#the way i nearly wrote 3k words about this...

[notjustjavierpena]

Heat

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Many many moons ago (this might be an exaggeration), I wrote a direct message to @undercoverpena about one of her text posts that sent me into a horny spiral. I loved it. You can read the text post here. At lot happened since then, and I bet you all that she must have forgotten or thought I would not finish it, but alas I return from the dead.

Summary: Javier looks so delicious doing hard work under the sun. The kids aren’t home. Heat is not just what the sun gives, it can also be a state of your body.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, clit stim, piv sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, creampie, rough sex, javi p is sweaty and you are horny

Word count: 3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51636391

Heat

It’s a thousand degrees outside.

It’s the beginning of autumn and it’s boiling hot, so warm that one cannot fully enjoy the weather when it makes everything feel crispier. You’ll be damned if you are going to spend the sparse and sacred hours of being childfree inside your house with a pout though, because your father-in-law has the kids after a long period of him being unable to babysit.

One would think that now that your three children are in Abuelo Chucho’s hands, it would mean having a long-awaited, as well as well-deserved, date night with your husband, but Javier has decided to spend the day renovating the back porch in the heat. You haven’t rolled your eyes at him yet, but the urge has been there several times.

You sit on the porch swing, dangling your feet just above the wooden boards that are soon to be removed and replaced. There’s a glass of cold lemonade in your hand, a bee buzzing somewhere nearby. 

Javier is in the shed at the back of the garden. You can hear him move things around, occasionally letting out a swear word moments after something clatters to the floor with a loud bang. 

You sip your lemonade through its straw. The honey bee has found the bush of lavender, and you let your eyes close to listen to the sounds of late summer, the start of fall. The sun dances on your lids, sweat forms at the small of your back just above your shorts and right below your cropped t-shirt.

After a few minutes where you’ve leaned back into the backrest of the porch swing, and nearly fallen asleep, you hear Javier returning. Automatically, your eyes open at hearing him speak. 

“Hey, enjoying yourself?” He has come over to peck your lips. You allow it, holding up the glass of lemonade afterward to watch his lips close around the straw. He takes a long sip whilst his eyes are fixed on yours.

“Gotta stay hydrated if you want to work in this heat,” you note.

“Just gonna be all pretty sitting there and watching me?” He asks after swallowing, and you have to force yourself to look away from the way his Adam's Apple bobs.

“Mh-hm,” you nod without saying much, knowing you’ll break if you try to get an actual sentence out.

“Alright,” he just replies, and you swear you catch some sort of undertone in his voice. He kisses you again, lingering a second too long for you to be indifferent towards it, and then stretches again. A less collected version of you wants to undo his belt right there, but you let him go instead. Not without regret though.

And then he starts working, dragging planks across the soon-naked porch deck, and you start sweating even more at the sight. Even moreso at the grunts he elicits during his labor.

Javier is beautiful underneath the burning sun, sweat-slicked chest hair peeking out from under his grayish shirt that he has unbuttoned at the top. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows because they cannot go up any further than that, tightening around the beginnings of his biceps and causing your head to swim when you think about those arms around you. 

You allow yourself to ogle him as he is lost in the task. The straw in your lemonade sits in your mouth, your tongue curling around it briefly before you sip to clench your thirst. There’s sweat collecting on Javier’s brow, threatening to drip down, and when it finally does slide down the side of his head, your eyes burn from refraining from blinking as you watch the beads roll down his neck and into the clavicle of it. You press your thighs together.

The gray shirt has darkened in color around his shoulders due to dampness. Whenever Javier turns his back to you, you can see the darker patch has reached his lower back too. Your tongue darts out to lick at nothing around your mouth, and you know that your husband would laugh at you if he saw it.

There’s something dirty about watching the way he brushes slick hair from his forehead. He has knelt down on the deck by now, occasionally on all fours when he reaches for something in front of himself, and when he gets really concentrated, straining his back muscles so much that the shirt starts fighting for its life, he pulls a face that nearly makes you fall off the porch swing. 

You bite your lip, choose your words but none seems to do the job so you settle for something more simple, “Javi.”

“Sí, mi amor?” Javier doesn’t look up. 

You remind yourself that he has talked about redoing the porch since his father agreed to take the kids. You won’t spoil it for him, and you know that a half-finished project with three kids is not an ideal situation for you, so you compose yourself.

“I think I need to get out of the sun for a bit, can I get you some water?” You ask instead of getting on your knees to beg - or more - and then you walk past him. 

“Sure,” he replies as you pass him, and it makes you unable to see the smirk on his face, “Water would be great. Thanks, honey.”

Inside the kitchen, you fill a glass with cold water from the refrigerator. You even get a few ice cubes from the tray in your freezer but instead of dumping them into your husband’s drink, you hold them against your chest with a sigh of relief. Something burns in the pit of your stomach, even more when you return to the porch and hand Javier the glass of water. He hasn’t gotten less enticing; shirt clinging to him, hair sticking to his forehead, a groan as he gets up from the floor.

“Should be done by tomorrow,” he says as he takes the glass from your hand, causing a bolt of electricity to shoot down your spine as your fingers brush. It’s ridiculous since both of you know that he is yours already. 

“Mm-hm,” you watch him gulp down nearly all of his drink. 

And then he does something that you might never recover from; he pours the remaining water over himself in an attempt to cool down. It wets his hair even more, and he runs his thick fingers through it to shake out the excess droplets. 

Time stands still. Your heart hammers in your chest, pulse traveling through your veins until you can feel the throbbing of each heartbeat between your legs. You press your thighs together and let out a whimper of breath. 

“Baby?” You say softly to earn a hm? It feels shameful to meet Javier’s eyes. However when you do, you notice his pupils have dilated in desire, gaze flickering down your body for the shortest time, and you choose to strike. 

You step into Javier’s personal space, hand reaching up to lie on his chest. The soft pads of your fingers rest on his skin where his buttons are undone, and you try to keep a doe-eyed look on your face as you rub his exposed skin gently.

“I was thinking,” you start, trail off.

“Yes?” He drags the word out. You can hear the smirk on his face but it feels too vulnerable to look him in the eye.

“Since we’re alone,” you continue, gaze fixated on the chest hair that is exposed in the heat, “And since there’s air conditioning inside, we could do something together.”

“Do what?” He says like someone who has figured you out. His strong hand comes up to wrap around your wrist, lifting your palm to his mouth. He kisses it. 

Your face burns with embarrassment at the fact that you can barely contain yourself in his presence. That and the fact that it is usually so easy, so why does it feel so difficult to ask for what you want? 

“You know what.”

“I need you to say it, need you to ask for it, mi vida,” he teases and places your hand on the side of his face. He releases a breath at your touch, eyes fluttering closed so you feel brave enough to look up at his face. He leans further into you and looks as ready as you to give in. 

“I need you to touch me,” your voice trembles. Javier just barely shudders at hearing your words, opening his eyes once more to reveal their darkened color. 

“Touch you where?” Javier continues his little game. He mirrors you, touches your face too, “Here?”

“No.”

His hand moves down to brush your neck, “Here then? It must be here.”

“No,” you shake your head, “Please, Javi.”

Javier’s hand slides down your front and settles on the exposed skin of your belly. It causes you to hold your breath. Then it goes down, slips past the elastic band of your shorts and into your damp underwear. You gasp as two of his fingers slide through the wetness between your legs, tips finding your pulsing clit immediately after. Thank God you have hedges around the back garden and thank God that they’re tall enough to keep prying eyes away from the scene that unfolds. 

“What about here? I hope it’s here because I don’t want to stop,” he rubs you off slowly until your legs start to shake underneath you. He works his fingers back and forth, from side to side, one on either side of your clit and something builds and builds and—

You come with a little cry and bury your face in Javier’s chest. Your hand on the side of his face falls down to his shoulder which you grip as you soak your underwear even more, thighs trapping his hand as they clamp together. As your head spins, Javier chuckles out a swear word above you. 

“Never gets old,” he adds and you start giggling. 

After a few seconds of letting you breathe, Javier cups your face and lifts your lips to his own in a kiss that tells you everything you need to know, where you’re heading, which direction. You kiss him back slowly and he licks the inside of your mouth, guides you toward the screen door that leads inside of the house. He has you, you want to say, body and soul. 

“Let me take my beautiful wife to bed,” he begs and you nod repeatedly, mumbling a soft plea. He peppers you with sweet kisses that turn more heated as you get closer to the bedroom door. He toes off his shoes on the way, leaving them forgotten in the hallway along with pieces of clothing that he sheds you and himself of. 

When you’re both naked, sticking together from the sweat that is already shining on your skin, he hoists you up and carries you to the bed effortlessly. You cling to him by wrapping your limbs around his body, and he kneels down on the bed and places you on your back - and then he doesn’t leave but instead melts into you.

“Te deseo mucho, mi amor,” he murmurs and crushes you so heavenly with his weight, connecting his lips to your throat and sucking a purple mark onto your skin. You’ll scold him for it later but right now, you simply whine. His voice vibrates against your neck, “You really thought all I was gonna do was redo the stupid porch? Not do you?”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you bite back with no real hostility, first snorting at his choice of words and then letting out a sigh as he continues tasting your salty skin, “I was ready to go insane, so please fuck me.”

“Dramatic as ever,” he teases and then holds himself up with one arm so he can reach down between your bodies. You bend your legs and let your knees fall out to the sides, breath hitching until it becomes a whimper when the head of Javier’s cock slides through your folds. 

“Please,” you say, and have never been so willing. His cockhead catches on your clit, and your moan comes out a lot louder than intended. You are just about to cover your mouth with your hand when you realize you don’t have to; you can cry and whine and scream all you want to. It makes you yearn for him in a newfound sense and makes you want to scream already. 

“Paciencia, mi amor,” he tuts but still reads your mind. He enters you a moment later, pushing inside easily from the slick that’s already smearing your inner thighs. He groans as you take him, eyes intensely focused on yours whilst stretching your pussy open in a delicious sting. Your hands find his broad shoulders instead of their usual place clamped down on your mouth. You let yourself be noisy as you adjust.

“That’s it,” he slurs, “Be noisy all you want. Good girl.”

When he pulls out and eases back in, the two of you moan in unison. He does it again but follows it up with a breathless laugh when your noises already climb in pitch. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he says soothingly as if you’ve hurt yourself.

But then he shows no mercy and speeds up. His rhythm becomes something else entirely; hard and fast, sending the eyes in your head rolling backward into your skull with a f-fuck dripping from your lips.

Everything is so different. Usually, you breathe so deeply into each other’s bodies, connecting your lips whenever the other is about to give away what the two of you are doing to the rest of the house. Your noses will bump against each other as you are impossibly close to one another, an occasional h-ah escaping your mouth or a low grunt from Javier’s, and if not even a kiss can cover up the noises, Javier’s strong hand or your own will cover your mouth as you cry through the most intense orgasms a man has ever given you.

But now. Oh God. Javier is making you sing until the house is shaking, every noise bouncing off the walls to ricochet right back to your ears. You can hear yourself sound obscene as he makes you come a second time, wanton moans falling from your slack mouth. You tremble, thighs jiggling along his sides as he drives his cock into you to prolong your pleasure. 

“There you are, Christ, you are perfect,” he praises, continues to pound your oversensitive cunt, “Let it all out, baby.”

“More,” you beg, “Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he grunts. 

You reach down between your legs as best as you can, already thinking of a third orgasm now that your clit is untouched. If not only to shout yourself hoarse.

Javier traps you between his arms, propping himself up on his forearms and sliding his fingers into your hair. He tugs slightly as he rolls his hips, pain erupting from your sensitive follicles and adding to your third high that is building. 

You circle your clit fast, barely able to contain yourself as your cunt goes off into delicious spasm. You think you might actually start crying with how intense it feels, Javier’s cock twitching inside of you whilst he moans too. He buries his face in your shoulder.

“Don’t pull out,” you gasp up at the ceiling, nails creating little crescent marks on the muscles of his broad shoulder, “Javi, oh fuck, come in me. Don’t pull out. Pleasepleaseplease.”

The comment makes Javier pull back a little, raising himself on his elbow to look down at you. His fingers are still in your hair, an occasional moan tumbles out of his mouth as he continues reaching deep inside of you, and his eyes bore into yours. He furrows his brow from being so close, barely able to speak from how ragged his breathing is.

“What—?” He grunts. Any moment now.

“Not ovulating,” you moan back at him, tightening your legs around his waist to punctuate your want, your need. You try meeting his every thrust to encourage his own high, “Please, baby. Need you to come in me.”

“Mierda, estas una chica sucia,” his hips stutter, “You love getting filled to the brim, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically. 

“Just want me to keep knocking your sweet cunt up, huh?” He moans. 

“Yes. Whole fucking football team.”

“C’mere,” he catches your mouth in a heated kiss, nodding slightly, but it turns messy as soon as he gets to orgasm. He whimpers into your mouth when he is just on the brink, and then he gasps as the first rope of come starts to fill you. You let out a big sigh against his mouth for show, taking everything he has to give you whilst he shudders in your arms. 

It takes a moment to calm down. Your arms rest beside your head and your eyes close, trying to calm your heavy breathing. Above you, Javier hisses when he pulls out of you and you can immediately feel his come dripping out of you. 

Javier kisses your exposed chest. He slides his hands up your forearms to eventually hold each of your hands, flopping down onto you again. 

“Ice water,” you say after a while of laying together like this. 

“Hm?” He squeezes your hands.

“Go get some ice water, your wife is boiling.”

“Fine,” he groans. 

When he comes back, he has also brought a towel and you spend the rest of the afternoon trailing ice cubes across your warm skin after cleaning yourself up. It’ll be easier to work in the colder evening sun anyway.

.

.

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[babydollmarauders]

OH CHRISTMAS TREE — JAMIE DRYSDALE

jamie drysdale x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n is decorating the christmas tree with her best friend and comes to terms with some deeper feelings

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, fingering, p in v, praise, dirty talk, i think that’s all?. (3k words)

notes: welcome to day 3 of the 12 days of kinkmas! please enjoy some soft friends-to-lovers with JD!

p.s. i wrote this prior to us learning that Jamie and Trevor no longer live together, so let’s just pretend they still do for the sake of the fic

“do you think Trevor is gonna come home tonight?”

my best friend shakes his head at my question, handing me another ornament from the brand new package we bought at the store today.

“definitely not.” he chuckles, “when he goes over to her house for a hang out, he never comes back until the next day.”

Jamie uses air quotations around the words ‘hang out’, which makes me cringe, squeezing my eyes shut as though it’ll help clear my thoughts of Trevor having sex.

“oh, i did not need to imagine that.” he cackles when he sees my horrified expression, nearly doubling over in laughter.

my hand finds its way to his shoulder, slapping against his hoodie covered body.

“you asked!” he shrugs, “i didn’t think you’d picture it!”

“my mind wanders!” i defend myself, elbowing him in the arm as he stands completely upright again. “just gimme the last ornament.”

he finally sobers up, handing me the final ornament and allowing me to hang it on the tree before we step back to survey it.

“we still need to do the topper.” he concludes and i nod, stepping over to the plastic bags on the coffee table.

i rummage through them, my hunt ending when i finally spot the sparkly tree topper. walking over, i strain onto my tiptoes, flexing my arm as far as i can reach to try and place the decoration, but i still come up short.

“let me help.” Jamie gruffs, and i drop back down onto flat feet, expecting him to place the topper himself.

but instead, he stands behind me, his hands coming up to grip my jean clad hips, and lifts me up. taking me by surprise, i quickly place the topper on the christmas tree.

“is it straight?” i ask, peering down in await of his approval, just in time to watch him drag his eyes away from my ass.

was he checking me out?

“yeah, looks good.” i have to bite my lip to stifle a laugh, my mind immediately drifting, wondering if he was talking about the tree or my butt.

he slowly lowers me, my body sliding through his loosened grasp, and as my feet begin to reach the floor, his hands slip up the hem of my sweater. his chilled touch against the heated skin of my abdomen sending goosebumps along my body, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

Jamie tenses, his hands lingering even after my feet are flat against the hardwood, and a light shiver wracks my body.

i like it.

i mean, i know i’ve always tiptoed the line between platonic and romantic feelings with Jamie. even when we first met, i had hoped we would be something more. but then we became best friends, and i never thought there was any chance of us becoming anything else. so i locked those feelings away, living in quiet delusion that they never existed. but now i’m forced to face them again; forced to come to terms with the fact that they’re still there, and i still want more with him.

i turn my head, glancing over my shoulder and locking eyes with my best friend. and suddenly, it’s like i can see into his mind, reading him like an open book.

he likes it too.

i blink and all too quickly, Jamie is dropping his hands, stepping back hurriedly.

“sorry.” he mutters, casting me a small yet forced smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

i turn to face him, fighting the urge to pull him back to me.

“there’s no need to apologize.” i can only hope that i’m accurately conveying my underlying feelings. that he understands that i mean my words and also that they hold a deeper meaning than just dismissing his apology.

“there’s not?” his eyebrow raises, his hand flexing in front of him as though in a mental battle with himself; whether or not he should touch me again.

my head shakes slowly and i step closer, gazing up through my lashes to meet his eyes. my hand wraps around his wrist, scanning his face to gauge his reactions and emotions as i guide his touch back underneath my sweater and onto my waist.

his fingertips lightly skim my flesh, his sight cautiously flickering between my eyes and my lips. he must find what he’s searching for, because within a moment, his palm is pressed flat to my body, his fingers curling around my waist as he draws me even closer to him. our bodies are mere inches away from each other now, toeing the line between friendly and loving.

“do you…?” he trails off but he doesn’t have to finish his sentence in order for me to understand his meaning. i hum in agreement.

“do you…?” i repeat, my vocal inflection rising as i trail off; a question of my own, not ready to make the final jump unless i know for sure.

Jamie groans, finally pulling me flush against him, “god, yes.”

my best friend wastes no time in crashing his lips upon mine, his free hand tangling in my hair to tilt my head back.

a quiet moan travels up my throat, blocked by our locked lips which leave no choice but to vibrate against them.

he pulls away just slightly and i instinctively chase after him for a second.

“how long have you felt this way?” he whispers against me, simultaneously walking backwards, pulling me with him until my knees are resting on either side of him on the couch.

“since we met.” my confession is breathy and rushed, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. “i thought i would get over it- that you didn’t see me like that.”

“fuck, i saw you like that.” he sounds pained, his grip tightening on my hips to keep me in place as i attempt to roll them against his. “of course i saw you like that.

“you’re beautiful, and smart, and kind. fuck, how could i not see you as more when you’re literally my dream girl? i never wanted to be just friends with you.”

i whimper at his words as he connects his mouth to my neck, pressing a trail of open mouthed kisses from my collarbone to my jawline.

“the amount of time we’ve wasted-” i’m cut off as he rolls his hips up to meet mine, a broken moan drawn from my lips at the feeling.

“shhh, don’t think about that.” he mutters against my skin, “we know now.”

his grip on my hips loosens as he guides them down to meet his. his lips finally meet mine again, suckling on my bottom lip as i sigh in pleasure.

“bed.” i huff as he pulls away. “let’s go to your bed.”

his arms encircle my waist, holding me to him as he rises to his feet, allowing me to lock my legs around him.

he’s efficient in making his way to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind us and dropping me onto his mattress.

“are you sure?” his blue eyes gaze into mine; swimming with concern.

i nod frantically, my fingers coiling through his belt loops to tug him back to me, “absolutely.”

he whines lowly, cupping my face gingerly with his hands.

“you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted this.”

he bends forward to kiss my lips, kneeling down on the bed between my spread legs.

the kiss quickly develops back into something lustful and intense, my hands shaking with pent up desire as they clutch at the hem of his shirt. i play with it, subtly letting him know that i want it off, but he just chuckles against my lips.

“use your words, pretty girl.”

i mewl at his remark and the way his swollen lips brush against mine.

“off, please.” i whisper through panted breaths. “i don’t want anything between us.”

he backs away, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his sweatshirt over his head, drawing the t-shirt underneath with it. i bite at the inside of my bottom lip, taking the chance to memorize every detail of his torso.

every freckle, every curve, every hair or birthmark being lasered into my brain.

he’s so perfect.

his nimble fingers drop to the button of his jeans, unfastening them and pulling them down until he’s left in nothing but his boxer briefs. his half-hardened cock bulges through his boxers, and the sight has me grinding down into the mattress.

he’s gonna ruin me.

“your turn, sweetheart.” he gives me barely any chance to do the work myself, his hands pulling my sweater over my head.

i push my staticky hair over my shoulder, lifting my hips and allowing him to pull my jeans off of my legs.

i’m sat clad in a black bra and mismatch panties, but under his gaze, i find no reason to be embarrassed that i’m not wearing something sexier.

“beautiful.” he murmurs, as though not telling me, but acknowledging it to himself.

i scoot further up the mattress, allowing him the space to crawl to me. his hands and knees sink into the soft surface as he comes to hover above me, capturing my lips with his.

one hand steadies himself as the other explores my body, grazing over my breasts as it runs down my chest. my body shudders in response and i can feel him smirk into the kiss, his thumb rubbing over the padding that covers my peaked nipples.

i yearn to feel his skin against mine, the heat of our bodies mingling; pushing me to arch my back as i slide my hands underneath to unclasp my bra.

he draws back as i slide the straps down my arms before flinging the garment onto the floor.

my nipples pebble against the frigid air, goosebumps littering my body, and i breathe heavily under Jamie’s stare, mentally urging him to do something.

“you’re fucking perfect.” he growls, dipping down to latch onto my breast. his lips close around the stiffened bud, his warm tongue circling as he sucks, and a cry of pleasure echoes off the walls as my head tips back, burrowing further into the pillow behind me.

“Jamie.” my back arches toward him, desperate underneath his touch.

he pulls away with a wet pop, kissing across my sternum and over to the other side while his fingers come to pinch and pull at the nipple he just abandoned.

“i need you.” i breathe out, voice cracking as my hands bury into his hair, pulling him back up to look at me.

“yeah?” he teases. his touch slides down my abdomen until he reaches to waistband of my panties, and as soon as i nod in permission, his fingers are slipping past the elastic band; dipping low into my wetness.

my eyes roll back as he glides his middle finger through my folds, using my slick as lubricant to circle my swollen clit.

“so wet for me.” he groans, his face burying in my neck as his lip find their place against my throat once more. “i could slide into you right now, don’t even need any foreplay.”

i moan, my hips rolling against him as he slips one finger into me, his thumb replacing to continue the contact against my clit.

“but i’m still gonna make you come on my fingers.” he states, curling the finger inside me to push against the spongey spot that makes my toes curl. “then i’m gonna make you scream on my cock. gonna fuck you like you deserve.”

he slips a seconds finger into me, providing me with the familiar pleasurable stretch as the ever growing knot in my stomach tightens further and further.

“Jamie, i’m gonna-” i can’t even finish my sentence, my jaw dropping slack as he finds the sweet spot just behind my ear.

“you gonna make a mess on my fingers?” my abdomen tightens as i clench around his fingers, my eyes squeezing shut as i whimper his name. “taking ‘em so well, like such a good girl.”

and just like that, the knot snaps, his fingers continuing their pace as he rides out my orgasm.

he pulls his head back, watching as my face scrunches in satisfaction, my breath catching in my throat as my hips stutter.

“so pretty when you come for me.” he mumbles, pulling his fingers out of my panties as i come down from my high.

my eyes flutter open, my blurry vision focusing as i watch him lick his fingers clean of my release.

my hands fly down to the waistband of his boxers, tugging recklessly.

“please.” i cry and he smiles sultrily, knocking my hands away in order to replace them with his own.

he pushes his boxers down, kicking them off his legs and the bed. his erection presses between us, his tip red and glistening with precum.

his fingers hook into the sides of my panties, pulling them down my legs and tossing them to the side.

“i need you.” i purr, my hand wrapping around his base and causing a shiver to wrack his body.

he moans, leaning over to rummage in his bedside table as i slowly pump his length. the foil packet in his hand is ripped open with his teeth before he shoves my hand away, rolling the condom down his shaft.

my legs spread even wider as he positions himself between them, sliding his cock through my wetness.

my body convulses slightly as his tip drags across my sensitive clit; and at my reaction, he smirks, repeating his actions and making me whimper.

“please,” i beg, “don’t tease me.”

he enters me with shallow strokes, taking his time to make sure i’m throughly stretched out and ready for him.

my legs clamp around his waist, my hips rolling up to meet his thrusts.

“so tight,” he sighs, his head tipping back as i bite my lip to hold in my sounds. “like you were made for me.”

as soon as he’s completely inside me, he pulls almost entirely out before pumping back in, his hand sprawling across my lower stomach to apply a light pressure.

“Jamie!” i squeak as his tip continues to hit against my g-spot with each thrust, my hands flying up to clutch at his back.

my nails dig into his skin, surely leaving crescent indentations in his pale skin.

“that’s right, pretty girl.” his voice is tight and strained, barely heard over the squelching sounds of his dick inside of my wet pussy. “scream my name.”

with each roll of his hips, his pelvis brushes against my puffy clit, my body shaking with pleasure as he fucks into me.

“feels so good.” i shudder out, craning my neck to pepper kisses against his shoulder and throat. “don’t stop.”

his pace quickens, and after my first release, my second is rapidly approaching, the pressure building in my stomach.

“fuck, i’m not gonna last.” he gruffs out, his hand slipping down from my stomach to my clit, rubbing in figure eights.

“i’m so close.” i tell him breathily, my toes curling as i clench around him.

“shit, shit, shit.” his hips stutter, his thrusts growing faster and sloppier as he chases his high.

“Jamie!” my back arches, holding my breath as my legs begin to shake around him, the pressure in my abdomen quickly releasing as i come around his cock.

my vision goes white behind my eyelids while he curses, spilling out into the condom as he continues to fuck me through our releases.

“you’re fucking perfect.” he grumbles, his weight dropping onto me as we both come down from our orgasms.

the room is silent besides the sound of our heavy breaths, and we lay there for a moment in quiet bliss.

“i love the way you whimper my name from your pretty little lips when you come.” he breaks the silence, rolling off of me.

a hiss leaves my lips as he slides out of me, sensitivity in overdrive after two orgasms.

“i love you.” i whisper, turning my head to gauge his reaction at my admission.

a warm smile spread across his lips, his eyes sparking with joy as he leans in to kiss me, “i love you too.”

unlike the last, this kiss is gentle and sweet, dripping with our aforementioned love, rather than lust.

“let’s clean you up.” he murmurs, rising from the bed.

he pulls his boxers back on, helping me into his t-shirt before he retreats from the room. when he reappears, he holds a wet washcloth.

kneeling between my spread legs, he swipes the washcloth through my folds, cleaning me of my own cum, and my hips buck up at the sensation against my overworked clit. he chuckles at my involuntary reaction, setting the washcloth in his hamper before helping me back into a clean pair of his boxers.

i stand to the side, my arms hugging my body as he changes his sheets, throwing the old ones in the washer and replacing them with fresh powder blue ones.

it’s only seven in the evening, but exhaustion plagues my body, forcing out a yawn, and he peers down at me with loving eyes.

“nap time?” he questions and i nod sleepily, humming in agreement.

he guides me back to the bed, tucking me in before he climbs into his side. his arm wraps around me, pulling me against him under the blanket, and a lazy smile gathers on my face as he cuddles into me.

he presses a soft kiss to the back of my neck before burying his nose into my hair, sighing in contentment.

the room is quiet, aiding me in my efforts to fall asleep; all the way up until i hear footsteps against the wooden floors outside the bedroom, my brows furrowing at the sound.

“is that…?” my question is quickly answered when the bedroom door flies open, revealing a hyper Trevor.

“yo, Jimbo, tree looks good!” the tanned boy grins, bouncing happily in the doorway before his sights lock on his best friend and i.

his eyes grow wide, his mouth dropping into an ��o’ shape before he smirks, “FINALLY!”

[scuttle-buttle]

Co-Pilots

Nobody asked for this. I have the flu. I needed something nice to focus on and apparently this was it. Blame @lorna-d-m my partner in crime :) also kudos to winniemaywebber and sagesolscitcewrites because i def read all their stuff and was vibing it and the pet names and stuff sooo hard

Rated: 18+

Word Count: approx. 3k

Tags: MMF, fluff and reassurance, mentions of wartime ptsd, body confidence issues, mentions of having children, PiV sex, female receiving oral, male receiving oral, voyeurism, no stated use of contraception

A/N: Croz is referred to as Crosby, Harry, and Bing in this (so as not to confuse). And idk what rank Rosie is by this point so were just going with Major

✈️

The bright lights blinded you the first time you walked through New York City; tonight was no different. Flashes of neon whites, golds, blues, reds, lit up your path as you entered the lobby to the Ritz hotel. Your husband had made arrangements for you to meet him in the city much as he had a near 2 years ago during the height of the war. You wanted to meet him at the airport. Crosby insisted he find you at the hotel. And now, with Hitler defeated, he was on his way home. For good. 

His phone call had startled you. Usually, you wrote him weekly, sometimes more if you felt lonesome. Harry’s letters were less frequent, but no less loving. Little Steve kept you more than busy most days, back home safe terrorizing your mother and father while you got some rest and relaxation with your Bing in the big city. The toddler was a shining light in your dark days. He had the same dark curls, the same downturned eyes as his father. A piece of your love that was yours no matter what the war brought - or took.

You’d nearly lost your footing when you heard his voice, gruff and mellow, across the line. Darlin’ it's me, he'd said, I'm coming home but I've got some business to finish in the city, meet me there. I'm bringing Rosie, you remember him yeah? Said he'll take us dancing at the best jazz spots. I love you Mrs. Crosby. See you soon.

Now you wait in the lobby for your love and his friend.

Minutes tick by as you wait. Maybe the plane was late? Maybe they had to meet somewhere after landing to debrief? Maybe there was a problem with the engine? Just as your maybes started to drown out the chatter and bustle around you a voice rang out.

“Well ho-ly mackerel, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes Mrs. Crosby.”

The sight of your husband had you dashing into his waiting arms. Tears streamed down your face as you kissed him senseless over and over and over. Crosby couldn’t contain his laughter at your reaction, nor did he bother hiding it when he wiped his eyes dry. 

“I’ve missed you so much Bing.”

His forehead rested on yours. “God how I’ve missed you too, Darlin’.” 

Over his shoulder you notice a taller man, stylish moustache and curls neatly gelled into place, attempting to avert his eyes and give your reunion privacy. You were struck by how attractive he was. “Bing?”

“Oh!” Harry takes a step back. “Darlin’ this is Robert Rosenthal - or Rosie as us boys like to call him.”

Rosie gives a toothy smile and holds out his hand for a firm shake; “so nice to meet you, Mrs. Crosby. Croz here has told me all about you.”

Giving your husband a raised eyebrow, you ask “all good things I hope?”

Both men chuckle. “Only the best, ma’am.” 

The three of you settled into your rooms before deciding that a celebration was in order. Rosie commandeered the evening, promising only the best jazz New York had to offer. Drinks flowed, the band jived, and couples danced the night away. 

Night after night, Rosie took you somewhere new. You’d split your time whirling the dancefloor between both your husband and his pilot friend, never satisfied until your feet ached. Harry claimed all the slow dances, nestled up close to your body. But Rosie? He got the fast-paced, jumping, hip swaying swing that Crosby claimed he couldn’t keep up with. Two left feet, he’d claim. Each morning after you slept in the plush, luxurious Ritz bed until lunchtime while they attended to their military duties. 

Friday rolled around. It had been a week of this routine. You should’ve been exhausted, you should’ve wanted to slow down - after all you were no spring chicken anymore. Yet, something about being in the arms of your husband and Rosie as you swayed to Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman, and Glen Miller felt so right. 

When the barkeep yelled for “last call” you knew it was time to retire for the evening.

“Say, why don’t you come have a nightcap in our room, Rosie? Crosby asked.

The three of you settle into the living room of the suite assigned to you and your husband. Bing plops into an armchair with a satisfied huff. You join Rosenthal on the loveseat, a respectable distance inbetween. A bottle of whisky sits open on the fireplace mantle. Conversation comes and goes as the trio fall from the high of the night. It’s easy. Almost makes the boys forget the horrors they endured in Europe. 

Around 1am the conversation begins to lull as you finish regaling the group with a story of the shenanigans you and your girlfriends would get up to during university days. “-You think you boys were bad flying all around in your skivvies, but it was nothing compared to us girls that night!” Laughter filled the room until all had let it trickle to a close; the silence was warm like the fireplace embers. Robert sat enraptured by your story, by your beauty, by the thought of you under that blue dress and all your curves. He knew he shouldn’t have noticed…..he was just a man after all. And with the things he’d seen? Could you really blame him?

“How long’s it been Rosie?” The question broke the man’s gaze from you and directed it towards Crosby. He didn’t know it was so obvious. 

Rosie was about to stumble out an answer, an apology for looking at you like that, he doesn’t know, when Croz interrupts again. “When’s the last time you felt the touch of a good woman, Rosie?” Harry waits for an answer. Rosenthal can feel his face heat; he runs his fingers through his hair mussing the curls out of place. This confident Crosby was much bolder than the one he’d met when he first shipped out to the 100th. “Before the war?” There is no judgment in his eyes, no disdain or hesitation towards his comrade as he asks. Rosie shakes his head in affirmation. His glass clinks against the table as he sets it down, whisky unfinished.

Crosby sighs. “Too long.”

“Too damn long…” Rosie agrees in a mumble. 

You sit and watch the boys in rapt attention before meeting Bing's chocolatey eyes. Rosenthal is a good man, a great one from what your husband’s letters proved, and he deserves kindness and softness after all he’s been through. They both do. A delicate hand moves to rest on Rosie’s knee where he sits next to you. His brow furrows. The Major flits his gaze between you and your husband.

In all seriousness Crosby says “It’s alright, I don’t mind.” He tilts his head forward in permission, a silent go ahead. 

The navigator noticed how Rosie looked at you all night, how you returned the glances like a game of chicken. Each admiring but neither willing to do anything about it. How the two of you danced around the club without a care in the world at his insistence. He hadn’t seen Rosie smile like that in ages. He knew you hadn’t laughed like that since before he announced he was heading to the front. You definitely were reveling in the attention of both men tonight. This was never something you had discussed with your husband; somehow you just knew each other well enough even after so long apart to know that it was okay. It was something you both wanted.

Your fingers drifted higher on Rosie’s thigh; not enough to be indecent, but enough to get the message across. His larger palm came to rest atop yours, stopping the movement. “You uh- you’re okay with this?” the Brooklyn native questioned. 

Without hesitation you reassure “I am.” 

In a measured, almost odd approach Rosenthal shifts towards you. His lips hover over your cheek for a moment before the softest kiss brushes your skin. The whiskers of his mustache tickle. You can’t help the grin that threatens to break. He continues to kiss along your cheek, once, twice, thrice, each getting closer to your waiting lips. Finally, his chapped lips meet yours. This kiss is awkward at first as he gathers his bearing, quickly finding a rhythm as if no time had passed since he last kissed a pretty dame.

Crosby sunk deeper into his chair as he watched. He could feel the tell-tale sign of his slacks becoming tighter as he watched his best girl and his best friend. “She loves it when you kiss her neck,” he instructed with that smirk of his. Rosie dragged his lips to your throat. “Little lower-” again he shifted “-right there.” A moan slipped from your parted lips as your body warred with the directions from your husband and the attentions from your lover. 

The room felt stifling. Rosie’s coat, your dress, his shirt, your stockings, his trousers, your brassiere - each fluttered off to the floor one by one. Even Bing had lost his button down. 

The Major guided you onto your back along the couch, trailing open mouthed kisses down your sternum, along your breasts. A moment of clarity passed your mind that your body was different now than the last time you had been made love to, whether by your husband or not, since the baby. Your breasts weren't as pert, your stomach was softer than it used to be. Lips pursed, you let out a small sigh. 

“What’s wrong darlin’?” Bing asked. The navigator leaned towards you, brushing a strand of fallen hair from your face. “You know I can read you better than any map.” Rosie stopped and rested his chin on your abdomen to look up. 

“We can stop,” Rosie offered.

“No, It’s silly…” you tried to brush off.

Both men came to your defense immediately. Looking between the two you finally settle on your husband’s face. “It’s just that… since the last time we saw each other I’m different. My body changed and- I don’t know. I want it to be enough for you. For you both,” you add with a look to Rosie.

Crosby drops from the chair to his knees before you. “My pretty girl.” He kisses you slowly. “We’ve all changed.” From below Rosie adds nothing is the same. “You are still the most beautiful, most incredible, woman I’ve ever seen. Gosh - you’re my wife. Mrs. Crosby! I would fight to the ends of the earth to come home to you.” Softer he adds “I did fight to come home to you… and to bring this flak-happy bastard along too,” he laughed, nudging his elbow at his mate. “Now be a good girl and let us treat you right.” At your nod Rosie resumes his ascent down your waiting body. 

With a flourish your panties are gone, your dripping center exposed to his hungry stare. “What does she like, Croz? Because I'm not stopping until she comes begging all over my tongue.” He licks a deep stripe along your slit. “Sweet as sugar, babydoll.” Gone is the man unsure of himself, and in place is a god amongst men who knows exactly what he wants. It’s all you can do to hold on as Rosie devours you at your husband’s suggestions. Fingers dig into the cushions, tangle into his curls as you writhe under him. 

Rosie puts in his best effort to undo you; your husband saunters up to your face, his pants long forgotten. Cock stiff and ready, dripping with need, he runs the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip. Your teeth nibble at the pad.  “Think you can take me too, darlin’?” A whimpered please is all that comes out.

A cacophony of moans fills the air as your senses are assaulted - Rosie latched to your pussy like a lifeline and your Crosby’s cock deep inside your mouth. “That’s it darlin’, just like that. I bet you missed me, huh? I can tell you did, sweet girl. Fuck I missed you….” 

You gave him everything you had as you licked and sucked at his length. You could have sworn it was bigger than you remembered. He could tell by the look in your eyes you were getting closer, hell he was too. Lord knew he didn’t want to finish like some schoolboy in your lovely mouth. Crosby pulled himself out and you gasped for air. Cheeks flushed and sweat dripping down your temple he turned to his partner. “Use your fingers Rose, drives her wild when you crook them up inside her ‘n don't be afraid to get rough - give her a nip.” He punctuated the end of his command with a nip of his own to your throat. Rosie did exactly as instructed, sending you careening further to the edge and hips bucking.

“Oh- please Rosie- oh god don’t stop-” tumbles out as you start to fall. You swear you feel him humming against your clit as his fingers burn pleasure into your skin.

“That’s it darlin’, just let go for him. Being such a good girl for us,” croons your Bing.

When it all gets too much you gently push him from you. He goes gracefully, dropping chaste kisses to your thighs and hips. Despite feeling like a bowl of jello you remember your purpose tonight - to give Rosie a proper homecoming. 

Sitting up you demand he rid himself of his trousers. 

He grins. “Yes ma’am.” 

Just as Rosie goes to cover your body again you place your hand on his broad chest, pushing until he is in a sitting position. You quickly seat yourself over his lap, his length resting against you. Grinding down, he grunts. “Let me take care of you Rosie, it’s okay.” Kissing his temple, the corner of his mouth, his Adam's apple, you repeat “I want to take care of you dear, let me.”

With another roll of your hips he enters you. He feels different than your husband, but no less wonderful. Rosie’s hands land firmly on your hips as you rock above him. He knows he won't last long, you feel too good. “God Croz how do you do it? She’s so- ugh fuck” he grunts, head tossed back as you squeeze his length. 

“I know, Rose, I know. Just like heaven.” Your husband rubs your back as you move.

Rosenthal buries his face in the crook of your neck, his whimpers muffled so that only you can hear. There are no words for him to describe this feeling: the feeling of being comforted, the feeling of warmth, the feeling of home inside you, even if just for tonight. He almost feels a tear spring to his eyes. Circling your arms around his shoulders you remind him that you’ve got him, that he’s safe, that you're here. You pick up the pace as you ride him, bringing him closer and closer to his fate. His pelvis bucks up to meet yours with every roll.

“Honey I- I’m getting real close.”

You seal your lips on his; “I’ve got you, Rosie. I want you to come for me dear.”

With a deep groan he lifts you off his cock, his spend covering your stomachs and lap in a sticky mess. You hold him as he comes down from his high. 

“That was wonderful, thank you…just, thank you.” You kiss him once more; he knows he doesn’t have to thank you for anything, but he does because he’s Rosie. He carefully cleans you of his come with his discarded undershirt.

Crosby drops his lips to the crown of your head, beginning to pull the pins out of your carefully styled hair. “Come here, Darlin’.” He helps to lift you from his colleagues’ lap. “I wanna make love to my wife.” 

In seconds you’re on the floor under Crosby, his cock already buried to the hilt within you. Neither of you move as you both enjoy the feel of each other reunited as husband and wife. Whispered streams of I love you and I missed you and fuck you feel so good tumble from your lips, barely an inch apart. Harry would never need a map to know the curves, the sensitive spots, the constellations of beauty marks on your body - he knew it better in his memory than any map he could chart.

Besides you on the couch Rosie has slumped over to lay down, his arm hanging off towards you. Every breath of your husband’s puffs against your neck, every tickle of hair from across his chest reminds you that he’s here and he’s alive and he’s yours. Emotion overwhelmed you; “Bing, love please, I need you.”

Crosby hitches your thigh up and around his hip; “I’m here Darlin’.” With that he starts to thrust within your walls. His lithe body moves with a power you had nearly forgotten. Each roll of his hips he pounds into you harder, faster, with abandon; his dog tags cool against your breasts where they hung. Harry was a gentle man, but held so much emotion inside. He could let go with you. 

Your next orgasm was building, hotter and faster than the first. Nails raking down your husband’s back, you reached out your other to grab hold of Rosie’s outstretched palm. The slap of skin echoed around the room, mixed with the crackle of the fire and the sound of heaving breaths. 

An inferno raged within you. Every touch, every movement atop you sent sparks down every nerve ending. You didn’t know where you stopped and your husband began. “Fuck Bing mmmm- Harry please-” The rug beneath you rubbed your back raw but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as long as he kept going.

Crosby had his thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit in an instant. “Tell me you’re close, I need you to come Darlin’.” You couldn’t catch your breath so you nodded the best you could while squeezing the life out of Rosie’s fingers.  

Another snap of his hips and you’re gone, obliterated. Everything felt euphoric and white-hot. Crosby follows suit, his release filling you and your name on his tongue. Bruises will surely linger on your thighs. 

There you lay, tangled in the afterglow, your loving husband above you stroking his knuckles against your side and your new lover’s hand in yours. No words needed to be spoken. The moment you shared would be seared into your mind forever playing on repeat. God forbid another crisis happened that would ship your boys out and away from you - yet if it did you would hold on to tonight like a talisman. It had been a long four years, and longer so for them. But the war was won, with spoils a plenty. 

Finally. 

Lips meeting your Bing’s sweat-slicked forehead, your grip on Rosenthal tightens. “Welcome home my boys, welcome home.”  

Tags: @sagesolsticewrites @winniemaywebber @sailorscuttle @thirstyvampyr @hellfirequinnie @lorna-d-m

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

I Can See You | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Penelope's best friend comes to help out the BAU on a couple of cases, there's an immediate connection with the youngest of the team. After longing glances, soft touches and wild fantasies, the truth comes out accidentally. What is the resident genius going to do with that information?

Warnings: mention of serial killers and bombings, inappropriate thoughts

Author's note: I've wanted to write this one every single time I listened to the song but when @pastanest wrote it first, I was scared to do it too because that one is just too good (read it here)!! Anyways, hope y'all like this one, too :)

Words: 3K

Being Penelope Garcia’s best friend came with a lot of perks. Aside from it being impossible to ever be sad around her, it also came with the perk of doing the odd job at Quantico. We had met during her days as the Black Queen online and ever since, she had taught me all she knew about hacking and tech analysis. While she worked for the FBI, I worked across the yard at the Capitol as tech support. 

Her job was a little more tantalizing – sometimes more traumatizing – than mine. While I simply helped the employees with their technical issues, Penelope actually helped save people. 

And sometimes, she called for my help with a case whenever she figured everything would go so much faster with some helping hands and flexible fingers. 

The first time she had called me on a case, I didn’t even know what I was in for. She just told me to get to Quantico as soon as I possibly could, that it was a matter of life and death. So, I packed everything up, and rushed across the street to the FBI building. I didn’t even bother to tell my boss. I was certain Penelope’s boss would vouch for me and get me out of trouble, even though I had  never met him. 

“Thank you so much for coming, y/n/n,” said Penelope as she took me into a hug as soon as I burst through the front doors and into the hallway. 

“Penny, what’s happening? Are you okay?” I asked and held her at a short distance to inspect her for any injuries. 

She waved away my question. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said and grabbed my hand to drag me towards reception where I had to register. It wasn’t until after my bag had been inspected and I passed through security that she started to explain what was happening. “We’re working on this really tough case and though my dainty fingers are quick at tip tapping away on the keyboard, I’m gonna need your genius to get me the answers twice as fast.” 

On the way up to the sixth floor, she briefed me about the case, just so I was up to speed before we actually started. I was too distracted listening to her rambles that I didn’t even notice another person rushing through the hallway on our way from the elevators to her office. 

My shoulder bumped into theirs, causing me to stumble ever so slightly, but firm hands on my shoulders kept me from actually falling. “Oof, sorry!” The both of us apologized at the same time. 

What I didn’t expect to happen when I looked up at the person was being so taken aback by the beautiful pair of eyes that locked onto mine. The hazel orbs had tiny gold specks in them, making them look almost honey-colored. 

I was so distracted by his eyes, I didn’t catch Penelope’s mischievous smirk she would only get whenever she had expertly set me up with someone when we were out at a bar or a party. 

“Y/N/N, this is my wonderful colleague and resident genius, Spencer Reid. Reid, this is my almost-as-sexy-and-smart-as-me best friend, y/n y/l/n,” she introduced us as the guy – Spencer – retracted his hands from my shoulders, convinced I was steady enough on my feet. 

He offered me a smile that nearly wiped me off my feet again. “Hi, nice to meet you.” 

My lips curled into a smile that mirrored his. He didn’t offer his hand to shake, so I decided not to offer mine, either. “Ditto, Spencer,” I said instead, unable to tear my eyes away from his. 

“Okay,” Penelope then interrupted, “Enough chit-chat. We gotta go!” As I managed a quick wave at Spencer, my best friend pulled me along to her office where we settled behind her computer screens. While she explained how her system worked, my mind involuntarily drifted off to the disarming genius I met in the hallway. 

For hours, Penelope and I worked on the case together, taking turns in getting drinks and food to keep us nutritioned. We were discussing a list of potential UnSubs after we had finished our lunch and I was chewing on the straw of my Sprite when Spencer burst into the room. 

“Garcia, y/l/n, I’ve got something to narrow the search,” he said, causing my heart to flutter at how my last name sounded from his lips. He leaned between us, placing a piece of paper on the desk. His stomach was pressed against my shoulder whilst his arm brushed mine. 

A chill ran down my spine, but I remained poised, trying to be professional. “Those are the places he went to in the last twenty-four hours?” I asked, deducting the theory from the map in front of me. 

Spencer had drawn lines across the map, connecting at least five dots. “Uh-huh,” he hummed, then leaned in closer, his face right next to mine. “We were able to get these locations from the GPS of the rental car he used and ditched at the last murder site.” 

His breath felt hot against my skin, but it didn’t stop me from starting to tap away on the keyboard, trying to find any CCTV footage from any of the establishments in the neighborhood of those locations. Within seconds, I’d found some footage from a service station where the UnSub was seen leaving the shop. 

“Was this what you needed?” I asked sassily and turned my head to look at him. He was a lot closer than I anticipated him to be, my nose nearly grazed his cheek. Even up close he was pretty. 

He stood up straight again, much to my dismay, and offered me a shy smile. “Only if you can give me a name, too,” he told me. 

Raising my eyebrows challengingly, I turned back to the computer and ran the footage through Penelope’s software. Within seconds, I found a name, his age and address, which was someone on the list of suspects Penelope and I had been looking at for the past ten minutes. 

“Can you send that to the team?” he asked as he took out his phone, already dialing one of the team’s numbers. 

“Already did, pretty boy,” I smirked and watched as he walked away with a quick ‘thank you’ thrown over his shoulder towards us. When I turned back to Penelope, she looked at me with that teasing look she would only ever give me when she was about to give me shit. “What?” I asked. 

“Nothing,” she sang, though her face said something else entirely. 

I didn’t feel like getting into it. It wasn’t like I was going to see Spencer again. This was a one-time thing. Or at least, that was what I thought. It wasn’t until Penelope called me two weeks later with the same request. Even then I managed to stay somewhat professional around Spencer. 

But they didn’t leave it at two times. At least five more cases, I was asked to help Penelope out on. It didn’t bother me, at all. In fact, I actually enjoyed helping the BAU team on their cases. It gave me the opportunity to work together with my very best friend as well as secretly flirt with the young doctor. And, you know, learn something new and everything.

Every time I saw him, I could just imagine him pushing me against a wall and kissing me senseless. Every brush of the arm, every longing gaze we directed to one another. It all drove me completely insane, but there was not much I could do about it but sit back and act as professional as I possibly could. 

When we finished case number five, I was packing up my stuff and exited Penelope’s lair. My mind was still racing with the images I had seen about this gruesome case, but all of it seemingly cleared up when my eyes landed on the person standing at the very end of the hallway. 

“Oh, hi, Spencer,” I greeted with a smile as I approached him. 

He offered me that same knee-buckling smile. “Hi, y/n. I wanted to-uh, I wanted to check up on you. See if you were doing all right?” 

I wanted to push him against the wall and kiss his jaw. That man was the most considerate person alive and it was absolutely turning me on. Coughing, I recomposed myself. I couldn’t act upon these feelings building inside of me. 

“I am,” I said. “Though, I got to admit, this last case was a whole lot more brutal than the previous ones I helped on. It’s gonna haunt me for days.” I let out a chuckle, taking my eyes off him for a second. 

Spencer hummed. “Yeah, it, uh, it takes a while to get used to it.” 

“Do you ever get used to that?” 

Chuckling, Spencer shook his head. “No, not really…” 

A chuckle rolled off my lips too and for a moment, the two of us fell silent. It was a comfortable silence with the two of us just gazing into each other’s eyes as if we were under a spell. I knew that if I didn’t break eye contact, I would actually kiss him. 

“I, uh, I’m gonna go home,” I told him and finally tore my gaze off him. 

“Right,” he mumbled and turned towards the elevator. “You-uh, you want me to walk you to your car?” 

Eyes widening, I almost immediately let out a sharp, “No!” The moment he and I would’ve stepped out together, I would’ve jumped his bones. I coughed to recompose myself again. “No, I’m okay,” I repeated, softer this time. 

“Oh, okay,” Spencer nodded and stepped aside. “Well, I’ll, uh… I’ll see you another time then?” 

I offered him a smile. “Yeah, see you next time.” 

From the second I left the BAU, Spencer occupied my mind for the foreseeable future. Every corner I turned, every meal I had, every day I worked at my regular day job at the Capitol,... Spencer had taken over my mind and every fiber of my being. 

It had been a good week since I had last seen the BAU team, since I had last spoken to Spencer. I couldn’t focus at all. He was all I could think about to the point where I couldn’t even properly function. I had to do something about it. Even if it was just getting that feeling of frustration off my chest. 

That was why I had marched my way over to the BAU, went through the protocol at FBI security and clipped on my Visitor’s badge before trudging down to Penelope’s lair where I burst through the door without even knocking. She had given me the code to get in, so I didn’t have to knock. 

“Y/N? What are you–”

I ignored her and plopped down on the sofa with a groan. “I don’t know what to do anymore, Penny,” I told her defeatedly, resting my head back against the back of the sofa and looking up at the ceiling. 

“About what?” she asked. 

“Spencer, of course.” I didn’t catch Penelope’s wide-eyed look as I continued my tirade. “Unfortunately, I need him in a way that will defy the laws of space and time and set feminism back seventy years.” Rubbing my hands over my face, I rolled my head back to look at my best friend, who hadn’t given her unsolicited opinion immediately like she always did. 

That was when I saw the look of horror on her face. “Sugar plum,” she started, “Don’t be mad but…” My eyes landed on the device with the blinking red light behind her. She had been on a call and I could all but guess who was on that call. 

“No,” I muttered, my heart plummeting to my stomach and my cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Don’t tell me –” 

Penelope pressed a button, putting her coworkers on speaker rather than through her headset. All I could hear was Derek’s and Emily’s giggles. “Wow, y/n,” came JJ’s voice, a bemused lilt in her tone. “I did not expect that coming from you.” 

I squeezed my eyes shut before rushing forward and pressing what I thought to be the mute button. “Why didn’t you mute us as soon as I came in?” I asked before starting to pace the length of the room, but didn’t give Penelope the chance to answer. “Now everyone knows and to make it all worse – Spencer now knows.” 

“Oh, mama, it’s not like we didn’t already know,” came Morgan’s voice through hiccups of laughter. 

“PENELOPE!” I screeched, realizing I hadn’t pressed the right button. 

With a simple shrug, Penelope turned to me. “Maybe it’s not so bad?” she tried and I just groaned in frustration before turning on my heel and leaving her lair. Now I had to debate whether to wait for Spencer to come back and explain everything to him or to just go home and never show my face here again. 

There wasn’t much of a chance for me to think about it because the team quickly filed back into the offices. As soon as my eyes landed on Spencer, I froze. Our eyes met and I could tell he wanted to tell me something, but there was a serial bomber to catch. Rather than leaving and going home, I decided to stick around and help Penelope. 

But before I could head over to Penelope’s lair, it was impossible to avoid the other’s relentless comments. Through a sea of giggles and quoting of what I had said to Penelope in confidence, I made my way through the bullpen, rolling my eyes. 

“I’m gonna get a cup of tea,” I told Penelope, getting up from my seat in her lair. “You want one?” 

“Yes, please, sugar,” she answered without taking her eyes off her screen. 

With a chuckle, I left the office and made my way to the break room where I put on the kettle for two cups of tea. While I busied myself picking out a flavor, my mind drifted off to what I could possibly say to Spencer if I ever got the chance. 

“Oh,” I heard the mumble behind me and when I turned around, I found Spencer in the doorway. “Hi.” He smiled a little awkwardly before making his way to the coffee pot. 

I returned the gesture. “Hi.” 

My eyes were trained on him while he poured the coffee and scribbled something down on a notepad beside him. My mind filtered through every possible word combination possible. I was so distracted, the click of the kettle turning off startled me. 

As I poured the hot water into two cups, Spencer placed a folded piece of paper in front of me on the counter and scurried away before I could possibly react. Curiosity rising within me, I unfolded the piece of paper, only to find “Meet me tonight” written in his scrawny handwriting. 

“That’s not vague at all,” I scoffed before pocketing it and continuing making the tea. Once the teabags were in, I made my way back to Penelope’s office, but not without one last glance at Spencer in the bullpen. Together with Derek and Emily, he was bent over a file on Emily’s desk. 

He seemingly felt my eyes on him as he, too, looked at me. Feeling my cheeks heat up underneath his gaze, I quickly looked away and rushed towards my best friend. I leaned my back against the door as soon as I shut it, trying to catch my breath. 

“What’s gotten into you, pumpkin?” Penelope asked when she saw the state of me. 

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, annoyed at myself that I let a man make me feel this way. “Not Spencer, unfortunately.” My best friend let out a loud cackle. “He gave me this note–” I placed her octopus mug in front of her before handing her the note. 

“That’s vague,” she mumbled, her brows furrowed. 

“Exactly what I thought,” I grumbled. “He was gone before I could even ask.” 

Penelope tsked before patting the chair that had been mine for the last couple of weeks. With a sigh, I plopped down carefully so as to not spill my hot tea. For the next hour, I tried to focus on the case more than on Spencer and what I was going to say to him. 

However, it was hard not to think about him. 

So, once the case was wrapped up, I packed up my stuff and went out to the hall where Spencer had waited for me merely a week ago. I didn’t even bother to say goodbye to Penelope as I would be seeing her soon anyway and she knew I had to do what I had to do. 

It took a couple of minutes before Spencer walked out of the bullpen, eyes focused on the phone in his hand. 

“‘Meet me tonight’?” I asked, capturing his attention. His honey eyes met mine, his lips twitching into a smile. “Could you be any more vague?” 

“Sorry,” he chuckled and chucked his phone into his pocket again. “I just–” he sighed, unable to finish his sentence. Another soft laugh rolled off his lips as he looked down to the squeaky-clean floor of the FBI Headquarters. He looked back up at me, his eyes tender and searching for something I didn’t even know. 

“What?”

Not even bothering to answer my question, Spencer grabbed my hand and tugged me into the closest room, which happened to be the family room. As soon as the door was shut, he pushed me against the wall by kissing me, his hands on my hips to hold me in place. 

“Does this set feminism back seventy years?” he asked between kisses to my lips and jaw. 

My toes curled and my stomach fluttered. This was all I had been dreaming of ever since I met him that first day. I had wanted him flush against me, fingers tangling up in my hair and his tongue warm against mine. 

“No,” I breathed while he worked his way down my neck in open-mouthed kisses. “But it does defy the laws of space and time.” 

The words seemingly set something animalistically off in Spencer as his kisses became hungrier and his hands roamed my body in ways I had never been touched before. He gave me enough to brag to Penelope about the next day. 

He gave me everything I had been dreaming of. 

Everything taglist: @calamitykaty@littlemissaddict @n0wornever @wanniiieeeee @unnowhatthisistbhbh

Criminal Minds Taglist: @boimlers-gonna-boim @samsbirks@tinaasthings @dysphoricsanity @love4lando @elenamoncada-ibarra @r-3dlips @magstheslayer @astess 

[cattlemons]

Third Fifth Time's A Charm

| You and Megumi have been dating for quite some time now. Almost half a year, give or take. Upsettingly enough, he has yet to say his ‘I love you's. This bugs him a bit too much so Megumi is now a man on a mission and that mission just so happens to be about confessing his love to you. Basically the four times Megumi almost dropped the “L” word and the one time that he did. I mean come on, fifth time’s a charm, right?

TW: None, I think? I wrote it with college!au in mind but can be read as just a normal jujutsu kaisen fic Just fluff after posting angst, megumi gets chased by a duck? idk what counts as a tw pls let me know if I should add anything, also actual big boy writing cus word count is 3k.

---

Crumbs, ducks and hold on a minute... 

It was around October when the leaves were finally falling and the air was brisk. Megumi had decided to take you out for a mini-date before finals week whisks the both of you away, each secluded in their own world of ink and paper. 

It had honestly gone mostly ok and as planned. The usual schtick, really. Compliment your pretty outfit, exchange loving banters on the way there, get to the park and enjoy your time together. Simple and easy, right? 

Wrong. 

Megumi and you had just finished eating the sandwiches he’s prepared for the picnic. They were wrapped so neatly in pink patterned paper that you can’t help but swoon at the time and effort it must’ve taken for him to prepare it all. 

Megumi took to the toilet a bit after that, or, he planned to. What he didn’t see coming is the fact that ducks started chasing him around right as he walked past the pond. You soon learned that they were chasing him because of the bread crumbs falling off of his jeans. 

After a few bouts of running on Megumi’s part (and giggles from yours), the ducks finally stopped following him. Opting to squawk at the couple on the other side of the pond that’s actually trying to feed them crumbs and seeds. 

Megumi soon found relief as he sat back down beside you still huffing and puffing from the unexpected marathon he ran. Of course, you being the compassionate girlfriend that you are, did not let him off easy. At least, not without teasing him a bit. 

“You know those ducks have really good taste in men,” you quipped. A few beats of silence pass before the two of you erupt into a fit of laughter. 

You were nearly in tears as you continued to giggle uncontrollably at the mental image of Megumi getting chased and flirted with by ducks. Though you probably won't find your laughing any special, Megumi found it absolutely breathtaking. 

From the way your eyes brighten at the hilarious image to the sound of your held-in guffaws, Megumi just can’t get enough of it. He wants to hear it over and over again. He absolutely loves it. 

And he absolutely loves you.

Wait, huh?

Watson, how do you say “I love you”?

“Finally! No more stuffy libraries and definitely no more books! I’m so happy it’s over,” you yelled as you stretched out your tired back. 

Finals are over and you can now rest without worrying. However, it’s a whole other story for Megumi. He is still stressed out of his mind but not because of the reason you might think. No, he is stressed because he has yet confessed the feelings hidden deep in the recesses of his heart.

I love you. 

Who knew such simple words could drive one mad. Megumi never would’ve thought the stress his feelings would bring could trump the amount of stress an exam would bring but he supposes that he can only be so many times. 

Megumi has decided that maybe he should tell you the three words that have been plaguing his mind. So a few days after some much-needed rest, Megumi proposes a little trip to the art museum. Who were you to refuse such a sweet request?

Dressed in his most academic-looking attire, Megumi readies himself for his little confession, going so far as to script it. 

Yes, today he will confess!

Today he did not confess.

It really was the perfect moment. Megumi feels absolutely horrible for letting such perfect timing pass him by but nothing could be done about it now. 

The perfect timing came by when you were nearing the end of the date. It was a really fun date, possibly one of the best ones so far! Megumi had shown you around the museum, giving fun tidbits of information on each art he sees. You were about to point out how knowledgeable your boyfriend was before it finally clicked. 

“Ah! My dear Watson, I think I’ve solved the mystery. It turns out the Duke of Information, Megumi Noritoshi, has done ample research before this date! Proof in the pudding, Watson, look at his palms,” you teased as you took his hands into yours and pushed back his sweater sleeves to see smeared notes on his earlier “fun facts”.

Megumi’s face turned pink as he flushed at your exposing of his secret. Muttering a small, “Blimey, I’ve been caught!” in response to your little skit. 

Seeing him blush and flustered has you grinning (not that anyone could blame you, it really is a cute sight). Taking your chance, you decide to tease him a bit more. Opting for light nudges of your elbow and soft kisses all over his face. This, of course, did nothing to ease the red spilling all over his cheeks. If anything it painted more colors on his face. 

Once the teasing died down, you decided to maybe be a bit more heartfelt. After all, he did prepare for your date and put in so much effort to learn these facts and information. 

“I might not say this enough but I absolutely appreciate you putting this much effort into our dates… maybe I have not been vocal enough  about these things but I hope you know I really do appreciate you doing this and… I love you,” you mumbled a tad bit quieter than you usually would. You’re even caught sporting a light blush of your own despite you trying your best to keep a nonchalant front. This isn’t your first time telling him you love him but, still, being so heartfelt like this has you blushing.

Megumi smiled at his usually unbothered girlfriend being so, well, bothered. 

Wrapping his hands around your waist, he goes to give you a small peck on the crown of your head before leaning in a bit more to whisper his confession. 

I love you!

Yet the words did not seem to tumble out. Although a bit disappointed in his lack of confidence, Megumi recovered quickly and instead leaned in for a sweet kiss. 

I wonder if fishes have confessions too?

“Megumi look! They’re so pretty,” you exclaimed excitedly as you pointed at a jellyfish swimming past. Megumi nods in agreement though he is honestly paying more attention to you than the exhibit.

Megumi has taken it upon himself to set up another good date  to confess on. Truth be told, he’s had far too many nightmare-ish thoughts about his recent failures in confessing and how he’ll never be able to say it. So, to take action, Megumi decides to take you on another date. This time he decided that maybe visiting an aquarium would be fun!

He is sorely mistaken, unfortunately.

As you continue to walk through the exhibit, you fail to notice Megumi lagging a bit behind you in the aquarium tunnel. Your attention was so fixated by the fishes swimming over your head and on each of your sides, that you missed the sight of your boyfriend darkly muttering (and struggling) on his confession script. 

Or so he thought...

“Honestly, why can’t I just be a fish-”

“Why would you want to be a fish though?” you asked as you leaned in towards him. 

Megumi’s eyes widen in surprise at your sudden intrusion. Megumi supposes that he’s been too lost to the world. He shook his head and just muttered a quiet “never mind”. 

The day continued as you enjoyed your day. You feast your eyes on magnificent sea creatures both great and small; you can’t help but awe at them as a child would. Not that Megumi minded, he thinks you look absolutely adorable when you coo at the sharks or clap at the seals when they would do a trick. However, Megumi couldn’t say he’s enjoying today as much because he continued to struggle with his little confession script, either chickening out at the last minute or completely missing the perfect timing. 

By the end of the day, Megumi decided enough is enough. Under the dim lights of the empty “deep sea” sector of the zoo, Megumi closed his eyes and steeled himself. Summoning every bit of courage he had within him, he blurted out his confession. It was a bit aggressive and loud, perhaps even a bit rushed. 

But he did it-

-not.

Megumi opened his eyes, to be greeted not by your soft smile. It wasn’t even your frown. Instead, he was greeted by a fish staring directly at him through the aquarium glass. It seems to be mocking him, almost. And as for you, you were already at the other side of the area, lining up to pay for a souvenir that caught your eyes. 

Ugh, why can’t he just be a fish and blow bubbles at you to show his love? 

Wine is a  poetic mood-setter, right?

Although tired and defeated by his numerous failed attempts, Megumi is not one to give up. This is especially true when it comes to you. So, if one plan fails then best be known he is already running back to the drawing board to come up with a new one.

This time around Megumi decided to pull up on all the stops. Sparing no expense, he reserved a table at one of the city’s most high-end restaurants. I mean what could be more romantic than a late-night wine-and-dine?

To Megumi it’s not the pricey menus that are troubling, nor is it the number of strings he had to pull to get the reservation. Nope. What’s troubling him is the confession he is secretly building up to. You see, it’s been a good handful of months since Megumi came to the realization that he absolutely adores you. 

He loves you.

Yet, somehow, saying it out loud is a whole different league than thinking and coming to terms with it. Something about admitting it and posing vulnerable seems so jarring to him. Of course, you’ve never given him any reason to fear being honest with you. He supposes that if anything were to cause him to be this certain way, then it’s probably the lack of touchy-feely emotions in his childhood. That aside, Megumi is still as determined as ever to tell you that he loves you. This brings us to the current situation. 

Megumi is seated opposite of you, decked in his slickest suit and tie. You had admitted that he looks ridiculously good in his outfit before the dinner (he blushes at the comment). Naturally, you were also in a rather stunning number yourself, with the scandalous-looking outfit only you could possibly pull off. 

As much as Megumi would love to just admire you and enjoy the amazing atmosphere, he has other things currently occupying his head. At first glance, you might’ve thought that he was flustered by your choice of outfit for the night if you didn’t know any better. This is, of course, one of the reasons why Megumi was a bit dazed but sadly that’s not the only reason why. 

You didn’t really connect the dots right away. There are a bunch of little crumbs and pieces that could’ve contributed to Megumi’s flustered and jumpy attitude in this particular evening but nothing defining. 

The evening progressed and more telltale signs showed themselves to you. You could honestly write a meter-long list but to keep it concise, the things you have noticed include Megumi’s inability to look you directly in the eye, the rather incessant twiddling of his thumbs, the stutter that accompanied his usually leveled voice, and finally (and the most telling) is his avoidance of the word “love”. 

Of course, it could all be a coincidence but you think not. Although you didn’t do much to garner his “suspicion”, you’re not daft nor were you ignorant. You knew of his struggles in dropping a particular “L” word. You had honestly known for a while. It’s not that you were a psychic or anything of that sort, it was actually because Megumi had not been the most secretive of his plans. You suppose he intended for it to be a “hush-hush” plan but unfortunately for Megumi, he had a tendency to think out loud when stressed. 

Though you were originally planning to let Megumi off the hook and let him figure things out on his own, you decided that leaving him to wallow on his own is doing more harm than good. So when Megumi choked rather aggressively at his pasta when you said the word “love”, you chose to bring up the topic. 

“So, when are you gonna tell me what’s been cooking up in that head of yours… hmm?”

Megumi’s eyes widened at the question you’ve just asked, though it seems more like a prompt than a question. Megumi looked down to his lap for a second before facing you again, this time sporting an embarrassed flush on his cheeks. 

Megumi struggled to confess before letting out a defeated sigh and a small apology. This caused you to shake your head, not in a dismissive way but in a way to tell him that there’s nothing to be sorry for. 

“Megumi, I know you know I know so I’ll just say it outright,” you huffed before continuing, “I love you’s aren’t something you can or should force out. I’ve said it to you on countless accounts because it comes naturally to me, love. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel cornered into saying it but please know that I don’t mind you taking your time, ok?”

Your little speech was met with a relieved sigh and soon followed by a laugh. You look up to see Megumi’s genuine grin in place, you can’t help but smile at the endearing sight. 

“Ahh, I should’ve known not to stress over these kinds of things when it’s with you, huh? Thanks. I’ll definitely take my time with it.” 

You nodded in agreement at his newfound determination. As much as you wanted to hear those three words tumble out of his lips and uttered to you, you knew better than to rush him into it. And besides, hearing it in full sincerity will definitely be better than hearing a rushed one. With all that said, you and Megumi enjoyed the rest of the evening with wine glasses raised and the air filled with happy chatters and laughs. 

And I thought it was difficult, huh?

A streak of light shone through the gaps in the curtains, making it known to you that it is time to get up already. Or, at least, it would be time to get up had it been a weekday. Thankfully, however, it is the weekend so you can take your time in getting up. While your boyfriend slept soundly beside you, his hand draped loosely over your figure, you can’t help but admire his features. As you did so, thoughts on what happened a while back popped into your head. 

 It’s been a few months since your last dinner date with Megumi and things have calmed down quite a bit. Although Megumi still feels a twinge of guilt from his lack of response whenever you whisper an “I love you”, he does remember your take on this situation, and those few words you spared have done immense work in calming him down. 

As you continue to reminisce on the events that have transpired in the last few months, you failed to notice Megumi stirring awake beside you. You only notice that he’s awake when he’s poking your cheek, asking, no, demanding petulantly for his morning kisses. 

Deciding to tease him a bit while he’s still in his morning daze, you uttered, “Sorry, love. Morning breath.” You went as far as sniffing at his general direction and fanning your hands over your nose and scrunched your nose up in fake disgust. 

Still in a sleepy stupor, Megumi pouts at you and goes to get out of bed. You decide to let your curiosity win and end up following your boyfriend to the bathroom, the cold linoleum tiles doing wonders in waking the two of you up immediately. 

Though he is now much more awake now than a few minutes ago, it didn’t dampen his pout one bit. With the handle of his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, Megumi babbled on about how his day is now ruined because you wouldn’t let him start it off with a kiss. You only giggled in response, your own toothbrush poking out of your lips. 

Being the menace that you are, you decided to playfully smear Megumi’s face with some toothpaste foam. One thing led to another and soon you two are on the bathroom floor laughing aloud. Somehow his laugh and expressions egged yours on and yours did his which caused a new bout of laughter to erupt every time you’d both fall silent. It went on like this for quite some time but neither of you minded it one bit.  

Now that the laughter has died down a bit, you both exchanged mini banters here and there, still seated on the floor with both your shoulders touching; with toothpaste in your hair and on his cheek. As you giggled at a particular joke Megumi muttered, he felt that odd feeling in his heart again, just like the time in the park and all those other dates he stressed over but this time, before he could stop it, he whispered…

“I love you.”

Your laughter immediately ceased only to be replaced by the happiest grin you’ve ever mustered. With new buzzing energy coursing through you, you tackled Megumi into a hug which effectively knocked the two of you down to the ground but neither you nor Megumi minded.

With his newfound confidence, Megumi repeated the foreign sentence over and over again as if he’s testing it out. He finds that he likes saying it. 

He likes it because your smile widens a bit more when he says it. 

He likes it because you’d give him kisses whenever he says it.

And he absolutely loves it because you’d always say it back to him.

With a wobbly and lovesick grin, Megumi says it one more time for good measure. 

“I love you.” 

a.n. I did not really proofread this bcs I had classes today and it KO'd me :"(

Hope you liked it!

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Babe wake up, new series just dropped! This is not proofread btw

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, Miguel being jealous? (If you squint), i am mexican but my Spanish sucks so apologies I’m advance, Phantom of the Opera spoilers (???? Through I’d throw it out there)

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 1:The world was on fire

—

“Love me or hate me, Both are in my favor. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.”

The quote was etched into the front of your red hardcover notebook, with gold details covering the edges of the front. The black ink was oddly neat despite how deep you had to indent the words over and over on the cover. Miguel has noticed that you would always write a beautifully tragic quote on the front of all your English notebooks every year.

Last year, the quote was, “Love is blind, and lovers cannot see.”

For sophomore year, “She could have been a poet or she could have been a fool.”

And for freshman year it was, “‘I miss her.’ ‘You’re dead.’ ‘Even in death, I mourn her.’”

The first time Miguel saw it was when you both were in the 7th grade, being paired up to write a report about some random novel that Miguel couldn’t remember the name of. You had pulled out your notebook, that year it was a dark forest green, with the quote being, “But just because I’m not going to wish for it doesn't mean the moth can ignore the flame. It’s in the moth's blood.”

Miguel’s dark maroon eyes rolled to the back of his head, it was almost pretentious he thought, a way to show off how “artsy” you are. He allowed a scoff to escape his plump lips, you simply ignored him as you began to flip through your notes.

You were much more into history, the arts and most of all, Literature, while Miguel was more into science and math. Miguel didn’t understand why you loved it so much, he didn’t think your favorite subjects were nearly as important as his. Who cares what some dead poet wrote a thousand years ago, when he could be the next to make a big scientific discovery? Like time travel or curing cancer. Sure, Miguel still did the work in english and history, and for someone who didn't care for it, he would always do so well, and that drove you up the wall, but Miguel could say the same about you with math and science. Miguel would always tune you out when you would ramble on about some new book you were reading to your friends, or would ignore the way your eyebrow would furrow together and your teeth would bite down on your lips when you’d get to a particularly good spot in your novel, stopping every once and a while to annotate, would scoff at the the way your eyes would stare at piece of art with such fascination and wonder when the class would go to a field trip to an art museum, groan at how’d you always talk about the beauty of old gothic architecture, talking about how the beauty of the buildings was almost tragic.

The key word, would.

As you two grew older, and your competitiveness in your grades became more intense, Miguel couldn’t help but start to wonder what goes through that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to see how the deep corners of your mind worked. What made your brain tick, maybe if he saw the world through your perspective, he would understand you more.

Your manicured hand grabbed your notebook by the bloody red spine, gently gripping it before placing it into your bag, and zipping it up. Slinging it over your shoulder as you turn to talk to your friend who sat next to you, before you both made your way out of the AP English classroom.

You and Miguel had been attending the same classes since you transferred in the 6th grade, both of you attend one of Nueva York’s most prestigious and high-end boarding schools. At first, Miguel didn’t pay you any mind, figured you were just another spoiled brat with daddy’s money, and a trust fund big enough to last you until you find some poor unsuspecting fool to ask for your hand and make you into a trophy wife, like most of the girls who attend the school. But it wasn’t until you had beat his score later that year on the mid-year school wide testing did you get his attention. He could remember it like it was yesterday, he was sitting in class with a near perfect score of 97% written on top of his test answer sheet, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he slid the paper over to his left where Peter Parker had sat.

“I swear man, you’re like, a genius.” Peter grumbled to Miguel as he glanced at his friend’s paper, before at his own which had 78% written at the top. Peter’s hand went up to pat Miguel on the back, but before Miguel could reply, just bearly in earshot, he had heard an unfamiliar voice speak.

“Yeah I got a 99, I wasn’t expecting…” Miguel didn’t catch the rest, but the first part was enough for his whole body to feel hot all over, and make his stomach twist in discomfort. He felt like he was about to go into a state of shock, or rather he was already entering one. He’s never had someone top before, if felt like he was dreaming, well, maybe having a nightmare was a better way to describe it. He couldn’t remember how long he had sat at his desk afterwards, in a weird state of disassociation until Peter had pulled him back to reality. He swore to himself, after that moment he’d never let you top him again.

But that was a hard promise to keep. Because whether he'd like to admit it or not, you were good, always keeping him on his toes. You were almost like a breath of fresh air for him, albeit a painful one, like the first shallow breath after almost drowning. Before you , Miguel was growing content, growing bored, no other student was anywhere close to his GPA, even the second best at the time, he felt simply untouchable, but then you came along, and you changed everything for him.

At first, he saw you more as a pest, an annoying little fly that kept buzzing around no matter how many times he had tried to swat you away. Upon your first time formally meeting with Miguel, you were polite and civil, the kindest smile on your face as you stuck your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself to him. Miguel just glanced at your hand with a sour, unamused expression on his face, before his eyes wandered back up to your face and he just let out a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a scoff before turning and walking away, leaving you confused and a little bit hurt from his unfriendly and quite frankly rude actions, you decided to just brush it off, maybe he was having a bad day and wasn’t in a good mood. So a few days later you tried to approached him again in hopes for a better interaction, only for those hopes to get squashed when he basically told you to fuck off, rolling his eyes and ignoring your presence once again as he walked past you, “accidentally” shouldering you in the process. You decided to stop trying to be nice to him after that.

For about the first year since you transferred, you and Miguel simply pretended the other didn’t exist, neither would approach or interact with the other unless absolutely necessary, the only constant reminders of each other's presence was when one would beat the other during tests, report cards, etc. Eventually the plain out ignoring shifted to fleeting glares and glances, eye rolls and snarky remarks muttered under both of your breaths, both of yours already rocky relationship with each other becoming more and more intense and open as you both got older, neither finding the energy to even attempt to tolerate the others presence anymore. So now you and him were stuck in this repetitive circle with each other, but neither of you were doing anything to stop it.

—

“I’ve already told you Gabe, I’m not going to give you my notes from last year. Read the book like everyone else.” Miguel sighed, stuffing his free hand in his pocket, his other hand holding onto his backpack strap, walking to the housing building across the campus of Nueva York’s Preparatory Academy, where he and his younger brother shared a room.

“But Miggy!” Gabriel whined, his lips coming out in a pout, and Miguel’s nose scrunched in annoyance at both the nickname and the high-pitch tone of his brother's whine. “What’s the point of me being brothers with one of the top students at this school if I can’t steal your notes! Besides, I've tried and I just can’t get into it. Who would have thought that Frankenstein would be such a boring book, and don’t get me started on how the paragraphs are set up!”

“And that’s my problem because?” Miguel’s eyebrow quirked up, sending Gabriel an unamused look.

“Look Miguel, you might not get it from my point of view, but it’s very difficult for me, being your brother. From an academic standpoint I mean. The teachers expect me to have the same intelligence as you. I'm not stupid, don’t get me wrong, I’m just not on the same playing field as you. Also, I don’t like reading.” Gabriel shrugged.

“And what makes you think that I do?” Miguel retorted with an eyeroll, opening the glass doors to the housing building for his brother before stepping in himself and shutting the door behind him.

“Well didn't you get an A+ on your report about the book last year?”

“No. I got an A-.” Miguel grumbled, and after a moment, Gabriel’s expression perked up a bit, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“Oh riiight, that one girl got an A+, what was her name again?” Gabriel said in an almost teasing tone, before throwing out various names at Miguel that were similar to yours, obvious bait to see if his brother would bite, and he did.

“It’s (Y/N).” Miguel corrected with a hash glare.

“Oh, right, right.” Gabriel’s lips went up in a slight smirk, his hands going into his pockets to fish out the keys to their shared dorm room. “Maybe I can ask her to help me, I mean she’s a bookworm, right?”

Miguel didn’t answer the question, not completely sure if it was rhetorical or not, choosing to stay silent as they finally stopped in front of their room.

“I could ask for her notes, maybe take her out for some coffee as a thank you.” Miguel’s face scrunched with annoyance at the implication, his brother knew how much you two disliked each other, and a more sound part of his mind was telling himself that his little brother was just pulling at his leg, but that didn’t stop him from the draggers he glared at Gabriel.

“Don’t even think about it. Hasta la mira mal a esa niña, y estás muerto. ¿Entiendes?” Miguel hissed, his voice dropping an octave with the threat. (If you even look at that girl wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”)

Despite his older brother’s threats, Gabriel’s smirk only turned into a wide grin, before he put his hands up as I sigh of surrender, his keys dangling with the motion before he unlocked the door, and walked into the room, Miguel following closing the door behind him.

—

“I don't understand anything about this, (Y/N).” Your friend, Mary Jane, or MJ for short, groaned as you both sat down in one of the school's many libraries, school supplies sprawled on top of the mahogany desk. It was fairly empty, today, but you both took space in one of the empty study rooms to keep from making too much of a disruption from anyone else who might go in, the repeated sound of rapid tapping of MJ’s mechanical pencil hitting the desk as you catch her biting her bottom lip in frustration.

“I know.” You giggled with a small smile, putting your hand on her forearm in an attempt to comfort her. You both have been at it for about 3 hours now, your English teacher had assigned everyone to write a 2,000 word essay about the book being read in class Romeo and Juliet. You’ve already read and watched the play a million times so you knew the back of your hand.

“Like I understand that, they fall and love and die and stuff, but all the jokes and the symbolism and stuff-“

“That’s why I’m here, MJ.” You grinned at your friend, and she just scoffed at you with a friendly smile, a smile you returned, before getting up from your seat with a small stretch. “I’ll be right back, I'm going to go stretch my legs.” You told her, which only got you a hum in response, before you slipped out of the small room. No matter how much time you’ve spent in this specific library, (it’s your favorite one) you’ll never get tired of the earth and wood-like tones that filled your senses whenever you would enter in the building, the four old walls always filled you with such warmth, they were like a second home for you. You let out a deep content exhale as your black Mary Jane heels tapping quietly against the old wooden tiles of the library floor. Mindlessly wandering with no real destination in mind, but making sure you don’t stray too far from the study room, it wasn’t difficult to lose your sense of direction in the make-shift corridors made from old bookshelves. You turn a corner without thinking, a hand goes up , gently brushing the spines of the books as you continue walking. What genre section were you in?

Your steps came to a halt, taking a step closer to the shelf as you grabbed the book your hand was resting on. Your lips came up in a soft small smile as you read the title of the book in your hands.

The phantom of the opera.

Oh how you loved the story, you’ve watched both the movie renditions and the stage version countless times, but you’ve read the novel more than you’ve watched all three combined, but your copy sadly got ruined when you dropped it in a puddle of water while on a walk, and haven’t had the time to get a new copy. Was it bad that if you were in Christine’s shoes, you would have picked Erik over Raoul?

Your fingertips opened the door, flipping the pages until you landed on the page you were looking for.

Hardly breathing, he went up to the dressing-room and, with his ear to the door to catch her reply, prepared to knock. But his hand dropped. He had heard a man's voice in the dressing-room, saying, in a curiously masterful tone:

"Christine, you must love me!"

And Christine's voice, infinitely sad and trembling, as though accompanied by tears, replied:

"How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!"

Raoul leaned against the panel to ease his pain.

His heart, which had seemed gone-

“Why am I not surprised I’d find you here?” The sudden words interrupted your reading. You didn’t need to lift your eyes to know the source of the voice, the slight accent and the deadpan tone gave it away.

“Hello to you too, O’Hara.” You replied, your eyes not lifting, your hand flipping to the next page despite no longer reading the words on the pages anymore, you weren’t going to give Miguel the satisfaction of knowing he had your attention. The act didn’t last very long though when his finger went up to lift the book up to read the cover, your gaze going up to finally look up at him, a bored expression on your face, a tsk leaving his mouth when he realized what you were reading.

“What?” You question him, wanting to know what that reaction meant, you closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

His lips come up to a smug smirk.

“That you find that shit romantic.” He stated like he knew it was a fact, and you’d rather die than admit to him that you did, in fact, find it romantic. “Don’t act like you don’t, I can read you like a book. No pun intended.”

Your face came to a scowl, instead of entertaining him with a response, you crossed your arms and slightly leaned against the bookshelf behind you.

“What are you even doing here Miguel? You don’t even like reading.” He didn’t entertain your question with a response either, rather he just shrugged, and took a step closer, his hand going up to rest against the self, his hand was right next to your head.

“Do me a favor?” He asked, but his tone came out more like it was a suggestion rather than a request.

“Why would I do that?” You scoffed.

“Don’t make me beg, muñeca.” His tone dropped an octave. Despite the pet name, his voice was filled with nothing but coldness. (Doll)

“Don’t give me ideas.” You teased. Your lips twitched up slightly.

“If my brother comes to you and asks to take you out, go ahead and say no.” That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, but you slowly nodded your head regardless, deciding to not ask what his brother said to him that would make him come up to you about that. His hand came back down to his side as he took a step back “Good. How’s the essay coming?”

The sudden topic change you off guard a bit, but you quickly recovered, since it was something you’d both been more used to talking about, your studies.

“I’m almost done, I’ve mostly been just helping MJ with hers.” You explained, as you stood up straight again. “You?”

“Same, if it weren’t for Peter I probably would already be finished with it.”

“Don’t stress about it too much, O’Hara.”

“Oh, why not?”

You smiled.

“Because I'm gonna get a better grade on my paper anyways.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I am but a simple whore humbly requesting some frogging with a jealous frankie in a bathroom stall at a bar 😇 (I thought the gif might spark inspo or just rile you up like it did me)

congratulations on your milestone angel!!! you deserve it so much and I LOVE YOU MWAH 💘💋🫶🏻

a/n: honestly just how dare you plop this idea in my brain. how dare you. you know what you're doing... you know exactly what you're doing... like I don't fucking stop breathing every time I see him take off his belt..... ahhh I think I'm gonna pass out (also I never write smut with this little dirty talk, but that was just the vibe. needy, desperate, silent. at least the beginning, what I wrote... in my head they start screaming by the end)

word count: 887

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | join my 3k celebration! 

“Wow, Frank,” you protest as the bison of a man pushes you into the vacant bathroom, “what are you doing here?” pushing his strong hands off of you as the door slammed behind him. 

“What am I-, what are you doing here?” he growled, towering over you. 

Crossing your arms, you scoffed at his audacity, “I am allowed to go out and have a drink.”

Narrowing his dark eyes at you, he shook his head lightly and uttered, “you were not just having a drink. If you wanted just a drink, then you would have stayed at home.”

“And why would you care?” you sighed, completely over his bullshit, wanting so badly to just push passed him and return to your reckless plan of blowing off some steam and perhaps finally getting over the bastard standing in front of you right now. 

His sturdy nose lightly twitched a second as his eyes drifted down your face, taking your breath away completely when he then unexpectedly reached out and pulled you into a fevered kiss. Reeling, a shuttering breath escaping your lungs as you eventually melted into the reality of what you had dreamed about for so long. 

“Because,” he pulled back, hands still lingering in your hair, “I can’t stand the thought of someone else so much as looking at you.”

Instead of scrambling your brain for the right words to respond with, you simply let your body lead and yanked his head back down to capture his lips with your own once more. Soon your tongue was dancing across his as you clawed at each other's bodies in order to get closer to one another. Hands palming the curve of your ass through the thin material of your flowy, floral dress, you let out a breathy yelp as his greedy hands suddenly grew impatient and scooped you up, drawing you that much closer to his warm body. 

Your lips jolted away from his as your back swiftly bumped into something, his stumbling feet haven carried you into one of the stalls. Letting your head rest back against the thin wall, you glanced down at Frank with hooded eyes as he slowly lowered you back down to your feet, letting his touch linger as he did so, gliding his warm palms down your sides and with his eyes locked on yours, gently fiddled with the hem of your dress. 

Goosebumps visible on your tingling skin, your own fingers dug into the fabric at your sides as you slowly hitched it up for him. Your knees nearly buckled as you then saw him sink down onto the cold tile, kneeling before you as he helped you expose yourself to him. 

Keeping his eyes on yours, his scratchy chin tickle your thigh as he began to slowly pepper pecks along your tender flesh and your body fell back against the stall completely. Running his wide palm up along your other leg, soon coming into contact with your underwear, you sucked in a needy breath as his broad thumb skimmed over the wet spot adorning the cotton, pressing down even more fiercely as your hips bucked in search of more. 

Hooking his finger in the fabric as his pillowy lips neared your centre, your pulse impossibly clear in your needy pearl, he tugged your soaked panties to the side and let a desperate groan rumbly deep within his throat as he took in the sight of your glistening folds. 

You clasped your hand over your lips as you felt his tongue began to swipe through your folds, nuzzling closer and bumping the bridge of his nose insistently against your clit as he sloppily made out with your pussy. 

Sinking into the long-yearned-for sensation, gazing down at him in awe, your eyes then grew wide as the sound of the lavatory door opening suddenly found your ears. Freezing up, your knee swiftly bumped his shoulder, pushing him off of you as you clutched your palm even harder against your lips, the summery dress flowing back down around your thighs. 

Not giving the boisterous audience a second thought, Frank simply slammed the stall’s door shut, twisted the lock and rose to his feet. Lower half of his face glossy with your desperation, breathless, he slumped back against the opposite wall and stared at you electrically. 

Your shoulders bounced in a giggle, accompanying the light shake your head offered as you listened to the drunks' conversation and reeled in the ridiculousness of this whole situation you had stumbled into. But when you looked back into Frank’s espresso eyes, it all melted away and you realised just how much you wanted this. You wanted him so much that you didn’t care where it was or who heard. You just wanted him.

Your hand finally dropped from your lips as your eyes too lowered, nearly letting out a whimper as you gazed at the palpable tent in his dark jeans. Absentmindedly, still on the other side of the stall, your deprived hand reached out and grabbed at the air between you. 

Catching your hand in his, your eyes briefly flickered up towards his, catching his cocky smirk before you glanced down again to see his free fingers begin to work at his leather belt, unhurriedly undoing the buckle as he gave your hand a squeeze.

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[planetpiastri]

also sending 13 with bob <33333 -allie

allie help i blacked out and somehow wrote almost 3k. what did u do to me. @spideystevie

13. meeting as the best friends/wingmen/chaperones of their two friends who want to go out together, but not alone

word count: 2.7k

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me to come along,” you muttered, propping your feet up on your best friend’s dashboard.

Rooster glanced sideways at you before going back to anxiously scanning the parking lot. “Me neither,” he admitted, “but I’m so glad you said yes.”

“Remind me of the plan one more time?” you asked.

He held up his fingers and began counting items off. “First, we meet up with Natasha at the Shake Shack.”

“We are at the Shake Shack,” you said.

“Yes. The three of us laugh and play nice for a bit, just to break the ice. Second—or maybe third?—you get up to use the restroom. I don’t know, make up some excuse.”

You rolled your eyes but let him keep going.

“Fourth—wait, or are we still on three?—anyways, fourth, while you’re gone I put the moves on Natasha, maybe invite her to officially do something one-on-one. Fifth, you come back and I’ll give you the signal. Remember the signal?”

You recited, “‘Ready to rock and roll?’ means it’s not going good and we have to go. ‘Living the good life’ means it’s going really well and I should buzz off. You picked such corny catchphrases, man.”

“But you remembered them!” Rooster considered things for a moment before adding another finger. “Sixth, seventh, whatever—profit.”

You hummed sarcastically and turned to look back out the window. It was winter, so it was already completely dark over the Shake Shack as you and Rooster waited for his definitely-not-a-date to show up. Other young people on awkward first outings, as well as large groups of friends, milled about on the open-air tables and greater parking lot, swapping ice cream and fries and having a generally great time. Rooster probably couldn’t have picked a better place to stage this “friendship coup” as he called it—in short, an attempt to get out of the friendzone with Natasha Trace.

You’d only met Natasha a handful of times, but you liked her. You weren’t sure how much you liked her for Bradley, but you also weren’t the type to meddle that deeply into your friend’s love life. And Rooster had been single now for nearly four long, painful years; you thought it would be good for him to get out of his head and get back in the dating game.

“Oh, shit, that’s her!” he hissed suddenly, swatting your arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

You quickly climbed out of the Bronco, following Rooster’s lead as he began to make his way towards the sleek Volkswagen that had just pulled into the lot. The headlights in the Volkswagen shut off and the driver’s side door opened to reveal Natasha, graceful and strong as ever. She broke into a smile as soon as she saw Rooster and leaned against the open frame of her door.

“Hey, Rooster,” she said before her eyes slipped past him and landed on you. They lit up with recognition. “Oh, hey!”

“Hi,” you said, feeling incredibly transparent and awkward. 

“Oh, uh—they just wanted to come with, I started talking about Shake Shack and they were like, ‘oh my god, I want to go!’ So I hope that’s okay,” rambled Rooster.

You glared daggers at the back of Rooster’s head, but Natasha just laughed and nodded. “Yeah, no worries. I mean—I’d be kind of a hypocrite if I said no.”

Rooster laughed. “Haha, yeah—wait, what?”

Natasha bent down into the open door and said, “You can come out, you know.”

The passenger door to the Volkswagen swung open and a man stepped out, and you momentarily forgot that you were in the middle of drilling a hole in the back of Bradley’s head with your eyes.

He was tall and lean, with short blonde hair combed back out of his face. He was wearing glasses, but even in the dim light of the parking lot you could make out wide, blue eyes and a shy, kind expression on his face. He glanced nervously around the group: first at Natasha, then at Rooster, then back to Natasha, and then to you, where they stayed.

“This is Bob,” said Natasha. “I figured it’d be okay if he tagged along with us, too.”

Your mind had stuttered to a halt, but if there was one thing to be said about Rooster, he was quick on his feet. “Yeah, definitely! Nice to meet you, Bob. Hey, I just remembered I left my wallet in my car like an idiot.” He pinned you with a sharp look. “Can you come grab it with me?”

You only considered arguing for maybe half a second before tearing your eyes away from Bob and sighing, “Yeah, let’s go. Be right back, guys. Meet you at the shack?”

“Sounds good!” called Natasha as you and Rooster began to jog away.

Rooster yanked open the driver’s side door of the Bronco and bent over the seat for pure formalities, because he knew as well as you did that the outline of his brown leather wallet was prominent and very obvious in his back pocket.

“She brought one too!” he hissed at the gas pedal.

You looked up at the sky, asking anyone listening to please, please, send you help. Then you said, “So?”

“So that throws a bit of a spanner in the works!”

“Does it?”

He straightened up, waving a pad of brown napkins in your direction. “Yes! Is that her way of telling me this is a strictly-friends situation? Is Bob my competition? What message am I meant to receive here?”

“Maybe the message that she felt the same way that you did about this little hang-out and brought along a safety net?” you offered. “Please stop waving those napkins at me, Bradley.”

“Right, sorry.” He tossed them into the backseat, where they scattered like confetti, and you fought back a shiver of disgust. “So what do I do?”

You cocked your head at him. “I don’t know, Rooster. Maybe…go hang out with her? And stop stalling at your car?”

Rooster blinked. “Fuck. You’re right. Let’s roll out.”

When you arrived at the front counter, Bob and Natasha still hadn’t ordered. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the menu, and you took a moment to try and decipher their body language: her arms were folded, his loose and relaxed; she would periodically tap her hip against his, less in a manner that tried to get his attention and more out of casual familiarity; when they spoke to each other, they didn’t turn their heads, just spoke out of the sides of their mouths and trusted the other to catch it.

In all honesty, they reminded you a lot of you and Bradley. The thought made you feel strangely…relieved, but you couldn’t figure out why exactly.

Bob noticed you and Rooster first, turning and smiling. He met your eyes, but then looked away just as quickly.

“Hi,” you said, stepping up next to him and introducing yourself. “Sorry about before. I swear, he’d lose his head if it wasn’t screwed on.”

“Yeah, I’ve gathered,” chuckled Bob before blinking. “Oh, I just mean—Natasha’s told me—I’ve heard that Bradley can be—”

“You’re good,” you interrupted swiftly. “I love him, but he’s an idiot.”

Bob smiled that quick, nervous smile again before turning back to the menu board. “Okay. Do you know what you’re gonna get?”

You nodded. “They do a killer float here.”

Bob glanced at you in surprise. “You don’t get shakes at the Shake Shack?”

“You do?” you countered.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a Shake Shack.”

You found yourself laughing. “Okay then, wise guy, educate me!”

“I’m gonna change your life,” promised Bob, stepping up to the counter and ordering two peanut-butter fudge milkshakes. When you tried to pull out your own wallet, he put out a hand to stop you. 

“I’m perfectly capable—” you started.

“Please. What kind of teacher would I be if I made my student pay for their own school supplies?”

You snorted with laughter, turning to share an amused look with Rooster before realizing in a panic that you’d been so caught up talking with Bob that you’d lost track of both Natasha and Rooster. You swore under your breath, stepping away from the counter and looking back and forth for where they’d gone. He’d asked you to be his wingman because he was nervous, and you’d already messed it up!

Bob stepped up next to you, two milkshakes in hand. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Where’d they go?” you asked, still looking around the patio and the parking lot.

Bob slurped loudly at one of the shakes for a moment before saying, “She said something about stealing him away to play mini golf across the street. Must be what happened.”

You whirled around to face him. “You guys had a game plan?”

His cheeks colored and he didn’t meet your eyes. “Yeah. She was nervous. That’s why I’m here.” He squinted at you. “Did you guys have a game plan?”

You bit your lip, realizing you’d been caught. “Yes,” you said softly.

“There we go, then,” said Bob, holding out the second shake. “Even Stevens.”

You took it from him and worked your straw up and down, trying to mix it. “Well, then what are we supposed to do while they play mini golf?”

Bob did meet your eyes then, fixating you in place with that impressive cobalt stare. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and a warm flush began to spread out from your throat. You hoped against hope he couldn’t tell in the darkness.

Bob said, “Wait for them to get back, I guess.”

You led the way back to Rooster’s car, where you retrieved the spare key that only you knew about from its spot in the front wheel well. You and Bob worked together to lower the small tailgate of the Bronco, and then Bob helped lift you up onto it. You both sat there, hip to hip: you, swinging your legs over the empty space; him, keeping his calmingly still.

“I can’t believe they ditched us,” you said around the straw wedged between your lips.

Bob moved his straw up and down, just like you’d done before. You tried not to stare at his hands. He said, “I don’t know. This was kind of best-case-scenario for how tonight could have gone.” He smiled. “Imagine the four of us wedged in a cramped diner booth, watching both of them fail to flirt.”

“Ugh, good point,” you said. “Not that it’s any of my business, but—you and Natasha? Just friends, then? She’s here for Bradley?”

Bob made a strangled noise, somewhere between a snort and a raspberry. “No,” he said. “Just friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

You took another sip of your shake before setting it down behind you. “I don’t know, that can be kind of romantic sometimes.”

“Natasha and I are not romantically engaged,” he said, enunciating clearly. “She’s here because she wants to see how things go with Bradley.” He paused. “Besides, I’ve heard stories—how do I know you and him aren’t secretly pining for each other?”

You pretended to gag. “Ew, no thanks. He’s practically my brother.”

“See, it’s weird!” laughed Bob. “You’re not allowed to make fun of me!”

“I’m not!” you laughed back. “You made your point. I’m sorry.”

You both smiled, a comfortable silence falling over the backseat of the Bronco. The nerves of the night were starting to wear off, and you found yourself shivering in the cool winter air. When you reached behind you to grab the blanket Rooster kept stashed in the back seat, Bob helped wrap it tight around your shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to fight back that shy flush of warmth that threatened to overtake you again.

A few more minutes of quiet stretched out in front of the two of you, and you finally sighed, buzzing your lips and trying to fill the silence. “Now what?” you asked, starting to swing your legs again.

“How do you know Bradley?” Bob asked, leaning back and resting his head against the back of the headrest.

You turned, arching an eyebrow. “Twenty questions? Really?”

He laughed. “If you’ve got other ideas on how to kill time, I’m all ears.”

You rolled your eyes again, turning to face forward and letting an amused giggle escape your lips. “Okay, fine. But that’s not how twenty questions works. You have to work up to the deep shit.”

Bob pulled one leg up onto the tailgate, lacing his fingers around his knee. “Okay, wise one,” he teased. “Educate me, then. You go first.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Seven. How do you know Bradley?”

You burst out laughing, grabbing onto his arm to keep yourself upright as he snickered, obviously pleased with himself. When Rooster and Natasha came back, you were both still giggling, but over a different twenty-questions-inspired joke. You didn’t even know how much time had passed—apparently enough for at least one game of mini golf to be completely finished.

“You guys look like you’re having fun,” said Natasha with a smile.

“Hey, guys,” you said. “How was mini golf?”

“Good,” said Rooster, swapping a look with Natasha. “Fun. I lost.”

“No surprise, there,” you teased, and Bob chuckled.

Rooster lifted his eyebrows at you. “Thanks for that. You ready to head out?”

You sat up quickly, letting the blanket fall away from your shoulders. “Oh, yeah, sure. We can head out. Is this a rock-and-roll situation?”

Rooster shook his head but didn’t say anything, so you figured he was withholding a lot of things that he wanted your opinion on. You stifled a sigh and shifted off of the Bronco, stretching your legs as Bob stood up next to you. As he shuffled closer to Natasha—presumably to ask how her date was—you leaned back into the cab and grabbed your mostly-full milkshake, holding it out to Bob.

When he took it, his brow furrowed in confusion and he reached up to adjust his glasses. “You didn’t have any?”

“I had a couple sips,” you said defensively. “You can finish it.”

“But—you—I—”

You grimaced and whispered, “I don’t like peanut butter in my milkshakes. But I can pay you back!”

“This is the most embarrassing moment of my life,” said Bob, and you were only half-sure he was being sarcastic. “Don’t worry about the money. We’ll just have to come back and get floats next time.”

As soon as he realized what he’d said, his whole face lit up bright pink. You saw Natasha and Rooster’s eyebrows fly into their hairlines at the same time. You grinned, unable to stop the quiet laugh that bubbled out of you as you nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess we will. I’ll see you around, Bob.”

“See you,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as he and Natasha began to slowly make their way back to her Volkswagen. She grabbed his sleeve, giving him a firm and teasing shake, and you grinned at the sight before turning and closing the tailgate back up and moving to the passenger seat.

“So,” you said as Rooster turned the key in the ignition, “how was it?”

He made a ‘kaputz’ gesture with his hand and blew a raspberry.

Your face fell. “Oh no. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he explained, turning and backing out of his parking spot. “I guess that’s kind of why it’s a no-go. I think we’re just better as friends. And I think I’m actually okay with that.”

You smiled and nudged him on the arm when he paused to shift gears. “I’m proud of you, Bradshaw.”

He scoffed and shook his head. You sat back in your seat, prepared for a nice, quiet drive home, when Rooster suddenly leaned across the center console, shoving his face into your personal space. “How was your night, hmm?”

“Oh my god, go away, you freak!” you giggled, shoving at him. “None of your business!”

He sat up and pulled out of the parking lot, laughing and sending you a knowing look that made you want to explode. “The truth will out,” he said, “and by that I mean I’m gonna text Natasha later and get all the details. So which side of the story do you want me to hear?”

“His,” you said. “Definitely his.”

Rooster laughed again and you kicked your feet back up on his dashboard, pressing your knuckles to your mouth as you turned to look out the window. A pleased, heady fog had settled over your brain, and you felt like giggling for no real reason at all. The night had no more biting chill left, and your fingers smelled like chocolate and peanut butter.

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Another lovely year in this wonderful fandom. Here’s a little recap of how my year went:

My Writing:

Depth of Reason - Mature - 70k

How to Avoid a Scandal - Teen - 43k

Episode 3: The Diplomat, A Star Trek Redemption story - Teen - 13.5k

This list is much shorter than my list of fics written in 2022, but my fics last year were much shorter. Also, this word count is deceptive, because I wrote about 22k of Depth of Reason last year and about 20k of How to Avoid a Scandal last year as well. But! My writing goals this year were to finish these two WIPs and not take on any other projects until they were finished and I very nearly did that! Took on two projects (and more below), but I still finished these before the year finished, so pretty good!

Total words:

About 83k. Last year was more like 120k.

Other works:

Podfic of Petrichor - Teen - 34 minutes

Themes:

Finishing long works apparently! One was for my 2022 COBB and the other for my 2022 CORB. Even though these were started last year, they are the longest things I wrote since my first fic (49k) back in the second half of 2021.

Also, trying new things! Writing sci-if and recording a podfic felt very outside my wheelhouse at the time, but ultimately, I’m glad I went for it.

Top 10 fics I read in 2023:

Someone Wicked - Explicit - 60k by @artsyunderstudy

Three Months or 3,000 Miles - Gen - 3k by @larkral and art by @theimpossibledemon

Blood, Salt and Hummingbirds - Teen - 32k by @hushed-chorus

Restoration Ecology - The REmix (Baz’s version) - Explicit - 62k by @royalasstronaut

Good at Something - Explicit - 19k by @larkral

A Gift From the Propheseals - Mature - 6.5k by @skeedelvee with art by @letraspal

What Remains After the Storm - Mature - 86k by @hushed-chorus art by @erzbethluna

To Do, to Know, to Want - Mature - 8.5k by @facewithoutheart

Mishaps on Zoom - Explicit - 10k by @eelwinks

Swords Into Plowshares - Teen - 6.5k by @ileadacharmedlife

WIPs I’m excited to keep reading in 2024:

I Knew A Boy, I Knew A Man - Teen, by @shrekgogurt

Hiding Out In The Open - Mature, by @cutestkilla

A Little Bit Deadly- Explicit, by @emeryhall

Basil Pitch’s Diary - Teen, by @bookish-bogwitch

Other notable fandom things:

I helped to run @carryon-reverse-bang again with @angelsfalling16 as well as helped to put on a new event this year, @caught-on-tape-fest with @cutestkilla and @sillyunicorn

I met up with fandom friends while on a trip this past summer. Making personalized friendship bracelets as gifts, doing fic readings and crafts, and putting on our own Lady Ruth style tea party were some of my fave moments <3

I did a book club style reread of some of my fave fics with friends. I hope we do a few more in 2024!

It’s safe to say I engaged with this fandom everyday of 2023. I might get quiet on the main Discord server or Tumblr, but I’m certain I read, reblogged, wrote, DMd or otherwise participated in some way, shape or form throughout the entirety of the year.

Goals for 2024:

Read more fic! This fandom has such a wealth of works, my TBR list is a mile long and isn’t organized. I’d like to formally rework my AO3 bookmarks to exclusively show recs and either utilize the Marked for Later function or make a spreadsheet or something to better organize a proper TBR list so i don’t lose track of what I want to read next. Currently, having a dozen tabs open on my phone and another dozen on my iPad doesn’t really work well. If anyone has a brilliant system you’d suggest, please enlighten me!

I also want to read all of my physical canon books this year. I’ve only ever listened to the audiobooks! I’m currently reading my anniversary edition of Fangirl. (I think this is the prettiest book I’ve ever owned.) Up next, the Fangirl Manga, followed by the trilogy and Snow for Christmas.

More fandom meet ups! Already planning for June…

I don’t have any writing plans currently, so we shall see if/what I decide to create. I have a few ideas rolling around in my head, but nothing I’ve felt urged to put down in words. I’m sure I’ll write something, I just don’t know what it’ll be yet.

[0creativity0]

Since the year is coming to an end and I'm not posting anything until January, I thought it'd be fun to do a little recap of the fics I've written and go through whatever I've managed to do this year. So, let's go!

Here's my 2024 on AO3:

This year, I've published 94,779 words. This number does not include any drafts or anything, but I know I wrote a lot of words in unpublished works too, because I've been working on some long projects. In my notes I have literal dozens of nearly finished one shots, and the plans for a work that's proving to be much harder and longer to write than Rot, which is my second longest published work right now and will be my longest published work as soon as 2025 comes, since it's less than 3k words shorter than Umbrella as of right now (wow). In my AO3 drafts alone I have a four parts work that's 24,856 words long and not yet finished, so that gives an idea.

To recap my interactions, I've gotten 31 subscription, 28 of which are on my user and not works (which is weird), 350 kudos, 109 bookmarks and 6,042 hits. And way too many comment threads because I respond to everybody because it's the best part of actually sharing what you write in my opinion. I'm pretty cool with those numbers. They're great!

Anyway, now for the 2024 podium:

My most kudo-ed work this year is:

This one might actually not be true anymore in a few hours. It has just two kudos more than my second most kudo-ed work, so this could change at any moment. I really hope this one stays first though, because I actually really like it. It's not revolutionary but it's fun, and I liked writing it a lot too. I like knowing it was appreciated, and I like knowing it's technically the most renowned thing I wrote this year.

My most read work this year is:

Makes sense that it'd be this one that garnered the most hits, since it's sort of long and finished. I don't mind it too, I liked writing The Sixth Stage. All the way through I was like "wow I'm actually kind of nailing this". It felt nice, principally after finishing Umbrella which I felt like shit about, and what feels even better is I still like it. The pacing is great, I think! Which is insane because I usually, notoriously suck at pacing. I definitely was on something though, killing off so many characters. Fun fact on this one, actually. I recently got a commenter on Wattpad (kindly) cursing me out for murdering them all, just being like "no fucking way", and that was very fun.

My favorite work I've written this year is:

I had so much fun with this character study-ish one shot, even though it sort of flopped lmao. I don't care, it was great. I really love writing Killua, he's so fun. It's a challenge but one I'm willing to take, simply because the answers come to me with difficulty, but they come naturally. Which maybe explains why they're such weird takes. Anyhow, I'd been cooking this up for so long before I shared it, and there are some cheesy things and mess ups I'd rewrite to fix, but I like keeping things as my past self had intended for them to be, so that I can admire my evolution in the future. It's gonna suck anyway, I know nothing about what I'm doing.

And, last but not least, the longest work I've written this year (and I have yet to finish it) is:

I don't know how to feel about Rot. 35,304 published words, dozens of deleted chapters, pages and pages of my school notebooks engraved with fanfiction and 49 samsung notes with thousands of words each. Pure devotion. Some chapters I love, some chapters I hate. Chapter ten is amazing and I'm so excited to share it yet chapter nine makes me want to fall asleep and never wake up. Sometimes it's the easiest thing to write, sometimes it's a genuine nightmare. Again, chapters nine and ten. I will finish it, there's no doubting that, but my plans keep changing and it's messing up my sleep schedule.

Overall, statistics always make me feel like shit. They make me feel like I haven't done enough. Take last year, for example. I made nearly 1.3K kudos last year, even though I started posting last year, which means I hadn't built an "audience" at all yet.

What taking a look back through my biggest successes of the year made me realize is that, even though I sort of suck, I'm still prouf of myself. Most of what I've mentioned here, I like. I tend to forget that and focus on the part of me that regrets numbers, and that's why this little post feels so necessary for me to make.

Of course these numbers (hit numbers and stuff) will change slightly before the end of the year, but I feel this is close enough.

Anyway. Happy new year to everyone. It's coming quick quick quick, and I need to get back to studying if I actually want a job in the future!

I might do a 2023 resume some day, just to take me back in time.

[uchihaharlot]

CEO! AU Where their employee is too naive about innuendo 😅

Too pure and these guys wreck her during a personal "meeting" in their office.

(Separate scenarios please 🙏)

Me dearest moot,

I apologize this took me so long. 😅 I find it hard to write ooc scenes, but then again everything written outside the Narutoverse is considered ooc. So I just rolled with it, didn’t feel it at first. Sat on it, went back edited it — added more and hopefully the outcome is to your standards.

I truly am committed to writing almost any ask that is sent my way.

I do apologize, this got lengthy. I cannot not write anything less than 3k it seems when in the mood. Lmao. I give you smut with minor plot, because I love a bit of backstory and I adore characters that have a familiarity between them or some fluffy shit like that.

(When I wrote this, I was not aware of your preference for Itachi at the time. Shisui CEO was already in the works. Honestly am not entirely convinced this is good. I would be willing to do Itachi in a separate ask, I just didn’t want this to be like 15k of figuring my shit out).

NSFW; airhead-ish intern; smut w/plot; praise kink; oral; vaginal; unprofessional work environment; sex at work; Enjoy!

wc: an exorbitant fucking 3.4k; fuck and I’m not editing it much more right now. Will go back, I just felt like the worlds biggest piece of shit for taking so long lol

As fresh blood in the world of accounting, credentials meant everything. Especially if you want roll with the big boys. Which is why when accepting an internship nearly six months ago from the most prestigious accounting firm, you didn’t hesitate to accept. It would look good on your resume and if lucky enough, you’d be offered a job and avoid the hassle of sending out hundreds of applications.

So far things have been mild and mundane.

Coffee this, tea that. Dry cleaning. You hardly even made an appearance into the conference room except on few occasions.

Today was one of those days your presence was requested. Shisui Uchiha, CEO, owner and founder of Tomoe LLC. An accounting firm for high profiled clients.

Yea, your designated boss was that guy.

The one who made tabloids left and right with his fuck you money and all. The guy who probably had every woman in the office, including yourself, humid and longing. Didn’t even have to try, and there was no lying. How unfortunate you had the hots for him. Regardless of your stance, you retained the upmost professionalism in his presence.

When Shisui walks into the conference room, all eyes are on him. Composed, clean cut and admirable. As an intern your job is to take minute notes, jot ideas he spouts off and anything of importance. At the end of his hour and a half long ramble. Everyone is dismissed.

‘Except you.’ Words you didn’t really expect, but nonetheless did as you were told.

Once the room is cleared, Shisui’s gaze catches yours. Sharp and observant, you felt under the microscope of his heavy dark eyed gaze. ‘I need your help on something.’

Which was great, usually.

This is what you’re here for. If it was coffee, you’d fetch it. If it was picking his dog up from the groomers, that too. You got to use his shiny new car, which was a treat. He made sure you knew nobody before you had that privilege.

‘I’m listening, Uchiha-san.’ Submissive and severely cute as you retained his attention. Even if unintentional, it made his eyes flicker whenever you called him that and he straightened up a bit. A smug grin on his face.

Ever the good girl.

Shisui taps at your laptop, quickly you open its notebook app, ready to record his thoughts. ‘I want you to draft your own document on project of your choosing. Consider it a ‘review.’ How can you make this company grow?’

Oh, it was one of those reviews. The preliminary ‘give me your thoughts and maybe you can have a job’ situation. He continues, ‘on one condition… meet me in my office after work. And we’ll discuss it more personally.’

‘Anything specific I should focus on?’ It wasn’t confusing, but you had the sense there was something particular he was looking for.

He smiles and gazes over you. Shisui always said he appreciated your tenacity and go-getter attitude. ‘Just whatever comes to mind; nothing too serious…..when you write this document, just remember it's for me. It should be tailored to suggestions you think I would….be interested in.’

‘Right, for you…for the company.’ You sheepishly smile back. Why was the room hot, why did your stomach disappear and leave you feeling sick almost. Not in a terrible way, but well….no. He’s your damned boss!!

‘Good girl.’ Something crawled up your spine when he said those words. Your body treasonously gushed, and it was hard not to flush warm in the cheeks. ‘Make sure to send this off before you stop by my office. It would be…beneficial for me to know before we further discuss this in a personal setting.’

A personal setting. After work.

You weren’t stupid by any means, part of you truly believed your boss was hitting on you and the other half was partial to the fact Shisui just knew how to get what he wanted. So, for the last few hours of your day, you focused on real issues within the company. You didn’t want to insult him, but there were things that could improve the numbers and have an impact. Small minute details you picked up the last few months. The document was sent off the last half hour of the day before you walked down to the elevator and took it three floors up to where the higher-ranking individuals in the company were stationed.

Maybe you could be up here. Maybe your ideas would actually mean something. A small smile spreads your face before you knock on his office door.

When Shisui opens the door, he immediately steps aside and motions for you to enter. That’s good sign, right? His gaze lingers as you take in the office that you see maybe three times a month. Your actual duties are handed down to the secretary on your floor directly from him.

A soft click of the door closing has your nerves striking flint at one another.

‘I like how you took this assignment so seriously….’ Taking a seat at his desk, hands folded together. He takes her in.

‘You’re not offended?’ Of course not! The numbers didn’t lie, you had found a hole in his company’s bottomline. Money was being filtered out. If anything, he was grateful you did this so thoroughly.

Shisui’s eyes seem almost piercing, ‘I’m not offended at all. In fact, it’s impressive. Very impressive….now exactly how did you figure this out?’

Oh, that was a toughie. It was by accident, really, you explain. Within the first few weeks of your internship, you were granted access to classified information. Unsure if this was even allowed, you figured that if a potential job was to be had. You needed to know the numbers. Unfortunately for Shisui, undoubtedly, someone was stealing money from him. He had his suspicions prior to your upheaval, but no real way of confirming without causing the perpetrator to become aware. Aside from that it was intricately encrypted, meaning you were incapable of providing further details of who.

Shisui eyes you the whole time, his unwavering gaze felt unkind almost, but sincere. ‘So, you were just casually going through the inflow and outflow. Just so happen to discover…. money missing?’

You exhale heavily, this sounded like it could backfire. ‘Y-yes. I’m sorry if that was a breach of my contract, I figured if I was granted access—’

Shisui’s light chuckle interrupts you, a sort of calm, almost relieved feeling washes down your nerves. ‘You’re fine, I admire your determination and commitment to this company. It seems I can’t trust everyone here…’

‘I suggest, if you’re open to it…. calling tech support, they might be able…’ the words hit your face from the floor. Someone in tech support would be the perfect position to lay low and hide or dispose of backlogs. Shisui quirks an eyebrow at your acute observation. ‘Tech support would be able to see behind all of that.’

At first, he is surprised, then perturbed. Tech support would be capable of seeing behind the encryption or worse. Creating it. Leaning back in his chair, he folds his hands under to his chin. ‘A smart observation….that is….unfortunate. For them, if so.’ A hint of admiration in his voice has you smiling at his praise.

Shisui can’t help but stare at you for a moment. That smile is adorable, even more when you’re not completely flustered by him. When you’re almost comfortable in his presence. ‘You’re a very sharp girl…and you have a good grasp of this business despite being just an intern….’

‘It’s nothing….really. I was just…trying to get on top of the game.’ A soft shrug is all you manage. What else could you say? Now wasn’t the time to toot your own horn.

Shisui leans forward in his chair. He can't help but notice you’re a still bit shy, reserved and overtly quiet in his presence. More times often than not are you loud and boisterous with the friends you’ve made here. Something lurches in the back of his mind; his tone of voice softens.

‘I’d like to commend you for your efforts. You’ve outdone yourself and even figured out someone is potentially funneling money from me.’ He pauses briefly, ‘just out of curiosity though….why did you accept this internship?’

The harsh truth resurfaced with a prejudice. You were bitter the first few weeks, though you were grateful for this opportunity here. Not a word back from a single firm within the five great nations when you sought them out. It was nearly a month later after you had sent out the portfolio did Shisui’s firm respond. ‘You were the only firm to return interest and extend an offer.’

This was not something Shisui expected to hear. It disheartened him and left a foul taste in his mouth. Surely other firms would have been interested. He hadn’t sent a reply as quickly beforehand. Thinking you would take an opportunity in another country. Most people wanted to leave their home cities; he responded solely on the fact he was too eager in his selection for you. The portfolio, while small, was exceptional. Organized and precise. His stubbornness made him hold off but the business side of him does what’s best for itself.

He had to have you, to see the woman behind the mind. Even if you weren’t the spectacular woman before him, he still would have hired you. He wasn’t discriminatory in that matter, only if you would be beneficial to the firm. He knew from the initial interview that you would be, it was just a bonus that you were drop dead gorgeous.

‘No other company reached out?’ The irritation in his voice was severe and brought blasphemy in his eyes.

The hardened look on his face softens once more as you continue, ‘I was shocked to receive your extension to interview.’

Another unexpected answer. Shisui didn’t expect that the other internships went unanswered, but he never once turned down the free labor hours of an internship. There wasn’t a damn thing that made you unworthy of a position here. Intelligent, well calculated….submissive. You did every thing he threw at you from silly errands he couldn’t be fucked with, to listening to him bitch about Genma’s vacation in the Land of Tea being two weeks.

‘So here I am. Almost the six month review. I was hoping that this recent development would…be a retainer for a full time position…’ the words taper off. Hearing how silly you were.

Scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours was not at the forefront of your mind.

But it was his and, well, the funny thing is. Shisui’s back, is on his cock. That’s exactly the kind of back scratching he was referring to earlier when he asked for you to come up with a minor presentation for him. He figured this one wouldn’t fly over the crows nest, but it had. You didn’t quiet catch his intentions.

He would just have to be more…direct.

A small smile spreads his face, the fact that you were just so bashful with your request. Shisui rounds his desk quickly, his hands at your forearms. Sights sharp with intent. Deep baritone grows soft when he addresses you, ‘consider me impressed.’

You quickly dial in at his hands holding you so, so intimately. ‘Why?’ Is that really all you can manage? Though you didn’t understand, ‘why do I impress you? I did something that someone else should have been doing.’ Your brows pinch.

Shisui doesn’t answer right away, he takes the time to consider you. He thumbs small circles on your left arm, as if he is trying to properly convey the words of adoration without scaring you off. ‘You’re right, I should have someone doing this. I am just impressed you were that person when it should have been someone more experienced in this company.’

‘But…?’ Waiting for it. For the let down of not having a position here.

Shisui runs a hand through his hair, the other still on your left arm, ‘this is the first time I’ve ever thought about extending a full-time position to an intern in awhile. But…from now on, you will not be an intern…’ a pregnant pause makes the air thick and stale for a moment. ‘You’ll be my assistant.’

‘Assistant?’ That wasn’t working with numbers, ‘that’s not…numbers or anything close to it…’

Shisui’s laugh fills his chest and reverberates in his throat stopping at a light hum, the grip on your forearm tightens a little to capture your undivided attention wholly. ‘Do not worry. I never said that you would stop working with numbers. That will still be part of your position here. But, moreover, I want your input on other aspects of this company. Marketing, communication, etc. a more….intimate experience at my side.’

You gawk. ‘How can you consider that from a near bare portfolio. I surely haven’t worked my weight in ryo here, not even close.’

In this moment, you look adorable to Shisui. Exasperated and uncertain. Almost undeserving. ‘You’re forgetting exactly why I chose you for the internship. I knew from the moment I interviewed you that you were a very sharp young lady. My trust in your abilities has grown exponentially these past few months, and hence…this new position for you.’

A soft click of your tongue, it was all coming full circle now. ‘This sounds like a curated position that was just made up.’

Shisui’s lips curl into a devious smile, that slips below subtle smirk. He narrows his eyes a bit, those eyes ever intense and drinking you up like the finest whiskey. That calm and composed side of Shisui is replaced by a commanding and dominant presence. Unholy even.

‘Uchiha-san?’ A sharp exhale as Shisui snakes a hand around her waist.

He brings you flush to his chest, running a hand through your hair. Drags his nose along your jaw and up to your cheek before his lips stop at your ear. Hot and raspy, Shisui’s intentions are more than clear. You notice how tall he really is, just towering over you. How much older he is too.

‘What…are you doing?’ A whispered hiss of astonishment at his direct approach.

‘What do you think I am dong?’ Sweet like honey, his voice is deep. Commanding. Possessive.

‘I’m partial to believe this is not in my job description….’ Your soft breath fans the his cheek as he rakes a hand up the nape of your neck.

‘I never suggested it was….’ The words send shivers down your spine, his thumb traces down your cheekbone. His warm breath smells sweet, you know this is not appropriate. Against policy. And as much as you’d hate to admit it.

You enjoyed it. ‘Then what is this for?’

You graze your nose in return over his cheek, the boldness amuses Shisui. How much did you like this? ‘This is part of the perks that come with your new job. If you haven’t noticed by now… I tend to enjoy your company.’

Well no, you didn’t notice. Not until now, ‘no, how could I when I’m hardly doing as an intern should?’ That was cute.

The small moan from your lips is even more adorable as Shisui dragged his lips down your neck. Delirium filled your head space, this was moving too fast. Before you knew it your tight pencil skirt was shucked to above your hips and you were laid on his desk.

Subservient to his desire, fueled by your own deplorable greed within. You could just let Shisui have his way with you, not that you saw it this way. Sex was currency, was also free and felt fucking good. The part of you that may or may not have fantasized this exact scenario unfolding was in charge now.

Spread out, legs over his shoulders holding his head in a vice squeeze. How did it get far this fast? Nose in your heat, lapping and twirling his tongue over your clit. Fingers curling in the confines of your taut muscles. Muscles that ached for it; were drenched for him. If your knocked a few things off his desk, Shisui would forgive you. This was the reason why he’d drawn you in after hours, the sounds you made were no less than a few doors in range: if anyone was still here after hours. They’d hear and pretend they didn’t the next day.

When his cock stretched you, molded you to him. He reamed a hand around your neck and pressed your back into the keyboard. Every time you came close to coming, he squeezed and stopped thrusting. Making you writhe and submit further to him.

‘..please.’ Your desperate whimper.

‘Please..what?’

Those soft eyes of yours caught his attention, ‘..please let me come Uchiha-san.’

He kissed you sweetly, but fucked you like an office whore as you came all over him. ‘Such a good girl…’ rang your ears every so often as he softly panted out between thrusts. Shisui flipped you to your stomach once you succumbed to his relentless pounding. Wrung his hand in your hair and craned your neck back to expose the delicate flesh. Nipping your pulse point, he sheath himself once more. Slower, needier. On the verge of filling your sweet hole with his genetic markup. Gripping your waist to steady your body, he whispered many things of promise if you accepted his job offer.

His bed, car and money. What on earth had gotten into this man? Shisui couldn’t figure out for himself exactly what he was saying either, but it was all forgotten the split second your salacious whimper and saying you were coming again. Had his hips steam rolling and slamming into you harder. Pumping his thinking length as he coated your insides. Holding your back to his chest as you both moaned out loud.

Surely, this was unprofessional. The entire time you fixed your clothes, you expected him to rescind his decision. That didn’t happen. Not when he fixed his tie, adjusted your skirt and covered you with his coat. Not once did his resolve change as you both walked out the dark office and got out of the elevator. He took you to dinner, paid an extraordinary amount of money for too little food and ushered you home. Opened your door and lead you by the small of your back to your front door and gave you a chaste kiss.

‘See you in the morning, ill be here at 6:30am’ It was fully decided by now that you did have a a full time position now, and he handed you a check for the firsts three months salary, and then some that had your head spinning.

‘This is unnecessary..’ It was money that you’d only ever seen on paper, let alone now held in your hands.

‘Consider it a bonus, and a reward.’ Shisui lifted your chin, and kissed your cheek.

You watched as he waited for you to go inside of your apartment, then he left.

[heloflor]

Ok so for about a good two-three months now I had a post in my drafts about how I realized I ship Powser, and long story short I started comparing Bowser to what I think to be how most villains in media interact with their damsel in distress if they express “love” for them. Issue is, I don’t have nearly enough knowledge/examples on this topic to know how truthful this comparison is, but said comparison is also the main thing tying this post together. So when thinking of ways to remove this element while still having all the same info in this post, I kind of came up short. Plus, I like the way the post is structured as is.

In other words, here’s the post as I originally wrote it, but be aware that the comparison is probably very flawed. Maybe there’s some truth to it, probably not. In any case, just focus on the Powser side of it, the villain comparison is just there for the structure. Enjoy! (long post ahead, a bit over 3k words)

So I recently realized that I really like Powser which I did NOT expect given I’m usually much more of a “friends to lovers” type of person, and trying to understand why I like it led me to think about how villains tend to be presented in their relationship with the “damsel in distress”, and it’s actually very interesting when you compare it to Bowser.

TL;DR: Unlike most villains who showcase sexual attraction (I think?), Bowser is shown to be romantically attracted to Peach. And while his actions are still very much shitty and should be seen as such, man is he adorable sometimes ! Plus, the way his feelings are shown to be genuine makes him look better than most villains, whose “love” for their victim is portrayed as """creepy lust""" by their medias.

(Obviously there is absolutely nothing inherently wrong with sexual attraction. I’m talking in the context of medias that sometimes tend to vilify it, especially when it comes to the antagonists, hence the language used in this post.)

So the first thing that came in mind while thinking of other villains was Dis//ney’s Alad//din (the 90s/animated one) and how Jaf/ar treats Jasm/ine at the end of the movie, more specifically when he wishes for her to fall in love with him and she ends up pretending to be as a distraction.

Thing is, Jasm/ine doesn’t act like she’s in love with Jaf/ar, she acts like she’s thirsting for him, and the way Jaf/ar reacts shows that this is pretty much what he had in mind when saying he wants her to love him. This isn’t love, it’s lust.

Now, I can’t say I’m someone who watches a lot of movies, especially not live-actions ones, so take what I’m about to say with a huge grain of salt. Basically, I kinda feel like what we see in Alad/din is the norm when it comes to villain/victim relationships? Like you have those antagonists who want the damsel in distress to be horny for them, who don’t see those women as people and don’t give a shit about them, only keeping them to get what they want out of them and having no issue discarding them afterwards if they get bored with those poor girls.

Btw that’s not to say that every single villain who kidnaps someone wants to sleep with them. But when it comes to villains who claim to love their victim, there does seem to be at least some sexual tension here, or at least some uncomfortable touches.

And then there’s Bowser. To give a few examples of what he does:

- In that one 1986 anime movie thing, he gets very soft around Peach, gushing about how he’s in love with her and wants to marry her, trying to cheer her up when she’s sad, and let’s not forget that “it’s more of a bracelet, shows that my love is bigger” line with the ring.

- In the mainline “platformers” games, you have “Mario Sunshine” in which Bowser wants his son to have a mother, and “Mario Odyssey” in which he tries to marry Peach, going around the world gathering all the absolute best things for the wedding. There’s also the New Bros U intro with Bowser gently moving Peach’s chair, making sure she doesn’t get hurt by his attack, showing he doesn’t want to hurt her.

- Not sure exactly if this counts as this could be a form of objectification, but you know that cliché of villains getting that all-powerful thing they wanted and immediately betraying/discarding all the people they worked with and/or claimed to love? Well, in the Galaxy games, Bowser gets the power to create a whole new universe, and yet still takes the time to capture Peach, claiming in the first game that he wants her to rule along with him. Again, this could be a form of objectification, especially when looking at his dialogue in the intro of the second game, but it’s still interesting how Bowser doesn’t really fall on that trope, still having his army and Junior on top of Peach (btw the intro of Galaxy 2 is very funny on that front because Bowser literally has enormous powers and yet still makes a detour for Peach, thus causing Mario to be on his tail. Like, let her go dude, she’s not that into you. You got all the powers of the universe, who cares about that one specific woman when you could have literally anybody else?).

- In the first Paper Mario game, Bowser tells Peach that he would fulfill her wishes if she wants (as long as he likes them) and gushes in his diary about how he hopes Peach likes him. And in Thousand Years Doors, he keeps trying to look for her upon hearing she got kidnapped.

- In Super Paper Mario, he gets overjoyed about the wedding but still immediately shows worry for Peach when Nastasia uses her mind control on her, and in general Bowser spends the game clearly loving being able to call Peach his wife, and joins the team again in 7-2 out of concern for her safety. Same with 8-1 where for all he knows he’s about to die and yet his main concern is her safety, to the point where he's willing to ask Mario to protect her for him. His priority is not being with Peach, instead it's Peach being safe.

- In Color Splash, the first thing he does when first getting back to himself during the fight is ask if Mario brought Peach with him.

- In Origami King, he doesn’t want her to see him as a wet floor sign and later asks Olly if Peach is safe and comfortable, which as I’ve seen pointed out implies that him capturing Peach is mostly a forced vacation/sleepover until Mario arrives and she’s put on the spot for show.

(- In general Paper Bowser is a huge hopeless romantic, at least from what I’ve seen of him.)

- In Superstar Saga he helps Mario and Luigi reach the Bean Kingdom for Peach’s sake. Then in Bowser’s Inside Story his most beloved and protected memories are his memories of Peach + he makes saving her his priority towards the end. And in Dream Team, he hears a rumor that Peach might have gotten kidnaped and immediately flies all the way to Pi’illo Island to find her.

- You cannot convince me that his car in Mario 3D World wasn’t an attempt to impress Peach, given this is one of the only two games (three with Wonder) where you play as her and face against him. /hj

- In that one old comic people kept bringing up after the movie came out, Bowser spends a lot of time gushing about marrying Peach. Also despite Peach being very temperamental in this comic, I don’t think Bowser once tries to hurt her? Obviously you have the Magikoopa brainwashing her at the end which is fucked up but outside of that does Bowser ever get angry or menacing when it comes to her?

- In general, outside of the games where Peach is playable and the intro of Inside Story (which comes off as OOC for Bowser tbh, I get him being pissed off but him trying to burn Peach is just really off), do we ever get to see Bowser raise a hand on her and/or try to physically hurt her? Same for his anger, how often do we get to see him raise his voice on her? And no the sports and party games don’t count since everyone is doing the same thing to everyone else in those, and in the party games it'd be unfair if playing that one character led to Bowser going easy on the player.

Now I might be missing some more moments, especially since I’m far from the most knowledgeable on the sport/party games and some RPGs (slowly making my way through them), but there’s one thing that is very obvious: while most villains express sexual attraction for the damsel in distress, Bowser expresses romantic attraction.

Bowser genuinely cares for Peach. She’s one of his most precious memories. In Super Paper, he snaps out of the joy of getting married when Peach is getting brainwashed, showing how much he values her safety. He absolutely adores her and isn’t afraid to express it, especially Paper Bowser.

Those two instances (Inside story and Super Paper) especially really seem to lean into how much Bowser loves Peach. In Inside Story, the fact that she’s his most well-preserved memory shows just how much he values the little time he spends with her and how important she is to him, not as some pretty face but as a person he genuinely wants to create more memories with. And in Super Paper, Bleck is giving him the one thing he’s always wanted, and yet he still shows some reticence when Nastasia uses her mind control, making it look like Peach being safe and sound is more important to him than them being a couple. Idk, those two moments just really get to me when you think about it this way.

(Btw in Super Paper I adore that Peach hesitates to leave him in 8-1 because, while we know Peach is incredibly kind so of course she’d be worried for a teammate, for once it feels like Bowser actually earned it. He spends the whole game being caring towards Peach, and wouldn’t you know, being nice and respectful to someone actually makes them care for you! I swear the Powser potential from this game is unmatched!)

When most villains say “I want this woman to love me”, they usually mean “I want this woman to obey and submit to my every want”. When Bowser says “I want Peach to love me”, he means “I want to be able to wake up everyday by her side, make her smile and laugh and be happy, see her be a mother to my kid(s), learn more about her and spend as much time with her as I can”. Bowser isn’t trying to marry Peach because he wants to “own” her, he wants to marry her because he quite literally wants to spend the rest of his life by her side.

Now that’s not to say that Bowser doesn’t feel any form of sexual attraction. But since Mario is such a kids-friendly franchise, the focus is much more on his romantic feelings. Also, I'll admit, whether Bowser is in love with Peach or with the idea of Peach is up for debate.

I think that’s the main reason why so many people are quick to call Bowser sweet/adorable when seeing the way he talks about Peach. Because the thing is, Bowser is still being a complete asshole here. He’s constantly kidnapping her, putting her in a cage on several occasions, forced her to marry him like 6 different times, very often disregards her body autonomy by grabbing her (+ the kidnappings), terrorizes and sometimes even tortures/kills her people, and his phone pic in the parental controls video + the picture frames in Nintendo World make him look like a creep. Despite his feelings for her, there’s definitely a level of objectification here that should not be ignored.

Hell, I didn’t mention the 2023 movie on the list because I’d argue he was more obsessed rather than in love. Plus the scene where he proposes to her low-key feels like the very first time they meet, making his previous actions creepier (or at the very least they barely know each other, heck Peach didn’t even know Bowser likes her!). And he’s quick to use blackmail and violence against her, especially in the end. The wedding cake toppers also show he cares more about himself than Peach and sees her as an object rather than a person.

(I actually take back what I said in my movie reaction post about Bowser being like the one from Super Paper. He might be goofy when showing his softer side, which was what I was focused on when comparing the two, but he’s also clearly not as genuine and sweet as Paper Bowser. The way he mistreats his army and especially Kamek in the movie is also different from most games, most notably the RPGs since that’s when we see him interact with his people and he’s a relatively good king to them.)

Compare 2023 Movie Bowser to the 1986 movie in which he tries to get Peach involved in the wedding preparations, tries to cheer her up, never gets angry at her despite how much she’s resisting him and never once raises his hand on her. Even when she outsmarts him by making him shapeshift, he’s amused by her attempt. Literally the worse he does in this movie is grab her against her will on many occasions (and obviously the kidnaping and forced marriage, that goes without saying).

Going back on topic, despite Bowser being very much horrible in the way he approaches Peach, since every other villain out there is lusting after the woman they capture, making them appear creepy/predatory, Bowser comes off as an angel in comparison. He’s one of those rare cases of a villain who is truly sincere about his feelings for the woman he captures, and since we see other occasions of him being a sweetheart (with Junior) and a dumbass (the RPG series), he becomes an incredibly endearing character. So his feelings for Peach come off as adorable despite the bad elements because we’re aware he has a soft side so we know he’s truly sincere. Him being sometimes more of an antihero in the RPGs + his inclusion in sports games and the like probably also help seeing him in that good light.

(Also yes I’m very much aware that there’s a huge issue when it comes to how fandoms perceive female characters, and I will absolutely believe you if you tell me this is one of the reasons why you have people who talk shit about Peach so much all while defending Bowser’s actions, especially since his feelings for Peach are so rooted into his character. Oh and obviously you have the people horny for Bowser who love his softer/romantic side and value the moments where he displays this part of himself, that goes without saying.)

I’m especially surprised by the 1986 movie showing such a characterization of him, considering it came out 1-2 years after the very first Super Mario game (aka Bowser’s first appearance, at least I think?). Like imagine making a movie about those characters and going “hey you know the giant turtle monster we fight in this game? What if he was a huge lovable dork who just wanted some love in his life?”. Tbh I adore that choice.

Overall, it’s just interesting to see how Bowser differs from other villains on that front. It’s very interesting to see a villain who does pretty terrible things to a girl all the while being genuine in his feelings for her, idk it’s a very cool contrast. I also like how “true love” tends to be a motivation for the heroes, seen as something good, so it’s fun to see stories where villains have that very same motivation without it being ���““twisted””” with lust. And yes I know that last point applies to many more antagonists than just Bowser, and not just for feelings like love.

And a bit off-topic but I also really like how you can easily explain Bowser’s behavior here (not justifying it tho!!!). In the Yoshi Island games, we see he was raised as a spoiled brat who was always given what he wanted, made worse by him being a monarch. We even still see some of that behavior in his adult self, for example when he gets angry and starts stomping his foot like a kid throwing a tantrum.

As a result of his upbringing, Bowser likely just doesn’t know how to take a no. He’s used to always get what he wants, and take it by force if necessary. So when Peach refuses him, he does just that, incapable of understanding why she doesn’t want him.

The 86 movie is actually an excellent example of this. In two scenes (the one with Peach outsmarting him and the ring dialogue) we see Bowser getting worked up when Peach is upset, showing he genuinely wants her to be happy. But at the same time he’s incapable of realizing that he’s the reason why she’s so upset and the one thing he should do is let her go. The ring scene especially shows it very well. When Peach throws the ring and starts crying because she doesn’t want to get married, Bowser thinks she’s upset due to the ring being too big and immediately tries to soothe her by promising to get a better ring. Again, it’s kinda crazy how this movie was made when Bowser only existed for a single year and yet they already made him genuinely in love with Peach.

I’d also add that Bowser seems to have a pretty high opinion of himself, thinking he’s awesome and shit (or maybe he’s overcompensating, that seems like a possibility). As a result, it’s possible that his mentality on the situation is “Well I’m in love with her so surely she must love me! How could she not?”, making it even harder for him to comprehend why she doesn’t love him.

Again, it doesn’t justify his actions in the slightest but it’s still interesting how you can somewhat understand why he’s like this.

And as to why I ship Powser, honestly I still have no idea ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I think it has to do with the storytelling potential of a unrequited love/it’s complicated/they have history situation in regards to their roles as monarchs, especially in the case of Peach whose character is brimming with untapped potential. I actually like to describe their relationship as “I hate the effect you have on my life but I couldn’t imagine a life without you in it” or “Our kingdoms are enemies for a good reason but if anything happened to you I’d rush in to save you without hesitation”. It's just that idea of them being ex-lovers who had a bad falling out and how Peach still cares about him to an extent and how their lives constantly intertwine with villains trying to take over their kingdoms + Bowser's kidnappings.

And since we’re talking Powser and since wondering whether they know each other or not in the movie got me to question how we can tell they know each other in the games: the best way I could describe their relationship in the games is familiar/”comfortable”, like you have the way Peach tries to convince Bowser to join the group in Super Paper, the way she talks about him in general in the Mario and Luigi games, or stuff like most cutscenes in Odyssey where she never seems afraid of Bowser.

I’ve also seen that Switch Tennis game with the evil racket and how Peach is the one who tries to get through to Bowser when he steals it, straight up saying “listen to me” which makes it seem like she knows she’s the one person who could get him to stop, or you have the first Rabbids game where she comments on how “Junior is sometimes even worse than his father”, plus the way she looks like a mother about to reprimand her child in the cutscene where Jr learns Bowser is coming home (which I find hilarious; lady that’s not your kid, I thought we’d been through this already in Sunshine!). Oh and CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE WAY SHE’S LOOKING AT HIM IN (spoilers in link) THAT CUTSCENE FROM THE NEW RABBIDS 2 DLC!!!

I don’t know how to fully explain but, looking at these kinds of interactions, you can tell that the two of them know each other, and to an extent Peach knows that Bowser won’t hurt her, hence why she’s not afraid to oppose him. It’s pretty funny actually how in the games Peach tends to be exasperated by Bowser more than anything else. Like he’s not a menace, just a weekly annoyance. And again, when you compare it to the movie where there’s only hostility and awkwardness between them, you do get the impression that they’re two complete strangers meeting for the first time. The fact Movie Peach had no idea about his feelings for her doesn’t help either. Then again, about the hostility, Peach in the games is much sweeter so maybe she shows a nicer side to Bowser because that’s just who she is.

[foxybananaaaz]

3k Words

If you have not yet read any of the other parts, please click the Title Page to go to the start.

Lucien Week Day Six :: Romance.

From past to present, do you see Lucien with a romantic partner? @lucienweekofficial

Let's start this part, a little... different.

Elain Archeron had been spending far too much time on her own over the past few months. Save for dinners, or when she would go visit with Lucien in the Day Court, which was more often than anyone at home knew, or would like, had they known.

She was constantly treated as a child, as though she could not hold her own, could not decide things, and needed help.

With Lucien, she felt free. She felt as though she could take on the world. She got the feeling he would let her take his life if situations got so dire. With Lucien, things were simple but also incredibly complicated.

Was the reason her feelings were changing, because of the bond, or were they changing all on their own? They were friends, and while she saw how he would wish for more, she also saw him fight those wishes, those thoughts, the urges the bond made him feel, want. Lucien fought against his instincts, to make her comfortable.

The thread that tied them did not glow, but her heart did feel as though it skipped a beat, while her stomach had the fluttering feeling she had only felt at the beginning of her courtship with Greyson.

Elain was finding that she was finalising her decision she had been considering for a few weeks now. One that would not be taken well, or even easily amongst her sisters, or their family. But it was a decision she was making on her own.

She remembered something Lucien had said a what felt like forever ago, "My Lady, whenever you wish for me to visit, all you need to do is give a little tug, and I will be right there by your side before you know it." And so, without hesitation, without thinking about it, without realizing that it was the middle of the night, and before she really could stop herself at all, Elain took hold of that thread, and gave it a gentle, but firm tug.

She had made up her mind. Her only concern was if there would be a rejection.

*** *** ***

Lucien was on his bed, unable to sleep. He was trying to block out the sound of his mother and Helion reuniting. Again. Every night. For the fifth week in a row. He knew Helion had a reputation, that as much was common knowledge. But his mother?

Clearly, she'd have had to, having seven sons, but still. He didn't want to think about it, let alone be forced to listen to it.

When he felt the first one, he groaned, thinking the reuniting pair was now affecting the house itself. Until he felt it again, and he could not mistake what it was. Nearly crying in relief when he realized what it was.

Finally having an excuse to leave, Lucien wrote a quick note, not knowing how long he would be, and left the house and made it out the gate before winnowing away.

He landed at the edge of the property, and started to make his way up the walk, already seeing Elain waiting there for him, a dazzling smile on his face, causing Lucien to stumble a step. His stumble only caused Elain to giggle into her hand, which he heard clearly. An entirely new sound, one he had to fight to stay standing, and finish his way to her.

When Lucien finally reached his mate, his friend, he was shocked how she pulled him in for a hug right away. Elain usually avoided contact, not wanting to set the bond off more than necessary. Yet here she was, being the one to initiate the contact with a hug. Lucien wouldn't complain, but he sure was confused as he hugged her back.

When Elain did pull back, she kept a hand on his arm with a smile. Lucien just stood there, at a loss for words, dumbstruck. But he had to restrain himself. The two of them were friends. He could not give into these instincts that were so hard to control that the mating bond put forth.

Elain spoke then, mentioning how she did not belong here, at the Night Court. How she needed to get out. She paused there as if she hoped Lucien would pick up on the hint.

The only thing Lucien did pick up on, though, was how Elain mentioned she didn't belong in the Night Court. Which was what caused him to leave.

Lucien quickly explained to Elain that she should not exile herself from her family, that it was not worth losing her family over. Though he grew confused as he saw Elain shake her head.

Lucien listened closely as Elain repeated herself, saying how she did not belong here and did not fit in to the Night Court. There was a certain emphasis on the word night, a small amount, but it was there.

That's when it clicked with Lucien, and his eyes widened. The metal eye looked his mate over as if to make sure there were no spells or glamour on her. When none was found, Lucien spoke.

"You want ... to come to the Day Court?" Lucien asked, as if he were clarifying, to make sure he understood correctly.

Elain simply nodded and informed him that her sisters would not react kindly. That the High Lord would react with anger. They would fight to keep her here because it was a big decision, and they should discuss it amongst themselves, leaving Elain out of it.

Luciens anger rose. He had suspicions that she did not get choices or a say here, but to have it confirmed with what she had just said. To know that his mate was stuck, without the chance to even make a decision on some of the simplest things, infuriated not just the instincts the mate bond gave him, but also who he was to his core, after witnessing his mother trapped his whole life.

To know Feyre also would allow this after she escaped Tamlin for doing the same thing to her. She knew what having very little to no choice was like. How could she do this or allow this to happen to her own sister?

Lucien forced himself to calm down enough to not frighten or concern his mate. "My Lady, if you feel like you need to move, if you wish to go somewhere else, you are going to. I will make sure of that. Go to the Day Court ... go onto my patio," Lucien added, remembering the reuniting that was going on. "I'll go in to pack for you."

Elain simply shook her head, explaining how there was no need to, that she had been bringing over all her important items over the past few weeks, tucking them in a box she had brought, and put in Luciens cupboards. "I've known for a while that I don't belong here. I've known for a while that I want to live with you and your parents in the Day Court. If you all would allow it."

Elain then took Luciens' hand, and the moment their hands touched, the two were back in Luciens' room. It was like no winnowing he had ever felt before.

Elain then pulled Lucien behind her as she walked towards an area of Helions' house that he hadn't been to before.

"Would you dance with me?" Elain had asked Lucien as they reached a room, and she opened the doors to what looked like a ballroom. "I'm not as good as Nesta, I didn't get all the lessons, but I can dance party dances, and it's been so long, I do miss it." Elain finished as she stepped inside, bringing Lucien along as she was still holding his hand.

Lucien stood there, unknowing how he could deny her request, but he couldn't deny it even if he wished to. Elain looked so eager, and her request was such a simple one. How couldn't he agree? How could someone deny her when she was looking at them, with such hopeful excitement in her beautiful eyes, the colour of a young fawns coat.

So he agreed, though he was nowhere near dressed appropriately for any form of dancing. But no one would be watching, so it shouldn't matter too much.

Elain finally let go of Luciens' hand, which was immediately cold and feeling empty, so she could go turn on some music quietly before running back over, finishing with a curtsey.

Unable to stop the smile of pure joy that spread across his face, Lucien returned Elains curtsey with a deep bow, and when he straightened up, he saw Elain smiling widely as well. Though he could have sworn her cheeks were slightly more coloured than a few seconds before.

And so, the two began dancing, losing themselves to the music.

It wasn't until they finished their seventh dance, pressed together, that they had to stop. The two of them were tired, having both been up all night, and just danced through seven songs.

They may have finished dancing, yet neither of them moved to separate from the other. Both smiling and breathing hard, looking to the other, as though they had not had fun like that in their whole lives.

Still, neither of them moving. The two continued to look the other in the eyes. Their smiles slowly faded, but their gazes grew more intense.

"Lucien, I-" Elain began softly, quietly.

"Well, I am genuinely sorry because I can't tell you enough how much I truly hate to break this up, but we have company"

Lucien and Elain both jumped apart as if the other burned them, turning towards the door, the intruder, the voice that wasn't supposed to be there.

Lucien saw his mother standing there with Helion, along with-

Elain grabbed Luciens hand. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly, and this was the only indicator of her fear. Lucien squeezed her hand gently, offering her comfort the same way she was showing him her fear.

Lucien recognized her fear as he saw Rhysand, Feyre, and the Viper.

"Rhysand and Feyre claim that we have taken a high status member of their Court." Helion spoke with a dismissive air to his tone, as if he could tell which way this would go. But Lucien knew the tone would turn dangerous if the conversation turned to even the smallest amount of violence on his lands.

"We did not take her. We freed her. Just as Rhysand freed Feyre when he had his cousin retrieve her from the Spring Court, while Tamlin and I were away." Lucien responded, with a disinterested tone himself.

"Freed? And you would compare the two situations?" Rhysand asked in disbelief.

"Elain?" Feyre had called out to her sister.

When Elain did not speak, Lucien continued. "Yes, freed. Elain told me that she was not free to make her own decisions. That everything she does has to go through the groups approval. It is similar to what Feyre went through after we came out of the mountain. Tamlin refused to let her do what she wanted and would constantly make decisions for her." Lucien explained, seeing realization dawn in Feyres eyes as she remembered what Lucien was talking about.

"I also grew up, watching my whole life, as a female had her choices and freedom removed from her. The whole Court loved her, but they didn't see the pain she was in." Lucien spoke, looking towards his mother. "No one saw the amount pain she was in. Even those who loved her the most."

Lucien then looked back to their guests. "So no, We didn't take her. From our standpoint, and from what she has told us, we freed her."

"She is a high-ranking member of my court." Rhysand responded, not backing down.

"She is my mate." Lucien returned, looking down at Elain. He knew this would be the winning card. He went into this, not wanting to use it, but he was left with no choice.

"She's our sister." The viper spat, fury in her eyes.

Lucien looked towards Nesta and then Feyre. Feyre at least seemed to understand what Lucien meant. "There seems to be a key difference between the fae and human lands you are unaware of yet." Lucien spoke, his tone taking a more apologetic tone as he looked down at Elain. He knew she wouldn't like this next part, even if he worded it the least offensive way he could.

"Being my mate, there is a certain ... claim that I have that even you, as her sister, do not have." He gently squeezed Elains hand, trying to let her know that they were only words to him. Only words to get her to stay, it it was what she truly wanted.

"Even Feyre, as Tamlins Fiancé, as she was not yet married to him when Rhysand announced that he and Feyre were mates, Tamlin could react, sure. But if he tried to take her back, it would have caused a war." Lucien explained. "Mates are rare and are treasured when they do occur."

"Elain?" Feyre tried again. And finally, Elain spoke up.

"I have been planning to come here for the past few weeks. I do not fit in in the Night Court. I asked Lucien to bring me here, if it would be alright if I came here. I was planning to ask Helion in the morning." Elain explained, her hand shaking more, yet her posture and her voice did not betray her. "This is my choice." Elain finished before walking off, dragging Lucien behind her, refusing to let him go.

Lucien heard Helion behind them, sounding as if he were ending the discussion. "Well, you heard her. It is her choice to be here. I'm not going to strip her of her choice. And Lucien is right. She is his mate. You can't exactly change that. Now, unless you plan on visiting socially, forgive me as I ask you to-" and Lucien couldn't hear the rest of what Helion said, as he and Elain were too far away.

"Elain, about what I said, at the end there, please understand I didn't mean it. I'd never lay cl-" Lucien started until he was interrupted.

Lucien was interrupted by Elain grabbing the back of his head, and pulling it down to reach as she kissed him.

Frozen, for just about a second and a half, Lucien finally pulled himself together and moved to place his hands on either side of Elains face and return her kiss.

After he started to kiss her back, Elain let the back of his head go, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rose up on her toes so Lucien wasn't bending down so low.

The small thread that tied the two of them together glowed golden and bright. It pulsed, it sang, it thrived, and it came alive. Their very souls started dancing together just like they had been an hour before. Gravity ceased to exist as it felt like they were floating a foot off the ground. They weren't only brightly golden on the inside, as the sunrise was aimed directly at them, painting their bodies golden as well.

The kiss lasted less than a minute, but it felt like it lasted a glorious eternity. Lucien didn't want to pull back, but he needed to. Being caught off guard, he didn't have the breath to continue any longer.

So Lucien pulled back and looked towards Elain, the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. How had he gotten so lucky to end up with her as his mate?

"I hope you know that that will make it impossible to fight off the instincts and stay just friends." Lucien spoke first, looking into his mates eyes, with nothing but adoration and awe.

Smiling, Elain reached up, giving Lucien another quick kiss before responding herself. "Did you not get the hint? I don't want to stay just friends." Elains smile only widened before hugging Lucien.

Elains hug felt like home.

Lucien felt, well, he felt his heart swell. He felt wanted in a different way from all those months ago when Helion had told him that he would never be exiled from the Day Court. The two were friends, but that statement from Elain felt like more.

Lucien, as a rule, rarely let himself hope. Because his hopes were always crushed right in front of him. But he hoped for the Day Court and Helion, and he hasn't been let down yet. Could he allow himself to hope for this?

In the back of his mind, he could hear the words pulsing.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

To read the next part, press its title, In The Afternoon

This is not Inner Circle hate. It is taking canon information about Elain from Silver Flames(Nesta and Cassians thoughts on how the Night Court doesn't suit her, and Nesta, Azriel and Rhysand making decisions on Elains behalf), and ... slightly tweaking it to fit the narrative here.

[xbadgerbearx]

chapter 3: prince

word count: 3k

Sonata in Darkness: [2] ... [4]

“I mean god… he’s such a jerk.”

You had just finished telling Selina about what had happened down in the 44 Below as you sat in the cab. You didn’t even hear what place Selina told the man to drive to, you were so upset and instantly started ranting.

“An absolute asshole,” she said as she rolled her eyes. She started telling you about what had happened on her end of the line, before she gave a sudden gasp. “I just remembered!”

“Jesus, Cat, way to scare the shit outta me. What’s wrong?”

She gave a sly look and smirked. “While you were busy with bat freak getting info from that D.A. guy, I was getting info from some loud-mouth customers.”

You raised a brow, silently asking her to continue.

“Well, let’s just say we’ll be busy tomorrow night… hope you didn’t have any plans,” she said amusingly, before turning her gaze out the window.

You looked at her in silence, expecting her to continue, but she still looked on. You scoffed, “Um, hello? Are ya gonna clue me in on what’s going down?” 

She looked at you seriously, before a smirk crept onto her face and her facade broke. Laughing, she filled you in. “Okay, okay. According to some guy working in some narcotic lab, there’s supposed to be a drop going on—a score, if you will. I wrote down the place he was talking about. Anyways, we sneak there and steal whatever money they’re trading right from their noses. Come on,” she winked, “can’t be too hard.”

She gave you an eager look as you thought it over. On one hand, you guys could really use that money—living isn’t cheap. And it isn’t like this would be the hardest thing you’ve done; you’ve done way worse…probably. But on the other hand…the consequences of getting caught are much higher. These guys probably wouldn’t slap cuffs on you and send you to jail, they’d more likely shoot first and ask questions later, unlike that cop paroling the Mayor’s office. But the money…

“Yeah, okay,” you gave in. “Just give me the details-“

Your phone interrupted with a bzzzz.

Looking at your phone, you and Selina could see that it was your boss, Oswald Cobblepot.

Bzzzz.

You stared at the screen, panic filling you. Did he find something out? Are you in trouble? Maybe-

Bzzzz.

“I think you should answer that,” Selina whispered. You hastily accepted the call and put the phone to your ear.

“Heya doll, how’s it going?”

“Oh, it’s going alright. It was a busy night tonight, you know how it gets,” you laughed nervously.

“So me ‘n Mr. Falcone have been talking; he says he’s missed seein’ ya ‘round his place. He’s invited you to accompany him to the Mayor’s funeral tomorrow morning. Ain’t that nice of him?”

You held your breath for a second. Carmine Falcone invited you to go with him? You must have stayed silent for a beat too long, because Oz spoke up.

“Hon?”

“Oh, um, yes! Yes, thank you for the invite. I’m just not sure that-“

“-I think you should go. Wouldn’t want to upset Mr. Falcone, would you?”

“…no. Tell him that I’ll be ready in the morning.”

“Great, great. I’m sure he’ll be pleased. We’ll pick you up, darlin’, don’t worry about it. Have a good night.”  He hung up, leaving your eyes to linger on the dark phone screen. Selina’s eyes burned into you as she nearly died of curiosity.

“So,” she finally gave in. “What was that?”

“Oz was asking if I would accompany Falcone to the funeral tomorrow.”

“…you’re joking.”

“I’m not! I tried backing out, but… you know…”

“Nah, I get it.” Selina had a strange look on her face. “Just be back for the score, got it?”

“Of course,” you smiled.

“And hey,” Selina got serious. “Just be safe, yeah? You know Carmine Falcone…”

————————————————————————————————

“You know Carmine Falcone?”

“I work at the mob spot, of course I know him.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a relationship with him.”

“I don’t have a relationship with him. Never did. What’s your problem?”

“Well, that’s not what it looked like.”

“You don’t believe me? You really gonna be an asshole about this?”

“Are you going to tell me the truth? You seeing another one of these mobsters? Some loser nobody—“

“Pretty,” Alfred interrupted Bruce, causing him to hurriedly pause the recording of the night prior. He had been rewinding that last bit of conversation for quite some time now. Alfred continued, “New friend of yours? Although by the way you’re talking, it seems a little more serious.”

Bruce gave him a sharp look before sighing and looking back at the screen. “I’m not so sure.”

“Looks like you upset her.” The recording was paused and zoomed onto your face. Even with your angry expression and tears that threatened to swell, you still looked beautiful. Bruce casted him an annoyed look. “Shall I take this as a good sign?”

“What?”

“Your attire.” Alfred gestured to Bruce, who was dressed rather handsomely. He was wearing a nice black suit and tie. “Is Bruce Wayne making an actual appearance?”

“There’s a public memorial for Mayor Mitchell. Serial killers like to follow reactions to their crime,” Bruce said as if it was the most obvious thing. “Riddler might not be able to resist.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Alfred jumped as he took a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I took the liberty of doing a little work on this latest cipher—the one from the rat maze.” Bruce turned fully to face him, his back now facing the digital you. He could feel your eyes burning into him. “I’m afraid his Spanish is less than perfect, but I’m fairly certain it translates to ‘You are El Rata Alada.’”

“Rata Alada…” Bruce pondered for a moment before continuing, “‘Rat with wings?’”

“It’s slang for pigeon,” Alfred informed. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yeah, a stool pigeon-“

“-Where are your cufflinks?” Alfred interrupted.

“I couldn’t find them.”

“Well, you can’t go out like that,” the older man declared as he started to undo his own links.

“Alfred, I don’t want your cufflinks.”

The man handed Bruce the small piece of jewelry. “You have to keep up appearances. You’re still a Wayne.”

Bruce scoffed, “And what about you? You a Wayne?” Your cyber eyes felt hotter against his back. 

“Your father gave them to me…” the man said solemnly. Bruce looked downwards, a little ashamed, but glanced back up to see Alfred giving him a small smile. “And besides, I’m just loaning them to you. I want them back!”

————————————————————————————————

Getting ready in the dingy, broken, and mess of an apartment you called home sucked. There was no time to clean after the break-in and unfortunately, it was hard to look at the place without seeing Anika. You kept your eyes on the floor for the most part. 

You picked what you thought was most appropriate for a funeral; it was challenging considering that most of your clothes were for your work. Simple was the key—simple black dress, simple makeup, simple boots. The fall weather was chilly, so you borrowed Selina’s black trench coat to layer over your outfit. A car horn made you jump away from the mirror.

The driver politely opened the door so you could make your way into the vehicle. Your boss was sitting in the passenger seat, smoking a cigarette, while Falcone was sitting beside you.

“Morning darling, you look absolutely gorgeous,” he kissed your hand, “let’s get this shit show over with.” 

You smiled, albeit uncomfortable, and stayed silent the whole trip. The men were discussing how much they did not want to go to this event but hey, gotta do what you gotta do, I guess. It didn’t take long to reach the church and with a look from Falcone, Oz got out of the car to deal with the crowd.

“Hold it,” he ordered, voice muffled through the car. “You good, fellas?” The crowd took the hit and backed away. He opened the door with a “We’re good Mr. Falcone” and Falcone stepped out, but not before giving you a wink. He cautiously looked around before offering his hand to you. You took it.

Your black knee-high boots clacked against the wet pavement as you settled yourself into the crook of the man’s arm, making your way into the building. You were about to enter until-

“Hey—hey! Give us a wide berth here, will ya, Slick?” You turned around to see Oz yelling at a man, but he was already looking at you with a strange intensity in his eyes. Wait a minute… was that?

“Watchit, fellas. You got the Prince of the City there. Some event, huh? Brought out the one guy in the city more reclusive than me.”

“Thought you’d never leave the Shoreline,” Bruce Wayne fired immediately. “Aren’t you afraid someone’ll take a shot at you?”

“Why? ‘Cause your father ain’t around? Guys,” Falcone looked back at you and Oz, “you know Bruce Wayne?”

“Wow, is that right?” Oz was not impressed in the slightest, unlike you. Bruce Wayne never makes a public appearance; it’s a rarity. Honestly, if it weren’t for all of Gotham never shutting up about his parents, you would have thought him a myth. You had to admit though, he was a little handsome.

“His father saved my life. I got shot in the chest, right here,” Falcone pointed to the place on yourself, ghosting over your right lower rib. Bruce’s glare darkened. “I couldn’t go to no hospital, so we showed up on his doorstep. Operated right on the dining room table. Kid here, he saw the whole thing from up on the stairs lookin’ down.” Falcone lowered his voice and leaned towards Bruce. “I remember your face. You don’t think that meant something when he did that?

“It meant he took the Hippocratic Oath.”

Falcone looked taken aback before letting a small chuckle escape. “‘Hippocratic Oath.’ That’s good.”

“Excuse me,” Bruce went to pass by as Falcone laughed. 

“Hey.” One of Falcone’s bodyguards took him by the shoulder. “I was thinking, ya know, since I have my lovely assistant here,” he clapped you on both of your shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Baby, you know I hate to share, but be a doll and keep Mr. Recluse some company, will ya? Help him loosen out of his shell a bit, I think he needs it,” Falcone laughed again. You expected Bruce Wayne to reject his offer, but he surprisingly obliged. Politely smiling and offering his elbow to you after sending Falcone one more glare, you took it with a shy smile and followed after him. The camera’s of the paparazzi exploded with light.

Bruce kept you nice and close to him as you both made your way inside. There were mourners all around; some cried, some looked bored, and some had a look of disdain. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer started. “Thank you all for coming to today’s memorial for our beloved mayor, Don Mitchell Jr. Our program will begin shortly. As a reminder…” 

“I’m sorry,” Bruce spoke softly after a while of silence. “I can’t figure out how such a gorgeous woman is hanging around a guy like Falcone. I’ve seemed to have forgotten my manners. My name’s Bruce Wayne, what’s yours?” He smiled slightly at you as he introduced himself. He looked slightly eager. You already knew who he was, of course because who didn’t, but it was nice to see him introduce himself. It was… kinda cool.

You bashfully smiled back. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne—“

“Bruce.”

“—Bruce.” Your smile grew as you played along. “My name is—“

“What good is a safety net if it doesn’t catch nobody?” A man interrupted. “Didn’t help my daughter when she needed it, I can tell you that. Guy was just another rich scum sucker. He got what he deserved.” The man looked Bruce in the eyes. “Know what I mean? Hey… don’t I know you?”

“Bruce Wayne,” another voice interrupted. Bruce looked a little annoyed. He pursed his lips and frowned before turning to Bella Reál. “Why haven’t you called me back?” She turned her gaze to you briefly and looked surprised. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware you had company. I’m Bella Reál, I’m running for mayor. I wouldn’t be bothering you here, but your people keep telling me you’re ‘unavailable.’ Will you walk with me?” Bruce followed the woman, tucking you into his side even more. Bella paused as she looked at you, but continued as she positioned herself onto the other side of Bruce. He gave you an apologetic look, as if he was trying to say ‘sorry for dragging you into this.’

“You know, you really could be doing more for this city. Your family has a history of philanthropy, but as far as I can tell, you’re not really doing anything.” You rolled your eyes, but she couldn’t see. “If I’m elected, I want to change that.” The three of you found yourselves at the front of the session where the ex-mayor's son could be seen. “I’m gonna go pay my respects. Will you wait for me? I want to continue this,” she said adamantly before approaching the casket. 

The only thing not deeply depressing in the place was the music, which was lovely. You were going to make a comment to the man you were standing beside, but he was staring at the little boy. You could only assume what he was thinking, and you had a pretty good guess, so you squeezed his arm to try and bring him back. His eyes snapped to yours before squeezing you back with a small smile.

“‘Scuse me, Chief?” Being nosy, both you and Bruce shared a look before eavesdropping. “Gil Colson is missing.” Your grip on Bruce’s arm tightened.

“What?” The Chief asked. His badge name read ‘Gordon.’

“He hasn’t been heard from since last night—“

“—Christ, not again,”

“—Hey, Mr. Wayne,” a new, friendly cop chimed in with a smile and wave after noticing Bruce staring.

Bruce sighed before turning back to you. “Hopefully no more interruptions,” he whispered to you. “Let’s start over. My name’s Bruce, what’s—“

The world hated you because just as he uttered those words, screaming and the sound of revving engines echoed in the church. People, you included, fearfully looked around. Following Bruce’s gaze upwards, a sinister presence of a lone person looked down at you. You reacted quicker than Bruce—you could see a car driving up the church steps before he could, so you made a beeline to the little boy looking curiously. The boy, however, refused to move. He was transfixed at the vehicle heading towards him. Luckily, Bruce dove for you both and managed to roll and take the brunt of the impact as you all fell away from the car. The boy’s mother quickly gathered her son and hurriedly left as you stared at where the car crashed beside you. You looked down at the man who saved you but his gaze was still at the place the lone figure was—although he was gone now. Bruce’s grip tightened on you as you laid atop of him. Helping  you to your feet, he saw the scared look on your face. 

Cops rushed in with their weapons drawn and pointed at the vehicle.

“Get out of the car! Get out of the car and show your hands,” Gordon ordered.

The car door slowly opened as the driver raised their hands above their head. The person stumbled out and, oh my god, was that…?

“Christ, it’s Colson.”

It was the D.A.! He was still wearing the same outfit from when you last saw him, but there was a bomb around his neck and an envelope taped to him. One of the other officers yelled about the bomb, which caused the funeral attendees to panic. Bruce tucked your face into his chest and backed away as the phone taped to Colson’s hand went off. He was oddly protective, but you appreciated it for the moment. 

“Let’s clear this place out now!”

Police began hurriedly ushering people out of the building for their safety, but Bruce stood still. The envelope was addressed to ‘The Batman’ in handwriting that could only belong to a childs. Dragging Bruce to the exit after not wanting to spend more time next to a bomb, you looked for Falcone and Oz. Bruce also kept an eye out, but after about 5 minutes of looking from out the front steps, you gave up. They must have left after the first sign of trouble. 

“Those assholes,” you cursed under your breath. “Can’t believe they left me here. I didn’t even want to be here in the first place.”

“Well I couldn’t have met you if they didn’t make you come,” Bruce spoke up after a while. 

You softly laughed, “Yeah, I guess you’re right, although I would hardly call it a meeting. It could’ve been done with less bombs.” You looked helplessly at the road; your boss was your only ride and you didn’t want to pay for a taxi.

“Yeah, less bombs would be nice during a proper meeting, but ideally it would be best over dinner, wouldn’t you agree?” You looked at him with surprise as a taxi stopped next to you. Bruce, a little nervously, continued. “Listen, I’m sorry about all the interruptions from earlier. As you can probably tell, I don’t get out much.” He laughed bitterly and opened the door for you. “I would like to get to know you better under better circumstances, truly.” He took a notepad and pen from his coat pocket and scribbled. “Here,” he passed it to you. “I hope to hear from you.” You looked at the numbers he wrote down as he gave a wad of cash to the driver. Looking back up at Bruce, he gave a small, genuine smile before shutting the cab door and hurriedly retreating. 

You were mentally screaming but paused for a moment to reflect: You could tell that he was trying to charm you as he was laying it on rather thick, but you found it endearing. I mean, it’s not everyday that the Prince of Gotham lets you hang on his arm and accompany him. Besides, it really did seem like he wanted to get to know you. And most importantly…

He gave you his f-ing phone number!

============================================

[hypnotisedfireflies]

hopefully these are not duplicates, how about 1. Describe your journey this year in three words, 12. A concept you'd like to develop next year, and 22. An idea you had that didn't make the cut

Thank you for asking!

1. Describe your journey this year in three words Productive, fun, satisfying. 12. A concept you'd like to develop next year I would like to finish my current fic and then try and take a little break. I'd also like to maybe write for some other fandoms again? I don't know. I'm trying not to think of anything new and just deal with the ideas I have! 22. An idea you had that didn't make the cut Fifty for the Panda was my second attempt for that advent prompt. The original concept quickly showed itself to be way too complex (like the original crack fic idea). The original idea gave Joel more of a personal stake in an investigation. I wrote nearly 3k before I scrapped it, but I liked it because it was a window into Joel's early criminal past and name drops someone he worked for in Only Half a Perfect World. So here's part of it, anyway:

All Joel’s things were in the other bedroom.  He dropped the towel and flipped open the lid of his suitcase.  He chose a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt - casual, Tess had said.  Then he pulled back the covers and slapped the pillows around until the bed looked believably slept in. 

Tess had spread her work out on the dining table and sat with her back to a ray of sunshine.  She hadn’t bothered to dress.  The direct sunlight rendered her robe transparent.  She turned a page in a manifesto as he strolled into view, but did not look up.

There was no sign of the promised breakfast yet, so Joel placed a call to his night staff to make sure everything had run smoothly over the night.  There was nothing to report.  Joel twiddled his index and middle fingers together.  He itched for a cigarette, but they were in the middle of another try at quitting, and stamped down on the craving.  Where was the fucking coffee?

“What are you working on?”  He asked, leaning in to the large, fan-shaped mirror displayed on the wall.  He rubbed his hand along his clean-shaven jaw.

“Got a story on some two-bit gang leader who used was based out of - guess where - Texas in the 50s.”

“What was the deal?”

“Nothing special,” she mused, turning a page.  “Might’ve had a hand in a disappearance of a girl a few years back.  There’d be a few parties interested in meting out a little justice if that’s true.”

“You ever thought of taking tips like this to the cops?”

Tess laughed.  “Okay.”

“I mean it.  You ever done that, take a tip like this to the cops?”

“I’m a lot of things, Joel, but corrupt isn’t one of them.  Are you telling me you have any faith in the legal system?”

“So who’d be interested?”

“The boyfriend never stopped looking.  The boyfriend’s a smaller player in the Midwest, but he’ll pay for a positive tip.”  Tess turned around a large, black-and-white photo.  It was a headshot of a young girl.  By the haircut and the starburst collar clips, he’d place it maybe late 50s, early 60s.  “Seen her in your travels?”

“No.”

“She’s from Abilene.”

“Texas?”

“Yeah.  Francine Gonzalez.”

“You know, Texas is a big place.”

Tess gave him a tight smile.  “Just look again.”

Joel pinched the edge of the photo.  “I don’t know her.  Who was the two-bit gang leader?”

“Ah,” Tess checked her notes.  “Linklater.  Never heard of him.”

“Oh, that’s a name I do know,” Joel said. 

Someone knocked on the door in a very deliberate pattern.

“Hold that thought.” 

“I thought Texas was a big place?”  Tess called after him as he headed through their two-bedroom suite for the door. 

Joel checked the peephole.  The knock had been in code, and he could see Ryan on the other side.  Joel opened up the door and took the breakfast trolley in by himself - Tess wasn’t really in a state to receive given their relationship was a technical secret - and left Ryan to tip on his behalf.

He started unpacking. Tess waited, drumming the end of her pen on the pile of paperwork.

“Well?  Richard Linklater?”

“Let me get some coffee.”

“Joel.”

“It’s not goin’ anywhere in the next two minutes, Tess.  Will you let me get my fuckin’ coffee?”

“Why don’t you just have a smoke?”

“No,” he muttered.  “Not bustin’ a five-day streak.”

So he organised two cups of piping hot coffee the way they liked it, and by that stage the scent of breakfast had gotten to them both, so they buttered their toast while it was still hot.  Joel took the lid off the scrambled eggs and used it like dip.

“Ricky Linklater was one of the first people I did real work for.”

“How far back are we going here?”

“Shit,” he reclined and set one ankle over knee.  “Awhile.  ‘50, maybe ‘51.”

“Okay.  What kind of work?”

“Petty.  Two-bit’s the word for it, baby.  Shit, I haven’t thought about him in years.”

“Get on with it.”

He sipped the coffee.  “Burglaries.  He went down for grand theft auto.  Liked cars, but wasn’t too smart with on-sellin’ them.”

“Is that what you did for him?”

“No,” Joel replied, looking for the cigarette that wasn’t there.  “No, I did some robberies for him, though.  Just enough to … get us by some.  Then I went back to him one day - round the time I dropped out of high school - said I wanted some better work.”

“Because you had Tommy.”

“Mm.  So then I started deliverin’ packages.”

“Packages.”

“Smack, mostly.  Nearly got me fuckin’ killed.  I did that for awhile, easy work, but yours truly didn’t know Ricky was cuttin’ into - some other guy, I can’t remember his name now - into his turf.  Shit, that’s over 20 years ago, you realise that?”

“How’d it nearly get you killed?”

“Wrong place wrong time.  The other guy’s goons started making examples of the couriers.  First guy I ever saw shot was right next to me.  Just another kid.  Then his goon looked at me, told me to tell Ricky the debt for trespass was in blood from now on.”

“How old were you?”

“I don’t know.  16, 17.  So I passed on the message, grabbed Tommy up, and went and found someplace else to live.  Didn’t much like taking Tommy out of school after we’d moved around so much, but it was better than getting caught up in all <i>that.”</i>

Tess smiled.  “Didn’t learn your lesson, though.”

“Money’s hard to quit.” 

“So you were there at the start and got out when it started getting nasty.  So it’s possible Linklater could’ve been involved in something like this?”

Joel sipped his coffee.  Everyone knew where business headed once you started dealing.  It was an entirely different, dangerous game.  And from what Joel knew, Ricky had stayed in it.  And that meant you played along.

“Yeah, guess it’s possible.  I could put in some calls to some old contacts, see if they know anything.”

“Thanks.  And look this over.”  She passed him the paperwork.  “It’s a new source.  I don’t know how good it is.  I’m going to shower.”

Joel flicked through the paperwork.  This was pretty low-level stuff.  Compared to Tess, Linklater was nobody, the boyfriend out for ancient blood was nobody, and the dead girl was nobody.  She did this sometimes.  She devoted resources to things that didn’t really seem to matter and claimed she was firming up alliances for future benefit.  But given her penchant for sheltering strays, Joel thought the concept of justice for a forgotten casualty was a little more complex than making business connections.

[multiwreckedmess]

No Reason Part Four (Final)

Synopsis - You needed an easy going person with no strings attached and San knew just the man. Now memories of Mingi haunt your daily life despite your best efforts to forget him. There’s no reason to mourn something that never existed, right?

Pairing - Mingi x fem!Reader (I try to limit pronoun usage but AFAB is what I know best)

CW -  Smut. Angst (a substantial amount in this part). An additional TW under the cut.

Words - 3k~ (in this part)

This is sort of an angsty multi part smutty thing I started writing this past spring and I am oddly attached to it. I’ll post the other parts later as I clean them up. it’s been across like 2 computers and 2 word processors so sorry for any of the formatting/grammar fallout from that. As a reminder this is a work of FICTION by clicking to read under the cut you acknowledge that you are mature enough to understand that this does not represent Mingi or any member of Ateez in any way. If you have difficulty with this concept please do not continue forward or interact with my work!

This is a multi part series please check out my masterlist for other posts!

TW: Crying, feeling dumping, y/n is very self flagellating, LONG perhaps too detailed cleanup/aftercare but ya’ll it’s so important. Author gets a little handwave-y fiction magic but you all know that the real world works different. ~ ~

Truly you don’t know how long the two of you have been standing nearly nose to nose in silence. Mingi patiently waiting for your answer.  Or excuse. Or anything really. Some small part of you wonders if you just don’t say anything he’ll move on. Another part of you holds onto the idea that staying silent will help you ‘win’ the argument, even though there is no argument to be won. 

“Did I hurt you?’ Mingi asks again, his normally bassy voice tuned to a high whisper, backing off slightly. Tears well up. Furrowing your brows, you bite your lower lip trying to contain them. “Can you not-- you didn’t do anything. Really you didn’t do anything. It’s not you it’s-” “That’s so fucking cliche and you know it. We’re both adults. I can take it. I can try to understand. Give me the opportunity to understand. If you ever cared about me at all-” “I did. That’s the problem.” “You cared about me and that’s a problem? Is there some part of me that’s so unlovable to you? Is it so unbelievable that someone like you would like me?” Still swaying from side to side in your apartment, Mingi looks at the ceiling. You duck the other way, eyes cast to the floor. Suddenly Mingi laughs, “This is so fucked.”

Chest tight with anger, something deep inside snaps. “This is why I wrote a note. This is why I didn’t tell anyone what happened. You think it’s been fun changing my entire routine to avoid you? You think I did this because I just wanted to have a fun time? Of course it’s fucked. I loved you Mingi. I loved you so much that it hurt. It physically hurt and I just didn’t want it to hurt anymore okay? So no, you didn’t do anything to me. I did it to myself. It’s my fault. It’s my fault that I’m just not a chill person, I’ll never be a chill person. I have never ever even once in my life been a chill person. I’m sorry that this was supposed to just be a one time thing and I forced myself into your life. I tried to leave quietly but here you are in my apartment demanding answers of me so here are your fucking answers.” Silence. Adrenaline still pumping your stomach is tight. You feel like you might throw up. All color has drained from Mingi’s face, mouth open as though you’d punched him in the stomach. “So yeah. It’s fucked. You’re fucked. I’m fucked. I’m sorry.”

***

“Besides, I need pjs.” Mingi pouts and wraps himself completely around you as you struggle to leave the comfort of his bed. “You don’t like my t-shirts?” “They aren’t mine. I want mine.” “What’s mine is yours,” he tries to pull you into facing him but you resist so he has to kiss your cheek instead of his intended target. “What about that woman at the bar,” you snip so quickly Mingi doesn’t even try to dodge it. “Share her?” He’s silent for a second, neither of you moves. Even your breathing slows to a stop waiting for what happens next. “So you are jealous.” His tone is unreadable. “I knew it.” Stiflingly tangled up in the blanket and his limbs somehow Mingi squeezes you closer. You huff and wiggle back towards him, letting the small lingering words disappear like smoke into the air. Nose pressed to the back of your neck his breath is warm as he hums, pressing his lips to you occasionally. A bold move to soothe an upset person. It works on you. The words “I’m sorry” were often too hollow, each peck he leaves is a wordless apology. “I’m supposed to be angry with you! This isn’t fair!” You wriggle in his grasp turning to face him. You lunge in to tickle him and loosen his hold. Trying to suppress a giggle he tenses instead, laughing as he retaliates. It’s a fierce grapple battle between the two of you. Mingi could easily humble you by sheer height, his long limbs granting him a natural advantage, but he’s careful. He’s not the big dog who grew up believing he was still a puppy. He’s the big dog who knows that sometimes the other person needs to win to learn. Smiling and giggling and out of breath, you emerge the seeming victor, having managed to wrestle yourself on top of him and pin his arms to the pillows. “Do not FUCK with me Song!” You joke, looking down at him fit snugly between your thighs. “Oh no, you got me! Oh I’m trapped! Oh help!” He cranes upwards to kiss your nose. In one graceful move he twists his forearms from your grasp. He flips the two of you equally as deftly, your legs still clinging to him as your back lands on the bed. “You’re too cute, you know? That’s why i can’t let you go.”

***

After the explosion of feelings and words you had expected Mingi would turn around and head for the door. He’d gotten what he wanted. He’d wrenched the words from you. He’d found that sore spot in your soul that just needed the smallest of prods to explode into the painful oozing wound it had always been. Years of stuff it down, carefully binding it off to save yourself undone by one man. 

Lower lip trembling you barely manage your last request. “Please leave.” You gulp, holding your breath to hold your tears. It’s your last shred of strength, he would not get your tears. You’d promised yourself no man would ever get your tears again. “You know I can’t leave you like this,” his voice is sweet and warm like a blanket tucking itself protectively over your shoulders. 

You stare at the wood grain of the floorboards, willing yourself to maintain your stoic disposition. If you just keep your eyes busy, your mind busy, you can’t think and you won’t feel.

Water. Running water. The soft click of your kettle returning to its cradle and small lever being pressed. The hiss of heat hitting the cool water inside of it. “Min-” your lip quakes again, totally unable to say his name. “What are you doing?” You ask without looking, trying to sound as cold and detached from the answer as possible. “Tea.” You bite the inside of your lower lip and hum in acknowledgement.

He sighs, a deep earth shattering gut-wrenching sigh. “I won’t - I can’t leave you like this. I never asked you to be that. I never asked you to be anything. I don’t even know where you got that idea that I wanted that to begin with. You think I was totally relaxed about you? I planned every time we met at a bar or nightclub or wherever. I asked San every time if you were coming. Do you know how stupid I sounded? How clingy I sounded? And you didn’t even tell anyone about me? I assumed-I was so stupid. I assumed you knew. I assumed you knew how I felt about you. I assumed you knew I’d rearrange my entire life for you if you’d just asked me. I wanted you to just ask me.” The water in the kettle roils, steam pouring from the mouth.

“I can’t.”

“You still can.”

The kettle beeps. Once. Twice. Three times.

It’s ignored.

Mingi’s hand is large. Not large in comparison to him, it fits him. His hand is large in comparison to yours. Red and warm from being clenched he offers one to you with an outstretched palm facing upwards. A universal gesture of peace. An offer to take it. He’s giving you permission to take it. If you want to-if you will have him. A chill runs down your spine. You can’t hold it anymore. You know your next breath you won’t be able to. Your diaphragm kicks as you exhale as you lose the fight and tears run freely down your cheeks. The colors of the floorboards and Mingi’s black coat swirl together swimming behind your eyes. You sob, full body gut-wrenching sobs. Sobbing in a way that you’ll know you won’t be able to stand for much longer. Mingi catches you in his arms, burying your face in his sweater. He braces you as you give yourself into his embrace, letting your tears soak into him, slowly and rhythmically stroking your spine. “I hurt- so much,” you manage between sobs, muffled by his chest.

He gently shushes you, “I know.” “I hurt you so much.” “I know,” he repeats, continuing to pet your back. “It’s been months.” He kisses the top of your head, “we have years.”

“I’m not even wearing a bra,” you wail. “I know,” he chuckles, a small explosion of breath escaping through his nose. Tentatively you wrap your arms around his waist. He’s less squishy than you remember but the chunky knit of the sweater makes up for it. It feels so good to hold him. Your heart seizes and you hold him tighter more forcefully burying your face into his chest. Having calmed down slightly your face burns with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I love you.” Mingi chuckles again, “can you just say it? Without the caveat?” “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The thud his coat makes as it hits your floor is impressively loud and deep. It’s almost not fast enough for your hands as they sneak under the hem of his sweater to help him pull it over his head. Mingi looks you over, in your disheveled state he makes you feel like you’re wearing the sexiest pair of lingerie ever. 

“Say it again.” “I love you.” He scoops you up, like the first night, your legs naturally wrapping around his waist. “Again.” “I love you.”

You see it again, the stars in his eyes, the gentle part of his lips. He’s holding his whole world in his eyes and you are his whole world. “I love you. I need you. I want you. Please.” “Yes. Please. Yes. I-” The time for words is over, your lips meeting in a frenzied kiss. Every kiss feels like life giving air entering your lungs for the first time. Hot and heavy his hands roam under your ratty shirt, just to touch your skin, to memorize the curve of your spine. You don’t even notice that the two of you have passed your couch and into the corner of your apartment that they’d sold to you as a bedroom until Mingi tosses you like a ragdoll into the center of your mattress. It only takes a single tug to rid you of your sweatpants, “no underwear?” Mingi raises an eyebrow. “It’s my apartment, my rules,” you sass back at him. His belt buckle clinks loosely, “our rules. It’s our rules now.” Mingi leaves your side briefly backtracking out of the french doors that quarden off your bedroom. He grinning as he turns, brandishing a wand in his hand. “Same model?” “Same model.” You roll your eyes He kisses you, “you missed me.”

“You’re such a fuck-” your sentence cuts off as he presses the vibrating head to your clit. In another person's hands the tool takes on new excitement, the thrill of the unknown tickles in the base of your spine. Heat spreading from your belly you rock yourself grinding down on the toy, chasing your imminent release. “But I missed you,” you whine, hand wandering toward his thigh. “Oh now you admit it, now that you want to cum…” he teases, suddenly removing the toy, denying you your peak as you groan. “Do you want a cond-” He can’t even finish the sentence before you reply, “no, please, Mingi, I need you. I need to feel you. Need you now.” Locking eyes, the power of your demand lands squarely in his chest. Wasting no time he climbs between your knees, eyebrow raised, lightly questioning. 

“I usually-” “Just fucking-just fuck me.” Mingi kisses the tip of your nose as he positions himself at your entrance. The stretch as he breaches your core is painful, your nose wrinkling, brows knitted in concentration. A small pained squeak catches in your throat. “Babe. Breathe.” You hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath. Releasing with a sigh you reconcentrate, your fingers finding your clit to massage the hurt away with pleasure. “That’s it, there you go-” he encourages sweetly, pulling back before burying his face in the crook of your neck and filling you to the hilt. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingertips digging in and arms pulling him into your body. The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, gasping and panting, sweat slicking the limited space between you. “You’re just so fucking tight for me,” he marvels, chest heaving against you. Rubbing the bridge of his nose against the side of your neck he nuzzles you, “can I-please-please let me mark you.” “Mark me,” you reply breathlessly. “It’s fine. I want them.” Immediately he bites down on your shoulder leaving you squealing and writhing, cunt clasping around his member. The mark lands at the column of your neck, his lips sucking harshly at the delicate skin. It’s feral and messy, his ministrations sure to leave purple conspicuous bruises for the next few days. The mix of pain and pleasure as you ride him from below, grinding your clit into his pelvis as he ravages your neck and chest, overwhelms every bit of sense left in your body. You cant your hip forward to accept more of him inside you, sweat dripping down the backs of your thighs. When he lets you go it's only to place the vibrator at your clit once more, watching your stomach contract with every clench of your walls around him. “Please, please cum, please Mingi, please.” You mewl. Orgasms quickly overload you, unable to count the spaces between the highs any longer. “Don’t worry love,” he leans over, sandwiching the wand between you, “I’ll give you everything.” Forehead pressed to you, nearly folding you in half, his hips smack into you. The sound of skin on skin echos in your apartment, hopefully drowning out your wailing. Finally your mind has permission to let go, float away into oblivion as your lover fills you completely. Warm and wet and sticky and overstimulated and exhausted both of you collapse. Mingi tugs the still whirring implement from between the two of you. Your nerves buzzing in total bliss, still shaking under him. Arms wrapping up and around his shoulders you hug him to you once more, cock still pulsing and filling your aching pussy. A soft curse escapes with every twitch passed from him into you. “Idonwannamove,” you slur, curling up around him. “Juswannasleep.” Panting he kisses you, “you should use the bathroom.” “I know-” you elongate the word into a whine. Mingi tries to slide off you but you fall sideways with him, clinging like a koala to him, drifting in and out of consciousness. It isn’t until his dick falls from you with a soft plop that you take the impending threat of dripping cum seriously and waddle off to the bathroom, followed closely by Mingi. “I can clean you,” he offers. “You seemed to like that before-” he stops sheepishly mid-sentence. You stare at him on the other side of the door frame as you flex your pelvic floor. “It’s fine. I got it.” “No I mean…I want to. I want to help you. I liked it, before, I mean, that one time-” he trails off again before stepping onto the tile floor. Your miniscule bathroom is immediately claustrophobic with his added presence. Mingi has to basically climb into the tub to turn on the faucets, drawing the plastic curtain around him as he does so. “At least shower with me?” He sounds hopeful. It’s that hopeful tone that wins you over, twanging your heartstring with a perfect harmonic vibration. “My shower isn't really made for two.” You check between your thighs, fields swirling at the bottom of the porcelain bowl. “It's really weird…the shower head is actually-” you hear the thunk of the toggle between the tub faucet and overhead shower a half a second too late. The curtain rustles dramatically as Mingi’s torso hits it, jolting back in surprise. “Yeah so the shower head is actually in the center of the tub. I was going to warn you but-” you giggle, “I guess I don’t have to now.” Mingi’s damp head pokes out from the curtains, “okay so you have to now.” Long fingers securing themselves around your wrist. “I was going to anyway.” Carefully you join him, shoulders shrugging upwards as the water hits you. Half of you is warm, the other half suddenly violently freezing. Your eyes close instinctively against the droplets ricocheting off of you, the wall, the curtain, and Mingi. You whine and pout, this is the part of the shower process you hate most. The transitionary period between fully wet and fully dry where your body tenses and freezes in place unable to decide which direction it naturally wants to go, into the water or away from it. Standing there half in half out of the water with your eyes screwed shut you feel him, arms wrapping around you and guiding you into his chest. “Let’s warm you up, okay?” His voice rumbles through your back. Carefully the two of you perform a dance, legs tangling and various parts brushing by each other, so that your face is in his chest and your back is to the steady jet of the showerhead. Mingi’s height allows him to dodge the majority of the back spray as the water hits you. Warm washcloth in hand he lathers your body in large circles, the grapefruit scent of the soap filling the room. Each repeated circle hypnotizes you, lulling you into a passive sleepy state, head relaxing on his chest. With every pass you become mushier, rocking into the arc of his scrubbing. Cheeks damp you don’t know if its tears or water drops but it doesn’t matter to him, he raises your chin and kisses them all the same.

“There’s no reason for you to have to do everything alone. I’ll always be right here.”