t allowed out of the house at all because apparently someone in his neighbourhood was infected and diagnosed with COVID-19.

- You’re not allowed to go over either, so you send him all your notes, hoping he doesn’t fail his classes.

- Video calls you to ask for homework answers.

- “I’m not giving you the answers, but you can take my notes, or ask me if you need help.”

- You both have Netflix Party on your computers, so you use that to talk while binging Disney movies at ungodly hours.

- Secretly cries himself to sleep because oh my god this boy misses you so fucking much seriously.

- Gets made fun of by Natsu for being a pansy.

- “Shoyou, it’s not like your girlfriend’s dead, whatcha crying for?”

- Probably stares at photos of you in his phone, reimagining how it feels like for you to be by his side.

- Plans to take you out on as many dates as he can once this whole thing is over. Cuddles and kisses for hours are musts.

[lovemesomerafael]

Best That You Can Do                Chapter 4:                                   While Mike Was Dead

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Read it on AO3

William Dodds is destroyed by the death of his son.  His devastation is so comlete that he finds himself leaning on Ingrid, of all people.  When he picks her and Matthew up from the airport, he immediately clings to her as if his very sanity depends on it.  As Mike’s mother, she alone has any hope of even approaching an understanding of the depth of William’s pain.  She ends up sitting him down to one side of the baggage claim area and holding him while he completely dissolves in her arms.  She motions for Matthew to get their bags, seeing Matthew’s embarrassment and knowing that William wouldn’t want to be this undone in front of their other son.  Their only son, now.

The funeral is the single most agonizing moment of William Dodds’s life.  He tries not to feel.  He tries to simply shut himself down so that he can hold it together in front of the gathered brass and officers, but it costs him dearly.  He ages ten years in the span of one unimaginably painful day. When it’s over, he goes home, gets as drunk as humanly possible, and sleeps for two days straight.

************

Kaitlyn is alone with her pain.  She and Eleanor can share their sadness, but only Kaitlyn knows what she’s lost.  What she’s thrown away.  She has no right to grieve, but tell that to her heart.  The only thing worse than her grief is her aching, crushing guilt.  She could have made his last days happy.  Instead, she’d…  She can’t even get close to thinking about that yet.  

She goes to his funeral. Of course she does; she’s Mike’s father’s right-hand man, and she’s expected to support the Chief in his time of loss.  What she can’t do is acknowledge that it’s her loss, too.  To anyone.  Because she doesn’t deserve to.  The sea of uniforms, the somber beauty of the honors done a fallen officer, would have hurt her soul anyway.  But standing there, pretending to be a casual acquaintance, reeling with emotions she can’t begin to understand, she feels as though she’s polluting the ceremony.  She feels as though she killed Mike herself.

Afterward, she feels duty bound to say some word of comfort to Mike’s squad and his Lieutenant.  She’d rather be tossed naked into a live volcano, but she does it anyway.  For Mike.

“Lieutenant Benson, I’m Kaitlyn Myers, from Chief Dodds’s staff-“

“Of course.  We’ve met.  I remember.”

“I just wanted to give you my condolences.  I’m very sorry for your loss.  And your squad’s.”

“Thank you.  It’s a loss for the whole Department.  He’s irreplaceable.”  Olivia Benson isn’t crying, but she isn’t not crying, either.  Kaitlyn is glad for Mike that he has good people, who treated him well, to shed honest tears for him.

“Yes, he is.  He’s fortunate to have a Lieutenant who recognizes his worth.”

Lieutenant Benson swallows hard and nods.

“Kaitlyn, I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Sonny Carisi,” says the officer next to Benson, reaching out a hand for Kaitlyn to shake and pulling her a bit to the side.  

“I remember,” she says.  Carisi’s not a man you forget.  “Mike talked about you.  You were close.  I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.”  Sonny leans down a little and steps forward so that he can speak too quietly for anyone else to hear.  “We talked about you, too.  He really liked you.”

Kaitlyn feels gut-punched.  She can’t know it, but she looks gut-punched, too, which makes Sonny immediately regret saying anything.

“I didn’t make that very easy,” she whispers.  She’s biting the inside of her mouth to keep from crying.

Sonny pulls her further away from the knot of people around the squad.  “C’mon. You can’t blame yourself for that. He, uh, told us what happened. What the problem was.”

“The whole squad?”  Kaitlyn squeaks.

“No, no, just me and my husband.  In confidence.  He was just lookin’ for some advice how to make things work with you.”

“Shit…”  Kaitlyn wipes tears, and Sonny hands her a tissue.  His kindness makes her cry harder.

“Listen to me.  If you’re beating yourself up because you think you made him unhappy just before… Don’t.  You couldn’t know.  And you need what you need.  Besides, he might have been miserable, but he wasn’t unhappy.  If you know what I mean.  We all enjoy a little romantic challenge.”

Carisi’s slight grin, and the muted glint in his eye, make Kaitlyn think his husband is a very lucky man.  She also thinks he’s about the nicest guy she’s ever met for saying these things, untrue as they are.  

“Thank you, Detective.”

“Sonny.”

“Sonny.”  

“Coming with us to the wake?  I’ll buy you a drink.”

“No.  Thank you, but I don’t feel like I even belong here.  I certainly don’t belong there.”

“The hell you don’t. Come.”

Kaitlyn shakes her head sadly.  “I can’t.  But thank you.  Thank you for everything.  And again, I’m truly sorry you lost a friend.”

“So did you.  Don’t think I don’t know that.”  

There’s a wet spot from Kaitlyn’s tears on Sonny’s lapel after he hugs her.  Not a perfunctory hug, either.  He gives her a tight, full-contact, several second hug that says more than his words ever could that he doesn’t blame her for the things she did to Mike.  No wonder Mike was close to this guy.

She turns to go, and finds herself face to face with a good-looking, dark-haired man standing right behind her.  She stammers an apology and moves to go around him.

“This is Kaitlyn, Rafael.  Make her come to the wake.”  

As Kaitlyn turns to look at Sonny, he nods to her and steps back into the impromptu receiving line that’s formed around the SVU squad.  She turns back to the man he’s just called Rafael. “I, uh…”

“The squad is riding together in a limo.  I’ll take you in my car,” he says.  He has a bedroom voice and there’s a deep kindness in his eyes. Something clicks and Kaitlyn realizes this must be ADA Rafael Barba, Sonny Carisi’s husband.

“Thank you, that’s very kind, but I really can’t.”

Kaitlyn starts to mumble some garbled nonsense about having to get going, but it slows down and sputters out as Rafael simply looks at her with a vaguely amused smirk.  

“What?”  She finally asks.

“Ms. Myers, Detective Carisi just asked me to bring you to the wake. Which means you’re coming if I have to put you in the trunk.”  

Kaitlyn blinks for a few seconds.  She can’t help but smile a little at that.  “His wish is your command?”

“Something like that.”

**************

Chief Dodds wakes up on the morning of the third day after his son’s funeral, puts on his suit, and goes to work.  He tells himself that, although he’s broken now, he still has to do the job.  People are depending on him.  

It’s his anger that gets him moving.  Somewhere in the fog of the last two days, he’s cried himself out. Not that he won’t still cry over losing Mike – he will – but he’s sobbed out the first, overflowing shocked sadness. Now comes the long, draining melancholy. But another emotion has bloomed inside him as he slept.  Rage. He’s mad at the entire world.  He hates that they’re all just getting on with things, as if the gaping hole Mike’s left in the world doesn’t make everything else completely fucking useless and meaningless.

When he gets to the office, the first thing he sees is the pity on Eleanor’s face.  He practically snarls at her to knock it the hell off.  

“We’re not gonna be sitting around here like it’s a morgue. We still have a job to do.  Pull yourself together.”

She actually physically flinches, and the only thing he feels is a tiny twinge of satisfaction.  He wants to hurt people.  He wants to break things and howl in anguish and tear the planet apart.  And when he gets to his office and sees Kaitlyn there, doing some damn pointless thing with files full of worthless bullshit, he sees red. Look at her, fucking bustling around like he didn’t just bury his son.  Like she didn’t spend the last weeks of Mike’s life slapping him across the face and stomping his heart.

“Get out,” Dodds spits.  He doesn’t think.  He doesn’t hesitate a second.  He’s not even all the way in his office yet when he starts firing at her like he’s a belt-fed automatic weapon.  

She turns around and looks stunned.  “I-“

“Get out.  Get your things and get out.  I never want to see your face again.  I can’t fire you, although you better believe that’s what I’d do if I could.  But you’re out of here as of now and you’re on administrative leave until I can find a place to stuff you.”

“Sir-“

“Who the fuck do you think you are?  I’ll tell you who.  You’re no one!  You’re nothing!  You’re a fucking ice queen, a conceited bitch who was never anywhere near good enough for my son, yet you thought you had the right to -   Why are you just standing there?  Get your lousy ass out of my office!”

“Sir, I-“

“Get OUT!”  Dodds screams, and gets another little zing of terrible satisfaction at the fear on her face.  An evil, bloody part of him enjoys the way she scurries out of his office like a kicked dog.  He’s crying again, but it’s only a few hot, furious tears that are quickly dried. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized just how deeply he abhors that woman.  He makes a note to ensure she gets transferred to the worst posting he can find.  One where her career will wither on the vine and she’ll never be heard from again, the cold-hearted cunt.  

************

Six Months Later:

Kaitlyn’s standing behind her supervisor, watching her demonstrate yet another bloated, redundant process she insists Kaitlyn follow.  It seems like she senses Chief Dodds just before he enters the huge room, his meticulously-coiffed head visible above the walls of a field of cubicles.  She tries to hide.  She bends her head down and leans in, quickly thinking of questions to ask that will let her stay concealed behind the walls of her supervisor’s cube until he’s gone.

Except that he’s there for her.  She hasn’t seen or spoken to him since the day he fired her – technically, it was a transfer, but they both know what it was – and when she learns he’s there for her, she’s terrified.  She’s still raw and bleeding from the things he said to her that day. Mostly that’s because she was already saying those things to herself and she hasn’t stopped since.  It’s been a rough six months since Mike died.

What’s weird is that, when they get into the conference room he’s commandeered, there are tears in his eyes as he kindly asks her to sit down. It’s a very small conference room, with a little round table and four chairs, and no room for anything else.  Kaitlyn starts to shake.  She has absolutely no idea what’s coming, but she knows in her bones she’s about to get knocked down again.  She sighs.  She deserves it.  She actually hopes it gives the Chief a little bit of comfort.  She’s always cared about him, and she’s never held what he did against him.  She’d have done the same thing.  Maybe she wouldn’t have come back half a year later to kick her some more, but whatever he needs.  She’s not going to fight it.  It’s no more than she deserves.

“Kaitlyn, I – would you like some coffee?  Let’s have some coffee.  That might make this easier.”  The Chief opens the door to the conference room and stops the first person he sees. He tells them to bring two cups of coffee as though they’re all there to cater to him, with no more pressing work. Kaitlin feels a little glow, like long-banked coals being blown into life.  He hasn’t changed.  

He takes a few awkward steps around, like he’s got a ton of impounded energy and it’s hard for him to be still.  He does a weird head-shake, then reaches out and takes the back of a chair to pull it out.  He sits, and he looks directly into Kaitlyn’s face.  She tries to face him as bravely as she can.

“How have you been?”  His tone is kind again, like he hopes she’s been enjoying the Siberia to which he sentenced her.

“Fine, Sir.  Thank you for asking.  How are you?”

He laughs a little and shakes his head.  “No, Kait.  I’m really asking.  Have you been OK here?  It hasn’t been so bad?”

“It’s fine, Sir.  What we do is important.  Somebody has to be able to find these files when they’re needed for an appeal.  We’re keeping criminals behind bars, where they belong.”  She straightens her shoulders and sits up a little.  She hates it here, and she knows he knows that.  It’s why he sent her here.  But she’s still going to do the best job she can, and she still cares enough about his opinion of her that she wants him to know that.

“Yeah,” he says, almost to himself.  “I deserved that.”

“Sir?”

The woman he stopped knocks softly with her elbow on the glass of the conference room door.  The Chief gets up and lets her in.  She sets the cups of black coffee down on the table and leaves as quickly as she can.  Chief Dodds and Kaitlyn both take a sip of the semi-hot coffee.  

“That’s terrible,” he says, actually smiling at her.  “Just the way I like it.”

Huh.  That’s confusing. He’s making a little joke they used to make to each other about the ubiquitous, consistently awful coffee in the NYPD.    

He must see her confusion, because he sets down his cup and leans in.  “Kaitlyn, I have a lot to say to you.  But it all has to start with an apology.  I was lost when Mike died.  I felt like there was nothing good or meaningful in the world.  And I was so damn angry.  Angry at Munson, angry at fate, or God, or whatever.  Even angry at Mike for trying to be a hero, as if that wasn’t just who he was.  Who I raised him to be.  And I took that out on you.  I’m sorry, Kaitlyn.  I lashed out at you because you were there.  You were convenient.  I fucked up, and I hurt you because I was hurting so bad myself.  And I am very, very sorry.”

Kaitlyn sits, stunned, feeling the warmth as she cradles the paper coffee cup and just looks at the Chief.  Her mind is an absolute blank.  “You lost your son, Sir.  You’re entitled.”

He smiles at that and looks down at the table.  “Do you know, I actually predicted that you would say that?  You probably even believe it, which I don’t deserve.”

“Let’s not talk about ‘deserve’, Sir.  I don’t know about you, but I sure as hell don’t want what I deserve.”  All of Kaitlyn’s bitter guilt comes out in those words.  Dodds’s head snaps up.

“No, Kaitlyn.”

“Sir?”

“That’s why I’m here.  To right a wrong.  I said… Well, we both remember what I said. But I was wrong, and I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.  And I sent you here, to the ass end of the Department, and that was wrong.  Because you didn’t deserve it.” He gives her a meaningful look as he emphasizes the word, and holds up a hand when she starts to protest.  “Don’t argue with me.  I know what was going on with you and Mike.  He told me.  And I understand.  Even if I didn’t know your father, which I do, I’d still say you didn’t deserve what I did.  Who am I to tell you not to protect yourself?  Anyway, that’s all water under the bridge.  I’m here to get you out of here.”

Kaitlyn’s mind again blanks.  She treats the Chief to a look of almost comical confusion.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve paid for my stupidity. The office is a wreck.  Well, that’s not quite accurate.  I’ve got a hell of a good staff, and they’re keeping it going. It’s me.  I’m the wreck.  I can’t function without you.  I need you back.  And what’s more, I want you back.  It’s done, all I have to do is say the word, but…  I’m not going to order you back.  In fact, I’m offering to do whatever I can to get you placed wherever you want to go.  I mean it when I say I’m sorry, and I’ll make it up to you as best I can.  But I’m really, really hoping you’ll forgive the stupid mistakes of a grief-stricken old man and come back to my office.  Please.”

Kaitlyn is actually a little concerned that she might have become paralyzed somehow.  She’s entirely unable to move or speak.  The problem is that her ability to think has returned with a vengeance.  Now she’s thinking so many things, so fast, that she can’t catch any of her thoughts for long enough to try to follow one from beginning to end.  Her expression changes like a kaleidoscope as she wrestles to focus.  

“You need time.  I should’ve expected that.  You can have it.  Of course. I’ll give you as long as you need. You just-“

“Yes.”

“-call me when you’ve made…”  It takes a second for what she’s said to register.  “Yes?”

“Yes.  If you mean it.  Yes.”

“I do.  I mean it. I’ll take you with me today. Now.  Just get your things-“

“You can’t just tear me out of my chair, Sir.  I’m in the middle of some things.  Sergeant Cox would be really inconvenienced.”

“And you care about that?”

“Not in the least,” Kaitlyn hears herself say, a tiny grin beginning to twist her lips as she begins to dare to believe the Chief.  “But I care about the rest of the team.  Can you give me until the end of the week?”

“Of course.  Of course. And if you want to take some time off in between, that’s-“

“No, Sir.  I don’t want to give you time to change your mind.”

He smiles at that.  “I’m not going to change my mind, Kait.  I meant every word I said.  And, by the way, you’re getting a raise.  ‘Words are cheap, show me the money,’ right?  Heard you say that a million times.  So I am.”

He stands as he says that, so she hesitantly follows.  She isn’t prepared for him to bear-hug her, and doesn’t plan to burst into tears, but that’s what happens.  When he speaks, she realizes he’s crying, too.

“Kait, I’m so sorry.  I screwed up.  But I’ll make it up to you.  I swear.”

“You didn’t screw up.  You did what you had to do at the time.  Just, please, be serious about this.”

“I would never play you like that, Kait.  I’m completely serious.  First thing Monday, you’ll be back in the office and then everything will be all right again.”

Not everything, Kaitlyn thinks, but as long as she really gets to go back where she belongs, at least things will be better.  

“Will you do me one tiny favor?”  Kaitlyn dares to ask.

“Anything.  Name it.”

“Can I be the one to tell Sergeant Cox?”  

“I don’t think I like that evil gleam in your eye, Kaitlyn.”  Chief Dodds gives an actual belly laugh, and Kaitlyn’s whole world gets brighter in that moment.

“Neither will Sergeant Cox.  It’s been a long six months.”

“God help her.  Go ahead.”

****************

Five Months Later:

Things still aren’t quite right in the Chief’s office. Kaitlyn thinks her replacement might have been a reflection of the Chief’s grief, because for the life of her she can’t see why he’d thought the guy was qualified.  That might be sour grapes, of course, because the guy completely reorganized the computer filing system and Kaitlyn spent her first months back in the office fixing his “improvements” so that they can find things again.  Kaitlyn secretly has little sympathy for the other members of the Chief’s staff, since they’d let the guy do it.  But she keeps that to herself.  

She’s happy.  She always loved this job, but now she knows how lucky she really is.  And things have changed subtly between her and the Chief. He’s finally stopped apologizing to her every five minutes and going out of his way to do things for her; they’re back to their comfortable rhythm and she’s back to doing things for him, which is her actual job, after all.  But now that they’re back to normal, it’s clear that they have a deep, real relationship that goes beyond their work relationship.  It’s nice.  It feels more like father and daughter than employer and employee.  And why wouldn’t it?  He’s lost the only child he got to raise.  He’s got love to give, and no one to give it to now that Mike’s dead.  That thought makes Kaitlyn sad for Chief Dodds.  She’s stopped trying to deny how sad she is for herself.  Still.

She hasn’t even looked at another man since Mike died. He wasn’t even hers, she’d made sure of that, but she knows now what she missed.  She also knows what a complete, unmitigated idiot she was.  Susan Eisenberg’s been all over the tabloids with the lead singer of a rock band.  Or ex-lead singer, because she’s managed to alienate the band members from him, and the news is all about how the band broke up because of her possessiveness.  Kaitlyn hopes Mike can look down from Heaven and have a nice, smug “I told you so”.    

The thing is, she keeps comparing every guy she meets to Mike. She’s well aware that she’s probably making him perfect in her memory, remembering him as much taller, sexier, better-looking and more fun than he really was.  But she can’t help it.  Maybe because she works with his father every day, Kaitlyn’s having a hard time getting over Mike.  If she’s honest, she’s having a hard time wanting to get over Mike.  

It’s late on a Tuesday afternoon when the Chief appears in Kaitlyn’s office doorway.  She’s never seen the look he has on his face, and she’s instantly concerned about him. When he speaks, though, he’s trying to keep from smiling.  And he’s failing.  He reminds Kaitlyn of a man who’s just learned he’s about to be a father.

“Listen, I’d like you to knock off early, if you would. There’s something I need you to do for me, and I need you to come over to the apartment.”

“Sure,” she agrees.  That’s not such an unusual request, so it’s clearly not what’s making the Chief look so weird.  “Now?”

“Now.”

“What am I gonna need?”

“Uh,” the Chief really does look strange, and at this moment he appears to be struggling to wrap his brain around the very routine question.  “Your tablet, I guess.  Nothing else.”

“You’re the boss.”

They engage in small talk as a driver takes them to Chief Dodds’s apartment.  Kaitlyn loves it there.  It’s huge by New York City standards, and the Chief has either excellent taste or a very talented decorator.  As soon as they walk in, she’s enveloped by the quiet, and the sense of comfortable luxury. It’s maybe a little masculine for her, but it’s beautiful.  She knows he has a little bit of family money, and she thinks some of it must have gone toward this place.  She’d have done the same.

She’s surprised when he offers her a glass of wine.  When she’d first come to work for the Chief, he had offered her drinks, but apologized for not being able to offer her anything alcoholic.  He said it was skirting professionalism to work in his apartment anyway, and he made it a rule never to drink in that situation.  She agreed completely.  But here he was, offering her wine.

“Don’t we have a no-drinking rule?”

The Chief takes a deep breath and begins to uncork the bottle, despite what she’s just said.  Vague alarm bells begin to sound.  He’s not going to make a pass at her.  She knows that for a fact.  But something’s going on, and he thinks she needs to have a drink on board to deal with it. Shit.

“We do.  But I have some news, and it’s…  I hope you’ll trust me on this.  I think you’ll need it.”

“OK, now you’re scaring me.”

“It’s actually good news.  But it’s not gonna feel that way at first.  It’s not gonna feel bad-“ he hastens to add as he sees her tense up, even from across the room.  “It’s just gonna be a lot.  And confusing, and you’ll probably be pissed, and…”  He stops what he’s doing and looks hard at her.  “Just trust me.”

“I think I need a drink already, just from the preamble.  Just give me the news quickly.  Please?  I don’t like surprises.  You know that.”

“I do.  I absolutely do, and I’m sorry.  This is gonna be a big one.”

“Chief.  Stop.  I’m in full-on freak out now.  Just tell me.”

He’s holding two very full glasses of red wine as he crosses the room.  He hands her one and sits on a chair at an angle to the one she’s sitting in.  

“L’chaim,” he says, unknowingly reminding her painfully of the day she’d met Mike and they’d shared that toast over glasses of Dalmore.  

“L’chaim,” she echoes, and softly clinks his proffered glass.  “Now tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“When that’s half gone,” he says, pointing to her drink.  

“Chief-“

“Just trust me.”

“Fuck.”  She takes a healthy slug, which is an insult to the excellent Nebbiolo he’s given her. She very rarely drops F-bombs in front of the Chief, and she hopes it lets him know she’s hating every second of this.  

He talks a little bit about Mike then, which distracts her a little.  They rarely talk about him.  Even though they’ve forgiven each other, Mike is still a minefield of a subject between them. It’s a story about Mike as a small boy, and it’s adorable.  The Chief’s smiling fondly.  It’s nice to see him be able to talk about Mike without the haunted, tortured look he used to have.  By the time he’s done with that story, and another about the time Mike worked in a bar in Hell’s Kitchen for a while after returning from the Army, they’re halfway through their glasses of wine.  It’s time. Kaitlyn holds her glass up and wiggles it a little.

“Yeah.  All right.” The Chief says, squaring his shoulders, then leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.  He’s not looking at Kaitlyn.  He’s not even really looking at the floor where his eyes are aimed.

“Mike planned to transfer to the Joint Terrorism Task Force at some point.  He wanted to be part of the fight to protect the country.”

“You told me that.”

“He didn’t get the chance to do that, exactly.”

“Exactly?  Is your news something about Mike?”

Dodds doesn’t answer, just goes on with what he’s saying. “He didn’t get the chance to go to JTTF because Homeland Security came and got him first.  They saw their chance and they took it.”

“When was this?  You never told me about this.”

“I never told you because it was eleven months ago.”

Kaitlyn blinks and squints, shaking her head to convey that she doesn’t understand.

“Eleven months ago, Kaitlyn.  When they told us he died.”

The bottom dropping out of Kaitlyn’s stomach is extremely unpleasant, but not as bad as the hot lightning that begins to burn at her skin. She feels what he was telling her before she thinks it.  “When they told us he died…”

“It wasn’t true.  He was taken to Bethesda to finish recovering from his gunshot.  There was no stroke.  But they let us think there was.  They let me think there was.  And his mother, and his brother…”

Ooh.  Clearly, the Chief has some feelings about that.  That’s going to be interesting to Kaitlyn when she can get her mind to quit flipping around like an old VHS tape with tracking problems.  

“Six months ago, some little douchebag from the State Department came to see me.  He told me that my son was alive.  He apologized for the pain they’d caused, and had the balls to thank me for my ‘sacrifice’, like I’d been given any fucking choice.  He explained that everyone had to grieve normally.  It was part of Mike’s ‘legend’, the cover story so no one would identify him.  The little prick used enough damned spy buzzwords to choke a horse.”

“Holy…  Chief…” Kaitlyn is now three-quarters of the way through her wine, and planning to ask for more.

“Yeah.  The only good thing, the only good thing about that meeting was that the little State Department fuck had some kind of secure phone with him, and I got to talk to Mike.  Or rather, Mike talked.  I cried.”

“Of course you did.  Shit,” Kaitlyn whispers.  

For a minute, Chief Dodds doesn’t say anything.  He watches Kaitlyn try to begin to process the information he’s just given her, and when she drinks the last of her wine, silently goes to the kitchen and refills their glasses.  He hands hers, as full as before, to her with an open look on his face. Kaitlyn takes it and slumps against the back of her chair.  She drinks for a few more silent moments.

“They let you believe your son was dead.  For six months.  They let you bury him.  Mourn him. Our government did that to you. On purpose.”

“Yeah, but at least they thanked me for my sacrifice,” he spits bitterly.  “Apparently, the feds aren’t really big on worrying about individuals.  They’re more big picture kind of people.  That’s another bit of wisdom I got from the State Department guy.”

“Fuck.”

“But you’re missing the point.  Kaitlyn.  Mike is alive.”

She looks into his eyes.  She has absolutely no idea how to even begin to deal with any of this, except for one thing. The only thing that matters.  “Where is he?”

“Here.  Not in this apartment, but here in New York.”

“I want to see him.”  Suddenly, that is all Kaitlyn wants.

That makes the Chief smile.  “He wants to see you.”

She actually sets her glass down on a side table and stands. “Let’s go.”

He laughs quietly.  “Finish your drink.  I learned that there are guidelines for how to do this.  You need some time to ‘process’.  Time to ‘adjust’.  That’s a quote.  There’s a fucking manual for this shit, if you can believe that.”

“Sir, I want to see Mike.  I want to see him now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  And you will.  Just not tonight.”

[hypmicscenarios]

Anime Attraction

3.K words

A/N: High School au. Fic with ichiro, you two slowly falling in love over the span of a 4 day convention and bonding over the fact that you’re closeted weebs. (So he would like tdd era ichiro) And again! I use neutral pronouns! hope you enjoy~

Day 1: You were very excited, happy, elated, every happy word in the book! This year, you were finally going to your first anime convention. Unfortunately, you were a bit of a closeted weeb. People knew you watched anime….just not your extreme obssession with it. Maybe extreme was too harsh for you case, but you were sure that would be the situation if they ever saw your room, filled with anime posters, merch, etc.However, those were all bought online or in stores….youve never actually been to a convention.

Online, you heard many good things about it, and that people there, for the most part, were friendly. You smiled as you got off the train, an empty backpack on your bag, besides essentials, inside an empty tote bag for you posters. You had planned for this for months. Saving up all the money you could from your allowances. Your wallet, besides money for the train and food to eat, was going to be completely emptied by the end of the day. Finally, you took your jacket off, revealing a ( favorite anime) anime shirt on your person. One of your favorites. You could never choose. You could talk about it for days. However….it was Under rated. It was also a bit old...and you were late to watch it, so the fandom dwindled down.

You were amazed as you saw many cosplays, a bit too nervous to ask for pictures, or even compliment them, but you hoped they received your compliments in spirit….something like that. It was….also really big and crowded. You got too into your head, overthinking a bunch of things, that you didn’t see the larger man in front of you, hitting his back.

“O-oh im sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” you said, bowing quickly. You looked up at the man, gulping, quickly taken aback by how pretty he was, different colored eyes, red and green. It almost seemed like he was in cosplay, but he was just wearing a naruto shirt with black jeans on, a naruto headband around his forehead.

Ichiro blinked and smiled,”no need to apologize, I was kind of standing here in the middle of everyone anyway,”his eyes went down to your shirt and his eyes sparkled,”wait….thats a (favorite anime) isnt it! Whose your favorite character?”, he asked. You were taken aback about how eager and happy he seemed, but it definitely managed to make you relax a bit.

“My favorite character is [     ],”you said, stating your reasoning,”oh- sorry….I didn’t mean to talk that long,” Ichiro chuckled,”thats fine, I love them too! For mostly the same reasons, theyre kind of cool. This is my first convention so Im excited its going off to great start, thanks.”

Oh? It was his first time as well? “Its my first time too, I came here alone, I didn’t expect to be this big, theres so many people.” Ichiro nodded,”Im here by myself too, are you here all four days?” You nodded. “If you dont mind it, we can walk around together, ah! Sorry if thats a bit too forward….”,he trailed off. To be honest, Ichiro was a closeted weeb. So he had no one to talk to, let alone drag to a con. “Oh no, Um, its fine. I would like that...even though I know everyone here loves anime….”,you trailed off, the guy, whose name you still didn’t know, finished your thought,”because theres so many people conversing and being you feel like everyone already has their own cliques and you realize youre alone.”

Well. That. Yes that. You smiled,”Yeah, its that, and my nerves and anxiety.”

Ichiro stuck his hand out,”Yamada Ichiro, 2nd year high school student in Ikebukuro. Nice to meet you.”

“ l/n, f/n, also 2nd year in a high school located in yokohama, nice to meet you”m you said and shook his hand. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Day 2:

The first day, the two of you had walked around, played games, went to panels together, learning much more about each other. You agreed to meetup at the same place in the morning. Of course, you were even more excited than you were yesterday. You were dressed in more casual clothing, but backpack was now decorated with buttons you found. Soon, you heard your name being called out and waved your hand,”Good Morning Yamada-san”, you said, greeting him.

Ichiro smiled and spoke,”Morning! Did you sleep well?”, he asked.  You shook your head in disagreement,”I barely got any sleep, I was excited for today.” Ichiro laughed,”so did I, so what should we do today?”,he said, taking out the convention program guide. “Hmmmm, theres a bunch of panels,”you said, going to the side of him and looking at the program,”how to successfully master naruto hand signs….”,you trailed off. They really….had a panel for everything.

Ichiro’s face lit up,” that sounds cool, want to go? Although I already know a couple…”,he said, and you laughed,”what? You going to become the next hokage Yamada-san?”, you teased a bit, but he went along with it, of course he did. You found out about this from yesterday. That he was like this. “I am gonna be next hokage, just believe it!”, he said.

“Thats naruto’s punchline you cant just steal it,” you said, watching Ichiro as he thought, then spoke again, very excitedly,”Im going to be next hokage, because I said so!”, he said, putting out a thumb. For some reason, it had you laughing a lot,”b-bbecause you said so? Ahahaha, well, you sure have a passion like naruto, I think thats all you need, its cute”, you said, realizing that you had just called the other cute.

Ichiro blushed and put his hand behind his back,”Sorry...I just cant be like this a lot in real life without getting teased for it, so its a bit refreshing,”he said and you nodded,, understanding completely.

“Well, lets go learn some jutstus even though they wont help against a gun but who cares, because its an anime convention, and we’re doing what we love,”you said confidently, more confident than you would expect from yourself.  Ichiro nodded,”Dattebayo, lets go!”, he saidm turning around and walking. You were really having too much fun. Being attracted to him went way over your head for now, simply enjoying the time the two of you spent together.

Later on in the day, the two of you found an anime photo booth, Ichiro dragging you by the arm towards it,”for memories!”, he said. The two of you got in and hit the naruto theme poses. Of course, you indulged him, he was cute when he got his way. And, you didn’t have to worry about poses. Instead, they gave you poses to do.

The first was a naruto sign for any jutsu, the second peace signs, the third you had to stick your tongues at each other, seeming annoyed, and the last one….got you. It was only a hug, but they way Ichiro hugged you quickly and tightly, pushing both of your faces together, eft you shocked, and you were sure the picture didn’t turn out well. Once you got out and looked at it, Ichiro pointed to last one,”its like you were trying so hard not to blink, but we’re cute, arent we?”,he said and you laughed:yea we really are”, you replied, more focused on the current pace of your heart...beating very rapidly. You paid for two copies so you could keep it. The rest of the day, you two kept up your shenanigans. It was tough leaving, but you were going to come back tomorrow and, hopefully, your heart would learn to behave.

Day 3:

The two of you sat down to eat lunch on the third day, already having gone through a couple activities.

“Theres Jiro, then theres Saburo, and Saburo is the oldest. We’re all pretty close but Saburo and Jiro always fight a lot, typical sibling stuff…..and a lot of the times it includes me. I keep telling them I dont have favorites but they never listen,”Ichiro sighed with a smile on his face. It wasn’t an exhausted sigh though, he was used to it, it was just how they worked.

You smiled as he rambled on about his brothers. It was very clear that he cherished the both of them dearly and would do anything for them. “That must be nice….Im an only child so I could never relate to these type of things. Thats why I got into anime really, theres was no one that I could play with at the snap of a finger if I wanted to-oh Im not sad about it or anything, I love anime, it was really there for me in trying times, plus the internet.”

Ichiro nodded and then spoke,”Well, you have me now too, and you can be as passionate as you want, no holding back. You have my number now and its already fun texting you when we’re not at the convention.”  He was right. After you guys left, you were quickly texting each other at home before you went to sleep. You sent each other memes,pictures, and talked about a bunch of different topics, that often you had smiling or laughing at your phone.

At that point….you knew had a crush. It was only two days but he was just so…..it was the little things really, not just the fact that you had anime in common. When you were walking through the convention center, going through a massive crowd, he told you to hold onto his jacket, so you wouldn’t get lost. Or how he quickly offered to help hold your stuff when you were buying merchandise. Or even him talking about how much he loves his brothers. Rather than weird, it was insanely cute to you.

It wasnt love per say…..well. Lets be real. You were a sucker when it came to love. Honestly, you dont even feel like counting how many crushes you had but none of those ever came to fruition.  You should just focus on your anime boys but the moment some other boy is even the slightest bit kind to you, like helping you carry books, your heart falls. Despite that though, you felt like this was different. More than just a couple simple acts of kindness.

“Im really enjoying our time here, we’re going to the cosplay masquerade today right? We still have some time to kill, want to go to the game hall?”, you asked,”then we can see which one of us is better at dance dance revolution.” Ichiro smiled and nodded his head,”Yeah! Youre on!”

After that, the two of you managed to spend all of your time in the hall. Ichiro was by a claw machine and you commented,”I suck at these things,”then looked inside, seeing what plushies they had. “I think im pretty decent,”Ichiro said, walking up,”sometimes I won stuff for saburo when I was little...he grew out of it though,”Ichiro said with a laugh.He wanted to try it.

“Good Luck Yamada-kun!”, you said, cheering him on. You were amazed by how focused he looked. “Do you want anything specific?”,he asked you. “Wait, me?”, you said, trying to clarify. Ichiro laughed,”I think you’re the only l/n here,”he said. That...kind of caught you off guard. But you walked up and placed your hands against the glass. “Ummmm, that cat in the middle is kind of cute.”

Ichiro nodded. The first time, he managed to pick the plushie up for about three seconds before it fell, but that was better than what you could do! The second time, he managed to grab it again, your eyes wide in anticipation as you followed the claw and plushie to the drop off slot. “Oh my god, you did it!”,you said, going to high five both of Ichiro’s hands but, instead of letting go, he held them and put them down,”Yeah I did! Guess I didn’t lose my skill after all.” “Yeah...youre amazing”, you said, trying to not comment on the fact that he was still holding both of your hands. God….your heart was a mess. There was no denying you fell for him. At most, it was very high like at this point.

Day 4:

Ichiro was excited to see you again. Well, half-excited and half-sad. He really liked hanging out with you. More often than not, he found himself thinking about how you look best when theres a smile on your face. So, he always did dumb things to make you smile, no matter how stupid it may have looked. Maybe it was because you didn’t think his obsession was weird. When you guys talked, your interests lined up more than he thought they would. It was perfect.

Of course, he eventually figured out that he’d want to see you, in a more romantic context, that it is. He knew his feelings towards you were different. Honestly, he even weirdly got a little bit jealous when you mentioned how hot a specific anime character was. Ichiro didn’t necessarily plan on confessing that day….but who knows how things would turn out. Yes, it had only been three days, but he felt like he knew you already. Really, you guys always messaged each other.

The conversations would go dull for an hour or so but one link to a meme and that sparked a conversation that continued for a while. It was great. He had never felt so validated.

“L/n-san! Hey, morning!”,he said as he walked up to you. You looked like you were thinking hard about something, but Ichiro didn’t comment on it.

In fact, you were. Thinking about how you wouldn’t be able to see him so frequently. It made you….sadder than you expected. Granted you could travel to see him, but it was also due to the fact that it was the last day of the convention. Here, you could be yourselves without glancing over you shoulder every couple seconds in fear that someone you knew would spot you.  It was so much fun, especially because of him!

Its for the best though….your funds were just about dried out. You couldn’t help but smile as you saw him though,”hey, good morning to you too, ready for the last day?” Ichiro laughed,”Yes and No because this has been very exciting.” You nodded in agreement,”it has, it does suck that we cant experience this everyday.”

“well!”,Ichiro clapped his hands,”lets not worry about that and focus on having fun, okay?” Your smile got wider,”yes, okay!” Ichiro spoke,”Datteba-”, then he pointed towards you,”Yo!”, you said, the two of you giggling. This had become your thing now, apparently, but you two werent used to it, hence you laughing off you embarrassment.

You went to the artist alley and exhibit hall one last time, taking a lot more pictures together than usual, even with cosplayers! Ichiro helped you out a lo with expressing that you wanted pictures with them and that was yet another thing that you loved about him. Without even asking him to do so, he just did it on a whim, and that made you incredibly happy.

A bit later, it was closing ceremonies. It wasnt much really, but anything to just spend even a little more time with Ichiro. However, that ended sooner than you expected. And you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

The two of you sat outside on a bench.

“So, I suppose this is it…”,you said. You had to get back early today anyway. Yet, you really didn’t want to. You looked up as Ichiro spoke,”no, its not it. We still have each other’s numbers, we can make it work, I-well….these past few days have been really fun for me,”Ichiro blushed, placing his hand behind his neck. Was he going to confess? If he didn’t do it now he knew he’d procrastinate on doing so forever. He didn’t necessarily have to make sure you were his in this exact moment, but his heart wanted an answer as soon as possible, before he got in too deep.

“The thing is….I want us to be more than just friends. I just….the more we talked, the more I found myself drawn to you. Like I can tell you anything. Its really easy to be myself around you, l/n, I want...to get closer. So, would you go out with me? Or not now, I mean you can think about it but...yeah.”,he said, face blushing. He had only confessed once in his lifetime and that was during elementary….he was quickly shut down.

You….couldn’t believe your ears. Did you really manage to find someone who was interested you at an anime convention. Well, you were sure there were more interesting stories but this was still way out of your league. You even thought he was way out of your league.

“I….we can date. I feel the same, about you, I like talking to you. And I think whats making me so sad is that I cant see you...not the convention part,”you said, looking towards Ichiro and seeing his grow excited. He grabbed your hands quickly and held them,”really?! Thats great.”,he said, letting go than hugging you. Oh. This was happening. It took you a couple seconds to process the hug before you reciprocated it.

Ichiro pulled away, looking down at you, a smile on his face,”when I talk with you, I feel like the happiest and luckiest man in the world. I know love is too strong of a word right now, but I want to do my best to make you happy.”

You were so flustered that you made no response, even more so when you felt his hand on your cheek and saw him leaning in. It all happened quickly. You closed your eyes and suddenly his lips were on yours. No movement, but it lingered for a moment, before he pulled away.

That was your first...kiss. You didn’t mind that it got taken by him but still….it was so much to process. Ichiro brought you back to reality,”Ikebukuro isn’t too far from Yokohama on the train, maybe we could meet in the middle on weekends, or switch up, ah, well I guess we can talk about this letter, getting ahead of myself,”he said and chuckled, which only prompted you to let out a soft laugh. He was like an eager puppy that you wanted to pet. Weird how he so easily calmed your nerves by the sounds of your laughs.

“Datteba-”

“Yo!”

[rantingfangirl]

When A Soul Feels Its Worth

This gift is for @auva as part of the @usuknetwork ‘s UsUk Holiday Exchange 2018. It was a collab between @thenarcolepticone and me. I hope you enjoy!

His arm burned as he raised it, the sleeve of his red sweater tightening around his bicep, the hem at the bottom riding up his stomach. Around him, a crowd flittered by, some offering waves and cheerful hellos, others wiggling the ladder he stood on.

Alfred F. Jones made sure to kick those in the second group.

Just a little higher, and the mistletoe was finally hung. He slowly let it drop from his fingers, its red ribbon swinging precariously on the hook. Letting out a sigh of relief, Alfred slowly scaled down the ladder and glanced upward to admire his work. Mission complete.

Now, onto the next one: finding Arthur. 

His boyfriend had disappeared amongst the throng of partygoers, his impenetrable host mentality having peeked its head the moment guests walked through the door. 

Impenetrable, at least, until the crowd outnumbered him to the point where he couldn’t move without bumping into someone. He was sure Arthur would disappear then, if he hadn’t already.

Alfred started in the kitchen, waiting until the doorway was clear before stepping through. Alfred popped his head in to check, scanning for that gelled head of hair.

Nothing.

He received a few waves for his endeavor, which he made sure to return before leaving. Alfred turned, bumping into someone before he could see who it was.

Oh.

Arthur took a step back, the small frown on his face sending Alfred’s heart racing. He smiled, pulling Arthur into a tight hug, digging his nose into the crook of his neck.

He felt Arthur deflate in his arms, fingers sliding up his sides and settling at the small of his back. “Arthur?”

“Hm?” Arthur’s voice was clear in his ear.

Alfred lifted his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. He had him. “Look up.”

His grin grew even wider when Arthur noticed the mistletoe hanging from the doorway, the one he’d hung just minutes before.

“I’ll be taking that kiss now.” He puckered his lips, leaning in.

Arthur put two fingers to his mouth, softly tsking. “You need to close your eyes first.”

Alfred did as he was told, sealing his eyes shut and waiting expectantly. A hand slid over them, the cold of Arthur’s fingers pressing against his forehead.

The kiss was fleeting, nothing but a small peck, but Alfred kept his eyes closed, hoping for a second, much longer one. When nothing came after a few seconds, he finally opened them.

Arthur was gone.

Fuck.

He turned around, looking to see if he had managed to slip past him. Arthur was certainly thin enough to do so, even with the narrow doorway. The crowd was too dense to catch him, not without getting stopped several times and pulled into hour-long conversations. But hell, Arthur could manage, if he really wanted to.

He wasn’t in the kitchen, nor in the living room or study. So that only left-

Alfred glanced towards the stairs leading to the second floor and continued his search.

It was against a host’s protocol to leave his guests on a different floor, but Alfred supposed that this would be the exception;  Alfred’s entire game plan had changed in the span of 5 seconds ascending the stairs; from getting Arthur to kiss him to just... getting Arthur to come back downstairs.

The sudden abruptness of the kiss and the speed at which he had decided to leave made Alfred absolutely paranoid. He was sure that it was something he did wrong there. Maybe Arthur didn’t like mistletoe... or maybe it was because there had been too many people staring?

Alfred swallowed, hands nervously tugging on the sleeves on his sweater as he finally settled on the thought. That last point might have been it; Arthur was definitely not a fan of crowds and that most definitely could be a factor.

“Stupid...” he murmured to himself, finally reaching the last stair and tunnelling right into the bedroom.

“Arthur?” Alfred knocked on the door, ear leaning onto the wood.

No response.

“Arthur I’m coming in.”

With a wrist turn, Alfred quickly discovered that the doorknob had been unsurprisingly locked to prevent him from entering.

“Arthur, let me in. Come on. I wanna talk. I obviously did something wrong and you’re not telling me what it is.”

There was a shuffling of pillows that was heard, but Alfred hadn’t picked up any other sound following that.

“Arthur, seriously. We have guests downstairs and I would rather not have them see us disagreeing like this.”

The door swung open, causing Alfred to stumble inside with a sudden yelp. Arthur stepped back, clearly not having expected the other to be so close, but the second that Alfred caught his footing, Arthur retreated back onto the bed.

It seemed that Arthur had turned on the television to a random channel to appear like he was occupied in the span of time Alfred was hunting for the Englishman. The screen was showing a clip of A Christmas Story, but with sound so low that Alfred barely picked it up over the talking from downstairs.

“Arthur--”

“If you’re asking for a redo, I’m not giving it to you” said Arthur icily, continuing to watch the practically muted program. “Just bugger off and let me be alone, can’t you? You have more than enough guests downstairs to occupy your time.”

“Arthur,” argued Alfred, leaning back against the door resting on the wall. “Seriously, dude. That’s not fair. You gotta at least tell me what it is that’s bothering you or else I don’t want to talk to anyone else in the evening until we’re okay. What was it? Was it too many people staring...?”

Arthur groaned, lifting a hand to his face as he gave an exhausted exhale, as if had only collected his thoughts just then.

“Alfred,” he began. “Did you really expect me to just be content with me being the main spectacle for an audience? I mean ... I get it, of course. It’s Christmas and you want to us to be that ideal couple that everyone always expects us to be. But I don’t...” Arthur took another breath, staring at the floor to avoid Alfred’s concerned gaze. “You just made me look like a prize in front of everyone. Like you had to show me off or something. And maybe that’s something that’s good on you but...”

Alfred felt his chest stiffen. God, had he really gone that far into ruining Arthur’s night? Alfred went to close the door to the room, finally allowing the two of them the opportunity to speak in their own quarters privately.

“Hey...” interrupted Alfred, coming a little closer to the other on the mattress. Arthur visibly hesitated, almost turning his head away, but Alfred persisted.

“I didn’t mean it to come off like that, Artie. Really. I’m... really sorry. You know I wouldn’t want to purposely make you look bad in front of everyone.”

Arthur sighed. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. Of course you didn’t. I just... I wanted to bring it up much earlier in the party. But I didn’t want to kill your mood before everything started. It just didn’t make sense to make you upset like that.”

Alfred now frowned at that. He took his place right next to Arthur, laying down on the bed, practically spooning the man as a way to comfort him.

“You can’t expect me to be happy at a party if my own boyfriend isn’t happy.” said Alfred. “I know everything still under construction with us. But you gotta learn to trust me and tell me if I’m doing something like this to you. It’s like a Yelp review; you gotta leave me some feedback so I can get better at this whole... relationship thing!”

It was an honest statement. Alfred already knew he wasn’t an expert into reading into Arthur’s emotions just yet; they had only been together for the last 3 months and he still had yet to map out all of the other’s idiosyncrasies and quirks. Alfred just liked the idea of making Arthur feel special... but perhaps this was also one of the unknowns of introverts; a category of people that Alfred knew next to nothing about.

At the response, Arthur rolled his eyes but chortled passively.

“That’s the worst comparison you’ve come up with to this day.”

“I’m 100% serious though,” insisted Alfred, burying his nose right on the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Come back downstairs. I’ll promise that I’ll stay by you all night if you want. Your own personal chauffeur.”

“You’re too much,” Arthur sighed as he closed his eyes a second time. “But I guess I do also owe you an apology as well.”

Arthur shuffled around, meeting Alfred’s gaze as he stared into his soft blue eyes. Alfred couldn’t help it but lean in, taking another kiss on Arthur’s lips. It was much longer this time; the redo that Alfred had wanted to experience.

“Is that the apology?” teased Alfred, soon placing his kisses on Arthur’s eyebrows and nose. “Can I have more of those?”

“Of course you can. But careful,” warned Arthur, laughing. “Keep this up, and you won’t have any kisses left for next year.”