#David Fine-touch

[porternash]

had a Thought today and now I’m :/

[sanguinaryrot]

it does appear that there’s some context that I’m missing in the first chapter but. Uhhhhhh. I’ll figure it out later

[gtgbabie0]

Hi! :) could you write fluff spencer reid x pregnant bau reader on a gala of sorts at their work where he is all careful and protective with her

-Spencer Reid x reader

Of course lovely, it’s a little short but I hope you enjoy nonetheless! 💕

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“Give me your hands sweetheart,” Spencer says, pulling you away from everyone else as he takes out a small bottle of hand sanitiser from his pocket. You do as he says without saying a word, you learnt the hard way not to question him any more.

You watch with a soft smile as he squeezes the bottle, the liquid is cold against your palms and you’re quick to rub it in. “Have you eaten yet?“ he asks, bringing a protective hand to settle against your lower back nudging you closer to him.

“Mhm, don’t worry David did let me go hungry” you smile reaching to tuck his hair behind his ear, he smiles gently as he leans into your touch.

He knows he has a habit of over-worrying, especially when it comes to you and you can’t blame him considering how much he’s lost in the past, perhaps that’s why you felt riddled with guilt after you had snapped at him this morning, immediately diving into teary eyed apologies.

“Good, do you need to sit down?” He smiles, he can’t help but ask. His palm soothes your back as he watches you roll your shoulders.

Your hand rests against your bump when you feel your baby kick, interrupting your train of thought, your eyes light up and you don’t waste a moment, bringing Spencer’s hand to your belly.

“We’re fine” you smile, watching his face practically beam with amazement.

“I know- I know” Spencer whispers, as if he's trying to calm any wondering thoughts he has, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

In all honesty, Spencer wasn’t sure he was ready for a child when you had first told him, and he still doubts himself from time to time but there’s something warm that blooms within his chest when you ask him to get whatever odd foods you’re craving or when you gently tug his hand to feel the baby kick.

“You’ll tell me if you need anything, yeah?” He whispers, and you can tell by the way he approaches the question that he’s being careful not to swamp you with his worry.

You immediately lean into him, pressing a kiss against his cheek, “Of course I will” you promise, taking his hands in yours.

You watch as his eyes scan across the room, and you know for a fact that he’s checking for anything that might end up being dangerous for you. He’s already baby-proofed the entire house… just for you.

“You know what? Maybe some fresh air” you suggest, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea the room was quite stuffy after all.

This seems to get his attention, his eyes finding yours once again. “Okay, yeah we can do that” Spencer smiles, his hand settles against the small of your back as he guides you through the room.

The room was dimly lit and packed with people from different precincts, and the mixture of light chatter, music and trying to watch over you was starting to become far too overwhelming for him. He was ready to go home a long time ago.

Your hand grasps his arm as you both walk side by side, your path abruptly stopped by someone who clearly wasn’t looking where they were going as they walk straight into you.

Spencer has never been quick to anger as he was in that moment, immediately pulling you behind him as he confronts the younger man with a scowl. “Watch where you’re going” he snaps as he looks back at you, making sure you're okay before looking back at the very obviously inebriated man.

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t see her, I-" he tries to explain himself, panicked as he makes eye contact with you. Spencer doesn’t let him finish his sentence.

“Wasn’t looking where you were going?” He scoffs, and you take the initiative to reach for his hand, trying to stop this from getting out of hand.

You let out a sigh of relief as you notice Derek walking towards you with a soft smile, “I got this” he mouths at you, before nodding to Spencer.

“Come on Spence” you whisper, tugging on his hand as he notices Derek, he gets the memo and he turns around to you. His thumb soothes over your knuckles and his heart seems to find a calmer pace, he takes a deep breath once he realises you're okay.

His eyes soften as you pull him towards the door, the cool air against your skin alleviates your stress and you're finally able to breathe. “Are you okay, you’re not hurt?” He asks, sitting down next to you on the bench, he takes his blazer and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Yeah I’m alright, are you? looked like you were about to start throwing punches back there” You rest your head against his shoulder, enjoying his body warmth that blankets over you as he wraps an arm around you and it only drives you to shuffle closer to him.

“I should’ve brought my cane” he chuckles, his cheek resting against the top of your head, and you both break out in laughter at the idea of him weaponising his cane.

The pair of you stay like that for a moment, enjoying the peacefulness of the cool evening. “I think I’m ready for bed” you tell him and he’s already calling a taxi.

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[666soulz]

rapper!connie first run in with fashionvlogger!reader was…interesting. you answered a question from a fan on twitter who asked if you could style one rapper who would it be? you replied saying, ‘connie springer, his music don’t match his style. he dressing like a regular hood nigga when he should be dressing like a bad bitch with a dark lair. pisses me off.’

eren snorted when he seen the tweet and sent it to connie. at first he was a little offended and was about to clean you right on up, but when he saw the comments agreeing??? he had to find out why your opinion mattered so much. so the the first thing he did was tap that instagram link. 550k followers. hmm. he seen that plenty of his celebrity mutuals followed you. 

                           hollowsoul

followed by thegirljt, gunna, liluzivert and others. 

when he tapped on your pinned photo he almost drooled at your beauty, your body, and the outfit you were wearing.  you indeed had that shit on to the T. connie caught himself scrolling through your feed as his anemic ass shook ice into his mouth. you sure did have a love for all black outfits. 

he taps on that message button and types in two words. ‘style me’ 

your phone lights up as you stir around the meat in the pan. you put your glass of wine down to pick up your phone. 

instagram 

new message 

you tap on the notification and it takes you to the dm. you didn’t really have a shocked reaction, but you were surprised that he even bothered to to dm you. connie was semi private. he has moments where he’s very active on social media then he becomes a ghost. 

‘sure long as your okay with me vlogging’

connie puts his cup of ice down beside his feet warning his dog, Choppo, to not touch before replying to you. 

‘i don’t mind. you free on friday?’

   ‘i am’

ight let’s meet at the outlet mall on Lafayette @ 1 then. you mind if me, my friends, and security come?

 okay sounds good and i don’t mind at all.  see you on friday x

trust me you were less boring in person. connie was lacking in first impression as he was late to you guys shopping date. 

you didn’t mind though, you were right in dior trying on sunglasses. “how these look y’all?” you ask your camera. “i don’t know they’re kinda cunt..” you say looking in the small mirror. you didn’t even notice connie and his crew walking in and walking towards you. 

“i like them.”

you look behind you, seeing connie and his friends. connie took you in while you were distracted and you were better in person. you were in an all black outfit, of course, and you looked fucking beautiful. 

“they’re cute right?” you smile looking up at the 6’1 FINE ass dominican man. one thing that  also irritated you about connie’s style is that it doesn’t emphasize his face. connie face card was something different. He had beautiful features, hazel eyes, low lids, some pretty plump lips, and he was pulling off a buzz cut like david beckham in the 2000’s. not many people can do that. 

“yeah, sorry I was late. had to drop my sister off to her dance practice.” connie says you wave him off, “oh I'm not worried about it. it gave me time to think of what stores i want to go to.” you say taking your glasses off. “hey it’s nice to meet y’all,” you said looking at the two men behind connie. eren and ony. they weren’t a group but they put out some collab albums. those albums were heat, and was always playing when you were working out or cleaning. 

“we’re starting here by the way. can’t go wrong with dior. do you have a favorite fashion brand or designer?” you ask connie as you walked over to the men’s section. 

“uhm nike?”

“nike..? you know what i’m just..i’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that.“ you say shaking your head in disappointment. ony was laughing to himself in the background cause he could hear it in your voice. 

“what’s wrong with nike?” connie smiles as you picked up a dior sweater. “well first off all nike is a sports brand i’m talking about a fashion brand like rick owens, true religion, moschino. 

“what’s a moschino?” connie scrunches his face and he was dead serious. 

“do you know who jeremy scott is? law roach?”

“are these random white people?”

you looked at connie like he was a little lost baby, pouting your glossy lips. “aw you are so cute.” you pinch his cheek. “this is my favorite part. teaching you the ins and out of fashion.” you smile pushing an outfit into his chest. “go try this on.”

connie found out that you were a bossy little thing. if he didn’t like something, “oh well too bad you’re getting it anyways.” ony and eren enjoyed seeing him get bossed around as he was usually the demanding one in the studio. you had fun telling connie stuff about fashion and how to put together a good outfit. 

connie left that outlet with a new wardrobe, friend, and crush. a very big crush that his friends noticed. the way connie blushed like some nerdy school boy every time you’d hype him up. you noticed as well and found it absolutely adorable. 

“do that lil pose that you do. period!” 

you enjoyed Connie's presence. He was a mix between laidback and hyper. like when he got comfortable around you, he got to cracking jokes. even joking you. picking up some ugly ass cowgirl boots and saying, “this looks like something you’d like.” and you’d just give him a little playful glare telling him to not play with you. 

you left Connie with a homework assignment. learn how to use pinterest and make a pinterest board. 

[slasherscream]

the absolute INSANITY of the pushing your s/o away thing with the crazy ass boy gang… it’s like triggering a dog’s prey drive but for serial killers w abandonment issues

CRAZY ASS BOYS GANG + PUSHING THEIR HAND AWAY/REJECTING AFFECTION

❥ who gets pissed the fuck off ❥

Billy Loomis - Is irritated off rip. Billy plays it cool but he needs physical affection from you. He’s casual about it so he flies under the radar, but this is a stage five clinger. He’s always doing something small. Touching your fingers. A hand on your back. Neck. Sitting behind you instead of putting you directly in his lap. It’s little stuff. Hovering. Smack his hand away one of these times and his jaw clenches right away. “What the hell is your problem?” Please snuggle up to him and don’t start world war 3. It’s not worth the joke. 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Quick question, why do this to yourself? Kevin does not need, nor does he particularly enjoy, physical contact. Period. He is gracious enough to give you physical contact because he knows you’re built different (pathetic). For you to then turn around and spit in the face of him being kind enough to meet your needs? …. Quite crazy of you. The look he gives you is pure confusion because he’s honest to God baffled. What do you want to accomplish here? Go ahead and start begging now, because he’s not touching you for a long while. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Swings wildly between damn near dodging any physical affection you attempt to give him to hanging off you like a squid on a ship. No in-between. For you to have the audacity to reject him when he’s feeling clingy? How dare you. He doesn’t have to beg anyone for attention! Did you forget who you’re dating? Doesn’t even care if you did it with obvious playfulness. He’s sensitive. He’s tender. He’s a bitch. He goes to get up and leave entirely and you have to grab him and beg him to cuddle so this doesn’t become a week long cold war. Happy ego stroking! 

Stu Macher - What you’re not about to do is ruin his mood. Baby, he’s about to ruin yours. How about that? If you push his hands off you once he enjoys a little playful bitchiness. Playing hard to get. He likes to chase, it’s cool. Twice? Okay…. We’re irritating him. Three times? He’s gonna grab your hand, stop smiling, and stare at you. When he places his hand back where it belongs, on your thigh, don’t act up again. He could make your whole week go to shit. Don’t start wars you won’t win. He’s the king of playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. 

Nathan Prescott - Has to bluster and get visibly pissed off because he is rejection sensitive to a degree that is astounding, frankly. Let you see him upset after he tried to be affectionate and you said no? Hah! Not fucking likely. Being physically affectionate in the first place doesn’t come easy to him. Quality time is more his speed. Even worse if it wasn’t a sexual advance he was making. He tried to wrap an arm around you and you shrug him off? You’ll be lucky to get a hello out of him for the next week. Good luck soldier.

David Mccall - Outwardly, he pretends to be despondent and sheepish when you bat his hand away. He’s using sadness as a shield. If he’s sad then you might feel bad and give in. He’ll use any tool in his arsenal to get his way. One of his greatest skills is speaking in a soft voice, just shy of how you’d speak to a toddler, and telling you: “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” This is all to hide the fact that you rejecting him in any way, shape, or form makes him so angry he can barely think. You might be able to catch the rage hidden behind the veil. If you’re quick enough. David puts on a convincing show, but his gentle smile is twitching at the edges.

❥ who gets sad and mopey ❥

Jordan Li - Oh you pushed them away? No, that’s cool, it’s totally fine. You can want space. Everyone’s entitled to their own space bubble. Of course. Are you having a bad day? Are you mad at them? Did they do something wrong? Did they piss you off? These are the types of questions Jordan is going to “casually” ask for the next ten minutes while they sit really close to you. They’re not touching you! They always sit with their legs spread so wide. Their arm isn’t around you, it’s on the back of the couch. You’re nitpicking here, babe. They’re staring at you with their big brown eyes. No, they didn’t get any closer while you weren’t looking. 

Josh Washington - Why would you do this to him? Don’t push his hand off you unless you mean it or you’re being obviously playful about it. If you pretend to be mad at him while you do it, no matter how unconvincing of an actor you are, he will believe you. Sensitive king. He also won’t go to touch you again until you initiate the contact. Physical touch is reassuring and comforting to him but even he (category five clinger) gets touch aversion at times. As observant as he is, he knows some people are uncomfortable asserting their boundaries, so they’ll try to soften the blow of saying no by being “playful”. He cannot take the risk! You could mean it but don’t want to hurt his feelings. Josh interprets many playful no’s as real ones. Better safe than sorry.

❥ secret third worse thing ❥

Sebastian Valmont - Doesn’t take it for anything more than what it is. If you’re being playful he recognizes it. If you’re seriously not wanting to be touched at any given moment he understands that as well. However, in the case of being playful, you’ve started a war you can’t win. Because, as much as Sebastian enjoys chasing you…  Sebastian also likes to be chased. Ten minutes from now you’ll go to give Sebastian’s cheek a kiss and he’s going to dodge you. Hard. To such an extent it’s bordering on insult. He’ll be wearing a cat that got the canary grin all the while. 

Jason Dean/JD - Doesn’t take you seriously even if you are dead serious. I’m sorry, you’ve discovered his worst character trait by far. Most boundaries are a joke to him. He always wants to touch you. He loves you! He craves you like a drug. You should feel the same for him, in equal measure and desperation. So why wouldn’t you want him touching you? Holding you close. He’s so gentle with you (usually). His arms should feel like home. No matter how long a day you’ve had. No matter how overwhelmed you might be with sound, sight, touch. In JD’s eyes you’re one soul in two bodies. He always wants you near. He knows you want the same. You’re just a little dramatic sometimes.

[itsthestutterforme]

Terrible Liar (Jack Reacher Drabble)

Summary: You were sparing with a coworker when he got a little rough, leaving you with a bruised cheek. You avoided Reacher for as long as you could but it didn’t last very long.

Warnings/Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, protective Reacher, soft!Reacher, and a little sub!Reacher 👀, sexual themes (riding, p in v penetration), MINORS DNI

Prompt credit @writing-with-emy : “Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” “Yes,” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

“He’s wound up tight again. This is our second missed bust and he’s starting to get a little angsty.” Neagley explains to you over the phone.

“He’ll catch on if we keep doing this, Neagley.” You tell her.

“Or maybe he already knows and doesn’t mind seeing your pretty face.” She jests and you grimace, staring at your reflection through the glass in your cubicle

“What just happened?” She asks. “What are you talking about, Corporal?” You fire back.

“You just made a face,” “And the how did you- I’m not going to ask. I was sparring with Tiago the other day and his elbow clipped my cheek.”

“Shit,”

“Yeah,” you said with a sigh. You’re not proud of it, but you’ve been avoiding Reacher for this very reason.

It doesn’t matter if you said it was an accident or not. If it was a man who did it, he would hold him responsible. Everything was black and white with him.

Your relationship with Reacher teeters between friends and.. something else.

Neither of you or him decided to put a label on it. But two things are known to everyone with eyes.

You don’t mess with the special investigators.

And if you touch Y/N, you’ll end up with a broken jaw.

“Well if anyone can keep him relaxed, it’s you.” “Come on, please.” She adds when you hesitate and you let out a groan of frustration.

“Fine,”

**

No one could miss the way Reacher’s shoulders relaxed when he walked back to his desk to find you sitting in his chair sipping on your milkshake.

Neagley and David found it particularly fascinating to see the hard, mountain of a man turn to mush at the mere sight of you.

“Isn’t it my favorite mountain man,” you tease, sliding the to go box from his favorite soul joint across the desk.

You place a brown bag on top of the to go container and a smile threatens to spread on Reacher’s face.

“Are those..?” He starts.

“Of course,” you take another sip of your milkshake and he digs into the bag, popping a hush puppy in his mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Is this to distract me from the fact that you’ve been avoiding me?” He starts, reaching back into the bag.

“I have not been avoiding you, Reacher.” “No?” “No,”

He stares at you for a moment and when you realize what he was doing, you set your milkshake down. Standing from the chair, you crossed your arms as you neared him.

Neagley and David watch the entire interaction like it’s their favorite sitcom. Which it is.

“You’re not trying to intimidating me like I’m one of your soldiers, are you Reacher?”

“Not at all,” he examines your features, his gaze falling to your bruising cheek that you covered with make up this morning.

“Please tell me you’re a better liar than this when you’re on missions,” you retort.

“I’m a better liar than you. That’s for sure.” “Do you really want to talk about who’s better?”

He reached back into the bag but you snatched the hush puppy out of his hands and took a bite out of it. He was shocked but not entirely surprised at the betrayal.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that the reason why you’re avoiding me has something to do with the make up on your face. Am I right?”

You finished the hush puppy and reached for your milkshake. “It’s just a scratch,” he finally pried out of you.

“From?” “Sparring with a friend,”

As amazing as the food smelled, it was long forgotten at his point. “Which friend?”

“Reacher,” “Answer the question,” he crosses his arms. “It was an accident,”

“No, the person was irresponsible when they weren’t practicing self control. It’s sparring, not boxing.” He seethes.

“He didn’t mean to. He apologized.”

His face hardens when you mention a him, although he suspected it was a man.

“I don’t care. I bet it was his idea, wasn’t it? To spar with you.” “Yes, but-” “Because he found you attractive and wanted an excuse to touch you,” he said matter of factly.

You were about to object but then you pondered about the past interactions you’ve had with Tiago.

You guess you could say that he’s been testing the waters with lingering touches and you subtly created distance between you.

You didn’t see Tiago as anything else besides a coworker honestly.

“You think so?”

“One hundred percent. In their eyes, you’re attractive and single so you’re considered free game.” He clarifies, clenching his jaw.

“That would be their mistake, wouldn’t it?” You state, causing him to look at you. He didn’t miss how your eyes drifted to his lips before returning to his eyes.

**

“Fuck, keep doing that.” He groans, his grip tightening on your hips as you bounced on his cock. His body twitched when you clenched around him hard.

Throwing your head back when the tip of his cock thrums over a gspot deep inside of you. His hands slide from your hips and wraps his arms around your chest to hold you in place when he drills into you from below.

You bounced quicker on him and a breath gets caught in his throat when he cums into the condom.

Your legs started to tremble when you slow your movements and rest your hands on his thick chest as you both tried to control your breathing.

Leaning up, he cupped the back of your head and pressed a messy kiss on your lips.

You lift your hips a bit and he slides out of you, not breaking the kiss just yet. He finally pulls away from you and takes off the condom before tossing it in your trash can in the bathroom.

“Well that was..” “Long overdue?” You finish and he chuckled before adding, “Definitely over due,”

You rolled on your back when you felt a cold air blowing from the vents. You snuggled deeper into the sheets but goosebumps still littered your skin.

“Cold already?” He states when he comes back into the bedroom to see you shivering under the covers.

“Don’t patronize me, mountain man.” You retort and he shakes his head at your antics.

He slides under the covers and wraps an arm over your frame to effortlessly pull you into his side.

You sigh when he rubs his warm hands over your smooth, bronze skin all the way to your ass.

“You’re really good at that you know,” “Mm, I know.” You smiled, relishing the moment his eyes rolled back when you first sank onto him.

“You’re really pretty when you do it too,” he brushes his nose against yours against yours.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Reacher.” You say against his lips, not wanting to kiss him just yet.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll gladly finish it.” He kisses you slow and passionately, his tongue smoothing over yours.

He cups your cheeks and you wince when his thumb grazes over the sensitive skin on your cheek.

“Sorry,” he apologizes when he pulls away from your face.

“It’s okay,” “No it’s not. Tell me who did this to you.”

“I’ll find out either way, Y/N.” He adds when you hesitate. “I’ll only tell you if you let me handle it first.”

“Fine,” “It was Tiago,” “That fucking prick,” he says lowly, gripping your thigh harshly.

“Are you sure I can’t punch him in the face?” He attempts to negotiate. “Yes,” “What if I just break his nose a little?”

“Reacher,” you scold.

[berrieluv]

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: remus dies his hair red and you go feral.

kiki says: i saw this pics of david and i couldn’t help it. this history contains smut, MDI please, it mentions reader and remus being in his twenties and in college. reader is a horn dog but with a bf like remus who wouldn’t. there’s mentions of cum play, oral sex (male receiving) but it’s mostly domestic life fluff i think. sorry if somethings is wrong, english isn’t my first language.

ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚. ʚ 𖦹₊˚.

smut below the cut.

remus lupin had no right being this extraordinary specimen of a man he was. he was already too cool for you to handle, the mastermind behind every marauder plan, one of the top students in all his classes, what’s more attractive than a boy who loved to see the world burning but never burn with it.

sometimes you pinched yourself every time he called you ‘baby’ because nothing felt real next to him. it didn’t feel like you were on earth.

“no” you signed as soon as your boyfriend entered your shared department with a half smirk “no, no, no, no, NO!”

the last ‘no’ was higher and accompanied of a tantrum, the kitchen flannel was now on the floor and you walked straight to the bedroom. remus followed you, frowning in silence and found you lying in bed.

“what?” he chuckled.

“how could you do that do me?”

“what did i do” your arms start to violently move, pointing at his — now orange — hair. “well, sirius had a perm and he said i would look good”

“sirius had a perm?” you were really curious about what would made him take that decision, and more, how did it turned out?

“yes, never mind. what’s wrong with my hair?” he said, touching his already messy hair “i can change it if it bothers you that much”

you turn to face the pillow and take a second to scream against it.

“you look really fucking hot” you respond nonchalantly, as if you weren’t throwing the biggest tantrum of your early twenties. “it’s not fair”

“you’re like this because i look good? i thought i looked hideous. i thought i looked like those unemployed people who drop out of college to start a band”

“you look really good” you say “and definitely knowing you’re going to the university helps your character a lot”

“then what?”

you sigh in pain “i masturbate at the thought of you a lot, remmy”

he chuckles “thank you, baby”

“a lot, remmy” you emphasize “i mean it”

“i masturbate thinking of you too”

“yeah, the two times you’ve ever masturbate, and i’ve always finish it for you”

“what’s that?”

“you don’t like masturbating”

“well, no” he starts “i have you. and even before of that i wasn’t a fan, sorry?”

“not the point” you discard his apology “the thing here is, that doesn’t affect you as much as it does to me” you feel suddenly embarrassed, hidding your head on the pillow while remus sits on the mattress with your legs on his thighs “i can see myself getting out of bed later thanks to you. taking more time showering because of you. and what when you’re not here? i’ll just think about that stupid hair and have to do it”

“c’mmom” he laughs “you don’t masturbate at the mere sight of me”

“you don’t know what’s going on under those sheets, remus”

“fine. fine. fair enough” he kisses your shoulder “i don’t mean to brag, baby, but you make me feel really desired”

“you are, remmy. why do you think i make sure to kiss you every time we’re at the school cafeteria?”

“because you love me?”

“no, silly” he looks at you offended “well, yes, that too. but i just have to make sure everyone knows you’re with me”

remus chuckles again, that’s the only thing he knows how to do in moments like this one, where he felt so close to you and in his mind was only one thing.

fuck you.

in any way he could, he just wanted you to warm his cock.

he threw your shirt somewhere in the room and now he was on top of you. both of his legs at your sides and he just took his time kissing your lips and caressing your face.

he took off his clothes as soon as he could, he was an eager and busy man.

remus fucked like he was being chased. his goal was making you cum as fast as he could while that motherfucker just smirked and edged himself, watching the whimpering mess he made you, you couldn’t take any more and yet he still hasn’t cum.

“my pretty, pretty, baby”

remus sat on your belly, his already hard cock was resting between your breasts and he holds himself onto the bead board with one hand while the other toys with your boob.

you moan in his lips and he just has to bite your lips.

“my pretty, horny princess” he’s making fun of you. you know it by the smirk forming in his stupid handsome face “eager, baby?”

he knows you are, you always are. remus starts to move his hips against your torso, his balls humping against your skin.

a few seconds before that, remus starts getting closer to your mouth, finally standing with his knees in a way that his cock is directly in your lils.

you of course, receive him with an open mouth, how could you not when he looks this hot.

his balls are resting on your boobs and his big cock is now inside of your mouth, he toys with your face as if it was nothing, like you don’t have a gag reflex at all.

remus caresses your face with a soft completely opposed to his strokes. every time you suck his dick he makes a mess of you, he pulls out for a second and slaps your pretty face, you moan and he smiles, how can this moment not be perfect?

“you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever slapped”

you chuckle, you’re also the only girl he’s ever slapped and you intended to continue like that.

remus kisses you after putting his cock on your mouth again and this time you raise your head so he could hit deeper, he holds your hands as soon as he sees you trying to touch him and he laughs every time he felt you wanting him to let go. he pulls out of you and he hears your cries, because you wanted more.

“what, baby?” he smiles, leaning down on you to kiss you “you know i wouldn’t cum right there. s’ not much like me, is it?”

and it wasn’t, but you thought that maybe that hair would make him change his mind and not be so cruel about filling your mouth with cum, his cum.

“don’t be mean, remmy” you manage to say while trying to get back your breath. “s’ just not fun. you don’t cum. and i don’t cum, why are we even having sex?”

he smirks and raises his hands in a way of declaring himself innocent, of what? you wouldn’t know, remus’ brain overworked while having sex and yours simply stopped working.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

and, as if being under his body with your face covered in saliva and his pre-cum wasn’t humiliating enough, he had to make you bed.

“yes, please, remmy” and you were weak. you would beg if he wanted you to. “please, please, i need you, need your cum, remmy”

“wow, you’re unbelievable. how do you look this pretty while begging? i would look embarrassing”

“s’ part of my charm”

“let’s have you cumming, baby, shall we? if you’re good enough i’ll stuff you with my cum too”

“not too many rounds, remmy. just cum”

he laughs, but you’re not kidding. he kisses your temple and nods.

and by the end of the night you’re a complete mess. there’s cum leaking from your pussy and you can still taste it in your mouth, your breasts are sparkling with it too and remus tries to get you up to take a shower but you’re way too proud of yourself.

remus lupin came four times that night, and here you were thinking that red hair didn’t make him change his mind, because there was no way a brunette remus lupin would cum more than twice the same day.

“and ruin my victory that soon?” you responded when he begged again for you to go to the bathroom with him “let me be, remmy”

“baby, i promise i’ll cum more but please. you have to pee and shower”

“i’m just so happy right now, remmy”

“have a shower and i’ll stuff your pretty pussy with cum again for you to sleep like that, fine? but at least you’re clean for the night”

and just like that, your body was already receiving the cold drops of water.

[two-red-lungs]

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

[tvxqmylove]

Let's raise our glasses to Izzy and OFMD creators

I just have to get it off my chest, I understand Izzy's death came as a shock and very upsetting event for many, and a lot of people are going on and on about how he deserved a better fate and how he was not just some tool to serve someone else's story. Please try to calm down and see the bigger picture. 

It is now clear that he was always meant to die. It was foreshadowed in the first minute of the second season, a ridiculous, villain's death. Being the symbolic obstacle to Stede and Ed's happiness. 

Of course that was the wrong way for him to go. When he confessed to his crush Blackbeard he got shot by him, almost died, begged to be killed, and then he even tried to kill himself. Still didn't work. It wasn’t his time yet and that was the wrong way for him to go. When he learned that he was loved and cared for after all, just not in the way he expected, he changed. He became positive, he became forgiving. Then he stopped being miserable he started genuinely wishing for the happiness of others as well, instead of being bitter about it. His death might not have a point but his life did. He had the crew's and Ed's and even Stede's back, and they knew it. As David Jenkins stated, he played the role of a wise mentor that was passing along his life experiences to others. Then it was his time. Also, as foreshadowed, he symbolically took away Blackbeard, and opened a way for Stede and Ed as well.

A happy ending is not only walking off to sunset with a lover, taking up a new job or walking into a house of your family and petting your dog before you close the door. A good death, and a life well-lived is a happy ending. Leaving behind people that loved you is a happy ending. This was a happy ending for him. 

He lived the way he wanted, as a pirate, an infamous one that has received respect and recognition. Then he resolved the parts of his life that became problematic and toxic, he repaired the relationships

that was broken, he forgave the people he needed to forgive. After going through hell, he was basically a bubble of positivity, going around giving solid advices, encouraging people and partying. He was done. He gave the best damn speech of his life at a bar like giving his own eulogy and it was awesome. He died at the arms of the person he loved the most. 

Yes he could have had more, everyone that ever died could have had more. But he died gracefully and complete, surrounded by people he loved and cared about, knowing that they will be fine. That was his story. I am sad that he died, but he died beautifully, best you can hope for in a pirate life. And he will live on, in the hearts of the people he touched by his existence. 

Finally, never harass the creators. It is their hard work that gave us Izzy in the first place. Trust their creative process, and afterwards take it or leave it, do not harass them and try to put them in a box of your personal demands. If so, what kind of 3rd season can we even expect?

[little-sleepy-owl]

ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕜 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣,

who is a virgin and wants him to be their first. mostly gender neutral, but there's one use of "girl/boy", coz I couldn't come up with the alternative that would fit my vision.

damn, I didn't expect I will have so much fun writing this one. for all Husker lovers out there. hope this is good <3.

warnings: not explicitly, but still smutty, daddy kink mention (have you heard Keith David's voice? there is NO way I would ignore this opportunity), biting mention.

well, he didn't expect that.

forgive him if he laughs. “really, you died a virgin? how old were you, fifteen?”

actually curious how this even happened. were you never attracted to anyone that way? or was no-one attracted to you? if so, those people were blind.

somewhat surprised you want him to be your first. are you really sure? isn't there a better candidate?

well, he is not gonna reject the offer.

he's an old-fashioned man. he might look like someone who would just drag you to his room to do the deeds, but in truth, this fellow is a hopeless romantic.

you will get a proper date. not exactly a fancy one, but very thoughtful and sweet.

a table for two right in the Hotel, some lit candles, all other patrons and staff chased away for the evening. he will dress especially nicely for you and even prepare dinner.

(it's actually ordered, but you don't need to know that.)

quiet music, slow dancing. chaste compliments, but his voice is so deep and low, tickling your ear lightly, it still feels kinda suggestive. oh, he's very smooth when he wants to be.

his hands start to wander quite quickly tho. but can you blame him? the man can only have that much patience, and it's not like you both are not aware of what it is all leading to.

just remind him to retrieve into the bedroom, or else he might go on you right at the same table you both dinned on. unless that's what you want, of course.

a king of foreplay.

he takes things slow. madly so. it's almost like he's lazy. his hands move leisurely over your heated skin, and it takes so much time for his hot, wet kisses to go down the side of your jaw and cross your neck to finally reach your collarbones.

he purrs. you don't even have to touch him, he just marvels so much when he touches you, it gets him purring non-stop.

but also, try gently caressing the base of the wings. I assure you, you've never heard those noises from him before.

he doesn't talk much, but when he does… you can't help but blush to the tips of your ears.

hot breath, voice hoarse, a quiet praise, a small chuckle. doll, babe, sweetheart, good girl/boy.

if you respond well to the last one, expect him to use the “daddy” card, too.

don't think he will do all the work. quite the opposite, actually. he will lay down and make you strangle his hips with a sly smirk on his lips.

“don't you want to choose your own pace now, hun?”

truly the lazy cat.

oh, but don't worry. If you get tired, he will take his turn too. can't have you disappointed on your first time after all.

this man has technique. he makes you feel so good so seemingly effortlessly, it's crazy.

will ask if you're okay with a bit of a biting. it's really hard to resist for him, especially on the verge of climax.

mind you, he's not finishing before you do. maybe even before you do twice.

nope, no afterglow cuddles until you drink some water and at least have a towel to get a bit cleaner. after that, he's all yours.

covers you with his wings, while tackling you close to him.

initiates a lil’ talk about everything. did you like it? was there something you'd rather him not do?

he's not insecure, he just wants to communicate properly and prefers doing it as soon as possible.

everything's fine? good.

now you know he's purring when he sleeps cuddling with someone. what a cute kitty.

[heartthrobin]

please love me, like the wave does the shore

aaron hotchner x female!reader

wc: 7.9k

warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime

an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)

summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.

Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.

Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.

"We have fucking nothing!"

Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.

"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.

Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.

"You know that's not enough."

Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.

The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.

Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.

"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."

Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.

Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.

"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."

The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.

Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.

"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.

The team leader's jaw was tight.

He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.

Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"

Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."

"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.

The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.  

Hotch nodded stiffly.

"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."

There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.

"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"

"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."

Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"

Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.

"Like me."

Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.

It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.

Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."

You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."

It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.

You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.

It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.

Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.

Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.

What really made it difficult, was Hotch.

In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.

With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.

It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.

When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.

You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.

The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.

You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.

The only person who really knew anything was Emily.

It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"

And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.

You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."

He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"

Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."

The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.

You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.

"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.

Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.

Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."

It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.

Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.

"I suppose that means it’s me then."

Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.

"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."

You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.

Instead, he turned back to Spencer.

"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."

Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.

Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.

God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.

"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.

"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."

Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.

She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."

Your stomach churned.

-

Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.

At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.  

It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.

The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.

With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.

Penelope was talking over the car speaker.

"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."

"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"

Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.

A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.

The last two days had been painful.

You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.

Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."

It was easy for her to say.

Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.

Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—

"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."

Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47

"Thank you Garcia."

"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."

"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.

Heat rushed over your face.

You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"

Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.

"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."

The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."

The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.

"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."

It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

But you nodded anyways.

It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.

Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.

The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.

Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."

The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.

He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."

Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.

Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.

You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.

"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."

You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.

He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."

The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.

A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."

Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.

"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."

"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"

Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.

Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.

Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.

His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.

"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.

"Hm?"

You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."

Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.

"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.

"That sounds wonderful—"

Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."

The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.

"Y-Yes, of course sir."

You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.

Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.

His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.

Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.

You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.

"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"

He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."

The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.

A gasp escaped you.

The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.

It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.

There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.

"Hotch—"

Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.

You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.

His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.

This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.

Eight people were dead.

Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.

Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.

He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.

It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.

When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.

But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.

He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.

"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.

Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.

"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."

There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.

Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.

Behind him you were doing the same.

He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.

You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.

"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.

"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.

He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.

You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."

Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.

"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.

You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.

Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,

We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!

Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.

Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!

Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.

The page crinkled beneath his fingers.

"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."

The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.

David's voice still rung in his ears:

"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."

You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."

Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."

The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.

His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.

Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.

You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.

Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.

The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.

Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.

Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.

A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.

"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.

He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.

"It is." But his eyes never left you.

Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.

It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."

You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.

The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.

That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.

Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.

You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."

The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.

The room quietened.

"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.

He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.

Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."

You met Hotch's eye. Owners.

Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.

Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."

You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.

While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.

At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.

"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."

They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."

The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.

"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."

"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."

Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.

"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"

"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."

"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."

Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.

You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.

As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.

Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?

No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.

Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.

But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?

Eyes fell on you.

Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.

"We're the Thompsons. I'm James  and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."

His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"

"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"

Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."

You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.

He turned to you, "Darling?"

You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"

"Screwing the professor, very classy."

The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.

It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.

The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.

You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.

He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.

The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."

You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.

"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."

It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.

He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.

"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."

It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.

By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.

You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.

Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.

It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.

He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.

You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.

You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?

He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?

"James ..." you whispered.

He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.

"What's wrong?"

The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."

You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.

Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.

Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."

You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.

Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.

His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."

Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.

"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"

"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,

"—and savor the rest of your week."

Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.

Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.

However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.

The men had done the same, converging near the bar.

Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.

He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."

Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."

Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.

"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."

Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.

It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.

You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.

"So, Eleanor was it?"

Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.

Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.

"Yes. Jenna, right?"

The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.

"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."

Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."

Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.

"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.

Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."

"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"

Her words dripped in condescension.

"Just got lucky, what can I say?"

Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.

"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"

"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."

Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.

"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."

You smiled kindly at her.

"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"

Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.

A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.

He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.

A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.

A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."

He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.

Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."

The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.

A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.

While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.

Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's  energy was better placed elsewhere.

"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."

Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.

He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.

Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.

"I beg your pardon?"

Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"

The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.

One at Richard's side,  "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."

The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."

Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."  

Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.

"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."

Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.

His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.

Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.

A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.

He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.

Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"

You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.

The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.

On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.

"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.

Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."

You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."

Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.

The implication on your character made his blood boil.

"Let me guess, Atkins?"

You nodded, "How'd you know?"

"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."

Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.

"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"

"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."

The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.

You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.

It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.

Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.

Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.

The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—

The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.

You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.

The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.

The door clicked open.

"Put that away, you should get some sleep."

"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.

His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.

He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.

"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.

He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."

There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.

Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.

"I ... I think I'll take the couch."

Your heart sunk.

"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.

"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."

"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."

He hesitated.

"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.

But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.

The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.

His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.

There was quiet for a long moment.

The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.

It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.

You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.

"You did well today. I know you were nervous."

A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.

"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."

You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.

"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."

The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.

"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"

"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."

You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."

"Wasn't good?"

"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.

"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"

You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.

"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."

Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"

He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.

"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"

Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"

"Because they're really good at it."

The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.

"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.

"Worse than the dead wife joke?"

"Okay, maybe not that bad."

Quiet fell again.

"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."

Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."

"Goodnight."

-

Tags:

@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444

[klaus-littlestwolf]

The Lost Boys Sexy Mate Headcanon

David:

•He is the hardest to get to know in the group, the most closed off despite the fact that he talks to people the most as the ‘Leader’ of the group

•David is a Dom if ever there was one, he needs to be in control at all times

•He would never let anyone know it but he craves his mates attention desperately, and if you make the mistake of pulling away from him before he’s ready for you to move you will regret it

•He doesn’t always have to be touching you like some of his brothers with their mate but he does always need to be able to see you. If he looks back from scoping out the packs next meal and can’t immediately see you then he is instantly ready to slaughter whoever has stolen you from him!

•David loves blindfolding you when you play together. The trust you give him makes him the happiest vampire in the world, the faith that you have in him to not know whether he is going to run a feather over your flesh or his own fangs is incredibly arousing to him

•He’s a bit too controlling for you in the beginning but you adapt to it quickly, moving into the cave with your mate about a week after meeting him and turning that next weekend as David wasn’t okay with allowing his precious mate to be at risk a moment longer than she had to and you were completely fine with that

Dwayne:

•Dwayne is quite a bit like David when it comes to his mate, he doesn’t always have to be touching you but he does always have to see you however he finds the need to touch you quickly growing on him as you take to hanging off of him most of the time

•He shocked you when you found out how much of a cuddler he was when you’re alone or in the cave, his brothers sometimes like to tease him for how ‘clingy’ he is when you’re snuggled up on the couch but you just flip them off and run your fingers through his hair. He loves laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you as firmly as he could…honestly he just loves laying his face between your breasts

•He wasn’t a fan of toys until he caught you with your vibrator one night and from then on his favorite thing was taking you apart with it before stretching you out on his cock until you’re a boneless puddle unable to move

•Dwayne isn’t very jealous but it doesn’t mean he’s not possessive as fuck, he knows you would never be unfaithful but he believes only he should ever be allowed to touch you

•He quickly took to taking pictures of you. He ‘bought’ a Polaroid so that he could take pictures of you any time you were doing something he thought was ‘cute’ which was all the time. Dwayne knew that once you turned he would never be able to take pictures of you again so he wanted all he could get now. He convinced you to allow him to take some sexy pictures of you as well, he has many of you under him with your hair over the pillows and your breasts either in a lacy bra or exposed for his pleasure. His favorite picture however was an image of you in a black lacy bra and panty set, straddling his bike on the cliff by their cave at sunset that he carry’s in his wallet everywhere he goes

•2 weeks was all it took for him to get you to come and live with him in the cave, drinking his blood that very same night and joining their eternal family

Marko:

•Marko often pulls you as close as he can, loving it when you wrapped yourself around him like a spider monkey

•He is a very jealous mate, glaring at every male that so much as looked at you sideways and often getting into fights on the boardwalk with Surf Nazis as well as just normal tourists, once even punching a 12 year old boy in the nose for looking at your ass

•One thing that Marko loves is fucking outside, and he loves fucking you in the rain. It started as something you did to be out of the cave so his brothers couldn’t bother or tease you, and it was one of his favorite memories, pinning you to the tree, your clothes soaking through and heavy as he brushed your drenched hair out of your face and saw your cute little smile, pulling you into a passionate kiss and spending the next hour and a half playing with you in the storm as the waves crashed so loudly you could barely hear each other

•Marko shocked you a bit by not allowing his brothers to touch you at all for quite some time after you got together. He knew they wouldn’t hurt you but he was so possessive and protective of you that he didn’t like the idea of anyone but him touching a single inch of you

•It was on your 1 month anniversary that you moved into the cave and you lived there with him for several months before turning and joining the pack, Marko not being as pushy for you to turn and wanting you to experience all your human things before turning so you wouldn’t regret it

Paul:

•Paul had his hands on you 110% of the time, constantly needing skin on skin contact with you whenever possible

•He was the most touchy and attentive of the vampires, and while he’s always been flirty and a bit of a man-whore, that completely changed when he found his mate

•Paul loves finding new ways to pleasure you, and tease you as well, which is why he was always open to trying new things. His favorite thing that he has discovered with you is your fluffy tail plug which he got you matching ears for to be his little pet

•Paul doesn’t mind fucking you in front of his brothers. He actively tries to cover you as much as he can from their sight but for the most part he would rather put up with them being in the room rather than not touch you at all

•You found out quickly in the relationship that he had never gone down on a girl before when he admitted it to you, desperate to have you wrap your legs around his head but not wanting to hurt you. You thought he was sweet, and honestly his embarrassment was adorable. He had never had a real committed relationship before (only fucking girls before feeding on them and never having a relationship before being turned at 18 by David and Marko) and now that he did he wanted to give you everything and make you scream like a good boyfriend is supposed to (and not how he normally makes women scream)

•He ended up being extremely good with his mouth and eating his mate out became one of his all time favorite things to do to you, loving the way your legs shook around his head and you soaked his face

•Paul was a fantastic mate and after moving into the cave a few weeks into your relationship you offered to turn so that you could be with him forever and Paul was beyond happy about it as he had tried so hard not to pressure you into becoming a vampire for him but he knew as you drank his blood that night that you had the rest of eternity together

Lost Boys Masterlist

[writingdirectory]

Notes from a 5-day creative writing course:

Motivation

Make it a habit. That way, each time that familiar voice of self-doubt makes its appearance, it’ll be easier to ignore it, because writing will become something that you do-your thing-and you’ll gain confidence in it.

Visit your novel every single day. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to write something every day. You could outline the plot, or write character portraits, or draw a special part of your world. Your subconscious will work on your story even when you don’t. So, each time you visit the story consciously, you’ll find that things have developed in the story.

Manage the time of writing in a way that it is manageable for you. (It can be that one hour between classes or your lunch break or the morning before you go to work or at night before you sleep - Schedule it in a way that suits you and then, be serious about it.

Set a goal. For example, 100 or 500 words a day.

Character Development, Word Choice & Description

At first, characters incarnate ideas. A poor man who wins the lottery, a young boy who travels to a magical land. As we develop the story, they become people - real people with backgrounds and unique choices.

Ways we perceive character: through actions, thoughts (conflict), dialogue, interactions with others.

Bring intentionality to the representation of a character.  Don't give arbitrary information.

How a character reacts is a question of how you want to represent them through all those multiplicities that are dialogue, actions, interactions, etc.

Characters always want something. They are never static. With wants come obstacles and transformation.

Create tension between what a characters thinks, feels and says. For example, set external confidence and internal fear and then change that as the story develops. Characters can also be comfortable or scared depending on the situation.

Explore complexity. How a character talks to their lover is different from how they talk to their friends and family.

Give secondary characters a characteristic beyond their function to make them more prominent.

Make a hierarchy out of characters.

Exercise: Write the portrait of a character, how you would introduce them in the story and a description of them from a character that a) likes them and b) dislikes them.

Word Choice. When it starts sounding like writing, cut it out - Kill your darlings. Example: The car was spotted with rust - shows the car. As opposed to: The car was acned with rust - shows the writing. Sometimes a more refined word works against the object/image.

Description: Don’t just put in details. The details need to be significant for the image you want the reader to see.

Don’t use metaphors and lyricism in the expense of clarity. Be precise. Metaphors and similes should fit the narrative and not distract the reader. For example, saying “He barked like a dog” sounds fine, but if there are no dogs in your world, it is out of place and breaks the narrative. Be specific. Name things. Don’t be vague. Precision grounds your fiction.

Determine if you need static or lively description. Lively description is when you describe things through actions. Like “She passed her fingers through her blond hair”, instead of “Her hair was blond”.

Sense of authenticity. When you describe a place precisely, you gain your reader’s trust. A column is different from a golden column. That kind of attention gives a sense of authority and makes the narrative convincing.

Parts of description: smell, sound, sight, taste, touch, temperature, pressure.

Dialogue & POVs

Dialogue a) informs the character, b) moves the story forward, c) develops relationships between characters.

Dialogue isn’t just about how people talk.

What’s said can suggest what isn’t being said.

Use dialogue interspersed with description and visuals.

Choose the POV that suits your story.

(From David Lodge, ‘The Art of Fiction’.) A fictional story is unlikely to engage our interest unless we know whose story it is. Even with an “omniscient” narrative method, the writer should privilege one or two “points of view”. An objective approach may be a worthy aim in journalism, but not in fiction.

Pros and cons of 1st person POV. Pros: personal and direct, immediacy, intimacy, immediate credibility, easier to build character. Cons: limited, biased, unreliable, writing can become simplistic. When writing in 1st person, keep in mind that characters change, hence their perception changes. That has to be obvious in the narrative.

Pros and cons of 3rd person limited POV. Pros: thoughts can still be on the page, flexibility, wider view of the world, more complex language can be used (usually we think in simple words, so complex writing might sound pretentious and out of place in 1st person POV). Cons: distance (he/she).

GOD MODE. Or, commonly, 3rd person omniscient. You can jump in and out of characters’ minds, but there’s a danger when writing with such freedom. Be aware of structural harmony. Don’t write 10 pages in Sally’s POV and then jump into omniscient.

Use free indirect speech (1st person thoughts in italicized form, eg. No!) to eliminate the distance in 3rd person POVs.

Change POV with reason. Don’t suddenly jump to another POV just because it is interesting. Plan it. Make the change of the POV deliberate and make the reason clear.

Give equal weight to all POVs.  

Setting

The setting of a story is mediated through a character’s experience. It amplifies the theme. It shouldn’t be an arbitrary decision. The setting can make achievements more difficult for characters.

For children, places have magical properties, they are places of significance. The place of someone’s childhood can transform later in the novel, because the character has transformed. There’s a fluidity of meaning attached to places. But keep in mind that, places don’t change. Characters do.

How a character views a place is stated through the language we use.

When writing about a place that exists, have fidelity at the facts.

Editing

Be open to ideas changing.

If it’s not working after 3-4 rewrites, cut it out!

Make sentences active. Things don’t happen to characters. They do things.

Pay attention to rhythm.

Every sentence needs to have a reason to be there.

Usually, we overwrite in dialogue. Use context. Dialogue should be suggestive, rather than explicit.

Edit backwards, because perfectionism kicks in at the beginning.

Isolate. Edit single parts of the story. A chapter, a scene.

Read aloud. It will help find long sentences, pretentious words and unreadable language.

When words become over-familiar, put it down, give it to someone else to read.  

What to look out for: a) Character confusion. Make sure minor characters are introduced properly and find subtle ways to remind your readers who they are. b) Too much exposition. c) Plot holes, inconsistencies - there must rational reasons for coincidences, you must be able to provide logical and credible reasons behind the actions of a character. d) Over-written description.

What to do when editing: cut things out, put new things in, change sentence order and structure, look for repeated words, strengthen verbs (or prune), expand, trim, look for continuity errors, change order of events, introduce a delay in the reveals, rewrite using another POV or tense, determine if each sentence is pulling its weight.

Techniques: a) Prune. Delete text you don’t need. b) Isolate repetitions and delete or substitute with synonyms (look out for pretentious words). c) Cut and paste paragraphs to change order and rearrange. d) write a whole new draft, only looking to the previous one for factual material. e) Use a reader.

Bibliography

Hills Like White Elephants, by Ernest Hemingway (suggestive dialogue)

Concrete Island., by J.J. Ballot (how setting makes goals harder to achieve)

Driving Through Sawmill Towns, by Les Murray (lyricism, setting)

The Art of Fiction, by David Lodge (POV)

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

On Writing, by Stephen King

[luveline]

first of all, congratulations on 40k! ur so very talented and all of ur stories r so amazing!

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 + 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤

can i request fat!reader with hotch? maybe the reader is super anxious about meeting the rest of the team (maybe she’s already met rossi or spence or somebody) because shes worried that they’ll think she isn’t good enough for aaron so they push off them meeting for a while but then aaron gets shot (like in the shoulder or something, nothing major) and the doctors call her bc she’s on his emergency contact?

tysm babe!

There are people crowding Aaron's hospital bed. You can name them all from the photos you've seen alone; Morgan, muscled, his skin a deep sable; Reid, startlingly pale and with hair to his shoulders; and Rossi, or Dave, an older member of the team standing by the door. 

Knowing them by looks isn't going to make this easier. Maybe because you know that how you look is the very first thing any of them will notice. You aren't like Aaron's previous partners, but you're here, and you'd really like to see him. 

"Hello?" you ask, elbowing open the door.

Aaron looks up, sees it's you with a furrowed brow. "Did someone call you?" 

Which is honestly the worst thing he could say. You know you don't look like anything special, but when you get a call from the hospital that your boyfriend's been shot in the shoulder, you rush. "I'm your emergency contact?" you say, unsure. 

He frowns. "I didn't want them to call you and scare you. I'm fine."

"If there's ever a time for understating things, now isn't it," says Rossi, extending a hand to you. "David Rossi, nice to meet you."

You smile though acid twists in your stomach. "Hello." 

"Derek Morgan," Derek says, offering his swiftly after. 

"I'm Spencer, but I don't shake," Spencer says.

It's just as well. You don't have much patience left for shaking hands, easing past the men and their welcoming smiles to your grey boyfriend. You hesitate for a moment before giving in and touching his face. "I really would like to be called, you know, in the future." You kiss his cheek. "Even if it's scary." 

"Sorry you had to introduce yourself," he says under his breath. 

"Where's Emily?" you ask. You already know Emily, and she'd been so nice to you, you almost wish you'd met her outside of Aaron so that you could be friends. 

"Fighting a losing battle with the coffee machine," Rossi says. 

You straighten up and hold your hands behind your back. Then, self-conscious, you fold them in front of you. You know what you look like and don't usually worry when you're with the people who love you, but meeting new people brings old wounds to light. What are they thinking? you wonder. Do they think Aaron's settling? And that you're the wrong girl for him? 

"I can see why Hotch hasn't introduced us sooner," Derek says. Your heart plummets through your stomach, but he winks and smiles, continuing, "He'd have competition." 

(You can't know this, but they've all noticed your insecure shifting. Hotch wouldn't usually love such blatant flirtation between you and another man, but this instance gets a pass.)

"You can all go home now," Aaron says, reaching for you with the hand that isn't forcibly incapacitated. 

"Aw, boss," Emily says, elbowing open the door with a blonde behind her, "what fun would that be?" She sees you standing by the monitors and grins. "Hey! I wish we were seeing each other again under different circumstances, but it's so good to see you, oh my god!"

Aaron nudges you forward secretly, his fingers at the small of your back. You step forward without more instruction to give Emily a hug. Over her shoulder, the blonde girl smiles. It's an acute relief that she's not skinny, either. 

"Hey, mama, you get anything for me?" Derek asks her. 

"I did, but now this beauty is here, you'll have to wait! Hi, I'm Penelope." 

She's exceedingly eager to hug you as Emily had. 

(Hotch doesn't even care that his shoulder feels like someone poured hot casting iron in the wound, or that he'd really like for you to be hugging him right now rather than Garcia. It's nice to see something he knew was worrying you go smoothly. Nicer still to receive the smile you shoot back over your shoulder as JJ opens the door and his room becomes somehow more overcrowded. 

"She's just as cute as you said," Dave says with an approving nod. "You've still got it, Aaron. There's hope for all us old timers yet."

Hotch had called you cute, but you're a hell of a lot more than that. Definitely still got it, he thinks.) 

[bloodywickedvamp]

Two's Company - What The Hell Is Six? Part 3

Poly!Lost Boys x GN Reader x Michael

Series Masterlist

Summary: It's date night

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: swearing, touching, angst, arguments, flirting, lil kiss

I really cannot believe it took me so long to finish part 3 like...where did the time go?? It was almost an entire year...I just struggled to find the motivation but I finally did! Not sure if this is even good it's so late when I finished writing lol, hope you enjoy!

Dividers: @saradika & @firefly-graphics

“Okay…I’ll do it.”

“What?” Michael turns towards me and asks bewildered. I can’t blame him, I’m a little shocked by my own acquiescence. 

I tear my gaze from David to Michael and briefly at our fingers laced together before meeting his eyes. 

“I know this isn’t ideal Mikey, but you heard them, they won’t stop. We can talk about this more later, okay? Just trust me.” Squeezing his hand so tight, to help him to understand why I’m doing this. Why I didn’t have a choice other than to accept their ‘offer’. To protect him from whatever they’re truly capable of. If I said no, they’d take it out on Michael, I know they would. 

He takes a moment to respond. Taking me in from top to bottom and squeezing back a non-verbal response before speaking. With more understanding than I initially thought he’d be capable of granting, he nods, brings our hands up to his lips to ghost them over my knuckles and finally lets out a soft 'okay' with a gentle smile only meant for me. I mirror the sweetness in his face back, until the moment is interrupted. 

“Well that’s just adorable.” David snorted, all too eager to have our attention not on each other. 

“But if you’re finished I’d like to get back to the date you just agreed to.” He directed impatiently. 

“Fine, but there are some ground rules we need to establish first.” I said.

“Oh?” questioned David. He seemed amused by my answer, curiosity slipping through at what I could possibly come up with. 

“First, no kissing or inappropriate touching-”

Paul cut me off to complain, “damn babe, those are all my go-to moves.”

Dwayne swiftly takes it upon himself to reprimand the wild blonde with an elbow to the side and a ‘shut up Paul’. While said blonde untangles his arm from the taller man's shoulders to soothe his aching side with a look of exasperation, like he’d been completely put out by the interaction. 

“Ow, I was only kinda kidding. You can’t hit me like that man, you know I'm sensitive.” He croaked out in a very childlike manner accompanied by a pouty bottom lip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually got into the fetal position next with how dramatic of a person he seemed to be. In a different circumstance I would’ve found the exchange funny and how close the two are adorable. 

Instead of dwelling, I decided to continue. “Second, we won’t be going anywhere private, we’ll be in public the whole time. Third, no threatening or hurting Michael for any reason. No matter what happens on our ‘date’ you don’t get to do anything to him.” Emphasizing date with a quick eye roll. I may have agreed to this but I don’t have to be happy about it. 

Michael let out a small chuckle from my right before he leaned down to whisper in my ear “My hero.” I try my best to hold back the smile threatening to sneak its way past my serious demeanor but it’s useless and I crack. I can never seem to hold myself back when it comes to Michael, he pulls every part of me to the forefront, good or bad, he always embraces it with open arms and a warm smile. 

“Is that all or do you have any more demands princex?” Marko piped in, once again directing our attention towards the boys in front of us. 

“That’s all for now, but if I think of any more I’ll be sure to let you know promptly.” I finish with faux nicety and the sweetest smile I can muster. 

Pulling a sarcastic laugh from him followed by an even more sarcastic “Can’t wait.” 

It seems Marko and I will be having the most lively time together on our date, if we don’t kill each other first. 

This time, I hear a genuine laugh come from the same curly headed boy. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I’m baffled at the comment. His joyous response sounded like it was directed at my previous thought, one I definitely thought to myself and didn’t voice aloud. 

“Wait, I didn’t say anything. How-”

Paul decides to answer me first. “We've got all kinds of tricks we can show you baby”, with an additional cheeky grin thrown my way. 

While David finishes with a “but we’ll save that for next time. We’ll meet back here tomorrow night where we usually park the bikes, right after sunset. Don’t be late.” He looks between Michael and I as the quartet begin to make their leave. Each boy giving their own version of a goodbye with waves and ‘catch ya laters’ till they’ve vanished from underneath the boardwalk back towards the stairs. 

“So…we should probably get home and maybe figure out what the hell you just agreed to.” Michael announces after a bout of silence following the departure. 

After Michael drives us back home, he seems to be in a better mood than I expected. He’s acting like his old self again, not letting go of my hand or some part of my body since we arrived. The truth coming out makes him much more at ease, which I can appreciate. The rest of the family noticed his sudden presence at the dinner table with stunned expressions, Sam even commenting ‘what were you dying for moms lasagna or something bud?’ as Lucy shoo’s that off with a wave of her hand and says she’s happy to see everyone together again for dinner with a beaming smile along her face, quickly changing the topic to grandpa’s aversion to giving him an overdue haircut.

Later on, Michael and I found ourselves in the bedroom we share. After a lengthy discussion of the night to come and having to only calm him down a couple of times from leaving to find the boys again and telling them to fuck off, we agree on sticking it out just for tomorrow. After the dates I tell them it won’t work and we can put this mess behind us, hopefully. The matter of Michael being a bloodthirsty creature of the night has yet to be discussed. 

“I still don’t like this plan, just so we’re clear.” He proceeds to tell me one final time as we start to lay down to sleep with a few hours of darkness left cloaking the sky before dawn breaks. 

“We don’t have any other options…unless one of your new special tricks includes time travel to before you met them.” I jokingly tack on as I cuddle further into his side. 

He releases a light chuckle while rubbing my back soothingly. “Sadly no, that’s not in my abilities.” 

“It’ll be okay.” I say, not certain if it’s more for his sake or my own. He silently agrees with a kiss to my forehead and a soft goodnight as we both fall asleep in the comfort of this small window of time we have together. 

Michael and I silently wake up just hours before we would need to leave, having mostly slept the day away together. As dusk quickly approaches, getting ready seemed an easier task than I initially anticipated. He showers after me and dresses in his usual attire of blue jeans, t-shirt, sneakers, and his newly acquired leather jacket that I can’t help but start to like the more I see him in it. While I put on a nice tank top, black jean shorts, and sneakers, dressing fairly casual but also something I would wear on a date with Michael. My outfit showed a bit more skin due to the heat. 

He gives me a once over before asking ‘Is that new?’ as he points to my top. I nod with a look of ‘yeah why?’ and he only shakes his head back before answering, “nothing, you just look nice…and not to sound like a jealous boyfriend but…I can’t say i’m happy seeing you wear something new for them.” 

“Hey I can chan-”

“No.” He stops me before I begin. “Like I said you look good and I’ll just have to get over the fact that they’re getting to be with you tonight and not me, when all I want to do now is rip your outfit to shreds and toss you back in that bed till morning.” He says, as he grabs my hips pulling me into a heated kiss. Only allowing himself to pull back as I’m gasping for air. 

“Very tempting offer.” I breathlessly snicker while running my hands through his thick head of curls. He pulls me back in for one more peck and reluctantly drags me along to the front door so we can head out.

We arrive at the boardwalk and Michael parks his bike exactly where David said they’d be, watching the crowd go by and laughing amongst themselves till we’ve made our way into the group beside them as they take notice. Michael helps me off his bike as we stand in front of them, hands still intertwined. 

David looks at us like it’s cute we’re still trying to hold up some type of front to the situation, and I guess in a way he’s right, they have the upper hand. 

Surprisingly Marko is the first to speak, “And here I thought you were dreading going out with us, but by the looks of that outfit I’d say you were trying to put on a show, feel free to show off even more skin if you’d like.” It takes everything in my body to stay calm because I know that comment is only meant to get a rise out of me. I won’t give him the satisfaction. 

After I take a soothing breath I reply, “It’s hot outside and I’d rather not keel over from overheating, that’s all.” 

He leans closer with a smirk and gives a half-hearted “whatever you say sweetheart”, before leaning back and giggling like school girls about it with Paul. I simply roll my eyes and turn my attention back to David. 

“Let’s go.” He announces to the group as we all start to follow his lead. Dwayne walks in stride with Michael and I, sandwiching me between them, with Marko and Paul tailing behind us. I decide to chance it and look at Dwayne as he leans down towards me, not breaking eye contact for even a moment as we continue to walk. “Don’t let him get to you, he just likes to ruffle feathers. But for what it’s worth, you look lovely.” His lips lift into a half smile, half smirk once he notices the heat rising to my cheeks at the complement. I attempt to brush it off with a quick ‘thanks’ and steal a glance at Michaels now taut jaw and lingering gaze on us. I turn my attention forward as Dwayne’s hand coyly slides up my waist and is gone again before I even have time to register it as he picks up his pace to step in time with David. Michael lets out a scoff and pulls me closer to his side by our joined hands. 

David walked us to a section of restaurants with outdoor seating we could all gather at, choosing a wooden picnic bench for us. Michael and I are sitting on one bench with the two natural blondes and brunette sitting on the other, while David decides to grab a lone chair from a different table and pull it up on the side so he’s seated at the ‘head’ of the table. 

“So how is this going to work exactly? Are we all doing this together or…?” I decide to voice my curiosity before the conversation inevitably gets side tracked or leads to another argument.  

All eyes turn to David as he fills me in. “We’ll each take you out individually - Dwayne’s first.” Nodding his head in the direction of his friend. My own gaze found its way back to his dark brown eyes, that same smile from earlier plastered on. In that moment a wave of familiarity washed over me, like I’ve gotten lost in those eyes a million times before and would continue to do so for as long as I’d be allowed to stare into them. Like how it feels to look into Michaels. 

Michael.

Remembering he’s sitting right next to me I shake the previous thoughts away and proceed to stand to meet Dwayne on the other side so we can get this night started already. 

But I freeze in my tracks as it suddenly occurs to me that Michael will be all alone with the other boys for the rest of the evening, and the thought of him being tormented and teased about this situation he has no control over sends a pang of guilt through me. I decide I have to try and ease some of the tension, if I can. 

“Wait- before we go I have another condition to add.” 

David leans back in his chair with a raised brow, gloved fingers tapping along the table. “Yes?” 

“If this is going to work you can’t be at each other's throats the whole time I'm gone. Michael told me that he barely knows anything about any of you and vice versa, so while I'm on each date the rest of you are going to stay here and get to know each other - like real friends.” 

“What?” 

“I’m serious, you’re not going to sit here all night and fuck with my boyfriend behind my back, I’m not asking.” I try to muster up as much confidence in my words as I'm sure David actually has naturally coursing through him. He only ponders what I've said momentarily before giving a strained smile that doesn’t exactly meet his eyes and mutters out a quick ‘sure’. Looking towards the others that slowly nod along in agreement - even if their faces say otherwise. 

Now feeling better about leaving, I let Dwayne lead the way out of the seating area towards the  crowds of people scattered along the boardwalk for whatever he had planned.

Michael turns back to the remaining boys seated with him after staring daggers into Dwayne's back before the two completely disappear from sight. He speaks up before the others can, to get the ball rolling. “Okay so…where should we start?” He sends them each a questioning glance. 

David stares back with the most incredulous look he can muster, like he couldn’t believe he was actually going through with the ‘getting to know each other idea’. After a minute a mocking smile takes over his face. 

“Yeah…” He draws out. “We’re not doing that.” He says with little room for push back. 

Michael crosses his arms over his chest and nods his head in a similar mocking manner, amused by the reply. “You’ve got a lot to learn, they’ll come back and expect a full report on what we talked about, want specifics to make sure you followed through on your promise.” 

“We’ll make something up.” David again says matter of factly. 

Michael scoffs. “They’ll be able to tell if i’m lying, how do you think I ended up in this situation in the first place? I wasn’t able to keep what you did to me a secret.” The other boys may not want to participate in this but he’d be damned if he got into trouble for not at least trying to play nice. 

“Alright, fine. I particularly enjoyed watching you get your ass chewed out in front of half the boardwalk last night. It was the highlight of my week.” David faux relents, like he’s shared intimate knowledge of himself only few know and pretends as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders with a content sigh. Stifled giggles from the terror twins echo in the background. 

“You know what, the only one you’re hurting is yourself. Keep it up and they’ll want nothing to do with you. Which will be the highlight of my life.” 

Silence followed Michaels statement as the two were now sat in a heated staring match. The tension in the air rapidly increased as neither one backed down. If looks could kill they’d both be six feet under. Even the blondes, who hadn’t said a word since the conversation began, were forced into an awkward stillness watching the interaction unfold, waiting for the underlying hostility to bubble over. 

Paul decides someone has to try and mediate before this gets any uglier and, more importantly, his turn for a date is possibly soured by the oldest and newest member of their pack coming to blows. In his opinion the best way to deal with this would be to let them fight it out, but he knows the night can’t end with them covered in blood, scratches, and bite marks - unless they’re fucking. 

All eyes are suddenly shifted to Paul as he clears his throat obnoxiously. “Uhhh…my favorite band is Mötley Crüe.” He says with a bright smile, proud that it actually worked since the boys' body languages were all seeming to relax. 

Marko, good naturedly, pats Paul on the back as an ‘attaboy’ for the attempt. 

As Dwayne and I continue walking through the boardwalk I feel one of his hands graze my lower back and rest there. I quickly snatch his wrist and pull it in front of me.

“I said no touching.” I admonish. Before I can drop it, he seizes the opportunity to grab my hand instead. 

“I was only trying to guide you, but you’re right this way is better so we don’t get separated.” 

“Right…” I probably should have put up more of a fight, but the crowd is double the size of last night's and we could easily lose each other. Not that I really believe his reason for wanting to hold my hand is so noble. I let it slide anyways.

We make small talk about movies and music as we venture through different stalls. Anytime he asks me a question I have to mentally prepare myself before answering. His intense gaze makes me apprehensive, it's like he’s enraptured by every word and I’m nervous if what I'm saying is even adequate. He hasn’t been judgemental yet, so I let his deep baritone put me at ease when he responds to something I’ve said. 

He pulls us to a stop in front of an ice cream shop claiming it's the best in town and we should get some. After ordering and him paying for both of ours, we head towards the other side to lean against the railing while we eat. He watches as I dig out a spoonful of the sweet treat to taste. My eyes go wide from the first bite. He wasn’t kidding about how good it is and he seemed proud of himself once I told him exactly that. 

After a few mouthfuls of his own, he silently gestures towards his cup asking if I’d like to try the flavor he had and I nod in agreement. He dips his spoon in and holds it to my mouth for me to try. I squint at it before making eye contact with him and before I can even get a word out he’s anticipated why I won't try it. 

“You’re not cheating on Michael by tasting my ice cream.”

“No, but I’m not trying to swap spit by sharing a spoon.” I decline, while gently pushing his arm towards his own face to eat it and he does so with a chuckle. 

He relents and allows me to try it with my own spoon. I, in turn, make him the same offer with my cup of ice cream. 

Instead, he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of my mouth before bringing it back to his own and sucking on the digit. 

“Pretty good.” He says casually.

I’m in shock as my whole body is set aflame from the intimate moment. He grants me a small mercy by not acknowledging how much it affected me. I proceed to eat the rest in silence knowing if I look him in the eye or, god forbid, try and have a conversation after that I’d be a stuttering mess. 

He takes the lead once more by throwing out our trash and grabbing my hand to help me off the railing. 

“Let’s check out a few pop up booths, there might be something there you like.” He says as he walks us in that direction. 

“Like clothes and stuff?” I ask. I haven’t really explored the boardwalk before so I don’t know much about what they have or the best places to shop. 

“Yeah, that’s usually where we pick something up if we need new clothes, that’s where Marko gets all his patches because they’re…cheap.”

“Do you even own a shirt?” I jest. “Because I’ve only ever seen you in just that jacket.”

He looks back at me with amusement in his eyes. 

“I do, but the clean up from a night out is much easier without one.” 

I give him a weary look and he tenses slightly like he said something he probably shouldn’t have. 

“Do I want to know what that means?” 

He shakes his head at me, “no, probably not.” 

“Let’s just keep the conversation light for now.” I suggest, hoping not to dive into anything too heavy. I’ve enjoyed the mostly chill atmosphere so far and hope it can stay that way. 

“Deal”, he says as he gives me a genuine smile as we continue on our way.

🖤 Taglist 🖤

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[chubbyreaderchan]

Fight | Poly!Lost boys x GN!reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, reader gets touched by a rando, fighting, first time writing a fic for the Lost Boys.

Summary: An outsider thinks the reader is selling themselves to the Boys and thinks it’s okay to harass her, right in front of them!

--

Music blared through the boardwalk; the boys surrounded you, their human mate enjoying the show. Paul was dancing and laughing with Mark, David was smoking leaning against a railing eyeing the crowd for their dinner, and you were leaning against the chest of Dwayne. His hands rested on your hips as you moved to the music.  

You couldn’t help but laugh watching your boys just be that your boys. Paul swaggered up to you, a big goofy grin on his face, and pressed a tongue and teeth-filled kiss against your lips. You laughed again as he pulled away mouthing the words to the song being sung before practically tackling Marko. The cute cherub was one wrong move from a fight constantly, and Paul almost got decked, almost. Only stopped because Marko realized who it was. You couldn’t help but shake your head at the antics of your boyfriends.

You pat at your jacket pockets and count to see how much cash you had before deciding to break off to get overly expensive concert water.

“I’m gonna be back,” you pulled slightly from Dwayne, who gently held your wrist as you pulled back.

“What’s up, sweetheart,” he asked.

“Just thirsty, I’ll be back,” You gave him a quick peck on his lips weaving a bit.

You gently lay a hand on David’s shoulder; his crystal blue eyes stare up at you his hand touching yours.

“Water,” you respond to his look. “I’ll be fine you keep thinking about dinner, okay?”

David didn’t say anything, just gave you a mildly annoyed look before scoping the crowd letting your hand slip through his.

It was a surprisingly short line, most likely due to the booth running out of alcohol and everyone moving on to a different one. Yet it seemed to take a lot longer for the attendant to get your water, you didn’t mind waiting. It was nice to step away from the crowd a bit, and take a breath of… not exactly fresh air but air not suffocating from the stench of body odor and general wet-butt-concert smell.  

It was a wonder your boys could stand the stench.

You leaned against the counter of the booth, back turned slightly from the crowd, tapping on the wood to the drum beat as best as you were able. Two cold and thin hands ran over your ass, a smile on your face assuming it was Paul or Marko only to turn and be shocked to see… some guy.

Great. “How much do they pay you,”

“What?”

“To have all of them all over you, they gotta pay good to gang bang you, eh?” He grabbed at your face, but you pushed him off.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” David’s voice was loud.

Relief of not needing to fight some asshole washed over you.

“C’mere kitten,” He called you, and you morphed into the group of biker punks.

Marko looked like a ticking time bomb about to explode on the guy. He thought he was being slick. Smooth. Trying to get on their mate.

That wouldn’t happen.

Ever.

“Oh, you who I talk to about how much a fuck with them is?” he said right to David’s face.

The platinum blonde sneered, tossing his cigarette to the ground. But Marko was quicker. His fists flew hard, potentially breaking the bone of the man.

They were crowding around ready to tear him apart, Dwayne the only one holding back to keep you from getting involved.

They only stopped when security arrived, throwing the whole fighting group out of the venue.

“You guys don’t have to do that,” you tell them, walking back to their bikes.

You mount Marko’s feeling like you need to hold onto him the most. He joins you on his bike, allowing you to wrap your arms around his middle.

“Doll, we won't let you be disrespected like that,” David said, lifting your chin with his gloved finger to face him.

His touch elicited a happier feeling than that of the groping bastard. A smile cracks on your lips, and David presses a quick kiss to them.

“At least we have dinner now,” Paul said, pinching your cheek playfully before mounting his bike.

You lean against Marko, cheek against his patterned jacket. “Thanks for defending my honor, Marko,”

“Of course, dove. What kind of mate would I be if I let someone treat you like that,”

With that, they kicked off their bikes and recklessly took you back to the cave.