#telling people my birthday is coming up feels like I’m demanding presents

[autisticer-tim-drake]

Tell people my birthday is coming up?

I would rather die

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Malleus, Deuce: Like Mother, Like Son

BRO'S STILL MAKING THE "ARE YOU LOST BBY GHORL" FACE … Malleus’s birthday hits different knowing what I know now 💀 ALSO THE FACT THAT DEUCE SAID "THAT" ABOUT MALEFICENT VS THE HUMANS IS... (trying to keep this wording vague so as to not spoil people who haven’t gotten there yet)

It’s nice to see Malleus and Deuce in the vignettes, I feel like they don’t get to interact that much (which is a shame because I think their dynamic is cute). They had a chapter together in the manga anthology too! I’m glad they could hang out some more.

A Tale as Old as Time.

The princess and her prince were picture perfect in the painting.

The woman, with golden curls that tumbled down her back. Her cerulean gown spilled to the polished floors like a fabric waterfall, the tiara in her hair catching the soft evening light. She gazed up at her lover's warm, twinkling eyes, and smiled.

The man, brunette, locks falling loosely across his forehead. He was handsome in a red tunic with a high black collar, a crimson cape billowing out behind him with each step he took. His gaze was locked with the princess's, his one and only.

Onlookers gathered in a ring around the two, spellbound by how they danced, bodies twinning like threads bound together. It was something precious they dared not disturb, even their breaths clutched like pearls to prevent their escape.

This was happily ever after, a dream come true.

It should have been.

Yet Malleus frowned. His brows drew together and his mouth pursed, a brewing storm settling over his face.

“Draconia-senpai?” Deuce called to him anxiously. “I-Is something wrong? You look a little scary…”

The first year glanced at the portrait of the royal couple. He jumped. “D-Don’t tell me, did this painting piss you off?! Er, I mean... Did it offend you?"

“No, nothing of the sort,” Malleus replied. He rested an index finger against his chin. “It sparked memories of my own days in court. As the crown prince to the Briar Valley, it goes without saying that I've attended a number of occasions similar to what is depicted here."

"Oh, for real? That makes sense, you being royalty and all. What were those events like?"

"Most are rather solemn affairs. Grandmother, the senators, and other politicians gather to discuss diplomacy, trade, and national policies. For certain occasions, there are traditional rituals that must first be performed. A royal birth, for example, must be blessed before the festivities can commence. If it is a knighting, then all the royal guard shall be present and a speech of one's accomplishments read."

Deuce blinked a few times, as though shedding sleepiness. His mind struggled to grasp the enormity of a prince's duties. He dropped the smartest sounding response he could: "That sounds tough."

Malleus lips slightly lifted. "I do not mind it. There is pride to be had in conducting such work."

I don't have a reason to doubt what he's saying, but... Deuce clenched his fists at his sides. If Draconia-senpai really feels that way, why does he still seem so pained?

The fairy drew out a sigh, as if dissatisfied with the silence. "... Ah, but how strange. When I look upon this painting, I see many people present... yet the princess touched by diurnal fae and her prince take no notice of them. They have eyes only for each other."

His words were velvet-lined, soft on the ears. Beneath them, a pang of longing rose like a fine mist at daybreak.

"What must it feel like to be so beloved?" Malleus wondered. "To have someone who considers you the most special being in all the world?"

Vines twisted in his gut, thorns prickling his insides. Frustration and molten discontent pooled. For all the power that he wielded, he failed to attain such a basic thing.

Love.

"Do you understand such a feeling, Spade?" The inquiry was pure acid.

"H-Huh, me?!" Deuce startled, not prepared for the demand in Malleus's voice. "Well... uh, I guess my mom calls me her big, strong man. Does that count?"

Malleus's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid I don't follow. Is it customary for children of man to refer to their offspring as 'big, strong men'?"

"I think that's just my mom's thing." He shrugged. "I'm the only man in the house, so I try to help her out if I can. She jokes about it when I do."

Malleus made a face. It was difficult to discern the emotion he wore.

"Moms, right?" Deuce gave a nervous laugh. "They can be embarrassing, but they care about us a lot."

"I never knew my mother."

"... Oh." A rock dropped in Deuce's stomach. He hurried for an apology as dread rippled through him. "Shit, my bad! I didn't mean to..."

Malleus held up a hand in an elegant dismissal. "Be at ease. I harbor no anger."

There was no point, he told himself, in rage expressed for a woman he had no bond with. Her face, her voice--they were all a mystery to him. She was but a stranger adrift in an abyss.

Still, a part of him sparked at the thought of her, of someone he had yet to meet--would never meet. The thrill of fates closely intertwined, the tenderness of a parent's love.

Malleus went quiet, lowering his hand.

"Grandmother and Lilia have done their utmost to mentor me in her stead." He sounded hollow, insistent. Like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Deuce.

The Heartslabyul student swallowed. He placed a firm hand on Malleus's arm and squeezed. "... It's not enough, is it?"

He received no answer.

“Your mom is thinking of you, wherever she is.”

Malleus pulled away, presenting his back to Deuce. "Dead fae do not tell tales," he said simply.

“That doesn’t mean she loved you any less,” Deuce stubbornly protested. “Right up until her last breath… she must have been so happy to have you, thinking about what kind of person you’d grow up to be.”

Dreaming of the day when she can, at last, meet you.

Blink, and his eyes were wet. Blink again, and his vision blurred. Heartbeat hot and quick, galloping upon coals.

Did my mother truly…?

“She’d be damn proud of you too.” Deuce flashed a wicked grin. “Believe me.”

“… Hah.” Malleus chuckled dryly.

The longer he considered it, the more appealing the idea became.

A woman in his likeness—or was he made in hers? Papery kisses, fond embraces, words of affirmation. Fire that burned strongly, warding off the darkness.

Wouldn’t that be something?

"I love you, Malleus," whispered that she-phantom. Sweet nothings that sated his starved soul. "Forever and always. My dear son, my pride and joy."

The carefully constructed stone fortress around his heart faltered. His desire burned like a falling star.

He took a breath, and fell from the heavens with his wish.

“Thank you, Spade.”

Just for this moment, let me walk once upon a dream.

A single tear slipped down Malleus’s cheek.

And what a wonderful dream it was.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty

It’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m engaged in the hideous task of fitting on my school uniform when he texts me. My phone is laying on my desk, and it vibrates so loudly that I’m startled. I reach for it, and when I see his message flashing on the screen my heart instantly jumps to my throat. I have to sit down on the bed to open it, hands shaking and fingers fumbling on the buttons in my desperation to see what he’s said, and it’s a simple message: 

Having a goodbye thing tonight at my house. Will you come?

A little laugh escapes my mouth. He never says “Can you?/If you wouldn’t mind.” Or “If you want to, feel free.” It’s always a very demanding “Will you.” Like he’s imploring me, like he’s framing it as a suggestion when it really isn’t one. I leave the message open on my lap for several minutes before I start typing something. 

Nice to hear from you! That sounds so fun!

I sit for ages with thumbs hovering over the keyboard, and then I decide that it sounds too perky. I delete it and write something much cooler, something that sounds more like I haven’t been thinking that much about him lately, and this is, like, an afterthought. 

Okay. What time?

He immediately replies and says seven o’clock, and then tells me where he lives, which I somehow didn’t anticipate would be a Dublin postcode. 

Look, I know you’re in Offaly, obviously. 

He adds on to the end of his message. 

So you’re welcome to stay over if you need to. There’s a few people crashing here. 

I tell him that I’ll be there in a very cool way, even though I don’t know how I’m going to manage it. I’m determined to find a way nonetheless, so I immediately open up my laptop and start googling routes to Dublin. I know there’s a bus that goes every hour, and it will take me an hour and a half to get to the city, and then another half an hour to get a city bus to his house. I check the clock, it’s quarter past three, and if I get the one at five I should be there for seven…

I jump up and start pacing back and forth, trying to figure out how I’m going to do it, but the sight of myself in the mirror in my horrible uniform distracts me from the maths. I look about twelve years old. I take it off and toss it on the floor, then rifle around through the mess of clothes piled on the rug to retrieve my favourite jeans and a red top that someone told me suited me once. I snatch my makeup bag and plonk cross legged in front of the mirror and stay there prodding brushes at my face until I think I look presentable enough. After that I take some pyjamas and clean socks and underwear out of my drawers and shove them into a bag. 

“Mam,” I say as I come thundering down the stairs and into the kitchen where she’s cleaning the sink. “I’ve been invited to a party tonight, is it okay if I go?”

She turns around and puts her hands on her hips. “Whose party is it?”

“Someone I met on holidays.”

“Hm. And it wouldn’t be that young fella who upset you, would it?”

I groan. “No mam, obviously not.” I regret telling her about Jude, but I had no choice but to explain why I was borderline hysterical when I came home last week. It had actually seemed like a good idea, and she was relatively supportive in so much as the ways she’s capable of being, but now I wish I’d made something up instead. “It’s my friend Jen’s birthday, she invited me to her house.”

“Where’s she living?”

“In Dublin.”

“Dublin?”

“Yes, mam.”

“And how do you expect you’ll be getting to Dublin?”

“I thought I’d get the bus.”

She turns around to resume her assault on the sink with a brillo pad and shakes her head, very clearly not pleased with me. “I don’t want you going up to Dublin on your own, Evie.”

“Why not?”

“Because by the time you get up there it’ll be the evening.”

“Yeah because the party is in the evening.”

“And you’ll be coming home in the dead of night, will you?”

“No, she invited me to stay over.”

I can tell she really doesn’t like the sound of that. “And who is this Jen girl anyway?”

“Mam, I told you. She’s my friend from the holiday.”

“Maybe I should ring her parents before I let you do anything of the sort.”

Oh God. “Don’t do that, that’s so embarrassing.”

She whirls on me again, firing the brillo pad into the sink. “Well, love, I don’t know anything about this Jen character, she lives somewhere in Dublin, and she wants you to stay the night? How do I know you won’t be up to all sorts?”

By ‘All sorts’ she means hard drugs and unprotected sex. “We won’t. We’ll probably watch a film and make hot chocolates.”

“And aren’t you supposed to be going out to see Claire and Shane off to the debs this evening?”

“Yeah but I’ll tell her there’s been a change of plans, it’ll be fine.” There’s a long pause, and I feel my shoulders slump, knowing that I’ll have to somehow meet my mother halfway if there’s to be a chance of me going to Jude’s house tonight. “I’ll give you the address of the house.” I concede. “I honestly don’t have a phone number, but I’ll text you when I get there, and then again when I’m coming home tomorrow.”

“And you’ll text me before you go to bed too.” She warns. “I don’t want to be losing sleep worrying about whether you are where you say you are.”

“I’ll be at her house, I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Her lips are a tight, hard line. “Fine. But there’s to be no messing, if I find out about any… hanky panky, you’re in serious trouble.”

“Yes mam.” I take a pen out of the junk drawer and scribble the address on a post-it. She takes it from me and gives it an intensive examination. 

“Well la-di-da.” She says with raised eyebrows. “Clontarf. Isn’t that very posh.”

“Is it?” I don’t know anything about Dublin postcodes, nor have I ever been to Clontarf, but to my meat-and-two-veg mother, who was brought up in the two bedroom ex-council house that we still live in today, virtually everything constitutes posh. Our neighbour has started walking around the estate with his jumper tied around his shoulders and she can’t get over it. “There’s Jerry on his way to the country club again.” She always remarks, even though he’s definitely just going down to the deli for a sausage roll.

“I’m putting this on the fridge.” She declares, prodding the post-it. “And if I don’t hear from you when you get off the bus, and at least once during the evening I’m going to send your dad straight up to look for you, and then you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Okay.”

“And if there’s a whiff of anything Evelyn… If there’s any boys staying over…”

“There won’t be.”

“So off you go then.”

“Thanks mam.”

Prev // Next

[erdogan-nevra]

Left Behind

Date: March 16th and beyond

Locations: London, Porto

Medea was silent in the chair next to her. Or as next to her as she could be as they were in separate pods across the aisle. She doubted the woman wanted to talk but even if she did, it would have been drowned out by the constant thrum of the airplane.

Nevra had never demanded anything from the Rutherfords in the entirety of her employment. They likely would have given her whatever she asked for, within reason, but she had never taken advantage of that. Advantage of their generosity and what giving it to people meant. Most would mistake it for loyalty or comradeship. A chance to tell the people who worked for them that they cared when really it was a chance to show the rest of the world how much fucking money they had. 

Fine, let them throw it around. The eleven hour flight would be more bearable in first class. 

~

“Wait, I’m coming. Wait, wait!” The knock had been soft at first but grew the longer she took to disentangle herself from her blanket cocoon on the couch. The hallways of her little cottage was already narrow and when Sabir zigged the same time she did, Nevra found her knees slamming to the carpet. She shook her head and nudged the dog away, talking loudly before she even opened the door. 

“I didn’t think you’d come thi-”

Ayaz. Not who she’d expected to see but Nevra smiled nonetheless. Maybe he’d remembered her birthday as well and was bored enough to come wish her so in person. She crossed her arms and put on a small pout. 

“I hope my present is hiding somewhere in your coat because I don’t see one and I’ll be honest, if you didn’t get me anything, I might just cry.”

It took her three more beats to understand that he wasn’t there to wish her a happy birthday. 

What was that look on his face? 

“Ayaz?”

“Nev, let’s go inside.” 

She didn’t know why but her heart started racing as he put a hand on her back and shut the door behind them. 

~

We will be landing in Porto Velho in twenty minutes. Please have your arrival card and any items to declare ready and in hand.  

She could feel Medea’s side eye and decided to ignore it. Neither were traveling as their namesake and both had only a carry on. A few changes of clothes was all that was needed for this trip. 

The plane rolled into port with a soft bump. Nevra was on her feet in seconds. 

“Easy there.” Medea’s voice snaked through her consciousness, squeezing uncomfortably, suffocating her with its very presence. 

Ayaz had suggested the woman come with her and when Nevra had told him she didn’t need a babysitter, he shrugged. Yet her arrival at Heathrow and the sight of his ex-wife told Nevra enough. They didn’t trust her, not right now. Not with-

Nevra smiled at the customs worker. When they’d gotten off the plane and ended up here was beyond her. Everything blurred together now. “No, nothing to declare. Just here for a business trip.” Her face remained calm and inviting. Learning to play different parts had been one of the main skills she’d learned as an assassin. She’d never imagined she’d be using it in her daily life just to reassure people she wasn’t going to throw herself off a bridge. 

Medea was next to her again. The Turk could feel her resisting the urge to take her elbow and guide her to the car that was waiting outside. Both women knew what would happen if she touched Nevra. She’d practically bit her head off at Heathrow to prove it. So unlike her. Then again, none of her actions had been like her the past few days. 

What would he think of it all?

~

“Nevra, did you hear what I said?”

Dead. 

Dead. 

Dead.

The snap of fingers echoed in the air. 

The person she’d chosen to love was dead. 

The person who had chosen to love her was dead. 

He was dead. 

Fingers wrapped around her wrists, pressure building each moment she kept silent. 

She had always been the one to leave when things came down to it. Her community, her friends, her fiancé. Nevra always made the choice. It never made it any easier but she had always been in control of who entered and left her life. That way she always knew who to blame when those horrible days eventually showed their faces. 

Who could she blame for this? 

Not herself. 

The drug dealer? Absolutely.

The women and men who joined him for god knows how long until he’d been the unfortunate victim of a bad batch? Sure.

Kerem and his anger, his unfuckingreasonable anger toward their situation? If she tried hard enough. 

Not herself though. 

But Berat…

“Nevra, come back.”

No, she would never, could never blame him. She had chosen him and she wouldn’t blame that person. Even if-

So now she was the one left behind and god did it fucking suck. A harsh laugh escaped her lips. She finally noticed Ayaz and saw the look of concern at her outburst.

~

Blood splattered her face as the assassin pulled the trigger of the gun resting at the base of the man’s skull. It was messier than normal but he hadn’t come quietly and she was pissed off enough not to care. Medea on the other hand looked less than pleased. Blood also splattered the toes of her shoes. She took one look at Nevra’s blood covered face and audibly exhaled through her nose. 

“At least you used a silencer.” She could barely hear the words over the roaring in her head and the sounds of passing cars on the street at the end of the alley.

A burner phone appeared in the older woman’s hand. A quick picture and a moment before confirmation before she tossed it into a barrel, followed by a lit match. A tiny part of Nevra wanted to burn the dead man as well but that wasn’t the job. This job was finished. 

She took out her own phone and pressed the name at the top. Three rings before it picked up. Time difference, right. He wouldn’t care though, not really. 

“Another one.” 

Ayaz sighed on the other line and he kept silent for a moment, no doubt debating how long he should indulge her desire to lose herself. 

“There’s a woman in Launceston…”

~

“You’re sure? No possibility you’re wrong?” Her throat felt like she’d eaten a handful of gravel. She felt her hands begin to shake in Ayaz’s grip. A shake of his head and a slight bow but he never averted her eyes. Never severed that last tether of support she needed. 

Nevra looked toward the front door and slowly allowed the realization that Berat would never walk through it again to wash over her. How was she supposed to get through everything without him? 

They’d talked for hours and nights on end of how it had been so simple to choose each other. How, once they’d said screw it and thrown caution to the wind, life had been so much happier. Their happiness had been a choice, her choice. 

This was not her choice. 

This is what it felt like to be left behind. 

If he was going to leave her behind, then she was going to leave everyone else behind too.

“Give me a job.” 

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t said in anger or sadness or despair. It wasn’t a want but a need.

It looked like he was going to refuse her so she shook her head. No, don’t stop me.

“Give me a job.” 

~

The second plane was just as comfortable as the first had been. First class again, only this time Medea had done something unexpected. She’d bought out the entire first class. Nevra knew she was standing at the back of the area talking to the hostesses. She didn’t care what she was telling them. No one bothered her though. 

As the woman settled in the back, the Turk settled in the front. Maybe her babysitter had gone through what Nevra was going through. Maybe she expected her to use the privacy to break down and cry or throw a tantrum or let all hell loose. Nevra intended on refraining from each one of those things. 

If she was going to cry it would be on her own terms. Her grief would be her choice. Everything from here on out would be controlled by her because fuck this feeling. A better person would have taken the opportunity to understand, this was how she’d made other people in her life feel. Before, she would have been that better person. 

Now she wasn’t and didn’t care to be. 

Berat Yalaz would be the last person who would make a choice for her and the last person to leave her behind. 

The thought made her sigh.

[lemontreefantasy]

Sails and Anchors - Part 3

​Sails and Anchors - Part 3 

genre: smut, angst

warnings: some filthy and degrading scenes, possessive! hongjoong, gunshots

wc: 2.6k

taglist: @stayoffmybyunsworld @kirooz @nora-shhh @iveivory @licorne-manon @n0v4t33z​

if you would like to be on a permanent taglist for anything I write or for this series in particular, you can message me and specify what you would like to be tagged in!

also, please PLEASE remember to reblog my work if you enjoyed it! (it’s free)

this is a continuation of Part 2 - Batten Down the Hatches

Part 3 - A Broken Reconciliation

You sat silently in your study looking at hongjoong, your mind blank as to how you should respond to him. But then you remember. You remember the emotional rollercoaster he put you on. Every day you would wake up and look around to see if he would appear out of the crowd of people, look to see if you would see that black, wide-brim hat or that cheeky smile. But after months of waiting, you never saw it. You were like a child on their birthday, except your present never came. You waited and waited and he never showed. You felt empty. You felt angry. Angry because you were so naïve to believe in a man for that long. Angry because you accepted that kind of treatment when there were men like Seonghwa and San who were ready to sweep you off your feet and escape with you at a moment’s notice, yet you still longed for hongjoong to return in some romantic manner.

“Do you know what I went through these past few months?” you stood up and looked down at him.

He said nothing while tilting his head up, holding your gaze.

“You know that I waited for you, right? All these months I waited to see when you return… if you would even return. One month, two, four, six months went by. How long was I supposed to wait? I would sit right here in this very room and sob, hoping that one day you would come back and hold me in your arms.”

“I’m so sorry darling“ he walks up to you, cupping your face in his hands.

“Don’t. You’re not sorry. Did you really expect my eyes to not wander?” you say ripping yourself from his grasp, “It seems like everyone in this town makes me a priority besides you. And yes, I have made a few friends. Maybe I’ve even fucked them because you weren’t here to give me what I want. Those ‘friends’ that showed me what real commitment to a partner is like, all of the things that I was missing out on.”

Hongjoong’s blood started boiling at the thought of someone else having their way with you. Everything you said after that went in one ear and out the other. His thoughts were flooded by what could have possibly taken place while he was gone, who touched you, who kissed you. To him, you were his private property. If anyone hurt you, he would slit their throat in the middle of the night no questions asked. And now that he learned of others impeding on his prized possession, it did not sit well with him.

He gripped your waist, shoving you into the wooden desk behind you, “Who. Tell me who. Who is it,” he demanded. You see him reach for something out of his waistband and suddenly feel a cold metal press against the bottom of your chin.

“Tell me darling.”

“It’s none of your fucking business now,” you grumble even though you know you’re on thin ice with him.

“I bet it was fucking twinkle toes was it. I saw the way held on to you. Like a needy dog. Or was it Mr Prince Charming?” he says twisting the barrel into your flesh “Was it him darling?” He chuckles and his expression changes and you’re oddly uncomfortable with his tone. “Tell me, was he the one? You know that son of a bitch used to work for me, right?”

What?

“W-Work for you?” you managed to stammer out.

“Yes, my love. He was actually… an old friend of mine… a good friend,” he says as his grip on your throat slackens.

“What h-happened between the both of you?” you ask carefully as to not upset him further.

“He was too ambitious. I kicked him off the ship. Now tell me, was it him? Was he the one that touched you while I was gone?” To be honest, you were hesitant to answer. The last thing you wanted was to compromise his safety.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise. I’ll just resist the urge to stab him in the chest if I ever see him again.”

You slowly nodded and hongjoong chuckled. Walking to the other side of the room he mumbled to himself, “I should’ve killed that fucker when I had the chance.”

“At least he was man enough to not disappear on me during the night.”

Hongjoong froze. He couldn’t believe the words that just left your lips. He felt his temple twitch and the devil’s rage seemed to fly to his head. There was no other way to put it. He was mad. He slowly turned towards you and looked you dead in the eyes.

“What did you just say to me?” he asked, eyes squinting at the mere sentence while he walked towards you.

“You heard what I said. Don’t act like all that sea water makes you deaf,” you retorted. You knew it was a dangerous game you started but you loved seeing him riled up like this. This newfound feeling of rage fueled by jealousy seemed to excite you.

Hongjoong was never excessively rough with you, not until now. He grabbed you by the fabric of your dress and shoved you against the said table once more.

“Did you forget about what also happened that night? Or do I need to show you again?” he says, ripping your dress at the seams, leaving your bare body exposed to the night’s cold.

He held you by your waist and turned you around, bending you over the table. You hear the faint noise of his belt buckle being undone as he yanks you by your hair to whisper to you,

“I guess I have to remind you of what you were craving for so long.”

And with that, you feel his hardened member grazing against your folds until you feel a hand shift to your panties, sliding them to the side. Your back arches at the sensation as you desperately try to cling to the old wooden desk. With one hand gripping your hair and the other on your back, hongjoong creates a rhythm in which he drives his shaft into you. You can’t help but cry out as you feel him against your clit, walls clenching around him.

“That’s right. Let him hear how good I can fuck you,” hongjoong whispers as he continues his ministrations. The room is filled with your moans and cries and the sound of skin slapping. Hongjoong grabbed you by your hair and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in a large glass artifact at the corner of the room. The view alone could make you cream yourself, seeing him behind you with messy hair, chest heaving.

Your knees begin to give way and your breath becomes unsteady as you feel your release approaching. You can’t gather your senses to say anything but hongjoong can feel you tighten around him as he quickens his pace. Seeing you like this, bent over just for him turned on a primal instinct that he unleashed on you as he continues his pace.

“I’ll fucking fill you up darling. Go back to him with your cunt full of my seed I dare you,” he growled.

As much as you hated how he reminded you of seonghwa, you loved that he made you feel like such a slut. He knew exactly what to do to hit that sweet spot of yours and he made sure to attack with relentless force. This is what you wanted. This is what you needed for so long. Hongjoong manhandling you was the leash that he had you on. The yoke that he knew he could control. After emptying himself inside you he spun you around, leaned over your body and grabbed your throat as he sucked on your bottom lip.

He heists you up onto the desk and pushes you down to lie flat on your back. Lowering himself, he gently sucks on your clit while sneaking a finger into you. Your moans were like music to his ears. It was exactly what he needed to egg him on. You missed feeling his tongue against you while his hands pushed your legs apart. You tangle your fingers in his hair and he can tell you’re close from the way your breathing changes.

He sits up and slowly eases himself into you once more until he finds his rhythm again and quickens his pace. He holds on to your legs as leverage to pound himself deeper into you. The oh so familiar sound of skin slapping and breathy moans fill the air and you find hongjoong spreading you wide open. He spilled his seed in you with no regret and left you spread on the desk, pulling his pants up, buckling his belt. He turned away from you and you lay there feeling his release leaking down your legs. You felt used but hated the fact that you liked it because this was the most attention you had gotten from him in a very long time.

You sat up and looked at him. You couldn’t quite tell what the expression on his face meant but it almost looked as if he was ashamed of what he had just done. He paced around the study rubbing his forehead, pushing his hair out of his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I- I don’t know. I’m sorry… I should go.”

And with that, he disappeared again. You weren’t surprised you had to admit that you felt disappointed, alone and the sadness you once felt months ago began to fester in your heart once more.

~

A few days had passed and even though your love life was in a bit of a pickle, you still had a business to run. The week was neither slow nor busy and nothing too peculiar happened, which was a relief on your end. That was until a fairly matured woman came into the pub looking for you. Her appearance was striking and you could tell that she wasn’t from town. She wore a polka-dotted black and white dress that flowed to her knees. She wore black heels and has a small parasol along with a small black purse. Her hair was short but done up in fancy waves and you noticed her sharp facial features.

“My dear, is there any way I can speak to you in private?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but, do I know you?” you replied.

“Apologies,” she whispers, “I was a friend of your father’s. Please, I must speak to you away from prying ears.”

Her statement takes you aback. You weren’t about to just take a random woman that you just met up into your private study but if it’s true that she knew your father you couldn’t deny her request. You lead her upstairs and offer her some tea but she politely declines.

What she explains to you absolutely baffles your mind. You sit there listening to the words that come out of her wrinkled mouth and you have so many questions yet so many answers revealed. Your mind buzzes and the information suddenly becomes too much for you to handle. Your father, who’s death seems to haunt you ever so often, has once again resurfaced in your life even though he is longer alive. This time, in the form of a secret trust fund with millions of dollars. His private fortune dedicated to you after he had

passed which this woman, Mrs. Farley, had been managing on his behalf. She was given instructions by your father to give you access to the money after he had passed and after the legal paperwork was completed, it was now time for you to access your inheritance. This would now make you one of the youngest, richest women in the city.

“You were very special to him. He’s never told you about this?” she asks.

“No… he’s never mentioned anything of this nature to me.” you retort.

“Well, I understand this might come as a pleasant surprise to you. Don’t let it confuse you too much. If you have any questions, you can always contact me,” she says, handing you her card with her name and address.

And so, upon signing a few documents, you were officially a millionaire.

~

At the end of the week, you were in your study making a plan of what you should probably do with some of the money. Renovations to the bar, importing different alcohols, purchasing a house so you don’t have to be cramped in your small room upstairs the business… That was when you heard a knock on the door, your barmaid claiming the captain had asked for you.

You came downstairs and took him aside to a table, pouring him a drink. You both spoke in a low tone to not inform others of your inherent relations.

“I really want to apologize for leaving you that night. I came to explain the truth and my temper took hold of me. Please… tell me you’re not with him. I can’t bear to see you with anyone else.”

If you weren’t in the proximity of others, he would have held your hand in his.

“I don’t care if its twinkle toes, just not him,” he says.

“You’re bold to come in my establishment to tell me who I should and shouldn’t drop my knickers for, you know that?” you spat.

A long pause followed as he lets out an exhausted exhale and looks to the floor after gripping his drink and taking a swig.

“I love you. I will always love you… and only you. I don’t care what you think of me. I’m your dog. I’d do anything you tell me to. You know that,” he says in a calm voice, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I love you as well, captain. But you hurt my heart too much. I can’t keep up with you. Every time i give my heart to you, I always end up having to piece myself back together afterwards. It’s exhausting. Love is not supposed to be exhausting.”

“Please, stay away from him. For my sake. Seonghwa is not the man he portrays himself to be. I’ve worked with him before; I know what he is like. Don’t fall for his charm.”

Just then, there was a loud BANG of the pub doors being pushed open, with no other than seonghwa and his soldiers barging through the bar.

“Over there!” one of his men shout. Guns now cocked towards the table at which you and hongjoong sat.

In a fury, hongjoong draws his gun and fires a shot, causing a distraction so that everyone dives to the floor. In a split second, you look up only to realize that, like the wind, he was gone again… right out of the second pair of pub doors.

Seonghwa rushes towards you, “darling, are you alright?” he asks, holding you in his arms. You look up at him, eyes wide from shock. “Do you know that man?” he’s wanted for the stunt that was pulled at the ball the other day.”

You don’t know whether or not you should tell seonghwa the truth. Your mind went blank at that very moment the gunshots fired. If you tell seonghwa, they might have you killed for conspiring with a man like hongjoong. Hell, hongjoong might even slaughter you first if your shared little dirty secret got out. But what if seonghwa finds out and accuses you of being a filthy liar the entire time you’ve known him? You didn’t want to betray either man so you had to play your cards well. Not for your sake, but for the sake of your business and your reputation.

to be continued...

[theshelbyclan]

Happy Birthday!

Summary: It’s your birthday! And the Shelby brothers refuse to let another one of their baby sister’s birthday go by without some proper celebrating. 

(Gif by @benson-shelby​)  A/N: It’s actually my birthday today, but due to quarantine I can’t really celebrate it with anyone. So I decided to celebrate with the Shelby’s! Via this little fic, purely self-indulgent, to cheer myself up and to remember some great birthdays I had in the past ;) Set in season 1, you’re just a few years younger than John. Words: 1710 *** “John, get her tea.” “I thought you had the tea.” “Well, then get the milk!” urgent whispers sounded in the hallway. 

“I’m not your bloody maid, am I, Ada,” John spat not so quietly in return.

You were lying in bed, awake for hours already. This was the day you’d become a woman, or so Ada had said, but still, your siblings were bickering like little children. It brought a smile to your face. Another annoyed grumble, “Shhh, you’re going to wake her up!” “Am not,” he hissed, “I got your fucking milk, didn’t I!” “Oi!” another low voice joined in, “Ada, you really need to take a look at the toast.” “What about the toast, Arthur?” “Burned it,” he mumbled and you could hear John giggle softly in the dark. Ada sighed deeply, “For fucks sake, fine, I’ll do it. Wait here.” As the least subtle brothers in the world shuffled about in the hallway, you thought of your other birthdays. When you were little, they were celebrated with mum and everyone gathered. During the war, no one paid attention to birthdays any longer. And now, after the war, people tried to get their lives back on track. Only last week you’d made sure Finn had gotten a birthday he’d never forget. And now they tried to return the favour, obviously. Another few minutes and about a thousands curses passed, when they finally tiptoed into the room. Closing your eyes, you decided to play along. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Slowly you sat up and put on a groggy voice, “What are you doing in here?” “You are the worst actor ever, Y/N,” John grinned. “Am I?” you feigned innocence. Ada handed you a cup of tea as John plopped down onto bed next to you, “Did you hear about Arthur burning the toast then?” “I didn’t burn it,” he protested, “Only… blackened it a little.” Ada sent her eldest brother a look, “Polly’s making some more.” “Thanks for the tea,” you smiled and took a sip. Frowning, you narrowed your eyes at John. “You’re not a child anymore, Y/N!” he explained happily. “Move over,” Arthur shoved his brother aside and hugged you, “Happy birthday, sweetheart. This is for you, go on, open it.” Wrapped clumsily in some brown paper, he’d given you a revolver. And just as you were staring at it, Aunt Polly walked in with toast in a lovely shade of light brown. “A gun,” she demanded at once, “For fucks sake, Arthur.” “She needs it to protect herself, Pol,” he returned, and with pride in his voice he added, “And look: it’s a lady’s gun!” You turned the weapon over and saw it was small, delicate and laid in. Still, deadly as any weapon it was. “My turn,” John said, bouncing up and down in excitement almost. He handed Polly your tea and when she sniffed it, she said strictly, “Alright, who put whiskey in her morning tea?” No one answered. Quickly John handed you his present, hardly wrapped at all. Inside, you found a peaky cap, razorblades included. “Honestly, John…” Ada sighed, “She’s not a bloody Blinder!” “It’s all she’s ever wanted!” John called out, “Ever since she could walk, she tried to steal our caps, forever talking about wanting to join us wherever we went. Now she’s got her own!” “I love it,” you beamed up at him, “All I ever wanted.” “Alright,” Ada interrupted, “Clearly Y/N has too many brothers so it’s up to me to turn her into a lady.” “Please do,” Polly sighed, “Or the only interest she’ll ever have is weapons.” She knew her niece well, “That and gambling…” Your sister combed a few rebellious strands of hair behind your ear and planted a kiss on your cheek, “My darling little sister, soon you’ll learn you have more than one way of getting a man to do what you want.” You blinked a few times. This had always been more of Ada’s area of expertise. “She has no idea what you’re on about,” Polly smirked. “Thank God,” Arthur and John said in unison. “Sit still,” Ada demanded and she started applying the lipstick, “Sit. Still.” You furrowed your brows at the unfamiliar feeling, “Just your colour,” Ada commented happily, “As I thought.” “Not bad, that,” Arthur commented as he tilted his head. John leaned back and examined you as well, “Yeah, well, it’s red, isn’t it? I like red...” “Lipstick, a gun and razors,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, “the most deadly Shelby as of yet, Pol!” Aunt Polly rolled her eyes. “Happy birthday, Y/N!” eleven-year-old Finn came running to the room and jumped up into your arms, “You can have mine!” And he thrust his homemade catapult into your hands by form of a gift. “Another weapon, Pol,” Arthur eyed her, “Whatever will become of our innocent little sister?” Aunt Polly rubbed her nose and stammered a little, “Well, you know I don’t agree with you joining the family business… And God knows I’ve tried to rein you in just a little…” “But,” you interrupted, eyes glittering mischievously. “But…” she looked down, “I got you something for your shoes.” “Shoes?” you looked at the little black package she’d handed you. John suddenly burst out laughing in realisation, Arthur tried to hide his face in his hands and Ada commented dryly, “So, no better than us, eh, Pol.” Slowly you opened the package. Inside, you found a small black butterfly knife. *** A few hours had passed, with the regular nonsense that you cherished more than anything in the world. The family was gathered in the kitchen, everyone argued and life seemed perfect. But, one thing was missing. “Where’s Tommy?” you finally asked. “He had business,” Polly answered shortly, “No idea when he’ll be back.” You eyed John carefully, the brother you always turned to, “You think he forgot?” “Nah,” he tried cheering you up, “And you’re doing alright with us, right? Don’t need grumpy here…” You smiled, but still it hurt a little. And then, unexpectedly, Tommy waltzed into the house like it was any other day. “Y/N,” he announced himself coldly, “I need you to come with me.” “Why?” you challenged, “We’re just celebra-“ “I said now, Y/N. Family business.” Tommy interrupted in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly started, but he held up a hand to silence her. Then he turned to you and repeated, “Come with me.” Begrudgingly, you got up and followed your brother. Looking back, Arthur motioned you to move it, which made you all the more suspicious. Without moving a muscle in his face, Tommy opened the door and said, “Go on.” You stepped outside and the second you did, applause resounded through the streets. In front of every house, people had gathered and they cheered like you were royalty. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “Tommy, did you…” you started. “He’s been at it all morning,” John explained as he crossed you in the doorway. A few moments later, the sound of hooves echoed in the streets. “What the hell is this,” you said at once. “This,” Tommy made a broad hand gesture, “Is a gypsy on a horse.” “And what, pray tell, is he doing in the middle of town?” You recognised Johnny Dogs now, who called out, “Little Y/N Shelby! Happy birthday, love!  How the hell are you!” “I’m grand, Johnny,” you said numbly, “What’s with the horse?” He got off the horse and patted her flank, “She was a lovely filly as first. Sweet, but could never quite be tamed. Third filly out of Shadow, gorgeous beast.” “So, we decided,” Tommy mumbled as he lit a cigarette slowly, “she needed a rider who’d understand.” “What? Being a gorgeous beast?” your cynical reply came. Tommy rolled his eyes, “ ‘could never be tamed’ “. “Well, go on,” Johnny urged, smiling from ear to ear, “Up you get, little one!” Gingerly, you walked over to the horse. As you stroked her nose, Tommy handed you his cigarette and said softly, “What do you think of her?” “She’s an absolute beauty.” Tommy nodded, “Just like you,” but before you could send him a thankful look, he’d walked off again. And with the whole of Small Heath watching on, you climbed up on the horse. *** It was almost midnight when you woke up on a hard cold bench. A splitting headache washed over you as you tried to lift your head. You touched your temple and noticed some blood on your knuckles. Vaguely, you remembered being in the Garrison only a few hours before. You remembered Tommy had closed the betting den and the pub being packed with people, all celebrating your birthday. Memories of card games, songs and laughs came back to you. And the whiskey, so much whiskey. Slowly, you hoisted yourself up. As you looked around, you recognised the inside of the police cell. And you felt at your laced up boots: the knife was still safe inside. A sigh of relief escaped you. “How’s the head, eh?” Recognising your brother’s voice, you looked up without meeting his eye. “What did I do?” you asked finally. After a pause, Tommy replied, “Well, you celebrated your birthday alright.” “Did I have fun?” “Yes, I’d say so.” You frowned, “Why am I in here?” He cleared his throat, “It started with the barmaid and ended with you head-butting a policeman. Quite the Shelby night…” “Is that pride I hear?” Tommy didn’t answer, so you send him your best innocent smile. Eventually he asked, “Was it worth it?” “Hell yes,” you replied in a flash. “Little devil, celebrating her fucking birthday, eh?” “Admit it!” you pointed at him, “you areproud!”

And Thomas Shelby actually smiled through the bars, “Fucking right I am.” When he started to walk away, you shouted, “Oi! What about my bail?” “Paid it!” he called from a distance. “How am I supposed to get home?” you raised your voice even more. Tommy’s reply echoed, “Take your horse. She’s outside.” Myhorse? And just as a policeman with a head in bandages opened the door of your cell, you smiled to yourself: Best birthday ever.

Tommy left the station before you were released, but before he’d gone, he finally said:  

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

[sequinsmile-x]

Drunk on You

In which Emily and Aaron get caught in a compromising position.

-x-

This fic is a birthday present for the incomparable @carrotskoalasandbooze. Becoming your friend has genuinely been one of the best things that has ever happened to me. You're insanely smart, talented and without a doubt one of the best people I know. Thank you for being on my board of executives, and thank you for being my friend. I love you, and because of that I'll forgive you for forcing me to learn math in my old age.

-x-

Warning: Rated teen, some mention of drinking, implied sexual content, cursing. Nothing you wouldn't see in a PG-13 movie.

Words: 4.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Like always, the night out was Penelope’s idea. As much as she was enjoying herself, Emily would much rather be somewhere alone with her boyfriend. She needed him to sooth the burn the case they had just got back from had left in her lungs. His embrace was the only place she would find any kind of relief, any peace from the recent brutality of their working schedule.

Emily is standing at the bar, waiting for the bartender to pull together the round of drinks she ordered, when she feels a familiar hand settle at her lower back. She knows it’s him without turning around, his touch gentle yet commanding, his cologne almost overpowering as he leans down to press his lips against her ear, clearly using how loud and busy it was in the bar as an excuse to be this close to her. A half lie ready to tell one of their team members if they happened to look over and see him pressed up against her. She turns her head a little to look at him, her lips so close to his she could reach forward and kiss him if she wants to.

She really wants to, but knows she can’t.

“You’re playing a dangerous game.” She says, smirking at him as his fingers trail under her shirt a little, a glancing touch at the skin of her lower back before he withdraws it.

“I’m just seeing if you need help with the drinks, Prentiss.” Aaron replies, a challenge in his eyes as he looks down at her, a glint of something she would never have seen before they got together. The soft and mischievous side to him that was so well hidden most of the time, but now so obvious to her.

“I’m a big girl, sir.” She replies, laughing when she sees how hard he swallows, never able to win against her in this game.

The bartender stops the back and forth by bringing the rest of the drinks over and placing them down in front of her. Aaron picks up half of them, bottles of beer swinging in between his fingers and winks at her as he turns away, creating a path for her through the throngs of people waiting to be served. He turns suddenly, stopping her in place and she looks past him to the others, sees JJ, Dave and Spencer deep in conversation, and Penelope and Derek dancing together nearby.

“When can we get out of here?” He asks, and she can see the desperation in his eyes too. They’d get another case tomorrow, there was always another case, and he wanted some time to be just the two of them just as much as she did.

“I’d say another hour at least.” She says, smiling at him, all of their flirty banter gone. She gently nudges his shoulder with hers, her hands full with the team's drinks. “Come on, Aaron. We’ll go have fun with our friends, make our separate excuses to leave and then I’ll take you back to mine.”

Penelope shouts at them, catching their attention from where they are standing, demanding her drink, and the moment is over. Emily and Aaron’s eyes meet and his lips twitch with a smile before they head back over to the team.

Time moves slowly, and the more she drinks the more she thinks about how much she wants him. She edges slightly closer to him, using how someone behind her elbows into her as they squeeze past as an excuse to bump into him.

She knows it’s a bad idea, that no one knows about them yet. At first the secrecy was merely practical. A way for them to figure out what they were, if a relationship between them would work as they hoped it would. By the time it became clear it worked, that they were the very thing each other had been looking for, they had also realised that the secrecy also worked for them.

Quick looks thrown across the bullpen or the precinct in a no name town. A subtle touch to the shoulder, or a brush of his hand across her back as he passed her. They would tease each other, push one another to the edge so that when they were finally alone things were explosive. Beyond that their relationship was something she treasured deeply. The naked honesty between the two of them was unlike anything else she had ever experienced, and she liked that it was untouched by anything else. Something just for them.

She knew he liked it too.

It’s how they found themselves 6 months down the line with none of the team seemingly aware of the shift in their relationship, the way they love each other in every sense of the word.

She would later blame the tequila shots Penelope had insisted on the moment they arrived. Emboldening her in a way beer or wine wouldn’t. Emily suddenly realises that she can’t wait until they get back to hers, the distance to her apartment seeming too far. She just needs to touch him, to be touched by him, and she tells herself a hug would be enough. That it would see her through until they were able to give their excuses and leave.

She tells the team she needs some air and she’s going outside. JJ and Penelope probably assume she’s going to sneak a cigarette, like she sometimes did when she drank, given the way they wink at her. It’s her silent conversation with Aaron that says it all. A quick meeting of their eyes and an almost undetectable nod from him.

He’s outside 5 minutes after she is, smiling as she looks up at him through her lashes. He crowds her against the wall almost immediately, his presence overwhelming her like it always did.

“You ok?” He asks, his hand coming up to tuck some of her hair behind her ear, the tender moment lighting something in her belly.

She’s missed him. Which felt absurd because she has spent every day with him, but she’s missed this. The opportunity to be them, Emily and Aaron as opposed to Hotch and Prentiss.

She nods her response before she leans in to kiss him, intending it to be nothing more than a quick press of her lips to his. A moment to show him everything she couldn’t put into words.

It instantly sparks something in her belly, leaving her intoxicated on him as well as the tequila he could no doubt taste on her lips. She pulls away slightly and leads him further away from the entrance to the bar, their hands linking as they walk into the shadow of the alley next to them.

The second they are far enough out of sight of the street she’s against the wall again, Aaron invading all of her senses. He kisses her fiercely and she moans as he licks into her mouth, his hand cupping her cheek to keep her in place. Her hands grasp at the back of his head, holding him close. Both of them act as if it had been weeks since they had last been able to touch each other, not the matter of days that had passed since they got an early morning call from Penelope.

It’s desperation for him that stops her brain from coming back online, the taste of him and the scent of his cologne, the feel of him pressed against her, preventing her from rationalising that they should go back to hers. He presses his thigh between her legs and she gasps, breaking their kiss as he moves to kiss her jaw instead, moving down to her neck.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” She says, trying to remember to breathe as he bites against her skin. Her head falls back to the alley wall behind her and she closes her eyes briefly.

“Missed you too.” He says against her, one of his hands moving to her jeans, undoing the button before he kisses her again, swallowing the moan of anticipation as his hand skips past the denim and below the line of her underwear.

She’s too focused on where his fingers are, the feel of him pressed heavily against her, to register the sound of footsteps down the alley.

“What the hell is going on?”

Aaron wretches his mouth from hers quickly and they both turn to see Derek standing several feet away from them, his eyes wide and his arms crossed.

“Shit.” Emily says, pushing Aaron back from her slightly. Grateful he has the foresight to stand in front of her and allow her to do her jeans back up, unable to hide her blush as she notices him subtly wipe his hand on his own pants. Once she is put back together she steps out from behind Aaron, but sticks close to him. “Derek-”

He’s storming away from them before she can say anything else.

“Damn it.” Aaron says, turning back to look at her as Derek disappears from view. “He’s going to tell everyone.“

“They were going to find out eventually, Aaron.” She replies, sounding calmer than she felt as she uses her hand to wipe her lipstick away from his face. “Admittedly it would have been better if they hadn’t found out because Derek saw us with your hand down my pants.”

“Emily.”

“Honey,” she says, straightening his shirt as best as she could, “it will be fine.” She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince, Aaron or herself, but she smiles at him. “The longer we stay out here the worse it will be though.”

Aaron sighs and nods, reaching out to grab her hand and squeezing it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She stamps a kiss to his lips but pulls away before it can become anything else, letting herself be led back into the bar, her hand safely in his until they walk through the doors.

When they get back inside everyone but Derek is sitting around the table they had called their own the moment they walked in.

“Where’s Derek?” Emily asks, hoping she sounds nonchalant.

“No idea. He went to find you, came back to get his jacket and stormed off like a bat out of hell.” Dave says. He briefly narrows his eyes before smirking at them, as if something had just clicked into place. “Why do you two look so dishevelled anyway?”

“What are you talking about Dave?” Emily asks, almost challenging him. She regrets it the moment he raises his eyebrow.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m talking about the hickey on your neck.” He replies, not keeping the laughter out of his voice as her hand moves to cover the patch of skin Aaron had been paying attention to only a few moments before.

“Or the lipstick on Hotch’s collar that matches yours perfectly.” JJ adds with a smirk on her face as she takes a sip from her drink, unphased by the way Emily was glaring at her.

“Oh my god.” Penelope interrupts gleefully. “Did Morgan walk in on you guys making out?”

Emily groans, only feeling slightly placated when Aaron wraps his arm around her, his hand coming to settle on her hip. “I think I’d like to go home now.”

“Oh no chance of that, gorgeous.” Penelope says. “You are going to tell us everything.”

“I need another drink.” Emily says as she takes a seat, barely restraining the urge to roll her eyes when Dave slides her one across the table, an unclaimed bottle of beer that she grabs instantly. She takes a sip as Aaron takes a seat next to her, throwing his arm across the back of her chair, his hand on her shoulder.

Emily ignores how fucking delighted Penelope and Dave look. The smugness and confusion on JJ and Spencer’s faces respectively make her shake her head, another long swig of her beer before she passes it to Aaron for him to share it.

“How long has this been going on?” Dave asks, a look on his face that Emily had never thought to be more punchable.

“6 months.” Emily replies smoothly, leaning further into Aaron, finding herself grateful for her ability to do so. Something freeing in being able to show off their relationship to their friends, find comfort in him that she usually had to wait for until they were behind closed doors.

“6 months?!” Penelope exclaims, an edge of hurt creeping into her voice. “Why did you keep it secret that long?”

“We just wanted to figure it out first.” Aaron says, his tone authoritative in a way he usually tried to avoid outside of a case.

“And that took 6 months?” JJ asks, her eyebrow raised at them as she takes a sip of her own beer.

“More like 6 days,” Emily replies, honesty brought forth by the alcohol she’d consumed and Aaron’s warmth pressed up against her, “but we wanted to keep it between us for a while.” She looks over to Spencer, his gaze still fixed on them. “You ok Spence, you seem quiet?”

“Oh, yeah I’m ok.” He replies smiling quickly before clearing his throat. “I’m just confused.”

“Well, when a man and a woman love each other very much-” Emily starts, her tone condescending as she smiles, Aaron’s hand gripping tighter at her shoulder.

“I know what sex is, Emily.” He interupts, slightly flustered in a way that was out of character.

“It doesn’t count if you’ve only read about it, Reid.” Dave interjects, protesting when JJ hits him playfully on the arm.

“What I mean is,” Spencer continues, ignoring Dave entirely, “I saw you leaving Hotch's hotel room at 5am 5 months ago.” He says casually, Aaron almost choking on the sip of beer he had taken, Emily gently patting his back. “I thought we all knew but just weren’t talking about it.”

The table falls into silence for a moment, everyone staring at Spencer with slightly dumbfounded expressions on their faces. Penelope recovers first, her words loud enough Emily is sure they are heard at Quantico itself.

“You knew this whole time?”

____

It’s early, even by Aaron’s standards, when his phone rings the next morning. It shocks them both out of sleep, making Emily groan as she presses her face further into her pillow. Her grip on the arm he had thrown over her when they had fallen into bed briefly tightens before she lets him go.

Aaron sits up, picking up his phone before it could ring out and he briefly sees Penelope’s name on the screen before he answers.

“Hotchner.”

“Hi sir, we’ve got a new one. It’s pretty gnarly, out in Colorado. The locals have requested we get there ASAP.”

“Thanks, Garcia.” He mumbles, wiping the last remnants of sleep from his eyes as he sits up to rest against the headboard. He turns to look at Emily who sits up too, leaning her head against his shoulder as she yawns. “Tell everyone to go directly to the jet, you can brief us once we’re wheels up.”

“No problem,” Penelope replies, an edge of amusement to her voice, “do I need to call Emily or can you let her know the details for me?”

“Garcia.”

“Sorry sir,” she says, sounding anything but, “speak to you both soon.” She hangs up before he can say anything else. Aaron sighs as he puts his phone back down.

“They are going to be insufferable.” Emily says, wrapping both of her arms around his tricep, burrowing further into his side. “It was bad enough last night.”

“They’ll be professional if they know what's good for them.”

“Oh, big scary boss.” She says teasingly, pulling away to kiss him. “I like that.”

“Emily.”

“You started it!” She exclaims, kissing him again, her hand coming up to palm his face, her thumb gentle over his cheekbone. She pulls away, a smile that he knows well blooming all over her face. “Do we have time to shower?”

“I always have time to shower with you.” He replies, making her yelp as he pulls her closer, her leg coming over his lap.

They are the last ones to the jet, and she almost thinks it’s worth the looks on the rest of the team's faces.

____

Derek had been acting off with her from the moment her and Aaron arrived at the jet together 3 days prior. He was short with her in a way he hadn’t been in the very early days after she came back from the dead.

It put her on edge, tension rolling through her in a way that Aaron had picked up on, asking her gently if she wanted him to switch up how they partnered off on this case. His hands soft in her hair as they laid in bed together, her having snuck into his hotel room to seek out his comfort. She’d refused, saying it would only make matters worse.

Now, driving to the house of the man they knew was the unsub, she wishes she had taken her boyfriend up on the offer. It was just her and Derek in the SUV, the others following behind, and his insistence on ignoring her finally gets to her.

“What is your problem Derek?” She asks, the car somehow becoming more tense. She watches as his hands grip the steering wheel slightly tighter, his gaze fixed on the road.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He says evenly, his voice not betraying anything.

“Don’t bullshit me.” She replies, her own frustration rising in her chest, threatening to burst out. “I know that wasn’t exactly an ideal way to find out about Aaron and I,” she says, ignoring how Derek scoffs as she is talking, “but there's no need to be like this. Especially when it just seems to be me at the brunt of whatever your problem is.”

Emily thinks that was what was annoying her the most. Trust was a big thing for Derek, she knew that, so part of her expected some kind of fallout when he inevitably found out about her and Aaron. But this attitude had just been aimed at her, Aaron seemingly getting off scot free.

“He’s my boss.” Derek says, like that's an answer.

Emily scoffs this time, looking out the passenger door window so she doesn’t have to look at him. “Like that's stopped you being insubordinate before.”

There are a few moments of tense silence, ended by a sigh from Derek. “It’s not that I’m not happy for you, Em.” He says, the tone to his voice in direct conflict with his words. “I just don’t know if you’ve thought this through.”

“I don’t understand how that’s your business.” She replies, turning to look at him, her arms crossed tightly around her chest.

“Of all people, surely you know you don’t shit where you eat.”

Her chest tightens immediately, sadness and indignation filling her lungs. “If this is about Doyle-”

“We’re here.” Derek says, pulling up and getting out of the car before she can react. She blows out a breath and climbs out of the car herself, her eyes meeting Aaron’s as he climbs out of his.

She sends him a quick smile, wanting nothing more than for the day to be over.

_____

Emily takes a blow to the head, the unsub’s reflexes quicker than they gave him credit for. She swears she can hear Aaron’s intake of breath over the earpiece when Derek says she was down as he tackles the unsub.

Aaron is in the room before she really knows what’s happening, kneeling on the floor next to her as he cups her cheeks in his hands, forcing her eyes to meet his. The rest of the team filter in, Dave and JJ helping Derek with the unsub, getting him back onto his feet, but she barely notices them.

“Hi.” She rasps out, her eyesight slightly blurry.

“Hi.” He replies, smoothing her hair out of her face. “You ok?”

She nods but instantly regrets it. “My head hurts.”

“Well, that will happen when you get hit in the head with a 2x4.” He replies gently, standing as he guides her up, his hand at her elbow to steady her. “Let's get you seen to, the EMT’s will be here soon.”

“I’m fine-”

‘Don’t argue with me.” He says, wrapping his arm around her waist as he guides her out the room. “Morgan, take charge here whilst I get Emily looked at.” He says over his shoulder, not even looking back or waiting for Derek’s confirmation.

____

Once the scene is secured and the unsub is in the back of a cop car, Derek realises he’s lost track of Emily and Aaron. The ambulance is clear of them, the EMT wiping down all the surfaces on the inside now they were done. He goes looking for them, something drawing him towards the alley behind the unsubs apartment building, and he stops in his tracks as his eyes land on them.

Derek can’t believe that he’s found them like this again, although this time things are different. He hasn’t found them making out, hands in places you should never see of your boss or friend, but in a much more tender embrace. What he now realises is a much more accurate representation of their relationship than what he thought he saw outside the bar days ago.

He can’t hear what they are saying, he’s standing too far away for that, but he can see how they are looking after each other. Emily is leaning against the wall, Aaron crowding her to it, his hands on her lower back, her bulletproof vest abandoned elsewhere. Their foreheads are pressed against each other, and Emily has one hand on his face, the other on his neck. Her thumb tracing back and forth across his jawline, as if she was trying to soothe the tension away.

He isn’t sure who is comforting who. Whether it’s Aaron making sure Emily is alright after she’s been hurt, or if it’s Emily reassuring him that she’s fine. That she’s survived worse. Derek turns away, suddenly feeling voyeuristic, and as he walks back towards the rest of the team he realises that it’s probably both, that they are comforting each other.

Dave asks him if he’s seen Aaron or Emily and he shakes his head, buying them some time together he knows they both deserve.

____

“I can carry my own bag, Aaron.” Emily says, exasperation in her voice as he has both of their go-bags over his shoulder, her protests completely ignored as he continues walking away from the jet and towards his parked car. “You get one tiny concussion…” She mutters under her own breath, ignoring how her head burned slightly as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Em?” Derek says from behind her, making her turn to look at him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Emily nods, turning back to look at Aaron. They have a silent conversation, one he instantly understands as he walks towards the car, leaving her and Derek alone. She looks back at Derek and crosses her arms across her chest.

“Everything ok?” She asks, prompting him.

“I wanted to apologise, for earlier.” He says, his eyes meeting hers. “I know whatever is going on between you and Hotch is not the same as the Doyle thing. I shouldn’t have implied it.”

“No,” she replies, “you shouldn’t have. I…I didn’t know that still bothered you.”

“It doesn’t.” He implores, sincere in a way that she believes.

“Then why did you say it?”

He sighs, throwing his hand up in the air as if he could pluck the answer from somewhere. “I don’t know. To get a reaction.”

She bites her bottom lip as she looks at him, before looking down to her hands, her cuticles slightly torn.

“I love him, Derek. This isn’t just some fling.” She says, her eyes meeting his again and finding understanding there. “I wouldn’t risk the team dynamic for that. Not after everything else thats happened.”

“I know.” He replies, nodding. “Can I have a hug?”

She smiles at him. “Of course.” He pulls her into a hug and she returns it, only pulling away when she hears him huff out a laugh in her ear. “What?”

“Your boyfriend is glaring at us.”

Emily turns to see Aaron looking at them out of the windshield of his car, his gaze firm, and it makes her laugh too.

“Oh he never glares at me, that’s all for you.”

Derek shakes his head at her, knowing there was no way that was entirely true, and then links his arm through hers as they carry on walking back towards the cars.

“Come on Princess, let's get you over there before he thinks I’m going to steal his girl.”

She huffs out a laugh at that. “Like anyone could steal me from him.”

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

[mercy-burning]

Hangover Duty

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader’s birthday party leads to some rather endearing drunk antics. Category: Fluff Warnings: Mild language, alcohol consumption, mentions of the prison arc (is that a proper content warning? idk lol) (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in content warnings! I always want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Funny story, I woke up at like 3 in the morning last night and just sat up and cranked this out in one go, unprompted. I’m not sure why inspiration struck that late (early?) but I’m rather proud of this one considering I just woke up to edit it a few hours ago 😂, I hope you like it!

***

Watching her gradually get more drunk as the night went on had to be the most amusing and incredibly endearing way to get back into the groove of things. It was nice, actually, being able to have a good time with his friends without constantly being reminded of what's happened in the past year.

Especially considering this year Spencer was determined not to miss Y/N's birthday. Last year he'd been in prison, and rather than being able to celebrate with her and their friends, rather than getting her a card or writing her a letter, she'd written him a letter that detailed in depth how she refused to celebrate until her best friend was there to celebrate with them. Of course he felt awful about the whole thing, and when JJ had dropped off the letters that week, he made her tell Y/N how sorry he was and how he wished more than anything that he could have been there.

And naturally, after dealing with Cat another time and settling his mom down, the first chance he got, he told Y/N himself.

She was in the hospital after that incident with Mr. Scratch. She was the first person he saw in the hospital, and she was fine, arguing with the doctors about leaving to help her team. But once he showed up, telling the doctors he could get her to sit down, they left, and he pulled her in for the biggest hug they'd ever shared.

And the first thing he told her was, "I'm sorry I missed your birthday."

She'd only laughed and squeezed him tighter, replying with a short, yet simple, "Shut up."

He promised to himself then that no matter what happened, he would never miss another one of her birthdays again.

Since it was the first one since all that had happened, Spencer planned something a little extra special. Weeks ahead of time, he talked to Rossi about being able to rent out a bar for the night, Y/N's favorite bar to be exact. Just for themselves. As to be expected, it took a bit of convincing, but eventually they'd been able to successfully rent out the bar for one night, and though Rossi was insistent on paying everything, Spencer wanted to offer as much as he could.

Penelope, of course, insisted on putting up decorations. She roped Luke into helping her, and though he played off like it would be torture, for one thing he was happy to help celebrate his friend's birthday in any way he could, but he also was terrible at hiding the fact that he was more than happy to help Penelope with anything she needed, whether it actually pertained to the party or not.

Everyone told her they were all just going to meet up for drinks after work that day. Y/N was more than okay with it, explaining to them how she was just happy to be able to spend her birthday with her friends no matter where they were. They told her to meet at 7pm when in reality they would all be at the bar an hour and a half early to set up and make sure everything was perfect.

When Y/N actually showed up, Spencer had never seen her so radiant. Even as she was swarmed by Garcia putting on a pink party hat for her that promptly read "Birthday Girl", her hair slightly out of place because of its placement on her head, she was the perfect example of human perfection. She greeted everyone with a huge, beautiful smile accompanied by lots of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, and when she finally got to Spencer, he tried not t hold her to him for too long.

One of the reasons Y/N loved this specific bar was because of the karaoke machine. In fact, drunken karaoke was a decent weekly occurrence with the BAU, and while they'd been no strangers to the act, it only became more frequent when Y/N joined the team. For years now they'd spent many hours singing just as many songs as anyone could think of. And even while drunk, Y/N was a natural. She slipped up on words and slurred them together once in a while, sure, but her voice was easily the most impressive of the bunch, not to mention she never failed to get anyone and everyone to join in.

All that to say Spencer made sure they would be able to use the karaoke machine before they rented out the place. He even attempted to teach himself how to work it, but try as he might, he ended up calling on JJ to help him do it.

Throughout the night they all took turns singing songs, and at one point Y/N finished a song and made a speech, standing up on the bar. (Deep down Spencer was a little nervous that she would hurt herself, or that somehow the owner of the bar would find out that she'd broken one of many rules he had about renting the place out. But that was neither here nor there when he saw the glowing smile she had on her face, looking at all her friends with the most love and admiration he'd seen anyone carry in a while.)

"I'm jussali'l tipsy at the moment, so m'sorry if I don't make any sense," Y/N slurred together, obviously very drunk. Everyone laughed and she continued, clutching the microphone in one hand and placing the other over her heart like she was going to say the Pledge of Allegiance. "I jusneed to say how much I love y'guys. Thank you for celebratin' with me and makin' my birthday real special. I'mean, you fricken rented out a whole-ass bar! That's so nice!"

As she squealed out the last sentence, Spencer couldn't help the wide smile that broke out on his face. She was just so radiant, glowing with warmth and love and happiness and everything good in the world.

She was also struggling to get off the bar. He rushed forward to help her, and she fell forward, into his arms with a giggle.

"You okay?" he asked, his concern blowing away in the wind when she looked into his eyes with another winning smile.

"No thanks t'you," she answered, promptly 'boop'-ing him on the nose before she reached over to the bar and grabbed a full shot glass. After downing the drink, she brushed passed him with a slap on the butt and another giggle, right before she loudly asked Penelope to cut her another slice of cake.

Spencer knew she wouldn't have been so bold had she been sober, but the whole situation still made him feel all warm inside, like he'd taken a shot of whiskey himself.

Luke came up to him, clapping him on the back and snapping him out of it. "This mean you and the birthday girl are finally a thing now?"

"W—what? I don't know what you mean..."

He was obviously lying, and Luke could tell. He laughed a little, nodding towards Y/N, who was currently laughing with Emily and Penelope, a bright blue smudge of frosting on her nose. "She really missed you when you were gone, man. Even put her birthday on hold until she could celebrate with you."

"Well, we've been best friends for years, and she loves her birthday. It was... A hard year. It makes sense."

"Okay, that's fair, but do you know how bad it was? No presents, no birthday wishes, nothing. She demanded we act like it was any other day. And when I brought her a cupcake, she just set it on your desk and left it there. It sat there for about a week before she finally threw it out."

Spencer looked at where she was standing, eating more cake and swaying lightly to the music that was now playing over the speakers. "Really," he mused, not even thinking about it.

Luke sighed beside him. "Look, you can... believe what you want, but we've all noticed it. You two are practically inseparable, and the way I'm seeing you look at her right now tells me everything I need to know."

Even being called out like that, Spencer couldn't make himself look away. And even if he did, he wouldn't have really known what to say. Because all that was running through his mind at the moment was how right Luke was. How much he couldn't help but feel warm and safe when he was in Y/N's presence, and how she made him feel like the only person in the world sometimes.

He wondered then if maybe in the next day or two he should tell her how he felt.

One by one each member of the team eventually left the bar to go home. Each time one of them did, Y/N gave them the biggest hug and mumbled an abundance of 'thank you's and 'I love you's, much like at the start of the night, only this time her words were slurred and higher-pitched and very much laced with alcohol.

The only three people left at the end of the night were her, Spencer, and Emily.

Y/N came up between them and wrapped both her arms around their shoulders, pulling them in for a messy group-hug. "How'r we gonna clean this place up?" she asked dramatically, looking around once they all pulled away.

"I'm going to clean this place up," Emily said, giving Spencer a knowing look. "Since it's your birthday, your best friend here is going to make sure you get home safe and sound."

He definitely didn't see that coming, but somehow he felt like he should have. Regardless, he was more than happy to take the job. Especially when Y/N jumped up and down and threw her arms around him, giving a big old, "Yaaayyyy!" into his neck. She pulled away and gripped his shirt, bouncing on her feet with a large grin. "We can take my car and we can listen t'that CD I was tellin' you about and when we get t'my house we can have a sleepover!"

"Anything you want," he told her with a smile. "Go get your stuff together and we'll go."

As she wandered around the bar to find her shoes that she'd taken off somewhere along the line, Emily nudged Spencer with a smile. "She loves you, you know."

"She's drunk," he countered.

And as if on cue, right then she held one of her shoes up in the air with a triumphant gleam in her eye. "One down!"

"Okay, well, even when she's not drunk, she still loves you."

Though his heart swelled at the thought, he changed the subject. "You don't have to clean everything up. I was going to come back tomorrow morning and do it myself anyway."

"Eh, don't worry, I'm happy to do it." Emily nodded towards Y/N, who was walking around with one shoe on and picking up the other on the floor next to the cake table. "Besides, something tells me you're gonna be a bit preoccupied with hangover duty."

I wouldn't want any other job, he thought to himself.

And even though the nearly-impossible task of getting her into the car should have stressed him out (she kept getting out of the car as Spencer walked around to the driver's side, until finally he promised her a cheeseburger if she would stay), he still wouldn't have had it any other way.

They stopped at McDonald's on the way home, like he promised, and she was practically buzzing with happiness with the food in her lap. She made him sit in the parking lot and wait until she was done eating so she wouldn't spill anything. And in the dim light of the car, parked under a streetlight and watching her eat her food while she rambled on about the most random things, Spencer didn't think he'd ever felt more content.

He tried to keep her quiet as they made their way up the steps to the third floor of her apartment building. They were going to take the elevator but Y/N insisted it would eat her alive, and he quickly agreed to take the stairs as not to make a scene and wake everyone up with her crying. Her shoes came off again on the second flight of stairs, because she kept tripping and then laughing, pretending to fall back and almost scaring him to death.

Now he was unlocking her apartment door with her shoes in his other hand as she clung to his side. As soon as the door was open, she pushed past him and called out for her cat, Murphy. It didn't take long before the white cat jumped up on the counter to meet her, and she squealed and enveloped him in a crushing hug, picking him up and spinning around to meet Spencer, who was closing the door behind him and setting her shoes on the ground.

"Say hi to Murphy! He loves when you come to visit!"

It was true. Though he never really found himself fond of cats, as soon as he visited Y/N's apartment for the first time Murphy clung to him immediately. It didn't take long for the two of them to become as well acquainted as Y/N had been to either of them. Whenever he came over, Spencer liked to think of them as a small little family.

"Hey, Murph," he said, reaching out to pet the cat's head as he wriggled a little under Y/N's strong clutch.

She dropped him after shoving her face in his fur, and wasted no time taking Spencer's hand. "C'mon, I've got some vodka in the cupboard."

As she dragged him further into the kitchen, he squeezed her hand and tried to pull her to him, away from the cupboard. "Y/N, it's almost one in the morning, you need to go to bed."

She turned to face him and whined. "But it's my birthday, you can't make me."

"Well, technically it isn't your birthday anymore since it's past midnight. So, really, I can make you. Come on."

She whined again as he dragged her along to the bedroom. Once they got inside, he sat her down on the bed and reached out to pull off her party hat, which was lopsided and almost placed on her forehead like a unicorn horn. But when he touched the string, she grabbed his hand.

"I wanna leave it on," she said softly.

"It's not safe, you could choke yourself in your sleep," Spencer countered, brushing her hand away and taking the hat off. As his fingers brushed her cheek, she sighed and closed her eyes, a few seconds before letting out a little giggle.

"That tickled," she laughed as he set the hat on her bedside table.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him, and he started to feel all warm again. "Sorry," he whispered, taking the time to memorize the way she looked right then. The curls in her hair had fallen flat, and her makeup was a little smudged, but the lazy smile on her face and the way she blinked up at him with her big, beautiful eyes would always be worth remembering. He could have stayed in that moment forever, just sitting in that comforting silence.

But alas, she was drunk, and unable to be quiet for more than ten seconds.

Y/N lightly poked him in the chest and laughed. "Hey, d'y'think Murphy ever gets tired?"

"I'm sure he does," was all Spencer said, trying to get her to lay down. She did so as she spoke, rambling on about what she thought her cat might have done when she was away at work. But she stopped talking altogether when Spencer tried to put a blanket over her.

"No," was all she said, kicking her legs up.

"You don't want a blanket?"

"No, I want you to be in the blanket with me."

He thought about it for a second before motioning for her to scoot over. "I'll lay with you for a little while, but you have to promise me you'll go to sleep, okay?"

She giggled triumphantly as he laid down beside her and draped the blanket over their legs. "I told'ya a sleepover would be fun."

Spencer reached out and lightly rubbed her arm, knowing that always got her to fall asleep. "I know you did."

But she didn't close her eyes. She was unusually quiet though, just silently staring at his face before she sharply pulled her arm away. "You're tickling me again."

"I thought you liked when I rub your arm, it helps you sleep," is all he said.

Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled it up to lay between them on the pillow, separating their faces. She placed it palm up and rolled up his sleeves so she could rub his forearm, too. Her touches weren't as light, but she giggled all the same. "Am I tickling you?"

He wanted to tell her the truth, which was that she was not tickling him, and it actually felt really nice. But because it might make her feel better, he lied, and told her, "Yes."

"Good," she laughed, moving her hand faster. Now she was just tracing his forearm with her middle finger like she might rub out a stain on the carpet, and Spencer tried to wiggle his arm away.

"Y/N..."

He didn't say it to be mean or irritated, in fact his voice was level and soothing as not to alarm her at all, but all the same she gasped and immediately pulled her hand away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," he reassured, moving a little closer to her. "You didn't hurt me, I'm ok—"

"Let me kiss it and make it feel better," she continued, ignoring him completely. Before he could stop her, she grabbed his arm and brought it to her mouth, pressing gentle lips to the crease of his elbow trough the fabric of his shirt, then moving the tiny kisses along up his arm until she made it to his wrist. She didn't stop there, continuing to kiss the palm of his hand and even along his fingers, right until she reached his fingertips.

He laid there, completely still and mesmerized as she flipped his arm over and worked her way down again, kissing the backside of his hand and keeping her lips pressed to his wrist for approximately four seconds. Then she flipped his arm over again and kissed the palm of his hand once more, repeating her many kisses until she got to his middle finger.

He should have seen it coming.

He was so caught up in the feeling of her lips pressed against his skin that it completely slipped his mind that she was still drunk. So when she wrapped her lips around his middle finger and sucked it into her mouth with a laugh, he pulled his arm away and sighed.

She actually cackled with laughter, slightly flailing her legs under the blanket. "Gotcha!"

"Ha-ha," Spencer deadpanned, wiping his finger on his shirt.

He wasn't really sure what to say once her laughter died down, but once he opened his mouth to suggest they try sleeping, she spoke first.

"Can I have a glass of water?"

He studied her for a moment. "You're not going to try anything funny, are you?"

She laughed, leaning forward and brushing her nose against his for the briefest of seconds before retreating and looking him in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it."

There was no way he could say no. "Alright. I'll be back in a second."

Spencer got out of the bed and turned to leave, but she leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "Wait! I have to tell you a secret first."

If he stayed and listened to what she had to say, it was probably dangerous territory, because in the movies this was always the moment where there were drunken confessions of things you never wanted to say out loud, right? And he didn't want to do that to her, but realistically she was probably going to say something ridiculous about Murphy. Right?

Nonetheless, Spencer turned around and looked down at Y/N. "What is it?"

She pulled his hand, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. "Come closer. It's a secret."

He leaned down, but she pulled him again. "Closer!"

Finally, he made his way down to her face, turning his head so she could whisper in his ear.

But she didn't. Instead he felt her press a kiss to his cheek, emphasized with a loud smooch-ing sound when she pulled away. He looked down at her to see the biggest smile on her face.

"S'all I wanted to say. You can go now."

He smiled back at her before nodding and leaving the room, his cheek and arm practically burning from where she'd kissed them.

And when he came back with her water, she was fast asleep.

***

More than anything she just wanted the banging to stop. But once she realized it was in her head, and it was there because she'd been drinking all night, her irritability was even worse.

"Fuck," Y/N grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes. When she did open them she found Murphy curled into a ball at the foot of her bed, his white fur a stark contrast to the deep maroon color of her comforter.

The next thing she noticed was the smell of something... burning? But there wasn't any sound to be heard other than the beating of her head, so she had to wonder if maybe somewhere outside there had been some kind of fire. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

She wasn't going to investigate, but then she heard her front door open, and despite the pounding in her head, Y/N sat up straight, almost scared out of her mind. Instinctively she reached beside her, knocking over a pink party hat in the process, and grabbing the baseball bat she kept there in between her bed and the table.

As quietly as she could, Y/N crept through the bedroom until she reached the door, pressing her ear against it to hear anything more. She heard plastic bags rustling around, and though that was fairly innocent in terms of menacing sounds, it still didn't quell the feeling that punched her in the pit of her stomach. Though, to be fair, she was certain a lot of that had to do with the copious amounts of whiskey and other liquor she drank the night before.

She took a deep breath before slowly swinging the door open and taking a few quiet steps into the hallway, just before she had to turn the corner to get into the kitchen. The noise got louder as she approached, and after taking another slow, deep breath, Y/N jumped out and held her bat out in front of her.

"FBI! What Are you doing in my house?"

"Holy shit!"

Spencer was standing in her smoky kitchen, clutching his hand to his chest. "Y/N, it's just me! Put the bat down!"

It clattered to the ground as she sighed out and shook her head. "What the hell, man, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Right back at you! I was just bringing you some breakfast..."

Y/N surveyed the kitchen and found that, sure enough, there were what looked like wrapped sandwiches on the counter. "Why is it all... burn-y in here? What happened?"

Spencer looked around nervously, his hands fumbling at his sides. "I, uh... tried to make you French toast. I know it's your favorite, and I know that greasy food is supposed to help with hangovers, so I tried to make some bacon, too, but it turns out that I really suck at multi-tasking in the kitchen, and I burned it all... So, I went with gas-station breakfast, which I figured was the next best thing."

The way he spoke reminded Y/N of a little kid who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to. He was extremely apologetic, almost in a way that made her think he thought she'd yell at him.

Now she remembered just a little of what happened the night before. She remembered drinking a lot and then Spencer taking her home, but she was so tired and out of it that all the little details weren't clear. Or present at all, really. All she knew when she looked at him in her kitchen right then, was that she'd never been more happy to see anyone while hungover. Especially since that someone happened to be her best friend and brought her breakfast.

She smiled and walked over to him. "That was really sweet of you, thank you."

Spencer looked down at her and smiled. "Sorry about scaring you."

"Eh, don't be. It was a good wake-up call," she laughed. "What would I do without you?"

He reached his hand out and brushed some of the hair from her face, at which she almost melted. "I think I should be asking you that question."

Something came to her mind just then, and she wasn't sure why. But she took the risk anyway, turning her head and kissing the inside of his palm.

"W—what was that for?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. Just felt right."

She didn't know how long they stood there, smiling at each other, but it felt different, like suddenly the air around them had shifted overnight into something palpably electric. And it's that energy that urged her to say something she'd been afraid to say for so long.

"Hey, I uh... I don't know if this is weird timing, and you can say no even though it was my birthday yesterday, don't feel pressured to say yes, but I—"

"Yes."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

"I don't care," Spencer said simply. "Whatever it is you want, it's yours."

"So, if... If I asked you to dinner tonight—"

"Yes."

Her stomach churned, but this time it had nothing to do with the hangover. The pounding in her head was more of a dull thrum now because the pounding in her heart overpowered it. And it grew even more intense when her best friend took a step closer, placing his hand to the side of her face.

"I wouldn't kiss me right now if I were you," she warned, tilting her head to the side. "Hangover breath is basically a bio-hazard, and you're going to completely rethink going out with me."

Spencer shook his head and leaned in even closer. "I don't care."

As he kissed her, she lost herself in him completely and came to the conclusion that he was the only hangover cure she would ever need.

***

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes

[celestialarchiveshq]

Dearest Daddy

Dearest Daddy series, consisting of the haikyuu characters in the fatherhood universe! 

Homesick by @aomineavenue​

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons? 

Tags: dad!Atsumu x mom!Reader, Atsumu doesn’t know, six years timeskip, twins, angst, fluff if you close your eyes (lmao)

“Those kids probably aren’t even mine.”

“You were the only man I’ve ever been with. The only man that I’ve ever wanted. The only man I’ve ever loved. It’s always been you.”

status: ongoing | series masterlist | taglist: closed

Stubborn by @aomineavenue

Summary: Ushijima Wakatoshi and Kegeyama F/N have been secretly seeking out pleasure from each other for at least a year and a half. However, Y/N finds herself growing tired of the arrangement after being constantly hurt by the man she had grown feelings for. However, despite ending things with each other, she finds herself in a pickle when two pink lines screamed right back at her.

Tags: dad!Ushijima x mom!Reader, pregnancy trials, timeskip! fluffy, angsty. 

“Why do you even care?” 

“Are you crazy? I’ve always cared. Baby or no baby. Have my actions towards you not been enough for you to understand that it isn’t just you who have feelings for the other? Do I really need to spell things out for you?”

status: coming soon | series masterlist | taglist: open

Playing House by @toorusushijima​​

Summary: A tragic accident brings two enemies together under one roof as sole guardians of their late best frien’s baby daughter. Will they survive together and find happiness through the bundle of joy in their lives? Or will their hatred for each other win over for the worst?

Tags: godfather!sakusa x godmother!reader, enemies to lovers??, angsty, fluffy.

“Why does it matter if I’m going out with someone?”

“Can’t you stop for a second and think what’s best for our child!”

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Scheming Monsters by @kaitycole

Summary: Two little friends have always desired one thing. To end up as siblings. So when the chance presented itself after a finalized divorce, who were they to decline such an opportunity to finally bring their parents together?

Tags: singledad!bokuto x singlemom!reader, divorced, friends to lovers?? all fluff, maybe a little angst if you use a magnifying glass.

"Shouldn't we just tell them we're dating?"

"No, it's funny to watch them think they're so slick."

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Brilliant Opportunities by @velvetfireworks

Summary: Divorced, single father Oikawa finds himself in a pickle when his ex wife comes barging back in his life demanding full custody over their son for her greedy needs, he seeks assistance from the woman he wished he had married in the first place.

Tags: divorced!oikawa, singledad!oikawa, best friends to lovers to ex lovers, reunion, fluffy, angsty. 

"What do you say? Would you marry me?"

"Sure, I think I can squeeze you in this weekend. How does Saturday sound?"

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Bonding Bliss by @newfriendjen

Summary: Single parents Kita and L/N find spending more time with each other through their daughters' bonding play dates, not realizing their growing feelings for each other. But as sweet as it is, it's not always cupcakes and rainbows when people from the past return.

Tags: singledad!kita x singlemom!reader, fluffy fluffy cotton, angst :c

"I can't believe she had the audacity to come barging back into her life and think makeup would be perfect as a gift for a six years old!"

"Yeah, oh and I told her we were dating if that's okay."

"Oh that's fin—what?"

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Meddling by @shoyomeow

Summary: A tale of how Matsukawa’s little boy, his pride and joy, helps him find the love he truly deserves. 

Tags: single!dadxMatsukawa, fluffy. Just fluff. That’s it. 

"Uh, what are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? You texted me to come over."

Oh.

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Escape Plan by @hidden-otaku-stuff

Summary: Growing up in a traditional family always had its ups and downs. Arranged marriages was the very one of them that you dreaded ever since your contract had been presented to you at the age of eighteen. L/N F/N seeks help from an old flame as her 24th birthday fast approaches, wanting nothing more than to escape the wedding of the century the country had claimed.

Tags: traditional, rich family au! angst, crack fic, fluffy soft boy tendou here and there. 

"I mean, yeah sure. I've always wanted to be a dad."

"That's great! How about putting a bun in my oven?"

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Replica by @daifwukus

Summary: To get back at her cheating boyfriend, L/N F/N finds herself a man during a party in her college years. Never had she expected that she would have fallen pregnant over it. Things only get complicated a few years later when the man she despises comes barging back in her life demanding why her son looked exactly like him.

Tags: college party, enemies to parents?? crack fic, lil bit of fluff if you squint, angst. 

"Care to explain why that little toddler in your arms looks exactly like me when I was younger?"

"What crack are you on and where can I get some?"

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open

Wishing Upon A Star by @keijikunn

Summary: Calling him daddy was something your daughter had wished upon a falling star one night ever since you had introduced him as your boyfriend. The three of you finally find the right pace on becoming a happy family that your daughter dreamed of, but what happens when the man that had wanted nothing to do with you and your daughter returns?

Tags: singlemom!reader, angst, angst, ANGST. Only a little bit of fluff. 

“Did you catch what she called me? She really said it!” 

“Yeah, I did. She’s been wanting to call you daddy for the longest time.”

status: wip | series masterlist | taglist: open 

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[roger-that-cap]

all the flowers will bloom

happy birthday to me- and what’s mine is yours so here’s your present y’all! i hope y’all like this one- 

summary: you would have never tried to leave your mother if you knew that bringing that pomegranate tree back to life was your ticket to the underworld. or, maybe you would have, because it turned out that hades was quite the opposite of the evil goddess that you had been drilled to know.

warnings: HA

word count: 3.6k

this is part- damn what part is this- five!!

You knew what a kiss was. Of course you knew what a kiss was, but there was something about what you and Natasha shared that made it feel like much more than what you had seen. You had seen many people kiss before, humans and gods alike, and rarely did they ever seem half as entranced by the action as you were. To be frank, you could have sworn that your soul- if you even had one- was floating while she kissed you. And it was still sort of floating. 

 The thoughts of whether or not you had betrayed everything you had been told ever since you were alive were going strong. You betrayed your mother, your own mind, all of the other gods above who were wary of her. You, everyone’s favorite young goddess, had done the unthinkable and kissed the Goddess of the Underworld. If they heard of what you had done, would they even want you back? You had purposely danced with death, put your lips on it, and if you were to be completely honest with yourself, fallen for it. 

You wanted to hit yourself after that thought. She wasn’t just death. It wasn’t fair to call her that, even in the privacy of your head. It wasn’t fair for them to see her that way, either, but that was the way that the world worked. She was powerful and dark and lived in a place where no one wanted to be, therefore, everyone naturally shied away from her. Most were more afraid than hateful, but of course your mother was the exception. And suddenly, you knew that everyone else wouldn’t be a problem. Once they realized that she was actually very kind to you throughout your stay, they would take you back. But your mother would never accept that. She would call you weak in the mind, tell you that you were imagining acts and words of kindness that weren’t really there. She would never grasp the fact that Natasha could be kind. 

Well, she wasn’t being the nicest at the moment. Every time she saw you, she would turn right around and walk so far in the opposite direction that you couldn't even make out her red hair. You would sometimes see her poke her head around the corner and then retreat so quickly that it scared you sometimes. If she got to your garden before you did, you would see her with her back to you, staring hardcore at your beds of flowers until she felt you coming, your energy no doubt tangling with hers. And then she would leave without a word. 

At first, you let her be. You figured that she was having the same exact feelings you were- a lot of things rolled up together just for a singular, bold emotion to come up front: uncertainty. You knew that she felt the same way that you did. When you kissed, there was something that fell into place, something so pure and right that it was nearly impossible to ignore it. You know she felt it, and she knew you did, too. You knew she wasn’t ignoring you because she didn’t feel for you. She was ignoring you because she was scared. And so were you. 

The garden was more than halfway done. You had gotten most of the plants strong enough to live without you, to the point  where you weren’t worried about them dying once you left. The soil was even stronger than the stems of your plants, supportive and ready to nurture. Every toxin that your mother put in the soil had been removed by you, and you had no doubt that if you worked day and night, that you could be released from the Underworld within a fortnight. Weeks ago, that would have been a glorious thought. It would have been everything you wanted to hear, your ticket to paradise. Now? It sounded almost like a death sentence. You didn’t want to leave. 

 You wanted to see your mother. You wanted to feel her dote on you and you even wanted to hear her scold you. You wanted to see the nymphs. You wanted to see Steve and your plants above ground. You wanted to watch the humans fool around and talk worry about things that were nothing in the grand scheme of things. You couldn’t do that from the Underworld. But you couldn’t see Natasha from above. 

 You knew that one you left, there was no going back. Your mother was going to have you on a leash so tight and short that she would never lose sight of the back of your head. She was probably going to demand that the cave and tree be demolished and that whatever portal sat under it be destroyed. She was going to make sure that you were miles away from Natasha and her world at all times, maybe even make you stay on the mountain. She was going to tug you away by your arm, nails digging into your skin like you were a child all over again, and then that would be it. And all you would have left of the queen would be memories. And you would have to live with it. 

Yet with every second that passed, you were less and less sure that you were going to be okay with that. 

Even before the night where you kissed, you knew that there was something different about her. Something different about the way you felt when you were with her, even. She wasn’t what you expected, which led you to curiosity. Your curiosity was one of your most famous traits, and of course, and that led to you wanting to know her more. The more that you got what you wanted, the more that you fell for her, irreversibly. You knew that you were beginning to feel something otherworldly with her. You couldn't ignore it. 

That was what got you standing up from a little patch in the ground that you had already set aside in your mind for a few peonies. You had it committed to memory, and you whispered a little promise to the life beneath you that you would be back. 

 You were walking so quickly and with such purpose that your sage green dress moved with your steps. Your eyes narrowed as you walked through the halls, seeing a few straggling souls roaming around without a care, not even looking twice at you. You were so intent on making it to Natasha’s room, the only place besides her dismal office that she could be, that you din;t hear someone else’s footsteps coming your way. 

  You stumbled backwards when you collided with someone, a soft grunt escaping your lips as you hit the wall with your arm. “I wasn’t- oh. What are you doing here?” 

 You blinked at the women in front of you and tilted your head to the side. She was painfully familiar, and so was her voice. But you felt like you had heard it in a more urgent setting- “Are you the woman who saved me earlier? From eating breakfast?” 

  “Just doing a civic duty to the living,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders. “Or, the half-living. Whatever you gods classify as.” 

  “Well, thank you.” Although, a moment of insanity occurred in your mind, and in that moment, you swore that eating that full tart and being obliged to stay wouldn't be so bad. There would be no debate. You shook your head and cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.” 

  “It’s Maria.” She looked you up and down. “You’re the gardener?” 

You furrowed your brows at her and then looked down at your attire, a lively yet muted green that reminded you of watered grass, and then remembered how harshly Natasha had barked your name when she thought you had eaten. Your name and occupation was all too obvious. “Y-yeah, kind of.” 

“I wasn’t focused on who you were when I was saving your life,” she admitted, and then you nodded your head. “It kind of only hit me afterwards.” She looked you up and down, and you crossed your arms over your body out of insecurity. “When I was a human, your mother used to be my favorite.” 

Your eyes widened a bit, and your defensive posture left you immediately. “Really?” It was known that humans weren’t supposed to have favorite gods. Gods, no matter how much they said they weren’t were selfish and they loved to be adored by humans. Old gods, especially. They were used to being seen as doting yet punishing creatures, with egos so fragile yet large that they took up entire seas and skies. You were never one to care, but knowing that a human freely admitted their favoritism still shocked you. Even if it was your mother who was her favorite. “Why?” 

 “I used to farm,” the woman said, and you immediately caught the whimsical nature of her tone, and the way her eyes nearly glassed over, like she was thinking about something so sweet yet so far away. “I had my own farm, just me. I prayed to her for good seasons, for good crops, depended on her more than I ever did any human. And I was loyal. My devotion was paid back in full, every season. She always looked out for me, being a woman on my own farm.” 

It sounded like your mother. She was a strong woman who supported other strong women, and when she saw someone who was loyal to her and a true follower, she would bless them. Her occasional cruelty was spoken about almost more than her kindness, but you knew that both of her hands were just and firm. She was just as warm as she was cold. This woman seemed to have gotten her warmth. 

“My name is Maria,” she finally said, and then you nodded and mouthed her name, trying to commit it to memory so that you could ask your mother all about her when you returned. The thought put excitement and dread in your stomach. “Are you looking for the Queen?” You nodded slowly, and then a smirk spread across her face. “Yeah, she’s looking for you, too.” Before you could show any confusion, she turned around the corner with a wave of her hand and then you were following her. 

While you walked a few paces behind her, you couldn’t help but think about her story. Who was she before this? How alive was she really? Had the Underworld dimmed her or was she unaffected by it? She still seemed to have a confident bounce in her walk that only belonged to humans, the only living being who weren’t completely aware of how much and how little life really meant. Only a human could walk with so much confidence. Gods knew better- they knew it was a cycle and that they weren’t the only ones in it, contrary to popular belief. But a human might as well have been the star of their very own orbital system. 

  “Where did you live when you were-” the words were stolen straight out of your mouth when you felt something strong, something so brooding and dark that your tongue went still in your mouth. It nearly choked you, even though Natasha had done that strange thing where she made you feel as if you weren’t surrounded by death. You coughed, and then Maria planted her feet to the ground. 

  Fast footsteps rounded the corner, and there was only a flash of pin straight red hair before you felt a grip on your upper arm, tugging you forward without a word. Immediately, you pushed through the dark haze to protest, only for something deep rooted inside of your soul to realize who it was that had you in their grasp. Who seemed to always have you in their grasp, physically and mentally. And once you realized it was her, you didn’t really mind. You did, however, mind when you were placed into a room, and jumped when the door slammed. Before you could even scold Natasha for her harshness on the inanimate object, both of your shoulders were being held by each of her hands. 

 “If you wanted to leave so badly, you should have just fucking said that.” 

Immediately, her language put something sour in your spirit. Typically, she held her language around you, just like she held back her domineering nature. At one point, she even told you that you were too soft for such words, and there she was not even days later, eyes ablaze and doused in so many emotions you couldn’t even place them.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, blinking at her. 

Everything else washed away for a moment, and then it was just sheer disgust on her face. Your brows furrowed as your heart rate started to pick up, and you wrung your hands out in front of your body, something your mother had scolded you for a thousand times. “How could you-” she huffed out in disbelief and then took a deep breath. “Why?” 

  “I’m really not quite sure-” 

You should have seen it coming. The way that her eyes were turning dark, and the feeling of the air becoming more and more suffocating should have been more than enough for you to realize that you were about to see the worst of her that you had ever seen. But once you realized it, it was far too late. 

“How did you do it?” She asked, somehow growing taller and just larger all around, the dark energy around her swirling into a frenzy. “You contacted your mother and told her that you were being tortured, is that what you did?” 

“What?” You shrieked, shaking your head as you tried to understand what made her come to that conclusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“You found a way to talk to the gods Above Ground and you-” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

 “Then why did I receive a declaration of fucking war, Persephone?” The breath caught in your throat at that. It was silent as you stood staring at her, and she did the same to you, only there was the animosity of a thousand men in her eyes, anger flowing from her to you and sinking into your pores until you felt her hatred tenfold. You stumbled back. You opened and shut your mouth, trying to process it in the pause before she started lashing at you again. “Why is your mother declaring war on me with three others on me and my people? For you?” 

You still stood there, nearly trembling as you absorbed all of what she was feeling took every word, wilted with every single syllable she uttered to you. It couldn't have been the same goddess who refused to touch one of your flowers. It couldn’t have been the one that smiled so sweetly when she realized the petals weren’t falling off and sinking back into the ground to restart the cycle at her touch. There was no way that the angry goddess in front of you was the same one that held you so gently when you felt like you were suffocating in darkness. You didn’t see a trace of any of that in the woman standing before you; just irrational and unanswered wrath. 

You saw the woman your mother had warned you about. And that thought was enough to make your nerves steel, for just a second. 

You shook your head twice. “I don’t know.” 

“So you didn’t tell them all these terrible things, asking to be rescued?” She asked, her voice resembling the hiss of one of the snakes you used to play with when you were much younger, one of the green ones that liked to hide in the tall grass of the first garden you had made on your own. “Then why are they planning to march on the Underworld?” 

“Natasha, I don’t know.” 

“I’m so fucking stupid.” She said, laughing with bitterness that made your stomach churn, and she turned her back to you and began to pace around the office floor. In that moment, you realized that you had never been in her office before, and that the only memory you would have of it would be the moment you were in. “How could I ever think you actually-” she shook her head, and you saw a bittersweet smile creep up onto her face. 

“I haven’t spoken to anyone up there since I got here, how could I?” You asked, exasperation leaking into your voice. “Why do you think I would tell her all those things? Do you have no faith in me?” 

  “You want to go home. I know you do.” 

A sob burst through your chest faster than you could even contain it, louder than you could have imagined, and sounding so animalistic that it had Natasha halt her angry steps. “I don’t even know if I want that!” You wailed, putting your wet face into your hands, just like a child. “I don’t know- how could you know?” 

You looked up slowly to see her face, her pacing stopped and her eyes slightly wide as she stared back at you, all anger drained from her face. And just like that, every emotion that you had ever felt came forward. 

“How am I supposed to want to stay when I came here as an unwanted prisoner? How am I supposed to want to stay when my whole life is up there? Why would I want to stay here? My mother is up there, all my friends, every garden I’ve ever been in, it’s all up there. Everything I ever wanted is up there, but how could I-” another cry, “ how could I ever want to leave? 

 “I’ve fallen in love with this place. The darkness grew on me, the people grew on me, I’ve grown attached to every single flower that blossomed here. I would miss the feeling of this terrible soil so much, maybe even more than I miss the ground from above now. But I know that’s not it, I know that’s not what the main decision is- you fucking-” you sniffled, your angry face not connecting with the despair in your voice. “ I can’t leave you behind.”  

  Heavy breathing. Beating hearts. Twitching fingers. Silence. And then there wasn’t any. 

“I don’t- I don’t think that I’m going to be able to wake up and not see you, Natasha.” Despite how angry she and her outburst had just made you, your heart still ached to tell her what had been bothering you since you realized it. What had been stirring inside of you ever since you met her eyes for the first time. “But I don’t know if I have it in me to stay.” 

Just like that, the anger on both sides was gone. You understood where she was coming from earlier like her thought had been your very own, and something inside of you knew that she was experiencing the same thing. You stood in the middle of her office, head hanging low as a singular tear ran down your face in the aftermath, and before the first sniffle could echo across the room, Natasha’s arms were around you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She murmured, but there was a tremble in her voice, and you melted into her. 

 She didn’t have to say it out loud for you to know why she was so upset earlier. It wasn’t about the possible war- she was afraid that you wanted to leave as badly as she wanted you to stay. “You don’t have to choose,” Natasha’s voice was soothing in you ear as you and your stupid heart forgave her. “You don’t have to. I’m not going to make you.” 

 No, she wouldn’t. But there was another goddess who wasn’t even going to give you an option. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she apologized again, her voice even gentler as her familiar energy wrapped around you just like her arms did. “I just- I don’t want you to think I don’t want you here. I want you to know that I… I want to be able to see you.” 

A few seconds of utter silence passed, and then you were talking again, dipping your toes into a question you’ve always wanted her to answer. You wondered if she was going to allow herself to give you anything. “Does it scare you any?” You asked, burying your face into her neck. Your heart was still racing. 

“Does what, sweet thing?” 

“What you feel. What I feel.” Her arms loosened around you for a second, and you took that chance to look her in the eyes. “I know you’re not very expressive, but you can’t lie to me. I may be young to you, but I’ve seen relationships blossom through others too many times to not recognize what’s happening.” 

  There was a silence between the two of you that should have made you nervous, but all you felt when you looked into her eyes was the way something foreign yet familiar clicked, like the way two metal pieces fit together after wiggling them for a few seconds. Her blue eyes blinked. “Are you trying to say that Eros has snuck down here and struck us both?” 

 “I didn’t, but you did.” 

Her lips quirked upwards for a moment, and then they pulled into a frown again. You frowned back. “What are we going to do?” 

“For now, we can just pretend that nothing is happening. Business as usual. We can deal with it in the morning, but not tonight.” You went back into her arms. “I just want you beside me tonight, is that okay?”  

 You felt her nod, and you closed your eyes. If she was what you wanted, then she would give herself to you. And you would do the same for her. For however much longer you had, anyway. 

[ijustwant2write]

The Nice One-Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader

(GIF credit to @avocadosalad2​)

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Prompt List

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Requested by anonymous: 'I have this idea about Fred Weasley falling in love with Harry’s muggle cousin. a dursley. Maybe y/n and Harry were always really close and she obviously knows all about magic. She’s the only person, Harry actually loved and trusted as a child and that didn’t change when he found out he was wizard so there really close, he sees her as a sister. Maybe he wants to introduce her to ginny because Harry wants her approval. And reader ends up liking Fred, and Fred likes her back.'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Muggle!Dursley!Reader, Harry Potter x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (cousin), Weasley Family x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (platonic), Hermione Granger x Muggle!Dursley!Reader (Platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Mention of neglect/child abuse, lots of fluff

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sitting back in a plastic chair, I looked out of the huge window of the coffee shop, sighing as I realised it had started to rain. I never minded the rain really, but it had been like this since May, with no sign of a proper English summer in sight. Harry returning to the table with two mugs of tea distracted me, and I smiled as he set them on the table, sitting opposite to me.

“It feels like ages since we did this.” I said, blowing over the top of the tea.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’ve not called or contacted you in any way recently.” he apologised, casting his eyes down.

“Harry, you don’t have to be sorry for anything.” I reassured him.“You’ve been making your life in...well, your world. We’ve all grown up, had to get used to becoming adults and such. Though it is a shame we haven’t seen each other for over a year.”

“Year and a half actually.”

“I wasn’t surprised when you invited me here though. Of course, this is under better circumstances. I’m not having to drag you out of the house to avoid my parents.”

“No, this is much nicer.”  he chuckled.“How are they by the way? I was able to see Dudley last month.”

“They’re fine, same as always. I don’t see them as much as I should, though I do call them often. Sometimes it’s hard you know, especially after all that’s happened in the last few years.” I took a sip of tea, finally able to start drinking it.

Harry seemed hesitant to speak again.“Actually, I was wanting to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you remember me talking to you about a girl called Ginny?”

“Ooh, has my little cousin fallen in love?” I was teasing until I saw the genuine smile on his face.“Wait, Harry, do you really like this girl?”

“W-well...I h-have for a while, we actually told each other our feelings when, when other things turned serious. And it��s been going good between us, really good, which leads me to my question.”

I was confused as to where this was going, but waited for him to carry on.

“I was wondering if you would come meet her?”

“You want me to meet her?” I excitedly repeated. 

“Yeah,” he smiled back,“there’s going to be a birthday party for me at her family home. She’s a Weasley.”

“Wait, isn’t that the last name of your friend Ron?”

“It is.”

“You’re dating your best friend’s sister?”

“I’ve already talked about it with him! Do you remember I stayed with him over that summer, and I wrote to you from there?”

“The Burrow!”

He nodded.“They’re more than happy to have you there.”

“Of course I’ll come Harry! For now, you have to tell me everything about this Ginny girl.”

The party was two weeks away, and I could not contain my excitement as it got closer and closer. Although Harry had told me much about the wizarding world, he was the only wizard I had ever met (unless I counted that giant man that had tracked us down when Harry first found out he possessed magic, though there weren’t any introductions), and I was extremely excited to meet more of them. Would they constantly be using magic? Would they just conjure up food and drink? And would they be comfortable with me there? I knew that Harry wouldn’t leave me alone unless I was one hundred percent comfortable with everyone.

It was surprising that Harry hadn’t become irritated with me on the day of his party. He was coming to pick me up, and I had greeted him with an over excited tone, setting off a party popper which made strings of confetti land on his head. I had never been able to celebrate Harry’s birthdays publicly, always sneaking into his room or under the cupboard to give him a small present and a hug to wish him happy birthday (once I was earning my own pocket money, or sweetly asking dad for a few pounds, I would buy him cupcakes as a birthday cake, stashing away sweets for him after he saw how much we were given). Dragging him into my flat, I demanded he close his eyes, dashing in and out of the kitchen with a stupid grin on my face. Counting down from three, I giggled as Harry opened his eyes, smiling when he saw me holding a cupcake with a candle in my hands.

"You didn't forget."

"Of course I didn't. Is it...is it alright?" I became worried, wondering if I had brought up bad memories.

"No, no, I actually missed this. It was one of the things I looked forward to each year."

He blew out the candle, sighing when I urged him to close his eyes and make a wish. Harry then pushed me to get a move on, his eyes widening when he saw me pick up two presents with wrapping paper, as well as a smaller one on top. I walked past him before he could say anything about them, handing him the keys to lock up.

As we turned up at the infamous Burrow, I couldn't help but stand back in awe. It was like nothing I had ever seen, and although shabby looking, very put together, it had some sort of charm to it, it was so different to other houses. Harry had already taken a few steps forward, stopping when he noticed me not move.

"(Y/N)?"

My eyes snapped back down to him."Oh, sorry."

"It's going to be fine." he said, coming to stand beside me.

I just nodded, walking next to him and standing back when he knocked on the door. A short woman opened it, squealing with excitement when she saw Harry, and as she dragged him in for a hug, she playfully scolded him for knocking, claiming that he could waltz in whenever. Staying outside, I poked my head in, still holding the presents in my arms. I watched as Harry was engulfed in numerous hugs, everyone wishing him happy birthday as well as joking and laughing with him. It shocked me. The only time I saw him this happy was when I was able to cheer him up as kids (and that was extremely hard to do when he lived in the hell hole I called home), but a sudden wave of emotion attacked me, I was so happy to see him being treated right.

"Everyone, this is my cousin, (Y/N)." Harry interrupted my thoughts once again, gesturing for me to step inside.

Sheepishly walking in, I held onto the presents a little tighter, smiling through the awkwardness. There were so many of them standing there.

"Here, let me take those from you love." a man who seemed to be the dad offered, placing the presents on a nearby table. Now I was out in the open.

"So this is the decent one?" one of the younger lads said to break the silence.

"Ronald Weasley, you mind your manners!" the woman scolded him."Don't mind him dear, it's lovely to meet you. Harry has never stopped talking about you."

"He's right though," Harry said,"this is the nice one."

"It's nice to see that Harry stayed in such a lovely place, and with lovely people."

Really (Y/N)? That's the first thing you come out with?

"Oh what a sweetheart." the woman gushed."Believe me, they look like angels, but they don't act like one."

Harry soon broke us into a general conversation, attempting to introduce me to everyone. This family was so different to mine. It felt more loving, as if they didn't hate to be around each other all the time. They included each other in every conversation, they laughed together, joked around with each other. And they also included me.

We were sat around a long table, squeezed amongst one another with food and drink laid out. I had Harry one side of me, and his old friend Hermione on my other. I believed that she and Ron had romantic connections, but I was hoping she would shed some light on Harry's love life, as Ginny was sat beside him.

"They've only recently become public. Everyone knew that they were together, it was bound to happen. But we all acted surprised anyway." Hermione and I giggled, drowned out by the sound of everyone talking.

"Oh bless him, he seemed very happy when he mentioned her. That's why he invited me actually, he was wondering what I would think about her. They don't seem to be able to keep their eyes off each other."

"Someone else seems to have their eyes on someone." she smirked.

I followed her eye line, seeing one of the twins looking in our direction before averting their gaze. I had remembered that they were each wearing the same jumper but with different colours, thankfully making it easier to tell them apart. It had been Fred looking my way, and I hated that I was blushing already; no one had looked at me like that for a long time.

"I'm sure that was nothing." I mumbled.

"If you say so." I heard Ginny say, making me whip my head round to her. She was leaning forward to look at me, and I saw Harry holding back a laugh.

"Come on, I haven't even spoken to him."

"Maybe you should. Perhaps this was meant to happen."

Molly stopped all chatter across the table, standing up to announce that it was present time. Heaps of presents were pushed down to our end of the table, Harry was shocked by how many there were, but stuck right in. After thanking all of the Weasley’s for their sweet presents, especially Ginny. With my presents left, I felt all eyes on me, nervous as to what they would think of my gifts.

One was a collection of books he read when he was younger (until my brother got angry at him and ripped out the pages), the other was two shirts I knew would look nice on him. The last present was a photo book, which I had had personalised; on the front it said ‘Harry’s Memories’, in a beautiful swirling style of writing. The toothy grin on his face fell slightly, and I began to panic again. Everyone waited for him to open the book, a slight tension in the air. Harry slowly opened the book, reading the message I had left for him in his head. It entailed fond memories we had, and how proud I was of him for setting out to school by himself, and how many times he was brave enough to put himself on the line for his friends and family. Turning the next page, a breathless laugh left his lips when he saw the photos I chose. Unfortunately there weren’t many of us together, or of him in general, but I had raided our old cameras back home to find any photos I had taken of him without my parent’s knowledge. After flipping over another page that turned out to be blank, he looked up at me, as did everyone else.

“It’s blank so that you can fill it. I knew you wouldn’t want memories of home, just...just me I suppose. But I’m sure you’ve got better memories to put in there now.” I shyly explained.

“This is amazing, thank you (Y/N).” Harry said, hugging me tightly.

“The pictures aren’t moving?” Ginny questioned.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion.“Your pictures move?”

Once dinner was done with, along with a round of singing as the birthday cake came out, we all broke off into smaller groups. This would have given me an opportunity to speak to Ginny, I had a strong feeling that she was absolutely perfect for him, they seemed well matched, but I still wanted a chat at least. However, Harry had stolen her away, and it wasn’t the right time to intervene. As I thought about who to talk to, Fred walked up to me, leaning against the kitchen counter top as I was.

“Thought you looked a little lonely over here.” he said, but it wasn’t in a cocky way, he was being genuinely kind. 

“Thanks.” I laughed.

He smiled.“I-I didn’t mean it like that.”

I looked up at him.“No I know what you meant. I was actually thanking you.”

“Ah.”

There was a moment of silence as neither of us were sure what to say next. Suddenly, something popped into my mind,“You know, I’ve seen you before.”

“What?”

“When you came to rescue Harry, in your flying car. I was in my room, but my room was next to Harry’s, so I could just about see you and your brothers.”

“That was so many years ago.”

I nodded.“I just remember how shocked I was when I saw the car, but also how relieved I felt when I saw Harry get in there. I was in trouble for not going to my parents straight away though.”

“You don’t sound like a typical Dursley at all.”

“I suppose I’m not. I was never the favourite, for some reason Dudley was. But I was so focused on keeping Harry somewhat happy that it didn’t matter. I just got good results at school, made friends and kept the biggest secret in the world.”

“It is slightly strange having a Muggle about.”

“How do you think I feel? The dishes are doing themselves over there!” I gestured to the sink where there was a floating plate and sponge. He laughed at that."That would be so useful to have at home, especially after a long day."

"So," he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards me,"what do you think about our families combining?"

I took a sip of my drink, following his eye line to Harry and Ginny."I can't express how happy I am for him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And I'm not just saying nice things because Ginny is your sister. Harry had a long talk about what happened in the past, he's mentioned her, well, all of you, a lot. You've all been able to give him much more than I have."

"That's not true. Harry has expressed multiple times how he didn't know what he would have done if you weren't there for him."

"Seems like everything has worked out perfectly in the end. It even feels right me being here."

"I can agree on that."

"Even if I'm a Muggle?"

"Can't say that's the first thing I noticed about you."

My eyes widened slightly, slowly looking down into the content of my cup."Fred, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were flirting with me."

"Thank god you noticed, thought I might have to start using pick up lines."

"You still can if you want to."

"Nah, think I'll save that for a first date."

"If you're asking, then the answer would be a yes."

"Well, glad that's been sorted."

I giggled quietly, trying not to show how much I was enjoying this."Do I get to find out where you're taking me?"

"If I'm honest, I wasn't sure if I would get this far."

We laughed together, catching the attention of his parents who were with Hermione and Ron. We quietened down, finding it hard to hold back on giggling. Before we could even continue speaking, Harry was approaching me, and I knew he wanted to find out what had happened since he left me alone.

"So, uh, what are you two talking about?" Harry failed to play dumb.

I rolled my eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder."OK, whilst you interrogate my date, I'll go talk to your girlfriend. Sound like a deal?"

"D-date?"

"Don't act like you weren't listening. Relax Harry, this is your party after all."

I heard him sigh to Fred as I walked away."You two are going to be trouble, I just know it."

[niallloverontheloose]

"Learning the Lesson"

https://princeescaluswords.tumblr.com/post/659414877042016256/learning-the-lesson

@princeescaluswords: 

Parts of the fandom have often expressed an irrational rage when it comes to the question “why didn’t Scott trust Derek with the secret of Gerard’s cancer and his plan to turn Gerard’s plan to have Derek bite him against him?”  

Allow me to provide some insight on Scott’s motivations. 

At the beginning of Master Plan (2x12), Scott has been waiting with Isaac for the police, Coach, and the other lacrosse players to leave so he can rip the door off Stiles locker in order to get things for him and Isaac with which to track Stiles down. So who should show up at that point but Derek and Peter.  

Allow me to reproduce a snippet of that conversation.

Scott: What the hell is this?

Derek: You know, I thought the same thing when I saw you talking to Gerard at the sheriff’s station. 

Scott: Okay, hold on. He - he threatened to kill my mom. And I had to get close to him. What was I supposed to do? 

Peter: I’m gonna go with Scott on this one. Have you seen his mom? She’s gorgeous. 

Derek/Scott: Shut up.

Isaac: Who is he? 

Scott: That’s Peter, Derek’s Uncle. Little while back, he tried to kill us all, and then we set him on fire, and Derek slashed his throat. 

Peter: Hi. 

Isaac: That’s good to know. 

Scott: How is he alive? 

Derek: Look, the short version is he knows how to stop Jackson. And maybe how to save him.

In case you forgot, this isn’t the first time that Derek has surprised Scott in the locker room by being in the company of Peter.

Now, Co-Captain (1x10) may have been a year before to the viewing audience, but to the characters here, Derek’s betrayal and brutal violation of Scott in the very same place the present conversation is occurring with the very same person happened somewhere at the beginning or middle of February of 2011 and this is taking place at the end of March 2011, a week or so after Lydia’s birthday party. So that scene in Co-Captain took place six to eight weeks before.

So, suddenly Derek is once again teaming up with Peter, the person – if anyone needed reminding – who not only threatened the life of Scott’s mother, but also his best friend, his girl friend, and anyone Scott was connected to, but also murdered eight people; savaged Lydia; transformed Scott against his will and violated his mind repeatedly, trying to get him to kill his friends. But hey, Scott should so totally trust Derek, right? Right? Right?     

I also would like to point out a few other things in this scene that just might suggest that Scott was right not to trust Derek with his Master Plan. When Derek brings up his realization that Scott was seemingly working with Gerard, Scott explains that he was doing it under duress (which he was!) and he was doing it to get close to Gerard (which he did!). Let’s compare that to what Derek said when Scott demanded an explanation in Co-Captain:

Scott: You’re on his side? Are you forgetting the part where he killed your sister?

Derek: It was a mistake. 

Scott: What? 

Derek: It happens.

There’s a significant difference in these lines, isn’t there? Scott is working with Gerard to stop him and to protect his mother, and Derek worked with Peter because, well, he can understand how mistakes were made.

But hey, Scott, should so totally trust Derek, right? Right? Right?

I also want to point out that Isaac doesn’t know anything about Peter. Not that this should be a news flash to anyone, but Derek hasn’t been particularly forthcoming with his betas about what happened in the SIX WEEKS before he bit them. He says he told them about the hunters, but did he give them the full story about why the hunters were in town? About how he got his alpha abilities? Did he say “Yeah, my uncle became the alpha by murdering my sister and then I became an alpha by murdering him; this is normal in werewolf society – promotion by murder. Wanna join?”   

Isaac’s face on the words “That’s good to know” certainly implies it would have been better for him to know this before he said yes to the Bite, don’t you think? Is anyone shocked that in a little over six months, Isaac’s going to have to demand that Derek explain why he did this to them? I’m not.  

On the other hand, contrary to what thousands of Sterek shippers believe, Stiles never had to ask about what happened to Gerard. He was never surprised by Gerard still being alive and he certainly didn’t demand an explanation about why Scott did what he did. It’s almost as if he already knew about it and didn’t care. We can’t be 100% sure, of course, but the fact that Isaac, Scott and Boyd all criticized Derek for not sharing information, but the fact that Stiles never even asked Scott about his Master Plan should mean something.

But hey, Scott, should so totally trust Derek, right?Right? Right?

So, let me wax dramatic for a moment and paraphrase the last part of that first exchange.  

Scott: You’ve sided with your murderous uncle again? You asked for my help and then started working with the man who tormented me and everyone I loved the moment he came back from the grave? Did you lie to me about him being dead? Did you help him come back?

Derek: I have neither the time nor the interest to explain myself to you. I’m the alpha, so just suck it up and do what I tell you. When it is in the interest of the greater good, I don’t have to answer to anyone.

Scott: Is that how werewolves work? If you have a good enough reason, you can do what’s necessary without even an apology. Thanks for the lesson, Derek. Keep what you just taught me in mind for about… thirty minutes, okay? It might be useful to you.

If Scott was a terrible person for not revealing the cancer and the mountain ash trick as a way of stopping Gerard’s plan to get the Bite and hurting Derek’s feelings, then maybe fandom might want to consider that he learned his lesson at the feet of the master of concealing information and ignoring other people’s feelings, Derek Hale. Derek has zero room to complain, which to his credit, he never does.

~*~*~

This whole post is so fundamentally wrong, vile and disgusting on so many levels I don't even know where to begin, to be honest... 

We all know the Scott McCall Defense Squad bunch have an obsessive hate boner for Stiles and the Hales and think Scott repeatedly lying to everyone around him, conspiring with Gerard behind everyone's back, selling Derek and his Pack out to the hunters, handing both Matt and Jackson over to Gerard to save his own ass, giving Gerard all the information Gerard wanted on Derek and his Pack, and violating a rape victim is heroic. But them stooping as low – lower than usual –as to claim that Scott "Had A Valid Reason"  to violate someone's boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent and that Scott used and dehumanised Derek to teach him a lesson and make him a better man is truly on a whole other level of vileness and rape apologism. It's victim blaming at its grossest. The Teen Wolf fandom always talk about Scott McCall's abusive tendencies and behaviour, his toxic masculinity, and his utter lack of empathy; but his fans are even more toxic than him

The only difference is that Scott McCall is a fictional bully, while his fans are real ones 

[yslkook]

Unattainable

pairing: jimin x reader (fwb au) summary: it's 2 AM and your thoughts are filled with nothing but jimin. he thinks you're too good for him- you deserve better than him and his broken heart. (imagine THIS jimin) word count: 1.4k warnings: masturbation, facetime sex, some thoughts of self-deprecation a/n: written for ms hana @cutechim !! happy birthday to my dear friend<33 it was only fitting for the first jimin fic i ever wrote to be written for hana's bday. i hope u enjoy<3 and thank u to @jinpanman for reading this!

It’s nearly 2 AM but Jimin can’t sleep. Because you can’t sleep, and you’re currently fumbling with the buttons on your satin pajama top with shaky, clumsy fingers.

Jimin doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. You’re cute, really, you are. You glare at him, admonishing him through the screen, hoping that he can feel your irateness through the laptop.

It’s taken him a long time to convince you to get to this point. Well, it wasn’t so much as convincing as it was you becoming more comfortable and attached to him in this way. You had been so shy in the beginning, trembling under his arms with heated cheeks as each pass of his fingers would stroke your skin.

But this had been your idea. Jimin reminds you frequently of this. You were the one who had approached him shortly after another birthday, fragments of desire and the nebula of an idea on the tip of your tongue.

You had been nearly in tears, tired of convincing yourself that you were okay with being so incredibly seemingly undesirable. With your birthday just passing on the horizon, it had felt as though every single ounce of self-worth had come crashing down on you.

It didn’t help that everyone around you were either in long-term relationships or engaged or married.

You just wanted someone to hold you, to maybe look at you in a way that stole your breath right from your throat. You wanted someone to teach you all of the things you never learned, someone to teach you how to kiss. How to love.

Was it a good idea? To spill your entire bleeding, delicate heart out to Jimin, to your oldest friend? Your oldest friend who you’ve always had a small crush on but never acted on because he has always seemed so unattainable, ethereal in that way?

You would say yes, that it was worth it. Because maybe even if he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, having him like this is better than not having him at all-

“Help me,” You plead. You’re not above begging him and Jimin’s always had trouble saying no to you. You’ve always been unattainable to him, so brilliant and kind. When all he knew how to do was hurt, hurt, and hurt those around him. He’s damaged goods, rough around the edges. Jimin often asks himself why you still stick around him, when you’re a diamond and he is nothing but a jagged stone.

“Help you? You want me to help you with what exactly…” Jimin drawls, “Use your words, princess.”

Your heart bursts. You can’t take it anymore.

“Kiss me,” You breathe, “Fuck me, love me. Any of it. All of it.”

“I can’t give you love,” Jimin says softly, “I’ll give you everything else. I’ll give you anything you want.”

He can’t give you his love, because you deserve better than his broken heart. But the rest, he can give you. If Jimin can make you happy in this way, then he’ll take it. He’ll take any ounce of your love that he can get, because he is a parasite and you are too good for him.

“Take your shirt off, princess,” Jimin nearly purrs, his eyes dark and expectant.

“If you weren’t so far away, you could do it for me,” You huff, trying to soothe your nerves. He laughs, the sound gentle and musical.

“You’ll like this, I know you will,” He says. His voice is smooth and sure, soft and firm. Enticing, like a honey you always want a taste of.

“Okay,” You shrug, “I trust you.”

It surprises him every time. Despite your many years of friendship and through his many mishaps in nearly all facets of his life, you still trust him.

“Tilt the screen down a little more, I can’t see your face,” Jimin says. When you do as he says, he smiles widely with crescent eyes. “There you go.”

He looks especially handsome tonight, his brown hair falling effortlessly into his eyes. Somehow he always looks good, no matter the hour or time of day. Rings adorn his lithe fingers.

You can vividly remember where his fingers had been just a few nights ago- buried deep in you, pulling wet, squelching sounds from your pussy and breathy moans from your lips. Despite your embarrassment over the sounds you didn’t even know you were capable of making, Jimin had reassured you that he found you breathtaking.

“You got something to show me, princess?” Jimin says, giving you a knowing grin. He leans in closer to the camera on his laptop, trying to see as much of you as he can. It’s his own fault that you’re unable to sleep.

After all, he’s the one who had sent you an audio file of him touching himself while moaning your name breathlessly, telling you exactly what he was thinking while he teased himself. Your name sounded like the sweetest poison on his tongue but you chase the feeling, and you chase him.

Jimin is sweet and protective, he always has been. With you at least. You’re his princess, after all. Despite what people think of him, what people have thought of him… You’ve always been around with open arms, an open heart, and now, open legs.

“I’m nervous,” You admit softly, “I’ve never done this before.”

“I know,” Jimin acknowledges, “But it’s just me and I’ve got you. If you don’t want to-”

“No! I want to. And I,” You pause and sigh heavily, “I want this to be with you.”

“You can say no whenever you want,” He says, as he always does. You nod in understanding and part your legs for him to see. Jimin swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He smiles at you through the screen as he leans forward even more, the necklace you had bought for him on his birthday bouncing along the base of his neck.

You salivate at the sight of his collarbones. You’re a simple girl. Jimin’s room is dimly lit, the pale glow of the lamp behind him illuminating the sharp planes of his pretty face. Pretty. Everything about him is angelic, even if he would say otherwise.

“Jimin,” You murmur, fingers dancing dangerously close to the hem of your white panties. He sucks in an audible breath, his eyes narrowing at the wet patch sitting pretty on your panties. You slip your hand into your panties, lazily stroking your slit as you watch him.

“Look how wet you made me,” You coo. Jimin nearly scoffs- he’s made a demon out of you. A year ago, the words spilling from your lips would’ve had you flustered and shy. And now here you were, presenting your glossy folds as if you were wrapped up in white lace just for his eyes.

You were, and you both knew it. Jimin loves this side of you, loves that he’s opened you up. Like his very own lotus, your petals slick with shiny need for him. For him.

He’s selfish and he loves that he’s the only one who’s seen you like this. That you’re the only one who had given him this chance. That you listen so willingly, so eagerly.

It makes his cock stir. He palms himself over his shorts, moaning to himself quietly. “Lemme see you, princess,” Jimin says, spreading his legs, “Come closer.”

You shift a little closer to the laptop so he can watch you with wide eyes as you slip out of your panties and toss them to the side. He softly tells you to spread your legs further, to touch yourself for him.

His mouth waters, when you tease yourself before finally allowing your index finger to rub your clit slowly. “What are you thinking about, princess,” Jimin breathes, “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

“That I miss you,” You mumble, rolling your hips into your hand, “Wish you were here.”

“Finger yourself, princess,” Jimin demands softly, “You wish it were me?”

“Y-yeah,” You nod eagerly, “Always wish it were you.”

His words are filthy, longing dripping off of the ends of his words. Jimin tells you what to do, tells you what he’s doing- that’s stroking his cock to the sight of your sweet pussy. Jimin will even pretend for a little bit, fooling himself as he tells you to fuck yourself on the dildo hidden in a box full of trinkets that he’s gotten you over the last year.

He’s so full of delusions that he can’t help but merge his desire and reality- “Who’s pussy is this?” Jimin whispers, your moans increasing in pitch as your clit catches on the silicone of the already wet dildo.

“Yours,” You let the words slip out of your mouth purposely, “Always yours.”

tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle @jinpanman

[yeolmae-s]

a chanbaek analysis from a veteran exo-l (part 2)

CLICK HERE TO READ PART ONE

Writing this was a bit harder in comparison to the first part, because I wanted to organize things into a neat timeline, but I ended up not having enough patience for it lol specially because both of ChanBaek's main archive blogs seem to have deleted their pages documenting each date of EXO's early years. Therefore I apologize in advance if this part is a bit more messy. Also, please don't forget that all of this is my opinion and I don't mean for any of it to be taken as truth!

I kind of want to jump from MAMA era directly into Wolf era, since we don't really have a lot of cover regarding their debut phase besides Chanyeol's overeagerness and Baekhyun's awkwardness towards it, so to sum it up, I felt as if Chanyeol was more confident and consistent on what he thought an idol should act like, while Baekhyun (sweet, innocent Baekhyun who was a trainee for less than a year!) was still unsure on how to act on camera.

On the few early variety shows/interviews EXO appeared on, the members always pointed out how funny Baekhyun was, how good he'd be at variety and at doing imitations, but he never really lived up to all the praise on camera, although off of it, he most likely was as good as his members claimed.

He was a bit stiff on his early days in comparison to what we see today, and that's normal, I guess, since he debuted really quickly, but when you compare him to Chanyeol the contrast is so interesting, because the latter was able to latch on to a persona as soon as the public gave him one, while to me, Baekhyun was still doubtful regarding what to put on display. In the end, deep inside, Baekhyun is a private person, and was even more so when he wasn't confident enough to talk to fans like he does today.

Once again, I’m sorry for not being able to upload the gifs directly into the post, so I’ll just link them like I did on my last one.

This is another one of the moments where Baek appears to tell Chanyeol to just. Hold on for a bit.

There's another one similar to this where Chanyeol does the same thing (try to whisper on Baekhyun's ear) and Baekhyun fake laughs and stares at a fan's camera right after. Then, his expression just goes blank. It's really interesting to watch because you can just see the gears spinning on Chanyeol's brain as he stares at Baekhyun for a second and clearly thinks alright, fanservice time, and leans in to whisper something: it happens so fast you just know it wasn't genuine whispering, just a playful interaction for the fans, and Baekhyun's direct stare to the camera as soon as it happens just confirms this for me. 

1: Chanyeol spots his target.

2: He’s really thinking this through.

3: Baek's in a perfect position for whispering-time, so he leans in and does his thing.

4: Baekhyun laughs.

5: And stares directly at a fan's camera.

6: Immediately regrets his life choices. Chanyeol looks pleased.

It's actually better to watch the whole thing, so I'll leave it here. (starts on 0:28!)

(Random note: on this date EXO perfomed a cover of H.O.T's We Are The Future, and I feel like a lot of new EXO-Ls have not seem it and I adore this performance, so I'll link it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1-z4s3fdgo)

Now let's jump on to Wolf era, shall we?

Wolf era

I can't help but laugh when I think about how wild 2013 was for both EXO and EXO-Ls. They had their first hit song (which was Growl, not Wolf) the fandom grew considerably, shippers where just discovering the cute ISAC moments between "BaekYeol" and "HunHan"... Or at least that's how everyone remembers most of what happened during that year.

Are we forgetting the rumoured ChanBaek fight?

Considering their past interactions on airports, SMTOWN concerts, ISAC and other events, ChanBaek was now widely known to be close to each other. Baekhyun even said Chanyeol was the one who made him open up, and both of them mentioned feeling this "connection" to each other as soon as they met (although jokingly).

After Mama, the fandom was content-less for a considerable period of time, and what most people did was sharing around old performances and repeat overused memes.  I think that in every fandom there is a period where fans establish their main inside jokes and basically just get together to create a collective line of thought for perceiving their idols. That being said, one of the most well established facts in the fandom was that Chanyeol and Baekhyun were close. That was a fact.But then Wolf came, and they suddenly were not. 

This gif is a good example of how awkward their interactions were. Not even my delusional shipping brain in 2013 was able to come up with an explanation for it.

They simply did not acknowledge each other at all, and Chanyeol appeared to be closer to Kyungsoo (I think Baekhyun interacted a lot with Tao, but that may have been during the Growl era, not Wolf. As I said before, I'm a Chanyeol stan guys, sorry lmao).

Point is, these two boys who seemed to be best friends suddenly were clearly distant from one another.

What added fuel to the fire of the rumours was their appearance on Sukira, a radio show, where Sehun cried because the members sometimes had fights. Here's a fanacc:

[130530] EXO at Sukira

Sehun cried because the members sometimes fight.

Sehun: "Let's be loyal to each other, don't fight, and go until the end"

D.O: "We've been under a lot of stress lately because of the comeback, so I wish we won't fight in the future and do our best"

Here's a video cut of this part of their interview. 

I think this ask on lets-talk-baekyeol, a popular ChanBaek analysis blog from back in the day, shows how curious a lot of fans were.

What happened back then?

There's really no answer for that. On my opinion, not even Chanyeol or Baekhyun could give us a concrete answer on it, because I don't think an actual fight happened. For me, it was most likely a personality clash, a disagreement that probably wasn't even voiced out loud, just both of them noticing how uncomfortable things got, if Baekhyun's reactions to Chanyeol's fanservice is any indication. I somehow doubt there was a specific episode that created this distance between them, specially because during Growl, they went back to being friends, although not as touchy on camera as before, as if one of them had established their limits (oh, I wonder who!), but I still have this feeling that all of this was unspoken, because unspoken things seem to be a pattern on ChanBaek's relationship (something I'll touch on later, hopefully).

But it was during Growl era that I noticed something else about Baekhyun.

Wolf era

EXO'S Showtime was a such a gift. I recommend reading lets-talk-baekyeol's blog for this. I don't really agree with everything they say they do present a lot of relevant points. I may repeat them here, since I noticed them myself as well, but credits for them nonetheless.

I remember finding the lack of ChanBaek interactions during the episodes really dissappointing, but considering the Wolf Era drought, this was better than nothing.

My 13 year old self was devastated when Baekhyun appeared so quiet during Chanyeol's birthday episode, and during a recent rewatch of it, I think realized why.

Baekhyun doesn't like superficial things. It's not that Chanyeol is insincere, but he's just better than Baekhyun is at handling people pleasing, even when he doesn't really mean what's he saying/doing. The Chanyeol birthday episode was heavily centered on Chanyeol's random admiration for Kai, which I think we can all agree that it was a little bit scripted or a really spur of the moment thing that they just ran along with and oh man. Baekhyun did not want to be part of it.

During ChanKai's hug, this is what he looked like on the background, and the poor boy even refused to eat cake. He's just in the back, which is weird, because he's such a talkative person and Chanyeol is one of his closest friends. The only moment where he seems to be genuinely comfortable is when Chanyeol blows the candle and it's really cute. To me, it seems that he was kind of embarrassed to witness so much acting from everyone else and was unable to participate because he struggles with things like this, but the moment Chanyeol blows his candles to comemorate his birthday seems sincere enough for him to fondly smile.

This ties in so well with everything from Mama Era. He's just unable to keep acting/people pleasing on the same easy way that Chanyeol does, but this time he's not as nervous about it as he was on his earlier-early days, where he probably felt pressured to actually do stuff. Now he just doesn't do **it, he just doesn't do something that he dislikes doing, and that sadly creates a distance between them on camera and probably on a deeper level in their relationship as well, because both are just realizing how different their perceptions over their jobs is.

There's also this moment that the mods on lets-talk-baekyeol pointed out.

On the Christmas episode, when the members leave the couch to go get their presents, Chanyeol stays seated while Baekhyun gets up to fetch his. This is the sitting arrangement before (almost) everyone got up:

But when Baekhyun comes back, there's free space next to Chanyeol, however he's hesitant to sit by his side. He actually hesitates and doesn't sit down. Jongdae even gives him a little push right after.

Baek just seems hesitant to do things on camera, to interact with Chanyeol in front of an audience. For this moment, I feel like he's afraid to sit next to Chanyeol and end up having to over act. It's not that Chanyeol himself makes him uncomfortable, but the image of the friendship that they ended up creating for fans demands a lot from him.

And when I say hesitant to do things on camera, I really do mean it, because when Baekhyun thinks he is not being recorded/seen, here's what he does:

Here and here.

Their relationship clearly changed, and I think the reason for it is actually simple: both of them were under the impression that they were compatible with each other when they actually were not. Their personalities are extremely different, even if the way they present themselves is sometimes similar. Wolf and Growl era was our way, as fans, of watching them navigate around each other and finding out how their relationship was supposed to work.

And you know what's nice about that? The members watched all of it unfold. Their reactions to some of ChanBaek's interaction is a gold mine when it comes to analyzing them, because they clearly know, just as we do, that their relationship is kind of complicated. But I want to talk about it on the next part.

I am sorry for cutting this off again! I don't know if the next part is going to be the last, because after Growl there's Overdose and we all know what happened on 2014 [coughs] dating scandal [coughs] god help me I don't want to talk about it [coughs] so there's a lot to uncover and I need time to organize stuff.

Thank you for reading!