#the hardest part was Not his nose to my surprise but his Tie

[shootsun]

Mr Postman I've got a letter for you!!

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 20: "This Isn't Goodbye"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 4.3k

[You can find the full series summary and masterlist of installments for All These Years here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut [Comfort now exists in this series!!]

a/n: This one happens to be a little bittersweet. Feedback is always appreciated!

Sitting opposite Matt at the table, you couldn't help but stare at the restaurant around you. Your eyes scanned over every inch of the romantic and dimly lit space, combing the exposed brick and the stunning large photographs of the Italian countryside hanging on the wall. Despite the fact that you’d been seated for the past couple of minutes and trying to focus on looking over the wine list for something to order, it was still hard for you to believe that this was where Matt had wanted to take you on a first date. 

The sound of him clearing his throat drew your attention back towards him. He was adjusting his glasses along his nose, a small smile on his lips. You couldn’t help but blush, aware that he’d noticed you surveying the place. You’d tried your hardest to hide your surprise when the taxi had initially dropped you both off here, but you’d ultimately stopped in your tracks on the sidewalk, eyes widening in shock when you realized just where you were. Even as you’d followed Matt inside, guiding him to the table that the hostess had seated you both at, you’d quietly gnawed on your lip, wondering if he’d chosen this place because of the reason you thought he might have.

“You’re staring,” Matt pointed out. “And I’m guessing it’s not at me.”

“Right, sorry,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Fingers tightening around the wine list in your hands, you glanced back down at it. Though it was hard to ignore the way Matt was intensely focused on you from across the table right now. Especially when you could see his smile growing a bit out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s the restaurant,” he said slowly, something undecipherable in his tone. “You thought I forgot about that night, didn’t you?”

Your eyes darted up as you looked at Matt from beneath your lashes. Briefly your heart skipped in your chest at the sight of him across from you. He looked absolutely handsome in his blue dress shirt and navy tie with his hair neatly combed. He had certainly grown more attractive over the years since you’d first met him back in college, especially with that faint bit of stubble that was always on his face which you craved to feel between your thighs. But you could still see the Matt you’d always known underneath that grown exterior– your Matty from the days back at Columbia.

“Yeah,” you admitted, lowering the menu to the table. “I was wondering if–if that’s why you picked this place.”

He nodded slowly, his covered gaze fixed on you. You knew he was completely focused on you right now, entirely tuned into you in a way that no one else could ever be–you could practically feel the way he was studying you with his senses. And that had you clasping your hands together, nervously fidgeting with them on the table as you crossed your legs under it, your foot anxiously bouncing up and down. 

“It is,” he answered. “I never forgot that night. I remember how you’d been upset when you’d showed up at our dorm, bringing over more beer than usual for our Saturday nights. Having already drank one on the way over, too. And if you remember, I’d actually been planning to go out that night,” he told you. “I’d had a date. But when I felt how upset you were the moment you stepped into the room–tasted your tears in the air–” he broke off, shaking his head. “I stepped out of the room and canceled my plans for the night immediately. Knew without a doubt that I wanted to be there with you instead.”

Eyebrows shooting up onto your forehead, you straightened in your seat. “I–I thought you’d told Foggy and I that you’d been canceled on?” 

His smile softened as he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I lied. You were upset and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. Though I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the reasoning as to why you’d been crying.”

“Jacob Kowalski,” you whispered the name, glancing just over Matt’s shoulder as that night came rushing back to you. “I’d ran into him on campus when I was heading out to grab beer for the night and he’d…said some shitty things to me.”

Out of your peripheral you noticed the way Matt had tensed across the table. The corner of his lips had curved downwards, his hands curling into fists along the table as he nodded back at you.

“I remember,” Matt murmured.

Your eyes continued to roam the restaurant, taking in the decor as the memories continued to flood back. “He had asked me out over winter break,” you continued softly. “The winter break right before I’d met you and Fog. And he’d stood me up.” Inhaling a quivering breath, your focus finally returned to Matt. “Here. At Bella Via.”

That soft smile reappeared on his face as soon as he felt your eyes on him. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth at the sight. 

“I refrained from seeking him out and knocking him on his ass for what he said to you that night. And believe me, that was difficult,” Matt admitted with a faint laugh. “But I did happen to run into him in the dining hall the next morning. Might’ve accidentally tripped him with my cane. Might have also been the cause of him spilling hot coffee all over himself.”

Matt shrugged innocently, his smile growing as you threw a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. You’d had no idea that had happened. Foggy had certainly never told you about that.

“Not like I could see where I was going or anything,” Matt said, a mischievous grin on his lips. 

“I didn’t know that,” you replied.

“Well,” Matt began, leaning back in his seat, “if you remember that night despite how much you’d ended up drinking, you might remember that I promised you that someday you’d be asked back out to this very restaurant and you’d have better memories to replace those awful ones with."

Your hands continued to fidget together on the table, listening as Matt spoke. Faintly you recalled that night, the feel of Matt's arms wrapped around your shoulders and his soft voice whispering things into your ear.

"Truthfully I had always intended to be the one asking you to come here when I had said that," he confessed, his smile turning timid. "If it ever seemed like you’d actually say yes to me, that is.” He cleared his throat, his attention dropping uncharacteristically shyly down towards the table. “I always told myself that I wanted to give you better memories of this place. Because you deserved better than that. Always hoped I’d eventually be the one to take you out, but over time it…sort of seemed like you’d never get over Fog. So I never had my chance.” His hand reached up, readjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose like a nervous fidget of his own. “Granted, I now know how incredibly stupid and wrong I was back then about that, but the idea of taking you here as our first date never left my mind. So…that’s ultimately why I chose this place tonight. Been a few years in the making but–” he shrugged again, sending you a sheepish smile, “–here we are.”

Your right hand tightened over your left, your breath catching in your throat at his explanation. You could hardly believe what he’d just told you. No one had ever put that much effort and thought into a date with you before, especially not so early in a relationship–or whatever this was, which was something you still needed to discuss tonight. 

“You’d been thinking about taking me here all this time?” you whispered in awe.

“Yeah,” he answered, the sheepish smile still on his face. “After graduation I sometimes imagined taking you to some other, nicer restaurants. Thought about trying to impress you. But this one always just felt…right. But I–I hope you don’t mind that this is where I picked.” Shifting in his seat, he added, “We can certainly go somewhere else–anywhere else–if being here makes you uncomfortable.”

“No,” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, I think it’s perfect. You’re right, I could certainly do with better memories of this place. And you’d be the only one I could think of who I could make them with. Especially after I drunkenly cried on you all night about being stood up here.” 

“I didn’t mind,” he told you softly. Abruptly his head canted to the side, his lips thinning out. “Well, take that back,” he said. “I minded that you were upset and had been treated so poorly, but I didn’t mind being there for you. Or letting you drunkenly cry on me.” He sent you a boyish grin now, the shyness fading away. “You’re always welcome to cry on me, inebriated or otherwise, though I vastly prefer to hear you happy.”

You bit back the smile forming on your lips, fingers now toying with the silverware on the table. Something about everything he’d said to you, not just tonight but every day since you’d both confessed your feelings, was suddenly stirring forth a strong emotion in your chest. One you had never felt quite this intensely before. Blinking hard a few times, you felt like you were about to be overcome with your emotions sitting there in the middle of the restaurant. Your gaze dropped down to your hands as you tried to fight back the tears. 

More than anything, you desperately wished you didn’t have to catch a flight to LA tomorrow morning.

“Did I…say something wrong?” Matt asked cautiously.

Head darting back up in surprise at his strained tone, you saw the frown back on Matt’s lips. He had leaned forward towards you, anxiously wringing his hands on top of the table. 

“What?” you asked in surprise.

“You’re fidgeting with your fork,” he said, gesturing towards your hands. “And it seems like you’re about to cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I–”

“No,” you said, cutting him off and shaking your head roughly. “No, Matt, you didn’t do anything wrong I just–just–” you broke off, inhaling a sharp breath. 

You just wished you could tell him you loved him and stay here, in Hell’s Kitchen with him, instead of going to the airport tomorrow morning.

“What’s wrong then?” he asked gently.

Matt’s hand slid across the table, seeking out yours. When he found it, he grasped it firmly in his, drawing it away from the fork you’d been fidgeting with. You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to blurt out what was entirely on your mind. But this was not the time, nor the way you’d ever want to tell him that if you ever told him that.

“I don’t want to say goodbye tomorrow,” you told him instead, the tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know if I can do it again. If I can say goodbye again.”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you gently, hand squeezing around yours. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Let’s not think about that tonight. We have the rest of the evening to spend together, right? You’re not leaving just yet, so let's just enjoy the night.”

You nodded, though you could see the tension that had slipped into Matt’s shoulders at the reminder of your departure tomorrow. He didn’t want you to leave, either. Of course he never expressly said it to you, probably because he didn’t want to upset you with his own emotional pain–a very Matthew Murdock move–but you could see it on his face and in his eyes over the past couple of days. 

You wiped the back of your hand across your eyes, drying away a few stray tears. “So uh, not to be so blunt, but what exactly are we, Matt?” you asked him nervously.

His head tilted to the side at your question. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you know,” you said, shrugging lightly. “Are we a couple? Or…what is this? What are we doing?”

“Is that what you want?” he asked curiously. “To be my girlfriend?”

“Is that what you want?” you questioned him back. “You’re the notorious serial dater. Among…other things.”

Matt straightened in his chair, his other hand reaching up and removing his glasses from his face. He set them down onto the table and out of his way, his sightless gaze fixing almost on you. The emotion in his hazel eyes was hard to miss. 

“I have wanted you for years,” he told you earnestly, entwining his fingers with yours. “I have never stopped wanting you. I’m–I’m not sure I ever could,” he confessed.

You inhaled a sharp breath, holding it in as you listened to him with rapt attention. A warm, buzzing sensation was beginning to make its way through your body as Matt continued, your jaw clamping shut to keep you from shouting ‘I love you’ at him right now.

“I know you still live far from Hell’s Kitchen and it's not an ideal situation for either of us,” he continued. “But I want to try to find a way to make this work. I want to make this work. Because I want you. So yes, that’s what I want, if that’s what you want, too.”

Your hand squeezed his as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. “Yes, that's definitely what I want, Matty,” you replied, nodding slowly. A grin gradually began to spread across your lips as you asked, “So does that mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

The smile that broke out across his face had you almost melting on the spot. It was utterly breathtaking just sitting across from him witnessing how his entire face had lit up at your question. It was even more difficult to believe that man wanted you as much as he’d just expressed.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he said. “And I guess that means you’re finally mine .”

If there hadn’t been a table between the pair of you, and if neither of you had been in a public setting at the moment, you’d surely have thrown yourself at him the moment Matt called you his. The corner of his lips tugged slightly higher, as if he’d noticed the way your pulse had jumped at the slight possessiveness in his sentiment.

“Well,” you said, cheeks heating as you focused back on the wine list, “I’d say you’re doing a great job helping me make better memories here already, Matty.”

“Mmm,” he purred back, “I do aim to please, sweetheart.”

Eyes widening, you forced yourself to keep your attention on the wine list. You were certain you wouldn’t be able to handle the look he was shooting you across the table right now if you didn’t.

Standing in front of the building's door, your eyes lingered on the sign that read ‘Nelson & Murdock’ just beside it as you readjusted your grip on your luggage. You felt like you were going to be sick, your stomach twisting and churning repeatedly. You didn't want to do this, not again, not after the past few wonderful days you'd just had with Matt. 

It didn’t help that you knew Matt was inside the office right now, probably listening to all the sounds of your body outside on the sidewalk as you worked up the courage to stop in and say goodbye. You wondered if your sadness and reluctance to leave Hell’s Kitchen was something he could palpably feel, amplified by his senses. Would that hurt him even more than just experiencing his own pain at the prospect of you leaving again?

Eyes snapping shut, you threw a hand over your mouth and tried to fight back tears as a soft whine muffled against your palm. That thought certainly didn’t help the situation right now. How awful must Matt be feeling if he could experience your heart breaking as well as his own right now?

But you didn’t have time to spiral into a breakdown on the sidewalk at the moment. You’d given yourself about twenty minutes to come here and say goodbye to your friends and Matt before you needed to grab a taxi and head to the airport. If you stood here crying, you’d only have less time with Matt, and you knew it wouldn’t be a short goodbye with him. 

You rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes, trying to shove the tears back. Taking a moment, you attempted to regain your composure and take a calming breath. Exhaling it slowly, you reached a hand out and opened the door, finally making your way into the building and through the maze of a hallway with your luggage in toe. 

When you found yourself standing in front of their office door, your eyes reading Matt and Foggy’s last names on the frosted glass, you felt the tears threatening to fall again. Sniffling lightly, you cleared your throat and raised your hand, about to knock. Though you startled when the door swung open, revealing Matt smiling warmly down at you.

"Hey, sweetheart," he greeted softly. "Come on in, Karen and Foggy are just in the conference room."

Stepping past him, you made your way into their office, rolling your suitcase inside with you. You noticed that it looked a bit different since the last time you’d been in here. Things seemed a bit more organized, no doubt thanks to Karen. Though there were plenty of folders stuffed with papers piled high on her desk. In the room nearby, you could see Karen and Foggy huddled together over the large conference table talking animatedly.

Matt’s hand gently landed on the small of your back as he came up beside you, the weight of his palm reassuring even over the thickness of your winter coat. He called out to Karen and Foggy and you watched as the pair of them immediately quieted, both of their heads darting in your direction. The moment they spotted you they were rising to their feet, though Foggy was practically sprinting out of the conference room and over towards you, the sight of which caused you to laugh.

“I’m so glad you were able to stop by before you left!” he exclaimed, immediately wrapping you in a bear hug. “I’d have been so upset with you if you hadn’t!”

You squeezed Foggy back, desperately trying to ignore the sadness stirring within you. “Of course I wouldn’t leave you without saying goodbye,” you assured him. “What kind of best friend do you think I am?”

“Only the best kind,” he said, pulling away from you. “Though you lose points for moving so far to begin with.”

You sent him a sad smile as Karen approached you next, maneuvering past Foggy. She was quick to wrap you in a hug and you easily returned it. 

“You’re going to kick so much ass in law school this semester,” you told her. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

“Well you know I’ll certainly be bitching to you like I did last semester,” she said, pulling away from you before tucking some blonde hair behind her ear. “I mean, if you’re still willing to listen to me vent.”

You grinned back at her, nodding. “Always willing to pour a few glasses of wine with you and bitch, Kare. You know that,” you told her.

Foggy immediately held up a hand, his brows knitting together as he glanced back and forth between you and Karen. You quirked a brow curiously at him in return.

“Wait, how come I wasn’t invited to this bitch-a-thon?” he asked.

Karen rolled her eyes at Fog, a smile on her face. “What do you have to bitch about, Foggy?” she asked him.

Foggy’s eyes grew wide at the question before he roughly waved a hand in Matt’s direction. You struggled to fight back a laugh when Matt’s expression darkened instantly.

“Okay, I know you’re gesturing to me, Fog,” he said flatly. “And that’s not funny.”

“Well neither is the way you go out doing gymnastics on rooftops late at night!” he countered. “Always giving me heart attacks with your phone calls about needing help!”

“I don’t always need help,” Matt argued.

Karen held up a hand between both men, quickly quieting them down just before Foggy could speak. He closed his mouth, frowning back at her.

“Hey,” she said, focusing on Foggy at her side, “how about you and I step out and make a coffee run? Let these two have a minute to say goodbye instead of making her listen to you bicker like an old married couple.”

“We do not,” Matt muttered.

Foggy sighed, glancing back over at you and sending you a sad smile. You already felt your heart sinking to your stomach, but you knew saying goodbye to Matt was going to completely pulverize it into the floor of the office next.

“Yeah, alright,” Foggy agreed softly. “You shoot me a text when you get back to your place, okay?” he asked you.

“Alright, mom ,” you teased him.

Foggy shot you a playful glare as Karen grabbed their coats and Matt’s coffee order. Then the pair were leaving the office, waving and saying goodbye one last time before they closed the door after themselves. 

And then it was just you and Matt.

It wasn’t long after the office door shut before you felt the sting of tears in your eyes again. Dropping your duffle bag to the floor with an audible thump , you swiftly turned towards Matt. He’d been about to say something, having just opened his mouth as his sad gaze landed on your shoulder, but you’d flung yourself at him and cut him off before he’d even begun to speak. 

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you buried your face into his shoulder, unable to stop the tears that started the moment his strong arms encircled you in return. You felt him bury his face against the top of your head, lightly shushing you as he held you close. The tears somehow only fell faster and harder, your fingers tightening their hold on Matt's dress shirt as if that alone could stop the inevitable.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair. “Everything’ll be alright.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” you whispered, uncaring of how childish you sounded right now. “I just finally got you in my life, Matty. The way I’d always wanted and it’s–it’s not fair that I have to leave .”

“Hey,” he whispered, withdrawing his face from your hair, “look at me, sweetheart.”

Sniffling, you reluctantly drew back from his dress shirt, though your fingers didn't loosen their hold on it. You could see a noticeable damp spot from your tears on the fabric of it, right above his heart. Gradually your gaze began to slide up towards his, Matt’s handsome and smiling face meeting your sight. Though you could tell it was a sad smile and that he was struggling to keep his own emotions in check right now with the way his lips twitched, as if he was fighting the tremble in them. 

Both of his arms began to unwrap themselves from around your shoulders, his hands gently landing on either side of your neck instead. He lowered his forehead slowly, carefully resting it against yours.Your own arms released his waist, your hands snaking their way up between your bodies and up the back of his neck until you’d slipped both of them into his hair, carding your fingers through the dark strands.

“We’ll be together again really soon,” he promised you, a faint tremor to his voice that wasn’t usually there. “Right? I’ll be out in LA before you know it and we’ll have another few days to spend together. Just you and I.” 

His thumbs lightly stroked the place just beneath your jaw, the gesture tender and sweet. You fought the urge to close your eyes, not wanting to waste a single moment being able to physically see him in front of you.

“Then we’ll figure out another time to see each other after that. And in the meantime,” he continued, lightly nuzzling his nose against yours, “we can talk on the phone everyday. So it’s not like this is really a goodbye, sweetheart.”

“So help me Matthew,” you playfully threatened, a small smile on your lips despite the way your voice cracked and the tears continued to fall down your cheeks, “if you say this isn’t goodbye, it’s a see you later, I will scream.”

He laughed softly, once again affectionately nuzzling his nose against yours. Inevitably your eyelids dropped closed, your hands in his hair tugging him a bit closer to you until he was flush against you. You wanted to remember every bit of him. Every solid, defined muscle on his body that you’d still yet to explore in the ways you’d always wanted to and often thought about. The feel of your fingers running through his hair and the scent of him in your nose. You wanted to remember the faint scratch of his stubble against your skin and the way it felt when the pair of you stood like this, so close that you could feel his warm breath dancing across you with each exhale. 

But most importantly, you wanted to remember how it felt when he kissed you. As if everything in the world faded away except for the pair of you together, feeling entirely whole in that very moment.

Which is exactly how you felt when he closed the distance between you, pressing his lips so firmly against yours like he needed you just as much. Like he knew exactly what you were thinking. As if he was doing the same thing himself, committing you to memory with his lips and his hands. 

And all you could do in return was the same. Desperately trying to memorize every bit of him before you had to leave him again.

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[mishwanders]

Chapter Three [No.031]: Animal Impulses

Pairing: Albert Wesker x GN!Cannibal Reader

Warnings: more restraints (Wesker really likes to tie up reader), Wesker gets pinned, reader tries their hardest not to bite him.

Summary: You inspect your new home and Wesker surprises you.

Read On AO3 [ X ]

After your little discussion on the house rules and the ‘research’, Wesker allowed you to roam the house a bit on your own while he attended to some other concerns in his office. If you had to be honest, it was nice having a small break from him. His scent was ripping you to shreds inside, your animal impulses almost kicked in on the car ride, ready to rip that metal screen down and take a bite into his throat.

You also realized how much you hated being in the city itself. All of the lights, blaring horns, and the scents that were infiltrating the car - it was all so overwhelming and your head had been pounding like a drum. You were thankful that he lived somewhere tucked away from it all. At least you could get some peace and quiet over here.

You walked up the stairs, making your way to the upper story of the house, walking down the hall, taking a look at the rooms. You found a large bathroom with a separate tub and walk-in shower, a master bedroom, and a spare room with a guest bed. It all seemed rather normal for a person like him, so you made your way back down stairs, walking into the large kitchen. It was odd how normal it all felt while still being very sterile. It was almost as bad as the lab you had just left. You wondered why he kept it like this. Was it because he was hardly ever here in the first place or was he just really freaked out by germs? You shook your head. Couldn’t be the last one, he works for Umbrella of all places, that’s their whole thing. Regardless, it was rather boring here, so you left the room and made your way back to the stairwell.

You wandered around more, happening to find a door underneath the stairs. Your curiosity was piqued, so you opened it, finding a lone hanging light in front of you. You flipped the switch turning it on to find a flight of stairs descending down below to a concrete basement. You looked back out towards Wesker’s office, seeing the door was still closed. You took another look down there, making sure that nothing suspicious was about to come up before you turned the light back off and closed the door.

“Nope.” You whispered, “Not doing any of that.”

You felt a hand creeping up on your shoulder, grabbing hold of you. You grabbed it, twisting the arm of the owner before proceeding to tackle them to the ground, straddling over them and pinning their hands above their heads.

You looked down to realize that it was Wesker below you. He grimaced after hitting the floor so hard with his head. He attempted to move out of your grip, but you refused to let him go, tightening your grip, and keeping him down in his place. Your senses were taking over once again, the scent of him reaching your nose, infiltrating your lungs. Your mouth watered, the craving was coming back again. You did your best to fight your urges, starving off the animal impulses. You couldn’t lose control, not right now.

“Don’t sneak up on me.” You muttered, “That’s a damn good way to get yourself killed.”

“Noted.” He replied.

He watched you intently, taking in how you looked as you fought your impulses.

“I’m curious, what’s stopping you from taking a bite right now? I can see how badly you want to.”

“Because I need you.” You replied, “If you’re gone, I know they’ll come for me too. I’m in no place to be on my own. Not right now.”

“You’re a smart one.” He said with a smirk, “Smarter than Marcus ever gave you credit for.”

That took you by surprise. You never expected him to compliment you. You wondered if it was his way of getting you out of your head, appealing to a part of you that some would consider to be human. Whatever he was doing, it worked. You felt the pull on you lessen, even though his scent was still filling your lungs, appealing to your cravings. But you were able to let go of him, allowing him to move his hands away, sitting up with you still in his lap. You were trembling as you continued to force yourself to calm down, taking deep breaths. He reached his hands up to your face, caressing your cheeks. You wanted to do everything in your power to pull away, afraid that your animal impulses would win this time, but you didn’t, allowing him to hold you there, inspecting you.

He never said a word, he just continued to inspect you like a little experiment, taking in all of the little pieces of your face, the imperfections that dotted your skin. It was becoming rather irritating, the silence was almost as deafening as the pounding of your heart in your chest.

“What is it?” You asked

“Nothing. I’m just taking the chance to have a close look at you.” He replied

“Still treating me like an experiment?”

“That’s what you are. But I’m just noticing how human you still look, even with the viruses running rampant in your system. It’s intriguing.” He said, “it’s like you’re still trying to hold onto your humanity.”

“No.” You replied, “Not humanity. I’m trying to survive. That’s all.”

He smirked at you.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Depends. What do the normal ones do?” You asked

He chuckled at you, “I wouldn’t know. Never really been one of them myself, no matter how easy it is to play the part.”

“Is that what this is? Just a part to be played?”

“Isn’t that what life’s about? Play the part to get what you want?” He asked

“You have an odd way of looking at life.” You commented

“And you have an odd way of living it.” He replied

“Wasn’t my fucking choice.” You muttered, “Umbrella made sure of that.”

“And they played a part to get what they wanted.” He said, “How interesting. It just comes back around in a circle.”

You rolled your eyes at him, getting tired of this little game he was playing with you. You took his hand in yours, removing them from your face.

“Where the hell am I sleeping tonight?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

You followed his gaze directly at the door behind you. The one that led down to the basement. You looked back at him, disappointed.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You said

“I wish I was, but you have yet to prove to me that we can both make it through the night without you acting out on your impulses. It’s the safest place we can keep you for now.” He explained

You were about to ask him who it was safe for, but you knew the answer already. It was safer for both of you. As long as he was alive, he would take care of you and as long as you were alive, he could get what he wanted.

You slid off of his lap, allowing him to stand up, then followed him over to the door, going in first down the stairs, all the way to the concrete basement. There was nothing down here except for the stairs, a water heater, and a group of blankets and pillows all thrown on the floor, with chains connected to the wall. You shook your head and laughed at the situation you had now found yourself in. He raised an eyebrow and looked at you.

‘What’s so funny?” He asked

“I just keep getting out of one prison and jumping head first into another.” You replied, “This feels like something that would happen in a horror movie.”

“Think of it less like a horror movie and more like an extra precaution. You are the danger here, don’t forget that. Besides, if all goes well, and you’re able to control yourself, you won’t have to stay down here long.” He explained, “Until then, this will be where you sleep.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of sleep sitting heavily on your body. You moved towards the blankets and pillows, getting it the way that felt at least a little bit comfortable for you before he made his way over, kneeling down before you and putting on your shackles and collar. When he was done he took one good look at you in your state. He took a bold move and ruffled your hair.

“Sleep tight, pet.”

You glared at him as he left you there, irritated by his comment. He knew how to get under your skin with his words just as much as his silence. It was something you wished you could do with your teeth. You watched him leave you behind, turning off the light as he locked you away in the darkness. You laid back on the pillows, letting out a sigh as you closed your eyes. You had to get yourself in check to get out of this room, that was your only option. The question was, how?

You shook your head, trying not to obsess over it now. You were already down here for the night, you could plot later in the daylight. For now you needed rest, you needed sleep.

You just needed some peace.

Chapter Two: Desire

Chapter Four: You’ve Created A Monster

[ericac318]

The Tutor

Summary: Lexington ‘Lexi’ Hill goes from Mia’s guidance counselor to her tutor after she Mia’s discovery that she’s a princess. On top of that, Lexi’s also in a secret relationship with Joseph ‘Joe’ as she likes to call him. How does their relationship handle all of the new pressure and surprises? Find out! 

Please don’t hate me for breaking up Joseph and Clarisse, I’ve just had this idea in my head since the seventh grade and I needed to write it.

Chapter 2

A/N: The first part of this chapter takes on a slightly more ‘M’ rating

When Lexi arrived home from work later that afternoon, she found Joe sitting in her apartment waiting on her.

As she walked through the door, he stood and made his way to her, placing his hands on her waist, “I missed you,” he whispered as he leaned in toward her ear.

Lexi pushed her worries aside as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “I missed you too,” she admitted before she placed her lips to his, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, her mind distracted, “When is the Queen going to tell Mia about her status as a Princess?”

“I didn’t think we’d be discussing business this evening, but I suppose we must,” he acquiesed, “The Princess will learn of her title tomorrow afternoon. Why do you ask?”

She shrugged as she pulled his hand, guiding him to the couch until they were sitting together, “I don’t want you or Clarisse to tell Mia that I knew. I need to do that myself. I’m worried about the effect this is going to have on her,” she shared while laying her head onto his shoulder.

Joe sat forward, nudging her head off of his shoulder so he could remove his black tie, “That sounds perfectly fine to me. I’ll inform the Queen tomorrow. Did you have any other immediate concerns or can we resume our reunion?”

Lexi allowed her lips to curl into a mischievous grin as she pushed Joe back onto the sofa so she could move to straddle him. “I have no problem with picking up where we left off,” she whispered in his ear before resuming the kiss they’d started upon his arrival.

Joe couldn’t help himself as he rolled his hips up into hers.

“Somebody’s impatient,” she teased as she moved her attention to his jaw, trailing kisses from there to his neck.

He ran his hands under her sweater as he responded through gritted teeth, “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, my darling, but it’s been at least twelve weeks since we saw each other last.”

Lexi ran one of her hands from the back of his neck to the top of his button-down shirt, staring to undo them one-by-one slowly, “I am very aware of that fact,” she panted into his ear before she bit his earlobe, sucking it between her teethe causing his breath to catch.

Joe moved his hand from her neck down to his belt buckle, undoing it and his pants until he could free his erection, which was the hardest he could remember.

Once he was free, he moved his hands under Lexi’s skirt and moved her panties to the side so he could slide inside allowing them both to gasp in pleasure.

“I’ve missed this,” she gasped as she began riding him slowly, at first, enjoying the sounds his rough voice let out from beneath her.

Lexi chose to enjoy this time with him instead of revealing the much more serious topic they needed to discuss.

The following morning, Lexi sat in her office waiting on Mia, knowing it was time for her face the music. 

A few minutes later, Mia entered Lexi’s office and she could tell from Mia’s expression that she knew but that she couldn’t share. The moment of truth had arrived.

“Hi Mia, how are you doing today?” Lexi asked, trying to get a normal start to their session.

Mia let out a long sigh, “Ms. Hill, I can’t even talk about what I want to talk about. I’ve had an extremely trying twenty-four hours and there’s barely anyone I can talk to about it,” she ranted.

Lexi inhaled through her nose before she replied, “Mia, it’s ok for you to share your news with me because I already know. I hope you’re not upset with me because I was sworn to secrecy on the matter,” she explained.

“You knew? And you didn’t tell me?” Mia nearly shouted in reply, “How could you keep this frome me? How could so many people in my life keep this from me?”

“I can’t speak to everyone in your life,” Lexi began, “But, I can tell you why I kept quiet. Joseph contacted me before you started high school and asked that I take on this role, become a middle man between you and Genovia. I’ve wanted to tell you but they made me sign an NDA so my hands were tied. They want me to become your tutor now and I’d like to, but only if that’s something you’re alright with,” she explained as she felt a wave of nausea take over. She swallowed the vomit as she waited on Mia to make her next move.

“I need to think about this, just like everything else,” Mia stated, “I’d like to have someone I know on my side because I know that you’ve been real with me about everything other than that. Can you attend my Princess lessons after school until I decide?” she requested.

Lexi nodded, “Of course, I’d be happy to. When do that start? Today?”

Mia nodded and Lexi realized she was going to have to be around Joe in a professional manner and keep things that way.

Here’s a link to the full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43608067/chapters/109648141

[sundaysundaes]

Unravel

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Romance | 4k | Mr. & Mrs. Smith AU, Secret Agents/Assassins AU

A continuation of Delirium.

Summary: Your relationship with the mysterious stranger you met during your mission continues and it intensifies into something deeper, forcing you to break your own rules.

Warnings: car sex, rough sex, oral sex (male receiving), swearing

“Spend the day with me.”

Your hands stopped mid-air during their attempt in drying your hair with a towel. Donghyuck was sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers against each other, his eyes gazing at you from behind his bangs. Unlike you, he has dressed handsomely in a pair of black ripped jeans and a light blue denim shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The bedsheets were all crumpled and stained underneath him from the activity you shared with him the night before—and this morning as well, when he suddenly decided to take the whipped cream and strawberries off his plate and smeared them all over your stomach, tasting them directly from your skin. 

“Let’s get some breakfast together or something,” he offered.

You coyly smile. “I thought we’ve had our breakfast.”

“Well, I’m still hungry.” But by the way his eyes ran down your body, lingering a little too long at the hem of your lingerie, you knew he was craving for something else. “I want to take you out on a date.” 

Still dressed solely in your underwear after your morning shower, you sent him a sly grin. “Do you do this with all your one night stands?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

You shook your head in amusement. “I’m supposed to fly back to Seoul tonight.”

“Change it. We can fly back together tomorrow.”

“I have work tomorrow.”

“Then take a day off.”

You scrunched up your nose. “Are you always this demanding?”

“Part of my charm.” He stood up from his seat, walking closer to you and you carelessly let your towel slide down to the floor, hands winding naturally around his neck. The way he sighed whenever your mouth made contact with his always left you a bit weak, stomach somersaulting in delight. “I’m a pretty determined man.” He kissed the skin below your ear, his hand trailing around the dip of your waist. “I have to get what I want and I won’t back down until I have it.”

You tilted your head, exposing more of your neck for his teeth to mark on. “And what is it that you want?”

He unclasped your bra, calloused fingertips raking down your spine before they went back to your chest. “What do you think I want?”

You didn’t want to think about anything else, not even the fact that you just washed yourself clean from his previous touches. You just wanted to feel him again, to hear his soft moans against your ear, to make him flinch when you slide your hand under his shirt, nails scraping against his delicate v-lines.

“I love your cherry mint lip balm,” he commented after he glided his tongue across your lower lip. “But you taste even better without it.”

Ripping his buttons open with hasty fingers, you murmured against his mouth, “I think we should just go straight for lunch. What do you think?”

Donghyuck smirked and let you crawl on top of his lap.

Being attached to someone could risk your life, or worse, put your loved ones in danger. You knew this. That was the most important rule in your handbook and you had been following that for years in order to survive, even distancing yourself from your parents and family. Which was the whole reason why you wanted to keep it casual with him. As much fun as he was, Donghyuck was only a lover for one night. That was how he was supposed to be.

But the last two days you spent with him was magical. Donghyuck was alluring, reeked of masculinity and sensuality, but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized that he was still a child at heart. The little pout he made when he lost an argument, the way his tongue was protruding against the inside of his cheek whenever your joke struck too close to home, and the little whines that escaped his lips when things didn’t go his way—he was young, refreshing, in a way. And you could feel yourself letting go, allowing yourself to bury the guilt and the sins you’d committed somewhere deep inside your mind and finally be yourself for once.

But all magical things must end at some point. And yet, when you were about to part ways with him at the airport, already walking toward the opposite direction of where he was heading, you realized how your heart stayed with him; how your body still longed for him, no matter how many times they had made contact during your two days together. When you pivoted on your heels, about to ask him to stay longer, you saw him doing the same thing.

With a sheepish smile—a stark contrast to how he usually displayed his expression—he suggested, “Maybe we can get some coffee first before we head home?”

You didn’t get to come home that night, but your heart had already settled down someplace better.

Neither of you ever talked about your relationship status. It wasn’t important, anyway. But what started as a strictly physical bond, became so much more the second he opened up about his childhood days followed by you disclosing your recurring dreams and nightmares. Personal things were shared, intimate memories were told and the wall that separated you from him began to crumble.

Despite how talkative he was, Donghyuck could really listen when you needed him to. He wouldn’t give you any advice because he knew you were already smart enough to figure them out by yourself, but he would embrace you tightly to his chest with his lips grazing against your fringe, his fingers playing with your strands. And if you really wanted him to say something, he would kiss you on your forehead and whisper, “You’re strong. You’ll get through this. But if you feel like you’re tired of their shits, you could just ring me. I’ll finish them for you.”

You laughed. You thought he was joking.

The hardest part of being an undercover assassin was you had to travel most of the time for your work. Your target could be walking in another city, living in a different country, speaking a different language and you just couldn’t afford to be distracted. So whenever you got the chance to meet him, you’ll try to satisfy your needs—mostly, physical—as best as you could. Lucky for you, he was only eager to comply.

Hovering above you, nude except for the silver necklace hanging around his neck, body glistening with sweat, Donghyuck took a detailed look at your wrist. The lighting in your room wasn’t bright enough for him to examine the bruises blooming on your skin, but the way his eyes narrowed, accompanied by a frown, told you that he knew it wasn’t just a simple injury. 

“Who did this to you?” His choice of words startled you. He didn’t ask what or how—he straightforwardly asked who, confident that it was done by someone and not merely a result of an accident. It sent a shiver down your spine because the truth was you were wounded during your last mission when you tried to infiltrate the enemy’s base by getting caught in purpose. At one point, you were restrained to a pole with ropes tied firmly along your wrists, hence the bruises. But there was no way you could be honest.

So, you lied.

“I tripped and accidentally twisted my wrist,” you said, moving your hips to distract him. He was still sheathed deep inside you, his cock slightly twitching in response, but held you by the waist to keep your body still.

“Did someone hurt you?” His voice was deep as it reverberated through the air, and you grew rigid after noticing how his previously laid-back demeanor suddenly became serious, almost dangerous even. “Who is it? Tell me his name.”

You swallowed. He was smarter than you’d expected. Way smarter. “I was tied up.”

“By who?”

The way he strictly sought revenge at the thought of someone hurting you was both arousing and frightening at the same time. You knew how protective he was over the things he owned, you just didn’t realize you were one of them.

“By a cute guy I met at a club,” you said, smiling seductively at him. “Per my request.” 

His grip around your wrist loosened a little bit, his lips parted in surprise. “What?”

“It’s not like we’re officially dating or anything,” you taunted him, clenching your walls around him in purpose. “Are we?”

Donghyuck’s eyes were almost gleaming at that point, staring down at you coldly at first before he broke into a smirk. 

“Not official, huh?” The way he suddenly flipped you over to your stomach almost made you yelp. “Get on your knees.”

He was angry, you knew it, and you were grateful that you were facing the headboard because you could feel your smirk creeping up your face, excitement bubbling up in your chest.

“He tied you up with a rope, did he?” He held your ass in the air, his nails sinking into the skin of your hips as he forcefully thrust inside, slamming his entire length in one motion. “I wasn’t aware you were into that.”

Donghyuck had always been passionate and although he loved marking you with his lips and teeth, he was never rough. Tonight, though, that was all he was. Rough and merciless, and you enjoyed every second of it.

You didn’t even hold back your moans, knowing he wouldn’t want you to anyway. Your voice would most likely be hoarse tomorrow and that would be awful since you had a meeting scheduled on the next morning, but you couldn’t care. It was easier to let go than to hold back, because Donghyuck was hitting you at the right spot, at the right pace, at the perfect angle.

“Tying you up with a rope is a bit too much, don’t you think?” He breathed out, pounding into you hard and fast, his hand sliding down your stomach to rub his fingertips against your clit. “If it was me, I would’ve used my tie.”

Fuck. “Then—” Your breathing began to stutter, matching the snap of his hips. “What’s stopping you?”

“I wanted to hear you ask about it first.” You were astonished by how thoughtful he was. “And force you to beg for it afterward.” You took your words back. He was a fucking tease, after all.

You fisted the sheet beneath you, desperate to keep a hold on something as you gasped his name. “Was he any good?” He slammed his hips once, pausing for your answer and when he saw you nodding, he thrust again, harder this time. “Better than me?”

You were having the toughest time concentrating, couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone forming a word. You were pushed against the headboard, now placing your hands on the wall for support. You shakily nodded, wanting to rile him up even more, driving him to the brink and practically forcing him to give the best fuck of your life.

And he did, exceeding your expectation.

When he asked again, his lips were grazing against your ear. “You sure about that, Sweetheart?”

You couldn’t tell if more words were falling from his mouth because the rest of the world had faded into a blur. He was giving you the same amount of pain and pleasure from how he was frantically thrusting inside you, and it felt so new, so raw, that you started feeling lightheaded, drowning in ecstasy. You closed your eyes, stars sparkling behind your eyelids as your orgasm hit you like a wave, leaving you shaking and whimpering against the sheets.

Donghyuck turned you around so he could ravish your lips with his, teeth gnawing against soft skin, tongue sliding against yours in a messy kiss. His left hand was squeezing your thigh, bringing you closer so he could release inside you; his other one was on the side of your face, fingers tangling around your strands, nearly tugging against the roots of your hair as he slid his hand down to your neck, applying pressure until you choked out his name. He came with a loud, breathy moan, which you swallowed directly with your mouth.

When both of your bodies had stopped trembling from your post-orgasm, Donghyuck kissed you again, slower and idly this time, as he was still in a haze. You responded with a sigh, your heartbeat gradually reducing to its normal pace.

“Let’s make it official,” he said, still breathing quite heavily as he placed his temple against yours. His eyes were closed. “You belong to me, as much as I belong to you. How does that sound?”

And as he felt you smiling against his lips, you said, “Sounds perfect.”

Donghyuck was protective but not possessive, which played a huge part in why your relationship with him worked so well. He knew how to keep you safe, how to give you comfort, and wouldn’t let anything harm you even when he knew you could protect yourself just fine. Being with Donghyuck was easy because he respected you without making inquiries. He was a man with a lot of demands, but he always gave you the space you needed and knew when to put your priorities before his. He always picked-up little details but never making unnecessary comments or questions, unless you wanted him to. Sometimes it made you nervous, perturbed by the possibility of him finding out about your secret. But with a pocket knife hidden inside your vanity bag, you knew what to do if something went wrong. It would be near impossible for you to hurt him as you probably wouldn’t have the heart to do it, but your identity and your profession remained the top priority.

You just wished, really wished, he wouldn’t notice.

“You look nice,” you commented when he showed up at your flat, dressed sharply in a black suit and tie. His hair was shorter, slightly pushed back and parted to the side, making him look younger but also much more mature at the same time. It was the night of your second anniversary—well, counting from the day you met him anyway. The top of his white shirt was unbuttoned, two more than necessary, as always.

He smiled, taking you by the wrist and yanked you forward until you fell on his chest, lips locked with his. When he broke the kiss, he licked his bottom lip once. “You taste nice.”

You slapped him lightly on his shoulder, smiling bashfully to yourself as you grabbed your purse. “What time is our reservation?”

“In half an hour.”

“Then, we better go.” You linked your arm around his. “I’ll just ravish you after dinner later.”

The way he chuckled made you feel warm inside. “Can’t wait.”

His Audi smelled more of citrus and less bergamot—the perfume he often wore—and you wondered whether it was a rental or he just rarely used it. You didn’t have the strength to care, too busy stealing glances at him during the drive to the restaurant. He had lent you his suit to cover your bare shoulders from the night cold, and he had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his veiny arms with his silver Tag Heuer watch glinting along his wrist whenever a passing car shone headlights. He only had one hand on the steering wheel, with another one propped up against the window, unconsciously pressing the side of his index finger to his lips and a thumb on his chin. 

“Thinking about something?” You questioned since he seemed to be deep in thoughts. 

He took a glimpse of your face, the corner of his lips curving upwards. “Just trying to figure out why you keep on looking at me every two seconds.” 

You were a bit flustered but kept your face in check. “Honestly? You just look so good in that black shirt.”

“Yeah?” He changed gears, chuckling softly. “Then, what should we do about it?”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve had the time for ourselves, what with us being busy with our jobs.” You placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing up and down the silky fabric of his black trousers. “I’m sorry I left you alone for so long. I’ve always hated going overseas, even more now since I met you.”

Donghyuck glanced at the way your fingers are reaching dangerously close to the part he had been longing to be touched for the last three weeks you had been separated. “That’s… fine… ” He forced his eyes to go back to the road when a car passed by from his side, honking angrily at him. “I had to go out of town too, so we wouldn’t have been able to meet anyway.”

You bit the corner of your lip, trying to contain a smirk from breaking on your face. He was obviously distracted, but the way he tried to act so composed was adorable too. “Then…” You tucked some loose strands behind your ear, wetting your lips. “Let me make it up to you.”

You leaned over to his seat, close enough to be able to unfasten his belt and unzip his pants. Donghyuck took a sharp breath when he felt your fingers curling around his length, stroking him gently until he came alive in your hand.

“Keep your eyes on the road,” you said, smiling at him as you glided your thumb across his tip. 

Donghyuck mirrored your mischievous smile. “Yes, Ma’am.” 

When you dipped your head, slanting your lips around his tip, he let out this small sigh of content which only urged you to please him more. You slid your tongue across his slit, going down to the side to trace his vein, and murmuring sinful things against his sensitive skin.

“You’re being rather expressive today,” he comments. His voice sounded stable but the way he bit the tip of his thumb to contain his groan betrayed him. “Did something good happen?”

“I’m just happy,” you pause to engulf his length completely, bobbing your head twice before letting him go with a pop. “That I get to see you again.”

The way he hit on the brakes were not as gentle as before. Waiting for the red light to go green, Donghyuck leaned back to his seat, his fingers immediately slipped between your strands, tugging softly at your locks as he slightly thrust into your mouth.

“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, reeling in the sensation of your heated mouth enveloping him. “That feels good—you’re so good at this.”

But when a car stopped by just three meters away from you, Donghyuck straightened up on his seat. The driver—a middle-aged man with a goatee—was nodding his head to the music, both windows of his car opened for him to enjoy the night wind. He noticed Donghyuck’s car, perhaps amazed with how expensive it was, and your boyfriend slid his window down to show his face. You wanted to protest but he held you down by pressing his palm against the back of your head. “It’s too dark, he won’t be able to see.” He reassured you and you grunted in response, which made him chuckle under his breath.

“Nice car, man,” shouted the man.

Donghyuck waved a hand, an innocent smile strapped to his face. “Thanks. I like your tires. Custom made?”

And they began to have a casual conversation as if he didn’t have your mouth wrapped around his cock. He was always like this, a fucking tease, but two could play at this game. You sucked harder around his tip before you went down completely until he hit the back of your throat. Donghyuck’s grip around your locks grew tighter but his voice was airy when he replied to the man. You swallowed around him to pull more reaction out of him.

It was his luck that the light turned green. 

As he drove away, taking the opposite direction from the other man, you pulled away from him. “Where are we going?” You noticed he was no longer heading to the restaurant. 

“Someplace quiet where I can fuck you properly,” he said, smiling dangerously at you. “You don’t think I’m gonna let you go just like that, do you?”

You grinned. “You never fail to impress me.”

The second he pulled over an empty parking lot behind an abandoned building, Donghyuck immediately moved your seat all the way back and latched his lips on yours, making you giggle against his mouth on your way down. 

“Let me be on top this time,” you breathed out heavily when he pushed your lingerie to the side with one hand and stroked himself with his other one. Donghyuck glanced at you from behind his bangs, his lips bruised from your kisses. He confirmed your plead with a nod and let you switch positions. It wasn’t easy to move around in such a small space that you ended up bumping your head against his chin but the hilarity of it all only added more emotional feelings to be involved. Suddenly, the need for physical contact didn’t matter as much as before. You were enjoying his laughter, blushing when he swatted the bangs out of your eyes, pouting when he told you how ridiculous you looked trying to work this out and you just really loved having him around.

Maybe it worked the same way with him too because Donghyuck’s eyes were not solely filled with lust anymore. They were soft, tender as they peered into yours, and the way he caressed your face was soothing, as if you were the most fragile being he had ever touched in his life.

“Kiss me,” you said, not sure if you could handle his gaze any longer than that. He made you feel vulnerable, made you feel transparent and you were scared of having him look into your soul and finding out the secrets you’d been hiding.

He pressed his lips gently to yours, almost in a chaste kiss. He broke away to kiss the corner of your mouth when you were about to deepen the kiss, then he peppered more to your cheek, your temple before he landed a peck on the tip of your nose. “I’ve missed you,” he confessed, making you grow stiff in his arms. “I missed you so much when you were gone.”

It was very unusual for him to say such romantic words in such a serious manner and you were left speechless, dazed even, at the way he tenderly embraced you. “Happy anniversary, Sweetheart.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, hiding your smile. “Happy anniversary, baby.”

It felt different that night, the way he held you, the way he moved inside you, the way he made you feel. It was the first time he ever made love to you, truly, and it was both weird and funny to know that it was happening in an abandoned parking lot, with both of you fully clothed except for the part where you were connected to him.

And as he tried to be quiet, you could hear him sigh and curse almost inaudibly under his breath—which felt somehow more erotic to your ears. Leaning forward to get closer to him, Donghyuck intertwined his fingers with yours, his free hand tugging at the zipper of your dress so the strap would fall off your shoulder, revealing enough skin for him to mark on.

Usually, he would be rough and dominating, sucking bruises until you hissed in pain but this time, he only applied soft kisses, sometimes peeking out his tongue just to make you shiver. Sex with Donghyuck had never been boring since he knew how to keep his women entertained, but tonight, your senses were taking so much more details because your heart was involved. And so was his.

“I’m—” You quivered, the sway of your hips moving out of rhythm. Being on top of him let you take control and you used it fully to maximize your pleasure. “I think I’m gonna come—” 

He added the sensation by rubbing his thumb over your clit, almost making you jump off his lap. “Wait—” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightened. Knowing you were so close to the edge, Donghyuck’s hand found home in your hair once again and brought your lips to his. “I love you,” he whispered between kisses and you lost it. You lost every sense, every control, every thought that you could only whimper against his lips when you came undone, him following soon after. 

Donghyuck muffled his moan by mouthing against the bare skin of your shoulder. His whole body shook under your touch and you let him finish without a word, just pressing your lips lazily against his collarbone. 

Your heart was beating loudly, and you wondered whether it was simply because of the sex or his last three words. You had known that he was committed to you, just like you were to him, but you didn’t know that he loved you that way. 

Donghyuck had his head thrown back, eyes tightly closed as he enjoyed the rest of his orgasm, breathing heavily through parted lips. You kissed him softly on his chin, making him look back at you. “Hey,” he smiled, a bit drowsy.

“Hey, stranger,” you cooed, fingers stroking his jaw. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“When you said you loved me.” You analyze his expression, every contort of his face. “Or was it just because of a spur of the moment?”

The sudden vulnerable look on his face made you freeze. Donghyuck had always been a little guarded and you’d noticed that, no matter how hard he tried to hide it behind his teasing smirks and mischievous smiles. You just never questioned about it because like him, you also had your secrets to bury inside your chest. You thought it wasn’t fair to pester him about it when he never forced you to spill. It wasn’t like he was hiding the fact that he murdered people on a monthly basis like you did. Unbeknownst to you, anyway.

“I don’t think I know what love is,” he answered with eyes just as soft as his voice. “What I do know is that I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I thought about you a lot, so much that it freaks me out.”

You quietly laughed. “You’re just obsessing over me.”

“Whether it’s an obsession or love, I’m willing to have it.” He cupped your face, eyes boring into yours. “I want to feel everything, I want you to make me feel everything.”

“That’s quite a demand.” You gazed down to his lips, tentatively touching his plump lower one with your fingertips. “But as a start, I think I want to love you too, Hyuck.”

The way he reflected your smile was both beautiful and heartbreaking—as if it was the first time he ever heard someone said those words back to him. He pulled you for another embrace, his lips grazing against your earlobe when he sighed, “That’s good enough for me.”

You giggled, nuzzling closer to him. “I think we’re late for our reservation.”

He chuckled. “We have got to stop skipping our meals for sex.”

***

[kissme-hs]

Chris and reader get into a fight and Chris just bends her over and pushes her face onto the counter or the bed wherever you’d like and he says hella nasty shit to her....it sounded better in my mind I’m nervous🥺

I love you whoever sent this request and I would love to hear what you guys think of this one ;) Give feedback here. Please reblog if you enjoyed !!!

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Chris evans

Warnings: 18+ smut,Unprotected sex, mentions of daddy kink, degradation, filthy talk.

“I’m telling you for the last time you are not going to that goddamn party” Chris shouts from behind following you in the bathroom where you stood in front of the big mirror. You rolled your eyes making eye contact with his blue orbs and washed your face, letting the cold water hit your face, calming your angry nerves down.

Going back and forth over the argument ignited because of a simple question you asked him, even though there was no need for you to get his permission in doing whatever you desired, you still did as a gesture of mutual respect.

“Can I go to Andrew’s party?”

And who would’ve thought that a simple question would lit up his jealousy like a Christmas tree. Chris had no problem with you hanging out with guys, the trust he had in you was far more than enough for him to go to bed with no fear of you cheating, but it’s the man he doesn’t trust. Andrew literally undresses you to bare nothing with his eyes, and you were well aware of that fact, but its your friends for whom you wanted to go.

“you know, you should really learn how to control your jealousy” you said looking back in the mirror staring in his eyes through the reflection where he stood at the door. His eyebrow lifted up in pure frustration and toned muscular arms crossed across his chest. The way his arms flexed, you swore he could’ve ripped the blue t-shirt in pieces and not to your surprise it turned you on.

Seeing him jealous and all flustered up gave you the heartbeat down there.

“One more time-“

“Oh also Chris, you’re not my dad” You added the little comment cutting him off. And the next thing you knew was him gripping your neck with his big hand. His hips pressed against yours as your held on the white marble counter of your bathroom. Lips ghosting over your ear, his hot breath hitting your earlobe making you shiver.

“watch that little mouth of yours doll” Chris said through gritted teeth, tilting your head to allow him more access to your now exposed skin of neck. The strap of your tank top slipping down your shoulder. His lips came in contact with the supple skin, suckling and nipping behind your ear and every part of your bare neck he could. He sucked on the skin roughly and kissed so wetly making your legs tumble.

“I’ve not even touched you yet baby girl.” He chuckled deeply as you cling onto his arms to balance your crumbling self. His scruffy, wet lips dragged all the way chin to the base of your throat as you gasped with the pleasure.

“D-don’t leave hickeys, I’ve to go to the party” you whimper biting your lips as you kept you eyes closed. With the words leaving your mouth, his now loosened grip on your throat tightening up as he brings your ear once again close to his lips, biting the lobe before whispering deeply in it. Making your soul shiver.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be able to walk because baby, I’m gonna fuck you so hard that the only name you’re gonna remember is of daddy’s. Do I make myself clear?”

And you never nodded your head so fast like you did this time. His deep raspy voice pooling your panties with wetness, you were sure he could easily slide in because of how soaked he got you.

Before you could blink your eyes and catch your breath that you missed because of his tongue on the soft skin of your neck, you were placed on the cold marble shelf. Hissing with the chill contact of countertop with your warm bum which was now bare too with the friction of his hips against yours—slipping the panties aside.

“It’s time for me to show you who’s incharge princess.” And which that he pushed your legs aside with putting your feet on the counter so that the only thing exposed open, was your clothed sex which Chris immediately pushed aside, mentally thanking you for wearing the most delicate pair of undies. The bathroom scented with the aroma of your now, wide spread open pussy.

His mouth watering with the sight. Your chest rising ever so quickly as he got close to your throbbing pussy, nudging his nose in and taking a long breath in, savouring the scent of your sex. And his hand reaching up to grab your tit from under the tank top, eventually pushing the cotton material further up to scrunch over your chest.

He physically felt his cock getting hardest as it could be. And his hunger growing to get a taste of that pussy.

“Chris please.”

“What’s the princess?”

“Fuck just eat me out already” you groaned in annoyance as the lust bubbled up inside your belly with rising impatience. Your pulsing clit craved his tongue, and for it to flick it until you come undone.

“Behave dirty girl” he slapped the wet skin making you jump and grow impatient even more. Grabbing your tit with one hand you gave him those eyes that made his knees go week but not this time. He chuckled shaking his head before slapping your pussy one more time.

“What’s the word princess?”

“Please daddy”

Those words made his dick twitch and his muscular tongue was now on your pussy. He licked and flicked and suckled and nibbled savouring every taste of the sex. His tongue wide spreading, collecting all the juices and he sucked on your clit like a leech not letting go on the bundle of never.

Your hand gripping on his hair as a natural reflex but he was quick enough to grip them and hold them down tightly against your belly, pressuring it down, well aware how it brings you easily to the edge. His other hand, yes other hand. One hand is big enough to grip your both hands in place as the finger of his other hand slides in your opening with ease, just like you thought.

Lips and tongue never leaving your clit as he pumped in his finger eventually adding one more to the party. The sound his mouth made was filthy, but he couldn’t care less, slurping every drop your pussy dripped.

“So fucking tasty, and all mine. You understand doll. All fucking mine.” He groaned with confidence of knowing how every inches of your body was to be marked by his name.

“Shit I’m close daddy” you cried throwing your head back against the mirror, whining out loud soon after with the lost of contact of his warm tongue against your pussy. The building up orgasm dangled on the edge with frustration of needing to release.

“I don’t think you deserve to cum yet doll.”

“But-“

“Shhh-“ he hushed you pulling you to him and swiftly flipping over. You were bent down on the counter within a single breath, the coldness, now hitting your perched nipples as he pushed your head down against the shelf. He was rough, yet he made sure you were comfortable with what he was doing.

His hard cock, which he took out when he was flipping you over (man of speed, ik) now pressed against the cheeks of your butt and your hands held together by his other hand. Removing his palm from your cheek head, he pumped his hard shaft rubbing it against your cleanched pussy.

The glistening and soft skin was making it harder for him to control himself and not fuck you right away. But you deserved some teasing, he wanted to make sure you realise who’s got the tie in hand.

“Feel that baby, see how hard you make me.”

“Y-yes” you said ever so quietly with your eyes rolled back in your head feeling the warm rub of his tip against your lips.

The harsh contact of his palm against the cheek of your butt opened your eyes wide, and the jiggle of the cheeks aroused him more than ever.

“Yes what princess?”

“Yes daddy”

“Tell me what you want”

“You”

“Tell me what you want”

You hissed again with the another spank coming in contact with the plump skin of your arse. This all wasn’t pain, but pleasure. You loved when Chris took control, not that it was rare but you enjoyed it more.

“Your Cock daddy. I want you to fuck me with that cock” you said rather loudly with gritted teeth getting sexually frustrated and you felt his hand gripping your hair pulling your head up until you were facing the mirror. His eyes roared darkly at you and you could see the dripping lust with jealousy.

“I want you to see me, while I’m fucking you. Want you to fucking see who you belong to”

And with that you heard the groan of satisfaction as he slammed his dick in your tight pussy without giving you time to adjust to his thick shaft. The fatness of his cock filled you up with utter deliciousness as he rammed it inside you, thrusting the hardest he could again making sure he wasn’t hurting.

Your buttcheeks bounced with every hit as you stared as his face. He was looking down at the connect sexes hitting his lip, more like admiring the jiggle of your cheeks with beautiful hand prints decorating the skin. He’s an ass men after all.

“Fuck me harder daddy. I’m all yours. This is all yours” you praised him giving his a boost once he started to slow down probably getting tired of hitting his hard, his body pacing up with the same energy as he held your throat leaning over your back to push your face to him so that he could connect his lips to your. The first kiss of the night and man he could feel his cum at the tip.

The sweet salty taste of your juices lingered on his tongue as your played with his it. He pulled onto your lower lip mercilessly before pulling away, hand still holding onto your neck. His body jerking into yours making the filthiest noise of skins slapping together. His chest now sweaty and you felt the sweat dropping on your back but you couldn’t care less. Your own body was covered with the salty water as you moaned out loudly feeling yourself coming on the edge for the second time this time.

His cock twiched once more inside your walls as you clenched them tight to squeeze his dick bringing him closer to his own orgasm.

“You think you can give that cum you’ve been holding now baby huh? Think you can show me how filthy you are. Hmm?” He asked resting his head on your shoulder as he placed multiple kisses on your neck.

Neck kisses along with his harsh thrust was more than enough for you to cry out in pleasure as you suirted all over his cock, which he immidiately pulled out to let his cum shoot all over your round ass. The grey fuzzy carpet now drenched in pure nasty of your orgasms.

You let your body rest on the counter letting your hand devour the cold feeling against the hotness of your skin.

“Think you’re still gonna go?” Chris laughed as he wet a hand towel to wipe you clean.

“Hm yes” you smirked and then shrieked when he threw the towel on the ground with you over his shoulder and carried to bed.

“Looks like daddy needs to teach you one more lesson baby doll.”

[disgustingtoast]

my shitty, shitty minho fic that took ages [tmr minho]

I'm sick of rereading this so here is 3.5k words of shitty, self indulgent writing. The confession could have 100% been more heartfelt but I'm sick of looking this in my google docs. There is most definitely a ton of mistakes but idc <3

this isn't really enemies to lover but the whole dynamic minho and the reader have kinda wrote itself lmao

HERE YOU MFS- @agathallalongs @blanknamed

You were fine with the way you woke up. Hell, you preferred it over some snot-nosed kid coming in and waking you up. And as it turns out, having the same schedule for a little under a year makes for a great internal clock, the habit of getting up in time for your daily run already having been instilled in you for months. So when you’re pulled from the peaceful lulls of sleep because of the feeling of being flipped upside down and landing face-first into the dirt floor of the Glade, you were rightfully peeved.

“Rise and shine shank.”

Minho. Of course it was Minho.

“I’m gonna throw you off the Cliff the minute we’re far enough into the Maze.” Sitting up, you try to rub off the dirt that got on your face when you face planted, scowling at the stains that litter the front of your shirt. “This was a new shirt too.”

“Were you thinking of going running with me or do you plan on sitting in the dirt all day?” Despite him being out of sight you can practically see the smug look he’s wearing. “Hey, maybe you can convince Winston to let you get in the pig pen so you can take a nice mud bath.”

Groaning, you finally stand up and turn around to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, holding a paper bag which you presumed had your lunch in it on the other side of your hammock, your very, very twisted hammock.

“Why the hell did you wake me up? I get up fine on my own.”

He shrugs in response, “I just felt like it.”

“You just felt like waking me up or you just felt like getting the world record for ‘biggest pain in the ass’?”

“A bit of both, and seeing your face when you spat out that dirt made you so much more attractive.”

Heat crawls up your neck in embarrassment, “Slim it.” Furrowing your eyebrows in frustration, you gesture in front of you to the tangled mess that hangs between you, “Also you’re gonna fix that.”

“No. It’s your bed.”

“You’re the one who flipped me over! Fix it.”

He stares at you for a second before turning on his heel and jogging off. While he turns to leave you barely catch the way his lips quirk into a smirk. As you watch his retreating figure you can feel your fingers twitch, the urge to strangle him suddenly overwhelming.

“Hey! Get back here shuck-face!” As quickly as you can, you slip your shoes on, not bothering to tie them and pull the leather harness over your head. After one last disapproving glance at your pathetic hammock you’re off, racing after Minho in an effort not to let him get too far ahead. If he beat you to the Doors you’d never hear the end of it.

By the time you catch up with him you’re out of breath. Everytime you would get closer than a few feet behind him he’d run a little faster keeping you at a good few paces behind him, succeeding at prolonging your ever-growing exasperation.

Eventually though he lets you catch up until you’re running side by side, a few meters away from the Walls. “This prison wouldn’t be half as bad if the Creators had put anyone else in here other than you. Preferably someone cuter, without such a punchable face.” You don’t have to look at him to imagine the offended look on his face, one of his most punchable expressions actually.

“I am by far the most attractive guy here. The rest of these shanks look like klunk in cargo shorts.”

“Yeah no. You don’t even break the top 21 on my list.” Once you reach the wall, you lean against it, waiting for the doors to open. When you look at Minho he quirks an eyebrow.

“You have a list?” He pauses for a moment, “Wait there’s only 22 gladers. You included yourself on your own list?”

“Good job! I wasn’t sure if you knew how to count.”

“Slim it. So who’re the top 3?”

You pause for a moment pretending to mull it over. “Well, Gally’s got that whole tall and brooding thing going. And Nick, well I like a man who can take charge-”

“Yeah, yeah okay I get it.” He waves his hand in the air rather indignantly, dismissing what you said. After a minute of silence. the grating sound of rock being dragged against rock echoes through the Glade as the Doors finally start to open. As he tightens the straps of his harness, Minho glances down at the ground and pauses for a moment before he snickers, “You better tie your shoes if you don’t want to trip and ruin your pretty face. Might knock you down a few pegs on that list of yours.”

~

It had been hours since you’d left the Glade, running the familiar course of the Maze. The only entertainment being watching the way the back of Minho’s neck turns a lovely shade of red every time you make a particularly irritating comment.

“Hey it’s getting late. We should go back to the Glade.”

Minho shakes his head in disbelief. “It’s not that late. We still have plenty of time to get back.”

“But I finally convinced Fry to make bacon and there's no way that they’ll be any left unless we get there early.” You draw out the last syllable in a whine, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

He pivots, still continuing to run just now facing backwards. “Is Frypans bacon really more important than finding a way out of this hell hole?”

“Yes!”

“...Fine-” His sigh of annoyance is cut off abruptly as he trips, falling backwards and landing with a loud huff as the air is knocked out of his lungs.

“Shit, Minho!” You kneel beside him as he lays still, “Are you okay?!” Your voice seems to ricochet off the walls.

It takes a moment before he groans, his eyes still closed. “Why are you so shucking loud?”

“Sorry. Are you okay?” Quieting your tone, you hover over him.

He finally opens his eyes, “M’ fine. I just tripped.” Pushing himself up, he tries to stand but the minute he puts pressure on his ankle he gasps in pain, stumbling into you as you stand to catch him.

“Shit. Okay, you just need to sit down.” You lead him over to the wall, letting him support himself against it before he slides down to sit. When he stretches his legs out in front of him you take to kneeling again, this time next to his feet. Rolling back the bottom of his pant leg you check to see how bad his ankle is and judging by the wincing and the gritting of his teeth you’re betting on not good.

It’s only been a minute but you feel your heart drop at the way it’s already swollen and starting to bruise. You frown as you press your finger against it lightly, snapping your hand back as Minho recoils, growling in pain.

“Don’t touch it!”

“Fine. Good luck finding someone else in here that’ll help you. I’m sure the Grievers would be happy to assist.”

“It just hurts asshole, no need to get snappy.”

“Yeah, yeah just stop your whining you big baby.”

He cringes as you begin to prod his ankle again and sets his head back to rest against the wall.

“Well I’d say it’s just a fracture, it doesn't look too messed up- Minho?” He doesn’t respond. “Hey! Minho!” You reach in front of his face and snap your fingers, “C’mon I need you to wake up!”

He moans as he opens his eyes, well squints his eyes. He can barely keep them open half way, “Why is it so bright in here?”

Furrowing your eyebrows you glance up, it really isn’t that bright, gray clouds float across the majority of the sky and cover most of the sun. Looking back at his face, you can’t stop the nauseating feeling of fear that gnaws in your stomach. “Here, move your head off the wall, I need to check something.”

The dark stain on the wall where he was resting against is enough evidence but some irrational, hopeful part of you checks anyways, reaching around him and pressing your fingers to the back of his head. When you bring your hand back, your fingers are covered in blood.

“Damn it.” You try your hardest to push down the anxiety thundering in your stomach as you grab Minho’s arm and wrap it around your shoulder. Now is not the time to panic. “We need to get you back to the Glade.”

~

You’re not surprised he’s heavy, almost a year of running almost everyday tends to build up a lot of muscle however that doesn't make it any easier for you to carry him. You had to have been stumbling around for hours before you had to fully set him down to catch your breath.

“You really need to lay off Fry’s cooking. I’m telling him that you’re going on a diet the minute we get back.”

You only get silence in response, prompting you to look over and make sure he hadn’t passed out again. His eyes were open but his mind seemed to be elsewhere, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes focusing on something on the wall across from the one you were leaning against. You raise your hand and rest it against his shoulder, “Minho?”

“You need to leave me behind.”

The nauseous feeling returns, “What? No way I’m leaving you here to be Griever food.”

His face twists in frustration as he turns to look at you. “We’ll both be killed if you don’t get the hell out!”

“We still have time! I can carry you the rest of the way just fine.” Grabbing his wrist you pull his arm across your shoulders, tightening your grip when you feel him try to tug his arm back. “We’re going.” You wrap your arm around his waist to support him as you force him to stand.

He tries to pull away, “Why are you being so shucking stubborn! I can barely walk! There’s no way you’ll make it time before the Doors close.”

“Well that’s tough for me I guess.” You begin to walk forward, trying to adjust the way his body weight rested against you.

He begins to say your name but you interrupt him, “No! I’m not leaving you and that’s final.” Cursing the slight waver in your voice you continue to look ahead, choosing to ignore the frustrated look on his face.

It doesn’t take long for exhaustion to set in, Minho seeming to weigh even more every ten minutes. As you drag your feet across the uneven floor, the toe of your shoe catches on a crack, sending you both stumbling forward for what seems like the fiftieth time. The only difference is that this time you aren’t able to catch yourself, fatigue catching up with you and sending both you and Minho careening forward.

Stabbing pain shoots through your legs as you fall to your knees, the sound of Minho groaning in pain causes waves of guilt to wash over you. The sudden realization of just how dire your situation seems to suffocate you.

This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been so annoying Minho never would have tripped. If you were strong enough you would have been able to carry him all the way. Why weren’t you strong enough?

The soft call of your name shakes you out of your stupor, it’s followed by a hand pressed against the side of your face. It’s only when his thumb swipes against your cheek that you realize you’re crying.

“I’m sorry.” You shift slightly until you’re sitting down, knees pulled up to your chest. He follows and sits next you with his legs stretched out, hissing as he accidentally drags his ankle across the ground. “This is my fault.” Staring at the exposed part of his ankle, your stomach swirls at the dark purple bruising.

When he notices you staring he’s quick to pull his pant leg down, “This isn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have been running backwards.” He watches you for a second, contemplating, before he speaks again, “You can still leave now and make it.”

“I’m not talking about this again.”

“Why not-”

“I just can’t leave you behind okay! It would kill me knowing that I got us into this mess and I couldn’t get both of us out alive.”

“So you’re just going to kill yourself because you would feel bad if you didn’t?” At his harsh words you whip your head to look at him, surprised to find him angry, his nose flaring and teeth gritting.

“Why are you getting so mad?! And you know it’s more than that! I’m not leaving you here, you can yell all you want but it’s not going to change anything.”

He throws his hands up in the air in indignation, “Why?! Why do you have to be so stubborn!” His tone is harsh and he practically spits his words at you.

A flurry of emotions lodges in your throat and a burning, hot anger ignites in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your lips are moving faster than your brain can process, “Because I love you, you idiot! I can’t just leave you behind because you're the reason I haven’t jumped the shucking Cliff yet!” Your heart is beating impossible fast and for a split second you wonder if it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You watch as Minho’s face morphs into an expression of shock and before you can identify the emotion swirling in his eyes you swear you can hear someone's footsteps.

You scramble to your feet, straining your ears in hopes that you weren’t imagining it. In the distance you hear the rushed strides of someone running in your direction and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat. It was far too late for another runner to be out in the Maze.

“Hey!” Cupping your hands around your mouth you hope they hear you. You hear Minho grunt and the sound of him dragging against the stone wall as he stands.

His voice rings through Maze as he calls out.

After a moment of tense silence you hear the quick foot falls of another runner getting closer before you spot his familiar blond hair turning the corner.

“Ben! Oh my god!”

He comes to a stop in front of you, his expression worried, “What are you guys still doing here? The Doors are closing soon!”

“Minho got hurt and I wasn’t able to carry him all the way back. Why are you out so late?”

“I figured I’d stay out later than usual. Had a bad feeling.” He glances over your shoulder to look at Minho. “We need to get going if we want to make it in time.”

Nodding your head, you turn around and make your way over to where Minho is leaning against the wall. You can feel his eyes on you, pleading for you to look at him but you’re adamant at avoiding eye contact. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Ben glancing back and forth between you, no doubt feeling the tension.

Having someone else there to help made carrying Minho infinitely easier and the three of you stumbled through the doors just as they began to groan, closing behind you.

“What took you so bloody long?” The familiar accent of Newt floats across the Glade but you’re too exhausted to even look in his direction. It isn’t until he’s standing right in front of you that you tear your eyes from Ben and Minho as they make their way to the Med-Jack hut.

“Minho fractured his ankle and got a concussion.” Your hands clench in anger as you speak, “If it hadn’t been for Ben we wouldn’t have made it out.”

“Aren’t you going to go check on him?” Newt frowns at you.

The thought of being in the same room with Minho after you practically dumped your heart out on him made your stomach churn. “No, I think- I think I’m just going to let him rest for now.”

Newt opens his mouth to comment, no doubt going to point out that you never left Minho’s side but you’re quick to interrupt him. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to go shower and get some rest.” You force a smile and begin to walk in the direction of the showers before he’s able to speak.

It seems to take ages to get to the bathrooms. Fatigue makes your limbs feel sluggish and the adrenaline of being in the Maze ebbs away, leaving aching muscles in its wake. You can’t seem to shake the thoughts of Minho as you scrub yourself clean. He probably wanted nothing to do with you and your big fat mouth. If you’d only bitten your tongue for another minute you wouldn’t have this looming air of regret suffocating you.

The regret seems to pull tighter against your throat when you notice your hammock, still twisted from this morning. Tears gather at your waterline, threatening to spill over. The view in front of you is distorted and watery and your fingers fumble with the twisted strings before you give up, whining in frustration.

You pause for a moment before turning in the direction of the Med-Jack hut, your heart desperately yearning to see him. Before you have time to think, you’re wiping your teary eyes with the back of your hand and practically jogging to the little run down shack, ignoring the throbbing pain in your legs.

Hesitating at the door you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you’re pushing against it. The room is silent, both Clint and Jeff having left and gone to bed. Scanning the room you notice a bed in the corner, Minho sleeping peacefully under it’s covers. His face slack as he rests, his forehead covered by a thin, white bandage that stretches around his head. As you silently pull up a chair to his bedside you study him, it isn’t often you get to see his face when it isn’t creased with stress or in any expression other than a smirk.

Smiling softly. you reach up and pull his blanket up a little higher until it covers his shoulders, the night had a cold edge to it despite it being well into summer. After sitting there for a few minutes your eyelids begin to get heavy, like something was weighing them down. For a moment the idea of walking back to your hammock crosses your mind but you immediately dismiss it, just thinking about getting up is exhausting. You cross your arms on the side of his bed and rest your head against them. It doesn’t take long before the comfort of sleep consumes you.

Garbled words and the feeling of something brushing against your face is what wakes you this time. Opening your eyes, the first thing you notice are Minho’s pretty brown ones staring back at you, the next thing you notice are the hushed snickers from behind you. Shooting up straight you feel the warm rush of embarrassment flood your cheeks.

“It was about time you woke up!” Clint pipes up, “Lover boy here hasn’t stopped staring at you since we came in here to check on him.”

This time, pink begins to tint Minho’s cheeks and creep up his neck, “Slim it! Get outta here would ya?”

“Okay! We’re going!” You turn around just in time to see Clint pushing Jeff out the door and throwing you a wink before shutting the door.

The awkwardness is palpable as you stare down at your lap. The bed creaks as Minho shifts to sit up against the headboard, the sound seeming incredibly loud in the silence. Mustering up your courage you finally speak.

“I’m sor-”

“I love you too!’

Your head shoots up as he interrupts you, eyes wide as you take in his expression that mirrors your own.

“What?”

His body language tells you that he had most definitely not meant to say that, his mouth moving up and down as he tries to figure out what to say.

Your heart catches in your throat as you process his words, “You love me?”

At the slow nod of his head, a beaming smile splits your face, and before you can stop yourself you're pulling him into a crushing hug. Caught off guard, he stiffens for a moment as you wrap your arms around him but as soon as you let out a shaky breath against his neck he winds his arms around you.

“Is this okay?”

At your hushed tone he pulls you tighter against him, “This is more than okay.”

[narakurosaki]

title: kiss it better

summary: when her fiancé makes and unexpected visit home, showing him how much she’s missed him is all she wants to do.

rating: m for pure smut

words: 2824

read on ao3!

She pushes his coat off of his shoulders; he pulls his arms from the sleeves and the fabric falls to the floor, metal buckles clanking against the wooden floorboards. His suitcase topples over, startling the sleeping dog in the corner of the room. His nose twitches, eyes focusing on the familiar presence devouring his master. He bounds to their side and places his front paws on the man’s body. He barks.

“Shh, Den, quiet!” Edward shoos the dog away, earning a whine from Winry.

“Ignore him,” she mumbles against his lips, “and just kiss me.”

He moans into the kiss, sending a chill down her spine. “What about Granny?”

Her fingers weave through his hair tie. She tugs and his hair falls down his back. “What about her?”

“She’ll hear—” Den barks, again. “No! Shh!”

“He’s excited to see you.” Kissing his lips is difficult with how much he’s talking. She takes her kisses elsewhere, peppering them along his jaw. “I’m excited to see you, too.”

His head falls back, granting her further access. “Mm, I can tell.”

Three months spent in Creta, and Edward had returned to Resembool for a visit. He’d arrived late into the night, tiptoeing up the stairs and into her bedroom. Den had stirred from his spot on the floor; combined with the squeaking of her door’s hinges, Winry awoke to a pleasant surprise. She’d peered into the darkness, her vision adjusting with each blink. His form was masked by the night, but she could make out the silhouette of her fiancé kneeling down to pat Den upon the head. “Edward,” she’d whispered his name, and he’d flashed a toothy grin in her direction, apologizing for waking her. He’d insisted she stay in bed, but Winry had had other ideas. Her legs swung over the edge of her bed, feet planted firmly on the ground; she’d all but ran in his direction, launching herself at him. He had caught her—he always caught her—and swung her in a half-circle, holding her tight.

She had kissed him, several pecks with words in-between. “I missed you so much.”

He had grinned against her lips, mumbling, “I missed you, too.”

But the kisses had grown hungry, Winry’s hands had roamed the valley of skin beneath his shirt. He had erupted in laughter, had placed his hands on her shoulders, but made no effort to stop her. “Slow down, slow down! Don’t you want to hear how I caught that shark?”

“After,” she’d murmured, “Let me show you how much I missed you.” And that was all he’d needed to hear.

Her fingers impatiently work the buttons of his vest, her lips brush against his neck. She can feel him shudder, hear him suck in a breath. She grins and presses her body against his, sharply inhaling when she feels something hard against her thigh. In her lustful haze, she fumbles with the fourth button down.

“Nooo,” she whines, pulling away from his neck to examine the button. “Dammit!”

He pushes her hands aside, breathless and smiling. “Move, let me do it.”

As his hands undo the remaining buttons, Winry assists by pushing the vest off of his body. It falls to the ground, crumpling atop his jacket. She avoids further fumbling, allowing him to unbutton his shirt. Again, she pushes the fabric off of his body, and rubs her palms along his bare skin. Her fingers play with the chain around his neck—after presenting her with an engagement ring made from the metal removed from his right arm, Edward had provided her with a leather necklace to tie the ring around when working. The gesture had inspired Winry to craft a chain for his future wedding ring, and Ed wore it proudly, as though it was his own proof of their engagement. She grins up at him.

Golden eyes roam her body, hands following suit. He touches her through the fabric of her—his—shirt. He smirks. “Is this my shirt?”

“What,” she grasps the hem of the oversized t-shirt and tugs outwards, “this? Hm, it may have been yours at some point, but it’s mine, now.”

He grins and grips the fabric, tugging it off of her body. Her arms reach towards the ceiling as he slips it off of her. She stands in only her black underwear, breasts bared. Her nipples are erect from arousal. He wastes no time in palming one, giving it a gentle squeeze. He slips an arm around her waist as she whimpers.

“No fair.” Her head falls against his shoulder, teeth biting at her bottom lip. “You’re not naked.”

“Neither are you, he breathes beside her ear, a chill shooting down her spine. He takes her earlobe between his teeth and sucks. Winry’s fingers tangle themselves in his hair, gently pulling at the roots. He releases her earlobe to begin his assault on her neck, encouraged by her actions. He backs her against the wall and positions his knee between her legs. He presses it against her core, a surprised moan escaping her.

“You’re teasing.”

He offers a shrug as his lips press against the dip in her collarbone. He sucks on her skin, a satisfying pop! rings in their ears as he pulls away. “Maybe a little.”

Winry can hardly take it. Between the attention he’s giving her breast, and that he’s giving with his mouth, the pleading ache between her legs intensifies. A hand grips the small of his back for leverage, her lips parting in a silent moan as she rocks against his knee. It isn’t quite what she wants, but it will do for the time being.

His mouth detaches from her chest, a trail of love marks left in his wake. “Someone’s impatient.”

“It’s been three months, Ed,” she breathes, “Cut me some slack.”

“You could’ve easily—”

She shakes her head. “Not the same.”

She’d touched herself before, imagining his fingers slipping inside of her. It had gone on for months, growing more frequent after prolonged make out sessions. She’s often heard the bathroom door closing behind him, and the water running in the shower. He wouldn’t emerge for at least half-an-hour. Winry always knew what he was doing, that he was picturing her just as she pictured him. They’d made love for the first time not long after, their sexual appetites, teenage hormones, and suppressed feelings for one another boiling over. They hadn’t felt the need to pleasure themselves for the two years Edward had spent in Resembool. He’d departed to the country of Creta in early spring, and Winry for Rush Valley a week later. She found herself missing him immensely after reading his handwritten letters and listening to his soothing voice on the phone. It was only natural that she’d seek the release she could not achieve with him so far away.

But her fingers weren’t the same. They weren’t as long, weren’t as large, and far too calloused for her liking. Her thumb moved awkwardly against her clitoris until she grew frustrated and threw in the towel. She’d called him, despite the time of night, and complained about her late night adventure.

He’d only laughed, ticking her off until he’d explained that he’d gave it a go two days prior. His hand was way too big, he’d said, and his palm far too smooth. What bothered him the most, however, was his inability to replicate the sensation she gave him whenever she ran the pad of her thumb across his tip.

She feels his hands on her hips, halting her movements. His thumbs hook into the thing waistband of her underwear and tug them down her legs. She finishes the job by kicking them aside, just as the hand at her breast disappears between her legs.

He spreads her folds and runs his index finger from bottom to top, lingering against the bundle of nerves housed there. She throws her head back, hitting the wall with a thud! and cries out his name.

“Shh! You’ll wake Granny.”

The yearning to live on their own hits her the hardest in these moments. For two years, the couple had been forced to keep as quiet as they could, lest they face a pounding on the wall from Ed’s little brother, or a knowing smile from Winry’s grandmother. She wants nothing more than to be as loud as she could be, letting him know just how amazing he made her feel. And while she could deal with the teasing from her grandmother, Edward could not.

Right now, she doesn’t give a shit.

His index finger is replaced by his thumb. Two fingers enter her, Winry claws at his back and moans his name. Edward does his best to muffle the sound with his lips.

“Damn,” he chuckles as the kiss breaks. His lips are swollen. “Am I really that good?”

“Sh-shut it—” A moan tears past her lips as Ed curls his fingers inside of her. “Fuck. Fuck, Ed.”

Her inner walls begin to clench around his fingers, her natural lubrication making it way too easy for his fingers to glide in and out. Her legs begin to quiver, Ed’s hand begins to move faster, and her hips buck erratically. There’s an explosion of stars behind her eyes. Her fingernails dig into his skin, ears barely registering a hiss as she claws at the scar around his shoulder. She sinks her teeth into his unscarred skin to silence the scream threatening to break free.

When all is said and done, and Winry can no longer hold herself up, Edward retracts his fingers and prevents her from crumbling at his feet. He wipes his fingers on his pants. “I’ll be honest with you, Win—I’m dying over here. Just let me know when yo—”

“I’m… ready…” she struggles between breaths, words muffled by his neck. “Fuck, Ed, I need you now.”

He knows better than to question her, knows better than to insist she take a moment to collect herself. When Winry wanted something, she wouldn’t stop until she had it, even if that meant overexerting herself.

“Alright,” he unbuttons and unzips his pants, tugging them and his boxers down. He gropes Winry’s ass and lifts her off of the ground, a squeak coming from her throat. Her legs wrap around his waist instinctively, and Edward’s cock twitches from the contact of her skin. He needed her just as much as she needed him.

He travels the short distance to her bedside table, clumsily opening the drawer and retrieving the package of condoms they kept stored there. He pops it open, retrieves one, and hands it to Winry. “Would you do the honors?” he grins. She obliges and rolls the latex over his length.

Her back hits the mattress as Edward allows them to fall. Every muscle in her body is tired, but the ache between her legs has returned with a vengeance. She was being greedy, seeking a second orgasm after the first explosive one. But Ed had spoiled her, fascinated by the fact that women could achieve multiple orgasms in one session. Men did not possess such an ability, but her fiancé took satisfaction in pleasing her. There really was no reason to complain. She was luckier than most, she knew.

She draws him in with her legs, moaning as he rubs against her slick center. Thankfully, he wastes no time in entering her, burying himself to the hilt as he groans through his teeth. She readily accepts him, vaginal muscles contracting around his length, desperate to keep him inside. He begins to move, rocking his hips back and forth at a slow and steady pace. His hair falls past his shoulders and tickles her face. She giggles, he smiles.

Winry bucks her hips upward to meet his thrusts, enhancing their experience. She’d discovered it by mistake, moving her hips as she arched her back, granting him deeper access within. She’d wondered how they’d gone so long without it, and forgotten what it felt like prior. She gasps as he speeds up, a telltale sign that he was close. Admittedly, she was extremely close, too, left incredibly sensitive after her first orgasm.

His chain dangles in her face, hitting her nose with every thrust he gives. Something within her screams out—her throat goes dry, that familiar ache returns, and a warmth brews in her stomach. She grasps the chain and pulls him down, lips licking with his, albeit clumsily. Their teeth clack, and Winry slips her tongue inside of his mouth. Edward struggles to reciprocate the kiss, far too busy on making love to her. She takes his bottom lip between her teeth as he pulls away, leaving it red and swollen. The tip of his tongue glides against the indents left behind, and she smirks up at him. He grips the back of her knee and pushes her leg towards her body. He does the same with her other leg, pushing further inside. Winry’s back arches, lips parted in a silent scream as he hits the most sensitive spot within her over and over and over again.

His hands cling to her thighs; her nails draw blood from his back. His thrusts grow faster, Winry’s moans become more frequent, and Ed chants her name. With one final thrust, and one final clench, the two come together, Winry growing rigid, and Edward shaking. His orgasm ends before hers, and he collapses atop her as she continues to claw at his back and moan his name. Her walls clench around him repeatedly as her climax nears its conclusion, earning exhausted moans from the man on top of her.

As the final waves of her orgasm wash over her, Winry’s arms go limp and fall to her sides. Her legs fall to either side of him, and she lies motionless beneath him, chest heaving as she struggles to catch her breath. She sees only darkness behind her eyelids, the fireworks having had fizzled out. The cool temperature of Ed’s automail leg is comforting against her skin. A euphoria washes over her, a giddy smile spread across her face. Her arms move slowly, fingertips tracing the scratch marks etched into his skin. Her legs wrap themselves around his waist, hugging him close to her body. She whines when he begins to soften inside of her.

His lips drag across the width of her neck. She squirms beneath him and hums. “Missed you,” her words slur. “Missed you so much.”

A gasp escapes her as Edward grasps her sides and rolls them. He falls out of her midway. “God dammit,” he groans. They both wished he could stay inside of her forever. “Dicks are stupid.”

His hands reach between them, knuckles unintentionally brushing along her core. A throaty moan rings in the air as he removes his condom. She watches in a daze as he ties the end and throws it in the wastebasket by her workbench. It hits the wall and falls in. He pumps a fist in the air.

“You’re so lame.”

His eyes narrow. “You didn’t think so a bit ago.”

Winry shrugs and nuzzles into the crook of his neck. She wraps her arms around his body. “That’s the only time you aren’t lame.”

His fingertips trace invisible patterns along her back—circles and intricate designs. He was tracing transmutation circles again her skin. She really had fallen in love with a weirdo.

“…Bet you won’t think I’m lame when I tell you how I caught that shark.”

Her eyes dart open and she plants her hands atop his chest. She pushes herself up, ignoring the wobbling in her arms, and glares at him. “That’s your idea of pillow talk?”

He blinks. “Didn’t you get the photo I sent you?”

“Yes, I got the photo you sent!”

“Then you saw how huge it was! I even have one of its teeth in my luggage—”

The rest of his words fall upon deaf ears. His hands demonstrate various sizes—the shark? Its tooth? The boat? She has no idea, nor does she care at the moment.

But the excitement in his golden eyes and the smile on his face as he retells the story gives her butterflies. She settles back atop his chest, fingers splayed across his pec, one hand tangled in his hair. She massages his scalp and closes her eyes.

She’d fall asleep, soon, missing the majority of his story, but she knows he won’t mind. He’ll retell it over breakfast, where her grandmother could hear, and where he could show off the tooth he’d taken as his trophy.

As she drifts off into a slumber, the last thing she hears is Edward explaining how he’d asked for a copy of the photograph to send to his fiancé back in Amestris.

God, she really was in love with a weirdo, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[imagineaworlds]

I Love You (Part Fifty) -- Aaron Hotchner

Written By: @desperately-bisexual

Request: None.

Warnings: SMUT!! Cursing. Unprotected sex. Wrap it before you tap it, ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary sibs. Dom/sub relationship. Sub switching (Dom!reader, sub!Hotch). Bondage (ropes and handcuffs). Sex toys (vibrating cockring). Gag (using a suit tie). Edging. Name calling. Impregnation kink. Stop light safe word system. Cock warming for aftercare (to prevent sub dropping). Oh, boy. Sin. Just pure sin. The reader does go by they/them pronouns, however, Hotch refers to them as female when saying “good girl”.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Greenaway!Reader

Word Count: 6855

Timeline: Right after part forty-nine.

Criminal Minds Discord Server

I recognized that look in his eyes. It was the same one I had every time I was in his position. Lust mixed with fear of the unknown of what was to come. There was an insatiable desire to reach out, to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me, to fuck me; all of which he couldn’t have. This started as his game, one which he thought he could win at every time. To his surprise, though, I managed to win— likely just this once, but still— and I was going to take advantage of this opportunity, there was no doubt. Hence, the look in his eyes.

Hotch’s whole body tensed as he heard the click of the black box opening. He was watching me intently, trying to figure out my next moves before I could even make them, but he didn’t have enough experience in the position he was in to build a profile about my behaviors just yet. I didn’t keep him waiting too long like he enjoyed doing with me. I grabbed the longer lengths of rope that we had rolled up in the bottom of the box, and I showed him as soon as I had a grip on them. He tensed again, his erect cock twitching slightly in his pants at the sight of me unraveling the lengths of rope.

I smirked as I laid the untangled ropes over his thighs, just to see how he would react. He jumped slightly. He was on edge… I couldn’t blame him when I always acted the same way. It looked like he almost wanted to plead for mercy, just like he always made me do. It was nice to see him like that, having already relinquished control, excited to know more about my plans.

As I crawled onto the bed, my legs straddling his thighs, Hotch instinctively made a move to reach out for me, but he immediately stopped himself when he remembered the rules. No touching. I grinned slightly before biting my bottom lip seductively. He looked so good for me, his chest bare, his blue dress pants still on, his forehead already beginning to sweat as he anticipated my torture and love. I wondered if that was how I always looked while trying my hardest to obey the rules despite how hard he tried to make me break them. I wanted him to reach out, I wanted him to dare to touch me, to kiss me, to buck his hips up to beg me for more. I wanted him to break the rules in order to give me an excuse to torture him more. He was already in trouble for using me in the car the other morning at the park, and then forgetting that it was Valentine’s Day today. He told me that he would make it up to me, and he was certainly trying his best.

When we got home from the bar, Hotch tried pushing me against the wall and claiming dominance, but I had to remind him that I was the one who won our race the other day, meaning that I still had to claim my prize. He whined— Aaron Hotchner, of all people, whining in my ear— and he grinded his hips against mine for friction, but I pushed him away.

“I won’t let you cum at all if you keep it up,” I said sternly.

I bet Hotch was regretting the competition altogether, but most importantly, how his strict dominance had been teaching me a thing or two about how to put him in his place. We didn’t switch often because I liked being out of control, and he liked watching me writhe; but there were times like this where I found it arousing to see him realize that he had no choice but to be obedient. It was like that night we were going to JJ’s Superbowl party a couple years ago. That night had never left my mind, and I always wondered if we would have another scene like it. I mean, there were times where Hotch liked having me on top… Actually, if we weren’t doing a scene, he preferred it. But there was something different about making him submissive to me. The thought alone was so intoxicating I felt like I could have jumped in then and there, but would have been the point, then?

When we had finally moved to the bedroom, I tore off Hotch’s suit jacket, pulled off his tie as quickly as I could, then shoved him onto the bed. He let me do with him as I pleased, keeping in mind that I had earned this, even though I technically cheated. He had a few days to argue this, but he never did, and he still wasn’t. He wanted this, and that made me want him more. Yet, I paced myself, taking my time unbuttoning his shirt. I had an obsession with his chest and how he would constrict with the slightest of touches. He had always been like that, even long before Foyet attacked him, but now it was twofold because of that. While I was first scared of touching him after that, he insisted that he was fine and he liked how handsy I got with his chest, and he never wanted that to stop. It took some time to get used to it, but now it was easy to ignore the scars and just focus on how he shivered under my touch.

“Please,” he whispered quietly, letting the plea just barely fall off his lips like he hadn’t meant to do it because he was too focused on staying still.

“Please… what, baby?” I asked with the same quiet, considerate tone. I wanted to keep him at ease, to make sure that this was still fine and that he wasn’t going to hate it. He liked what happened the night of the Superbowl, and I liked the trouble that it got me into, but Hotch, by nature, wasn’t a submissive. If there was any chance that he was going to be uncomfortable, then it wasn’t worth it. I loved him too much to not care about what he wanted. “Tell me.”

“More.” He bucked his hips.

I put more of my weight down on his thighs to keep him still. “Hands,” I demanded quietly.

Hotch immediately held his wrists out of me, pressing them together because he already knew what was coming. I kissed his knuckles gently as I collected his wrists in my grip. His fingers stretched, trying to hold my face tenderly. Despite how fast we were moving and how aroused both of us were, the urge to leap into action and just fuck each other crazy hadn’t settled yet. Maybe it was the fact that it was Valentine’s Day, or maybe it was the fact that we were taking it slow to make sure that this was something we both really wanted, but we left some time to just be sensual and catch our breaths. Besides, it didn’t hurt that the slower I would take things, the more desperate he would get for me, which, in my book, was a win.

“Just breathe,” I told him as I leaned down and kissed his lips. He let out a sigh through his nose before leaning up slightly to kiss me harder. While he was distracted with still trying to prove his dominance the only way he could, through our shared kiss, I started wrapping the rope around his wrists. He gasped at the bite of the rope as I pulled it tight. “Just breathe.”

As I tied off the rope to create an inescapable restraint, I leaned up from his lips to watch him struggle and pull. He tried with all his might to separate his wrists, his biceps bulging and his chest tightening as he did so. Just as I wanted. When he realized that he wasn’t going anywhere and that I was getting a little too much out of watching him spar with his restraints. Displeased with the way he profiled my excitement, I grabbed the ends of the rope, the extra lengths I had left for the rest of my plan and tugged. He whimpered at the feeling but fell silent as I leaned over him to tie him to the headboard.

While I had strategically leaned over him in a way that my cleavage would be right in his face, I hadn’t expected him to crane his neck up and attack my collarbone with a nibbling kiss. My strength weakened as he started leaving a mark and bucked his hips up again.

“Stop it,” I growled in his ear.

“I need you,” he whined. I swear, I could never get over that. “Please.”

“Not yet.” I leaned back up and slid down his thighs a bit more so that he couldn’t reach me in any way and if he tried to buck his hips again, it wouldn’t do anything to give either of us the relief we wanted. “Pull.” I wanted to admire my work. I wanted to take a moment to just be in his shoes for once and see what was so appealing about watching me struggle.

He did as he was told, yanking at the rope to test his mobility against the headboard. Nothing. He had maybe two to three inches of wiggle room away from it, but that was it. Hotch slumped. “I hate you.”

“Now you get it.” I smirked.

I reached down and started fiddling with his belt buckle, my hands so close to where he needed me most, but not yet daring to venture there. Hotch immediately stopped moving. Every inch of him was still, the only thing to notice was his wide eyes and the way he was biting his lip. When I finally got the buckle undone, he released his lip, letting out a breath of relief, even though I hadn’t done anything to free him yet. As I pulled off the belt, though, carefully sliding the leather out of each of the loops, Hotch rose his hips to help me, but then obediently lowered them when I was done.

Suddenly, Hotch let out a loud moan as my wrist accidentally passed over his hardened length. “I’m going to spank you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week,” he hissed as he calmed himself down.

I tsked my tongue. “Nuh uh, that wasn’t the deal of the competition. You can’t punish me for anything I do tonight.”

“Fuck the rules—”

A breathless moan escaped him as I caught him off guard by palming him through his pants on purpose this time to get him to stop talking. “You always have such a mouth on you…” My fingers danced over his tip as his pants continued to strain around him. “I always get punished for talking back, but you…” I did it again and he moaned once more. “You’re worse because you think I’d never do anything to you.” I stopped touching him all together and rolled off the bed. “Maybe, just maybe, this’ll do the trick.” I opened up the black box again and pulled out a toy for Hotch. I turned to face him, rolling it in my hands, taking note of how he gulped and widened his eyes. “You trust me?” I inquired. He nodded instantly. “Color?”

“Green, baby.”

He seemed more eager than I had ever seen him before. I didn’t realize that he would be into this. I thought that he might have found it to be a bit much; but then again, we had reviewed everything in that box together, talking about what they did and what Hotch would be interested in using. While we mainly focused on the toys that we could use on me— since that was our dynamic— we had still discussed this. But I never thought in a million years that he would actually want to use this.

As I sat back down on his thighs, Hotch shifted to get more comfortable, and I let him. “Hotch,” I put a hand on his chest to signify a pause and to clarify sincerity, “you tell me if we need to stop. I’m serious.”

His eyes searched mine for a moment before he said, “Kiss me.” I obliged, knowing that we both needed it. “I love you.”

I winked at him as I moved down to kiss his cheek, jawline, neck, collarbone, pecks, stomach, and… He sucked in a breath as I worked my way down to where he needed me most. When he thought that I would finally touch him, I grinned to myself and started kissing back up his body. My hands held his sides, my thumbs running over his scars out of habit.

I loved every bit of Hotch, no matter what he looked like. While I could have argued all day that I definitely loved him more with the beard, he always knew that I was joking. But his scars were just as much a part of him as his eyes and nose were. They had bad memories attached to them, of course, but they reminded me every day how lucky I was to have him still and how I would do anything for him. There were hundreds of different instances where I nearly lost him, but the scars were a reminder that even if the worst could happen, I would still have him. He was there, in my arms, between my legs, and he was all mine. I loved him. Every fucking inch of him.

He liked leaving marks on my neck, I could show the same courtesy. So, as I nibbled lightly and sucked a patch of skin on his neck as payback for earlier when he did it without permission, my hands squeezed his sides again to feel him tense up underneath me.

When I was content with the obvious hickey my lips started making their way down again. I could feel him still straining in his pants, begging for release, begging for attention. I wasn’t going to give him anything, though. Not yet. Hotch liked teasing me, to dance around what I needed most in order to put me on edge, to make me more desperate for him. The more I wanted him, the better our sex was. He knew that, I knew that, and that was exactly why he did it every damn time. After four years of knowing Hotch, and learning about his tricks as a dominant, I knew a thing or two about torturing him and making him need me more.

“You’re so hard, baby,” I cooed, kissing the buttons on his pants. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what I’m thinking about,” he hissed.

“Tell me.”

Hotch lifted his head to squint at me, but I didn’t double back on my order. My fingers played with the waistband of his pants, putting the idea into his mind that I would pull them off if he just answered.

“I’m thinking about finally being inside of you.”

I undid the first button. “And?”

He caught onto my game and eagerly made his next play. “Having you ride me.” The next button popped open. “Cumming inside you…” I slowly started pulling his zipper down. “Feeling you clench around me as you cum around my cock.” I grabbed the waistband again. “I can practically already hear you screaming my name.” He threw his head back as he worked with me to help me pull his pants off. “And…” he fell silent as his pants fell to the floor, leaving him in his underwear.

“Don’t stop.”

He gulped. “I can’t—” He shivered as I ran my hands up and down his thighs slowly. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Try.” I grabbed the waistband of his underwear now, hesitating to pull them down until I got at least one more thing from him.

“I— Please…”

“One more.”

“I can’t wait to feel the toy on me—”

His mouth fell agape as I pulled his underwear down, his erection finally springing free. When he was finally nude, finally presented bare for me, I took a moment to admire him. I had never seen him look so panicked yet so in love. He seemed like he was scared of what was to come, but he was excited for the pleasure that would come out of it. Just as I always was. I liked that the tables were turned around for once. He spent years torturing me like this, and I was finally getting the chance to get back at him. This was practically a once in a lifetime kind of experience, considering how careful he’d be in the future to make sure I’d never get this opportunity again.

I was going to ruin him.

I took my index finger and carefully reached out to run the pad of my nail up and down his length slowly. I was barely hovering my touch over him, and he was already bucking around to feel me. I eyed him sternly, pulling my hand away before I could even touch him for a single moment, and he whined, letting his body fall limp again. Slowly, I shuffled down his thighs, moving them apart slightly so that I could rest between them while sitting on my knees. Hotch lifted his head off the pillows so that he could watch me as I bent down, my face level with his cock, begging for my attention, and my ass up in the air. I bet he was thinking about fucking me like that because his erection twitched with anticipation, and I smiled before sticking my tongue out.

Starting at the base of his cock, I licked a gentle stripe up his shaft. He moaned and pulled at the ropes. I pulled away from him to give him a look that warned him to be careful. When he was settled again, I brought my index finger to hip tip and slowly caressed it, spreading his precum around. He wiggled anxiously, twitching against my touch. He was so fucking sensitive. I loved it. This whole time, he wanted me to touch him, and while it was probably a relief to feel something, it was probably torture that I was only touching the places where it was nearly painful if teased for too long.

“Please— Y/N—” He threw his head back. “Fuck— Baby girl— Ah—” I flattened my tongue on his tip, licking up the mess I had made of him. “Y/N—”

“Stop making noise,” I demanded. A smirk suddenly flashed on my face as a thought occurred to me. “Or I’ll gag you.” Using his own threats against him was so satisfying, but the look on his face was priceless.

I tasted him again, this time circling his tip with my tongue, my fingers dancing lightly at the base. Through my lashes, I could see him holding back moans and pleas by choosing to pant and bite his lip instead. I decided to push further, see what reactions I could get out of him. How much longer until he would break? I tested it by leaning forward slightly, allowing myself the angle to wrap my lips around his girth.

“Y/N!” He tugged as hard as he could, his legs pulling up and in towards his body slightly.

I had hardly even put my mouth on him, and I already broke him. He was such a mess. Even more so when I took my mouth off of him and squeezed his thighs. “I warned you.” I stretched to the side of the bed, not quite getting off of Hotch, but not applying the same weight on his legs as before. I reached down to the floor and grabbed his red tie that I had torn off of him earlier. When I settled back on his thighs, I rolled and crumpled the tie in my hands, forming it into a loose ball that would unravel if I stopped applying pressure around it. “Open.”

“You’re not seri—”

Before he could utter anything else, I shoved the tie in his open mouth. He yelled behind it, but he was muffled now, unable to enunciate anything.

“You’re right about gagging; it is nice to finally be left to work in silence.” I smirked and sat up, reaching to the side for the toy I had grabbed from the black box earlier.

He pulled at his restraints, knowing what was about to come. While he probably didn’t want to stop me entirely, he probably wasn’t too keen on the idea of me torturing him with it until I was content with his squirming and pleading.

“Hold still.” I grabbed his face and made him look at me. “Knock for Colors.” He knocked three times before I could even go through them with him again. “I love you,” I whispered as I dragged my nails down his chest slowly. His abs tightened at the feeling, earning a wider smirk from me. “Remember to breathe.”

I turned the toy around in my hands, finding the right way to go about putting it on. His breath shallowed as he focused on breathing, just as I instructed. I gripped the outside of the toy and slowly started lowering it over his cock. His hips lightly bucked in response at first, but then he fell apart into a puddle of loose moans behind his gag as I continued to slide it down every inch of him even slower.

“Fuck, baby,” I couldn’t help but moan at the sight.

The cock ring was so tight on him… I could feel him flexing inside of it, trying to adjust to the cold plastic feeling that was nowhere near as satisfying as being inside of me, but it was still a relief to feel more than just my light touches that were slowly killing him. Then, as it settled towards his balls, Hotch let out a relieved groan, his eyes screwing shut, his head falling back. My eyes focused on his face, trying to get a read on if he was still alright, but then I saw that there was a smile hidden behind his gag. And I thought that I was the masochist.

“I can’t believe you,” I chuckled. Hotch opened his eyes slowly to look at me. “You’re worse than me.” I ran my finger up his length again, yearning a light scream from him. “Color.” He knocked three times after hesitating a moment to let out another moan as I fisted my hand around his length. “Do you remember what this does?” I asked, tapping the cock ring lightly with my other hand. He nodded. “You’ll knock if you want to stop?” He nodded again. “Good.”

My hand moved up and down his dick, stopping just above where the cock ring began. I couldn’t believe how hard he was, and I couldn’t believe that he actually loved this as much as he was. I expected that he would enjoy it, but he’d get frustrated and ask to have it taken off… But he was loving every second of it, despite how tight it was around him. The best part hadn’t even come yet, and he was already puddy in my hands. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what his reaction was going to be when the next step approached.

“Baby—” he moaned through the gag, clear enough for me to understand.

“You want it?”

He nodded. “Please…”

My fingers that had been tapping at the cock ring stilled for a moment as I searched around for the switch on the top. There was a pack at the top of the ring that held a mini vibrator bullet. When turned on, it shook the ring around him, but the best part was that when I would ride him, it would be pressed right against my clit.

Hotch suddenly tugged at the restraints as I found the switch, turning on the vibrator. My hand that was wrapped around him started pumping again slowly to ease his tension, but it actually only seemed to make it worse. His whole body was tensing up. He was focused on pulling against the restraints, trying to see if he could somehow free himself. When I wiped my thumb over his sensitive tip, he immediately went limp again— which was exactly what I wanted.

“Oh…” I pouted on his behalf. “Are you a little sensitive?” He nodded excessively. “If I just…” I leaned down and pressed my tongue to his tip again. For just a moment, I felt how his length was shaking due to the vibrator, but also because he was already so close. I sat up. “Poor thing.” I tore my hands off him and he tugged again. “It took you three hours to realize that you forgot about Valentine’s Day. I’m almost tempted to edge you for three hours just because of that.” His eyes shot wide as he looked up at me again. I chuckled quietly. “What? You don’t want that?” He shook his head. “But I thought I get to do whatever I want tonight.” He shook his head. “You’re already so close,” I chuckled as I took note of how hard he was shaking. “Aren’t you?” He didn’t answer, which meant that he was. I tsked my tongue and turned off the vibrator. Hotch cried out behind his tie. “Color.” He knocked three times. “So good for me,” I bit my lip. When I knew that he had calmed down a bit since his edge, I carefully reached down and turned the vibrator back on. “Does that feel good, baby?” I asked after noticing how he was just a puddle of broken moans.

“Yes, baby girl,” I heard through the gag.

I smirked and put my hand around his length again. He cried out my name as I pumped as fast and hard as I could, stopping just short of the ring every time. Every few seconds or so, I’d take a moment to run my thumb over his tip, feeling how he just kept leaking for me. When I felt him getting close again, I turned off the vibrator and stilled my hand, but I didn’t pull away. Hotch bucked his hips, fucking my hand, thinking that it would tip him over the edge, but I wasn’t going to let that happen. We both knew that he wasn’t getting off that easy. So, he stopped. He hoped that his obedience would convince me to keep going, to make a mistake like letting him cum. But I wasn’t naïve. He was playing the same games I always played with him. Look where those always got me.

This time, once he was calm again, I didn’t turn on the vibrator. My hands continued their movements up and down his length, but this time there was no added stimulation from the toy, and I could see that it was killing him. He really did like it. I mean, over the past few minutes, he had proven to me that he appeared to like it, but I could tell by the way he was begging for me to turn it back on that he genuinely enjoyed the torturous pleasure the toy gave him. The way it squeezed around him, the way it jostled when he’d wiggle, the way it shook his length whenever I turned it on… he loved all of it.

And a thought hit me.

“My needy, little whore…” I whispered under my breath before turning the toy back on.

To my surprise, Hotch smiled and moaned at the slight degradation. It was nothing compared to some of the things he said to me— or could say to me but elected not to; but it came out of the blue, and he seemed to enjoy it. Maybe switching wasn’t as hard for him as I thought. Somehow, it seemed to come naturally to him, which was so odd considering how dominating he was. He loved controlling me, but there was some part of him that was revealing itself that night that was eager to just be used and controlled for once.

I turned the toy off mid thought when I felt him twitch in my hands.

“Fuck—” he screamed. “Baby—”

“I’m sorry, my love,” I cooed, leaning down to kiss his chest gingerly.

He panted against my lips and my chest that was pressed against his stomach. He had been so close that time, and I practically caught him before he could cum, or I could ruin him. Hotch was used to edging. We had done it a thousand times before, but I had never dared to ruin him before. His refractory period wasn’t short at all, and he always got extremely sensitive after climaxing. While that was certainly the ideal type of partner to ruin, Hotch probably would have hated it. Even if he wanted to try, I was sure that he’d end up disliking it, and then he’d feel uneasy by not getting the pleasure of actually tipping over the edge. Besides, his favorite thing to do was to cum inside me and stay there until he was sure that every drop was out… I couldn’t take that away from him when I was already torturing him in every other way. I wasn’t that cruel.

“You okay?” I asked quietly.

He knocked three times, but I just wanted to make sure, so I reached up and gently pulled the gag from his mouth. I made sure to hold his jaw open as I did so, barring him from snapping his mouth shut instinctively, which could’ve hurt him. As the tie left his mouth entirely, I helped him carefully close his mouth so that he could swallow his spit and catch his breath. He stopped panting and stared up at me lustfully.

“I love you,” he whispered. I turned the vibrator back on. “Maybe not—” he moaned. I squinted at him and turned it back off. “Wait— No. I’m sorry, baby, please. I’m sorry.” I turned it back on. “Thank you,” he sighed as he buried the back of his head into the pillow under him.

“And to think that I was actually about to ride you,” I teased. I wasn’t actually quite there yet, but he didn’t know that. His back talk, however, wasn’t helping his case. He told me that he couldn’t wait to be inside me, and I could use that to my advantage. Like now. “I was finally going to slide down on you like this…” I slowly lowered my fists over every inch of him, earning a moan from both of us. “And you were going to cum in me.”

“Please, baby,” he whined desperately. “I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But all you’re going to do is lay there and beg while I keep edging you.”

“I won’t last…”

“And I won’t care.”

“Y/N—” He paused when I cupped a hand over his neck. “Please—” I squeezed lightly. I felt him gulp against my hand. “I’m close again,” he warned, his voice hoarse.

“Beg.”

“No,” he refused, shaking his head vigorously. He was trying so hard to not give in still, despite how desperate he was. I knew the feeling.

“Beg.”

He whimpered and squirmed as he got really close. I was watching him, though, making sure he wouldn’t tip over the edge before I wanted him to. “Fuck, baby. Please. Please, let me cum. I’ll be good for you. Please. Anything. Please.” He let out another moan as his cock twitched. “Please!” He pulled at his restraints, his legs also flexing. I turned off the vibrator before he could cum. “No! Please! Y/N, please, anything, please!”

“Shh…” I cooed, running my nails down his chest lightly to distract him. “You did good, baby. Do you want me?”

He nodded. “Please, baby. Please…” He sounded so deliciously defeated. I loved it. “Ride me.”

I desperately reached for the hem of my shirt, ridding myself of it before anything else. When Hotch saw me in my bra, he let out another sigh, and his cock twitched again, earning a smirk from me. I lifted myself off him slightly so that I could start fidgeting with my black dress pants. I hadn’t been able to change since getting back from California, though it would have been better to wear something nice to the bar earlier, and for this special occasion with Hotch; but it was what it was. I struggled to shuffle my weight around so that I could get out of my pants and underwear while still straddling Hotch. He was still, watching me intently. I could tell that he was trying to be good so that I wouldn’t change my mind about finally fucking him.

“B—Bra—” he stuttered through a sigh once I had my panties off and I sat back down on him. He had been so good for me, taking his edges so well, begging just like I wanted him to; I could do that one thing for him. Besides, he wouldn’t get to touch. I liked that. “You’re so beautiful,” he complimented as I unclasped my bra and it fell off my shoulders. “Please, let me touch you.”

I shook my head. “No.” I put my left palm on his chest and grabbed his length in my right hand. “Still green?” He nodded. “So fucking good for me…” I sighed as I lowered myself down on him painfully slow. His mouth fell agape as he let a sigh mixed with a moan gently escaped him. “So hard for me, baby. Do you like being my little edge slut?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, throwing his head back again.

“Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, baby. I do.”

As I sat down on him entirely, I took a moment for both of us to adjust before turning the vibrator on the cock ring on again. “Shit,” I moaned, falling forward against his chest slightly before I caught myself. I could feel him shaking inside of me while the vibrator was also pressed directly against my clit. I suddenly understood why it was so hard for him to relax with those edges I gave him. “Fuck… Fuck…” I kept my palm pressed against his chest for balance, but my other hand went back up to his neck to keep his head against the pillow. When he was pinned and puddy in my hands, I started riding him. “Hotch…” The vibrator moved against my clit as I rocked my hips.

“I won’t last long, Y/N.”

I had to catch up to him. Though it wouldn’t take long, I knew that I had a lot of desperation to make up for. Hotch had been edged countless times, and he seemed ready to explode whenever. Me, on the other hand, I just needed him to hold on a little longer. The vibrator and his cock were already getting me close as I bounced and rocked on him, but he just had to wait. He could do that for me.

He looked at me with pleading, lustful eyes that made me moan again. I leaned down, my hands still pressed to him, and I kissed him hard. He tugged at his restraints again, trying to touch me and hold me, or maybe even grab ahold of my hips to make me fuck him faster, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Y/N…” he moaned into mouth.

“I’m close, baby. Just hold it. You can do it; I know you can.”

His eyes screwed shut. “I’m trying.” I kissed his jawline. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

“Hold it.”

He was whimpering and whining, his hips still to prevent adding extra stimulation. I didn’t relent, though. I was so close. His cock hit my walls roughly, reaching a deep spot within me that made my knees weak.

“Cum in me, Aaron. Do it.”

I moaned against his jaw as I started falling apart. My stomach tightened into a thousand knots as the vibrator pushed me towards the edge. When I felt him orgasm inside me, his cock twitching, his cum shooting in me, I came for him. Just as he had asked for previously, my walls tightened around him, squeezing every drop out of him that he had to offer while I continued to fuck us through our orgasms.

“Y/N—” he gasped as the vibrator continued to torture his sensitive length. I rolled my hips again. “Fuck,” he hissed angrily. “Stop. Please.” I obeyed, slowing down my pace until I came to a steady halt. “The toy, baby, please— The toy—” He tugged against the restraints as hard as he could before I reached between us to turn the vibrator off. He sighed with relief and relaxed. “Fuck,” he chuckled.

“Was that okay?”

He smirked up at me. “I finally know how you feel.”

“And all it took was four years.”

“Untie me,” he begged, pulling at the restraints again.

I pouted and grinded myself down harder on him. “But you look so good like this, baby.” He hissed between his teeth, tensing up again at the feeling. I grinned and ran my fingers down his tight chest. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss him. His cock moved inside me as I rested my chest against his, our lips locking, his tongue fighting mine for dominance. When he started to win, however, I pulled away from him. “Hold still,” I cooed, stretching over him to start untying him from the headboard. When he was the slightest bit free, he let his arms fall down against the pillows. “Shh… come here…” I gently grabbed his tied wrists and brought them forwards towards me. “So good for me.” I kissed his knuckles again to comfort and distract him while I started undoing the rope around his wrists. When he was released and the rope fell on his chest, I kissed where the rope marks on his wrists were. “So, so good.”

Hotch leaned up slightly. “Did you enjoy your reward?”

I smiled shyly at him and nodded. I was falling down from Dom space, returning to how I usually was around him. I wasn’t crashing, which was a relief. It was a slow, steady, peaceful decline as the euphoria surrounding the situation died out. That mindset included taking the toy off him to make sure he could relax entirely. So, I carefully lifted myself off his length, both of us groaning at the feeling. I wasn’t sure why, but the running every morning and the rough fucking was getting to me more than usual. He was always big inside me, but it was different when my body was already weak while trying to build up muscle from the different kinds of workouts. The empty feeling of him leaving me was nearly unbearable, and I could tell that he was somewhat disappointed, too.

I looked at him as I sat on his thighs, my fingers hovering over the toy. “Just keep relaxing, okay?” He nodded. I gently pinched my thumb and index finger around the ring and started pulling it up. He hissed and fisted the sheets on either side of his body. “I know, baby…” I cooed, still moving. I knew that the sooner I got it off, the sooner he could relax, and we could call it a night. “You’re tensing,” I warned, feeling his thigh muscles constrict beneath me. “Almost there. I swear.” He let out a shaky breath and relaxed again so that I could pull it off the last two inches or so. “You did so good,” I complimented. “You still okay?”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I stretched to put the ring on my bedside table, just to get it out of the way for the time being. Hotch grabbed my hips in his hands. “Baby?” I hummed a listening tone. “I need you.”

“Still?” I chuckled.

He shook his head. “Not like that. I just need to feel you.”

I couldn’t believe that. I mean, I knew that he enjoyed sitting inside me for a while afterwards just because it was too overwhelming to move sometimes; but what he was proposing was different. I didn’t object, though. Not at all. It was an innocent gesture— well, not innocent, but it was more so than what just happened, at least. So, I gave in. We moved together, adjusting slightly to make sure that he was comfortable, and then I grabbed his length, though it wasn’t hard now, and I carefully sat on him again. We both sighed with relief, grateful to feel each other again. And then when I was settled, I finally caught my breath.

“Okay. I’m officially sore,” I sighed as I collapsed over his chest.

His body shook slightly as he laughed and wrapped his arms around me. “Sore from?”

“Training.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

I kissed his peck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

----------

criminal minds family: @peggy1999 @gorgeousdarkangel @alex--awesome--22 @oceaneblu @brithedemonspawn @absolutemarveltrash @bshelley322 @rousethemouse @sunshinepower17 @weexinling @pettttyyyc​ @Braty-angel

[surlybobbies]

deancas AU, 2.4k, T

[It’s a mini pride & prejudice AU if you squint. this is only on tumblr for now, just a rough thing  to tide you over until my bakery AU is finished. some light tws: discussion of sexual harassment, implied homophobia. it’s a happy ending, though, dw.]

-----

Cas met Sam’s brother at a company mixer. 

“I threatened to change my Netflix password if he didn’t come,” Sam said surreptitiously to Cas, casting a look at Dean, sitting a distance away at the bar. “He thinks we’re all stuffy assholes, so I figured he could see for himself.”

Cas was both stuffy and an asshole, but he didn’t mention that. “Well, I hope he has a nice time,” he said. 

Sam clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Thanks, dude, I appreciate that.”

Cas lingered on the outskirts of his party for the next hour or so. Some well-meaning coworkers drew him into bland conversation, but for the most part, Cas was left alone. He found, however, that his gaze kept being drawn to Dean Winchester, whose mouth kept doing sinful things to a beer bottle. Sometimes - though maybe Cas was imagining it - Dean’s eyes would find Cas’s gaze and linger.

A few minutes after Cas’s second beer of the night, Sam found Cas again. “Hey,” Sam said, looking at Cas curiously. “Garth mentioned that you own this place?”

Cas shrugged, a little embarrassed. “My father left it to me. I leave most of the management to others, but I stop by on the weekends to sign off on the bigger things.”

“So that’s how we got such a huge discount,” Sam said. “Thanks, dude. That’s nice of you.”

Cas was not hurting for money, and asshole or not, he’d wanted to do something nice for his colleagues. “Please don’t mention it,” he said, and meant it.

Sam’s smile was wide. He was about to reply, but a commotion by the bar stole their focus. One of Sam and Cas’s colleagues was in Dean’s face, a fist wound back behind his head in an obvious threat. Dean was still on his stool, his hands still cradling his beer bottle on the bar counter, but his chin was raised defiantly toward the other man.

“Shit,” Sam said faintly.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Cas murmured to Sam. He began winding his way through the crowd. By the time he got to the bar, security had already wrestled the other man’s raised fist behind his back and were dragging him - yelling and struggling - toward the exit, leaving Dean to stare after them.

“Should I be concerned?” Cas said, once he got close enough.

Dean’s eyes flicked over Cas’s tie and button down dismissively. “Nah,” he said, taking a swig from his bottle and looking away. “Doesn’t concern you.”

Cas sat on the stool to Dean’s left. “I own this place,” he said, and hoped Dean wouldn’t think it was a brag. “I think it does concern me.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose. A corner of his mouth lifted in mock amusement. He swung his body to face Cas a little more. “Then tell me what you’re doing to keep the ladies tending bar from being harassed by dumbasses like the guy who was just about to knock the skull off my spine.”

Cas looked at Tori behind the bar, who’d been eavesdropping.

She shrugged. “It happens, Cas,” she said. “Part of the job.”

Dean snorted. “‘Specially around these parts, with these stuffy business types who make way too much money for their own good. Think they own anyone who can’t afford a porsche.”

Tori looked sad. 

Cas caught her eye. “Tori, may I speak to you in the back?” 

Dean was looking at him with hard eyes. “Gonna fire her for what I did?”

Cas was taken aback. “Of course not. I wanted her opinion.” He stepped away from Dean. “Thank you for standing up for her.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and turned away, lifting his bottle to his mouth.

Tori was waiting for Cas in the back. She was a young mom working her way through her degree. She was also one of Cas’s hardest workers. 

“He’s good,” Tori said immediately, correctly guessing one of Cas’s questions. “He heard the other guy being an asshole and decided he didn’t want to hear more.”

Cas was still troubled. “You said harassment was part of the job. It shouldn’t be.”

Tori frowned. “I’m a girl behind a bar serving men their alcohol,” she said, as if that were enough of an explanation. “Harassment is part of the job. Doesn’t matter what you think.”

“You still deserve respect,” Cas said, hurt. “You and the others.”

“Duh,” Tori said. “But if you kick out one creep, another one takes his place.”

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, genuinely confused. “Are you suggesting I get used to the idea that my employees get harassed on a regular basis?”

“You were fine with it before.”

Cas’s face burned in shame. “I - I had no idea. I didn’t - I didn’t think.”

Tori shrugged. Not my problem, she seemed to say with her shoulders.

“Would it help to have security stationed near the bar?”

Tori smiled a little bit. “Can we sic ‘em on creeps any time we want?”

“If that would help,” Cas said. “Would it?”

Tori’s eyes were soft. “A little bit.” She offered Cas a smile. “People call you an asshole, but you’re really not.”

Cas frowned. “Don’t tell people that.”

Tori laughed. Cas sincerely hoped her night would get better.

Suddenly, Cas remembered the green-eyed man sitting at the bar. “Also,” he added, “If you could put Dean’s drinks on my tab?”

Tori’s smile was kind. “Whatever you say, boss,” she said. She gave an awkward little wave before returning to her station.

Cas lingered in the back for a while, not wanting to return to socializing, and especially not wanting to catch Dean’s eye and see that spark of derision in them. Cas was comfortable with his reputation as a stuffy asshole, but something about the narrow-eyed way Dean had looked at him made Cas’s chest tight.

A few minutes later he escaped from the back room and slunk toward the front door, eyes on the ground, refusing eye contact with anybody. It was only when he was outside, approaching his car, that he could breathe easy. 

But then he heard a voice call out from behind him.

“Hey! You! Cas!”

Cas turned around. It was Dean. He was wearing flannel and jeans. He looked warm despite his breath rising up as fog in front of him. “Dean,” Cas greeted. His heart thudded a little faster.

“You know my name,” Dean said suspiciously.

“Your brother,” Cas explained. “He said he threatened to take away your Netflix privileges if you didn’t come.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie. He wanted me to play wingman for him, but he did just fine on his own.”

“If you’re talking about Eileen, they’ve been dancing around each other for months.”

“That’s the one,” Dean said. “They’re in there giggling over margaritas. I think Tori’s a little too generous with the tequila tonight.”

Cas stomped his feet in the cold. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves regardless.”

“Yeah.” Dean looked at the ground. “Speaking of drinks,” he said awkwardly, “thanks for the freebies.”

“The least I could do,” Cas said, waving away his thanks. “You succeeded where I’ve apparently failed in keeping my employees comfortable.”

“Tori said you’re gonna hire more security?”

“I only hope it actually helps.”

“Just ask her next time,” Dean suggested. 

“I will,” Cas assured him. “I’ll also make copies of security tapes so leadership can review what happened with my colleague. Hopefully he won’t be my colleague for much longer.”

Dean smiled at him. It was a nice smile, the first Cas had seen from him. 

Cas looked at the keys in his hands, swallowing down his helpless, hopeless attraction to Dean. “Well, I better - “

Dean interrupted him. He stepped closer and looked at Cas significantly. “You wanna get out of here?”

From up close, Cas could see the gentle laugh lines around Dean’s eyes. The stubborn set of Dean’s jaw was gone, replaced by a hopeful, lopsided grin. 

“What do you mean?” Cas asked, confused. There was no way Dean was hitting on him, right?

Dean rubbed a hand over his chin. “I can’t compete with a whole-ass bar, but my apartment’s pretty sweet. Got some damn good coffee too, if I may say so myself.” He jerked a thumb to his right. “I’ll drive. Swear I only had the one beer.”

Cas looked over his shoulder at his own car. He knew it’d be fine where it was - potentially even until morning. He looked back at Dean and pocketed his keys. “Coffee sounds great,” he said. 

----

They had coffee in Dean’s apartment, sitting at Dean’s dining table and chatting. Dean’s laughter came easier when he was at home and at ease, and Cas found himself leaning closer and closer with every sip of coffee, eager for Dean’s next smile. 

At the end of the night, after Cas turned down Dean’s offer for another cup of coffee, Dean leaned in and kissed Cas goodbye, his hand warm on Cas’s face. The kiss eventually led to another kiss, and another, and another, until Dean suggested Cas stay the night instead. He was unbuttoning Cas’s shirt when he suggested it, and Cas could think of nothing better in that moment, so he canceled his rideshare with one hand before dropping his phone on the carpet and ridding Dean of his shirt.

In the morning, Dean brought Cas coffee in bed.

----

“Thanks for letting Dean stick around, by the way,” Sam said one Friday, a few months later. Cas’s coworkers had made Cas’s bar the setting for their biweekly get-togethers. “I know there was that issue a few months ago with Cole.” Cole was their now-former dickbag colleague. 

Cas looked at the bar, where Dean was chatting with Tori. “Of course,” he said. “I’m just glad he likes it here.”

“I’m surprised, to be honest,” Sam said. “He usually can’t stand being around business types.”

Cas hid a smile and didn’t respond.

It was a few minutes later that there was a commotion by the bar. Cas had hired more security, but there were still a few bust-ups that couldn’t be prevented - especially when Dean was at the bar.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose when he saw who was at the center of the ruckus. 

Cas sighed and wound his way through the crowd. Luckily security was already there, though they hadn’t yet removed anyone. 

“Problem?” he asked.

The man in Dean’s face was seething. “This your boyfriend?” he mocked.

“The owner, actually,” Cas said, standing next to Dean and surreptitiously grabbing the back of his jacket. “But yes, also his boyfriend.”

The man’s face turned red. He had a suit on and smelled like he’d bathed in cologne. “Should have known this place was - “

Security was hauling the guy out of the bar before he could finish - fortunately, too, because Dean had lunged forward at the man’s last comment.

“Alright,” Cas soothed, gripping Dean’s arm. “He’s gone. Please stop picking fights in my bar, by the way.”

“I’m getting rid of the assholes for you,” Dean said, scowling. He settled back onto his stool and turned back to his beer.

“And I’m trying to prevent lawsuits and hospital bills.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but his lips lifted. “Whatever. You gonna buy me a drink or what?”

“You haven’t paid for a beer in this place for four months.”

Dean looked impressed. “Four months? How’d I manage that?”

He’d managed it just by being him: by standing up for people who couldn’t do it for themselves, by making Cas laugh, by holding Cas accountable, by loving Cas for the past four months despite his flaws. Cas said none of this, though, instead choosing to lean in and whisper something very different in Dean’s ear - something that left Dean with ruddy cheeks and a pleased smirk on his lips.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean asked, looking at Cas through his eyelashes. “Should have told me earlier, Cas. I’m angling for the whole bar next.”

The thing was, Cas could see it happening: Dean by his side as they looked at billing, at inventory, at staffing. Dean keeping Cas grounded as Cas took a more active role in ownership. But Cas said none of this either. “I’m looking forward to seeing you try,” he challenged instead, before leaning in to swipe Dean’s beer from his hand.

Dean watched Cas drink his beer with a scowl. “Stealing shouldn’t be so hot, but somehow you manage it.”

Cas ran a slow hand over Dean’s back. He was just about to lean in and whisper something else, but they were interrupted by someone behind them clearing his throat.

They looked over their shoulder and saw Sam with a sour look on his face. 

He looked pointedly at the lack of space between them, then at the hand Cas had low on Dean’s back. “This a new thing or what?”

Dean turned around. He had a new bottle of beer in his hand, courtesy of Tori. “Hey, Sammy,” he greeted. He jerked a thumb at Cas. “You know Cas?”

“We’ve worked together for the past three years,” Sam seethed.

“What a coincidence,” Dean said, feigning surprise. “Cas, did you know this?”

Cas ignored him. “We’ve been seeing each other for four months,” he said to Sam apologetically. “I was waiting for Dean to tell you.”

Dean grinned at his brother. “Surprise.”

“Shut up,” Sam snapped. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“And I can’t believe you actually changed your Netflix password,” Dean accused. 

Sam sighed. “I shared it with Eileen.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. “You what?”

Cas interrupted before Dean started another argument. “Sam, your drinks are on me tonight,” he said. “I hope we can get to know each other better.”

Sam was glaring at Dean, but he shook Cas’s hand anyway. “Thanks, Cas. Take care of my brother, will you? He’s an idiot, but he’s okay most of the time.” He made a face at Dean one more time before leaving.

Dean was looking at Cas carefully. “You okay with this?” he asked.

“With what?”

“Dating me,” Dean clarified. “Being around me. Being seen with me.”

They weren’t big on public displays of affection, but Cas figured Dean needed it at that moment; he touched Dean’s face and tried not to get too sappy about the way Dean kissed his palm. “I’d spend every minute with you if I could,” Cas said earnestly. “But unfortunately work and sleep get in the way.”

Dean rolled his eyes but Cas saw the set of his mouth, the pink of his cheeks, and knew he was pleased. Dean reached forward and fixed Cas’s tie. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Netflix account, would you?” he asked.

[musicallibrarian93]

Under the stars (Gwynriel Fanfic)

It’s Azriel’s birthday, and Gwyn plans a little something special for him. Warning - Very fluffy :)

One shot from my Fanfic ‘Interruptions’. Read it here on AO3 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/30307776/chapters/74703369#workskin

Word count - 3.5k 

It was going to be his birthday soon. And Gwyn wanted to do something special.

Last year it had all been so new, this thing between them. Nonetheless, she had gotten him a gift and gone to their family meal, which Nesta had insisted on throwing for him since it was the first time, she could celebrate with him. He’d graciously accepted even though it wasn’t the kind of thing he’d wanted and had spent the whole night close to Gwyn.

Last year it had been so new, but it had also been kind of a secret. They didn’t go out of their way to hide things and of course her sisters and Cassian knew but they weren’t at the ‘screaming it from rooftops stage’.

This year, Gwyn got Azriel all to herself. Months ago, she’d asked his brothers if she could have him for the night. They’d been reluctant and Cassian had mumbled something along the lines of ‘You get him every night already’. Rhys had finally relented and recognised that it was a special day for the couple.

Gwyn liked to think she knew Azriel well. That maybe she even knew him in a different way to how his brothers knew him, but birthday planning had not been her forte. The only person she’d ever been close enough to want to throw a birthday for had been her sister and they’d shared a birthday, so they’d always planned things together. She knew she wanted to do something lowkey, something for just the two of them but still special enough to mark the day. Cooking for him was also off the table unless she wanted to accept the bond tonight.

Gwyn knew in her heart that they were going to accept the bond one day. Tonight, just wasn’t the night.

Once she’d decided what she was going to do she started to set her plan in motion. It wouldn’t require too much work, but she wanted to make sure it was all perfect.

——

The morning of Azriel’s birthday, she’d woken in his bed like she had for the past few weeks and turned in his arms to face him. She’d woken before him, which was incredibly rare, but she took the opportunity to start peppering his face with gentle kisses. The shadows that had fallen asleep on top of them stirred and danced around the crown of his head as his eyes began to peel open.

“Happy Birthday.” she mumbled onto his lips. His eyes shot open.

“Can we just go back to sleep for the rest of the day and wake up when it’s not my birthday anymore?” He said sleepily,

“But then you won’t get to see what I have planned tonight…” She kissed him again, but he didn’t seem so enthusiastic about what she’d said, “What’s wrong?” she asked,

“Nothing, I’m sure whatever you’ve planned is lovely…”

“But…” she goaded him on,

“But nothing,” a lie.

She raised an eyebrow,

“Fine,” he said, “I’ve just never really enjoyed my birthday.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy today.”

“I will, so long as I get to spend it with you.” He started to kiss her back now. A small kiss to the tip of her nose, then her forehead, and finally her lips.

They stayed in that little bliss, wrapped in each other for a little while, until Azriel’s shadows pulled the curtains apart letting Gwyn know it was time to go.

“I have to get ready for the morning service.” She said placing a kiss to his head. She moved away but he held onto her hand,

“I’ll miss you.” He said, brushing his lips over the back of her hand,

“Don’t let Nesta hear you say things like that, she’d tease you endlessly.”

He only rolled his eyes in response.

——

Azriel wondered what might be in store for him tonight. He felt honoured to have someone care about his birthday at all, but he feared he would be subject to an evening of attention on him. He loved family dinners and their small gatherings but an event where everyone might be staring at him might be too much. However, throughout the day Azriel had become increasingly confused about what Gwyn had planned for his birthday.

At training he’d overheard Nesta pester his mate about what she’d been planning. That had confused him. If Nesta didn’t know, did that mean it was a surprise to everyone? Had Gwyn orchestrated a surprise party so secretive that even the guests hadn’t known it was happening? Or had she kept Nesta out of planning it based on the shambles of last year?

Azriel loved Nesta like a sister but his birthday last year had just been crazy. Nesta had planned a lavish party for him which had been lovely but the combination of Feyre being able to drink again and Cassian with the bottles of wine in the cupboards of the house of wind hadn’t made it a peaceful party. The pair had been causing chaos and around 11pm they were found about to jump from the balcony of the house of wind, their wings already spread wide. Rhys had caught Feyre just as she jumped, and Cassian had fallen on his face before he could take off.

Azriel imagined that keeping anyone out of the party planning would have been a good shout.

Apart from the little Happy Birthdays the Valkyries wished him and the bone crushing hug Cassian had given him before breakfast, everything else seemed to be pretty much normal. Training had been lovely; They’d let him pick the drills they did today, and he delighted in watching Gwyn annihilate everyone in hand-to-hand combat. Gwyn had joined him for a small lunch before going to work in the library and then he’d had the afternoon to himself. He’d decided to go flying and then spent the rest of his time in his bedroom, reading or letting his finger graze over a few notes on the piano that Gwyn had dragged in from another suite in the house.

Gwyn had been cryptic to say the least with the plans she’d made, all he knew was that something was happening tonight. She’d given him no time frame either just told him to be ready for when she finished work in the library.

He tried his hardest to be excited. And he was excited but being so unsure about what was going to happen set him on edge. He was almost sure Gwyn had even asked his shadows to not divulge any extra information as they were strangely quiet around him.

Azriel must admit though for all his nervousness of what might come he had enjoyed the quiet day he’d spent. Had enjoyed just spending some time to himself to read a play piano and the thought of seeing Gwyn soon had his heart erupting into butterflies.

He had fallen hard for her, which was fortunate and almost predictable given they were mates, but he was so grateful that she’d wanted to take this slow. It certainly wasn’t the conventional thing, but it seemed so right for them. To just take the time to be a couple and learn about each other.

Azriel knew in his heart that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her, if she’d let him. Until then he was happy to just be with her.

Around Seven O’clock a soft knock sounded on his bedroom door. It almost made him laugh because Gwyn had been sleeping in his room every night for the past few weeks, she’d even started keeping a few of her essentials in a little draw on, what was becoming, her side of the bed. Yet she still treated it like it was his room and she was just a passing guest.

Nonetheless, he walked to the door and saw his beautiful Gwyn standing on the other side.

“Are you ready?” She asked with a sweet smile,

“Well, considering I don’t know what’s going to happen, I didn’t know what to wear.” He glanced down at his outfit, which had been a pair of comfier trousers paired with a smart black sweater.

“It’s perfect.” She spoke. He looked down to see what she was wearing and was happy to see she’d dressed equally casually with a pair of leggings and a nice chunky cardigan.

Gwyn held up a blindfold, “May I?”. Oh, okay so definitely some kind of surprise party. Why else would she blindfold him? He only turned and ducked so she might be able to reach around his head and tie it over his eyes.

Azriel wasn’t frightened for two reasons. The first was that he was sure he could navigate Velaris in a blindfold and second was because he was with Gwyn. He doubted he would be so calm about someone else trying to blindfold him.

She brushed the back of her hand against his knuckles. They’re slight asking for permission to hold the others hand and he placed his hand in hers in an instant. He felt the shadows dance around him now, they were excited about what was to come.

She silently led him out of his rooms and through the corridor. He knew this house like the back of his hand. And she led him right onto the patio.

She tugged on the tie on the back of his head.

“Surprise.”

——

Once Gwyn had decided what she’d wanted to do it actually hadn’t taken that long to set up. But she’d left Azriel to his own devices today largely for his sake. She guessed that might be part of her surprise, giving him some space today, as well as asking the others to keep the day rather lowkey.

They would have family dinner tomorrow night at the river house, but she knew that on the actual day of his birthday it might be too much to handle.

It didn’t make her any less nervous about what she’d planned though. What if he secretly loved big parties? What if he was getting sick of her? He might at least want his brothers. But Gwyn pushed the thoughts down and prayed he would like it.

“Surprise.” She said pulling the blindfold away.

——

It was beautiful.

Stunning even.

Gwyn had set up the patio into a comfy lounging area with blankets sprawled over the floor, big plush cushions scattered around. A chain of fae orbs lightly glowed along the walls of the patio illuminating the area and a picnic basket sat in the middle of the blanketed floor space.

“It’s not much…”

“Gwyn,” he said stopping her, “Are we going to stargaze?”

“All night if you want to.”

He stood unmoving. Oh no. Maybe he didn’t like it, maybe she should have done more.

“I know it’s a little cheesy to stargaze in the night court, but we’ve never done it before, and I got dinner for us and me…”

He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. What she’d done. This was perfect. Just to spend the evening alone with her. And the kiss told her as much. She felt every ounce of gratitude; Especially when she felt his rest his forehead against hers.

“Come this way.” She said through the haze of the kiss as she held his hand and led him to the blanket, in the centre of the floor.

“When did you do all of this?” he asked taking in the gorgeous area she’d created,

“Merril let me off work an hour early and it took all my stealth for you to not hear me lugging blankets through the house.”

“It looks like our little stealth lessons are paying off.” He said with nothing but pride in his eyes. Yes, it was worrying Gwyn had gotten past him, but it was delightful all the same.

“I did persuade your shadows to keep it a secret.”

“My own shadows.” He said feigning the look of betrayal.

Gwyn sat down first gesturing for Azriel to sit opposite her. He sat with grace on the floor and his wings spread to one side in order to be comfortable for him while they sat. In his next breath he inhaled the scent of the food that was sitting in the basket.

“I requested a special delivery from your favourite little cafe from along the sidra.”

“Bluebells!” He said with his eyes lighting up,

“Yes,” she smiled as she pointed into the basket, “I got some of those pastries you adore as well as some other little bites and maybe later there will be some lemon cake.”

“Gwyn…” he said tentatively, and she knew why he was hesitant,

“This isn’t me… accepting the bond. Although considering how your face lit up at the thought of Bluebells, it’s certainly given me some ideas.”

He cupped her cheek.

“I haven’t touched any of the food,” She continued, “I don’t quite know how it works or the rules, but I imagine if you help yourself, then I haven’t exactly offered it to you so…”

“It’s perfect,” He replied, “You’re perfect.” She smiled brightly before pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand,

“Eat, or it will get cold.”

Azriel never thought of himself as much of a foodie. He grew up with the idea that just bare scraps were a luxury but when he’d stumbled across Bluebells a few centuries ago it’d been the first time he understood the fascination behind good food. Gwyn had been the first person he’d told about it when he’d taken her round Velaris and he was happy that she’d liked the little macaroons as much as he did.

Their little picnic was beautiful, and Gwyn had gotten him all his favourite items. He’d loved sharing it with her and how her eyes had lit up when he’d fed her his favourite sandwich.

After they’d finished and were completley full Azriel fell back onto the blankets surrounded by the pillows, “I’m impressed by your keen observation skills, Berdara.”

“What do you mean?” She said as she curled into his side. His arms circling her waist as her hand rested over his heart,

“I mean, you got every single thing that I love. We’ve only been to bluebells a handful of times, yet you knew exactly what to get.”

“Well, I’m no Shadowsinger,” she said with a smile, “but I know how to keep my male happy.”

He pressed a kiss to her nose.

“This day has been perfect.”

“I was worried it wouldn’t be enough.”

“You’re joking?”

“Well, I know you don’t love big crowds, but I thought you might miss being around your family.”

“We have family dinner tomorrow; I’ll see them then.”

“In addition, to selfishly wanting you to myself, I don’t have Nesta’s natural aptitude to plan parties either.” She said with a smirk that had him huffing a laugh,

“Sometimes our greatest weaknesses turn out to be our greatest strengths.” He said placing a kiss on her forehead,

“The Nephelle Philosophy.” Gwyn smiled,

“How do- You know about Nephelle?”

This had Gwyn rising from her position and grabbing a little package that he’d completley glossed over. She handed him the present wrapped in brown paper. Azriel sitting once more. It was just a touch larger than the size of a book, but delicate beneath his fingers.

“Happy Birthday.” She said as he looked at it with confusion,

“This wasn’t my present?” He said gesturing to the outdoor patio area and the picnic basket. She shook her head.

“Open it.”

Azriel couldn’t breathe. This was too much.

“Is this…” he started

“Nephelle’s own diary entry of rescuing Miryam.” For now, Azriel held a framed piece of parchment that had words written in Nephelle’s own hand the account of that day.

“How did you know?”

“Feyre may have mentioned that you loved her story.”

“I- How did you get this?” Azriel could barely get the words out.

“I wrote to her,” Gwyn said, “I told her that my mate admired her story and she responded with this. Along with a beautiful letter in which she spoke of how you inspire others too.”

“Gwyn…”

“I hope you like it.”

“Gwyn, this is perfect.” He smiled, silver lining his eyes, “You’re perfect.”

That had Gwyn crying too. She shuffled closer to him and his lips brushed against hers. Her hand resting on the back of his neck.

“I thought you could put it in your room, on top of the dresser maybe?” She said only a breath away from him,

“Our room,” He said suddenly, “Gwyn, will you move in with me?”

“To the house?”

“You don’t have to say Yes, or if you don’t like my room, we can find another one in the house that we like, but I would be honoured beyond reason to know I get to wake up next to you every day.”

She considered it for a second, “I guess it would make things easier,” Azriel hummed, “Nesta might like to live with another female,” she sighed, “And I sleep there every night already.”

“What do you say?” He asked again, his forehead meeting hers,

“Yes,” she whispered, “Yes. Yes. Of course!” She said getting louder. She peppered kisses all over his face before her lips connected with his once more.

It didn’t take long for their kiss to turn heated. Azriel’s hands trailing down her back before lowering her to the blankets and cushion on the floor. Their kiss was exploring and unhurried and driving Gwyn completley out of her mind. She wasn’t in control of her hands as they found there was to his hair that had slightly curled and pulled very gently. He moaned into her mouth and Gwyn forgot where she was only that it was her and Azriel. Her and Azriel forever. This was just the start.

“I love you so much.” She said, utterly breathless,

“I love you too.” He replied.

He lent in once more to kiss her again but stopped a breath away from her. She raised a brow, knowing the look in his eyes. His shadows were talking to him.

“Nesta and Cassian are coming.” He told her. And indeed, when Gwyn turned her head, she saw the mated couple walking onto the balcony with their own blankets and pillows bundled in their arms.

“I can see why you didn’t tell anyone your plans, Gwyn,” Nesta said with a smile, looking at the couple who had been caught in quite a comprising position,

“Hello, Nesta.” Gwyn said with a smile, while also raising her eyebrows as if trying to signal something to her sister,

“Happy Birthday, Az.” Nesta said with a bright smile,

“I tried to stop her.” Cassian said from behind his mate,

“Yeah, we were kind of…” Gwyn started, but didn’t know how to finish,

“You’re welcome to join us,” Azriel said, a bright smile on his face as he rolled off of Gwyn, she sat up to make room for his wings, “If that’s okay with you.” He said to Gwyn,

“It’s your birthday,” Gwyn said. And that was all Nesta needed to hear before setting up their own little blanket area on the patio. Cassian kept looking over trying to seem apologetic for the night they’d interrupted. Gwyn couldn’t hide she was slightly upset for him.

“It’s okay, my love.” Azriel whispered, sitting up, quiet enough that only she could hear,

“Yeah?” She breathed back,

“Well, I was immensely enjoying our evening so far,” he smiled, kissing her nose, “but, I guess we’ll just have to continue where we left off when we get back to our room.”

Those words alone had Gwyn forgetting the couple who had joined them as she took his face in her hands and kissed him like no one was there.

They were shortly interrupted by Nesta saying, “Get a room, you two.” But when Gwyn turned around, she saw the light dancing in Nesta and Cassian’s eyes, they were truly happy for them.

Gwyn still flipped them off.

Cassian let out a loud laugh at that. Surprised to see the priestess act so crudely, perhaps she’d spent too much time around them.

After that they settled into light conversation, Azriel pointing out constellations in the sky while Nesta nuzzled into Cassian’s side. It turned out to be quite lovely. Nesta and Cassian squirreled into the basket to find some of the left-over lemon cake, and Gwyn smiled when Nesta fed it to Cassian. So simple and casual but Gwyn was excited for the day she’d be able to do that with Azriel.

At some point she drifted off, the vibrations of Azriel’s low voice, singing her to sleep. But when she awoke the next morning she was in a large comfy bed. Her bed, she now realised. With her mate’s arms and wings wrapped around her.

[winterscaptain]

redamancy.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: the moment you’ve all been waiting for...#5 makes an appearance! (thanks to kira @good-heavens-chris-evans for helping me not be a liar and gassing me up so i could post this tonight like i promised xoxo i love you so much) words: 5.56k warnings: descriptions of childbirth (nothing too gross or graphic), swearing, disgustingly sweet family content

summary: “what strange creatures brothers are!” - jane austen. au!august 2022

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist edited: january 9th, 2021

“Hey, Aaron?” You peer around the wall to the bedroom from your place on the master bath toilet. There isn't any urgency to your query, which would later make you both laugh until you can't breathe. 

Aaron has a book in his lap and reading glasses resting on his perfect nose, as is usual for bedtime. He turns a page. “Hm?”

“When you get to a good stopping point, can you grab the go bag?” 

“Yeah.” He gets up on autopilot, setting his book down. When he reaches the bedroom doorway, he freezes and turns over his shoulder “Wait. Why?”

“Oh, nothing extreme,” you say, your voice light. “My water just broke and I figured we might -“

Your name leaves his mouth in a laugh, and he trots back to you, helping you up and kneeling to assist you with your comfiest pair of pajama pants. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder, stepping into one leg, then the other. Playfully, he snaps the stretchy waistband around you. He's still kneeling before you when he says, “You’re insane, you know that?”

You smile down at him and scrub your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch like a cat and closes his eyes. “You are too, I’d like to point out.”

He sighs, kissing your belly and resting his cheek on it. “Never said I wasn’t.” He looks up at you. “Is it weird that I’m...a little sad? I’ve loved this part of our lives so much.”

You shake your head. “Me too, my love. And no, It isn’t weird.” 

He holds your hands as he stands and kisses your forehead. 

“We should probably tell Jack it's go time so he can help the little ones when they get up.”

Aaron pauses for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. Isaac isn’t going to clearly remember last time, so he’ll probably be nervous, and this is totally new to the girls.” You reach up and he plants a kiss on your lips. You smile, pleased. 

A little contraction wave hits, and one side of your face screwed up in discomfort. 

Aaron kisses your cheek and says, “I’ll get the rest of the toiletries together.”

You nod, and padded down the hallway, your socked feet swishing a little against the hardwood floors. You knocked twice on Jack’s door, quietly, and waited for his groggy, “Yeah?”

With access granted, you open the door with a little smile, and Jack sits straight up.  You cross to his bed and sit down on the edge, opening your arm to him. Though he’s almost seventeen, he scrambled out from under the covers and tucked in close to you. 

“Your dad and I are headed to the hospital, and Aunt Jess and Em are on their way okay? If you need anything big, dad has his phone and -“

“Mom, we’ve done this before,” he says with a grin. “I know the drill.”

You push the hair off his forehead and kiss him. “I know it, but it makes me feel better. The little ones haven’t done this before, and they’ll probably be a little nervous. Please help your aunts so they aren’t driven to the drink by your sisters.”

He laughs a little, and surprises you by wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you close to him. “Be safe, mom. I love you.” 

Tears prick at your eyes, and you hold him tight. “I love you so much, Jack.”

“Are you scared?”

You press a hand to the back of his head, and he burrows into your neck. “Only a little. I know I’m older, which can make some things difficult, but I’ll always come home to you.”

He nods. “Promise?”

“I promise as much as I can.”

Jack pulls away and swipes quickly at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“Hey,” your brow crinkles in lighthearted concern. “What’s gotcha?”

He shakes his head. “It’s stupid”

“I can guarantee you it’s not.” While still a bit of a boy, Jack looks very much a man in the dark, lit only by the light of the hallway as the wheels turn in his head. You pick up one of his hands, and he places your linked fingers over your belly. 

“I just - I don’t - Ugh. It’s morbid - Nevermind.”

You huff a laugh. “Baby, remember that one-third of this house hunts serial killers for a living. Nothing is morbid.”

A smile quirks at his lips, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “Just be okay? Please?”

You sober and nod, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Jack, do you think I would ever put you or your father into a position that can result in leaving either one of you?”

He shakes his head. “But things happen.”

“They sure do. Your dad will be with me the whole time and he can send you hourly updates if you want. I promise promise promise you’ll be in the loop, baby. I know you like to know.”

Your son’s eyes flicker to the doorway, where a shadow appears. It's Aaron, his backpack on and your go bag in his hand. 

“Ready?” 

You nod, stand (not without effort), and press another kiss to Jack’s head. “I love you bud. I’ll see you when our plus one arrives.” 

The plan is easy: Emily and Jessica are on their way over for the kids, and Dave and Spencer will relieve them after 12 hours. Derek, Savannah, JJ, and Will are only called when the baby arrives, to save them the angst of prematurely wrangling four children between them. 

The hospital is only eighteen minutes away, but with the way Aaron drives, it's more like ten. 

Time is fairly important - with your body accustomed to delivering babies, having done it twice before, there’s a very big chance active labor would only take a few hours, if that. 

Emily and Jess pull up to the house at the same time, both in their pajamas, holding their overnight bags.

“Ready?” Jess asks, kissing your cheek. 

You laugh. “Don’t have much of a choice now, do I?” 

Emily sets her things down and wordlessly hugs you. You wrap your arms around her as best you can. 

“Walk me out?” You ask. 

She slings an arm around your shoulders and you walk back out the front door. She situates you in the passenger seat, and you offer her a small smile. 

“You know,” she starts with a bit of a laugh, “every single time I’m just as nervous as I was when Henry was born.” 

You reach for her hand, and kiss the back of it. “Me too.” 

Everything goes according to plan after that. You sit in the car with your stopwatch while Aaron packs the car, checking the car seat base and putting everything that needs to go up with you in the trunk. Jess and Emily get set up on the couches in the living room, ready to settle in for the night. 

You're uncomfortable, sure, but it isn't unbearable yet. This is the tedious part. 

Miraculously, none of the little ones wake up in the commotion. The magic of white noise machines is never to be underestimated. 

“Time?” He calls from where he leans into the back of the car. He's handling the last details, in full field operations mode. 

You turn around. “5 minutes, 15 seconds.”

“Alright,” he looks up at you and grins widely. “Let’s go, baby.”

+++

Brienne breezes in and checks your charts and your dilation. “It’s go, time, here I think, Momma.”

You sigh and readjust. “Do I have to lay down?” Comfortable as you are, epidural all finished, you still feel a little restless. The alternative is worse - you’d delivered Isaac without any pain management, and thought it was the end of days. You didn’t, and won’t, make that mistake again. 

“Not necessarily, but if you’re going to shuffle around I would suggest a squat for the sake of your blood pressure.”

Another contraction hits, and it knocks the wind out of you. You squeeze Aaron’s hand so hard you fear you’ll break it, and inform him for the third time that morning that you hate his guts. 

“I know, honey. I’m sorry. I know. I’m the worst. Just breathe, okay?” He presses his forehead to your temple, giving you something to focus on. 

It sounds like you tell him to fuck off, but you aren’t sure. The wave crests and then falls, and you slump back against the pillows. “Okay, maybe I do want to lie down.” 

Everyone stifles a chuckle, but you didn't have it in you to be prideful. While you still have a few seconds, you double-check the plan. “Hey Brienne, we’re still good to tie today, right?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” she says, way too chipper for the small morning hour. She speaks quickly, knowing she has to finish her thought before your next contraction. “Soon as we’re all done, we’ll do a really quick procedure and everything will be squared away. If, for some reason, we have to do an emergency cesarean, we can do it right then as well.” 

Brienne is a great obstetrician - she never pulls punches when the news is difficult or stressful. Her straightforward nature immediately endeared her to your whole family. 

It's too much to think about, seeing as another contraction sneaks up on you as you ponder. It felt like only seconds since the last one. 

You're so tired. 

Brienne gestures to Aaron. They developed a bit of a language over the last two deliveries, and he presses a kiss to your temple. “You gotta push, babe.” 

“God, Fuck. I hate you, Aaron. Goddamn you. I’m never letting you near me ever again. Fuck.” A stream of expletives continues to leave you as you push and push and push. 

He only holds your hand and reminds you to breathe and push. He also tells you how much he loves you in between agreeing with your damning assessments. 

If he's honest, he always thinks your ire during childbirth is hilarious. It is kind of his fault, and he can't fathom the physical trauma, so he figures this is a fair role to fill while you do the hard work. 

On a small trough in your final set of contractions, you catch your breath enough to ask for his other hand. This is the hardest part, and it always makes you a little nervous. 

“Aaron, come here. Please.” He drapes his arm around your shoulders, and you grab his hand where it hangs by your collarbone. 

“You’re almost there, darlin’! We’re gonna be crowning here in a second.” You can't see Brienne, totally locked into her task, but her update is a relief. 

You lean heavily into Aaron and he rests his cheek against yours. While this is a shorter labor than both Isaac and the girls’, you're exhausted. Bone-deep tired and hot and cold all at once. 

“You’re doing so well. You’re a superhero. I love you so much.” He whispers his words against you, and you wail as another contraction hit.  Your choice of a walking epidural doesn’t knock the pain out entirely, and it still totally sucks. But again, better than the alternative.

“We’ve got a little Hotchner head! Keep going!” Brienne pats your knee and grins at you, and you follow instructions. “Do you want to catch, Dad?”

Before he can answer, you tell him, “If you move, I’ll kill you,” through your teeth. Aaron shrugs and looks over your head at Brienne, who suppresses a smile. 

There can't be any blood left in Aaron’s upper extremities at this point. In the midst of actively disliking him and your presence in your life in that particular moment, you're so grateful for him you could cry. 

Well, you could cry for a great number of reasons, but that’s definitely one of them. 

A few minutes and a pretty bad time later, a strong cry fills the room and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Aaron releases you as you unbutton your gown to expose your chest. 

“Your time to shine, Aaron.” Brienne holds up the umbilical cord clamp and snaps it together twice like a dad at a barbecue. With a smile, he stands and rounds the bed. 

You tried to peer over to see, but you're only able to see Aaron and Brienne.

A smile eats up his whole face. 

“Hi!” His voice pitches up, and you start to cry. 

You just love him so much your chest could just burst. Aaron is always the first person to greet your children as they come into the world, and he never fails to deliver a warm welcome. 

“Right here, right?” He looks to Brienne, and she nods. He cuts the cord, and the nurse crosses the room for measurements. 

Aaron returns to you and removes his own shirt, ready to take the little one while you finish delivery. After his crew neck is thrown to the side, he gathers you up in his arms again. 

There’s nothing you can do but melt into him. His skin is warm and he smells good, whereas your skin felt clammy and you probably smell like a horse’s ass. 

Brienne’s voice comes to you faintly from the other side of the room, iterating the specs of the newest addition. “Baby Boy Hotchner, 5:37am, August 13th, 8 pounds, 14 ounces, 21 inches.”

Okay I'm not crazy. He’s actually huge. 

Aaron scoots even closer as you lean away to get a better look. Brienne sets the still-squalling infant on your chest with gentle, warm hands. Your eyes blur with tears. Aaron isn't any better off, keeping one hand on you and another on your son, his own tears tracking quietly down his cheeks. 

Your son. 

Brienne sighs and says, “Alright, last bit here, and then you’re done.” 

You nod and Aaron takes him off your chest, leaning back with one hand under him and one hand over him. Fluid and other questionable grossness be damned, he ducks his head and presses his cheek to his son’s head, an ineffable joy radiating through his body. 

Aaron’s hands almost completely cover him - with his little knees tucked to his chest, he looks like an angry little loaf of bread. 

The afterbirth is the easy part, but then it was before, too. All the Hotchner kids are massive - even the girls were bigger for twins. 

You always make fun of Aaron for “ripping me to shreds, and not in a fun way.” 

(Okay, fine. Maybe a little in a fun way. Sometimes.)

There’s a little more pressure, and you look down at Brienne’s outline behind that infernal green medical paper shit. “How’s it going down there?”

“I’m getting these suckers tied off so we don’t have any more happy accidents. Don’t mind me.” 

Aaron stifles a laugh and you roll your eyes, still weepy. The nurse passes him a warm, wet washcloth, and he begins to wipe the ick from his son’s skin. 

Brienne finishes up and helps you get adjusted with ice packs and that excellent postpartum underwear. When she's satisfied, she removes her gloves and presses a hand to your bare shoulder. “Beautiful work, momma. He’s perfect.” 

You put a shaky hand over hers. “Thanks.” A little watery laugh leaves you. Ouch. “I’ll miss you.” 

And it's true. Brienne has been a semi-permanent fixture in your life for close to six years and has become a friend. You wouldn’t have any reason to see her again outside of regular check-ups. 

She squeezes your shoulder twice. “You ever need anything, you know who to call. Let someone know when you’re ready to put his name down, and they’ll finish off the birth certificate.” 

With that, she shepherds the nurse out the door, and you're alone with Aaron. 

“So,” you say. 

He smiles, his eyes still trained on the little body who has quickly quieted and is snoozing on his chest. “So?”

“Gimme that.” 

His laugh is warm, and he places little one on your chest again. You prod him awake, feeling only a touch bad about it, and offer him a snack. He latches right away, and you tip your head back in sheer relief. 

“Thank God.” 

Aaron nods in agreement. “That’s one less thing to worry about.” He shakes his head as if shaking something off - no doubt remembering the meltdowns night after night trying to nurse Isaac. 

Little one is still naked to the world, so you point at the little blue blanket folded across the room. “Can you grab that for me?” 

Aaron just looks at you for a second, as if seeing you for the first time.  “Of course.” 

He crosses the room, throws the blanket over his shoulder, and grabs a diaper. While the little one is distracted, he deftly maneuvers the diaper into place and drapes the blanket over him to keep the chill off while maintaining skin-to-skin.

You pull the blanket back a little so you can see his squishy little face. “Can you call Jack?” 

“Do we want to call him now? It’s pretty early.” Aaron leans over to his backpack and pulls his phone out, finding a couple requests for updates from Jess. First things first, he turns the camera on you, and you give him a thumbs up. You detach the little one from your nipple for a second, framing his face with the blanket. Aaron gets a good photo of a yawn and fires both pictures off to the BAU group chat before checking Jess’s messages. 

4:12am How we doin? 4:18am Jack’s up with me. He can’t sleep. Em is dead to the world - she gave up about an hour ago. Give us an update when you can. 

6:02am He’s adorable!!! He’s got your nose though, which is unfortunate. 6:02am Kidding. Maybe. 

Aaron laughs a little, and he looks at you. “He’s up with Jess.”

You nod. “Go ahead and call him. He’ll worry, honey.” 

He nods, and dials the second number on his speed dial. Jack picks up on the first ring. “Dad?”

“Hey, bud.” Aaron can't hide the smile in his voice. “Your brother is here and your mom wants to talk to you.” 

“Can I come see you?” Jack’s voice wavers a little, and Aaron knows it's relief, rather than anxiety. Much like his son, he was more than a little concerned for your safety. Now that it's over, he can finally relax. 

That alone is enough to make anyone emotional. 

Aaron checks his watch. “Are you too tired to drive?” 

“No, no. I’m good. I slept a little after you guys left.” he's quiet for a second. “Can you hand me to mom?”

“Sure, bud.” Aaron nods at you and you smile. He starts to pass the phone over to you then -

“Oh, dad?” Jack’s voice is only a little urgent. 

Aaron pulls the phone back to his ear. “Yeah?”

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, bud. I want to talk to Aunt Jess when you’re done with mom, so don’t hang up, okay?” 

With that, he hands you the phone and fresh tears roll down your cheeks. You know this part comes in waves - the emotions. Your hormones are in shambles, and you forget how intense it is every time. 

“Hey, Jack.” 

“Are you okay how did it go what happened?” All the questions come out in a rush.

You chuckle. Ouch. “Slow down there, kiddo. We’re just fine. It went really smoothly, but the last part happened kind of all at once and I denied your father personal freedom and geographic agency, so we didn’t get a chance to update you.” 

He laughs, and it warms you. “It’s okay. I’m really excited to meet him.” There’s a shuffle, and you assume it's his keys. 

Baby boy is finished eating, just nosing around your chest at this point. You shift, and Hotch catches the phone and holds it to your ear so you can use two hands, bringing little one’s head right under your collarbone, tucking him up again. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

After Aaron has a chance to debrief and game-plan with Jess (“If you bring the little ones over here before 10am, nobody will have any fun.”), Jack is on his way. 

In the meantime, Aaron sets his phone on the side table and sits on the edge of your bed. “Are we sticking to the name we picked? Does it feel right?”

You nod. “I think so. What do you think?”

You do your best to inch yourself over - Ouch - so Aaron can have a little more space. He stretches out on the bed next to you, on his side with his arm folded under his head. A very large hand covers yours, pulling the blanket down to little one’s chin. 

“He looks like you,” he says. 

You snort. Ouch. “Don’t lie. All your damn kids look like you.”

“Alright, fine.” He relents with a wide smile. “He looks like me.” 

He's quiet for a moment, tracing the apple of little one’s cheek with his finger.  His smile morphs into something soft, pensive. It's the look he always has when he's in awe of his children. “What do you think, little man? Is your name Elliot David? How’s that sitting with you?”

The Elliot David in question just makes contented little staccato sounds from his chest, his brown eyes looking here and there, surprisingly alert. He lets out a little cough, and both you and Aaron let out an, “Oh!” simultaneously in that drawn-out way parents do when their kids surprise themselves. 

You look at him and stifle a laugh just for the sake of your exhausted muscles. Aaron’s smile soon turns shaky, and tears fall onto his elbow where it rests under his head. He takes a big breath, and it catches on the way out. 

“Oh, honey. Come here.” 

You adjust again, bringing the head of the bed down with the little remote. As you recline, you only need one hand to keep Elliot secure. You raise your other arm, and Aaron scoots under it, resting his head in the crook of your chest and shoulder. He snaps some buttons on your gown in the absent-minded interest of keeping Jack relatively unscarred. 

Aaron’s bare arm is warm under your fingers. You trace little patterns into his skin as he stares at the back of his son’s head. Elliot’s impossibly small hand catches Aaron’s finger in that death grip only babies seem to have. 

Aaron doesn’t care he's nearly twenty-four hours without sleep, missing a shirt, and really hungry. The only things that matter in this moment are right here in front of him. 

There’s no need to speak. 

A nurse stops by and drops off the bedside cradle, speaking quietly. “You can put him in here when you’re ready to get some rest.” 

You look up and thank him. “Oh, and we’d like to finish the birth certificate in a few hours. Will that be alright?”

He nods. “Just fine.” He checks your charts and leaves a few moments later. 

Soon after, the door slips open, and Jack’s head pops in. “Hi!” He stage-whispers. “Lemme see him.” 

Aaron is stuck where he is, still locked in by Elliot’s grip, so Jack crosses to your other side, pulling up a chair as close as he can get it. 

There is a sense of finality to this meeting. Elliot is your last child, and this is the last time the Three Musketeers will sit together, meeting the newest member of their family. 

“Oh man, Mom. He’s so cute.” Jack coos and ducks so he's eye-level with his baby brother. He traces a finger along Elliot’s tiny, straight nose. When he rests his head on your upper arm, you kiss his head. All three of you sit there until the sun rises, watching Elliot fall asleep. Aaron follows suit eventually, his breath fanning slow and even across your chest. 

+++

The three of you are relatively well-rested by the time your family comes to bombard you. 

Elliot woke twice in the early morning - once to be fed and the other to be changed. Jack retreated to the recliner after a certain point, and Aaron threw on a sweatshirt and curled up next to you for the duration. They're still out cold, while you rest somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. 

One of the nurses on rotation pops her head in. You wave at her with the tips of your fingers. 

“Your family is here to see you.” 

That wakes you up. You make an ‘eek’ face. “All of them?”

She nods. “Three at a time?” 

“Please.” You reach over and pick up a neatly-swaddled Elliot and tuck him into your elbow. You check the corner, where Jack still sleeps. You're sure a train could drive through the room and he’d still be out. That kid has sleeping superpowers - being sixteen only helped.  

Jess is first, holding the girls’ hands while Isaac trails a little behind. 

You put a finger to your lips and point to Elliot. “He’s sleeping, so you have to be really quiet, okay?”

Caroline clambers up on the bed with a few reminders to “be gentle with Mom and don’t lean on her too much,” and peers over you. “Is Daddy sleeping?”

You look to your right, and sure enough, Aaron is out like a light again, performance evaluations on his chest, his hand relaxed around his pen. “Yeah, baby. Daddy’s sleeping because he's awake for a really long time helping me with Elliot.” 

Newly reminded of the main event, Caro plants herself by your knee while Sophia sits by your hip, taking the good real estate. You look over at Jess and wink. She slips out, closing the door softly behind her. 

You scoot over so you're flush with Aaron’s side. “Come on up here, bubba.” 

Isaac gives you a little smile and perches at your side. “He’s so small.” 

“Yep. And look at that,” you brush your fingers down Elliot’s nose and tap his cupid bow before doing the same to Isaac. “You have the same nose.” 

Isaac smiles and raises a tentative hand. He hesitates right before he reaches the dark brown peach fuzz that sits in unmanageable cowlicks on Elliot’s head. 

“You can touch him, bub. Just be gentle.” Isaac’s hand smooths over Elliot’s head with next-to-no pressure. “Do you remember when Sophia and Caroline were born?” 

Isaac nods. “It was super cool.”

“It was super cool.” You kiss his forehead and adjust your hold on Elliot. “Sophia, love, can you hand me the pillow that’s by Daddy’s knee.” 

She nods and very carefully presents it to you. You show her how to stuff it under your elbow so you can relax while supporting Elliot’s head. Caro is clearly enamored, her eyes never leaving Elliot’s face. 

“Babies are really delicate,” you remind a wiggling Sophia. “Their heads are too heavy for their little necks, so sometimes they need a little help.” 

At the mention of ‘help,’ Aaron’s eyes snap open. “What’s up?”  

You suppress a laugh as he realizes all of his kids surround him like the children of the corn. He presses a hand to his face, recovering. “Oh. Hi.”

Caro beams at him, and he beams right back. He puts his files down and pats his lap. “Come here, my little love. I’ve got a really good view over here.” 

She very mindfully picks her way over your shins and into her father’s lap. He lifts her so she's flush to his chest. His cheek presses into her hair, and he shows her where to find Elliot’s little baby toes under the blanket. 

“Are his feet very very small?” Caroline’s whispered question almost makes Aaron cry again. 

“Yes. They are very very small. So are his hands. Here, look.” 

He reaches over and peels back a layer of blanket, exposing one of Elliot’s (very very) small hands, pressed flat against the fabric. Aaron wiggles his finger under it and presents it to the kids. “If you look really carefully, you all have the same hands.” 

All at once, three pairs of hands appear, flipping their palms up and down as each one individually assesses the similarities. 

“And if you look even closer,” he says, flipping his palm down, but keeping Elliot’s hand aloft, “I have the same hands as all of you, too.”

Caroline looks up at him, awestruck and he nods. She places her hand on the back of Aaron’s and - lo and behold - they're the same shape, just significantly different sizes. 

Satisfied, Sophia drops her hands, leaning on them to get a closer, yet stable, look at Elliot’s fingers. 

She gasps, but to her credit, keeps her voice soft as she says, “Look at his tiny little nails!” 

“Lemme see!” Aaron supports Caro as she thrusts her body forward to get a better look. 

Jack stirs in the corner, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. In full voice, he says, “Oh, hey guys.” 

Three big shushes come from the kids, and it takes everything in you to keep your laugh locked away. You keep your eyes trained on Sophia (who looks downright offended at Jack’s volume) knowing if you look at Aaron you’d be done for. 

Jack makes the same ‘eek’ face you made earlier. “Sorry, sorry.” He creeps over, standing behind Sophia and putting his hands on her shoulders. She giggles quietly as he drops close to her ear. “Cute, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose. “He looks a little funny.” 

“He’ll start to look more like a person in a few weeks,” Aaron says with a smile. “You looked pretty funny the day you're born, maybe even funnier.”

He winks at her, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles again, leaning back against Jack. As she did so, her brother wrapped her in his arms and rested his chin on her head. 

Isaac runs his hand over Elliot’s hair, gentle and repetitive. He, like Jack did hours earlier, rests his head against your shoulder. You press your cheek to the crown of his head, soaking it in. 

“I like him.” 

A smile breaks your face in half, and you peer around to look at Isaac’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s cool.” 

Your bottom lip disappears into your mouth as you fight back tears, still ready to flow without fair warning. You don’t want to scare them. “I’m so glad you think so, bubba.” 

Elliot has once again taken Aaron’s finger hostage, and it takes more than a little negotiation to get him unwrapped and tucked back into his blanket. You have no idea how Elliot manages to sleep through all the commotion, but then again, he’ll have to get used to it. 

Jess pokes her head back in. “Ready for some lunch?”

Four heads whip around and nod vigorously. Aaron deposits Caro on the floor, while Isaac presses a heart-wrenching kiss to Elliot’s head before gingerly getting his feet back under him. Jack just lifts Sophia and she hangs off his hip, only a little too big. 

He walks to you and kisses your cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

You bring your hand up to his temple, the back of your fingers brushing his hair back. “I love you too, my Jack.” 

One side of his mouth turns up in a smile, and he leaves the room with Sophia, leading the rest of the pack down the hallway. 

+++

It's safe to say Dave immediately covets his namesake. You plop Elliot into his arms right away, and say, “This is Elliot David Hotchner. He’s been very excited to meet you.”

Dave full-on cries, letting the tears just fall onto his shirt as he bounces Elliot all around the room, talking to him about all the ways he’ll spoil him rotten. 

It’s easy to name him after Rossi. When you finally decided on a couple of first names, it was a no-brainer to pair them up with David. He’s your family, like they all are, but you're acutely aware that Elliot will have the smallest amount of time with Dave, no matter how much time that will be. 

When Dave is ready to give him up, he reluctantly passes him back to Aaron. Dave crosses to you while Aaron offers Elliot a knuckle to mouth around on. 

Dave kisses your cheeks and embraces you. He leans back to look at you, keeping his hands on your face. You cover his hands with your own and close your eyes. 

You're taking a lot of mental pictures today. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you're sure you see Aaron’s one-handed camera work out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you, bellissima.” 

“You’ve more than earned it,” you remind him.  

“Dealing with you two for fifteen years? You’re damn right I have.”

+++

a joyful future tag list:  @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey @micaiahmoonheart @ogmilkis @thatreallyis-americas-ass @marvels-agents100 @newtslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @joemazzello-imagines @pinkdiamond1016 @sebbybaby0 @pan-pride-12 @hotchlinebling @lee-rin-ah @sunshine-em @word-scribbless @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @emmice9 @nohalohoseok @giveusbackourbucky @bauslut @yourlovelynewsbian @sparklingkeylimepie @aili28 @kingandrear @reader4027 @spnobsessedmemes @rogers-mouth @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @hotchnersgoddess @buckybau @phoenixfyre374 @sana-li @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandi-ass-prentiss @thatinspiredgirl @songbird400 @dontkissthewriter @ellyhotchner @a-dorky-book-keeper @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @ahopelessromantic @violentvulgarvolatile @andreasworlsboring101 @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @synonymforlame @lcvischmitt

[imomomi]

A/N: This is part of a BTS x Haikyuu collab, the masterlist can be found here and inspired by the song Serendipity.

Summary: Kuroo’s life was meant to be simple. Go to Nationals, try to win, and get into a good college. But, it all goes haywire when Kenma brings a cat to practice. Now, Kuroo must rethink everything he knew about life and himself.

         Rain pattered on the windows of Gym B as the team stretched. Kuroo looked around the gym wondering what was holding Kenma up. It was unusual for him to be late or skip practice, but the rain might have contributed to the slight cold he’d been developing over the last week. Kuroo wondered if it was better to cancel their Friday practice and give everyone the chance to get home before the storm got any worse. Coach Nekomata would most likely agree.

          The gym doors open with a bang and a roll of thunder echoing from outside. The noise and flash of lightening that followed sent his heart into his mouth. Kenma entered, not a drop of water on him despite the heavy rain. Nestled in his arms rested a sleeping cat. Its gray fur gleamed unnaturally beneath the gym lights.

          The sight of their setter cooing softly to the cat sent a whirl of enthusiasm through the team, especially Lev who jumped towards Kenma long limbs shaking with excitement.

          “Let me see,” he demanded, attempting to snatch the cat out of Kenma’s hands. Kenma dodged him easily, but the cat startled and lept out of his hands. It strode slowly across the gym floor, coming to a stop between Yaku and Kuroo.

          “Leave her alone, Lev,” said Kenma. A sharp slap filled the air and Lev hissed, rubbing at his stinging hand. “She was lost, I couldn’t just leave her.”

           Kuroo knelt and held a hand towards the cat to coax her forward. She stared at the limb curiously and then sat on her back legs, holding her own paw up. He was shocked with the paw tapped against his palm as if high fiving him.

           “She did that to me too,” said Kenma softly. The cat jumped at the sound of his voice, jumping over Kuroo’s outstretched towards Kenma. She settled at his feet, tail wrapping around his ankle.

           “She’s smart,” said Kuroo. Kenma hummed, nodding in agreement.

           “You need to take Fuku home,” said Kenma. Lucky. There was something cute about Kenma naming a cat that.

           “What? Why?”

           “My mom won’t let her stay. And…I found her curled up in your jacket.”

           “I can’t take her home! Where is she going to stay?”

           “It’s just for a couple of days, until we find a new home for her.”

           Kuroo looked down at the cat. Bright gold eyes met his. He knew whatever fight he would put up, Kenma had an answer for. Outside the storm raged on. The smell of rain wafted into the gym. The rumble of lightening sounded like the purr of a cat.

           “You’ll behave, won’t you?” He rubbed the spot between Fuku’s ears. The cat didn’t respond, but her nose twitched and filled Kuroo with an uneasy sense of foreboding.

           A couple of days turned into weeks. Kuroo kept the act up and asked Kenma day after day if he had found a new owner. But, part of him was growing used to having Fuku there. Each day, she would wake before him, padding quietly across his room to burrow in his sock drawer. Sometimes he let her out when he went on a run. When he came back, she’d sit on their roof snacking on fish or dried squid. Other days, Fuku would follow him and Kenma to school. Though she never rode the train with them, he would find her wandering the grounds during lunch.

           Kuroo wondered if Kenma had done it on purpose. At home, Kuroo was often alone. His grandparents would take day trips to visit their various friends and his father worked late. Talking to a cat was a step closer to insanity, but it was nice having someone to vent too, even if she couldn’t quiet respond.

           He liked it most when Fuku would curl next to him on the bed, her gaze focused on his books as if she understood the words printed on the page. Sometimes he would read aloud to break the silence. It was a calm and quiet peace that he hadn’t known he was lacking.

           Today, Fuku rested on his bed, curled around one of his old sweatshirts. She pawed at the logo curiously.

           “Nekoma. Like you, neko-chan. I’m the captain of the volleyball team.”

           A head tilt.

           “Yeah, I know. I don’t seem like the type to be responsible and all that, but you’d be surprised.”

           She lept from the bed, skidding across his desk. The poster he had been working on—why didn’t they have a manager?!—crumbled under her paws.

           “Shit,” he cursed. Annoyance flared. Sometimes Fuku did things like this; whatever luck her name brought must have been buried deep. “I need that for fundraising.”

           The cat blinked and stretched, crunching the poster even more. He had the weird feeling that, she had done it deliberately to annoy him with an apathetic air of calm.

            He needed new friends…and a new cat.

           Wind blew into the empty classroom as Kuroo unlocked the latch on the windows. He’d offered to clean, only to avoid being too early to practice. Last time, he’d shown up on time, Yaku had spent a half hour mocking him for being more of an old man than Coach Nekomata. Chalk dug into his cuticles. A healthy layer of dust stuck to the front of his sweater. The classroom had last been cleaned by Tsubaki Ayumi, a girl who did her homework seconds before their sensei walked in. She cleaned in the same fashion, pushing crumbs beneath desks and under the bookshelf. Kuroo found his annoyance growing.

           The trees rustled. A fresh flutter of petals fell onto the window ledge from the blossoming trees outside. But, something else stuck between the trees. Kuroo narrowed his eyes. Was that someone’s jumper?

           “Hello,” a voice called. Kuroo looked up and jumped back. A girl was hanging from the ledge of the window, smiling at him.

           “Wh….what? Who are you?”

           “That’s not very nice.” she said. One of her hands left the ledge to pull her hair away from her face and his heart lurched out of his chest.

           “Are you insane? You’ll fall!” he shouted, jumping to grab her wrist and pull her into the classroom. She was wearing their school uniform, and Kuroo vaguely knew he had seen her at Nekoma before. She fell into the classroom face front and hissed.

           A poster was thrust into his hands. “Have you seen this cat?”

           “Who are you? How did you climb that high?”

           “I didn’t climb up. I climbed down from the roof.”

           “What year are you in? Which homeroom? You can’t just do that!”

           Her head tilted, “We’re in the same class.”

           His hands twisted in his hair. Tie loosened; blazer tossed over the back of his chair. Her knees were scrapped, stockings bloodied. On his seventh birthday, he had climbed the tallest tree in his backyard and had gotten stuck for an hour. His father had come home to find him crying on the back porch cut up from sliding down the trunk of the tree. He peered at the girl’s face, the little cuts on her cheeks and looked at the tree outside their classroom. Had she really climbed down from the roof?

           “I’ll take you to the nurse. Come on,” he said. She jumped as he moved, almost frightened by his tallness. But she followed. Her nose stuck high in the air and her steps were light and airy.

           “Kuroo-san, my cat?”

           “What’s your name?”

           “My name?” she murmured. Her fingers traced a pattern on her temple. “We’ve been in the same class for three years. Four, if you count Junior High.”

           He looked at her for a long while. Kuroo wasn’t the type to forget people and someone like her didn’t seem like the type to be easily overlooked. Guilt swirled and he tried his hardest to think of her name. He usually avoided the girls in class. Not that there was something wrong with them, they just had a vision of him in their heads that was often outlandish compared to his actual personality.

           “It’s alright, Kuroo-san.”

           “Kuroo? Y/N?” Kai entered the classroom, looking surprised to find the two of them together. Y/N jerked back. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her skirt as if it will somehow hide her scrapped knees.

           “Y/N? Oh, you’re the one…” he trailed off. The one whose mother had died. His unspoken words shook in the air. A pure longing to flee the room filled him. Kai spared him a pitying glance and guided Y/N out of the room.

           Their teacher warned them not to bring it up to Y/N who returned from a week’s absence looking pale and withdrawn. Kuroo had never really noticed her. Silent was a word he rarely associated with people, but Y/N had always been like that. His memories of her were sparse at best. But once in their second year, she had freaked out when one of the other boys stole her confession letter and read it aloud. No one really remembered who she was trying to confess too, but everyone remembered the bruise on that had bloomed on Takashi’s face after she punched him.

           Now, everyone remembered her because of her dead mother.

           He looked down at the poster and let out a loud groan. Only he had this type of luck. The cat staring up at him was Fuku.

           Kenma disappeared behind the door, shutting it softly behind him. Y/N and Kuroo stood silently beside one another, looking at the door for a moment. Y/N swallowed, turning away and starting to walk forward. Kuroo walked beside her, bag swinging from his arm with a casual grace. Alone and far from her earlier mania, Y/N was increasingly shy. She seemed almost embarrassed by her actions.

           “Come on,” said Kuroo.

           “I’m sorry,” she shook her head sharply, hands tightening into fists at her side, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just worried about Fuku.”

           Y/N glanced down at her wrist, which was slightly swollen and a raw red that would surely give way to a bruise come morning. Kuroo was quiet; so was Y/N. Both trapped within their own minds, riding spiraling thoughts.

        “Can I ask—” Y/N lifted her gaze and met his. He hesitated and then rambled forth, “—what’s so special about the cat?”

           “Of course, you can.” Silence. He stared at her. She stared back. “Oh, that was you asking.”

           “Yeah.” A smile tugged at his lips.

           “Fuku is lucky.”

           “That’s it?”

           “Well, I hardly know you.”

           “Fair enough.”

           “Hmm.”

           “So, Kai and you seem to get along. Have you been friends long?”

           “Since first year.”

           “That’s nice. Bet he asked you to come to a ton of volleyball games.”

           “Uhh, no, not really.”

           This was awkward. Too awkward. What did he say? Volleyball was his usual go-to topic, but she seemed uninterested. The sky above them was overcast and gray, dark clouds edging over the horizon. His grandfather should be home. Maybe, they could offer Y/N a ride if it started raining, but he hoped that she would be gone before then.

          “Kuroo, you’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” she said. A stunned look came over his face as his mouth fell open slightly. Nonsensical words fell from his mouth as he attempted to stutter out an answer. Y/N scrunched her nose.

          “What? Why are you asking that?”

          “Hinako—she’s the class president—always says you’re ‘very mature’ when we’re in the locker room, but you’re kinda odd.”

          Heat spread across his nose and cheeks. If the world worked the way he wanted it to, it would open up and swallow him at this moment. They stopped in front of a tall narrow house that hid a wide backyard. His grandmother was seated on the front stairs, tending to a pot of roses. She looked up as they approached. Her eyes flickered towards Y/N and back to him; a wide smile stretched across her face.

          “Tetsu, did you bring a friend over?”

          Y/N bowed low. “I’m L/N Y/N. Kuroo-san found my cat Fuku. I’m sorry if she caused you any trouble the last few weeks.”

          “She’s been the sweetest cat,” she stood and stretched. “Come inside, have you eaten? I hope Tetsurou hasn’t been making any trouble for you.”

          “Obaa-chan, she’s going to get Fuku and leaving,” Kuroo groaned. His grandmother paid no attention to his words. She dusted off her apron and ushered Y/N into the house. He followed behind slowly. His grandfather was seated on the floor, watching a game of football on the television. The sharp, crisp smell of lemon filled his nose. The floors are still slightly wet from when his grandmother had cleaned them.

          “Oi, Tetsu, a girl?”

          “No, Ojii-san. She’s here for Fuku.”

          From the kitchen, he heard the crack of an egg and the sizzle of butter. Y/N would not leave without a full belly. Y/N was telling a shortened version of her story. He winced when Y/N mentioned having gone to Junior High with him. There would be no end to the questions later.

           “A cat?”

           “Her cat. Climbed a tree and everything looking for her. I almost had a heart attack when she came by our classroom window.”

           His grandfather laughed: a laugh that immediately warmed the room.

            “Fuku,” crooned Y/N. The cat hissed and crawled underneath his bed. Y/N followed. In his head, he ran over the last time he had cleaned his room. Hadn’t Kenma thrown his ramen cups down there at one point? Kuroo had the nasty habit of leaving his laundry everywhere. He prayed that all his underwear were in the hamper.

          “Ahh, fuck. Ow…”

          “You ok?”

          She wiggled out from under the bed, a thin layer of dust covered her uniform and hair. Her cheeks puffed out and Y/N held her arm out to him, showing the red scratches that now covered her arm.

          “Is she not your cat?”

          “She is. It’s Fuku…she’s being difficult.”

          He didn’t quiet understand. A cat was a cat, it exhibited certain animalistic behaviors, but it was still domesticated. Fuku never really scratched anything, just the occasional paper and bedsheet. Why would she attack Y/N? Ruby ran over the slightly swollen cuts. It was on her wrist too, the one she had hurt climbing the tree at school.

          “Shit—sit by my desk. I’ll get you some band aids.”

          “It’s alright. Fuku didn’t scratch that deep. I think she’s had a bit of trouble recognizing me after being gone for so long.” Her voice was brittle, caught with unshed tears. There was a story behind the cat that Y/N wasn’t ready to share that. Kuroo should be more curious, but he’s still reeling for the girl who emerged at dinner—funny and sharing stories with his grandfather that are equally rowdy as the best of his.

          Fuku crawled out from under the bed, padding to his side. Her tail wrapped around his ankle. Kuroo bent and picked her up, holding her out to Y/N. Fuku struggled in his grip and escaped the moment his hands loosened.

          Y/N’s face fell. Kuroo’s sure he wasn’t meant to catch the flash of genuine distress that crossed her face.

          “I think it’s best she stays here for the night,” Y/N said. Her earlier merriment has all but faded. “Can I try again tomorrow?”

          Kuroo doesn’t think twice before agreeing.

          “Dad?” she called. No answer. The door was locked, his shoes gone.

          Y/N had not seen her father for many days. Since her mother had died, he had become a ghost. Coming and going at odd hours. Choosing to sleep in his office rather than his bedroom. There are nights when she woke and found him pouring over old photo albums. She despised his silence and hated her own cowardness. She cannot put a name to the feeling that cropped up when her thoughts wondered to her mother. Her stomach pulled and tugged, and she felt ready to shout. Even school and her books were not enough to distract her.

           What she really wanted was her mother back. Instead, she lived in a quiet state of discomfort, torn between aiding her grieving father and acknowledging that her mother was gone.

           She ventured further into the house. Everything was a reminder of her mother. The wallpaper redone when they first learned of her illness. The couches belonged to her mother’s mother. The kitchen sat unused for many months. Y/N did not know how to cook and most of her afternoons were spent in the hospital by her mother’s side. It was unfair that she had to face the reminder every day while her father hid from it.

           “Guess, it’s just me,” Y/N muttered. Fuku’s water bowl evaporated in the weeks she was gone. Y/N shuffled toward the kitchen and took a water pitcher to refill it. One day, she would come back. Y/N would pry her out of Kuroo’s hands if she had too.

           Five years ago, her mother had arrived home, soaked and sniffling with a tiny kitten clutched between her hands. Y/N’s father, half exasperated, half charmed, scolded her as he helped her warm up. They seemed so content with one another and lost in a world only the two of them knew. When Y/N remembered her parents together, she remembered that day.

           Maybe that was why she felt so desperate to get Fuku back. Fuku was just a cat, but she held a small piece of what Y/N had lost. Her life had become disjointed fragments that Y/N couldn’t reassemble.

           Some days slid by in a haze: warm, cold, good, and bad. She felt as if she had lost something greater than just her mother. A piece of her had shriveled. She tossed her jacket on the couch. She climbed the stairs. She slept and woke again. The same endless cycle.

           He missed the train that morning. Kenma was down with a slight fever and his stop at the convenience store to pick up medicine had set his schedule off. Now, trapped between a crowd of salarymen, Kuroo tried to inch forward. If he missed this train, he would miss morning practice entirely.

           The hiss and rumble of a train engine was a sound that normally would put Kuroo to sleep. On long trips they took to training camps or practice matches, he looked forward to the naps he’d take on the train. Though it was rare that he could sleep for longer than an hour, given his team.

           His eyes skim the platform, stopping on a familiar figure. So, Y/N took this train too. His father attempted to drive her home last night, but she insisted that she lived nearby and left in such a hurry that Kuroo got scolded for letting her go alone.

He thought that she looked lonely. Hadn’t he looked like that too once? Before he met Kenma, Kuroo was shy and nervous. Tokyo was huge, full of smoke and buildings taller than any Kuroo had ever seen. And, his mother was gone. It was years since he thought of his early grief over her death. His grandparents, father, and friends all helped ease the pain.

A train passed by; a gust of hot wind followed its trail. Kuroo inched forward. Y/N still hadn’t seen him. Her head was tucked down, nose buried in a thick book. What a nerd.

           “L/N?” he called.

           She didn’t react. The page flipped. Kuroo hovered near her awkwardly. She liked her cat, maybe that would get her talking.  Or he could scare her. As he’s about to creep next to her, her gaze lifted and met his. Kuroo coughed and pressed his hands behind his back.

           “You look like a con-man,” said Y/N.

           Kuroo’s face twisted, “Ehh, I swear you’re out to get me or something.”

           “No, I just pay attention. It’s not hard.” The book snapped closed. The corners of her eyes tightened. “How is Fuku?”

           “Are you still mad she likes me more than you?”

           Her lips pursed. “She does not!”

           “I’m pretty sure she wanted to stay with me. Maybe you’re a dog person?”

           “I’m not having this conversation with you. Why are you taking this train? Where is Kozume-san?”

           “Are you a stalker? Cause, I don’t have any kind of inheritance or anything. My death will be worth nothing.”

           “No. I take the same train and you’re incredibly loud. Far too loud for the morning.”

           “Late start?”

           “I was up late.”

          Their train pulled into the station. A swarm of people step on, all dressed in various suits and ties, heading deeper into the city where they’ll work until sunset. Kuroo pressed his hand against the door and let Y/N step in first. That was the day Kuroo and Y/N became friends. Kuroo never truly knew how much she needed someone those days.

           Their friendship came like a crack in a dam, first a slow trickle of water than all at once. Kuroo was slightly stunned by how seamlessly Y/N fit into his life. There are times when he’s surprised by aspects of her personality. A ruthlessness came out during their economics classes and they’ve become known for their frequent debates during history. Y/N took her lunches with Kai or her other friends, but there are days when she joined him and Kenma, exchanging quick words over coding, game theory and design.

           One Monday, he dropped a smoothie by her desk. He’d never seen her drink anything but her bottled green tea, but it felt like the right thing to do that morning.

           “I’m not letting you copy my homework,” she said, dryly, “What’s in this?”

           “Strawberry, apple, ginger and spinach.”

           “Sounds disgusting healthy,” she said. Taking a sip, she made a face at the sharp aftertaste of ginger. “Do you actually need the homework?”

           “This is a college prep class, we’re not all slackers,” he said. He knocked his knuckles on her desk, pulling a sheet of her math homework over and flapping it in the air. She grimaced, remembering the half an hour she spent trying to figure out why her answer to number seven was wrong.

           “Just checking,” she answered, snatching the worn sheet back and tucking it into her folder.

           “Wanna be our manager?” he asked. The words slipped out before he realized, but Kuroo didn’t regret asking.

           “Really?”

           He thought about it. “Yeah, it’d be nice to have someone help with all the planning.”

           “But shouldn’t you ask your team first?”

           “I’m the captain. Yaku and Kai already know you, Kenma too.”

          Y/N didn’t look like she would say no. In fact, she seemed a bit pleased at being asked. Someone—Takashi no doubt—knocked his bag over as they made their way to their seat. He didn’t get an answer, but Kuroo formulated a plan to get her to do it. He had a feeling that Coach Nekomata would help her, the same way he had helped Kuroo—or maybe being around the team would take away some of the despair that crossed her face when she thought he wasn’t looking.

          “I have a question,” she said, leaning forward. Her eyes gave nothing away. The flat line of her mouth reminded him of her expression when she came across a particularly hard math problem.

           “Well, what is it?”

           “What’s with the hair?” she asked flatly. Instinctively, his hand rose up to try and flatten the mess. Bedhead. A case so severe he’d never figured out just what to do with it. Rumors had spread around the school about his nighttime activities giving him an unsavory reputation when it came to dating. None of it was true, but once the rumors had started, there was no real way to end them. The truth was that his hair was a result of too many pillows and constant movement while sleeping.

           “It’s not what you think,” he blurted out. “I’ve tried to get rid of it. Nothing works. I live my life in a constant state of dishevelment.”

           “Just sleep like a normal person?” she suggested.

           “I do!”

           “Of course, you do.”      

            “What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked. The look of mock surprise fell away and a slow smirk grew on his face. “Curiosity finally go to you?” he asked.

           Y/N didn’t answer, waving her hand in the air to draw him closer. He pointed at himself, mocking her silent request. She did it again, rolling her eyes as he slowly sauntered forward.

           “Closer,” she murmured. He inched nearer; body angled toward her. Before he could dodge, her fingers latched onto his ear, pulling him down to her level. A yelp left his mouth, and his body twitched, trying to get away from her hands.

           “Did I agree to be your manager?”

           “That hurts,” he whined. She let him go, cheeks puffing out in annoyance. Nekoma had been a volleyball powerhouse for years, but they had an astonishingly bad record when it came to keeping a manager. Having witnessed his teammates practice, it was no wonder why. They were loud, rambunctious and whoever was their manager needed to be able to deal with the multiple personalities that were on the team. Dodging Kuroo’s insanity, Yaku’s temper, Lev’s wild arms, and the rogue spikes that would no doubt leave bruises was too much for any one person.

           “First fight?” Yaku muttered, passing by them. Y/N stuck up her middle finger which he mimicked seconds later, sending a mocking smile in her direction.

           “So, you’ll do it?” Kuroo asked, drawing her attention back to him. “We don’t expect you to show up to every practice. I know you have your own stuff to deal with afterschool and we don’t want to get in the way of that. But having someone at our games to help out would be better than nothing.”

           “What’s in it for me?”

           “Other than getting to spend more time with me?”

           “Yes, other than that,” she said, rolling her eyes. Kuroo’s smile fell, lips twisting to the side. Pressing a hand to her shoulder, he leaned down, so they were eye-level. She wondered if there was some spirit in Nekoma that lent that cat-like glint to everyone’s eyes or if it was an aftereffect of spending so much time at the school.

           “Think of your college resume,” he said seriously.

           “That just makes me want to say no.” A soft laugh left her, nose scrunching.

           “What do you want then?”

           “I don’t know yet.”

           “When you do, let me know. I’ll make sure you get it, whatever it is,” he promised.

           The air in Tokyo was crisp and brought with it the sweet smell of summer and freshly burnt wood. The sun inched past the horizon, giving way to the thick velvet of a star strewn sky. Y/N pulled her jacket closer, looking at the rising form of Tokyo’s Skytree. The streets seemed so familiar it left her with the annoying nag of déjà vu. Curling her fingers into her fist, Y/N pushed away the familiar ache of pain that she often ignored.

           Her father walked on ahead of her, head hanging low, shoulders slumped. In a couple of months, Y/N would reach the one-year mark. One year without her mother and then the gap would grow. She’d never admit to her father, that there were times where she missed her mother so much that she was left with a void of sorrow that did nothing but grow endlessly. He missed her too. It was strewn across his face at the oddest of moments. Once when he had been scolding her for coming home late after practice, he had stopped in the middle, face sagging with grief. Those looks seared into Y/N’s mind, reminding her at every moment just how much they had lost.

           “It should be up here,” he muttered, turning to face her with a small smile. Y/N nodded, mutely. Following his quick strides, she pushed her hands into her pockets, poking one finger out of the forgotten hole. A trail of lanterns began to light the sky. Her father paused, offering her his shaking hand. Grasping it tightly, she linked elbows with him, pressing against his side.

           A small temple was tucked away into an old square that was a remnant of the days before Tokyo had been made capital. The streets were lined with stalls, selling fishcakes, yakitori, and other festival foods. All around them families dressed in summer yukatas passed. The smell of burning fires wafted in the air. Y/N felt slightly undressed. Ahead, waiting between the gate of the temple was a familiar figure.

           “Kuroo?” she asked. He stood at the entrance of the temple with his family. Both of his grandparents were wearing yukata, heavily embroidered but made of thin fabrics.

           “Oi, Y/N—” He froze at the sight of her father and offered a quick, polite bow. “You should have said you were coming; I would have waited for you.”

           “I…my father and I wanted to come together.”

           “Is this a classmate?” her father asked.

           “Kuroo Tetsurou, sir. Y/N and I are friends.”

           “He’s the one who found Fuku,” said Y/N. Her father frowned. She wondered if he also missed their cat. Or maybe, he was startled by the news that Fuku had been missing.

           “I’ll go ahead, Y/N,” he said. Before she could stop him, her father disappeared up the steps of the temple. Y/N sighed.

           Kuroo stared at her, his brows pinched together. “Is everything alright?”

           “It’s our first time coming without my mother,” she explained, wringing her hands nervously. Understanding flickered across Kuroo’s face. Hands, slightly calloused but smooth, pressed over hers. The warm touch anchored her. Y/N breathed sharply, instantly seeking out the broken bits of comfort she could find. It wasn’t fair to Kuroo though, to burden him with her grief. She pulled away.

           “Y/N.”

           She looked in the distance where the shadow of her father stalked.

           “Look at me.”

           “I should go.”

           “My mom died when I was seven.”

           She froze. Kuroo moved closer, calm but steady as if trying to stop a wild animal from fleeing. She felt like that; caught in the snare of his words.

           “We can’t compare griefs. But, when I lost her, I felt like the world had shattered. You don’t need to pretend to be happy…not with me.”

           Her lip quivered. She said in a small voice, “I miss her.”

         The sun burned past the horizon; around them a thousand voices spoke over one another. Kuroo stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug. She breathed in sharply and held on tight, as if to trap his comfort in her grip. Thank you, she wanted to say. Kuroo swayed slightly and she knew that he could hear her unspoken words.

            Y/N did not become their manager. Not officially at least. She tended to show up to practice only to follow him home and attempt to coax Fuku into coming home with her. The day she succeeded was bright and sunny. Kuroo was half listening to her story about how Yamamoto and Kenma had been fighting while he was in the locker rooms.

           His mind was spirling down a dangerous path. Kuroo found himself entirely focused on Y/N. He doesn’t understand why. She didn’t seem remotely interested in him. He had no time to waste, twisting his throughs over a girl. But, as much as he tried to avoid thinking of her that way, he found himself entertaining the same line of thought over and over again.

           “Sorry what?” he asked, realizing that she was waiting for an answer.

           Y/N laughed. “Coach Nekomata told me you had a training camp?”

           “Oh, yeah. If you come, you can finally meet Bokuto. And Tsukki. And all the rest.”

           “How tempting, me and a bunch of mangers cleaning up your sweat.”

As they reached his house, Y/N bounded forward to greet his grandmother. Sometimes he was convinced she was only friends with him, so she would be fed. The amount of bentos he had brought to school for her exceeded normal standards.

           “Obaa-san, it isn’t good for you back to be hunched over the plants like that,” Y/N scolded. She helped his grandmother up the stairs, chatting all the while.

           Kuroo followed them into the house. Y/N didn’t bother going upstairs first. While her mother was sick, Y/N had been home alone often and forced to cook. Sheepishly, she admitted she wasn’t any good at it and his grandmother had taken pity on her.

           Occasionally, Kenma and the team came over to try her latest creations. They were lucky they weren’t subjected to the daily disasters he was. Once they are fed and watered, Kuroo and her ventured upstairs. His grandfather tossed a wicked look his way as they head toward his room.

           Fuku was surprisingly receptive to Y/N and approached her on her own. Usually, Kuroo would need to pick her up first and give her to Y/N.

           “Fuku, come on, girl. Don’t you want to eat tuna at home?” Y/N said. Fuku inched closer and then clawed at Y/N’s tights. Surprise and then a bright smile stretched on her face.

           She picked up Fuku, cooing all the while the way a mother did with her child. It felt like the ending of a book.

           But, Y/N looked happy for the first time she had met him. Not the fake happiness she wore like a mask. He found himself grinning for no good reason, other than she had smiled. While she was distracted, he studied her face committing it to memory. Eyes brighter than the stars, deeper than water, and lined with affection. Going forward, he hoped that she looked like this all the time.

           “Y/N, you’re happy, aren’t you?”

           “Right now?” She turned and lifted Fuku up into her arms. She softened her expression, crackling with a warm energy. “You make me happy, Kuroo.”

           It slowly dawned on him that while he was staring, she had caught his gaze. Lost in his thoughts, he felt no embarrassment, nor did Y/N look upset. It looked more like she was waiting for something.

           He wanted to tell her that he liked her—not the way one like a friend, but he liked the way she spoke, every word measured and certain. Or the way she remembered things he had mentioned only once. Or the way she knew what he was asking before he asked her. He liked her calmness, her banter, how she would do anything for the things she loved, and the slight madness that he both encouraged and hated. His words failed him.

           Kuroo didn’t want anything to change. If he told her and she rejected him, would their friendship be over? Besides, what could he offer her? Y/N still grieved over her mother. What kind of man would he be to take advantage of that for his own gain?

           He closed his eyes for a moment. Y/N sat next to him on the bed and rested her head on his shoulder. Fuku curled up in her arms. Her closeness was the sweetest, bitterest thing he had ever known.

[kaistrex]

Holy shit it sure was, I had the wrong tab open and I was not paying attention. I'm so sorry!

Where the Real Beasts Are ⛰️-⭐-🎢

Haha no worries! It's so easily done!

It turns out I had a lot to say, so strap in 😂

(Where the Real Beasts Are)

⛰️- What was the hardest part?

Because I wrote the fic over such a long period, there’s probably something from earlier on that I’m forgetting, but as it’s freshest in my memory, I think keeping myself motivated to get the final chapter finished was one of the hardest parts. When I first sat down to work on it after the penultimate chapter was out, I had about 2k words of notes/scenes written, and it just got longer and longer as I chipped away at it until it somehow hit 22k.

Usually when I write, I can see the finish line steadily approaching, but as the chapter expanded and I fleshed out all of the scenes, it just seemed to get further and further away and was low-key soul destroying 😂 I think it was just the idea of finally seeing the entire fic finished after years of working on it, and the thought of basking in the glory of hitting post for the final time, that was my biggest motivation in getting it done haha

It was a complete bitch to edit, and I’ve since vowed never to estimate the final chapter count of a longfic again, because then I feel a ridiculous need to actually stick to it instead of allowing myself a bit more freedom.

🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?

Honestly, I was most worried the two times that the Graphic Depictions of Violence archive warning came into play towards the end (one more extreme than the other lol). I really thought I’d wake up in the morning to people furious that I didn’t leave a warning that it was about to get a little bit gory, so I was cringing away from the screen a little every time I opened my inbox to read any new comments in case of abuse, but then nothing ever came haha

I added that archive warning to the fic when I posted the very first chapter back in 2018 in preparation for the fic’s finale (3 years later...), so I was ready if anyone bitched about it when the warning was right there in the tags and they read it anyway (as I’m sure we’ve all seen people do often enough before). I worked really hard on the plot, and one of the instances of violence was supposed to be a surprise, so no way in hell was I going to spoil that ~something~ was about to go down in the chapter notes.

But in the end, I worried over nothing 😂

⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?

There’s a whole lot of fic to go through to answer this, so I’m probably forgetting something, but I think my favourite scene is back in their rooms after the masquerade. I’m the sort of person who feels good about something once I’ve written it, but then as soon as I post it, I tend to cringe too hard to be able to reread it properly, but if I look over that scene again, I’m still really pleased with the atmosphere of it. I don’t know if anyone else feels the same, but to me it feels like there’s a hush over the whole scene, like it’s a held breath or something, and I like how slow and tender Derek is as he undresses Stiles TvT

Shoutout also to the final line/paragraph of the fic which I am still proud of. Endings are always the worst part to write, and I can’t say a fic is finished until the ~feel~ of the final sentence is right. I wanted the final note to be something happy, and something I’d still be pleased with even after time passes, and so far that still holds haha

Derek pulls back to brush their noses together, sunlight sparkling in his eyes of green and gold, the shadow of a daffodil petal falling on his cheek. Stiles’ heart is so full that he can feel it beating in his chest, tugging him forward like perhaps it always has, leading him where he was always meant to be, straight into the arms of his beautiful, tender-hearted wolf.

I wanted it to tie things together, so it ends up touching on the procession that opens the fic with the mention of the daffodil, the colour of Derek’s eyes which Stiles had seen when Derek was first given to him as a ‘direwolf’, and then it vaguely references the journey Stiles was lead on throughout the fic. The final ‘tender-hearted wolf’ was supposed to be like a juxtaposition of how good Derek is despite Kate/the Argents’ belief that him being a wolf makes him a ‘beast’, to try and tie in the through line of the whole fic and the title.

I have no idea if that even came across to anyone reading it (I don’t usually think about word choice like that, ever!), but I’m proud of it anyway 😊 It took a lot of agonising!

(I did consider for 0.5 seconds if I should capitalise ‘Wolf’ to reflect how Derek first came to him, but realised immediately that would just highlight Derek as a pet which I knew was a BIG NO-NO and not the vibe I was go for at all.)

-

Thanks for the ask! I always end up having a lot to say for these things, so I hope it was at least a little bit interesting haha

The icons are from here if anyone wants to send any my way, or you can ask anything else that comes to mind. My inbox is always open~

[dccomicsimagines]

Spilled Coffee - Wally West x Reader

Requested by Anon -  Impulse accidentally knocks a girl over while running only for Wally to fall for her when he stops and helps her up and then tries his hardest to find her when he's not in uniform?

***

You shuffled out your front door and down the driveway. A warm cup of fresh coffee in your hand, filling your nose with it’s lovely, wide wake scent. Your overnight Amazon order had just been delivered, but the deliveryman left it at the end of the driveway. Personally, you didn’t see why they couldn’t at least leave it by the front door. 

Taking a long sip from your cup, you bent down to pick up the package. You straightened before a car honk shattered the peaceful quiet of the day. A bright yellow and blue car sped down the street. “Come get me, Flash Boys,” a man in an orange and blue costume and a mask shouted out the window. The car skid into the turn, running into a few garbage cans on the way. 

You jumped slightly before carefully steady your coffee. “Maniac.” You tucked your package under your arm and turned to go back to your house. However, after your first step, a gust of wind hit you. It was so powerful, you lost your balance and crashed hard onto the pavement. 

Your coffee splashed onto you, burning your skin. “Shit.” You checked the package, which you landed on. It didn’t look damaged. 

“Sorry about him. He never looks where he’s going,” a voice said. You looked up, wide eyed at the hand offered out to you. “Did that coffee burn you?” 

“A bit.” You took the hand and got to your feet. “I didn’t break the cup at least.” Your body ached from the impact. You’ll have bruises tonight for sure. It took a moment before you noticed the red and yellow suit on the owner of the hand. “Is it Halloween?” 

The red headed man chuckled. “No, I’m Kid Flash.” You stared at him blankly. “A superhero.” 

“Oh, that’s why you’re wearing that?” You shook your head. “Well, thanks for helping me up.” You started toward your house with a limp. “Better go stop that guy.” 

Kid Flash was still standing where you left him when you reached your front door. You raised an eyebrow at him. Suddenly, he shifted before disappearing in a flash. You sighed. “What a crazy day,” you mumbled, going inside to change out of your coffee stained clothes. 

***

“Where were you?”  Bart asked as he finished deconstructing Trickster's car, leaving Trickster in a state of shock. He sat on his car seat with a loose steering wheel in his hand.  He threw the steering wheel with a scream of frustration. 

“You knocked over a civilian.” Wally zoomed to tie up Trickster with a piece of extension cord. “I stopped to help.” 

Bart shrugged. “Oops. Were they feeling the mode?” 

“Yeah, but then they didn’t know who I was.” Wally stopped next to Bart. 

Trickster laughed. “Not everybody knows you, Flash Boy. They only know the Flash.” 

The cops pulled up. “Let’s go.” Bart elbowed Wally before dashing off. Wally sighed, following him. They both rushed out of their suits and into civvies. “Do you think we missed the surprise part of the party?” 

“No, Uncle Barry is supposed to pick her up from work at five. He’s always late, so we should be good,” Wally chuckled as they both zoomed through the backdoor. Joan jumped, almost dropping the cake in surprise. Wally quickly caught it. “Sorry.” 

“Boys.” Joan shook her head. “You almost missed it. Barry just texted that they were on their way home.” She took the cake back and glared at Bart in warning when he tried to steal some frosting. “Bartholomew, snack on something else.” 

Bart blushed and zoomed off into the living room to find snacks. “Do you think it’s weird that someone doesn’t know who Kid Flash is?” Wally asked, crossing his arms. It bugged him. He used to hate it when he got called Speedy or Mini-Flash, but for someone to not even recognize him. You lived in Central City. How could you not know who he was?

“No.” Joan took the cake into the living room. Wally trailed behind her. “Not everyone is so into superheroes to know all your names.” 

“But she lives in Central City? It’s our city,” Wally exclaimed. Mary came over and started to smooth out Wally’s hair. “Mom, stop it.” 

“I don’t know why you can’t run a comb through your hair once and a while.” Mary shook her head. 

Rudy clapped a hand on Wally’s shoulder. “Listen to your mother.” 

Wally sighed. “But the entirety of Central City knows the Flash, thus they know Kid Flash. I mean it makes sense if no one knows who Bart is.” 

“Ouch.” Bart pouted, eating a bag of Chicken Whizees. “I’m so crash they don’t have to know my name is Impulse.”  

“They’re here, everyone quiet and hide,” Jay said, turning off the lights. Wally got pushed down by his dad. He grumbled, still obsessed with the idea you didn’t know who Kid Flash was. 

***

“How does someone who lives in Central City not know who Kid Flash is?!” Wally said for the hundredth time that week. Dick rolled his eyes. 

“Can you give it a rest? Who cares if she doesn’t know who Kid Flash was?” Dick landed a punch on a robber. Wally and Dick were having guys’ night out only to find robbery in progress.  

Wally zoomed around another robber so fast that he got disoriented enough to back up and fall into the nearby trash can. “I care.” Wally stopped beside Dick once all the robbers were down. 

“Cops are on their way. Let’s go.” Dick climbed out the window and landed on the street below. Wally dashed down the stairs and out the front door to join him. They both walked down the street, heading toward the new club they decided to check out. “You need to get turbed, dude. I mean we’re on a covert ops team. No one is supposed to know who we are.” 

“People know who Robin is.” Wally threw his arms in the air. “There was even posters made of us. Remember Gar had them in his room.” 

Dick stared at him blankly. “Walls, not everyone is obsessed with superheroes.” 

“So? I mean it’s like not knowing who the president is.” Wally kicked a beer can down the sidewalk before picking it up and tossing it in a garbage can. 

“There are a lot of people who prefer not to know who the president is.” Dick laughed. They joined the line into the club. 

“What is this place anyway?” Wally tapped his foot, eyeing the bouncer somewhat nervously. 

Dick shrugged. “It’s a new club. Plays live music every night.” He bumped Wally’s arm. “I heard the band playing tonight is awesome. Barbara recommended it.” 

“Oh, Barbara recommended it?” Wally raised an eyebrow. “So is that working out for you two now?” 

Dick bit his lips to hold back a smirk. “We’re not feeling the aster yet, but it’s getting close. I think she’s going to give me a chance.” 

“Good for you, dude.” Wally smiled, bumping Dick’s arm back as they reached the front of the line. They showed their IDs to the bouncer and were let inside. The club was crowded. Dick led the way to the bar, getting two sober colas for himself and Wally. Wally took a sip of his drink and turned to look at the band as they warmed up.

Wally spit out his cola all over a few passing women. They gasped, glaring at him in disgust. “Walls, what the hell?” Dick exclaimed, flashing a smile at the women. They instantly didn’t seem so upset anymore. However, Wally’s eyes were on the stage. His heart pounding so hard, it threatened to burst from his chest.

“It’s her,” he whispered to Dick. His hand shook so bad, his cola was spilling on the floor. Dick took it from him and set it back on the bar. The bartender stared at the mess on the floor.

“Who?” Dick followed Wally’s gaze to the stage. “Which one?” 

The singer took the mike. “Hello music lovers, are you ready for Laugh Track?” they shouted. The crowd screamed in response. Wally’s eyes stayed on you as you beat the tempo of the song on your drum set before the rest of the band joined in.

“She’s the drummer.” Wally raised his voice, not taking his eyes off you. Dick chuckled, shaking his head. Wally saw how skillful you were on the drums. He moved closer to the stage. Dick followed him, wanting a closer look himself. 

Your face was a mask of intense concentration. Wally loved how confidently you played. The little smirk you got when you did your drum solo. Wally’s knees shook. He almost crumbled at the sight. In that instant, he knew you would rarely leave his thoughts again. 

“Dude, you’re drooling.” Dick pulled Wally over to sit down at an empty table. Most of the crowd was on their feet, dancing and cheering for the band. Wally still didn’t take his eyes off you. You glanced up and met his eyes for a second. Time froze, the last note of the sound hung in the air. A real smile pulled at your lips. Wally grinned back at you.

Suddenly, time sped back up. The crowd was cheering loudly as you looked away from Wally. Wally moved to go to you, but Dick grabbed his arm. “Walls, you can’t go up there.” The band started their next song.

“But...” Wally looked back at you to find you focused back on the music, drumming away expertly. “Oh my god, she looked me! She smiled at me!”

Dick shook his head. “You’re hopeless,” he sighed as Wally focused back on you. However, Dick sensed he wasn’t done hearing about you for a long time.

***

“This sucks,” Wally groaned, collapsing on the floor of Roy Harper’s new house. The original team had come by to help him move in. Artemis stepped over him. 

“You aren’t even doing anything.” Artemis rolled her eyes at him, box in hand. 

Roy set baby Lian on Wally’s chest. “Hold the baby if you aren’t going to help.” He went back out to grab more boxes. 

Kaldur and Conner came in with an armchair. “Wallace, we will step on you,” Kaldur warned . Wally sighed, scooting out of the way. Lian giggled happily, thinking it was a game. 

“I haven’t been able to find her.” Wally looked at Lian who smiled at him sweetly. “I’ve looked up her band, Laugh Track, and all I found was a website for merch.” 

“Oh, that’s why you’re wearing that.” Conner snorted, nodding at Wally’s bright colored shirt with Laugh Track spray painted across the front. 

Wally glared at him. “I think it’s romantic,” M’gann said as she floated some boxes down the hallway toward the bedrooms. 

“Or it’s creepy. You realize she’s probably going to think you’re a stalker or something.” Artemis smiled when Wally turned his glare onto her. Lian reached up to grab Wally’s bottom lip. 

Dick and Roy came in with a coffee table. “I didn’t expect Ollie to buy me so much furniture for a housewarming gift,” Roy said as they set it down against the wall so it would be out of the way. Lian saw Roy and got excited enough to wet her diaper. 

“Roy, she needs you.” Wally held her out, wrinkling his nose. 

“You’re useless,” Roy said, coming over to take Lian and going to the bathroom to change her. 

Wally groaned, bringing his knees to his chest. “I found the house where I first saw her this morning, but she’s not there anymore. I think they were renting it.” 

Dick laughed, sitting down on the armchair Conner and Kaldur just brought in. “You know I could help you find her?” Dick jumped when Wally suddenly appeared beside him.

“Really? You will?!” His body vibrated in excitement. “Because that would be crash, dude!” 

“Impulse rubbing off on him,” Conner grumbled to M’gann. M’gann kissed Conner’s cheek.

Kaldur chuckled. “Why did you wait until now to offer your assistance?” He sat down on the coffee table. Artemis came up to offer him a water bottle.

Dick snorted. “I wanted to see how long it would take him to ask.” 

“Oh, thanks for waiting, Dick, so we could all hear Wally whine and complain,” Artemis said, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re welcome.” Dick smirked at her, earning a sharp punch in the arm from Artemis. Wally sat back on the floor, lost in his excitement at finally being able to meet you as Wally West. Who cared if you didn’t know who Kid Flash was? It wasn’t like you couldn’t learn. 

“What the hell is this? I go change Lian’s diaper and you all stop.” Roy came out of the bathroom with blazing eyes. Lian laughed. Her cuteness threw off his threatening appearance. “We’re renting that moving truck by the hour.” 

“I thought Green Arrow was paying for it,” Conner said. 

Roy froze as if he suddenly remembered that little fact. “Well, in that case.” He sat down next to Kaldur and handed Lian over to M’gann. “What’s the gossip? Is Wally going bald?” 

“Hey!” Wally grabbed a throw pillow from one of the boxes and threw it at Roy’s head. “I have all my hair, thank you very much. It’s you that getting a dad bod.” More pillows were thrown, and for a day, it was almost like old times back during the first year of the team.

*** 

You sighed, picking up your book as you sat on your stool behind the drum set. The singer and the bassist were arguing again. The bassist had written a new song, and the singer was adding their own flare to it. It was a mess as usual. The keyboardist laid down to take a nap on the floor while the guitarist went outside for a smoke break.  

About a chapter or two later, they finally came to an agreement. You put your bookmark in, and picked up your drumsticks. The new song was interesting to say the least.

The club wasn’t open yet. Only the bartender and the manager were there, preparing for the night. The band decided to practice while you could since you were all playing this club for the week. It was a chance to try something new and see how the crowd responds, your manager said.

Speaking of your manager, they burst through the stage door like their pants were on fire. “Hold the practice. You need to save your energy for tonight. We got some record companies coming to listen.” 

You sighed as the band stopped mid song. “Oh my god, I have to go get my hair done,” the singer cried, knocking over their mike and going on their phone to find the closest hair salon. The keyboardist just laid back down on the floor, while the guitarist went back out for another smoke break. The bassist ran up to your manager, chatting away. 

Putting your book and drumsticks in your bag, you got up to leave. A cup of coffee would be good. You didn’t get a lot of sleep last night due to sharing a room with the guitarist who snored like a fog horn. 

You left out of the club’s back door and used your phone to find the nearest coffee shop. “Where are you going?” the guitarist asked, blowing smoke into your path. You wrinkled your nose, walking through it.

“I’m going for some coffee. Want some?” You stopped a little ways away to avoid breathing in the cigarette smoke. 

“Yeah, you know what I like.” They took out their wallet and handed you a ten. “Bring me a snack too, will ya?” 

“Sure.” You took the ten and stuffed it in your pocket. “Don’t tell everyone else. I don’t want to get five coffees again.” 

They snorted. “Yeah, I still haven’t gotten the coffee stain off my shirt yet.” The blood rushed to your face, but you laughed it off and walked out of the alley to the street.

Luckily, you found a coffee shop two blocks away. You ordered your drink first and sat down to read your book in one of the cozy armchairs. Your drink sat on the table next to you. Time slipped away from you before you heard the table fall. You jumped, protecting your book as your coffee crashed to the floor. It splashed everything. “What the hell?” 

“Sorry.” A familiar looking red headed man quickly grabbed napkins to mop up some of the mess. “I’m such a klutz.” 

“It’s okay.” A employee came over with a mop and a wash cloth. The man turned to you. Your eyes went to his t-shirt, remembering the design your band had picked out for it. “Oh, are you a fan of Laugh Track?” 

He blushed. “Yeah, I heard them play a few weeks ago, and I couldn’t get their music out of my head.” He held out his hand. “My name is Wally.” 

“(Y/N).” You gave him a tight smile and shook his hand. It felt familiar, but you didn’t know how.  “I guess I better get another coffee.”

“Oh no, I’ll buy it for you. It’s my fault.” Wally smiled and suddenly you lost yourself in his green eyes for a moment. “What’s your poison?”

You laughed, getting up with your book and bag in hand. “How about I order it while you pay?” The two of you went to the counter, chatting away like you knew each other for your entire lives. 

Meanwhile, Dick and Barbara watched from a small table in the corner. “I can’t believe he purposely spilled her coffee. That’s a sin,” Barbara whispered, giggling away.

“I know, but it broke the ice didn’t it?” Dick took a sip of Barbara’s coffee. She glared at him, but he flashed her a charming smile and the glare faded away.

“At least she didn’t think he was a stalker.” Barbara snorted, stealing a sip of Dick’s coffee in retaliation. 

“Artemis will be upset about that. She bet me twenty that Wally would get punched in the face.” Dick and Barbara watched as you and Wally sat back down with fresh coffee. Wally looked happier than he had been in a long time. Dick smiled before he turned his full attention to Barbara.

[koushisbabie]

Shibari (with Suga)

so I was sat there, innocently reading some cute Japanese terms, when I came across shibari... and honestly my head was like no thoughts just Suga and pretty rope

anyway here’s a one shot of just that, enjoy.

pairing: Suga x gn!reader (I tried my best!)

word count: 1.6k

‘You okay, baby?’ Suga murmured. He breathed in against the dip in your collarbone, stroking the stray hairs behind your ear.

‘You’re distracting me.’ You said pointedly.

‘By doing this?’ He spoke in between kisses against your neck, then upon hearing you hum in response, placed a gentle one to your temple. He reclined back into the cushions and turned back to the screen, his eyes reflecting the show he’d long lost interest in. ‘Sorry, kitten.’

You nudged his arm playfully. Suga gave you a silly grin and you couldn’t help but return his cheerfulness with a soft laugh. ‘I’m not saying stop...’

The mischievous glint returned to his lovely eyes and, had they always been that pretty?  

‘If you say so.’ He snaked his hand under the blankets that were draped messily around the two of you and smoothed over your thigh. Shivers sent up your spine, despite the room seemingly growing in temperature.

‘Koushi, should we at least turn off the show?’ You raised your eyebrows suggestively. Suga’s smile grew at the use of his first name, a sign of deep intimacy that he didn’t allow with many others. Turning to the screen, he paused and closed the show.

‘Better? Would you prefer music, or the sounds of you and I?’ He winked. ‘Oh, that shade of blush looks delicious on you.’

‘Delicious?’ You chuckled. ‘That’s a new one. Music.’

Suga moved underneath the blankets and settled on his stomach in between your unclothed legs. He looked up at you innocently, placing his chin on his hands over your ribs. ‘I’m trying to spice things up; did you like it?’

‘Hmm...’ the heated blush grew deeper with the memories of other things you had tried before, ‘what else did you have in mind?’

Suga smiled gently and touched his forehead to yours. His voice was low. ‘I may have ordered some special rope.’

‘Rope?’ Your eyes flew open and met with his still closed ones. Were his eyelashes always that long? Why aren't mine like that... ‘You mean, bondage rope?’

It was Suga’s turn to blush this time, the delicate pink dusting his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. You placed a kiss on his forehead.

‘Ever heard of shibari?’ He asked tentatively, looking up at you through his eyelashes. ‘It’s a type of traditional Japanese bondage. It’s quite... artistic, actually...’ He trailed off, his gaze trying to gauge your reaction.

‘I’ve heard of it, but never tried it,’ you said thoughtfully. ‘Have you?’

‘No, but I've tried practicing tying some knots.’ Suga played with the ends of your hair, twisting strands around and between his slender fingers. ‘Want to see?’

The smile on his lips turned into something devious, all innocence dissipating. The shivers erupted in goosebumps shooting across your skin and for a second you were sure he could feel the sparks too.

This was how he was – the cheerful, gentle person that strove to be recognized as something good, someone useful – he was pure and yet had introduced to you every impure act you’d participated in in the bedroom. Well, and every other room in the house.

‘You’re going to be the death of me, Koushi.’ Drawing him closer, you pressed to him a kiss that quickly grew more heated.

‘Is that a yes? Or a no?’ He murmured into your mouth.  

‘Mm, okay.’ You smiled as you began to bunch up his shirt and pull it over his head, tickling his bare skin with your knuckles. ‘Only if you teach me what to do.’

‘S’my pleasure.’ Suga smiled, cupping your cheek.

He lifted himself off you and dug around in the drawer next to the bed. He extracted a fabric pouch and tipping it upside down, he procured a thick bundle of relatively delicate looking silver ropes.

‘They look lovely. Matches your hair!’ You pointed out.

‘I thought you’d like that tiny detail,’ he smiled. ‘Now, kitten, turn over.’

The shivers returned tenfold. ‘R-right now?’

‘Oh, I suppose you should remove your clothes...’ A sheepish glance followed as he placed the rope bundle on the bedside table and leant over to kiss you. Gently he pushed his hands up your stomach, sliding your shirt up slowly but before you could complain internally about how he was taking his sweet time; you were completely laid bare to him. ‘And there you are – beautiful.’

Breathless, was the only word you thought could describe how you felt as Suga rolled you onto your stomach and began to place kisses down your spine. Attempting to push yourself up on your elbows, you steal a glance over your shoulder at him, only to have him look up at you with an intense gaze that softened ever so slightly upon eye contact. Bowing his head, he kissed the sides of your hip, leaving the remnants of his open mouth to cool against your skin.

‘Should I try the rope now?’ He asked somewhat timidly, though you knew he was doing all he could to limit the excitement in his voice.

You nod and give him a sultry smile, or what you hoped was sultry. The twitch in his mouth revealed to you just how delicious he thought the exchange was.

‘I’ll need to put this under your tummy first...’ Suga straightened, taking the rope in both hands, smoothing it out, and beginning to reach under you, ‘and then bring it here, with this part...’

‘It’s softer than I thought it would be...’ You began as the rope tightened across your chest and over your shoulders.

‘They’re not intended to cause you a lot of pain,’ Suga placed a kiss to the nape of your neck, before drawing both your arms up and wrapping your wrists. His slender hands made quick work of the intricate ties, weaving and tightening until a gorgeous botanic-esque design laced your skin.

The tying went on for what seemed like eternity but was likely a few minutes. The only sounds that occupied the room were the quiet lo-fi tunes and your steady breathing that hitched whenever Suga brushed his knuckles against the insides of your open thighs, which was often. He smoothed his palms over your hips, drawing you to arch your back for him, thinking maybe he was finally going to touch you, before he drew back, and the cool air met your naked skin again.

The hitching of your breath was accompanied by Suga’s quiet hum, the pleasant sound that indicated he was enjoying himself. His fingers were soft and busy, and the anticipation began to grow worse with each passing second. You knew he was trying his hardest not to touch you on purpose.

How cruel, you thought to yourself as a tiny huff of annoyance escaped your lips.

‘What was that, baby?’

His voice startled you.  

‘N-nothing.’

Then he was right next to your free ear, the one that wasn’t pressed against the cool satin pillow. Suga was leaning over you, expertly avoiding touching your arms that were tied up behind your back. You felt his hand brush the side of your neck, his eyes trailing it as he made his way slowly down your spine, tracing absent shapes into your skin, until he reached the insides of your thighs again. He knew what he was doing – the damn tease – as he traced the softness of your skin closer and closer to the heat that pulsed incessantly.

Is he finally going to touch me? You thought as a tiny whimper escaped your lips. Suga paused momentarily, meeting your gaze again.

‘Are you okay?’ He asked, genuine concern laced his voice. ‘Did I tie it too tight?’

Looking at him with pleading eyes, you murmured. ‘Please, touch me.’

‘Oh, is that all?’ Suga smiled deviously, leaning in closer to your ear. ‘Say it again, kitten.’

You could feel the surprise tugging your eyes. ‘Are you going to make me beg?’

‘I just want to hear it one more time, you know how I love that pretty voice of yours.’

You swallowed, not having realized just how hungry you were for him. The anticipation grinding at your limbs, the tightly bound rope was fixed comfortably around your wrists and over your shoulders, down your stomach, around your thighs, leaving various parts of you exposed and vulnerable. Parts of you that only Suga could see and even then, it wasn’t like you were dressed up in rope every day – this was an entirely new feeling. The feeling of utter powerlessness, a complete trust in the one person you didn’t want to hide a single thing from.

A hand caressed the side of your face, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. Suga’s expression now quite concerned, presumably due to your lack of response. ‘Hey, are you sure you’re okay? We can stop, just tell me when.’

You looked at him with what you hoped was a sexy expression and not something of cluelessness and desperation. ‘Koushi, please,’ you said in a tiny voice, pouting for extra emphasis, ‘I want you to fuck me.’

Suga’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before straightening to gaze at his masterpiece and you could feel the intensity trailing over your skin, the pulsing in your lower belly growing more urgent. He placed his hand between your thighs but before you could relish in the sweet contact you had long been anticipating, he drew it back, scrutinizing the glistening left on his fingers. You watched over your shoulder as he sighed contently before undressing and climbing onto the bed to place another kiss to your temple.  

As he met your gaze with adoring eyes and a soft smile, the fraction of him that was pure shone in the lamplight and for a second you were convinced he was an angel, though what followed sure showed you otherwise.