#starting off my weekend right with a good dose of PAIN

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Spolia (II)

Parings: Malleus/(Light Fae) MC // Slight Rook/Vil // MC (Parental)

Summary: You wondered why you ever got accepted into NRC but never bothered to look back when the infamous black carriage whisked you away from a place you could never call home. Having been handed an opportunity of freedom, of solitude, of hope- how come you're paralyzed with fear rather than excitement? Your sunny plein air sessions and nightly walks contemplating this has attracted a certain dragon fae with an affinity for your nimble gargoyle sketches and magnificent paintings.

Notes: Comments and feedback always appreciated! Also don’t know if I mentioned but English is not my native language so please bear with me I’m translating everything from my native tongue to English

CW: Physical/Verbal Abuse, panic attack, dissociation

AO3 Link Here

Part 1 // Part 2 (Here) // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7

Masterlist

———————————————————

Though you only had a bit of experience in graphic design, the poster seemed to be coming along well. The weekend allowed for some extra time, so all that was left was to hand it off to either Rook or Vil, and considering your family’s relationship with Vil’s own, you decided to find the Vice Dorm leader to lessen your future anxiety for the day.

Blowing off the loose specks of gold leaf from the poster, you carefully slipped your poster into a portfolio folder.

Ah can’t forget…

Opening a small chest on top of your dresser, you revealed a bottle of dark, viscous liquid. Already feeling a phantom bitterness on your tongue, you prepared yourself for the daily dose of the tincture that sealed your identity away from the world‒ far far away from the oh so brilliant reputation of the D’aramitz name. After dropping a bit onto your tongue, you nearly jumped at the cup or water sitting on your nightstand, forcing down the searing pain with it. Your wings drooped down a bit, the color from your cheeks fading along with the little energy you had this morning.

Squeezing your hands and digging your nails into your flesh palms, breathe, breathe, breathe , you repeated in your head, choking down the heaviness that the potion usually weighed you down with. Your hands automatically began to work in trained movements from wig, hood, and headphones, before dragging on a pair of your painting pants and apron to head out to the alchemy lab where the science club had their meetings. The sooner you got this done, the sooner you could work on the gargoyle piece that you had started the underpainting for.

———————————————————

“Ah (Name) good to see you, what brings you here?”

The Science club seemed busy as usual, each student focused on their own individual experiments, from agriculture, alchemy, to more explosive projects‒ the room was bustling with magical energy. Professor Crewel stood, greeting you with a pleasant smile, next to Professor Trein.

“H-hello Professor Crewel, Professor Trein” you bowed lightly “I was wondering if you knew where Rook was? I need to hand him off something…”

“L’artiste en folie! A pleasure to see you as always. What can I do for you?” Your Vice Dorm leader seemed to pop out of nowhere, raising his safety goggles smeared with what appeared to be smog or dirt of some sort.

Right on cue as always.

“I came to hand you‒“

Your phone rang obnoxiously throughout the lab. Cursing internally, you gave a quick apology and turned away from the three, your stomach sinking at the sight of the contact that appeared on the screen. What a week you were having. Maybe you needed to be checked for curses or something.

“Hello mother. How are you?”

“You have an offer for a magazine cover featuring a new skincare company Father and I have been discussing purchasing. I’m sending you the date and time. You will be picked up from school .”

Ah no I’m doing absolutely great thanks for asking. No, please make this conversation more pleasant than it already is

“Of course. Thanks mother.” You said curtly, hoping it would shorten this already unbearable interaction. Before you could finish however, your mother interrupted you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to be attentive in your word choice?! It’s ‘thank you’!! Thank you, mother!! “

“Yes mother. Thank you, mother.”

“I did not raise such an insolent child! You better not be behaving so nonsensically at that school, child. Otherwise you know what you’re bringing onto yourself .”

“Yes mother.”

That cold, dark room. Nothing, nothing, nothing. The darkness that swallowed your arms, your legs, your voice, your chest, your eyes. In that inky abyss, you were merely a pile of nerves ‒ maybe even less‒ threatening to disappear. You wish you could, but the thought of being eaten whole by that darkness with no remnants of yourself left in the world often confirmed that you did have a beating heart‒ thump thump thump fluttering against your empty chest. Perhaps it was instinctual for a light fae. But most conscious beings feared death. Being forgotten, forever.

“Tainting the D’aramitz name, spouting such idiocy. When will you stop behaving this way?! Has the devil possessed you to act so foolishly?! Do you understand what is at stake here??”

“Yes mother.”

“You behave as I taught you? Understood?”

“Yes mother.”

“Oh, and (Name)?”

Great seven what else is there??

You could feel the bile burning the back of your throat, as your trained senses immediately numbed your body to the venom spat at you. A muddy stillness spread from your heaving chest, to your shoulders, head, arms, and then to the tips of your shaking hands. You noticed you had been gripping your portfolio, bending the plastic which formed to your clenching fist. With the numbness finally rushing to the palms of your hands, you let the portfolio drop, feeling the eyes behind you turn to your back when it slumped over with a thud.

“Yes mother?”

“Don’t be late. And make sure to secure a meeting with them for us. God knows you need a reminder.”

Before you could answer her, she hung up. You stared at the reflection on your blank screen, gazing far into your eyes to look for a semblance of a real person within them. Remaining frozen for a second, you wondered what sort of face you should pull your muscles into for the three behind you.

Your phone vibrated, showing a text from your mother.

"October 20. 3pm. Don't be late ."

Ah great of course the day of the culture festival. Yup that's fine. Totally fine with that, absolutely. Just have to rearrange my entire schedule for that day, no big deal! Not like I'm the president of a club or anything! Or that I promised the Diasmonia dorm leader, literal heir to the throne, I would visit his booth on that day. No this is fine, totally fine.

Definitely needed to be checked for curses.

“Apologies. Vice Dorm leader, I’ve just come to pass this onto you. Sorry for the dent. The contents inside are okay though.” You peered inside the portfolio, confirming that your poster was okay.

Rook raised his hand to pause you mid sentence. The sudden movement made you heart jump out of your chest, and you tried your hardest to maintain your expression as your shoulders twitched slightly. From your peripherals, you observed your professors, seeing if they noticed. You internally cringed at Trein’s unreadable expression .

At least Crewel seemed unbothered

“No apologies needed L’artiste en folie! Thank you for your time. I won’t keep you here now, I’m sure you have important things to do.” Rook hummed excitedly as he turned to return to his project. You were glad he was such an easy going person.

“I-I’m going to excuse myself now. Have a good day, Professor Trein, Professor Crewel.” You bowed again, grabbing the rest of your supplies before darting to the exit.

“You too puppy.”

“You as well, Mx.D’aramitz… be safe. ”

You’ve never dreaded such kind words from your professor.

———————————————————

Malleus sat at his desk once more, reading over and over the intricate annotations left in the chapter of this book. Since his encounter with the book, he had taken several trips to the library, checking out some readings on the same topic, holding a sliver of hope that it would encounter the same dainty handwriting written in crimson ink.

He wondered if he could use these during his presentation for the cultural festival. Or even buy the sketches off of them. But to do that he had to hunt down this mystery person first.

Maybe he could ask that president…

Deciding to get some fresh air after being cooped up in his room reading all day, he slipped the book into the inner pocket of his uniform- the closest one to his heart- heading out for his daily walk. The sun was beginning to set soon, staining the dusty blue sky with a vibrant orange. Surely there would be less students out late on a day before school began again.

The cool October wind felt good in his lungs. He strolled to the side of the Diasmonia dormitory, holding up the sketches in the book to find its similar match to identify the type of gargoyle. He had found one, tucked on top of the column of the clerestory*. Holding the sketch up to the statue, he imagined a rainy day, water sprouting from its mouth like in the sketch. Satisfied, he placed the drawing back carefully into its original page, walking further to see if he could spot the second one this different sketch depicted, however, he was met with the sight of a body curled on the lawn near the dorm at the foot of an easel holding a canvas with a cloth draped on top of it. Cautiously walking up to the form, he noticed that he recognized the figure sprawled out on the grass.

What a troublesome president…

He peered at your face, checking to see if you were awake. Not yet. His gaze was pulled to the stained drapery hanging on the giant canvas. keeping his viridian hues fixed on the covered artwork, his hand slowly reached to uncover what was beneath. Though he felt the muscles of his arms stretch to drift his hand closer and closer to the drapery, Malleus could not break away from the phantom force that sucked his body towards the uncovered painting.

He rolled the rough fabric between his fingers. The steady drumming of his heart slowed as he let a ghostly breath out from his lips.

“Mn…? Did I fall asleep again..?”

He jerked away from the canvas as if it had scorched his fingertips, and quickly turned to see you rising from your position, resuming a calm expression. You rubbed your eyes with your paint stained fingers, letting out a yawn while stretching your arms into the air, rolling the ache from your neck.

“I see that you were awake.”

Your eyes shot up to him.

“Oh! I’m sorry, just give me a second to gather my things and I’ll leave. Sorry for falling asleep on your lawn. The sun just felt so nice today.” You pushed yourself up with your knee, ignoring the purple splotches in your vision as the blood rushed to your head and gathering your supplies in your leather bag.

“It’s not a problem, child of man. I appreciate you attempting to capture the beauty of our dormitory. It’s quite a masterpiece I would say, I’m quite fond of it myself.” The radiant smile on his lips brought the same warmth to your cheeks.

“I agree! It’s a shame that the students here don’t appreciate it enough! I constantly tell my fellow club members to come here for plein air sessions!”

“Plein…air?”

“Ah! S-sorry. It’s just a fancy way of saying sketching or painting outside.”

He definitely thinks you’re pretentious now

“That’s interesting. I’ve never heard of that term before.” Malleus picked up your canvas and easel that you were struggling to balance in your arms. His expression urged you to go on further. Though you were surprised, excitement hummed in your bones.

“Ah! Thank you, you don’t have to…but the term was coined in the 19th century during the impressionist movement. Monet, Cezzanne, Renoir, Cassat…Any of those artists who paint in thick, noticeable strokes. Colorful too.”

“Impressionist..Hm. The only name that comes to mind is Van Gogh.”

“You’re right! But he belongs more to the symbolist or post impressionist movement! More religious, and metaphorical, the impressionists before that actually appealed to a frivolous higher class, despite the way people depict it. Impressionism is all about frivolity. I prefer the post impressionists. Van Gogh was actually a very spiritual man."

A beat. Maybe I've said too much-

“Hm intriguing, child of man. Tell me more.”

You felt your wings tucked inside your jacket flutter a bit at his words. Side by side, you continued your walk back to your dorm.

———————————————————

Your friendship with the Diasmonia dorm leader developed during your nightly walks back to your dorm. He insisted on escorting you every time, because it was “dangerous for a child of man such as yourself.”

You felt the guilt settle in your stomach every time he laughed at something you said, urged you to continue dumping information onto him, or simply smiled when greeting you. He even got you a tamagotchi to match with his, just because it had come up in conversation that you had never had a chance to keep one, because your older sibling had taken it away from you. He was so gentle, so kind, and you were lying to his face while having the audacity to indulge in his attention, his words, his warmth. This feeling accumulated as you remembered you still had not shown him any of your paintings, despite his continued interest.

“I actually suck at painting, haha. It’s not anything worth looking at.”

Every time he had asked about seeing you work, you dismissed it with that. Seeing his dejected expression after you had distanced him with just two sentences, a knot tangled itself in your chest. It was confusing, feeling a sting of pain every time he smiled, but also feeling a similar ache when you attempted to ease that guilt that weighed itself on your heart and watched his face fall into a disappointed expression.

This is what you want, right? Keeping him at a safe distance, away from your lies. Then why, why, does it hurt? Why ?

I don’t understand

It never hurt with mother, nor did it hurt with your father, or elder sibling. You kept the shameful parts of your identity far, far, away from them. What’s wrong with you? Why did it hurt so much with Malleus? What was so special about him? Was it because he was fae too? Were you feeling some sort of kinship with him because of your species? Perhaps it was worth looking into on your nightly walk after the cultural festival ends.

You turned to your suitcase, full of various potions, vials or skincare, and make up and wardrobe items.

Vil would definitely be proud.

The clock read 2:30. Might as well head early to avoid a scolding from your mother.

Heaving your suitcase out of your room and down the stairs, You headed towards the hall of mirrors where your mother had promised to pick you up personally. How touching.

You really wished you had paid more attention in your practical magic class. You thought as you dragged your suitcase through the hallway.

But then, you wouldn’t have met Malleus. A rush of endorphins tingled your spine. You weren’t sure if it was anxiety, or something else.

I don’t understand.

“Mx.D’aramitz? Shouldn’t you be preparing for your club activities for the cultural festival?”

You jumped at the steely voice behind you. “P-professor Trein! I was just…I have permission from Headmage Crowley because I have…uh…family business I must attend to. My club members are sufficient enough to set up the rest of the gallery for today…I left notes just in case…”

“I see. In that case I’ll help you at least carry this. You’re in the art club?” Trein levitated the suitcase with ease, holding the door for you before entering on his own.

“Ah, yes. I’m actually the president, so if possible I wouldn’t leave at a time like this…”

Malleus’ disappointed face appeared in your head. He would surely be, after you made a promise to visit his club…Perhaps if you weren’t too tired tomorrow you would stop by.

“…however when family duty calls, I can’t refuse.”

Trein fixed a softened gaze towards you.

Pity.

You could feel it swimming in his eyes.

Please don’t look at me. Stop, stop, stop

You shifted your eyes to the ground, a heaviness swirling in your chest.

“That’s very honorable of you, Mx. D’aramitz. However, working too hard is not good for your body. I can’t have my favorite student burning out just yet.”

Huh?

Ah, you definitely did not expect that. Your eyes widened, and your nose flared slightly at Trein’s gentle smiling you’ve been seeing more of lately. Perhaps it was a smile born out of pity. However, you heart still stuttered a bit at the words: “ favorite” “student” . You had never been someone’s favorite anything before. A genuine smile graced your lips.

“Thank you professor. No need to worry so much, I can’t have my favorite professor being accused of favoritism.”

Trein lets out a hearty laugh you feel proud of. “Rest assured Mx. D’aramitz, I would never let myself play favorites in the academic sense. I merely admire your passion when it comes to the subject of art. I should have expected a student like you would be the president of the Art Club. Ah, also,” Trein pulled out a book from his inner pocket “I was actually on my way to pass this onto you.”

Power of Artistic Appropriation: Postwar Victory of Gothic Fae Architecture

“Ah! I was looking for this! I couldn’t find it anywhere in the library!” You were already flipping through the pages, excited to devour the contents of the book.

“I thought so. One of my students had it checked out for a while and I happened to see him finish it. I asked if I could borrow it from him for you, I know how quickly you finish books, so it won’t be an issue to bring it back to me in a few days, yes?”

“Thank you professor! I’ve actually been wondering about something regarding one of the readings you suggested last time…”

“Oh? What could that be?”

“The shift from functional gargoyles to decorative ones was indicated first from the spolia of one of the triumphal arches from Briar Valley, would you say this was a symbolic, or better put, psychological attempt in humiliating the human race and their innovations of the Gothic Era?” Excitement simmered at the tips of your fingers at the thought of discussing, no, even merely thinking about one of your favorite subjects. You could barely contain yourself.

You continued, “Since in the human realm, gothic structures during the later eras had begun to rise as both a symbol of the powerful political and religious influence of Royal families, would it make sense to argue that the Fae‒ considering their history in belittling humans especially as negative sentiments grew during the war‒“

“(Name).”

The bubbling passion you radiated swiftly rushed out of your body like the warm blood. You stilled your breath, careful not to tremble as Trein’s eyes remained fixed on your expression.

“Mother.” That word felt like fire on your tongue.

“Who is this gentleman?” She gestured to Trein.

“This is Professor Trein, the head of the history department here.”

“Oh, excuse my manners professor! It’s nice to meet you, my name is Anastasia D’aramitz, owner to the D’aramitz skincare and potions company. I hope that my child here has not caused you too much trouble.”

She flickered a fiery look at you for a split second, before returning to her smiley facade.

“Not at all Lady D’aramitz, it’s always a pleasure having Mx.D’aramitz both in and out of class.” Trein bowed politely, plastering a curt smile. “I’ll be on my way now, Lady D’aramitz, Mx.D’aramitz. Take care.”

You quietly bowed, your voice lodged at the back of your throat, constricted from the muscles in your shoulder tensing at your mother’s cold touch.

“You do the same as well, Dr.Trein.”

———————————————————

You did not successfully evade that scolding. Under your left hand, you held your shaking right, digging your nails into the freshly made scabs on your palms, as you held and released your trained breath in slow counts.

1…2…3…4…

“You insolent child! What sort of nonsense were you talking about with the head of the history department of all people?! Do you know what you cost me when you act like a bumbling idiot like that?!”

1…2…3…4…

“Yes mother, I apologize mother.”

1…2…3…4…

“ Devil child! Cease with that attitude. What do you think we send you to that school for?! Have you forgotten where you were raised, you no good fairy ?!”

1…2…3…4…

“Yes, mother, I apologize‒“

A harsh slap burned your cheeks. She grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you right into her face. Tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

1…2…3…4…

“I said cease with that disgusting attitude of yours! Do you have no respect, no thanks for the people who raised you?! We could have thrown you out that day we found you instead of our child, but we took you in. Do you have no shame?! Acting in such a way after all we’ve done for you!"

1…2…3…4…

“I am…sorry for my attitude, mother. It won’t happen again. I am eternally grateful for all you’ve done.”

1…2…3…4…

She released the searing grip from your white hair, throwing you back to the seat of the car.

1…2…3…4…

“We’re here. You’re disgusting. Clean yourself up before you come in.”

She threw a pink vial at your lap.

“Best rejuvenation in all of Twisted Wonderland! Approved by fae!” It was labeled in gold ink. A small picture of your face‒ the model one with your fae features showing, an image constructed by your mother‒ framed by a heart shape sat next to the lettering. You ripped off your wig, throwing it across the car. Gripping the prissy pink vial in your hand, you prepared to throw it out the window. You paused when you saw your reflection in the window, a dark red splotch staining your cheek.

Tears burned at the back of your throat as you lowered your hand. Shaky hands struggled to pop the cork off, before throwing back the contents of the vial in one thick gulp, and slamming it onto the seat. You dug your hands into your arms squeezing your body that no one else would hold.

1…2…3…4…

———————————————————

Malleus gazed at the poster in front of him. As remarkable as the design was, he felt a sense of familiarity in the swirling golden calligraphy.

Oh .

He reached quickly for the book kept in his inner pocket, tucked near his quickening heart. Carefully peeling off the precious note, he held it up next to the lettering.

A match !

Warmth rose to his cheeks along with effervescent delight that made his hands shake. No signature, again. It seemed that his mystery person was serious about privacy, however the pretty curls of each letter were unmistakably the same written in crimson ink.

“Roi des Dragons!”

Malleus had to rip his gaze from the poster to return to the present world, met with a gathering of students carrying lights, wood panels, and several cases of…apple juice? Ah and of course the obnoxious feathered vice dorm leader right in his face.

“What has entranced you so intently that you’re blocking the path for our backstage friends?” Malleus wanted to slap that coy smile off that face.

“I was merely admiring the poster. I apologize for blocking your path.” He said curtly, regaining his usual steely expression on his face.

“Non non, no issue, Roi des Dragons. I do not blame you, this magnifique work of art can be quite bewitching. More so because I happen to know L’artiste en folie who completed the piece.”

His ears twitched at that. “Oh?” A baited breath.

“Who?”

Rook shook his head,. “Alas, I cannot reveal. C’est un secret…The artist asked me specifically not to say.” He pressed a finger to his lips, leading the students on their merry way.

Malleus chewed the side of his mouth at that. So close. But hope was not lost. He had planned to ask you about the sketches today at your gallery. Tucking the book back into his pocket, he headed over to the art classroom where you mentioned your club would be displaying their artwork and pieces for purchase.

———————————————————

“Ah.”

The moment he stepped into the classroom, he was ensnared. He couldn’t help but to let out an audible sound in awe.

A gargoyle loomed from above, painted in brilliant hues of orange, violet, lavender, and cornish blue. Though the expression of the looming gargoyle remained true to its real counterpart, quite scary at that, there was an incredible softness, almost an iridescent glow to the painting as he approached closer, closer, closer to the canvas.

Such life, such tenderness, such softness. Was this really on a two dimensional surface? The heavenly glow of the painting seeped deeply into his bones, instilling a blazing adoration to them.

This is how you see the world, mystery artist.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. His heart erupted in warmth that he wanted to share with the world. Otherwise he felt like his body would explode.

“You’re interested in purchasing that piece?”

He attempted to slow the erratic thumping of his heart that pounded a deep drumming in his ears. He couldn’t.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

“Yes, I do."

“We can set you up over here by the counter. We have an option to leave a message for the artist, would you like to?”

“Yes, yes I would. Can I ask who the artist is?”

Thump, thump, thump.

“Ah, unfortunately I can’t say unless our artists explicitly give permission too…But I’ll make sure to pass the message on.”

Thump, thump, thump

The pen shook slightly in his hand. What should he write? What could possibly explain the situation he was in without sounding like an absolute creep? This was one of the rare instances where Malleus’ head was filled with absolute panic.

He remembered the title of the book filled with pretty red cursive. Spolia, Appropriation, and Victory: Decorative Statues Throughout the Ages. A number appeared in his head, 1001, October 1st, the day he encountered that red ink.

“I wish to find you.

“Spolia, page 1001”

He paused before signing his name. It was only fair he leave this mystery artist in suspense after they had done to him for so long. He was feeling a bit mean, too.

“Please leave my name anonymous from any documents the artist may receive.”

After paying the amount and handling the canvas with precious, precious movements, he scrawled something in red ink before slipping it in Spolia, Appropriation, and Victory , page 1001. He headed to the library to leave the book in its place.

———————————————————

Notes:

Clerestory: I realized that I mentioned this in the previous chapter but failed to address it. It’s basically one of those defined levels of the walls I talked about earlier in my explanation. Usually it’s the level where the stained windows are since it’s usually the highest level of the wall, which is why said widows can be called clerestory windows sometimes. It can also be made up of fake windows (basically just a window made of stone) in older buildings since welding/glass/architectural technology was not yet advanced enough to hold the weight of the building with giant glass windows without collapsing.

The introduction of strong metal and metal structures for the widows, flying buttresses, ribbed vaulting, and the pointed arch that allowed for more of the weight to be distributed in other places besides the wall enabled for the brilliant rose windows and entire walls covered in stained glass windows that’s colloquially considered “gothic”. This was later in the medieval era, and France in particular saw a huge explosion of these buildings, leading to the infamous Notre Dame Cathedrals all over the country. So for the Diasmonia dorm, I imagine it would be modeled after these older gothic buildings especially looking at the height of the dorm interior. With each Cathedral being built, each sought to be higher and higher‒ “suspended from heaven itself”. We don’t see much height in the Diasmonia dorm, but we do still see that ribbed vaulting and pointed arches, so a clerestory isn’t out of the question. I hope we’ll see something with higher ceilings like the Hunchback Disney movie represented in Rollo’s dorm. (This is a threat, Disney. Give me flying buttresses, NOW)

I’m trying to be as precarious as possible adding irl artist names lol. But for the sake of conversation/development I decided I would add them in moderation. Trying not to think too hard about the implications of Van Gogh and the other impressionist artists existing in the Twisted Wonderland world lol just cause I think it would be just a bit difficult to do world building for in-universe artists that resemble irl artists. Also because I’m lazy

Also, going for a parental relationship with Trein

The gargoyle painting is heavily inspired by Monet’s Rouen Cathedral, West Facade (1894). It’s a beautiful morning piece, I thought the color palette makes it look sublime, which is what I was going for since I wanted the painting to sort of reflect the character’s perception of Malleus. Soft, gentle, and beautiful in its labor of love for gothic buildings. Though they can appear scary, they are actually meant to ward off evil. As I develop the story, I want Malleus to take this role as rock and protector of the character

LMK what you think :)

[bongo83cz]

She went away for the weekend and I was left home alone. I wandered around the apartment for a while, wondering what to do. I didn't want to do anything.

When I had a long moment, I went to take a shower and I shaved and... Well, a good bath must be good. And by that time, we were thinking all these horrible, horrible thoughts. So I dismantled the small shower and replaced it with an anal shower and inserted it deep into my ass. A gentle stream of warm water began to fill my guts and I felt pressure in my chest. When the pressure passed in a weak spasm, I turned off the water and hurried to the toilet to defecate while still wet. The puddles of water were left behind me and it flashed through my mind that I WOULD HAVE TO CLEAN THEM UP.

By then, my head was filled with ideas and sinful thoughts. First I'll clean myself up. That means repeated enemas, and until the water runs clear, I mustn't stop. So that I don't sleep, or rather, sleep more. Before the second dose, I took a wrench and a plastic disposable lock from the bedroom. Then I gave myself a second enema and before I went to the toilet I tied my penis, actually probably an overgrown clitoris, into the enema and secured it with a lock. Thanks to that I know that my arousal will be strong and I won't climax right away. A moment of struggle and everything was secured and the shot was already sounding. I still have to take a picture with my mobile phone. And then I moved to the toilet again. We repeated this procedure about four times before we found the anal cleanliness to be good. I documented and photographed everything. I figured out how to edit the photos and add comments to them.

I knew there was still a lot of water left in the bowels after the enema. That's why when I wiped myself I immediately reached for the inflatable anal colic. I inserted it and inflated it so that I felt a strong pressure bordering on slight pain. This inflatable colic as I hoped would keep the contents of the bowels safely inside my body and hopefully there would be no danger of some unfortunate accident. It was not comfortable and convenient, but that was not the point.

Plugged in, locked in, photographed. What else...

I deliberately left the colic hose between my legs. Firstly, it makes it easy to free myself at any time and secondly, the movement of the hose with the balloon at the end is so embarrassing.

I went to the bathroom again. Opened the cabinet and looked through my wife's memories. The first thing that caught my eye was the lipstick. My mistress and wife had already taught me how to do it. So I painted my lips. Well, that's nice, but I'd like to try something else. So I borrowed a crayon. It's a little first, but I've got two days to get rid of it. And so I took a paintbrush and very carefully tried to put the crayon on my lipstick, and the world was not so difficult. Obviously I'm not a marmy observer. Eyelashes and lips are done. For a while I looked for the rest of the licking, but since I have no idea how to handle it all I quickly abandoned my intention. I'm not a perfect diva.

We lacked many things to be a perfect diva, not just the licks. So I went back to the bedroom and pulled out our playful sliders and started to prepare my wardrobe and equipment.

So first, something to wear. I pulled out a black lace thong and put on a suit... Thanks to the fact that it was a thong, the hose didn't bother me so much. It was just the clicks that were a little harder to disguise. I put on a garter belt of the same color with the thong and complemented it with black soft stockings. I started to dress slowly. Learning from previous failures, I first put on the garter belt and then the thong. After all, when a girl wants to go to the bathroom, it's more practical. The damn elastic bands on the garters wouldn't hold, but after a while I tightened them and the beginning of dressing was over. But what next. I could wear a satin shirt, but that wouldn't be quite right today. So I had to go on a secret expedition to the satin zenith. I knew exactly what I was looking for. My lady has one of those nice black minis on her shoulder. Almost exactly my size. Thanks to the elastic, I don't have to worry about damaging them. Yeah, I'd get that. I found exactly what I was looking for. I carefully tried them on and in a moment they were hugging my body. Thanks to the fact that they are stretchy, they fit beautifully and you can put them on your nipples and nipples and there is no risk of the sats pulling them off. The plan was going well and I was starting to be quite happy with myself. Just take a wig to make it look better and voila... Well, it's not for clubbing, but it's enough for me to get a strong thrill at home. I'm still documenting everything carefully. Thanks to a selfie stick with a tripod I found a good place in the hallway by the closet where I know the photos will be good. The others are somehow out of hand. I'm shooting like crazy, eventually I'll pick something.

I put on my steamer trunks (giant size boats) and everything is almost ready. I will add a white apron for the maid because I have a lot of work ahead of me. The outfit is done and it's time to concentrate on the security.

Now I am in doubt whether to lock myself in metal handcuffs or use leather ones. Well, I guess metal ones are better for work. Because there's no danger of them coming loose. But before locking them, there's a crucial thing missing. Sure, without a collar, they'll punch our noses in. So vulture the red boats. The choice is clearly a red collar. Since I'm going to have metal handcuffs, I'm going for a red collar with silver studs. It's not my favorite, but I have to match. Collar tightened and immediately locked. The collar also requires a gag. Anyway, I have no one to talk to, so at least I will train, if I need to be obediently and humbly silent one day. A red ball and chain around the head, or a red leather harness with a ball. Tough choice. The ball and chain will fit nicely, but the harness when adjusted and tightened is so beautifully tight. The bullet can be extracted from the mouth with a little effort. Whereas with a harness, it is quite impossible. Well, the harness won. So put it on, plug it, take it off and lock it again. This is gonna hurt my bones, but the handle is so tight. I admit, if I didn't have it now, I'd be done with my right hand in seconds. But luckily I have it, so I'm just in a lot of pain. Besides, the running, bending and tearing is not exactly pleasing to that bloated intruder in my anus. It holds perfectly, but the comfort is not great and the bowel would probably want to empty again. Nothing can be done, first adjust the clog and secure it and then we can start to solve the emptying...

So after locking the gag, there was nothing to prevent me from securing my hands and feet. As I opted for the quick, if less swift, option. I made a little snap, snap, snap and snap and my hands and feet were firmly restrained. I also clipped a chain between the cuffs to bind them together and limit your range of motion. I also used the same reticule to connect the handcuffs to the collar. So my hands had only a very small range of movement and I had to be in a slight bend. I also considered wrapping the reticule around my waist, but that seemed too strict, considering that I wanted to clean up this way. At least then the disaster after bathing. As the last thing I did, I pinned on my nipples the scripts on the end of which were peasants and went to the toilet equipped in this way.

Here, with a little effort, I unbuttoned my anus and emptied myself. Then I again pricked the anus, because the risk and pleasure are still great.

And now the already groomed servant can kneel down and in handcuffs start cleaning the bathroom. So the rag and the vulture are on the move.

Imagination is one thing, but cleaning with handcuffs on is no fun. Especially when the handcuffs are connected to the collar and leg cuffs. So just wiping and cleaning the bathroom was a lot of work. Moreover, I had to go to the toilet twice more to relieve myself and again after emptying the toilet. On the positive side, however, only clean water came out of me.

So, drooling, sweaty and sweaty, I finished cleaning the bathroom and grabbed the vacuum cleaner. This made the work much easier, as I didn't have to move my hands so much. It wasn't such a problem to smell with my feet tied. Wiped, vacuumed, I'm quite pleased with myself. Maybe I deserve a little reward. And why not.

I'm gonna take off my scribbles and stick electrodes on instead of nothing. I'll also take out the inflatable coil behind the anus and replace it with an electrode. Since my clitoris is in the clit, I can't put the electrodes on it, but I can put the recess ring on the clit. I'll just add the electrodes to the triplets and roll out onto the couch and turn on the power. I'll set the 20 minutes to random program repeat and settle in. The power supplies are on. I select the intensity and strength of the discharge. I know I'm gonna run out of power in a while, so I don't put the sources too far away. Just turn on the selector on the key and 20 minutes of exciting rest can begin.

[ajoytobeheld]

Mega, depressive, all tomorrow's party post

May 8th, 2009

Today, we should be at ATP. BY RIGHTS!! The next three days promise to be a stream of torturous reminders that we’re not.

So, to celebrate the fact that I’m gonna be miserable this weekend while my friends tweet and facebook and blog about how they’re having an incredible time, as I sit LONELY at msn, ABANDONED, here are some stream of consciousness, non-proof read reminisces about the four ATPs that myself and other members of LC! have attended. Plenty of name-dropping because I’m depressed, alright?

MAY 2006 The United Sounds Of ATP. Our first ATP. Phil Elverum with Herman Dune as backing band. Neil and Tom paid for tickets. I got the other…five of our pals “press passes” due to me being a BIG PLAYER in student media at the time. We slept the seven of us in and around a single double bed. John slept with his head in a bin and wore a dress for the weekend, got recognised by Huw Stephens while hitching up his skirt in the . Tom and Neil got their picture taken with Bill Callahan. Immediately accidentally deleted it. Cried. Beth Ditto called me “the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”. Met a really awesome girl, wrote a song about it. Did a conga line whilst watching the Shins. Shared a chalet with a Sheffield Wednesday fan, he was very tall. Two litre bottles of Strongbow. Vodka and slush puppies. Might have met Josie Long. Dancing with Sleater-Kinney to ‘Hot Topic’ by Le Tigre, WHILST WEARING a Bikini Kill t-shirt. 33 at 45. Mascis playing guitar with BSS, and forgetting to mute his pedals whilst tuning up, LOL. Absolutely OWNING the dancefllor for the entire weekend.I kind of peaked here. Pretty certain this was the happiest weekend of my life.

MAY 2007 ATP VS THE FANS The moment, watching Architecture In Helsinki, that, all at once, about 25 blokes in the crowd noticed a bit of one of their songs sounded like the BBC Cricket coverage theme tune, massive grins. Starting the weekend off with The Thermals, meeting loads of people off Drowned In Sound in the front row. Somebody told me Daniel Johnston had missed his flight. I drunkenly announced it to loads of people. Daniel Johnston hadn’t missed his flight. I’m still very sorry. The Notwist being amazing. Got a verse out of this one too. Yoni Wolf and Dose One performing part of Physics Of A Unicycle together. Incredible. Missed Shellac because we watched the frankly FUCKING AWFUL Chelsea v Utd FA Cup final. Asked to do a Los Campesinos! v Mogwai 5-a-side football match. Too scared.

CAN’T FIND ANY PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE OF THIS ONE!!

MAY 2008 ATP VS PITCHFORK We played this one. Esiotrot/4 or 5 Magicians/Los Campesinos! 5-a-side. Lot of fun. Maybe shouldn’t go to ATP with a girlfriend, makes it a bit rubbisher. Also, don’t jump off the drum kit during your set and sprain your ankle and subsequently have to spend the rest of the weekend on crutches. Except, ATP only had one pair of crutches, and somebody had already taken. In extreme pain for the rest of the weekend. But playing was probably the proudest I’ve ever been. I CROWDSURFED!! Last day of the Premiership season, United win it at Wigan. Found a disposable barbecue with a human turd on it. Times New Viking dedicating a song to us, and hanging out with them all weekend, gettin’ waaaaaaasted man. Saw the guy, who had the crutches, CARRYING THEM, WALKING FINE!!! BASTARD!! Was offered a Zimmer frame.

DECEMBER 2008 NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS: MIKE PATTON/THE MELVINS Didn’t go until Saturday afternoon, because I had a football match Saturday morning. Watched about 3 bands. All very good, thank you very much. Watched about 5 football matches. Everton v Aston Villa was a hell of a game. United beat Fulham. Kept asking for beers with the stress on the wrong cyllables, hilarious. Got drunk and tried to go swimming. It was closed. Got tricked at ‘gay chicken’. Lots of Dance Dance Revolution. Me and Gui started our new band KrabIsland (news on that, never). I could be Teenage Jesus’ drummer.

I’ve been reasonably restrained here. Might add some more in a bit. We’ll be lucky if I don’t bust out crying…

No apologies made.

[jimmymcgools]

One scene from BCS that stuck in my mind: where Kim cries while hearing Jimmy read Chuck's letter to him (after funeral, in the kitchen).

I keep wondering why she was crying, it seems like it should be obvious but i feel like it was actually really cryptic.

This is all i came up with three options:

1. She knows Chuck is manipulating Jimmy and it's sad he doesn't love him because Jimmy really loves Chuck

2. She knows Chuck means what he wrote but just could never show it (and maybe she relates to that) and it's sad

3. She's been through something like that herself

although those are probably too specific and it's an array of things, but i could talk about it forever!!

So I'd be interested to read, why do you think she was crying?

All hail BCS !!! best show ever :D

hi!! thank you so much for asking. i agree, it's such a great scene!

it's a shame that the silly reddit "kim wrote the letter" theory got so popular, because i love to hear what the writers and actors have to say, and with this one they've had to spend time debunking that (which, bless them!) instead of spending the precious commentary or podcast time on the actual meat of it.

i feel like i should kick things off with my own take on the letter. i think it's a genuine effort from chuck to express some pride and relief towards jimmy (because it's relief, right? i'm not worried about you anymore). i always figured he wrote it in ~1997ish, which in my own timeline would line up with his divorce from rebecca.

it makes sense to me. he has to untangle his affairs after the divorce. he has to decide if jimmy gets any of his estate and he'd be thinking about jimmy (and also maybe thinking about the kind of brother he'd like be in death).

but then because he's chuck mcgill, he typed it and signed it and sealed it away.

but on to the kim scene!

and, ironically after all that, i think the contents of chuck's letter is almost irrelevant to her reaction. it doesn’t *help* that jimmy is reading words she knows he would’ve killed to hear for so many years, but it’s like she says in 4x10 -- it’s the way he reads it.

he’s so dispassionate and numb. he’s clearly burying his grief so deep that it’s not just that he’s not letting her see it, he’s not even letting himself feel it. he’s been acting like that since howard’s visit, but chuck’s letter is like an explosive charge -- no matter the contents, it’s gonna be powerful, it’s gonna do *something*, right?

she waits to give it to him. because she thinks it could be the thing that breaks him ( “am i really supposed to do this? to him?)

but he reads it and nothing changes.

that’s scary and she doesn’t know what to do. if jimmy broke down crying here, i think it would be a relief. it’s easier to know how to comfort a person who is grieving that outwardly. it’s a lot harder when jimmy is buzzing around making juice and coffee (with a little cinnamon in it! for flavour!).

(side note: i love how bob performs the letter reading scene. jimmy is so fidgety. his voice is calm but this is a cinnamon-coffee-breakfast-sandwich whirlwind of distraction, too. he’s eating cereal and drinking and wiping his face. i think there’s a part of jimmy that needs to get through this letter without cracking, because *he’s* so terrified of what might happen when he does. so he doesn’t look at kim and he keeps eating his damn cheerios)

(but he also makes her stay to listen to it. he turns the letter reading into a performance. it’s another way of hiding from real emotions, right? he can’t really do this blithe cereal-cronching show if it’s just him and the letter alone in a room)

so kim cries. she loves him and she wants to comfort him but i think this dispassionate reading of the one thing she thought was sure to be explosive is like... it shows just how much bigger and how much more daunting the gulf really is, between jimmy and his emotions. and the gulf between the way jimmy is grieving, and the way kim is grieving (because all her own grief is tangled up in there, too, and she hasn’t really had a chance to process that either)

i mean, i think kim *knows* that jimmy is acting like this whirlwind clown specifically so he doesn’t have to feel anything. of course she knows.

but if there’s that cavernous void between jimmy and his emotions, and jimmy’s not sharing them with her, and he’s not letting himself feel them at all, then she can’t respond to them, y’know? it’s making her powerless. if she wants to comfort jimmy then she’d have to argue with him first, because he’s going to tell her he’s fine! he doesn’t need comforting!

so jimmy is burying the monster and now kim can’t do anything to fight the monster, but she knows it’s there, festering and getting darker. terrifying.

[hereforbords]

Need a little sweetness in my life

This is something self-indulgent that I wrote when I started my period this last weekend...not beta’d, so all errors are mine. Don’t know anyone, yadda yadda... :) Don’t like it, don’t read it.

TW: bleeding/periods (let me know if I need to tag it differently and I will)

Title stolen from “Sugar” by Maroon 5.

The stabbing pain woke you up. You let out a small whimper and quickly closed your mouth, hoping you hadn’t woken your boyfriend up (he’d gotten in late last night off the plane and you wanted him to sleep as much as possible). A quick look at the clock beside your bed told you it had been enough time since your last dose of meds, so you got up and made your way to the bathroom. You used the bathroom and grabbed the Midol. You threw them back with a sip of water and then went back to bed. Since he didn’t make any movements, you figured he was still asleep. You crawled back under the covers and slept as well.

In the morning, his side of the bed was empty. You didn’t hear the fire alarm going off, so you figured he wasn’t making breakfast (that was another story for another day). You sat up slowly, waiting for everything to right itself (the first day was always the worst). That’s when you saw the note on the table, along with the Gatorade and Midol bottle.

Went to the store. Be back in a few. Take these if you need them. Love you babygirl.

You couldn’t help the tears that sprang to your eyes (damn hormones). Of course, Bords chose that moment to come home. As he walked into the bedroom, he saw your face. “Hey, what’s going on honey? Why are you crying?” he came over to sit beside you and started rubbing your back. “It’s ok. I’m here.”

“You…” you hiccupped. “How did you know?” You couldn’t say what was really on your mind- I don’t deserve you.

He laughed a little. “Babygirl, I have a sister. I know all the tells. Plus, not to be rude, but you get kinda mean right beforehand.”

“I do not! You take that…” you started, only to stop yourself and laugh. “Ugh. Point taken.” You paused. “I didn’t wake you up last night, did I?”

“No.” he said. “I found the pill bottle on the bathroom counter this morning.” He reached behind him. “Here. I got you all your favorite things. I was thinking we could do a heating pad and couch cuddles? I’ll even watch one of those cheesy Lifetime movies you like so much if you want.”

That was when you said the words that had been on your mind. “What did I ever do to deserve someone like you?” That set off a fresh round of tears.

“You’re just you.” He said, suddenly realizing that you probably hadn’t had someone treat you so well before. “Come on, no more tears.” He reached out his hand. “Let’s go. Today’s all about you.”

Later, as you were snuggled together on the couch, him holding the heating pad against your stomach and said cheesy Lifetime movie on (because if he was willing to watch it without complaint, you were going to take full advantage of it), you said, “Thank you so much. This has been the best first day of a period I can remember in a long time.”

“You’re welcome. You want food from that place on 17th?” he asked.

“Yes please.” You grinned. “I love you.”

“Love you too babygirl.”

*

The next morning, things were a lot better and you didn’t feel like dying anymore. Thomas was gone when you woke up, but you knew he’d be back soon, so you started working on breakfast.

When he came in the door, the first thing he noticed was you over the stove, looking more like yourself today. He couldn’t help the grin that came over his face as he came over to wrap you in a hug from behind. “Good morning sunshine. Are we feeling better today?”

“Much. Thank you for yesterday,” you said, flipping the pancakes over. “You want bacon?”

“Yes please.” You threw a couple more pieces in the skillet (and fixed him with a look when he tried to steal a piece off your plate). “Alright, missy, I won’t steal your bacon.” he laughed. “No need to give me a death glare.”

“Sorry.” You laughed. “What are your plans for today?”

“Not too much. Have a little homework to do, and then was planning on taking it easy. Why?” he looked over to you.

“I was thinking,” you said, turning over his bacon, “I could take you out to a movie or something you wanted to do, since you took such good care of me yesterday.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He said. “I wasn’t doing it with the expectation of getting anything in return. I just wanted to take care of you.”

“I know,” you said, “and that’s a new feeling for me. I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.” You handed him his plate.

“You don’t…” he paused. Seeing you get that look on your face again, he knew this was one of those battles to not fight. You’d definitely have to talk about this later. “Alright, yeah, we can do that. You’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, right?”

“Of course.” You ate breakfast in a comfortable silence, and you went to shower while he worked on his homework. You were in the middle of a Rizzoli and Isles episode when he came down.

“Are you still up for that movie?” He asked, looking at you so comfortable on the couch. He almost felt bad for making you get up and move; he knew his sister liked to stay as comfortable as possible the first couple days. But he reminded himself that you had promised to tell him if things were too much.

“Yeah, let’s go.” You stood up. “Um, let me go use the bathroom real quick and then I’ll be good.”

The movie was good, but it definitely wore you out. When you got home, you changed into a pair of sweats and one of Thomas’ t-shirts and told him you were going to take a nap. “I know the boys wanted to come over. That’s fine as long as you aren’t too loud.”

“I can cancel if you want.” He said. “It’s fine.”

“No. You need your time with them too.” You said. “Have fun, ok?”

“Alright.” He shut your bedroom door and went back downstairs.

You were still semi-awake when the boys came in. You heard Matty ask where you were. When Bords said you had fought a shark (you had to hide your laughter into the pillow), Matty and Truss hummed a “oh”. (They had sisters too, so they were familiar with Bords meant). Briss just sounded confused, but said he hoped you were feeling better soon.

You dozed for a few, until a cramp woke you up. It was too soon for more meds, so you decided you would go down and see your boys. They would distract you for awhile.

“Hey.” Bords said as you came down and sat in his lap. “You ok? Were we too loud?”

“No. You guys were fine. Couldn’t really nap.” You said, grabbing his hand and putting it on the side where the cramping was worst. Bords understood what you needed and started rubbing at that area without you needing to use your words.

“Oh. I get it.” Briss said as he watched the interaction. You chuckled. “We can leave.”

“Stay.” You said, leaning into Bords’ side. After a while, you decided it was time to go back up to the room. You stood up to leave. “I’m ok. Sleepy now.” You looked at Bords.

“Cuddle pile?” Matty asked, hopeful. That was one of the things you guys had done when Bords was still living with Matty and Truss and you had a rough day. To be honest, you had missed it.

You raised an eyebrow at Bords, who nodded. “Yeah. Cuddle pile.” You said. “Briss, you’re more than welcome to join, but you have to be quiet.”

“I can do that.”

It took a little work (you had never done it with four people before, but it actually was a little better, because you could have a boy on each side of your abdomen, instead of just Bords on top of you covering both sides unequally. 

You fell asleep pretty quickly, and when you woke up, all the boys were passed out as well (and you didn’t miss the way Truss had his hand on Matty’s abdomen in a possessive type of way. You grinned-they had finally figured their shit out too it looked like.)

“Alright, boys, cuddle pile is over,” you said, getting up. “I’ll make you all dinner if you want to stay.”

“You want some help mom?” Matty asked, using the nickname he’d given you a long time ago.

“Sure thing. Set the table?” You asked. “Truss, you wanna help chop the veggies?”

“Yeah.” Truss was down the hall. It was just you, Briss, and Bords in the room.

“Mom?” Brendan asked. You found yourself explaining everything to him; when he asked, “can you adopt me too?” You looked at Bords.

“What do you say, dad? Think we can handle another one?”

“I can if you can.” He grinned.

“Alright, Briss, get over here.” You said. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thanks mom.”

When you told Matty and Truss that Briss was their new brother, you were expecting the whoops and cheers. You weren’t expecting Truss to throw a carrot at Briss though. You laughed, which made your side hurt a little. Bords came up to you and rubbed your side.

“Jacob! That’s no way to treat your brother.” Bords said. “You apologize right now.”

“Sorry.” Truss said.

“And Matty, don’t think I didn’t see you snickering over there.” You added, leaning into Bords just a little.

“Sorry mom.”

Dinner was nice, and then the boys went home and it was just you and Bords again. “Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” You paused. “Thank you for always taking care of me and knowing what I need. I love you.”

“You’re welcome. I love you too babygirl.”

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

A Fool of Me

A/N: Hey guys! This one’s a request from @peachylemasters​. I hope I did it justice, I had to tweak some details to fit the plot but I think I hit all the notes. If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Spencer runs into a toxic ex-girlfriend at an event a kind receptionist saves him from himself.

Category: Equal doses of smut, angst, and fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, spanking, alcohol consumption, brief descriptions of panic/stress, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 4.7k 

Request: “Hey good morning or afternoon I heard you were taking requests. I thought of an idea we're Spencer Reid goes to a party and meets his ex. Things start off smooth and knows if he goes back to her, he will revisited bad and the good moments he had with her. Until a hostess see's Spencer going insane because he's talking to his ex. She helps him out and they start to know each other. Things get out of hands between them. So that was an idea. Don't know if I made it confusing. Have a great day✨❤”

   Spencer had had enough socializing for one day. It was enough that he had to attend panels all day, which really, he didn’t mind that part. He just hated having all the conversations afterward.

So his battery was really draining by the time the post-convention event was supposed to take place in the hotel’s ballroom. It was supposed to be a time for all of the people who’d spent the whole weekend working to finally blow off some steam. Have some non-work related conversations.

But Spencer hated parties. He didn’t like being surrounded by so many people, or having to have the same little nothing conversations over and over all evening. At least he was put up in a hotel this time around so he could retreat to the quiet of his room for a little while in the middle of the day, but that could only last so long.

She’s the very first thing he notices as he walks through the doors to the ballroom. Rachel. Perched on a high stool at the bar, hair cascading down her back, in perfect contrast to her dress. It was red and hugged her perfectly, like it always did. He’d seen her in it before a few times, he knew it made her feel confident.

He has no idea if he wants to talk to her, part of him wants to race over and give her his room key without a word. The other wants to turn on his heel immediately and bolt out of there. But he doesn't get to make the decision, she’s spotted him in the doorway and is more sure of herself. Beckoning him over with a wave.

He takes the stool next to her, and already he doesn’t feel great about it. She had this way of bewitching him, over and over he’d end up lying next to her in bed and waking up to an empty space in the morning. They couldn’t seem to keep their distance for very long.

When he sits she’s already ordered him a drink, and it’s his usual, and he hates that she remembered it. Or he hates that he likes the way it makes him feel warm inside. That it wasn’t just him who held onto some of their shared memories. So he takes a sip.

—

It’s been a slow night on the reception desk, so when Y/N sees him walking down the staircase into the lobby she can’t help but gawk. His suit is navy and impeccable, it fits him so snug on the shoulders that it must’ve been made for him. Which is a funny juxtaposition next to his hair which looks like he ran his fingers through it at best, curly, and unruly on top of his head. But it suits him.

She follows him with her eyes from her perch at the desk, watching him until he stops abruptly at the doorway to the ballroom. There’s a swarm of people gathered inside so maybe he was just the kind of person who was nervous around crowds. But that doesn’t feel right, the look on his face is all together terrified until it softens and he walks inside.

She has to move along the desk a little so she can see where he ends up once he makes it inside. And of course he’s next to a woman, a beautiful one too, in a tight dress. So that solves the mystery of why he looked so nervous. But that does little to actually satiate her desire to keep her eyes on him. On them.

Something doesn’t feel right about it, as thought it might not even be a date, like maybe this guy really didn’t want to be there. It must’ve been the way he looked at her, or the way he sat so awkwardly in his seat, his body language betraying him.

—

Spencer lets himself take her in for a moment, his eyes raking up and down her figure as she takes a prolonged sip from her wine glass. She might actually look better than the last time he’d seen her.

It had been a whole year. And they’d already been broken up, and back together, and broken up a few times over at that point. So it really was his fault that it happened again, they’d slept together, and she’d promised him more, and left him again. Like always.

He knew, he really did, deep down he knew she was bad for him. But she was magnetic.

“Do you like my dress Spence?” she asks, sultry and smooth. And she already knows he does, he’s told her before.

“You look very nice” he tries not to give too much away.

“I seem to recall you thinking I looked a hell of a lot more than nice in this dress?” she leans in a little as she speaks and it makes his heart flutter in his chest. But it somehow makes his stomach drop in the same instant. She turns her body towards his completely. Leaning in even closer now, and she puts her hand on his fucking thigh, and for a second he forgets how to breathe entirely.

“As a matter of fact” she coos, “I think I remember you telling me to keep it on while you fucked me, what was it, a year ago now?”

“372 days” is all he can force out. And he wants to lean into her touch, he wants to melt into her, let her do whatever she wants with him for as long as she wants to. But he knows it’ll just break him all over again. He wants to pull away but he just can’t, and he’s absolutely transfixed on her fingers squeezing his leg when they’re interrupted.

“Sorry, are you Dr. Spencer Reid?” the woman enquires, glancing at his little hand written name tag. He just forces a meek nod, “There’s a call for you if you want to follow me?” she motions for him to stand up and so he does, pulling himself from Rachel’s grip.

His immediate feeling is of overwhelming relief. He knew he was out of his depth from the moment he’d sat down. He was silently thankful for whatever case was about to whisk him away from this stupid convention.

He followed behind the woman, she led him out of the ballroom and down a quiet hotel hallway until she just stopped in her tracks in the middle of it, leaning against the wall. He could only look at her confused.

“The uh? The phone?” he tries to ask.

“Sorry,” she forces out a deep breath, “there actually wasn’t any call, I could tell— you looked like you needed some help?” she chances, “I’m really sorry if I overstepped, or misread that”

He lets out a huge sigh of relief, “Oh thank god”

“So I read it right?” she asks, relaxing against the wall now.

“So so right, you’ve got no idea” the relief only lasts for another moment before his eyes blow wide and he starts to pace frantically in the hallway.

“Dr. Reid? Are you okay? What’s going on?” she asks, trying to decipher his sharp change in mood. He starts to breathe in short panicked bursts and he seems like he’s really about to freak out again. She ushers him to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs that litters the hallway. So he does, and he immediately braces his head between his knees.

“Can I ask what’s wrong? Do you want me to get you some water?” He just shakes his head, his breathing unsteady and ragged, she recognizes it well.

“Spencer” She says it firm and commanding to get his attention, but soft enough not to startle him, “I want you to breathe in through your nose for me, we’re gonna do that for 4 seconds” she counts down for him, “now hold that breath for 7 seconds” she counts again, soft and slow, “then I want you to breathe all of that out through your mouth this time, and we’re gonna do that for 8 seconds.” He sits up straight and nods at her.

She counts out the cycle for him again and again until Spencer can feel his heart rate fall, settling into a steady rhythm of breathing until he feels calm again. And in this state he can finally take a good look at this girl. She’s crouched down next to him as he sits, with one of her hands resting against his knee. And instead of earlier, her hand feels comforting, grounding. It feels nice in an entirely different way than Rachel’s hand.

He looks down at the little gold name tag pinned to the lapel of her dress.

“Thank you Y/N” he says softly, and she smiles up at him.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” she tries again, gentle, not prying, just hoping.

“I left my jacket in there” he rubs his eyes with his hands like he’s in pain, “It’s got my phone and my wallet, but I can’t go back in there. If I go back she’ll suck me in again and I don’t want— I can’t!” she tries to soothe him, gently moving her hand along his leg.

“Don’t worry about that” she encourages, “Have you got your room key?” He quickly fumbles and pulls it out of the pocket of his slacks, and nods, awaiting further instruction.

“What room are you in?”

“407?”

“Great, you go on up, splash some cold water on your face and relax. I’m going to go get your stuff. I’ll tell that woman that you had an emergency and had to leave. Then I can can bring your jacket up to you. No problem” she says it like it’s obvious, and Spencer can barely contain his relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he asks,

“Positive” she confirms with a soft smile and a pat on his shoulder as she stands up.

—

Once Y/N’s confident he’s making his way back up stairs she heads straight to the ballroom. Now that she’s actually about to talk to this woman she’s nervous.

“Sorry ma’am” she starts, and the woman turns to look at her, and she’s so intimidatingly beautiful up this close, “your friend had an emergency and he’s got to leave. He asked me to send you his apologies.” her perfect face falls, unable to hide her disappointment. Y/N takes his jacket off the back of the chair and drapes it over her arm.

“Can you give him a message for me?” the woman asks, gripping Y/N by the elbow just as she makes her move to leave, she nods politely.

“Just tell him that I’ll get him next time” she says it like it’s some inside joke he’ll understand, but Y/N knows what she means and it honestly makes her feel a little sick. As she walks away she’s already decided she’s not going to tell Spencer anything.

—

Spencer’s been pacing around his room for the last 17 minutes. Y/N shouldn’t be taking this long, he wasn’t entirely sure why but he was getting himself worried again, working himself up over nothing. But his body relaxed when he heard a soft knock against the door, he all but sprinted over to open it. To her standing right there, his jacket draped over one arm and a room service platter gripped in her hands.

“Thank you” he exhales, pulling open the door so that she can could walk inside and leave both items down on the bed. He points to the platter, its contents covered by a large silver dome. “What’s…” he’s not really sure what to ask.

“I hope you don’t mind, I stopped by the kitchen on my way up, thought you might like some comfort food?” as she explains she pulls the dome off the tray, showing him the plethora of desert she’d taken from the kitchen.

“There was no need” he starts but she cuts him off.

“Nonsense! The guys in the kitchen don’t mind. If there’s nothing you like here I can have something else sent up?” she says it in a polished ‘customer service voice’, sickly sweet. And all of a sudden he feels a little silly that he hadn’t noticed it sooner. She was just a good employee, going the extra mile for a customer. This wasn’t about him.

“No, god no. You’ve done plenty already, and besides, I’m sure you’ve got to get back to work?” he tries to give her an out as they stand awkwardly looking at each other.

“Actually I’m good, I wont be missed” she begins but stops her train of thought, of course this was overstepping, she was probably freaking him out, “But you probably want to relax, I’ll get out of your hair” she nods politely and starts to make her way back to the door.

“Unless” it rushes out of him and he's not sure where it really came from, “When your shift’s over would you maybe want to— This is an awful lot of food—“ he just gives up on his original sentence and tries it all over again, “When’s your shift over?” her asks plainly and it startles her. But she can’t really do much to contain the grin that spreads across her cheeks.

“What time is it now?” she asks, pointing to the watch on his wrist.

“Uh, 11:43pm?” he offers.

“So 43 minutes ago” she feels silly saying it out loud now. That she’d gotten carried away watching him while she waited for her co-worker to take over the desk, and she just couldn’t stop herself from intervening the second her shift was over. But he doesn’t look freaked out by her admission, he looks genuinely happy for the first time since she’d laid eyes on him.

“You— You’ve been off this whole time?”

She gives him a little nod, bashful, “You looked like you needed help” she shrugs, trying to play it off.

“But I— You should’ve gone home, I would’ve been okay” no sooner does he get the words out than he realizes they’re a blatant lie, “That’s not true” he confesses, “If you’d’ve gone home I’d probably have already made so many stupid decisions by now and I’d be having my heart broken as we speak”

“Would you maybe want me to stay with you for a bit? Just to make sure you don’t go doing anything stupid?” she asks sultry, and it’s the first time she’s overtly flirted all night. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he nods wholeheartedly.

Admittedly he knows that if Y/N stays he’ll probably just make a different kind of stupid mistake, but he can allow himself this one.

“I’d like that a lot”

—

They sit cross legged on his bed for a while, sharing a slice of chocolate cake. Spencer had started trying to explain what his relationship with Rachel had been like but decided against it. She wasn't going to get to ruin any more of this night than she already had. Instead he changes focus in the only way he knows how.

“Did you know that chocolate can actually affect your mood significantly?” he says as she scoops a forkful of cake off the plate between them, “A key chemical in cacao stimulates the brains level of naturally occurring endorphins and increases the production of serotonin?”

She chews thoughtfully for a moment, “So that’s why cake makes me feel so good?” and he giggles, nodding enthusiastically, “Got any more genius?” she asks with a grin.

“Did you know that chocolate contains the amino acid L-arginine which can be an effective natural sex enhancer for both men and women?” he can already feel his face start to flush, why did he start saying this, “It increases nitric oxide and promotes blood flow to the sexual organs” he finishes the thought and feels like crawling in a hole.

She’s got no idea if he’s just passionate about facts and chocolate, or if this is just his version of putting on the moves, but what has she really go to lose here. So she takes the opening.

“You got me.” she says with a coy smile, “That was actually my plan all along, to ply you with chocolate” she scoops some of the chocolate icing from the top of the cake with her fingertip, popping it in-between her lips and sucking it off slowly, deliberately. She looks over at him and his eyes are fixed on her lips and the finger caught between them. When she removes it to talk she feels confident that she’s got his attention now.

“Did it work?” she almost moans it and his breathing pretty much stops.

Working on instinct he moves his body so that he’s right next to her, leaning right in, and he presses his lips to hers. She opens them right away and he can taste the chocolate that’s lingering on her tongue and it’s perfect.

It doesn’t last for long, but when they break apart she picks up the plate between them and places it safely on the nightstand. With the bed clear she sits up on her knees so she can move closer to Spencer, throwing her legs either side of his and straddling his lap. The skirt of her dress hiking up in the process to expose the smooth skin of her thighs.

Spencer’s hands fly straight down to them automatically, digging his nails in and pulling her closer, further up his lap. Her hands end up tangled in that perfectly messy hair of his, making it worse, but even more perfect at the same time.

They stay tangled like that for a while, grinding against one another, mouths moving frantically, hands squeezing, pulling. Desperately seeking contact.

It’s when she can feel him start to get hard beneath her that his mood seems to shift, changing his position so that he can flip her over completely. Laying her flat on her back on the bed, one of his hands pinning both of hers above her head as his other hand moves up the hem of her skirt. Inching further and further until he reached her panties, grazing the damp patch between her thighs.

“Fuck Spencer” she moans out at the contact, encouraging him, and he seems to appreciate it. His mouth attaching to her neck, sucking and biting in an attempt to leave his mark on her.

He lets up a few moments later, releasing her hands mostly so that he could begin to undo the buttons along the front of her dress, taking his time to unfasten each and every one of them so that it would fall open, exposing her to him.

“You’re so beautiful” he moans out, his hands starting to roam along all bare skin he could see. And she could feel every little touch, but she needed to see him, to touch him too. So she sat up as best as she could and began to undo the buttons of Spencer’s dress shirt. With his help they were both lying on the bed together in nothing but their underwear. Lips ferociously working against one another yet again.

“What do you like Spencer?” it comes out as a breathy moan when she can finally remove her lips from his for a second, “What do you want?”

He’s caught of guard by the question, Rachel never cared what he wanted. He looks down at her, the erratic rise and fall of her chest, the way her lips were slick and a little swollen, and the pure kindness behind her eyes. For a second he thought he might be in love already, but he knew that was silly. He had to think for a moment before he found the answer.

“Control” it escapes him before he realizes why. He’s never had it before, not in his love life, not in his sex life. But now, now he feels safe enough to ask.

“You want to be in charge?” she asks and he nods his head in confirmation.

“Okay” she smiles, “So tell me what to do” her eyes lock on his and he swears he can feel his heartbeat all over his entire body.

“Turn over” is the first thing he thinks of, and so she does.

Flipping over beneath him, her face tilted sideways so he can still see her as she lays on her front on top of the crisp white linen. He plants a soft kiss at the base of her neck and slowly snakes down along her spine, coming to a stop around her hips. He places his hands either side of her, gripping her hips with probably more force than necessary.

“Up” it’s just shy of a growl, and she complies, lifting her hips up off the bed, bending her knees beneath her. “No” he breathes out against her ear, “Just your hips” she adjusts her position a little and can hold it just long enough for him to slide one of the fluffy hotel pillows into the gap between her and the bed. Tilting her hips ever so slightly. “Perfect” he groans right against her ear.

He continues to move back down her body, once he reaches the swell of her ass this time though he grabs it roughly, his nails scratching the delicate skin as he paws at her. She can’t keep her moan contained as it rushes out of her.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice absolutely dripping with lust.

“Uh huh” she whines into the pillows. He takes that as a sign of encouragement, taking his hand off her before coming down swiftly on her ass cheek, she could feel the heat of it right away, the sharp sting of pain it left behind felt way better than it had any right to.

“Ah fuck” her moan rips through her without warning, so he does it again, a little harsher this time. And the noise echos throughout the room, followed by the filthiest moan Spencer’s ever heard in his life. It gets a little muffled in the pillows but he can still hear it.

“Harder” she lets out, and it���s such a small little voice.

“What was that Y/N?” he teases, leaning over her grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her face out of the pillows with it.

“Ah, harder, please” she begs this time and it makes him feel so, so good.

He returns to his position behind her again, raising his palm and letting it come down again in the exact same place where a raised handprint was starting to form already. The noises that escape her are pornographic and he had no idea his cock could even be this hard.

He takes some time to remove her panties, hooking his fingers into them on either side and peeling them down along her legs. The first thing he sees is how incredibly wet she is, dripping down the inside of her legs already.

“Oh you really liked that” he teases, “You’re fucking soaking wet from just a little spanking” she whines beneath him.

“Want you so bad” is all she can manage to say. He moves her legs a little further apart fully opening her up to him and he bites his lip at the picture in front of him. Taking two of his fingers he brings them right to her entrance, sinking them in slowly, curving them against her walls as he works in and out of her at an agonizing pace.

“Fuck, Spencer, oh my god” her breathing is frantic already as she squirms from the stimulation.

“Good girl, you think you’re ready to take my cock?” he asks, pushing in a third finger as deep at they’ll go, her back arches into his touch, forcing her ass further up against him.

“Yes, Spencer! Please!” she rasps as he drifts his thumb over her swollen clit.

“Okay baby” he pulls his fingers out of her, leaning forward again he brings his fingers up to her, and hooks them into her mouth, pulling her face up out of the pillows so he can hear her little whines. She sucks on the fingers in her mouth, tasting herself on them and at the same time she can feel Spencer’s cock pressed up against her ass.

Once she lets his fingers go he’s bracing himself above her, an arm either side of her torso, and his legs between hers. He takes some time to line up properly, before teasing at her entrance. When she’s practically begging beneath him he sinks in slowly.

“Spencer” she moans out uncontrollably. He’s not even fully inside of her yet and already she feels full.

“So fucking tight, so wet for me Y/N” he gasps, the feeling of her warm and clenching around him is almost too much. After she’s gotten used to the feeling of him he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust deep and deliberate, hitting right against her walls every single time.

She’s nearly crying at the stimulation, getting fucked into the bed, his cock pushing into her impossibly deep each time, hitting spots she didn’t even know she had. And there’s the added pleasure of the way his hips slam right up against her bruised ass each time he thrusts into her that just makes it all the sweeter.

She can tell he’s getting close now, by the way his movements are growing faster and a little less controlled by the second. But she wasn’t far off either, she couldn’t take much more.

“So close Spencer, feels so fucking good” she mumbles out.

And then the does the unexpected he changes his position, leaning down closer, so he was nearly flush against her back, almost pinning her down with his weight but not quite. The angle he hits her from now is definitely something new, she’s pretty sure he’s hitting right against her g-spot with every motion and she can’t contain herself now.

“Fuck! Spencer! Gonna cum” she’s pretty much screaming into the pillows and he continues to fuck into her. He’s releasing himself a moment later, his head coming to rest on her shoulder as he spills inside of her. Riding it out for another moment to two.

They stay like that for a little while, collapsed in a heap on top of one another, completely spent. When he does pull out he’s so careful, making sure she’s comfortable, racing to the bathroom to grab a washcloth and whatever lotion the hotel had.

He takes some time to clean her up before any of the mess they’ve made can dry between her legs. Then he takes some of the lotion and smooths it gently on the skin of her backside, taking care not to irritate it. He puts on a fresh pair of briefs and grabs her a t-shirt from his suitcase for her to sleep in, and her heart softens at the gesture.

When they both snuggle up under the covers, completely exhausted, she takes him in her arms, cuddling up to his back and spooning him. He needed to feel in control earlier, but she could tell what he needed now was comfort, safety, and reassurance that she wouldn’t be gone in the morning.

“Spencer?” she whispers against his ear,

“Y/N?” he responds in kind.

“Are you free for breakfast tomorrow?” she asks, and he knows she can’t see it with his back turned but he can’t contain the sleepy smile that he breaks out in. He’s only known this girl for a few hours and she was able to read him like a book.

“Absolutely”

--

Masterlist

--

Permanent Taglist:

@pinkdiamond1016​

[objection-argumentative]

Surprise

Axel- Newborn

@teamsladsandgents

@tinyboxxtink

You were sat at your desk waiting for partner Johnson to come back from the break room. He was going through a nasty divorce, and his soon to be ex-wife had called him to give him a piece of her mind. While waiting for your partner, your mind starts to wander. You and your husband had a long romantic weekend in the Hamptons a few weeks ago, and you barely left the cabin. You remember making love to Rafael on the rug in front of the fire with champagne, worlds away from Bronx homicide cases you're looking at right now.      

Your partner Gavin Johnson came out of the break room looking defeated.

"How did it go?" you ask cautiously.

"Joanne gets Brandon over Christmas, and I get him for one night in between Christmas and new year." Gavin is nearly in tears, knowing he won't get to see his six-year-old over the holidays.  

"Want to go get lunch?" You ask, knowing that your partner needs to get out of the station.

"Yeah, sounds good your driving though" he throws the car keys for you to catch.

You start to drive into Manhattan towards the courthouse. You have a case that is up for an indictment after lunch, plus you can drop off lunch to your husband before anyone realises you're missing.

You sat down at the table all of a sudden you have backache and stomachache. It wasn't an awful pain, but it was noticeable. You could only eat half of your chicken salad, and you couldn't finish your soda.

"You alright, Y/L/N? Usually, you eat more than me," your partner laughs, and you brush the comment off, trying to forget about your pain. You need to get out of the restaurant. You flag down a waiter and order a coffee and a Cuban sandwich for your husband. You decide to wait by the doors for the food after you paid the bill. You didn't have to wait long-only five minutes. You tell Johnson you will see him in court later.

You didn't mean to dose off, but here you are, running down the street like a woman possessed to get to the courthouse on time. You made it by the skin of your teeth. Then, finally, you got into the courtroom and took a seat. You couldn't wait to see if the rat bastard could be put away for life. The ADA Harry McAlister was ruthless and was doing a fantastic job. Then, all of a sudden, you felt hot and dizzy. You grabbed the bottle of water out of your handbag and drank half of it. Then, the room started to go blurry. You couldn't make out what was being said in the hearing. The next thing you know, you are in a hospital bed with Rafael by your side.

Rafael was finishing up some paperwork on a warrant when he heard Carmen ask if he could see anyone. He knew Detective Munch would be on his way for the warrant, but he didn't expect it to be so soon.

"Carmen, show them in", he sighed. He could feel a migraine coming on. The last thing he needed was a member of SVU shouting at him because he couldn't take it today. Oh, how he wished he was still with you in the Catskills in your perfect little bubble.

"Hey, you hungry, Rafi" you walk into the room and put the bag of food and coffee onto his desk. You look at your husband and realise he has a migraine coming on.

"Thank you, Carino" he places a kiss onto your lips.

You go into your handbag and fish out painkillers. You find a strip with only two pills left. You hand them to your husband, making a mental note to leave early to get some more for your back and stomach.

"Are you ok, baby? You look very pale, and your sweating" you nod your head.

"Rafi, I'm fine, just getting a nasty cold, that's all" you tried to reassure him, but he wasn't convinced. So instead, he made you lay on his office couch until you had to leave for court.

"Rafael, my vacation days have been approved; as of tomorrow, I'm off for two weeks for the holidays."

" I will hold you to that. Two weeks of no work, just us, will be great. My mami will be ecstatic that you will be able to come to the Christmas eve fair tomorrow." You smile, you couldn't lie, the Christmas eve fare did sound impressive, but you were always working the previous years.

"Rafael, what happened?" you croaked out.

"You collapsed, baby", He answered you sadly.

"I meant in the trial."  He gave you a look to say, don't even try to work. He was worried that you had overworked yourself. You killed the conversation knowing it was pointless to ask.

"Do people know we are together now?" you curiously ask.

"Your partner does. He promised he wouldn't say anything. Plus, your Captin Murphy already knew." He knew it still bothered you about being found out at work. He couldn't say he blamed you. Just as you started to get comfortable, a doctor entered the room.

"Mrs Barba, How are you feeling?" The doctor was overly happy to see you. It reminded you of a children's show presenter.

"I'm fine. I want to go home to my bed, doc" She laughed, and Rafael threw you a warning look to hold your tongue.

"Well, we are going to keep you in for overnight observation, but everything looks normal, Mrs Barba."  You smile and nod your head, and settle into the small hospital bed. When the doctor leaves the room, you ask Rafael for your laptop and your phone. He reluctantly gave you them even after you promised not to do any work—you hotspot your laptop and loaded Christmas with the Kranks on Netflix.

"Baby come cuddle with me and watch the movie" Rafael smiles and slides into bed with you. He holds you tight, and you fall asleep on his chest just like at home.                        

*4 am*

You woke up to a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. It lasted for 30 seconds and came back after a couple of minutes. You wake up Rafael and tell him.

"I will get the doctor Carino" he leaves the room to fetch the doctor from the nurse's station. Meanwhile, in your room, you have an overwhelming feeling to push. You start to push when the doctor comes fleeing into the room.

"Mrs Barba, What is going on?" The doctor asks you.

"Something is coming out of me" the doctor lifts your surgical gown, and both the doctor and your husband gasp.

"Is that a head?" You hear Rafael asks

"Yes, Mr Barba, That is a head. Mrs Barba, let's get this baby out of you." You are very confused. You didn't even know you were pregnant, never mind nine months pregnant.

"Excuse me, a minute" you see your husband leave the hospital room and walk around the corner. You tried not to think about your husband, who has just abandoned you in your hour of need. Instead, you focus on pushing your baby out of your body. The doctor helps you sit into a better position to deliver when Rafael comes back into the room and grabs your hand.

"You have this Y/N. I love you so much" he kisses the back of your hand as you squeeze his hard when another contraction hits.

"That's the head, Mrs Barba. One more push and your baby will be here."  you nod your head and focus on pushing the baby out.

"Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Barba, it's a boy!" your doctor cheered as she held up your crying son.

"I'm just going to get him cleaned up and run a few tests to make sure he is ok" she scoops up your son and heads out of the room.  

"Rafael?" you look at him, and he looks at you with the biggest grin on his face and a tear in his eye.

"Don't worry, Carino, I called Mami. She is taking the emergency bank card and going to the baby store for us. We will have everything and more by the time we get home tomorrow morning. I will put the furniture up tomorrow." He placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Don't worry, Carino. I will sort everything to get our son home."

Just as he finished speaking, the doctor comes back with your son. He is wrapped up in a blanket and has a blue hat on his head.

"Say hello to your perfectly healthy baby boy," the doctor said to you as she placed him into your arms.  He was nice and cosy, wrapped up in the blanket. He latched his left hand around your finger. This action melted your heart. You looked to your left to see Rafael, who was sat right beside you, crying.

"He is perfect, Carino." You place the baby into Rafael's arms.

" Welcome to the world, little one."  Your husband smiled down to your son, knowing he was hooked on him.        

[some-kindofgnome]

sick day

Hawks comes home after a few days away. You’ve come down with a nasty cold in his absence. 

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), reader with a head cold (lil snot action here and there), soft soft SOFT hawks who goes down on u in the morning >:) 

requests: from 2 anons!: I have a request ! I love me some hawks taking care of his sick s/o and when they are better ! He pounces for sex ! Huzzah

&

I’m in desperate need of a hawks taking care of his sick s/o , also because I love your work and also because I’m sick and want to take care of me.

notes: i. adore. writing soft hawks. i just want him to take care of me oh-kay? let this man love. please! 💖 

Masterlist

You’re so sick when Hawks get in, you’ve almost forgotten how long he was away.

After a growing mission took him away from the city for a few days, he gets back early in the afternoon with the sun streaming into the kitchen windows. And with you, hunched over your laptop at the counter with tissues littering the counter and floor around you.

“Hey, bluebird,” he calls as his keys jingle in the door. “God, it’s only getting colder out there by the minute now. How’s you- oh, no.”

When he spots the mess you’ve become, his little mission bag slips to the tiled floor, pulling you out of your fever-induced trance. You tear burning eyes away from your document, and the smile that crosses your face is sleepy and swollen.

“Hey babe,” you sniffle. It’s evident in your voice, your body language, everything. Keigo’s only been gone a couple of days, but it was long enough for you to come down with a nasty little bug.

“How was your trip?”

He cringes at the congested sound of your voice. Sucks in a deep little breath through his teeth.

“What are you doing?” He asks. “Are you working?”

You glance guiltily over your shoulder at your laptop. “Well, yeah, I-I was feeling alright this morning, so I-“

“No way,” he interrupts firmly. He’s already shrugging out of his hero clothes. They’re streaked with soot and mud, but he’s going to worry about himself later.

He comes up behind you jacketless, belt already unbuckled and jingling loose around his thighs. He sets one hand on your shoulder and the other on the back of the chair next to you.

“Email your boss,” he rumbles. “Tell her you’re taking the afternoon off. Tell her you’re sick, for the love of god.”

“Babe, I can work,” you plead. “It’s a cold. I’m not dying.”

“You need to rest,” he argues. He brings both hands to your shoulders, digging his thumbs gently against your aching muscles. You try your best to hide how sensitive they are, but you can’t help the little spasms that make you twitch and sigh.

“C’mon,” he hums, dipping close. He pushes a kiss against the sensitive spot behind your ear, and you catch the soft, musky scent of the sweat that clings to his hairline. He smells earthy and cold, like he’s been outside a while.

Maybe he flew all the way back here.

“We both need showers,” he offers. And when he rumbles it all low and tempting in your ear, there’s no way you can put up much of a fight.

“Okay,” you groan. Keigo turns away with a triumphant pump of his fist. You try to keep the idiotic grin off your face as you open a new email. To no avail.

You and your boss have a close enough relationship that it’s easy for you to type out a casual little email explaining everything to her. She gets back to you right away, and even though you’re too busy being dragged to the bathroom, you can tell by the first few lines of the email that it’s all fine by her.

You kind of regret not telling her before about the fever you’re running. But none of that matters now. You’ve got the last few hours of the afternoon off, and you intend on spending at least some of that time in the shower with Keigo.

He’s already naked and warming up the water for you. You want to ache for him- he’s been away all weekend, after all- but you’re both too exhausted to do anything but climb under the water together. You pause for a moment with rivulets running over both your bodies, and he cups your cheeks, biting his lower lip hard as conflict floods his features.

“I wanna kiss you so bad right now,” he groans.

“I missed you, too,” you giggle back, reaching up to push your wet fingers through his soaking hair. “But I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.”

He knows you’re right, settling for a soft little kiss to your shoulder instead. He turns you around and lets warm water spray down your back as he rubs your shoulders, your neck, working all the tension from your muscles. The pain in your head whittles away the longer you stand there, and before long it’s nothing more than a dull throb while he’s reaching for the shampoo.

There’s no feeling you love more than Keigo washing your hair for you. His fingers are attentive and devoted, scratching itches you never realized were bothering you. He scrunches his fingers through the ends of your hair before reaching for the removable shower head, smoothing one rinsed palm over your forehead to tilt your head back.

“Eyes closed,” he coos. You’re still smiling like a goddamned idiot.

The suds sluice down your back as he passes the shower wand over your hair. The bubbles send wafts of fragrance through your senses. There’s nothing like coconut-scented shampoo when winter closes in on the city. It’s like a little trip to the beach, every time you get in the shower.

It was Keigo’s idea.  

He combs loving fingers coated with slippery conditioner through your hair. He lathers up your favourite body wash and trails his slick fingers over your tired skin. You can feel him getting excited behind you, but you’re both too tired to do anything about it. All he does is pull you lovingly back against his chest, letting his half-hard cock rest against the curve of your ass. He lays another soft kiss to the crook of your shoulder and you let out a deep, drippy sigh.

“C’mon,” he rumbles into your ear, tender like a dove. “Let’s get out before your nose starts to run, yeah?”

He dries himself off quickly, leaving you the bathroom for a few minutes. Wrapping your fluffy towel around your shoulders, you pad across the heated tile to pluck a tissue from the box by the mirror.

You blow. Hard. The steam lingering in the room helps to dislodge some of your congestion, and you emerge from the bathroom with the newfound ability to breathe through your left nostril.

Progress.

When you get into the bedroom, there are clothes laid out for you. Your favourite pair of clean sweatpants and one of Hawks’ t-shirts. You slip into the pants and give the t-shirt a little cuddle, burying your nose into the fabric and smiling when you catch the barest whiff of his spicy scent through your dulled senses.

You don’t even notice that the blankets are gone from the bed until you realize where they’ve been moved. As you emerge from your shared bedroom, you immediately spot the fluffy duvet and pillows spread out on the couch.

Hawks is in the kitchen, tapping away on his phone. When he spots you, he smiles so tender and soft it makes your sick little heart swell. He gives a little nod toward the couch as his wings bristle gently, encouraging.

“Go on,” he quips. “Get comfy.”

He comes around the side of the counter as you curl into the nest of pillows and gets down on his knees beside you.

“Here we go,” he hums. “A warm little nest for my cozy little bluebird.” He tugs the edges of the blanket back over and around you, wrapping you up in the fluffy comforter like a sick little sushi roll. Once you’re well tucked in, he smooths the hair back from your forehead. His chin juts forward- he wants to kiss you- but he restrains himself.

“I ordered you some food, okay?”

You snuggle deeper into your cozy retreat, until only your eyes and nose poke over the top of the blankets. The soft, soapy scent of the laundry detergent you use sends sweet washes of comfort through your tired brain.

“What kind of food?”

“Noodle soup,” he hums. You can tell he’s restraining the urge to grin as he looks you over. God, you’ve missed him. “From that place down the road.”

“Yum,” you gasp. You fiddle with the edges of your blanket to shove one hand out the side, grabbing his fingers and giving them a loving little squeeze. He chuckles, taking your hand between both of his and stroking the back of your palm over with both thumbs.

“Here,” he adds. He twists over one shoulder, grabbing the remote for the TV. “Put on anything you want. The food’ll be here soon, and then you can eat and go to bed, yeah?”

He glanced toward the armchair, not far from the couch. You try to hide the way your heart sinks.

He’s still got work to do.

“Sounds good,” you mumble, taking the cool plastic remote from his hand. You think about putting something on for the two of you, but he’s given you express instructions to indulge. So you find the show that brings you the most comfort and let its familiar sounds bring you down from the edge of a demanding work day.

When the food arrives, you sit up and slurp your noodles diligently. He keeps refilling your water, giving you a little dose of cold medication once you’ve got something in your stomach.

He’s ordered a bowl of soup for himself, too, but it stays largely untouched as he taps away on his laptop, finishing the report for the mission he’d raced back from, no doubt.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you half-wake to the sleepy sensation of being lifted. In a drowsy stupor you don’t even open your eyes, simply letting your head rock forward against Keigo’s familiar chest as he carries you to bed.

The next morning, you feel like a changed person.

The first thing you realize when you open your eyes is that you can breathe through your nose. Both sides. The passages of your sinus are so clear they nearly hurt, but you take deep, greedy breaths, revelling in your ability to clear your sleepy head with fresh, cool oxygen.

The second thing you notice is the very mischievous bird in the sheets beside you.

“G’morning, bluebird.”

He snuggles close to you, dropping a sordid kiss to your shoulder. He trails kisses into the crook of your neck and his hot breath tickles your tender skin in a way that you’ve dearly missed.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Better,” you conclude with a drowsy little smile. Your limbs have a pleasant, sleepy weight to them, but he’s quickly wearing the ache of rest from your tired eyes.

“Like… I’m probably not contagious anymore.”

You don’t have to tell him twice.

“God,” he sighs, rolling on top of you. He dips his mouth to yours, soft at first, then insistent. “I missed ya, kid.”

He kisses all the way down the side of your neck again, drawing tight little shivers from the length of your spine. He’s impatient, though, pushing your t-shirt up and curling his fingers into the loose hem of your sweatpants to rid you of them quickly.

He pushes your thighs apart, settling onto his belly between them. His wings dip and fold gracefully behind his back. You reach out and stroke the apex of one of them, making it flutter. He shoots you a sly grin and you watch the way his hips dip into the mattress.

Fuck, it feels good to be horny again.

Keigo kisses and nips a long path up the inside of one sensitive thigh, leaving tiny little welts where he sooths his tongue over your flesh. By the time he gets to the joint of your pelvis, you’re squirming for him, achy and needing.

“Fuck,” he sighs, nozing at the apex of one thigh. He takes a deep inhale and kisses there. “I missed this.”

He licks, gentle and loving. You keen and sigh. The sensation is beautifully familiar- even more so as he finds the swell of your clit, pushing a scruffy kiss to it and then starting to suck.

Keigo always eats you out sloppy. But it drives you crazy, the way he slides his arms under your thighs to leverage your hips against his face. The way he licks and slurps at you shamelessly, unafraid to overwhelm your sensitive form. His fingers dig gently into the meat of your thighs when he finds the tenderest angle from which to attack your clit, and you ride a wave of pleasure so smooth that it clears the last vestiges of your cloudy headache from the edges of your temples.

He makes you cum hard, letting you dive your fingers into his hair and pull while he feasts on your pussy. When he pulls back from between your thighs, his scruff is slick with spit and you and he’s licking his lips like they’re coated in honey.

“Hmm, fuck,” he groans, rolling his hips into the mattress again before climbing to his knees. “God. You gave me so much, bluebird.” He wipes his chin on the back of his hand, examining the sheen of your juices with a wolfish grin.

If he was hard before he’s straining now, but he bats his hands away before you can even get close.

“No way,” he quips, climbing out of bed. “You need to rest more.”

“Aw, c’mon,” you fuss. But Keigo’s firm.

“Stay in bed, bluebird. I gotcha.” He moves toward the door of your bedroom, then glances over his shoulder and grins.

“How d’you feel about pancakes?”

There’s no instance that Keigo’s tried to make pancakes that hasn’t ended in sheer disaster. But you’ve missed him too much not to adore him for trying. You pull the blankets back over your spent form, beaming at him from the pillows.

“Sounds good.”

[moonofthenight]

Welcome to New York

@spookypotato and I (thank you again <3) wrote a fic for the server event that is going on at the moment and I wanted to share it here too, enjoy!

*

O'Darwin and O'Knutzy belongs to @lumosinlove

*

CW mentions of food and beverages 

It knocked on Leo’s door at 2pm sharp, which didn’t surprise him at all; Kasey was always so dead on time, it scared him sometimes. The two had planned this day for over two weeks now and since Finn and Logan had their date today, Leo used the free flat to invite the other goalie over. He closed the fridge before he made his way into the hallway to open the door.

“Hello Knutty, long time no see,” laughed Kasey as he pulled the blonde in for a short hug.

“Come in, come in. I got everything prepared in the kitchen.”

“I hope you can still live here after today.”

“Honestly Blizz? No one is as bad as Finn and Logan at cooking, believe me. What they are able to do to food shouldn’t be possible.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

To prevent that from happening, Leo chose a simple meal to start with. When Kasey asked him to teach him how to cook he was a bit surprised at first, but he actually enjoyed the idea of teaching someone. 

“Let’s start with chopping the vegetables, that should be easy, non?”, Leo suggested. It was better to know now, if this would be like the times he tried to teach Logan and Finn.

Surprisingly, the following minutes weren’t a complete disaster like he had expected, Kasey was actually quite decent at cooking and followed Leo’s instructions without trouble. It was fun to spend time together and their cheeks were still a bit red from all the laughter when they went over to the kitchen table.

Just as Leo was about to sit down his phone rang, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

It was a text from Finn.

Alex will be home over the weekend too, just wanted to let you know.

He was halfway through typing out an answer when he got an idea.

Don’t tell him Lo and I will be there

What? Why?

Let's bring Nat and Kase as a surprise. It won't be as obvious if he thinks we all can't come

I love you

Knew you'd like it, lyt

***

They had lost Kasey and Natalie in the airport, when Finn decided to buy Leo and Logan each an 'I heart NY-boys' shirt. A quick call told them that the couple was already outside.

It was colder in New York, the sky was grey but Finn felt warm when he stepped out of the airport. New York was home to him, it would always somehow be, and bringing Leo and Logan with him, especially Leo, since he hadn't been able to bring him as often yet, felt amazing. A warm body snuggled under his arm and he smiled.

“It’s cold,” Logan pouted and hid his face in Finn’s chest.

“I thought you were used to it. I'm pretty sure you even quoted Elsa on that once, baby."

When Logan just continued to pout, he gently leaned down to kiss his messy airplane curls, "If you let me go you can have my jacket.”

Logan was quiet for a minute, “No, you’re warmer.”

Leo chuckled and grabbed their suitcases, “Kase and Nat are over there. I think they spotted the taxi, let’s go.”

Logan peeled himself off of Finn, still pouting a bit but the thought of a warm car seemed to do the deal. Finn and Leo followed quickly, helping Kasey to put all their bags into the back of the car before getting in themselves. Finn leaned forward to tell the driver their destination.

It was quiet for a while after that, everybody was quite exhausted from the flight, Logan was already dosing off on Leo’s shoulder; he carefully moved his fingers through the brown curls, a loving look in his eyes.

“Thank you,” said Nat suddenly, looking at Leo.

“What did I do?”

“For coming up with the idea,” Kasey added, “We haven’t seen Alex for three months now, so, thank you for thinking of us.”

Leo smiled at them, “It’s unfair that you can't see him regularly and I thought it might be a nice surprise for him.”

“I hope he will like it,” Nat said sleepily, resting her head on Kasey’s shoulder.

“I’m glad my brother found you two, I really am. I mean, the distance sucks but he’s so happy with you. He deserves that more than anything,” said Finn and bumped his shoulder lightly with Kasey’s, careful not to wake Nat.

“I’m sorry.” Kasey said and Finn wasn't sure if it was to himself or someone else.

“What?”

“Well, I knew I loved your brother since Tampa and I didn’t have the guts to do something about it. It probably would have saved us some time.”

“Nah, who knows if everything would have worked out like it did now. Sure, maybe you could have saved some time and pain but I’m just glad you found your way now.”

“Thank-” Kasey started but got interrupted by the driver, “We are here, sir.”

Finn reached for his wallet but Kasey was faster, “Take it as some kind of thank you.”

Finn smiled at him. “Will we do it as planned?”

"Yep, we will wait around the corner, you go in."

Natalie and Kasey walked as quietly as possible but the loud noise of the three other suitcases was enough to drown out the rest anyway. The moment Finn knocked on the door, it flew open, as if the older O'Hara had been behind it for some time. 

"Bubbles!"

"Alex!", Finn screamed with equal enthusiasm, laughing at the silly nickname. He threw his arms around his older brother and just held him tight. Finn missed him too, it's not easy if you grow up in a close relationship with your brother and suddenly you are miles and miles away.

Finn didn't want to let him go just yet and decided to continue their hug. It had been too long, really.

Alex just laughed and squeezed him tightly. "Come in, Mum and Dad already made tea and coffee and they bought your favourite- Leo? Logan? What are you doing here?"

At that Finn stepped back, looking at his brother sheepishly, but determined.

Alex's confused face made Logan chuckle, "Hello to you too, Red. How are you doing? I'm good, thank you. I missed you too." Alex rolled his eyes but gave them both a welcoming smile. "Finn can't go a day without us, so he asked us to come with us."

"I did not say that!"

"Mhh, whatever makes you sleep at night, sweetheart," Leo leaned down to kiss their pouting lover. Finn rolled his eyes at him. 

Alex still seemed to be trying to piece everything together, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Guess I just forgot," Finn shrugged and moved past his brother to greet his parents, pulling Leo with him. The taller boy had of course met the O'Hara's but he was still nervous. They had barely made it into the room before both got tackled by hugs.

"It's great to see you Haley," Leo said when he let go and received a loving pat on the cheek as a thank you. They switched places and her arms were replaced by a firm grip around Leo's shoulders.

"Where is my other boy?" Finn's mother asked, going up to her toes and looking around the room.

"Here," Logan said, who came into the living room right that instant, Alex close behind him. "There you are! Oh, come here I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Why do you get so excited to see Logan? You weren't that excited with me. Betrayed by my own mother, I can't believe it!" Alex complained, holding his hand over his heart. 

His mother snorted at Alex's dramatic reaction. "Stop whining and make yourself useful, get some tea for Leo. You still prefer tea, right?"

"Yeah I do, thank you," Leo said with a smile and then blew Alex a kiss, who just subtly flipped him off in return.

The six settled down shortly after and Leo sent out a quick text to Kasey; not a minute later the doorbell rang again.

"Alex, would you be so kind?"

Alex gave his mother a quick nod, before making his way over to the door. He was expecting the mailman but the people in front of him were most definitely not a package. Alex just froze in place and he was pretty sure his mouth fell open too. 

"Hi, baby," said Kasey with a soft exhale, his smile as bright as ever. 

"Wha- I- What?" Alex still hadn't moved.

"Surprise!" said Natalie who threw herself at Alex, jumping up to wrap her legs around the boy's hips. He caught her easily and after another minute of shock, tears formed in his eyes and he pulled the blonde impossibly closer to his body. Alex put a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly. He blinked rapidly and looked up when they parted and Natalie jumped down to the ground again.

"That bad to see us, eh?", said Kasey softly, who still stood in the doorway and watched the whole interaction with a warm, fuzzy feeling around his heart. 

"God, just- come here."

Alex didn't care about anything at all when he finally locked his lips with Kasey. His hands immediately went into the soft long hair of his boyfriend, craving as much closeness as possible. After another moment, Alex pressed their foreheads together, catching his breath. 

The rustling behind them, broke through their shared breaths, "We'll give you a moment to catch up," Haley told them, a knowing smile on her lips as she ushered the other men into another room.

Somehow his mother always knew what was going on. He turned back to his partners, still unable to grasp that they were actually here, in New York City, with him.

"Missed us?" Nat asked as she stepped up close to Alex again, slotting herself underneath the already held out arm of her oldest boyfriend.

Resting his head on hers, he gestured for Kasey to join their group hug. "More than I could ever put into words."

"Love you, Alex." Kasey breathed out as he felt his boyfriend's arm wrap around his waist, snuggling his face into Alex's neck and placing a few soft kisses there.

Another arm was placed around Kasey's waist as Natalie gathered her boyfriends closer to her, breathing in the familiar smell of Mango Shampoo and of the sanitizer Kasey always uses after flights. It mixed with Alex's aftershave, that she still couldn't assign anything else than home, love and safety. It was Alex.

"Love you." she murmured, not willing to move her head further away that was necessary to get the words out.

Alex smiled at them. Oh, how he had missed this. How he had missed them.

"Love you both."

[ohheyitsokay]

before tomorrow

Pairing: Javier Peña x (f) reader

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions of sex, strong language, a touch of angst

Summary: a classic fake dating undercover mission, with a healthy dose of miscommunication

>>

“Hey, Peña, can we talk?” Your head popped into Javier’s office and an annoying … feeling spiked in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah,” he gestured for you to come in, pushing some papers aside to give you relative attention. The door closed behind and you sunk into the chair across from him.

There was a comfortable smile on your face, these visits to his office becoming frequent over the past few weeks. He could see you thinking, knowing full well this was one of your first undercover missions, and he almost heard your words before you said them.

“About tomorrow,” you started, but there was something in your eyes he didn’t recognize.

He waited.

The weekend was something he figured you both were looking forward to. It was... an honest to goodness fun mission. Like the ones you’d see in movies. Intel, appearances, earpieces, and playing parts. Out of the heat, no takedowns or chances of innocent people getting hurt. More than that, it had felt like, these past few weeks, that neither of you would mind getting the chance to just hang out together, even for work. No watching eyes, no paperwork to get to, no opportunity for another one of the guys to shoot his shot with you.

At least, Javi had been looking forward to those things. He liked you. You were clever and pretty and you cared about people, genuinely.

“Can we make some rules?” Your tone wasn’t shy, but definitely a bit vulnerable. There was subtext there, and in your sharp eyes, but that was another thing he wasn’t quite sure of.

“Okay,” he said, slow, curious.

You chewed on your words again, Javier’s brown eyes not leaving yours for even a moment. The top button of his shirt was undone, and the humidity was making the ends of his hair curl just a touch.

There was no way you could promise you weren’t going to fall in love with him so you settled for something different.

“No pet names, no messing up my hair,” you held his gaze, trying to match his confidence. Months of banter and comradery should’ve prepared you for that much, at least. The corners of his eyes crinkled just a bit as you counted on your fingers. “And no kissing.”

“Alright, fair enough,” he said, a faint line between his eyebrows forming as he wondered what prompted this.

“Obviously, I’ll follow your lead, and…” you leaned towards him a little bit, a glint in your eye. “If I catch you looking at my butt I get your gun.” You almost cackled at the look on his face as you got up, waving before you left, not even waiting for his response.

Javier ran his hand over his jaw. What a set of rules. You following his lead, telling him not to look, not to kiss… it almost made him wonder what exactly you did want. If kissing was the only physical affection off the table, he could definitely work with that… He shook his head. If he didn’t know any better, that interaction almost made him more excited for the night to come.

-

It didn’t exactly happen like he had hoped.

He spent the morning preparing his bag – he had most of a weekend to pretend to be your lover at an elite conference – and overthinking your rules.

It was no secret that he was a ladies man. Even if he’d stopped talking about the women who once occupied his bed, the office gossip hadn’t. But the idea that you could potentially be bothered by that reputation left a bad taste in his mouth. This was his chance to show you he wasn’t that guy, at least not any more.

That personal mission promptly got in his way. When he picked you up, you were stunning. Sexy. He nearly choked, trying to compliment you, explain to you how gorgeous you were without sounding like goddamn creep.

The rest of the night was the same, Javier cursing himself for tripping over his words and feet. You could feel something was off, too. He was trying so hard to … make this seem like a date that he completely lost his cover.

You’d managed to get part of the Intel you need, thank goodness, but the narrowed eyes of the other guests followed the two of you around the room.

Lovers did not keep each other at arms length, with hovering, respectful hands. When they found themselves molding into each other’s sides, they did not jump apart, flinching, not fully meeting each others eyes. And then certainly did not avoid kissing when the lights were soft in the corner of the room, and the music and drinks were flowing.

No one present questioned you outright, and Javier’s heart protested when you got a message from headquarters and had to slip away.

Tonight, for him, was nice just being with you like this. He was enjoying the flush on your face, and the way your fingers felt, clinging to the fabric at the elbow of his suit. If it were a first date, it would have been perfect, the process of slowly becoming comfortable with each other, close to each other.

But it wasn’t a date at all.

It was a mission. And you were the rookie who had been flustered by your partner and almost cost them all the effort put into the invites, the placements, the whole weekend.

At least, that was what they told you.

It took you long moments to articulate your plan to do better, to reign the butterflies, and to rebuild your walls, but you did it. The nature of the conference and covers dictated you share a hotel room. As you went to find Javi – no, your partner – there, you focused on stripping yourself of the electric heat his hands had left on your skin.

Javier Peńa didn’t have eyes for you. He made eyes at most people, but it was just fun and games and he was good at his job. That was all that was behind those tender touches and adoring looks. He was good at his job, and you just needed to get it together.

But Javier's heart ached a little when you walked into the room. He was already set up on the couch and he almost jumped, standing to greet you.

“How’d that go?” he asked, before anything, the neutral look on your face feeling unfamiliar.

“It’s fine, it’s too late to pull me out anyway. I’ll get it together for tomorrow,” your professionalism was hard to maintain when his eyes were holding yours. They were deep and dark and even here, long hallways away from prying eyes, they seemed like they cared for you.

“And… forget those rules I made.” Now, your gaze was stuck on the floor. There was a small stain by the end table, the maids had tried to cover it with a rug.

Javi wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Still flying high from the feeling of you on his arm, his mind wandered to his previous thoughts about your rules. His mind was occupied for a moment, indulging the idea that maybe this was his chance.

Images of you – under him, gasping, fingernails curling into his skin – short circuited his brain.

“No rules, cariño?” Javier stepped into your space, eager at this off chance he could show you how much he liked you.

No pet names.

His touch started gentle, brushing a strand of hair back before combing it in with his fingers. Broad fingers slid through until he was palming the back of your head, by your neck.

No messing up my hair.

You were still as a statue, your eyes finding his like magnets and metal, and you could feel him draw close, his breath in yours.

The gentle bump of your noses was the a yank, back, back, back to your senses. Heart racing, you pulled away, a white hot feeling tearing through you. One hair closer and you would’ve been done for. This was Javier Peña. He had probably used those same touches to get countless girls and if they were anything, they were proof that you were not special.

“Tomorrow,” you all but spat at him. Turning, you shoved yourself towards the bedroom, hissing under your breath, “I cant believe you.”

Javier watched you go, dumbfounded. And then the realizations hit him one after another, sharp pain with a healthy onslaught of panic.

You thought he had been getting close to you for the job. You thought it was your fault, that you had to do better because this was professional.

He had misunderstood everything, tried to come on to you when you were giving him a chance to be respectful and he ruined it.

Cursing, he wished fruitlessly he could punch himself. Had he done anything, anything at all to make it clear to you he adored you? That if you’d kiss him, sleep with him, it would be a damn honor? That it had nothing to do with the mission?

Fuck.

He figured he had roughly ten seconds before you remembered to close the door and it would be all over.

Pushing into your room, he saw your expression and felt physical pain shoot through his chest.

Hot, angry tears were carving paths down your face, and they almost drove him to his knees. By the door, he tried to make himself look smaller, trying to tell you on face he hated himself for being so blind tonight.

Speak, words, now. His mind yelled.

“Querida, please, I'm sorry,” he was talking fast, desperate. He told you as quickly as he could how much of an idiot he was, how he didn’t mean to get you in hot water. You stared at him, wide eyes, tears drying as he tried to explained how much he liked you, how he was trying to do this thing right and screwed it up. How the last thing he wanted was for you to think you were just another opportunity hook up.

When he was done, he was almost breathing hard, forcing himself to wait for you to process before he risked shooting himself in the foot again.

Slowly, almost as if you were in a trance, you reached behind you and grabbed an overstuffed pillow off the bed. Javier was nervous you were going to hit him for a moment before you held it to your face and groaned.

“Of all the stupid, emotionally incompetent men in the whole world I just had to go and pick you,” your voice was muffled but the feeling the words gave Javier was clear as spring water. He was fine being stupid, knowing you ha picked him.

“Get out, we can figure this out tomorrow,” your face was visible again and then you threw the pillow at him and he retreated. A goofy smile was growing on his face. He had made a fool of himself, then apologized and confessed and still you picked him.

You picked him.

The idea of going back out into the field tomorrow became more than exciting. Javier felt like a damn teenager in love. He was still confused, but at the same time he wanted to go to sleep quickly, so he could skip to the part where you were near to him again.

There was a lot left to figure out, but he felt light now that you were no longer mad at him. Settling into the couch, he was already half dreaming of the next day, playing at your lover for real this time, and … and kissing you.

That thought made him slow down, and wake up again. Something felt off, and that feeling carried him back towards your room.

His knock was quiet, nervous you wouldn’t hear, and nervous you would.

When you opened the door, you looked soft and confused and he knew.

“Querida… our first kiss shouldn’t be undercover, it should be now,” he said, with determination. Before the night could end, he had to show you, prove to you that he was serious. “Before the mission starts again,” he added, and he watched the understanding fill your eyes.

“Do you mean that?” your voice was small, but equally determined.

And he nodded, swallowing.

He was offering to do this, for real: not for the game or the job or anything else, because none of those mattered here in your hotel room. It was hard for you, an hour before, to let him apologize. To let the wall that said he was in a category of men who would only hurt you. But you had, had deconstructed your self preservation and now…

The man in front of you was asking for permission to fall in love with you.

And when he kissed you, solid and gentle, you both knew you’d let him.

<<

Taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost

[thebrochtuarachs]

Something in the Rain - “Situations”

A/N:  WHAT?! BACK TO BACK UPDATES?! Yes, you're not dreaming, it is happening and even I, am surprising myself. I'd like to thank you all for the support even though I haven't written in a while. I've never received much more heartfelt messages and comments. With much encouragement, this next chapter wrote itself quickly. :) I hope you like it. As always, your comments and suggestions are very much welcome.

AO3  / C1: A Day In June : C2: Definitely, Maybe : C3: So We Meet Again : C4: Friday Lunch : C5: Finding Solid Ground

XXXXX

“Are we on for lunch next Friday?” she asked, three blocks away from her home. 

“Actually, I’ll be going on a two week business trip to London.” Jamie answered. “I need to look at our office down there, catch up with our staff and clients” 

“Oh, I see.”

“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t mention it earlier. But my schedule is going to be cramped.” 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s work!” Claire bumped his arm with her elbow. “Message me when you’re back and settled and let’s catch up then.” she followed, hoping to keep communication lines open in line with what seems to be a long break. 

“I will.” Jamie noted that offer. “How about you? How is your week looking?” 

“Uhm, between my rounds, surgeries, and department duties” Claire counted with her fingers for emphasis. “My days are pretty much full. Lunch, late evenings and the weekends are generally my free times.” The answer also serves as an indirect information Claire hoped Jamie would figure out about how unpredictable her time and availability is.

A brief silence and then Claire asked the question that was on her mind since the afternoon. “Erm, why didn’t you tell me you were popular?” 

“What?” Jamie chuckled. “What is the world are ye talking about?” 

“It has come to my attention that you, Jamie Fraser, apparently, is one of Scotland’s most eligible bachelors.” Claire said and Jamie groaned. 

“Ugh, how’d you find out?” 

“Geilis mentioned it earlier. Apparently, there are magazine pictures that I should see. She’s showing me her copy on Monday.” she added, earning another joking sigh. “I wondered why it never came up and/or why you didn’t tell me?” 

“One, I thought you, at least, knew. I mean, it was in a national magazine. Second, it’s not the first thing I share with the people I meet. How would you feel if I said, ‘Hi, I’m Jamie Fraser, did you see my photo on Tatler?” he saw her tilt her head and stick her tongue in feign disgust. “Exactly.” 

“I guess that’s a valid point. Still - I guess, I’d rather knew about myself first or you.” 

“I’m sorry, Sassenach. It just comes with working at a local, historic business, keeps us afloat, ye know. I’ll warn ye ahead of time of any write-ups about me out there.”

“What’d ye call me?” Claire stopped walking.

“Hmmm?”

“You called me a Sassenach?” she raised her eyebrow. 

“Aish, it’s not as bad as ye think it means. It just means Englishwoman, an outlander, not from Scotland.” Claire didn’t look convinced, forcing Jamie to explain further. “It was my first thought about ye when you slipped under my umbrella. I guess it kinda stuck and is what I’ve been calling ye in my head.”

“Mhmm, alright.” She shook her head and smiled. “This is me” 

Jamie looked at the Georgian building and took note of the place and surroundings. “I guess, I’ll see you in two weeks.” 

“I’ll see you in two weeks” Claire waited briefly if Jamie had anything else to say or do but when he didn’t move, it was her cue to leave. “Bye, then.” 

“Bye.” Jamie watched Claire enter her home and when she was safely in, he walked back to his car, berating himself if he missed a big opportunity. 

--

Claire reached the emergency room and immediately asked for a patient in the nurse’s station. “Tammas Baxter?”

“Bed 4” She quickly went to where the nurse pointed and opened the curtain to find a pale, sickly, boy, a frightened grandma, and a fidgety young lady. 

“Hi, I’m Dr. Claire Beauchamp and I’ll be checking on Tammas today. Are you his family and what seems to be the problem?” She asked the ladies on the other side of the bed as she examined his physical state. 

“Yes, we are. I’m Mrs. Fitz, his grandma and this is Laoghaire, his cousin. He came home from school this afternoon and just started vomiting and developing a head and stomachache.” 

Claire leaned down and smelled Tammas, having a hunch already on what the boy might be going though but she needed to confirm. “Tammas, my name is Claire. I know you’re in pain right now but I need you to tell me something so we know what medicine to give you, okay?” The boy nodded weakly. 

“Did you eat this?” Claire shared a photo on her phone and despite his frailty, everyone saw the panic in his eyes looking from Claire to his grandma. Claire looked at the old lady as she soothed rather than scold her grandson, telling her he was in no trouble and just needed to tell the truth. With that, the boy turned to Claire and gave a nod to confirm her suspicions. 

“Thank you, good lad.” Claire patted the boy and proceeded to order her treatment to the nurses. “Get blood and urine samples, hang an IV and start to give him a dose of anti-poisoning” 

After getting a clear from the nurses, Claire invited his guardians outside to explain his situation better. “Hi, Mrs. Fitz, was it?” the older lady confirmed and she proceeded to explain the situation. “Tammas ingested a plant called Lily of the Valley. It is incredibly poisonous and you made the right decision to bring him in immediately. We caught it at the right time and we’ll treat him with fluids and medicine and we’ll observe him in the next couple of days until his situation improves. He’ll be just fine.”

Mrs. Fitz sighed in relief and then hugged Claire which she returned. As a pediatric surgeon, she’s already used to these moments but it always warms her heart when it happens. Mrs. Fitz then asked her niece to check on admitting Tammas and left. They checked on Tammas again, the boy now asleep after being medicated. 

“I’ll check up on him before my shift ends. I’ll ask the nurses to page me if anything changes on his condition.” Claire said, signing his chart and placing it back on the caddy. 

“Thank ye, Doctor.”

“Please call me Claire” 

“Ye know, it was my nephew who told me to go straight to the ER and look for Dr. Beauchamp. He didn’t mention, though, that Dr. Beauchamp was a pretty lady.”  

A blush threatened to creep Claire’s cheek but she kept her composure. “Jamie called ahead as well, told me that you were coming. I was free and was able to come down to the ER. I’m happy to help” 

“And how did ye know it was poisoning right away?” 

“I dabble in medicinal herbs sometimes. The plant has a distinct smell that I picked up while I was examining him. Jamie also had a hunch and told me about a tradition with the boys about eating the plant as a right of passage. Between those two, it kinda showed itself.” 

“I see. And how long have ye known Jamie?” Mrs. Fitz found the opening and she took it. 

“Not too long.” Claire smiled and answered honestly. Just then, Laoghaire returned with documents for them to sign and she excused herself out. 

As Mrs. Fitz finished the paperwork, her thoughts flitted back to Claire. When she asked about Jamie, she somewhat expected the lass to immediately gush all over him as what she’d experienced with his previous affairs. 

But what she found, instead, in their short conversation thus far, was a genuineness that was incredibly refreshing to see. She didn’t know the extent of their relationship, yet, but for whatever’s worth, she knew Jamie found a good one. 

---

“You were right, it was poisoning. Yep, no - he’ll be fine now, Jamie. We’re treating him and should be able to go home in a few days.” Claire put the phone on speaker as she signed documents in her office. It’s been a week and a half since they last saw each other and due to the nature of their jobs, they’ve texted sporadically, just catching up or checking in, here and there. But, today, the emergency forced them to communicate more directly and urgently to which each of them welcomed.

Jamie was on the other line, wanting to hear the update himself. “I told the lad not to do it and he still did. Mrs. Fitz might not have a thing to say anymore to him but I might have” 

“Like you were not a ten year old that broke the rules before.” she gruffed. 

“Still, my da told on me.” 

“Jamie, I’m sure Tammas would have plenty to hear about it by the time you come back.”

She heard a sigh on the other end and she knew she’d saved the lad against more scolding from his family. “Yer right. I’ll just settle for a really, really stern look and not give him his presents” 

He can hear her roll her eyes and moved to change the subject. “Who accompanied Mrs. Fitz, Sassenach?” 

Claire smiled, still not use to the name but truthfully, she liked it because it came from him. “A granddaughter, I think her name was Laoghaire.”

“I see.” he said plainly and Claire caught on. 

“Anything you’d like to share?” she pressed but instead the call ended and rang again, this time a video call. 

Claire was surprised but took a quick look at her mirror and accepted the call. 

“Yes?” 

“Nothing. Just wanted to see how are ye” 

“You called after I mentioned Laoghaire. That is suspicious.”

“There’s nothing to tell other than, she might have a wee crush on me, Sassenach.” 

“A wee crush. That explains the weird look she gave me earlier today.” 

“What weird look?”

“Like she was sizing me up or something. Didn’t last long, though, Mrs. Fitz had her do all the errands earlier. 

It was Jamie’s turn to make a face and shrug. “Don’t let her get to ye, Claire. I’m no interested in her” 

“Oh yeah? Why so?” she quipped back. 

“For starters, she isna my type and…” 

Claire cut him off, “Alright, alright, no need to say more” a laugh bubbling as Jamie looked so serious on her screen. “Anything else, you need to say, Mr. Fraser? Some of us have to work here.” 

She saw Jamie scratch the back of his head, turn red, and hear the shuffling of his feet. “Erm, Claire, would you be free this Saturday evening?” 

She looked at her calendar, “My schedule is free so far” 

“May I have the pleasure to take you to dinner then?”

“Are you asking me out, James Fraser?” Claire asked, eyeing him adorably. She was not at all surprised that their lunches would eventually become dinners. It was only a matter of time. If they we’re not interested in each other, they had stopped meeting a long time ago. 

“Aye.” Jamie replied, anticipating her answer.

“Pick me up at my place around 7:00?” 

“It’s a date, then.”

[defectiveconantoy]

Memories (ShinRan)

Fandom: Detective Conan

Pairing: ShinRan

Rating: T

Genres: Angst, Comfort

Words: 1,535

Author’s Notes: Remember my old WIP? I changed the title and finished drafting it right before @shinranweek was announced. 😅 The story is angst-ish mixed with confort. Enjoy!

“What a gloomy day!” Ran stares at the living room window with a frown on her face before returning to the couch. Shinichi, on the other hand, is fine with staying at home. He calmly stares at the television screen and says, “I wouldn’t worry. There’s always tomorrow. We can go to the park again, like we did yesterday. And remember, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. We have time.” That reassured Ran.

The Kudo mansion is quiet this Saturday afternoon, except for the rain lightly tapping on the windows and the sound of soup boiling in the background. Its smell of broth and fresh green onions linger around the living room and near the couch where she and Shinichi were located. Ran constantly switches her attention between the living room and kitchen while Shinichi sits and absentmindedly watches television.

Ran is spending the weekend over at Shinichi’s house. His parents are away for the week, and her father, Kogoro, left town for a case. During her visits, Ran’s favorite activity is to cook warm, homemade meals for an eager and hungry Shinichi, a tradition that first started during his Conan days. Today’s dish is miso soup, the perfect fix for the rainy weather. Good thing the meal sounds good because mothing good is on television right now. Bored, Shinichi daydreams, drifting to flashbacks of the past year’s chaos.

Calling it all chaos is an understatement. Might as well call it having your body and spirit stretched, compressed, stomped on, and slapped around. Being Conan was not easy. It was like one’s soul was screaming but nothing came out because its lips were sealed shut. He wished to tell Ran everything, to run free and stop living a double life and pretending he was not really Kudo Shinichi. The dangerous situation was an imaginary brick wall between him and Ran. He looked forward to finally breaking it and no longer seeing her hurting and waiting.

The Black Organization’s attack on him was a flash of lightning that ruined years of work achieved during his lifetime. Never will he forget the humiliation endured from being knocked down, bloodied, pulled by the hair, and forced to swallow that wretched pill. The poison’s few minutes of piercing, bone melting pain were followed by missed opportunities. Being Conan was a unique experience, but he can’t deny how his new life caused him to temporarily sacrifice his old one. To this day, he struggles to adjust but still manages to move on, in spite of slipping the occasional ah le le and Ran-neechan.

He next thinks about the moment he received the permanent APTX 4869 antidote. Days after receiving the pill, he recalls lying on a couch near Haibara Ai, who observed and documented his reaction to the drug. “Good news, Kudo-kun! Looks like the antidote is working as expected. Your vitals look fine. No heart problems or side effects. Everything looks great. Come back to visit me one week from now.” “Tch! You’d see me anyway. I live right next door,” Shinichi joked back.

At first, he was scared the drug was a fluke and would turn him back into Conan. Luckily, it ended well because he experienced the heart pounding and drastic bone growth without the shrinking afterwards. The worst after-effect was becoming Haibara’s test subject for a few days before her trying the antidote on herself. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make. After all, the first step in facing the Organization and gaining power over them was becoming himself again.

Back to reality. Shinichi shifts his attention back to the television screen and sighs. “Commercials are currently on. Still nothing good! How stupid!” The rain briefly stopped, but the clouds remain present. The house is a bit dark during these daytime hours. Ran is now in the kitchen stirring the soup.

Ran. Shinichi now blushes after he remembers telling her the truth a few weeks ago. He returned to the Mouri residence to pick up Conan’s (or his) belongings. They spoke alone in her bedroom, with her doing most of the talking. And boy, did he feel guilty! The memories hurt. He feels embarassed now while deep in his thoughts as he did then. He lied to her about his identity and used that front to stay at her home, take a bath with her, and unintentionally tune in on secrets she would never tell him as Shinichi.

Their conversation was actually quite a relief. Ran was more upset by him frequently running away to solve cases than over his massive lie. Shinichi felt grateful for her not breaking up with him, though their argument was settled under one condition: she keeps a very close eye on him. At least he finally gets to spend more time with her as himself this time.

He also owes Ran his life after the Black Organization’s defeat. Shinichi initially refused to get her involved. She instead was persistent and unwilling to listen. Never will she make the mistake of letting him run into danger alone again. His fast reflexes and her karate skills helped them escape a deadly kidnapping.

All this thinking makes Shinichi dose off and take a nap. In his sleep, he envisions Ran and himself strapped together, roped by their arms and waists and their backs turned away from one another. Ran lets out a soft cry, “Shinichi. I don’t want to die.” “Don’t say that,” he whispers. “Look, I have a plan. What we will do is —ah!” Gin appears out of nowhere, interrupting his speech before point a gun to his chest and forcing the poison on him again. He shoots and runs away before Shinichi could fight for Ran and himself. His vision is now blurred, and Ran is nowhere to be felt. He whimpers, and right when he becomes concerned about his body shrinking again, he wakes up sweating and screaming.

“Shinichi!” Concerned, Ran immediately darts towards the living room and sits on the edge of the couch. Shinichi’s eyes widened. He jitters, pants, and looks around in all directions before throwing himself at Ran with a tight embrace. She silently smiles and begins stroking his back. “Shhh! There! It’s okay. It’s okay,” Ran whispers before kissing his hair. He moves up and rests his face against her left shoulder. She eventually presses his back as a cue to change positions. “Hmm...please don’t leave,” Shinichi whispers. Ran responds, “Of course not! I just want to adjust myself.” “Oh!”

They settle down. Shinichi turns the TV off and begins talking: “Ran, I just had a nightmare about us. The Black Organization kidnapped us. Gin shot me and left me for dead once more. I couldn’t hear you, and I swore I was going to turn into Conan again. My first encounter with the Organization left me scared for my life. Scared for you too. Scared they would hurt you. I’m sorry again for everything. If I could take back this past year, I would. I betrayed you. I’d stop myself from leaving you behind back in Tropical Land. Back when I was Conan-kun, I wished you knew everything, but it would hurt you. I was also told not to tell you. Agasa-hakase and Haibara —”

“Ai-chan?”

“Yeah, her,” Shinichi continued. She even aimed a gun at me at the hospital after you donated blood to treat my gunshot wound. Or so I thought. It was a fake gun concealing a small bouquet of flowers. She scared me into not telling you about the Organization or Conan-kun’s true identity. I don’t blame her. That girl was really scared. She would panic any time she sensed their presence. Honestly, I was scared too, only better at hiding it. I didn’t want you to ever see me suffering and turning into Conan or get suspicious, discover everything on your own, and get yourself into deep trouble. Sorry again for getting you into this mess.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ran started. “I trust you. I knew you were hurting but couldn’t tell me for some some reason. I waited for the day you’d return and tell me everything face-to-face. When you first left, I’d sometimes think you were out fooling around with other women. But that’s not you. You were pretty close to me before that incident. You, the Deduction Freak, always talking to me about Holmes or the case of the day. Still, you changed since leaving. I sensed it though our phone calls and in Conan-kun.”

He remarked, “Conan was a new experience. I think it provided opportunities. I met the Shonen Tantei-dan, Hattori, Haibara, Akai-san, and so on. I also gained the courage to confess my feelings to you. Anyway, it’s nice to be back. I missed you.”

“I missed you too. I’m glad you’re back. Well, the miso soup is almost ready. Want to help me prepare the table?”

Shinichi replies with a grin, “Sure, Ran-neechan!”

“Here we go again! You can’t get away with your Conan-kun act this time.”

“Haha! I kid, I kid,” Shinichi joked. He smiled in Ran’s direction. “Let’s do this. I’m hungry!”

[miracleonice87]

juliaswinterwriting challenge, pt. 2

1. “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” with Mathew Barzal

a/n: finally! my second of two submissions for @wondershawns winter writing challenge. 6.6K. also features Mat’s boyfriend Beau lol. 

summary: Mat has been falling for Beau’s cousin Genevieve since the day he met her. the main thing standing in his way? her. 

warnings: swearing. alcohol. a smattering of angst. mentions of sex (not explicit). a healthy dose of fluff.

_____

Mat couldn’t have heard his best friend correctly. Convinced of that, he shook his head and tried to snap himself out of his stupor.

“Wait, Beau… what?”

“Yeah, Genevieve’s moving in with me,” Beau repeated casually, slapping a puck into the back of the net. “Finally convinced her. She just broke up with that idiot and she’s gonna go to NYU.”

The guys were on the ice at the practice facility for the first time since arriving back in New York after a long summer. They were conducting an informal skate to get their feet under them again, but most of the time had been spent simply catching up with one another — shooting pucks, yes, but also shooting the breeze. Mat had enjoyed the laidback nature of the on-ice session thus far, but he felt an undeniable jolt of electricity in his every nerve when Beau said that name — the one that elicited a thousand different feelings all at once.

Genevieve.

The girl who shared her cousin Beau’s big blue eyes and endless charm, but had a sassy wit and tender heart all of her own. The girl who was more like his teammate’s sister than a more distant relative. The girl who Mat had fallen for the very first day he met her, when Beau invited him to his family home in Quebec for a visit, now three summers ago. The girl who he’d been hopelessly, helplessly entranced by ever since.

Suddenly, a rubber disc was flying at Mat’s feet, the product of Marty dishing him a pass from the opposite side of the zone, expecting Mat to tap it into the goal as they’d already done a dozen times that afternoon. Instead, Mat let it whiz past him, only giving the puck so much as a glance when it bounced off the half-wall.

“Barzy!” Marty yelled from the far boards with a surprised chuckle, smacking his blade on the ice repeatedly. “Fuckin’ pay attention, kid!”

“You hockey much?” Beau teased, furrowing his brows at his teammate’s blank expression. Beau thought to himself that it looked as though Mat had just seen a ghost. “What’s’a matter with you?”

Mat turned to see Marty, Beau, Ebs, and Anders all looking at him as if he were a creature from a different planet. He cleared his throat and hunched once more overtop his skates, gliding in a tight circle before he faced them again.

“Nothin’,” he said nonchalantly, with a sniff. He put his stick to the ice and readied himself, trying to push Beau’s revelation to the back of his mind and focus on the task at hand. “Let’s go again.”

“Wait,” Marty said, putting a gloved hand up to halt the skating men around him. “I forgot. Isn’t Barzy, like, in love with that girl?”

Beau slowly turned his head toward Mat, who swallowed hard, trying to will his cheeks not to redden. Anders and Ebs chuckled, hands resting atop the knobs of their sticks.

“Shut up, Marty,” Mat nearly pleaded, anxiously tapping his stick on the ice. “Just... let’s go again. Come on.”

_____

In the three years since they’d first met, the math broke down pretty simply: Genevieve had had a boyfriend for all of those three years, until a month ago; Mat had kissed her exactly once on the forehead after putting her drunk ass to bed during a weekend visit to Beau’s; and they had made exactly zero progress toward becoming what Mat had always wanted them to be. Together.

One more number was soon added to the equation, not long after she moved to the city — the number one. Sponsored by the number of times they’d now had sex.

Genevieve’s twenty-first birthday fell right after she started at NYU as a junior transfer, when the Isles boys had just started camp. After a night at the club celebrating her, in a vodka-induced haze, with Tito’s attention wrapped up in a pretty blonde, Mat and Genevieve snuck away from the group, into an Uber, and off to his apartment in Brooklyn.

Mat realized immediately that he’d never felt a high like the one he did when she was kissing him, and he chased it all night long. He lost himself in her in every way as they melded together between his sheets.

He truly thought that her birthday was going to be the start of something between them. Something real. More than just a childish crush, stolen glances, and timid, blushing stares.

Which is why his heart broke when he awoke the next morning, after their passionate night gave way to dawn and the effects of the alcohol had faded, to hear Genevieve speaking quietly on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah, I went home with someone... No, you don’t know him. Just a guy from class.”

Mat felt a tightness in his throat and tried to swallow it.

“Shut up, Anth,” Genevieve said with a lighthearted groan.

Shit. Of course it was Beau.

“Brunch? Uh... yeah. Yeah, I can do brunch. I just have to come back to your place and change first... No, no, I’ll just grab an Uber. Yes, I’m sure.”

She was leaving. She was trying to sneak out of his place, while he was presumably still asleep. Despite that, pathetic as he felt for it, he didn’t want her to go. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Okay. Yeah, that’s fine. Okay, see you then. Bye.” Genevieve ran a hand through her dark locks and blew out a long breath.

“Who was that?” Mat muttered in a sleepy voice, making Genevieve jump. Despite trying to ignore it, he couldn’t help but notice the way she pulled his sheets tighter around her naked body at the realization that he was, indeed, awake. His chest clenched at the sight. Genevieve cleared her throat, stalling, before answering.

“That was Anth,” she said, tossing her phone on the bed in front of her. Mat watched the way her bare spine hunched as she sighed and then looked at him over her freckled shoulder. It took everything in Mat not to lean over and pepper her soft skin with warm kisses.

“He wants to go to brunch. The three of us. He’s gonna text you and invite you. He doesn’t know I’m here...” she spoke, wringing her fingers.

“Okay,” Mat said quietly, sitting up on an elbow. “Well, I’ll drive you back to his place—“

“No, no. I’m just gonna order an Uber,” she said hastily, followed by another long sigh. He wrinkled his brow, confused.

“We can’t tell him, Mat,” Genevieve said sadly, tossing him a forlorn glance, her fingers pressing into her temple. “We just... I can’t. I’m sorry.”

His heart broke a bit right then. In his mind, they would admit the truth about last night to Beau this morning, he would chirp them about it endlessly but be happy that they were happy, and they would all live happily ever after.

Evidently, Genevieve had different plans.

“So I’m gonna go, and then you can meet us at the cafe. Okay?” she asked, turning to face him straight on, seemingly so that he saw as little of her nude form as possible, despite having seen all of it last night.

Mat nodded, swallowing again. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

They both knew he wasn’t talking about the Uber. He was referencing something much more consequential than her ride home.

Genevieve pressed her lips together, looking down at her lap before meeting his eyes again. She nodded slowly.

“I just... I don’t think this is a good idea, Maty. I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t know how Anth would feel about...” She gestured between the two of them. Mat tried not to flinch, though he nearly did just that.

He nodded. Genevieve noted the pain in his eyes and averted her own to avoid being crushed by the knowledge that she had singlehandedly inflicted it upon him. Eventually, he found his voice again.

“Okay. Fine. I understand, I guess. I think you know how I feel about you, especially now, but it’s... it’s whatever you wanna do, G,” Mat said.

Genevieve blinked at him a few times, and for a fleeting moment as she opened her mouth, he thought she might change her mind.

His hopes crashed down in front of him as she shifted uncomfortably under the covers and requested, “Can you maybe just... look away while I get dressed?”

That time, Mat flinched.

_____

Mat couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw who was calling as he made his way home from the rink after practice on a snowy Monday nearly three months later, in early December. He pressed the green button on his dash display, said hello, and her fluttering voice filled his car.

“Mat… hi! Are you busy?”

Even if he were, Mat would’ve lied.

“No, no, not at all. What’s going on, G? How are you?” he asked as he switched lanes, fingers suddenly drumming on the steering wheel as nervous energy coursed through him.

Since the morning after they’d hooked up, the most they had communicated directly was texting half a dozen or so times, with Genevieve congratulating Mat on a good game or Mat asking if she knew where Beau was. Occasionally they’d bump into each other after a game, the ones she could actually make it to given her insane class schedule, or at the bar, and they’d both hug awkwardly and inevitably blush like schoolchildren. Mat missed her like hell, and he gently reminded her of that each time they touched base, but he respected her decision, even if he wasn’t fully convinced it was the right one.

Little did he know, Genevieve wasn’t fully convinced, either, but she willed herself to stand her ground, despite the sway he still held over her, without him even realizing it.

“I’m good. I’m good. Listen, um, I know this probably seems out of the blue, but… would you wanna meet up for coffee?” he heard her ask.

Mat’s brows shot up at her inquiry. He had long ago written off any chance at spending alone time with her and was caught off guard by her invitation.

“Sure,” Mat answered, though somewhat hesitantly. “I’d love to, you know that.”

She must have heard the surprise in his voice because she followed up with, “It’s just, I really miss you… and besides, there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Mat couldn’t keep the smug expression from his face. “Oh yeah? Other than just how much you miss me?” he asked arrogantly. He could practically hear Genevieve roll her eyes as she huffed into the phone.

“Just shut up and come here, you egomaniac,” she giggled. “I’m at my usual spot.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in fifteen. See you then. And, G?”

“Uh huh?”

A smile twitched at Mat’s lips as he replied.

“I’m glad you called,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words.

He heard the smile in her voice when she remarked, “I’m glad you answered. See you soon.”

_____

When Mat walked into the coffee shop minutes later, Genevieve was holed up at a corner table, notebooks and loose papers alike strung before her in a mass of organized chaos. She touched the tip of her tongue to her top lip and squinted at her laptop screen through her thick, tortoise-shell framed glasses.

Mat had never seen her wearing glasses before. Though he didn’t even think such a feat was possible, he fell a little more in love with her and became a little more tortured by her right then and there.

He approached her slowly so as not to startle her. As he came nearer, she didn’t even look up, deep in concentration as she typed. When she finally glanced away from her screen and toward a notebook across the table from her, Mat playfully crouched into her line of vision, tilting his chin upward as he waited for her to spot him.

Eventually, her eyes met his and immediately glimmered. She flushed slightly, putting her hand to her forehead with a groan.

“Oh, god, Maty, how long have you been standing there?” Genevieve asked, an apology in her tone.

Mat smiled and tried not to dwell on the way his pulse quickened when his nickname fell from her lips. “Long enough to observe that you might need your glasses prescription changed. You’re not supposed to squint at your screen like that, G,” he warned, approaching her and scanning the multitude of documents before her. “What is all this?” he asked, letting his gaze drift back to hers.

“It’s for my event this weekend. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” Genevieve responded tentatively. “But first, coffee,” she said, reaching for her wallet tucked inside her bookbag.

Mat reached for her hand, pushing it away and shaking his head.

“No, c’mon,” he insisted. “Let me. What can I get you?”

Genevieve looked at their touching fingers as he slowly pulled his away, then she gave him that killer half-grin of hers and breathed a sigh, giving into him since she knew trying to protest was useless.

“How ‘bout a peppermint tea? I think I’m overcaffeinated at this point anyway so I should probably take it easy on the coffee,” she admitted with a chuckle as she tucked some hair behind her ear. Mat nodded.

“Smart girl. Tea coming right up,” he promised with a squeeze of her shoulder. Genevieve thanked him and watched as he sauntered to the counter to stand in line.

His hair was longer, and she thought it made him look even more handsome, if that was even imaginable. He caught her ogling at him as he turned the corner to wait for his order, and she simply pursed her lips into a tight smirk and tried to refocus on her notes. He tried to refocus on anything but her. They both were clumsy in their attempts.

When he returned, he placed a large paper cup before her and she wrapped her hands around it with an appreciative hum.

“You’re the best,” Genevieve praised. He waved her off as he took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So why have I been summoned here, G?” Mat then asked, teasing in his question.

Genevieve bit at her full bottom lip and Mat tried to force his eyes not to linger there as she snapped her notebook shut and readjusted herself in her chair, clearing her throat.

“Okay, so you know I’m taking this event planning class this semester? It’s part of my major. And our final project is to plan a large-scale event,” she began, and he nodded as he sipped at his coffee, amused by her bubbly mannerisms as she spoke. “Well, so… a friend of mine in class kind of accidentally let slip that I’m Anthony’s cousin, and it turns out that the prof is friends with some Isles execs. She suggested that I plan a gala to benefit the team children’s foundation, and obviously since the professor fed me that idea, I couldn’t really say no. Especially since it’s 50 percent of my final grade, and obviously because it’s for such a great cause.” Mat nodded again, already seeing where this was going, but not exactly minding it.

“So since you guys don’t play this Saturday night, Anth had originally told me that he would go and kinda be the face of the team for me, but he backed out this morning,” Genevieve said, playing absentmindedly with her fingers in her lap. Mat was getting ready to take another swig when she added that last little tidbit, and he narrowed his eyes at her as he lowered his cup.

“What do you mean he backed out? What the hell else does he have to do?” Mat didn’t try to hide his annoyance — Beau had practically begged this poor girl to come and live with him and go to school in New York, and now he was jeopardizing her academic future?

“I don’t know,” Genevieve shrugged. “He said some girl he’s been talking to bought him tickets to the Nets game on Saturday night and he—“

“Oh, you gotta be fuckin’ kidding me...” Mat spat, then noticed the disappointment in her features, and immediately softened. “So, what can I do to help?” he asked, deciding that he would deal with the Beau issue later.

She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, and drew a deep breath as she summoned the courage to make her request.

“I was wondering if... if you’d go with me?” she eventually mumbled.

Mat was certain he had misheard, just like that day months ago on the ice. He licked his bottom lip quickly and sat back in his chair.

“Say again?” he deadpanned.

“I was wondering if you’d come with me,” Genevieve spoke, clearer and faster this time. “I know I don’t even deserve to ask you a favor like that, and you probably already have plans anyway, and I—“

“G, stop,” Mat interrupted dryly.

“It’s not like you’re my second choice or anything,” Genevieve continued, talking with her hands just like Beau did when he got flustered. “I wanted to ask you — really, I did. Trust me. It’s just… I was afraid Anth would be weird so—“

“G, stop,” Mat laughed, his voice firmer this time as his hand moved to rest on her knee. “I don’t need an explanation. Of course I’ll come with you. I’d be honored.”

Genevieve finally exhaled, throwing her hands over her face in sheer excitement and shaking her head back and forth.

“Ugh, Mathew Barzal, I could kiss you right now!” she exclaimed before she could pay a second thought to her words. She covered her mouth then, eyes bugging behind her glasses. Mat couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction.

“Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to that,” he quipped softly as he raised his coffee to his lips once more, smirking pompously at Genevieve as she breathed a laugh.

As she launched into the details of the event — what he should wear, what she would need from him, when he could pick her up — he found himself spacing. No detail she shared much mattered to him — not really. It didn’t affect his decision. No matter what this would cost him, literally or figuratively, he was all in.

All in on the gala, all in on Genevieve. All in.

She was letting him in, however little, and he planned to take full advantage of the opportunity. 

Mat insisted on giving Genevieve a ride to Beau’s apartment after they’d finished their drinks, convincing her that she needed to take a break from working and get a change of scenery. Surprisingly, she complied. He realized as she sat in his passenger seat just how much he had missed the way he felt in her presence. The world seemed to be in full color only when Genevieve was by his side.

Sadly, the drive was a short one, and soon Genevieve was hurriedly pulling her bookbag into her lap as Mat pulled over to the curb near the building’s entrance. Preparing for her to jump out of the car without giving him a second look, Mat was surprised when he felt her fingertips grasp his jaw. She placed a lingering kiss to his cheek, closer to his mouth than could be called chaste, and smoothed her thumb across the stubble on his chin.

“I really have to go, even though I don’t want to, but thanks a million, Maty,” Genevieve said, beaming at him as she pulled the straps of her bag onto her shoulders. “I can’t wait for this weekend. Bye.”

With that, she was scampering off, throwing him one last smile before disappearing through the doorway.

With a pursed exhale, Mat rested his forehead against the steering wheel and tried to talk himself down from the clusterfuck his brain had just launched into at her actions.

_____

The week dragged on for Mat. When Saturday finally arrived, he took far longer than usual to get ready, even FaceTiming his sister for her recommendations on the best tie and shoe combination to match his navy suit.

When Liana furrowed her eyebrows, curious why he cared so much about what he wore to what seemed to her to be a fairly routine team event, Mat knew what was coming and braced for it as she opened her mouth.

“Is this like a date or something—“

“Goodbye, Liana. Thank you,” Mat said curtly, cutting her off and quickly ending the call. Of course, it rang again immediately, but Mat chose to ignore it and tucked the device in his pocket as he gave himself one last glance in the mirror.

When the phone rang yet again, he huffed, prepared to answer and then immediately hang up on his dear, annoying baby sister, when he noticed it wasn’t Liana this time.

Stepping into his closet to choose an overcoat, he smiled and tapped the green button.

“Don’t tell me you’re cancelling on me now, G,” Mat said, half in jest, half in masked terror. “I just got dressed.”

To his dismay, Genevieve sounded panicked on the other end of the line.

“Uh, no, quite the opposite, actually,” she said nervously. “I’m kind of — okay, well, completely — freaking out over here, and I was wondering if you could maybe come over early and convince me not to call my professor and tell her I’m sick so I don’t have to see what a complete disaster this night turns out to be?”

Mat had pulled on a coat and flicked off the lights in his closet while she was talking, and he shifted the phone to his other ear to respond once she stopped rambling.

“Don’t do that,” he said firmly. “I’m leaving now. Sit tight. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Mat heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Maty,” she said. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His smile widened — he was always happy to play the role of knight in shining armor, but it meant more to him to be able to play it for Genevieve. His chest puffed with each word of her gratitude.

“You’re welcome, love,” he said before he realized the pet name that fell from his lips. But he couldn’t regret it, refused to even try, so he bid her goodbye for now and headed for the parking garage to ride away on his white stallion — er, Cadillac.

Ten minutes later — after navigating a route that should have taken at least fifteen — he was on her doorstep, the dozen red roses he had bought that morning in hand. Mat tried to act as though he wasn’t surprised to find her still in a set of Beau’s Isles sweats, donning her glasses, with her makeup half-finished and her hair not yet fixed. He glanced at the clock above her head that indicated only about forty minutes until they needed to leave the apartment, but decided to ignore that minor detail.

“Hi, gorgeous,” Mat said charmingly, extending the flowers to her. “These are for you. For good luck.”

Genevieve’s lips turned up momentarily into a grin, then folded into a frown, and she looked as though she may burst into tears at any moment. Forcing his way in the door, Mat set the bouquet on the entry table and gathered her into his chest, resting a hand on the back of her head and rubbing small circles on her back with the other.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “What’s goin’ on, G? Talk to me, baby.” Oh, shit. Another pet name. He really had to stop doing that.

Genevieve seemed unaffected by the term, though, and drew a shaking breath before squeezing his waist tightly and stepping away.

“Everything! This event is gonna crash and burn and it’s all my fault,” she cried, flinging her hands skyward for dramatic effect.

“What do you mean?” Mat inquired. “And while we talk, why don’t we go to your room so you can keep getting ready?” he added, placing a gentle hand to her hip. Thankfully, she nodded, despite heaving a sigh. As he turned them down the hall, she let her swirling thoughts erupt.

“The caterer called an hour ago and said they didn’t put in an order big enough for tonight so they’re gonna have to supplement the food with basically whatever they can find,” Genevieve began as they entered her room, motioning for Mat to take a seat on her meticulously made bed, which felt far more intimate than he was prepared for, not that he was complaining. She sat on the vanity bench nearby and hurriedly applied eyeshadow to her lids, prattling all the while. As she spoke, Mat glanced down at the dress laid out on the foot of the bed on a hanger, and he swore he forgot his own name for a moment as he gaped at it blankly.

“And I specifically ordered peonies, not poppies. Like how the fuck does a florist mess that up! I just—“

“Wait, sorry to interrupt, but this is what you’re wearing?” Mat choked out, sliding the shiny fabric between his first two fingers and thumb. Genevieve nodded, hurriedly fastening on a pearl cluster earring smack dab in the midst of her blush and bronzer routine.

“Yeah, Anthony insisted on taking me shopping and made me buy the most expensive goddamn dress in the store for some reason,” she grumbled. Mat made a mental note to thank Beau profusely. “I told him I couldn’t accept it but — wait, why? You hate it, don’t you?”

Mat’s eyes bugged at her question before he swallowed hard, shaking his head furiously. “No, no, it’s just... you’re gonna look so unfair,” he chuckled. Genevieve gave him a disbelieving look.

“Hardly,” she disagreed, apparently not noticing how gone he was at the moment. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter what I wear because it’s going to be an absolute shit show.”

She threw a fluffy brush into her makeup caddy with a clatter, and Mat approached where she sat fussing over herself anxiously in the mirror. She couldn’t help but notice the way her breath caught in her throat when his long fingers came to rest on her shoulders, stretching to her collarbone as he gazed at her intensely in their reflection. She felt herself relax under his touch.

“I know you’ve convinced yourself of that,” Mat began, his voice low, slow, sincere. “And that probably nothing I say will change your mind. But even if the food is wrong and the flowers are wrong and it doesn’t look exactly how you pictured it, it’s still gonna be a success. Because you made it happen. And you’re the most organized, most dedicated, hardest-working person I know,” he said as she finished applying her lipstick and sat up straight with a long, calming breath.

“And you’re the sweetest person I know,” she admitted airily. Mat beamed, squeezing her trap muscles. “Thank you,” she added, her hand finding his and bringing it to her lips, their eyes never straying from one another’s in the mirror until she stood up to face him.

He threw her hair over her shoulders and gawked at the perfect placement of her makeup, however much she had rushed its application.

“Makeup,” Mat spoke, drawing a pretend v-shape in thin air. “Check. One thing at a time.”

She snickered a bit, her hands ghosting across his suit coat for a moment, enchanted, before she snapped back to the task at hand.

“Okay, I have to go curl my hair, and then get dressed. And then, I’m ready,” she promised as Mat nodded and slowly returned to his seat on her bed. As she pulled a pair of strappy heels from underneath the bedskirt, he smiled down at her so fondly, and she realized she wouldn’t mind having him sitting right here more often.

Certainly wouldn’t mind.

She tossed Mat a wink as she picked up the dress, too, and hustled into the bathroom, suddenly feeling much more confident than she had without his presence — his reassurance.

Fifteen minutes later, after chattering with Mat through the door while taming her hair, she pulled on the dress and smoothed her hands over the skirt of it, tugged on her heels, and pulled open the door.

Mat stopped abruptly in the middle of a story about razzing her cousin at practice and stood to his feet, neither moving an inch.

Finally, Genevieve sighed and motioned toward her attire.

“So?” she spoke simply. “Acceptable?”

Mat scoffed, literally scoffed, and repeated, “Acceptable?” He rubbed a hand over his mouth and couldn’t help the boyish giggle he let out. “More than acceptable, G. You look... wow. Incredible. So incredible.”

Genevieve could admit to herself that she was pleased with his reaction — in fact, she couldn’t quite seem to detach her eyes from his face as his stare roamed her figure. She leaned against the doorpost and smirked.

“Remember what I said earlier this week? About how I could just kiss you right now?” she asked mischievously. He nodded slowly, eyes still studying the way her dress pulled tight in exactly the right places, then finding their way back to hers. “Kinda feeling that way again right now,” she added.

He exhaled sharply, standing up straighter, as she took a couple of paces toward him.

“Is that so?” he teased. She nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek. Mat hummed in anticipation as she came ever closer. “You sure about that?” he asked firmly, extending his arms with his palms out toward her, trying his damnedest to keep her at a distance.

She only nodded again, a gleam in her eye, and paused just a couple of feet from him, waiting for his approval.

“Take another step looking like that and I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” Mat warned, giving her one final out.

A small laugh passed through Genevieve’s nose, and she looked down at their feet as she daringly moved forward.

“I’m okay with that,” she whispered as she looked back to his face. Mat only quirked his brow in response.

“I think it’s time I focus less on pushing you away, and more on just…” Genevieve tenderly wrapped her arms around Mat’s neck. “Just finally letting things happen the way they’re supposed to,” she spoke.

Mat froze for a moment, then broke into an enormous grin. “Yeah?” he asked in awe.

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded, driving him insane. He pressed her lower back into his body as she assured, “Yeah. This is what I want.”

Mat barely let her speak that last word before capturing her lips in a searing kiss — all the nerves and anxiety about avoiding this melting away in a heartbeat as she moaned softly into his mouth, eliciting a smile from him against her skin.

“You’re beautiful, G,” Mat whispered when he finally came up for air. “You know that?” Genevieve blushed and tried to hide her face in Mat’s chest, but with a roll of his eyes, he caught her chin between his thumb and index finger and angled her face toward his own.

“No, none of that,” he said. “I’ve waited this long to be with you, G. Just let me look at you and tell you how gorgeous you are.”

Mat felt the warmth of her cheeks as he caressed them with the backs of his hands, losing himself in her criminally blue eyes.

“You are something else, Maty,” she said, letting her hands rest on his taut stomach as she leaned into him. “Now we really have to go, or we’re gonna be late.” With one last kiss pressed against his lips, Genevieve spun away from him, grabbed the pearl clutch from her bed, and tossed him a particularly wicked glance over her shoulder, laughing at his dumbfounded expression as she drifted out of the room.

And as he watched her walk away from him, hips swaying beneath the satin of her dress...

Mat knew he had no choice but to follow wherever she led.

_____

Whether she was aware of it or not, the girl knew how to command a room.

As Mat watched Genevieve engage the many high-profile sponsors and potential donors in the ballroom, he found himself thinking that he really didn’t even need to be here. She had this in the bag, and he was just arm candy for the night. And he realized he didn’t mind a bit.

Even so, he couldn’t help but swell with pride when she regularly turned away from conversations throughout the evening, searching the many faces in the crowd until she found his, her shoulders relaxing and her eyes flashing with affection when she finally did.

Finally, Mat sensed that the peace he had long ago found in her, she now felt in him. Nothing could ever make him happier than that.

Despite having different food and flowers than what Genevieve had planned, the event was a smashing success. She learned from her professor near the end of the gala that they had raised a quarter of a million dollars for the Islanders Children’s Foundation in this single night — a figure which made her nearly choke on her champagne and subsequently back Mat into a coat closet to reveal privately. Only he was more excited about the triumph than she, clutching excitedly at her sides as he pulled her to himself for a fiery kiss and gleefully congratulated her, both of them trying to stay as quiet as possible to remain undetected. When they regained their composure, they walked regally arm in arm back into the ballroom to say their thank you’s and goodbyes.

As they waited outside for the valet, Mat held Genevieve from behind, his arms encircling her waist under the grand stone archways of the old building. In her ear, he whispered her praises, pressing a kiss to her temple or jaw between each adjective as they awaited their ride.

“Smart. Beautiful. Capable. Stunning. Perfect. Worthy. Mine.”

That last one prompted her to spin in his arms, unashamed of who might see, and grasp his face for a firm kiss.

“Yours,” she whispered back dreamily.

_____

Soon they were back at her apartment building, rushing down the hall hand in hand, fully prepared to take advantage of Beau’s night on the town. Mat was mouthing hungrily at the back of Genevieve’s neck, from one side to the other, as she squealed and clumsily unlocked the door — a feat which took approximately five times as long as it normally did, considering the distraction hanging off of her, snaking its long arms around her torso as she finally tumbled through the doorway. Mat held onto her hips with a laugh to prevent her from falling on her face onto the tile beneath them, pulling her upward to resume their makeout until…

“Don’t you two look cute.”

Beau’s voice rang from the couch, startling both Mat and Genevieve as she pushed him away to create some distance between them. Mat cleared his throat as he unceremoniously gathered his footing beneath him. They both stood motionless in the entryway for several moments before Genevieve blinked at the basketball game playing on the television.

“Wait. What the hell, Anth… you’re watching the Nets game on TV? What happened to your date?” Genevieve asked as she took a few steps into the living room, tossing her clutch onto the couch so that she could put both hands on her hips and aim as much attitude as possible at her cousin.

“Yeah, I lied about that. The Nets are in Boston tonight, you geniuses,” Anthony informed them casually, taking the last swig from his beer bottle and placing it on the coffee table as he leaned forward.

“What do you mean, you lied? What the fuck, man?” Mat asked, incredulous.

“I did it on purpose!” Anthony bellowed, before the two gaped at him. “You two goons haven’t figured it out on your own by now, so I figured if I ditched, forced you into some alone time, bought G a pretty dress, maybe you’d see yourselves for what you really are. Hopelessly, disgustingly in love with each other. And apparently, it worked.”

Mat ran a hand slowly through his hair, tugging on his locks with a quiet laugh. Genevieve stood still, a hand suspended in mid-air, and whispered, “You planned this?”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “Of course I planned this,” he confirmed. “You really think I would just bail on you at the last minute for some girl? No! I knew you’d ask Mat, and I knew he would come to your rescue, and I knew you guys would have a great night together. Win, win, win.” Anthony rested his back against the couch once more, propping his feet up on the coffee table and folding his hands behind his head as he waggled his eyebrows. “I’m good, huh?” he remarked.

Mat took four quick strides toward his best friend and made a show of grabbing Anthony’s face and pressing a lip-smacking kiss to his forehead, which Anthony giggled over and wiped away, shaking his head.

“You’re my hero, man,” Mat spoke as he returned to Genevieve’s side and tucked her beneath his arm. Timidly, Genevieve asked Anthony, “You mean you’re not mad?”

Anthony’s big eyes grew even wider. “Mad?! My best friend and practically my sister are finally making each other happy. I’d be crazy to be mad! Or I’d be the Grinch. And I’m not the Grinch!” he assured as he pointed towards them.

Genevieve beamed, walking his way and placing a kiss to his cheek, squeezing his arm.

“Merci beaucoup,” she whispered when she pulled back from his face, only to see that he was smiling from ear to ear. He gave her a solemn nod. 

Genevieve extended a hand toward Mat which he accepted gladly, then she turned back to her cousin.

“Well, on that note, since your plan was such a success, and so was my event, Mat and I are gonna go celebrate,” she informed him with a grin. Anthony chuckled and lifted his beer bottle in their direction.

“Cheers to that,” he said. “I’ll just turn up the volume.”

Mat and Genevieve laughed and said goodnight before making their way down the hall. Mat couldn’t close the door fast enough before spinning her and pinning her against it as she smirked, her form melting into his as he kissed her fiercely. For several minutes they stayed there as one, with their parting lips and their breathing the only sounds in the room. Soon, Mat pulled back, both his hands holding Genevieve’s face as he searched her eyes.

“Promise me this is really what you want, G. Promise me you won’t push me away again,” he implored, his voice sounding needier than it ever had. Genevieve felt the stab at her gut upon remembering once more that she’d really almost fucked this up.

She sifted her fingers through his long, coal black hair of his and looked into his green-flecked eyes, which begged her for reassurance. Mat swallowed thickly as she cupped his strong jaw.

“I promise I won’t, Mathew,” she whispered. “I won’t. I can’t. I need you.”

With that, she squeezed his cheeks between her fingers and smothered his lips with her own. Mat tasted the sweet champagne on her skin and moaned.

“Mine,” he said again, gruffly this time, into her ear as he trailed hot kisses down her jaw.

“Yours,” she repeated breathlessly.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

The Green-Eyed Monster

This is a sequel to Water Seeks Its Own Level, although you probably don’t have to read that one for this one to make sense. It’s set a few months after the events of that story. I originally intended to write for someone new but I am just totally smitten with Eddie. He called me back to him. 

Pairing: Eddie Kingston x OFC

Word count: 3,836

Content advisory: a healthy dose of smut and cursing

“Son of a bitch!” You jerk your hand back, wincing in pain and you smack the side of the toaster oven, as if it’s the appliance’s fault you haven’t yet figured out that food coming out of the oven is hot. To make things worse, you actually feel a little guilty for taking your anger out on the inanimate object. You’re in a bad mood. The toaster oven is just the latest thing to make your day worse. 

You run some cold water on your hand before you go back for another attempt at removing the leftover pizza slice that you don’t even want but you figure you should eat something because you’ve poured a couple of beer down your gullet and if you don’t eat something, you’re going to get a headache. 

So you gnaw joylessly at your pizza slice, trying not to notice that reheating it has not made it taste fresher than the three days it’s been in your refrigerator. None of this would have happened, of course, if you’d just gone out with the rest of the crew like you’d assumed you would. There was a Korean barbecue place that a few of the AEW gang had heard good things about and finally someone had taken it upon themselves to get a side room reserved so that you could all go together and have a good time. You’d been looking forward to it. 

But earlier in the day, you’d found out that the group that was going included Eddie, along with his new so-called family: the Butcher, the Blade, and the Bunny, also known as Andy, Braxton, and Allie. It shouldn’t have bothered you. They’d known each other a long time. You knew them all well. They’d all been bugging you to come along whenever they were going out together, or at least they had until recently. 

As things too often did for you, it came down to Eddie. After he’d shown up in AEW, the two of you had rekindled the fuck-buddy thing you’d had going when you were both on the indies. The problem was that now you weren’t just hooking up when you happened to be on the same tour or show: you were together every week, living in the same city, working the same schedule. So your casual, no-strings-attached thing had become a very frequent thing. It had become a leaving stuff in each other’s apartments thing. It had become a casual understanding of at least one night of the weekend together thing. 

What it hadn’t become was a relationship, at least not in the articulated, public, monogamous sense. You didn’t have anyone else in your life. You didn’t want anyone else in your life. You’d spent years telling yourself that Eddie was just someone you could go to for a good time in the sack, and even though you were aware that he always stirred up feelings in you that went beyond a fallback booty call, you kept telling yourself that was all it was. 

Now that the two of you were actually stable in terms of work and living space, though, you’d started to wonder if maybe you did want things to be a bit more stable with Eddie as well. Although you’d never discussed your status, you didn’t have anyone else in your life and you didn’t want anyone else in your life. Even though you were surrounded by beautiful people at work, people who had their shit far more together than Eddie Kingston ever would, it was like they didn’t really exist. You didn’t say that to him because you didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself. If it was going to happen, it would come out naturally, by which you meant that he’d have to get around to bringing it up. 

Things had been fine until recently, until Eddie had taken it upon himself to reunite Braxton with his estranged wife Allie, the Bunny, so that they could have each other’s backs. At least, that’s what he said he was doing. But it actually seemed that Allie was spending most of her time with Eddie. He was the one on television calling her “the beautiful Bunny” and taking credit for wooing her back to the fold. He convinced her to join them. He was the one she seemed loyal to. Even backstage, when the four of them were around each other, Allie always seemed to be hanging off Eddie’s arm, laughing extra loudly at his jokes, and insisting that he come along wherever she was going. It made your blood boil. 

You didn’t say anything because it wasn’t like you had reason to think that Eddie wasn’t going to have anyone else in his life. And you were even sure if he did, because cuckolding his friend right in front of his face would be bold even for him. You’d gone out with the group of them a couple of times but you’d felt nauseous from jealousy, watching him talk about how great it was that they were all working together again. 

So you’d ended up begging off and just spending time with Eddie when you could be alone. More recently, you’d just started avoiding him because thinking that he was leaving your bed to have a quick shower and then run off to another woman had you crying your eyes out on several occasions. You never said anything, you just stopped returning his texts and stayed clear of him at work. And after a while, he’d stopped messaging and trying to talk to you. Things were over. 

You throw the remainder of the pizza in the garbage. Thinking about everything that’s happened in this weird, hopeless thing with him makes you feel rejected and miserable all over again. You miss him. A lot. But now it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want anything more with you, that he wants to keep things open, and you know you can’t deal with that. 

The doorbell cuts through the fog of frustration and self-pity, startling you so much that you give a little yelp. You old place had one of those systems when the bell was hooked up to your phone but this one had a buzzer that sounded like an aircraft engine and you didn’t feel like you were ever going to get used to it. 

“Hello?” You mumble, hoping that it isn’t another homeless person looking to sleep in the hallway downstairs. 

“It’s me, can I come up?”

He doesn’t even have to say his name because you’d know that almost cartoonish accent anywhere. It figures that he’d just show up unannounced after eleven, like nothing had been weird between you. Maybe for him, things hadn’t been weird at all. 

“Yeah, sure.” You press the release to open the front door and wait, pacing a little and trying to stay calm until you hear a knock on your door. 

And when you open it, there’s Eddie, his face and jacket sprinkled with rain, sporting a fresh-looking bruise on his left eye that he turns to try to hide it. 

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” he grunts, his eyes a little suspicious and resentful. 

“True. Guess we’ve both been busy.”

You motion for him to come inside, quietly pleased that he remembers to take his boots off. You reach over to take his jacket so that you can hang it up and he looks almost offended. 

“I know where it goes,” he snaps, opening the closet and putting it on a hanger himself. 

You grip his jaw and turn his face so that you can get a better look at the damaged eye. 

“What happened?”

He steps back, pouting like a child who’s been caught doing something he knows he isn’t supposed to. 

“We went out to a bar after the restaurant. Archer offered to buy me a drink, and I said I wanted to buy him a drink. I guess it got out of hand.”

“Two friends try to buy a round at the bar turns into a fistfight. That is so you.” 

You can’t help but laugh at your own joke because it is such an Eddie thing but he doesn’t seem amused. 

“You got something I can put on this?” He grumbles. 

“I have a couple of ice packs in the freezer. Come on.”

He follows you over to the open kitchen with its little breakfast counter while you start lifting frozen entrees out of the way to find the artificial ice. 

“So how come you didn’t come to dinner?”

“I don’t know,” you lie. “My stomach was a bit upset and I probably wouldn’t have been much fun.”

He gives a low cackle. “You just don’t like it when you can’t have me all to yourself.”

You pause from digging through the back of the freezer to shoot him a scornful look. 

“You just want me there so you can have a larger audience,” you retort, standing and producing the ice pack. 

“Who said I wanted you there?”

You slap the cold pack into his cheek, giving a cruel little smile when he winces at the impact. 

“Thank god you never decided to become a nurse,” he growls. 

You can feel his eyes digging into you, searching for an opening. He knows all your fault lines so well, but he knows that there’s something going on with you that he hasn’t seen before. Your body twists under his scrutiny, trying to make it less obvious that you’re avoiding meeting his gaze. 

“So what’s up with you anyway?” he asks, still studying you too closely for comfort.

“Not much. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine with me.”

“What?” You finally look back at him, eyes wide with fake surprise. “Did I say something that made you think I was pissed at you? Did I do something to get you pissed off?”

“Come on. You know what I mean. You barely talk to me at work, you never go out if you think I’m gonna be there. You won’t answer when I message you, or it’s two words long like I’m annoying you. I thought things were going ok with us for once.”

“They were. They are,” you counter desperately. 

He places the ice pack on the counter and arches his brows at you. When you reach to remove it, he grabs your wrist and pulls you between his body and the counter, shaking his head as he presses it hard against yours. 

His hands graze down to your hips and under your shorts, gripping both of your ass cheeks hard and you feel yourself melt against him, as you always do. You incline your head forward until your lips are against his, your arms winding around his neck, and you let yourself fall into the kiss you’d told yourself you were going to avoid. Everything that Eddie does with that mouth of his is magic and every second you spend locked in that embrace, you get drawn further in. 

“I missed this,” he growls softly, giving a hard squeeze for emphasis.

It’s almost painful to pull yourself back from what you want so much but if you don’t extricate yourself now, you’ll be going crazy over him forever, so you force yourself to do it. 

You try to pivot a little but he has you locked in place. 

“Please, just let me put the cold pack back in the fridge.”

“No,” he whispers, giving you an evil little smile before nipping at the skin of your neck. “That’s gonna stay right there and melt and make a mess until you tell me what’s going on with you.”

“That’s not fair!” You whine, trying fruitlessly to reach back so you can at least throw the stupid in thing in the sink. 

“Kinda seems like the Princess has decided she’s too good for me again.”

His lips lock onto the base of your throat and you main loudly. He’s doing it on purpose, tweaking your sensitive spots with his caresses and his words. 

“You know that’s not true, Eddie.”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you were afraid someone might find out that I was your dirty little secret.”

“It’s not that, I don’t give a fuck who knows.”

That draws a guttural laugh from him and the sound makes your stomach flip. You don’t offer any resistance when he eases your tank top over your head and trails kisses down the center of your chest. 

“So tell me,” he insists, twisting a nipple hard between his fingers, “why I haven’t been getting any of this.”

“Why does it have to be something wrong with me? You’re the one with your new faction or family or whatever, making all sorts of plans and wooing Allie to join you.”

He lifts his head and as soon as you see the smirk on his face, you know you’re done for. 

“Wooing Allie?”

“I don’t know what you call it. You got her to ditch what she was doing and go back with you guys.”

“I call it talking to my friend’s wife and making her work things out with him. That’s not what most people would call ‘wooing’, princess.”

“Whatever, I just meant that you’ve been busy so maybe I’m the one who should feel neglected.”

You fold your arms in front of your chest because the only thing worse than trying to salvage your stupid comment is trying to do it half naked while he gives you that amused look. 

“I don’t believe it. You’re fucking jealous.”

“No,” you whine. 

“Oh yes you are. You think there’s something going on with me and Allie.”

“I guess it seems like you have a bit of a thing for her, at least. You’re always talking about how beautiful she is and all that.”

“Princess, has anyone explained to you that not everything you see in wrestling is real?”

“It doesn’t matter. I just said that you’d been busy and-“

He kisses you again, little ripples of laughter coming out as he does. You return the kiss, diving in and hoping that you can just shut him up and make him forget what you’ve said, and to shut yourself up before you say anything worse. 

“I like this,” he chuckles. “You’re jealous because you think I’m hot for someone else.”

“Fuck off, I never said that.”

The two of you continue kissing, more passionately and hungrier than before, but the next time he pulls back to catch his breath, he goes back to his new favourite subject. 

“I am never letting you live this one down.”

“You can leave any time, you smug asshole.”

He chuckles again, his hand sliding under your clothes, between your legs. He buries his face against you, his lips pressed against your ear as he drags one finger, ever so lightly, from the back of your slit all the way up to your throbbing little nub, repeating the gesture and using his hip to hold you still and stop you from thrusting against him to get more friction. He just keeps up with that ghost of a touch, humming with pleasure the more he can feel your frustration. 

“You want me to go? Really? Because it feels like maybe you’re not so sure.”

You just whimper in need, while at the same time trying to force the desire you’re feeling out of your body. 

He lightly strokes and taps at your clit as he whispers to you, “I like that you’re jealous. But you need to tell me these things, not deprive both of us, ya silly brat.”

His attention then shifts, two thick fingers swirling at your entrance while the two of you bite and lick at each other. You hold out as long as you can, which isn’t long at all, before begging. 

“Don’t do that. Stop teasing.”

“Well what do you want me to do?” he rasps, grinning as you thrust against him, trying to force some more pressure. 

“Fuck me. Stop talking and fuck me through the mattress and into the goddamned floor.”

He lifts you up by your thighs, smiling when you wrap your arms around him to secure yourself as he carries you to your bed. As he places you down, he removes the rest of your clothing in one smooth movement before discarding his own. You kiss playfully for a moment before you tap his thigh. 

“Get up here,” you order. 

And he is most happy to oblige, kneeling over your body and letting you take his thick cock in hand, easing the swollen tip past your lips, sucking and licking while you slowly move your hand along his shaft, occasionally letting your thumb flick delicately along the seam, relishing the yelps this gesture never fails to elicit from him.  

“So you want that even if I’ve been giving it to another woman?”

You growl but the vibrations only increase his pleasure and he starts to thrust a little, pushing himself further into your mouth and throat. 

“Aw, don’t worry,” he purrs, “I’ll always have some use for you.”

At that, you punch him hard in the hip and rake your nails down his ass. He eases down your body, sparkling, mischievous eyes meeting yours. It’s like there’s nothing else in the whole world for you but you know better than to say so. 

“You know what you need to do, Kingston? You need to shut the fuck up.” You push on his shoulders to direct him where you want him to go, and while he takes his time getting there, the journey involves him working his way down your body, like he’s worshipping you. 

“This what you want?” he asks, licking at your soaked flesh. 

“Mm-hmm.” You squirm in anticipation, suspecting that he might try to draw this out longer, so when he dives in and starts fucking you with his tongue, lips and teeth, you let out a loud moan and clench at the bedsheet with both fists. You’re already so close.”

“Lucky for you I have such good stamina,” he hisses. “So I can handle all of these women I’m fucking.”

“You’re still talking,” you groan. “Why are you still talking?”

He gives a harsh bite on the inside of your thigh. “Look at me.”

You glare down at him but immediately feel a little unnerved by the deadly serious look in his eyes. 

“You know damn well there aren’t any other women. I haven’t fucked another woman, haven’t kissed- hell I haven’t even beat off thinking about another woman in months. So let me enjoy this for a few hours until you go back to thinking you’re too good for me.”

With that he goes right back at it, letting you feel the full skill of that constantly moving mouth. You let yourself go, feeling for the first time in ages like you have exactly what you want, what you need, right here in your bed doing everything to make you happy. Your whole body trembles in ecstasy, the tide rising steadily within you, your whines and moans growing ever louder. 

“I love you.”

It slips out so naturally that you almost don’t notice that you’ve said it until he pulls back. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” 

“Get back down there!” You push his head but he shakes you off and now you’re aware you have a problem. 

“Oh no, I want you to repeat what you just said.”

“I don’t remember,” you whine. 

“Sure you do.” He moves to his side next to you, running his fingers over your skin so that you stay worked up, frustrated, and desperate. 

“I fucking hate you.”

“No,” he scolds, “that wasn’t what you said.”

You exhale in exasperation. 

“Let me get you started. You said ‘I’... come on, repeat after me.”

“What makes you think I even meant it?”

“Well you have to tell me whether you did or not, don’t you, princess?”

His finger traces a curved line between your hip bones that only accentuates your overwhelming, unmet need. 

“I’m not hearing anything,” he coos, flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

“Fine!” you roar, hitting your breaking point. “I said that I love you, and yeah, I meant it.”

Grinning, he moves back down your body. 

“Now was that so hard?” he asks just as he buries his face between your legs again. 

You’d love to give a sharp retort but the second he’s giving you what you want, every other thought leaves your mind. You are one pulsating nerve waiting for release and he is expertly guiding you there. Within minutes you’re screaming his name, tears leaking from your eyes as you come down from the best orgasm you think you’ve ever had. 

By the time you can open your eyes, he’s hovering over you, the tip of his cock throbbing against the lips of your pussy. 

“Say it again.”

You groan a little and push against him but it doesn’t work. 

“Say it again and look at me this time.”

His incredible eyes bear down on you and it’s very different than before. This time, you can’t hide the truth of it behind sarcasm and annoyance. This time he can see into you. You’re vulnerable. 

“Come on.” He prods at your face with his nose and lips before once again locking you with that killer stare. “Let me hear you.”

“I love you,” you stammer, trying to read his reaction and more than a little afraid of what that might be. 

He moans a little and pushes himself part way inside you, rocking his hips slowly. 

“Again,” he rasps. 

“Don’t be like this. I said it. I said it twice. What the hell do you want?”

He grabs a handful of your hair and thrusts his face even closer to yours. “Five years. Five fucking years I’ve been waiting for you to come around. So I want to get the most out of this that I can.”

“Eddie Kingston, I love you.”

He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and thrusts into you harder. 

“Are you going to say it back?” 

“Sure,” he laughs. “When I feel like it.”

He pounds into you with increased vigor, laughing more when he sees your face contort somewhere between fury and ecstasy, your pussy contracting involuntarily around him. 

“You are such a bastard,” you yell, fighting the second orgasm that’s about to overtake you. 

The phrase is barely past your lips when your whole body spasms, pulling him right along with you. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he pants after a couple of minutes. “I am a bastard. But you finally managed to figure out I’m the bastard you want.”

You can’t help but laugh, wondering if he really did know ages before you did that you were in love with him, or if he was just hopeful. You run your hands over the back of his head and pull on his earlobe a little with your teeth. 

“God help me,” you whisper.

[plaidbooks]

Asthma

A/N: This is a Sonny Carisi x reader fic and as the title may suggest, it’s about asthma! I have asthma, and something like this happened to me (thank god for friends who know how to use inhalers). Please be aware that not all asthma works like this, and it’s highly specific to myself and how my asthma is. anyways, hope y’all enjoy.

P.S. I have a headcanon that Sonny switches to Italian when stressed/upset/scared because it calms him down

Tags: asthma attacks/lack of oxygen, near-death experiences

Words: 1722

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @barbasimp @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @dreamlover31

Translations: Merda = shit

Fanculo = fuck

Stai bene? = are you ok?

come funziona di nuovo? = How does this work again?

Non farlo di nuovo! = Don’t do that again!

~~~~~~~~~~ 

You had been running around all day in the New York City heat and humidity, your lungs burning as you finally made it home. You’d think after living here for so long, you’d be used to the oppressive air by now, but you still had breathing issues. Which is why you had two albuterol inhalers for your asthma—one in your purse and one on the counter in the kitchen. Your kitchen was in the middle of your apartment and made the most sense logistically as to where to keep it—it was the perfect distance whether you were coming from the bedroom or the living room.

You had only really had a bad asthma attack once before, and you knew that you had a good 5-10 seconds before you’d lose consciousness. But that was also dependent on how much you panicked; if your brain went into overdrive, then you’d start breathing harder and you’d run out of air faster. It was all about mind over matter, but sometimes, even with mild attacks, it was hard to not panic. It was the natural response to not being able to breathe.

Collapsing onto the couch, you turned your laptop on, hoping to just relax with some funny videos on youtube for the night until your boyfriend, Sonny, came home. Since becoming an ADA, he was coming home earlier than when he was a detective. Though he usually brought cases home with him, working on the coffee table until late in the evening. You didn’t mind; at least you could sit with him, keep each other company, even talk when he wasn’t super invested. Plus, you loved when he’d stand in front of you, running you through his closing arguments or his cross as if you were a witness.

 ***********************

You lost track of time as you laughed heartily at a video, your laughter erupting out of you. You clutched your stomach in pain, tears in your eyes as you laughed. Then, you went to suck in a lungful of air. But nothing happened. You tried again and got a weird rasping sound in your throat. Your eyes went wide as you realized what had happened; you had laughed so hard, you were having an asthma attack. Panic swept through you and you sprung to your feet. But it had been a while now—seconds, though they stretched on—without air, and you were suddenly light-headed. Your lungs burned and it was like a sledgehammer was being pressed upon your chest. You gasped for breath but got nothing in return. Glancing through your fading vision at the kitchen, you took one step, then another, your senses slowly turning off before darkness overtook you.

***

Sonny walked down the hallway to the apartment he shared with you, whistling a tune. Today had gone surprisingly well, and he was off much earlier than he expected, with the weekend stretched before him. He even left all his case files at work, not bothering to work anymore once he left the office for the night.

Digging his key out of his pocket, he went to unlock the door. There was a loud thud from inside the apartment, and Sonny froze.

“Doll?” he called out. He pressed his ear to the door, his hand fumbling for the keyhole. There was no response, and it made his panic rise like bile in his throat. His hand was shaking so badly, he had to steady it with his other hand to get the key in. But in his hurry, he turned it too hard, snapping the key in the keyhole.

Sonny took a step back, braced himself, then kicked the door open, the wood splintering. He rushed in, glancing around until he found you, laying on your side, unmoving.

“Merda! Stai bene?” he asked, making his way over to you. Sonny knelt down, rolling you onto your back. Your chest was barely moving, and you were rasping with every breath. He knew about your asthma, but he had never seen you like this and had not expected it.

Sonny hurried to the kitchen, snatching your inhaler off the counter. He rushed back to you, your breathing much more shallow now, even after a few seconds.

“Fanculo, fanculo…come funziona di nuovo?” he muttered to himself, shaking the inhaler in his hand. He’d never needed to use it before, and you showed him how so long ago…. He ripped the cap off, placing it gently in your mouth. Feeling like he was hurting rather than helping, he plugged your nose as he pressed the cylinder with the medicine down, hearing the spray go into your mouth.

He waited, counting in his head to ten, all the while mumbling, “merda, merda, merda,” over and over again like a mantra. Once he hit ten, he released your nose and took the inhaler from your mouth. Slowly, you started taking deeper and deeper breaths, and your eyelids fluttered before opening.

***

Your chest was on fire and your throat burned as you came to, groggy and disoriented. Though, your mind was rushing, in the way that only your asthma medication did to you—it was a breathable steroid/adrenaline. When your eyes focused, you saw Sonny leaning over you, looking worried to death. But when he saw your eyes opened, a wide grin of relief spread across his face.

“Fanculo! Non farlo di nuovo!” he said, helping you to sit up.

You winced at the motion, giving him a look. “W-what? You’re speaking Italian, Dom.”

“I-I know…I do that when I’m scared. It calms me.”

You chuckled lightly, but grimace as pain broke through your chest. “That’s not helpful when I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Never mind; can you get up? I need to take you to the hospital—”

“No,” you replied. “I’m fine—I’ll be fine. Just…help me to the couch.”

Sonny gave you a hard look before he helped you stand, guiding you to the couch. “You should still go to the hospital; who knows how long you were on the ground without air?”

“Was I still breathing when you used the inhaler?” you asked. You held out your hand for it, and Sonny passed you the little piece of plastic that had just saved your life.

“Y-yeah, but barely—”

“Then I’m fine.” You glanced at Sonny, who was gearing up for an argument, and you sighed. “If I were to go to the hospital right now, they’ll either do nothing or just give me another dose of albuterol, Dom. Honestly, I’m fine, okay?” He still looked willing to argue, so you added, “I know it must’ve been…bad, seeing me on the ground like that. But I promise you I’m okay.”

Sonny let out a long sigh, rubbing his face with both hands. “Okay. I trust your judgement with your own medical issues.” He sat down on the couch next to you. “But run me through how to use the inhaler again—I wanna make sure I did it right. And please explain to me what the hell happened.”

You chuckled, raising the inhaler—you were going to take a second dose, anyway, to get rid of the pain in your chest. Sonny watched intently, happy to find that even in his panic, he had, in fact, done it correctly. As you held your breath, letting the medication work its way into your lungs, your eyes travelled to the front door, still ajar, the frame in pieces.

“Sonny, what the fuck?” you coughed out.

His eyes followed yours and he swallowed. “I, uh, I forgot I did that,” he replied, smiling sheepishly.

“Well now what do we do? We can’t leave our place open like this,” you glanced at the time; it was late, and no hardware store would be open for new doors. And you were pretty sure your landlord was going to be pissed.

“It’s fine; I can make it so it looks closed. If you don’t feel safe, we can go to a hotel until I fix it tomorrow,” Sonny said, standing. You nodded and he was off, packing an overnight bag for you both.

 *******************

By the time you were at the hotel, you were exhausted. The effects of the medication had run its course, and you just wanted to sleep. Sonny, of course, didn’t allow you carry anything as he led you to your room. He swiped the keycard, letting you in first, and you all but collapsed onto the bed.

“You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

Your voice was muffled as you replied, and he asked again. Turning your head to the side, you mumbled, “fine, just tired.”

“It’s late; let’s get in bed.” Sonny stripped quickly, then helped you stand, gently pulling your shirt up and off. Once in just your panties, you crawled under the covers, curling onto your side. Sonny got in behind you, wrapping himself around you. “I love you,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, too, Dom,” you whispered back. Mercifully, you fell asleep almost instantly, the long day wearing you out.

But Sonny hardly slept, afraid that he’d wake up to you no longer breathing. Instead, he laid there, cradling you in his arms, listening to your soft breaths, the sound music to his ears. He dozed off and on, but mostly, he just held you, trying not to tear up as he thought about what might’ve happened if he had worked his normal hours, staying late in the office. He also thought about the other thing he packed in the overnight bag, hidden deep underneath everything else, for fear of it being stolen from your apartment as well as the fear of your finding it.

Inside a sock, rolled up and shoved underneath everything else, was a little box. And in that box was the most perfect engagement ring that Sonny knew you’d love. He’d been planning to propose around your birthday, but now, with that near-death scare, he was thinking that he should just do it now. He was off the next two days, and you were already planning to do dinner tomorrow night. Would it be weird timing now? But at the same time, life was short; today proved that. As the sun came up, streaming through the drawn curtains, Sonny made up his mind.

[lovelylou]

since 2020 is almost over, i thought i’d share (some of) my favorite fics that made my 2020 a lot better.

[note: not all of these fics were written/published in 2020, although most of them are, there are some that are older, but that i’ve read or re-read this year]

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tastes like summer, smiles like may by outropeace

“Is this true?” Harry grabbed the beta by the shoulders. “Bryce, where did you hear that?”

“There’s rumors going around the castle,” he smirked. “stories about his beauty and his cold attitude. They know he is an omega only because of his scent, but he has never had a heat.”

“Do you know what this means?”

Bryce smirk grew into a big smile. “He can’t give you an heir.”

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

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But It's Useless by thinlines

“Hey.”

Louis was even hallucinating now. He closed his eyes.

“Hey, you.”

He chuckled wetly, head still leaning against the door.

“Can you get out of the way? You're blocking the door.”

He exhaled sharply before slowly turning around. His eyes fixed onto muddy Nike trainers before it traveled up to impossibly short jogging shorts. The yellow color was atrocious, simply ghastly.

“What happened to being polite, Harold?”

OR Omega Louis would never guess that he would be trying to hack into Alpha Harry's Wifi. That is until everything changes when he tries to get to know his enemy.

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haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

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On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

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even the best laid plans by falsegoodnight

“Anyways,” Louis stresses, narrowing his eyes, “just let me say it and then rate how terrible of an idea it is on a scale from one to ten.”

“Alright,” Zayn agrees, sitting up expectantly.

“I want to ask Harry Styles to take my virginity,” Louis blurts, holding his hands out for emphasis.

The way Zayn’s eyes bulge is almost comical. “Negative infinity,” he says, voice choked. “Negative infinity times negative infinity.”

“Technically, a negative times a negative is -”

“Really negative infinity,” Zayn corrects himself, shaking his head wildly. “Louis, what the fuck?”

-

Or, Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

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The Compulsion to Find Love by Toomanytears

The most prestigious English third-level institution, Candling University, accepts omega students for the first time and Louis Tomlinson applies with bright eyes and brighter ambitions. There he encounters personal obstacles, traditional mindsets and a beautiful boy who inverts every prejudice Louis has ever known.

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Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo (KimmieRocks)

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

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UN(RE)SO LVED. by daddyharrie

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

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Hate to Smoke (Without Me) by louhazpride

“For fuck’s sake,” he huffs, grabbing the pillow and pulling it on top of his head in an attempt to block out the banging coming from the other side of the wall.

It’s the third time this week that his neighbour has woken him up in the middle of the night with his little ‘rendezvous.’ Honestly, he's quite sick of it. There’s only so much sex he can bear to hear in one week and he has already hit his limit. If he wanted to listen to someone having sex, he’d turn to porn.

As if the noises weren’t enough, Harry immediately becomes aware of the faint aroma of weed filling his flat.

“I’m going to murder him.”

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

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Three Days in February by writing_practice

“We have to get out of here, outside,” Harry whispered, turning his hand in Louis’s grip to hold on and pull them both to their feet.

“And how do we fucking do that?” Louis hissed, carefully rising and pulling Harry to his feet before Harry could do it. His gaze darted to the front then back of the arena. “None of the doors are where they’re supposed to be.”

“What?” Harry looked around again too, couldn’t see any doors, only knew that they must be there, somewhere. “How do you know?”

Confusion slid over Louis's features.

“Because we’ve been here before, Haz. It’s the O2.”

The show. It must be the first night of their tour. They were too late; they were out of time.

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

Ridiculous amounts of banter and angst, a lot of Harry and Louis alone together, a healthy dose of OT5 friendship, and one very magical weekend.

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Coming Up For Air by stylinsoncity

It's a long plane ride to LA but sitting beside Harry makes time fly.

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I'd Give Up Everything Just Ask Me To by Rearviewdreamer

They don't usually exchange Christmas gifts, but this year is different. This year, Louis knows exactly what he wants to put under the tree to make his boyfriend smile. He just doesn't know how he's going to get it.

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bruise you like a peach by falsegoodnight

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

-

Alternatively titled 'the peach fic.'

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Sometimes You Just Know by 2tiedships2

“Dear diary. Today is going to be a good day, and here’s why...”

“What are you doing?” Louis mumbled as he bit into a piece of toast.

“It’s been almost two years and today Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson reunite. Louis is very excited about…”

Louis’ chair screeched along the kitchen floor as he flew up out of his seat, quickly grabbing the paper from Niall’s grasp. As he scanned the page he found it amounted to lines of nothing.

“What is this?” Louis asked again. “We’ve discussed how Harry Styles will never be spoken of in this flat. I don’t care how long it’s been.”

Niall snatched the paper from Louis and proceeded to draw a line across the page before writing.

“Today is the day that he-who-shall-not-be-named is coming to dinner.”

Or the one where Harry and Louis don’t believe in soulmates… until they do.

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eyes off you by soldouthaz

“Just promise me you’ll do whatever it takes to keep us all safe while we’re in there,” Liam says.

Through the crack in the door, Louis can just barely make out the broad curve of Harry’s back, the slope of his curls as they tumble down all sleep-soft and lazy, and the sharp twist of his arm - all leading down to where he’s got his pointer and middle finger crossed over each other behind his back.

“I promise,” he tells Liam firmly, “I promise.”

--

or; a charlie’s angels inspired fic where louis is the brains, harry is the charm, liam is the muscle, and niall drives the getaway car - and zayn is there, too. sometimes.

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Welcome to The Rivalry by 2tiedships2

“Welcome home!” Niall yelled, clapping his hands in excitement. “Isn’t it great?”

Louis looked between Niall and the house, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t understand,” Louis finally managed to say. “Aren’t we a little old to be living so close to campus?”

Niall scoffed. “You’re only twenty-four for fuck’s sake. There is still plenty of partying left for us to do. What better place than one street over from where a car was set on fire after the Michigan game last year?”

“Is there proof of that? Did the car have Michigan plates or something? Is there a photo I can send in a DM to Wolfie?”

As if on cue, a Twitter notification popped up on Louis’ Apple watch. He had tweeted again.

Or a reverse You’ve Got Mail au inspired by the Ohio State/Michigan rivalry. Featuring duplex neighbors, (kind of) enemies to lovers, and an anonymous Twitter feud between omega Louis and alpha Harry.

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Cold Little Heart by seducedbycurls

Louis is a soft omega with an abusive past and an alpha child

A few months after getting a divorce, Louis meets Harry, an ex-military alpha wolf that offers him something -odd.

In exchange for teaching him how to cook, Harry will babysit his son, Abraham

Louis really could use the help.

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