#I’m thinking about them again of course

[sourkiki]

THROUGH YOUR EYES

CONTENT: explicit mature content, established relationship, dom! 박성훈 x fem! reader ｡◕‿◕｡ non-idol au, sunghoon wears glasses here (important, trust) ✉ unprotected sex (wrap it up), fingering, pussy eating ★ aftercare, usage of pet names ⌗ 1423...!? catalogue.

HYE: this is a repost from my old account with some minor edits done but yeah. does sunghoon knows whenever he wears glasses, an angel spreads her wings? its me. im the angel. im posting this way out of my normally posting time so if this flops, you won't hear from me again...

Ever since you stumbled upon your boyfriend wearing a pair of thinly-framed glasses, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Three weeks had passed and it was still imprinted in your head. You groaned, running a hand through your hair in a poor attempt of calming yourself but it was futile. The words reflected on the blinding screen of your laptop don't make sense anymore, not when you’ve been on the same page for the past hour.

“Darling, you need to take a break.” 

You looked up to see Sunghoon leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed comfortably; a white long-sleeved shirt with a pair of black sweatpants. And of course, he was wearing the stupid glasses that perfectly rested on the bridge of his nose. The sight of the accessory was enough to make you gulped. He chuckled at your silence and how you were shamelessly ogling him. He steps closer, stopping until he is before you. 

“What’s in your mind, pretty girl?” He asks, reaching out to gently cup your face with his hands. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the contact and you couldn’t help but leaned into his touch, shoulders sagging slightly. 

“Nothing, I’m just stressed,” you replied, savoring the way Sunghoon caressed your face with his thumbs. 

“Poor thing, do you want me to help?” He asks. 

You shook your head. “No, I can manage—” 

“Oh, I’m not talking about your work,” he interrupts, mischief seeping into his voice. You gulped when you recognized the familiar glint in his eyes and that was the only warning you got. 

Your lips were captured in a fiery kiss and you gasped, feeling yourself being pushed back until your back was uncomfortably digging into the edge of the table. Sunghoon had to lean down to kiss you, making him strain his back but he didn’t care. Nothing is important when it comes to pleasuring you. Without breaking the kiss, Sunghoon carried you in his arms, moving you to the bed where he gently laid you down on the mattress. The feeling of being in your boyfriend’s arms made you feel safe and protected; a feeling you had came to cherish. 

You made a noise of protest when he pulled away. You raised your head, desperate for his lips but Sunghoon moved, leaning his head back. 

“Hoonie, why?” You whined. 

He coos, leaning in to press a kiss on your forehead. “Sorry sweetheart, but just sit back and let me do the work, alright?” 

Huffing, you obeyed and moved to lay in a comfortable position. You watched with bated breath as Sunghoon shifted down, spreading your legs apart. He easily pulled down the pair of shorts you were wearing, tossing them to the floor, leaving you in your panties. Your ears turned red when you realized you were soaked. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, who arched an eyebrow. 

“Did you get turned on just from kissing? Or is it something else?” He grins knowingly, fingers tracing the hem of your panties before he slid it down your legs, leaving you completely bare underneath him. No matter how many times you’ve done this, he couldn’t get enough of how stunning you looked. 

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” you replied, your face turning as red as a tomato with how he maintained eye contact, with the glasses still on as he teasingly ran his fingers along your clit, collecting your essence. 

“Really? But I’ve a feeling you know perfectly well what I’m talking about,” he hums, wasting no time in pushing two fingers in, groaning at the delirious feeling of your tight, warm walls instantly clenching down on the sudden intrusion. 

“Sunghoon—” You moaned, one hand gripping onto the sheets while the other gripped onto the pillow for dear life. You attempted to rock your hips against his fingers but he held you down, restricting you from moving. 

“P-Please, don’t tease,” you whimpered, looking at your boyfriend with half-lidded eyes. 

Being the tease he is, Sunghoon smirks. It’s unfair with how attractive he looked at that moment. “Please what, baby?” 

“Please touch me,” you pleaded, and the smirk stretched wider. 

“But I am touching you. You need to be more specific,” he replied, moving his fingers in a scissor-like motion as he slowly opened you, preparing you for what’s to come. Sunghoon wasted no time in finding your weak spot and he ruthlessly abused it, reducing you to a moaning and squirming mess. 

“N-No, want your mouth on me—fuck!” You gasped, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when Sunghoon leaned down, running his tongue along your folds, followed by kitten licks. You let out a high-pitched moan at the double penetration; fingers and tongue. It was too much for you to handle and you could feel the familiar tightening of your stomach, a sign you were about to reach your climax, and then—

“What the fuck?” You raised your head, shooting your boyfriend the meanest glare you could muster. 

Sunghoon laughs, amused with your reaction. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck you and you won’t be looking at me like that anymore.” 

He wasted no time in shredding his clothes, shifting to his knees as he still remained in between your legs. You tightened your grip on the pillow, biting down on your bottom lip at the familiar feeling of him pushing himself into you. You whined, getting drunk on the feeling of being split apart despite how you’ve had sex multiple times. When he was completely in, Sunghoon started at a languid pace, although he quickly changed his mind when he heard the melodic sounds dripping from your lips. 

Blood rushed to your face as the bed rocked along with your movement. The room was filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin. You’re sure your neighbours will file a noise complaint tomorrow but that was the least of your concerns now. You arch your back off the bed when Sunghoon’s lips latched onto your neck, leaving butterfly kisses and hickeys behind. 

“Fuck, how are you always so tight?” He groans, lips grazing against your neck as he feels the way your walls spasm and contract at every rock of his hips. You whined at the cold frames of his glasses touching your warm, sweaty skin.

“Hoonie, please, please,” you begged. 

“What does my pretty girl want?” He asks, moving his head away so he could admire your face. 

“G-Gonna cum, please,” you sobbed, hoping he would show some mercy. 

“Is that so? Can you keep your eyes on me when you cum, sweetheart?” He asks, and you eagerly nodded; wanting to please your boyfriend. 

It took your remaining strength to keep your eyes open. You pulled him down to kiss him, your tongues meeting in a passionate dance that only lovers would know. You panted against his lips as you reached your climax and Sunghoon was quick to follow suit. Both of you groaned at the feeling of him releasing in you. You laid in a pool of your sweat and other body fluids while your boyfriend slowly pulled out of you, eliciting a hiss at the sudden empty feeling. 

He got off the bed, heading to the bathroom to grab some clean towels to wipe you and him off. You were pliant, too exhausted to move an inch as Sunghoon cleaned you off. When he was done, he threw the now dirtied towels into the laundry basket with great accuracy. He grabbed a new set of clothes—his clothes, to be exact and assisted you in putting them on. Sunghoon had to move you away from the bed to get rid of the sheets, much to your annoyance but you knew he was doing this so he wouldn’t get scolded by you tomorrow morning. 

Once he was done replacing the sheets and pulled on a pair of sweatpants, both of you were finally able to cuddle together. You rested your head on his chest while Sunghoon drew circles on your arms. 

“By the way, I know you find it attractive whenever I wear glasses,” he commented. 

Your closed eyes snapped open as you turned to him at lightning speed. “What?” 

Sunghoon laughs, poking your nose. “What? Did you think I wouldn’t notice how often you kept staring at me? You’re not being subtle, especially with the way you stare at me.” 

“And how do I stare at you?” 

He grins, pulling you closer so he could kiss your lips. “Like you want me to fuck you.” 

“Sunghoon!”

taglist: @chuhees, @byshens, @hoonstqr, @doucious, @emisluvr, @riqomi, @onlyywwon, @jjung-v, @minjunis, @rikisoup

[luvyeni]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── meeting your fav in person or haechan meeting you in person

( 対 ) lee haechan + fem. reader wc. 0.6k genre smut· contains! idol!haechan , unprotected sex , language mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ based on this video they sent

haechan wasn’t surprised by how hot his fans are; he’s seen his fair share of pretty fans in the almost decade he’s been a idol — however he’s never been gobsmacked by how beautiful a fan was until he saw you.

he only caught a glimpse of you during the show and it was like time stopped , how could someone so beautiful like him? you smiled and his heart fluttered. he had to go around asking if any of the other boys saw you , when they didn’t , he swore he was seeing things.

it was until send off he saw you again , you stood there along with many other fans , a photocard of him right on your hips , a mini skirt sitting right on your thighs , a deep cut shirt that exposed your chest , a H in pink rhinestones right on your collarbone; he was enamored by your look , even after being in the heat , you still looked good — he had to talk to you.

he made his way over to you , touching the hands of the other fans in his way , stopping right in front of you. “hi.” you stared up at him in shock. “oh my- hi!” he smiled , holding his hand out , your friends squealing beside you. “for me?” he pointed at the letter on your collarbone. “yes! yes it is.” you said , excited to meet the boy you never shut up about , the man looked just as excited to meet you. “am i your favorite?”

“of course i love you.” the staff came over to usher him on to the next ; he really didn’t want to go. “bye.” he gave you one more glance , finally letting your hand go , leaving you squealing with your friends. “girl he was checking you out.” he smirked because he was . “no he wasn’t , he was just doing his job.” no , no he wasn’t , if anything he was thinking about taking you back to his hotel and fucking you until those damn rhinestones fell off — not before he got a picture though.

and that’s exactly what he did , it wasn’t easy but he managed to slip his phone number into your hand after he returned back to take a picture with a girl standing next to you. you weren’t even gonna text him , but after you returned back to your hotel you just said fuck it and sent him a text — which led you to this very moment , you in the hotel room of the man you’ve said some crazy things about , his cock stuffed deep inside you. your hair was a mess , the letter H now just a few pink rhinestones. “fu-fuck you’re so tight.”

“so fucking wet , you got this wet for me.” he grabbed your face , you were looking him in the eyes . “fu-fuck baby i’m flattered.” he smirked down at you. “haechan.” you moaned. “that’s it -shshit- say my fucking name.” he grunted above you. “say it.”

“haechan , please fuck me!” you screamed his thick cock dragging along your walls , your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he plowed into you. “so fu-fucked out by my cock.” he cursed. “bet you thought about this , me bringing you back and fucking you stupid?” you nodded. “fuck haechan you’re so big.” pressing his thumb against your clit , rubbing circles , making you squeal , you were sure the entire floor heard you. “you gonna cum for me? make a mess all over my bed?”

“fuck i’m gonna cum!” you screamed , legs shaking as you came. “haechan!” he kept moving. “good girl , making a mess all over me -shit- fuck i’m gonna cum.” he choked out. “fuck.” he hissed pulling out , right before he came , his sticky cum coating your skin. grabbing both your wrist , pinning them to the bed , sliding back in. “i’m not done with you.”

“gonna give you everything you dreamed of.”

©️LUVYENI

[traveler-at-heart]

A redhead a day (makes the doctor act gay)

Request by @natromilf - Surgeon!R, who is known for her precision, but acts all clumsy around Natasha.

Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Everyone makes mistakes.

Though some people can’t afford them. Like  you, and your line of work. One wrong move can lead to a deadly result.

It almost mirrors the life of the agents you operate on. Bad intel, a wrong turn, an ambush and the whole world can go to shit.

Which is why you take your job so seriously.

If their mission goes wrong, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

That’s what you trained your whole life for and you were proud to serve SHIELD and the Avengers

Too bad med school didn’t teach you how to keep from acting like a fool when a pair of beautiful green eyes set on you.

The first time you see Natasha, you barely have time to process it was her. The Black Widow, who seems to be visiting someone, instead of looking for medical attention.

Still, you are intrigued by her presence (it was known she’d rather deal with any injuries alone). So much so, that you keep looking at her until you crash against the elevator doors.

“Shit” you mutter, your face burning up with embarrassment.

One of the interns rushes to your side, but her movements only draw further attention to you, and you sigh.

“All good, Elena” you say, hoping the next elevator comes soon.

Still, when you finally get inside and press the button to the second floor, your eyes meet Natasha’s once again.

When she winks at you while sporting a teasing smile, you wonder if she can read your very flustered thoughts.

—

That first impression was bad. You were hoping that if you ever saw Agent Romanoff again, that could be corrected.

Unfortunately for you, that is not the case.

It’s another day, between urgent calls and an extraction mission gone wrong. Three injured SHIELD agents under your care are enough to make the first twelve hours of your shift fly.

By the time you have a minute to sit down and rest, it’s close to midnight, your eyes heavy with exhaustion and missed sleep. But you still have to review charts and follow up with post ops, so going to the cafeteria will have to do.

“What a fucking night” your friend Daphne says, standing next to you as you pour some coffee in a disposable cup. This and the vending machines are your only choices in the middle of the night.

“Tell me about it” you sigh, adding sugar. That won’t make the dark beverage any better, but you gotta try. As you look up, you see Captain America walking down the hallway, face full of soot and suit torn in some places.

Right behind him, Natasha walks with purpose, frowning and reviewing a file. She looks busy enough, so you think you’re free to admire her without the woman noticing. But of course, she’s a trained spy. As soon as she feels someone staring, she turns to look at you.

“Damn, the Avengers are here, this must have been real bad” Daphne says next to you. You don’t listen.

Not when those green eyes are fixed on you, frown softening and the corner of those full, enticing lips turning into a playful smirk.

“Oh, careful. The coffee is super hot…”

It’s obvious you miss that part too, taking a large gulp to hide your blush.

“Fuck” you spit it out. “Oh, God, I have third degree burns, Daphne, help” you say like an idiot, tongue hanging out.

“I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL” she barks, making some people stare.

Gosh, you just know Natasha was looking and must think you are a total idiot. Or maybe not, because when you finally recover from the burning sensation, she’s not standing next to Captain America.

Oh, maybe she didn’t see me.

“Hi, there”

You’ve never heard her voice before. And yet, you know it’s her.

You slowly turn to look at Natasha. She’s even more perfect than you imagined.

“Hot” you blurt out.

“Pardon?” she says, her voice dropping an octave.

“Coffe is hot. Uh, just keeping anyone from burning” you mumble, blushing madly.

“Oh, I’m not here for the coffee. I was told you were in charge of the injured agents. Could I get an update on them?”

“Right, of course. Come with me”

You walk next to Natasha, hiding your hands in the pockets of your labcoat.

“Agent Lusaque needed a liver resection. He’ll recover with no issues. Agents Palmer and Bryant, on the other hand…” you sigh, pulling out their charts from the nurse’s station. “Palmer is in the ICU, and Bryant will need a second surgery for that broken leg. But we need her BP to stabilize”

“Did you see anything significant in their injuries? Anything that stood out?”

“I’d say they are consistent with an IED, Agent”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. Old man wanted to wait for intelligence but sometimes you just know” Natasha sighs. You resist the urge to reach out and squeeze her shoulder. Her expression shifts to something neutral, and you know the moment of vulnerability is gone. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your hot coffee”

“Of course. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know”

“Will do. Bye, Doctor Y/L/N”

And with that, she’s gone.

—

For once, it’s a slow day. You discharged the agents that were involved in last week’s mission and are about to take a break, when you hear some cursing in one of the examination rooms.

“Everything ok?”

You’re expecting to see an intern struggling with an IV, but instead you’re greeted with the sight of Natasha trying to stitch herself. She looks from the gash in her leg to you, smiling.

“Yeah, all good”

“No! You’re not even wearing gloves!” you protest, looking horrified at how badly she’s doing. Before she can open her mouth to answer, you push her down the hospital bed, glaring. “Do not move”

“It’s just a small cut. And I don’t need anesthesia”

“Hush, Romanoff. Or I will place you on medical leave” you say, glaring at her.

You expect Natasha to apologize or at the very least look ashamed. But instead, she’s still smiling.

This is a nice change for her. She’s only seen you flustered, being a complete mess when she’s around. Now, though, your movements are calculated as you prepare the sutures and glove up.

“How did you do this?” you ask, your tone even. This must be routine for you.

“That’s classified” Natasha jokes with a little smile. You clear your throat, adjusting the light to focus on the gash.

“Doesn’t stop other agents from telling me”

“Who?” Natasha says, and you can’t help but laugh at her tone. She seems ready to kick their asses for sharing classified information.

“I’m kidding. They tell me family stuff, small things, really. It’s to keep them talking, if only to distract them from the pain. Sometimes I get good gossip, too”

Natasha watches you work in silence for a few moments. Even if she tries to act though, the needle piercing her skin always sends a shiver down her spine.

“I have a cat” she blurts out. For the first time since you started working, you look up. It’s Natasha’s turn to feel like a blubbering mess, admiring your beautiful eyes.

“That sounds nice”

“Do you like cats?” she winces at how lame she sounds, but you mistake it with pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m almost done. Yes. My father is a veterinarian and we had a family farm, so there were all types of animals around” in spite of yourself, you smile.

Now, you live in an all white world of sterile hallways and OR lights. But your days were once spent in the middle of feeding chickens, walking around the muddy fields and checking horses and cows.

“So, why not be a veterinarian?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I remember this one time where a worker fell and hurt his head. It took a while for help to get to us and my father left me alone with him while they found a doctor. But I wasn’t scared. I knew I could keep my cool around blood, unlike my sisters”

“That’s definitely helpful”

“Yeah, except when my Dad figured out I was the only one who’d be able to help so I’d work during school break” you laugh, remembering everything with a new light. You used to hate it back then, because it was early mornings and lots of work. But now it’s a fond memory.

“The rumors are true. Your work is impeccable” Natasha comments when you remove your gloves. “Where were you when that bullet went through my side?”

“That’s classified” you say, and feel a small surge of pride when she actually laughs. You stand up and look around for antibiotics.

“Is that really necessary?” Natasha grumbles, and you roll your eyes.

“An infection in the 21st centhury is the dumbest way to go. Take these for five days. And rest”

“Yes, Doctor”

“If you have any questions, page me” you say. Now that your hands and mind are not focused on the task of stitching her up, you’re aware of the fact you’re alone with Natasha in a room. If you stay here any longer, you’ll probably stab yourself with a needle or something even more idiotic.

“What if you’re not working?” Natasha calls when you walk to the door.

“Well, I’m sure someone else could…” you begin to say, completely oblivious about what she’s really asking.

“Or…”

“Yes?”

“I could get your phone number? For a consult, of course” she adds, smiling as you blush.

“Of course” you echo her words, pulling out a card and scribbling your number. “My personal number”

“Thanks, Doc” she says, lingering in the door for a second too long, and somehow getting out before you, who had been standing next to it for some time now.

Naturally, the second she’s out of sight, you pull the door to exit and it bounces against your foot, hitting your forehead.

“That’s more like it” you mumble, rubbing the spot.

At least she didn’t see it this time.

—

Your name is at the top of a list, but it doesn’t bring you any benefits, or enjoyment.

It means that when an Avenger gets hurt, you’re the first person they’ll page for surgery.

Two days ago, the code appeared suddenly in your pager and your heart dropped. You couldn’t help but think of Natasha, and guilt and shame invaded you in equal parts when you prayed it wasn’t her. The shame hit once you found out it was Barton, and you couldn’t help but feel relieved.

He had a bullet wound that went through and through, but you still decided to operate and clear your schedule to follow up every hour of his recovery. Clint had trusted you enough to introduce you to his family, to the point where you had been their doctor during the birth of Lila and Nathaniel.

Laura knew what happened, and was happy to hear you were overseeing his recovery. Barton was in good spirits, always welcoming any excuse to take leave and be at his farm.

So, as you both waited for his lab results, he began to throw cereal at you, saying he could aim exactly at your mouth even if you moved.

And he proves to be right, most of the time.

Because when Natasha walks in the room, you move your head to look at her and a piece of cereal hits you square in the eye.

“Barton!” you say, covering with one hand. “Oh, my God! I can’t go blind. I won’t operate again”

“You moved!” Clint protests.

“You said I could move!”

“Hey, it’s ok” Natasha says, kneeling in front of you. When you remove your hand and blink several times, you can tell she’s trying to hold back laughter. Glaring, you decide to swat her hand away, but then she’s craddling your face, smiling softly.

“I guess I’ll ask Fury for an eyepatch” you say after looking at her lips for a second too long.

Natasha rolls her eyes, and then turns to look at her friend.

“Maybe you should retire”

“I do more work at the farm than here, Tasha. I’m fine. Tell him, Doc?”

“Through and through, no shattered bones. But he still needs to rest” you say, standing up to take his results. You begin to go through everything, not paying attention to what Natasha and Clint are talking about.

Until…

“The mission can wait” he insists.

“You know I can’t”

“I’d feel better if you had someone with you. Take Steve, Wilson. Even Maximoff could be…”

“I’ll think about it” Natasha interrupts him. But her tone is clear; she’s not changing her mind.

Your stomach twists at the idea of Natasha being in a dangerous situation, which is stupid. For one, that’s her literal job and also, you’re just a doctor from SHIELD. She doesn’t care about you, and your own interest shouldn’t go beyond a professional capacity.

“You’re ready for discharge, Agent Barton” you say, trying to pretend you didn’t hear the exchange. “I’ll get the paperwork ready”

“Thank you, Doc”

You nod, leaving them to their conversation. You hope Clint can convince Natasha to postpone whatever mission she needs to go on, but you can’t say you’re optimistic about his chances.

While you review the paperwork, your mind goes back to the few text messages you’ve exchanged with Natasha ever since she asked for your number. Of course, it started out as a consultation over her stitches. You, checking up on her. Then, some random texts throughout the day. Still, nothing  that indicated she was thinking about asking you out.

Once you’re done with paperwork and run into her, you decide to take your chances.

“Hey, about what Clint said…”

“About working more when he’s home? He’s just being a baby, Laura…”

“No. The mission”

“That’s class…”

“Classified, I know. I just… promise to be careful. Please?” you fidget with your hands, looking at your feet.

“What? You don’t want to see me around?” she jokes.

“Not as a patient” you say, blushing at the way it comes across.

“So, maybe, when I’m back from that mission…” she says, smiling as she inches closer to you. Your breath hitches, but you don’t back down, or look away when her green eyes meet yours. “We can go out for dinner?”

“I’d like that”

Natasha nods, her hand reaching for yours as she leaves the hospital.

All you want is for her to come back, safe and sound.

—

We can’t always get what we want.

When you get paged, and see the code, you know it’s Natasha.

Daphne rushes right behind you, straight to the Medbay where Natasha’s getting evaluated.

Steve, Sam and Wanda are already there, but there’s another woman. She has blonde hair, and is wearing a suit you don’t recognise as something SHIELD agents use.

“Doctor…” Steve rushes to your side, but you shake your head.

“Tell me what happened. Now!”

Nurses and doctors step aside as you look at the X-rays, vitals and injuries. There’s a lot of blood, and Natasha is slipping in and out of consciousness.

“There was an explosion. Please, you have to help her” the blonde finally says. “Help my sister”

Those words make you falter for a second, but then BP’s crashing and you don’t have time to think about the fact that Natasha has a sister.

“We can’t wait. She has flail chest and her lung is collapsed. Page Lane, we’re moving to the OR now”

Everything becomes a blur, with people moving and prepping for surgery. The staff is trained for this and you have everything ready in under 5 minutes.

“Do you need anything else?” the head nurse says as you prepare to start.

“Silence. And focus. All of you. We’re gonna be here a long time”

7 hours, two units of blood and a lot of stitches later, Natasha is transferred to the ICU.

“I should have gone with her” Barton mumbles when you give the team an update. But he’s still wearing an armsling, and there’s no point in thinking about this now.

“Can I see her?” the woman who called Natasha her sister says, eyes red from crying.

“Later. Only staff can be at the ICU. I’ll stay with her, you go shower, eat something. Natasha needs to recover, she’ll be out of it for at least another day”

No one seems pleased with the idea of leaving the hospital, but Steve insists and they follow him, as usual. The blonde girl stays behind, and in that moment you realise she doesn’t even know Natasha’s friends.

To your surprise, she turns around and hugs you.

“Thank you. For saving her”

You wrap your arms around her shoulders, because it sucks that her sister is hurt and you can’t do more for her right now.

—-

For over 22 hours, you’ve been by Natasha’s  side. As soon as she’s out of the ICU, you call Yelena.

You give her an update on her status and what to expect. She listens, only showing emotion when she sees Natasha connected to all those machines.

“Is she… does it hurt her? Is she going to be ok?”

“Her body needs time to recover. But she’ll be fine. Natasha’s strong” you say, pushing back a strand of that fiery hair from her forehead. It’s silly, how much you miss her cheeky smile when you’re doing something stupid because she looks your way.

“So, you must be the girl she likes” Yelena says, making you look up.

“What?”

“While we were hiding, I asked her if she was seeing anyone. She told me she had a date with this cute doctor so we’d better hurry”

“Oh” you say, blushing. “Yeah, we were… going to dinner. When she came back”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault”

“No, it isn’t. Natasha wouldn’t want you to think that. Come here, sit. You can stay for as long as you want” you lead her to the couch, sitting right next to her.

“I hadn’t seen her in so long” she whispers, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“It’s ok, Yelena. You’ll have plenty of time with your sister. She’s gonna be out of missions for at least a month. But she’ll probably be grumpy about it” you joke, and the blonde laughs.

Exhaustion finally catches up with both of you, and without realising, Yelena ends up asleep on your shoulder. With a sigh, you close your eyes, convincing yourself it will only be for a couple of minutes.

By the time you open your eyes, a raspy chuckle makes you look up.

“I knew Yelena would like you”

“You’re up” you say, letting the blonde rest against the couch and standing up to check Natasha. You go over her blood pressure, the IV and pupils, but are interrupted by her hands holding on to your wrists.

“Hi” she says, smiling up at you.

“Hello, Agent. Can I please finish my examination?”

“What do I get in return?”

“Getting discharged”

“Trying to get rid of me?” she taunts and you have to roll your eyes. It’s been almost two days since she almost died and here she is, being a smartass.

“You’re the one who went through all the trouble just to get out of our date” you joke. Natasha doesn’t get to protest, because Yelena wakes up, rushing to her side.

“Sestra! Are you ok?”

Yelena switches to Russian, talking so fast even Natasha has trouble keeping up with her.

“Let’s just calm down, ok? I’ll give you guys a minute” you say, smiling at Natasha as Yelena drags a chair to sit next to her sister. You have a feeling that there are some things they have to talk about.

—

Time goes by quickly, and before you know it, it’s been three weeks since Natasha’s surgery. You’ve been texting more frequently, but you’re not expecting to see her anytime soon. Between reconnecting with Yelena and recovery, she has more than enough on her plate.

Work is distracting, but not enough. During small breaks you do end up thinking about her, and missing her.

You think nothing of it when you get paged to do a follow up, as it is a slow day and you’re short staffed.

But when you open the door, Natasha is smiling at you, in that way that makes you act like a fool. The shock lasts a second, and then you worry.

“Hey. Are you feeling ok? Why are you here? Are you hurt? I told you not to train for another week” you spiral, getting ready to order X-rays and a CT scan immediately.

Natasha calls your name, once and then louder, when you don’t look up from her file.

“I just wanted to see you” she says, making you blush. “But there’s this thing too. Thought I should get it checked”

“Ok, what is it?”

“Well, in spite of all the rumors, I do have a heart. And it has been beating faster, and I get this feeling in my stomach…” she begins to say. You nod, pulling out your stethoscope.

Natasha watches with a smile as you listen to her heartbeat, thinking how adorable you look when you’re all focused. Without realising, your other hand goes to rest on her knee, and she can’t help but let out a sigh, wishing you could be even closer.

“Ok, I hear it. It’s beating a little bit faster” you say, still oblivious. “Is there anything specific triggering this…?”

“I have an idea” she says, her hands resting on your waist. You finally look up, eyes lingering on her lips. Natasha sees realisation in your features, and takes it as a sign to inch closer, her lips brushing against yours.

It’s quick and tender, but it still makes your knees weak.

Well, this is going to be a problem. No way you can go back to work now that this happened. You’ll be so distracted that you’ll end up running over someone with a wheelchair or something.

“Let’s check again. Just wanna make sure your heart is ok” you say, leaning forward. You feel Natasha smile into the kiss, hands pulling you against her.

“What did the doctor say? Ah, gross!” Yelena walks in a moment later. “I didn’t think you meant this kind of physical exam, Natasha”

“Get out!” Natasha shouts, and you have to laugh.

“Gladly” Yelena huffs, slamming the door. She adds a second later. “And I’m telling everyone at the Compound!”

“So annoying” Natasha mumbles, but turns to look at you with a smile. “Is it anything serious? Will I be ok, Doc?”

“Yeah, you just need to kiss me more so your body gets used to the feeling” you say, meeting her lips in another kiss.

“I can definitely do that”

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part fifteen | r.c

summary:

“Hey Princess,” he greeted you with a cheerful smile, before his eyes wandered over to Topper. “Topper.”

“Maybank.”

Topper swept his eyes over JJ’s repaired bike and then to you, before looking back at your boyfriend. JJ wordlessly held out the helmet in your direction while holding eye contact with Topper, who clenched his jaw.

“I don’t like this guy,” he muttered into your ear as you hug him goodbye. “But it’s your life.”

OR; you're on a mission to mend bridges. succession rate goes about 50/50

pairing: rafe cameron x reader, jj maybank x reader

warnings: horny behavior and um.... you might get angry. That's all😃

word count: 3.2k

author’s note: it’s kinda short compared to the last few chapters, but i had to move things around to make everything work out the way i had planned, and i gotta say it’s def better than this! this chapter was kinda hard for me to write, but we move anyways😔🫣we are also approaching the final four chapters which is so insane to me. happy reading🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. fifteen: “for you I would ruin myself”

The group chat was exceptionally dry. Ever since the Enduro, it had been crickets. There wasn’t even the occasional ping from Kelce, sending in a stupid meme, which no one could understand but him. You couldn’t remember the last time the group chat was this dead. Honestly, you had expected the radio silence, knowing your friends. But still, it hurt.

Only a few weeks ago, you had thought about this exact scenario and then it happened, just like that. Maybe you had accidentally manifested it.

With a small sigh, you rolled over on your back staring at the ceiling. You heard steps coming up the stairs before they stopped at your door, and based on the lightness of them, it must be your mother.

“You’re not going out today?”

You glanced to your mother, shaking your head.

“No, I don’t think so. Are you?”

“Yes, I’m meeting your father out on the golf course for a tee time.”

With a small sigh, you nodded, straightening your head to stare at the ceiling again.

“Okay, have fun.”

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Despite her words, your mother lingered in the door for a few seconds before she retreated. You remembered how your parents used to take you to the golf course with them when they were playing with the Thorntons when you were younger, the adults playing their rounds while you and Topper were playing the kiddie course, even though Topper had always been better than you. He just played with you so you wouldn’t have to play by yourself.

“Hey mom wait!” You called out, jumping up from your bed to run after her. “Can you drop me off at Topper’s?”

A short bit later, you shut the passenger’s side door of your mom’s car behind you, waving at her as she pulls away, while you walked up the driveway to the Thornton residence. Neat rose hedges adorned the sidewalk, hiding sharp thorns beneath their petals. You always thought it was funny Mrs. Thornton chose roses for her garden, you know, considering.

Your knocks were timid on the front door, but it didn’t take long until it opened, revealing Topper. He took a deep breath when he saw you, wordlessly opening the door wider to let you in.

You wrenched your hands nervously as you walked past him, straight to the living room, taking refuge on the arm chair.

“I really was planning on telling him, Top.”

“And yet you still didn’t,” Topper pointed out with a flat voice, sitting down on the couch. He looked tired when he scrubbed his hand over his face, the way he always did when there was a disagreement between you. While Kelce remained the neutral Switzerland, Topper was always the peace talker. You could imagine that it could get tiresome after a while, especially because you and were both hot heads. Topper was lucky, that you rarely fought, but when you did, it was like it took 10 years off his life.

“Have you heard from him?” you asked carefully and Topper gave you a look.

“What do you think? All of my calls and texts went unanswered, and he’s not home when I come by his house. Kelce’s so distraught, he’s hanging out with Ruthie.”

You winced.

Ruthie had been obsessed with Topper ever since he asked her for a dance during junior prom. She always tried to insert herself into your friend group, to get closer to Topper and thought Kelce was the easiest way in. Once, Ruthie even said, she’d always wanted a “token gay friend”.

With a small sigh, you leaned back in the arm chair you were sitting in. You took in a small breath, drawing your legs closer to your chest, as you tried to find the right words.

“I’m really sorry,” you said quietly, the clump in your throat returning. “I messed everything up.”

Topper sighed softly at the sound of your watery voice and you heard the couch rustling before his arms wrapped around you.

“Come on Precious, you know I cry when you cry,” he mumbled and you choked out a laugh when you pulled away to see his wet eyes.

“Sorry,” you sniffled, wiping your check with the back of your hand. “I knew Rafe would find out eventually but I didn’t think it would blow up like that.”

“Yeah…” Topper signed, leaning back, crouched down in front of you. “He hasn’t been well, Precious. Even before all that. Something’s going on with him.”

You nodded in silent agreement, leaning back in your seat.

“I’m going to talk to him. Apologize and try to explain. It’s not fair that he’s mad at you…”

“You sure you wanna fall on your sword like that?” Topper asked sceptically and you rolled your eyes at him.

“It’s not a sword, don’t try to act smart. Rafe is my best friend and I lied to him, that’s on me,” you pointed out, frowning at the distance before you turned back to Topper, your forehead smoothing again. “We good?”

Topper gave you a wry smile before nodding. “Yeah, Precious. We’re good.”

Beaming a smile at him, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. “Thanks Top,” you sighed in relief. At least you hadn’t lost all of your friends. Though if you had to guess, the talk with Rafe probably wouldn’t go half as easy as it did with Topper.

A buzzing on your lap made Topper pull away, and he frowned at your phone before picking it up, to show you the screen.

JJ [05/29/24: 12:49 pm]: you home?

“His timing’s got to be better,” he groaned and you snickered, taking your phone from him. JJ really had a knack for interrupting.

Princess 👑 [05/29/24: 12:50 pm]: no, at Topper’s

JJ [05/29/24: 12:50 pm]: be there in 10

“He’s coming to pick me up,” you sighed and Topper gave you a look.

“Did you ask him to?”

“So he just… Told you he’s coming?”

Topper’s face told you exactly what he was thinking, and you couldn’t really blame him. You were thinking the same thing.

“Yeah, but I can’t be bothered to argue with him,” you shrugged with your shoulders. “It’s not a hill I’m willing to die on.”

Topper wasn’t entirely convinced but luckily he held back any further comments. It wasn’t long before the telltale roaring of JJ’s bike sounded in the neighborhood, and Topper walked you out, clearly unimpressed when JJ stopped in front of the porch on his bike.

It looked like new. Again.

After the crash at the race, you had the bike repaired at the shop, on your dime. JJ has refused, at first of course, but you had insisted. Rafe caused the fall and it was because of you, so you felt like it was your responsibility to take care of it. Plus, you didn’t want to feel like you owed JJ something.

“Hey Princess,” he greeted you with a cheerful smile, before his eyes wandered over to Topper. “Topper.”

“Maybank.”

Topper swept his eyes over JJ’s repaired bike and then to you, before looking back at JJ. He wordlessly held out the helmet in your direction while holding eye contact with Topper, who clenched his jaw.

“I don’t like this guy,” he muttered into your ear as you hug him goodbye. “But it’s your life.”

You gave him a wry smile as you pulled away.

“I’ll text you later,” you told him, pecking his cheek before you skipped down the stairs towards JJ. You had barely put on the helmet and climbed on the bike behind JJ when he let the engine roar out, driving off the drive way. You had been on his bike so many times at this point, that you were used to it, leaning into the turn when he took one. It wasn’t much longer until the road turned from road to gravel, then dirt. You had been back at his place only once, with JJ trying to avoid being home as much as possible. From what you could tell, he and his dad didn’t have the best relationship, which confirmed most of the rumors the island were spreading about Luke Maybank.

“Your dad not home?” you asked after getting off the bike, pulling the helmet off.

“Nah, he’s working on a right this week,” JJ replied, turning his bike off and gesturing towards the door. “Mi casa es tu casa.”

“Oh you’re speaking Spanish now?” you teased and he smirked at you as he walked up to you.

“Just in case Mr. Diaz talks smack about me again,” JJ said, putting his hands on your waist to give you a gentle shove towards the house. “Now get in or do I have to carry you in?”

You giggled when he dug his fingers into your waist, ushering you inside, while he pressed his chest against your backside. He made quick work of leading you straight to his bedroom, where both of you felt more comfortably in. For him, it was the space he retreated to, to hide from his father, if you had to guess, and for you it was because the rest of the house seemed so... Cold.

His bedroom on the other hand was warm, full of small trinkets on the window sill, the small desk and the night stand cramped between the wall and his bed. The bedsheets were a bright blue, wrinkling under your body when you threw yourself on his bed.

“Did you change your bedsheets?” you asked coyly, flattening said sheets with the palm of your hand while JJ closed his bedroom door.

“Only the best for Princess,” he answered matter of factly, acting very prim and proper before he knelt on the bed, giving you a sneaky grin, making him look very boyish. His biceps flexed, as he crawled on top of you and you were quick to run your hands up his arms, free from any fabric due to his fashionable choice of a tanktop.

You had told him once, that he had nice arms, and now he was wearing sleeveless shirt more than not.

JJ settled in between your legs and you instinctively leaned up, as he met you halfway to kiss you. Your hands intertwined behind his neck as you kissed, while his snuck under your shirt, caressing the side of your rib cage. Slowly, he pushed the hem off your shirt up, exposing your stomach before he nudged it over your chest. You allowed him to take it off, watching as he tossed the shirt aside. JJ wasted no time to attach his lips to your neck, as he kissed down your body.

“I do want to thank you...” he murmured against your skin and it took you a second to process what he was saying. This wasn’t a situation where your head was clear.

“Wait, what?”

JJ let out a small laugh, like he was embarrassed, ducking his head. You forehead creased when it finally dawned on you what he was referring to.

“JJ,” you sighed, waiting until he peered up at you through his long, blond lashes, and you drew a hand back to push the hair out of his face. “You don’t have to do this to thank me, just do it because you want me.”

He gave you a look. “You’re crazy if you think I don’t want you. But I can kill two birds with one stone,” JJ pointed out. “I don’t take handouts.”

“It wasn’t a handout,” you corrected him, frowning. “That crash was my fault.”

“No, it was Rafe’s.”

“So you want Rafe to pay for your bike?” you asked dryly, before shaking your head. “Look, I know the crash was Rafe’s fault. But he took it out on you, even though he was mad at me. And rightfully so.”

“Don’t make excuses for him,” JJ scoffed and you gave him a look.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” he snorted. “He’s an asshole and it’s not helping that you’re picking up after him.”

You let out a small, annoyed sigh. How the fuck did you get here?

“I hurt him, JJ. Granted, he did overreact, I’m not making excuses for that, but I did play a role in for what happened.”

JJ groaned, slapping his forehad with his open palm, an act that irritated the hell out of you. “Princess, Rafe’s not who you think he is. Neither are all of your so called friends.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your patience starting to run thin. “These are my best friends we’re talking about. I don’t talk shit about your friends, why are you talking shit about mine?”

“Because my friends are decent human beings,” JJ pointed out and you raised a brow at him, pursing your lips.

“Stop it,” you finally snapped, getting angry. JJ’s face softened at your outburst, reaching for your hand in an attempt to ease your anger, but you evaded his touch, shaking your head. “You know if you have that image of my friends, what does that say about what you think of me?”

“Well, you’re different.”

“Why?” you exclaimed. “You and your friends keep saying that I’m different but never say why.”

JJ shrugged with his shoulders. “I don’t know. You’re a girl. Rafe and the guys, they’re just a bad influence on you, and that’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

Your mouth dropped at his words.

“Excuse me?”

“Princess,” JJ sighed in a way, like he was explaining why the sky was blue to a fucking toddler. “I’m just saying, you were born into that world, with those friends, who pushed their own opinion on you.”

You let out a scoff in disbelief when you finally realized what he was trying to say.

“You don’t respect me,” you said in a calm tone and JJ’s eyes widened.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hey, now we know that’s not true, I said we didn’t have to fuck when you said no, remember?” he reminded you, which you only laughed at. This was exactly what you had expected him to say.

“Respecting consent and respecting me are two different things, JJ,” you pointed out to him, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You parade me around like I’m a prized possession, unable to make my own decisions. I choose to be friends with Rafe and Topper and Kelce, and I can form my own thoughts. I mean, do you really think I would be with you if I thought about you the way they do?”

JJ seemed at loss for words for while, running his hands through his hair, frustrated.

”I mean, look at Sarah,” he then said defensively. “She was so uptight and prissy when she was with Topper, and now she’s the most carefree and happy person ever since she’s been with John B.”

Did he really just compare you and him to John B and Sarah? You tipped your head back to roll your eyes at the ceiling, getting out from under JJ to stand, picking up your shirt from the floor.

“Sarah is happy because John B loves and respects her for who she is. You don’t respect me.”

Pulling your shirt back on, you tried to even your breaths, before you spoke again. “Thanks, JJ. I think it’s better if we stop seeing each other. Clearly, it’s not working.”

JJ gaped at you, but you don’t give him the time to answer, already walking out of the house. Distantly, you could hear him run after you, the door slamming against the wall when he stepped out on the front porch, as you walked off his property.

“Hey come on, at least let me give you a ride home!” JJ shouted after you, but you turned around, your step never faltering.

“I’m good. Princess can find her way back home.”

With those words, you kept walking, the sun beating down on you and the more you walked, the more your anger started melting into shame, your shoulders hunched, like you were carrying it on your back. You should have known, this thing with JJ wouldn’t last long. You had put up with a lot, which you usually wouldn’t have. He kept calling you Princess, which you didn’t mind, but it was the way he treated you, manhandling you and making decisions for you, like you were a doll, unable to form your own thoughts. At least now you knew why.

It wasn’t long until you reached the main street, and while the sturdiness of the paved road felt better under your feet it also meant being exposed to curious onlookers. These streets were not made for walking, and it didn’t help that you were strolling around the Cut, sticking out like a sore thumb. You couldn’t wait until you got back to Figure Eight, at least you felt like you could blend in. The more you walked, the more the entire situation started dawning on you, tears pricking in your eyes.

“God, what the fuck am I even crying for?” you muttered to yourself, wiping the tears rolling down your cheek away, but they quickly were replaced with fresh ones. It wasn’t long until you reached the one long stretch of road that lead over to the bridge, with no chances of cover as the cars drove by one by one, but you had no other choice than walk it.

Obviously, you could call a cab or an uber, but you’d feel like a hypocrite after throwing those words at JJ only to back down again, so you braved the last bit of walking on the Cut. Every time a car passed by, however, you turned your face away, not wanting random passersby to see you crying on the street like cliché girl being depressed after a break up. You could hear a particularly fast car coming up from behind you and you turned your face to the left, waiting for it to pass. But instead of driving off and becoming a small dot in the distance, the car suddenly stopped, before it reversed on the street.

You froze, being mugged really was the last thing you needed right now, even though you didn’t have anything on you. Even your dignity was holding on by a thread the longer you walked. Your heart started beating really fast, your mind racing with what to do, until you realized that it was Rafe’s truck. Then, another type of panic set in. Quickly, you wiped your face, and cleared your throat, to remove all hints of your depressive episode, before he came to a stop next to you, rolling his windows down.

“What the hell are you doing walking out here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: surprise?😃

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋’𝐒 ! ❞

　stalking your social’s is literally their hobby ! pt. 1

ft. various characters , insensitive jokes , for all girlies !

❤️ 2.5mio. 💬 173.9k. ⌲ 882.7k.

official.worldnews ❗️model and actress [name] [lastname] sighted with an unknown man❗️

ryuassei.only THAT SHOULD BE ME, HOLDING YOUR HAND. THAT SHOULD BE ME, MAKING YOU LAUGH. THAT SHOULD BE ME, TH

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio this definitely counts as harassment right???

　　⤷ rinnie_poo yes, now report him.

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi get him banned already, i’m tired of spam reporting

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 II secnd whaz isagi sayd

　　⤷ ryuassei.only of fucking course he got his bf name right 😹😹

　　⤷ theonlymikageheir the gays

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi we know damn well u ain’t the one talking rn 🤐

　⤷ rizzninja0010 stop being a harassment to my girlfriend

　　⤷ cawcawssassin get this grandpa into the white room again, I think he’s in for another hour…

　⤷ rinnie_poo mf got his phone taken by ego, the world is healing.

bunnythebunny oh? we got caught already? but nevermind, let the world know we’re one, corazón ❤️

　⤷ itoshisae.official since when are poor people allowed to be delusional?

　　 ⤷ bunnythebunny oh I didn’t know mr. “I am going to be the best striker” is aware of the meaning behind delusional

　⤷ userrando6969 just because my phone got taken away doesn’t mean ur fugly ahh gets to steal my wife 😂

　⤷ nessfetchthis I’m so done with delusional people

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi omfg AIN’T NO WAY YOU JUST WROTE THAT

ichigostwin y’all what are the chances that I will be that guy in the future?

　⤷ ryuassei.only ZERO JS LIKE UR DREAM TO BE SOME GOOFY AHH HERO

　⤷ theredpanther dare I say, chances are higher than shidou’s?

　　⤷ u20oliverawr ofc princess, if it’s you saying that 😏

　　⤷ u20oliverawr can I slide into dm’s like this?

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi no offense but what are even the chances you’ll meet her

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 not zerow

　　⤷ theredpanther you ALMOST got it 😔

　　⤷ ichigostwin I’ve been waiting for too long for Bachira to write ONE sentence properly

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio why we blaming bachira’s autocorrection?

　　⤷ ryuassei.only delusional final boss

userrando1083 i’m scared of that pedo in the comment sections

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi you’re so right, gay AND pedo

　　⤷ ifuragirlhmu who are we talking about

　　⤷ userrando3928 blud is SO desperate — y’all please look at this username

　　⤷ userrando0283 AHAHAHAHAH WTF

　　⤷ ifuragirlhmu you’re laughing but it actually worked

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi desperate x desperate

userrando2048 PLEASE ONE CHANCE.

　⤷ ryuassei.only gtfo 🥀

view all 173.9k comments.

❤️ 2.1mio. 💬 99.3k. ⌲ 121.8k.

mrs.worldwide thank you for taking the picture @itoshisae.official 🫶

ryuassei.only ofc my glorious king took this divine picture ❤️ ugh let’s have a threesome right now. you two must be the most glorious, elegant, intelligent, charming, kind, thoughtful, strong, courageous, creative, brilliant, gentle, humble, generous, passionate, wise, funny, loyal, dependable, graceful, radiant, calm, confident, warm, compassionate, witty, adventurous, respectful more.

　⤷ theonlymikageheir you reek of gayness

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi for once, i’m shutting my mouth and silently agree.

　⤷ rinnie_poo god can’t someone just ban him already? just seeing him makes me feel harassed

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 reprt scamming doeznt word 💔💔

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio translation: report spamming doesn’t work!

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi thanks I think I srsly needed this translation for once

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 u think I haven’t tried already? tried my best 💔

　　⤷ cawcawssassin seems like your best wasn’t enough

itoshisae.official of course. I’m glad you liked the pictures I took of you.

　⤷ mrs.worldwide when’s the next date? 🤭

　　⤷ itoshisae.official whenever you want.

　⤷ ryuassei.only pictureS??? THERE ARE MORE? pls send them over, senpai 👉👈

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio oh? what if I just hack into your phone…

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 arn’t wee goof frIENDS??? PLZ I ALSI WANT EM

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi bachira is right… aren’t we good friends, hiori? ☺️

　　⤷ cawcawssassin remember who was always wise towards you and always gave you the nest answers to your mind breaking questions ❤️

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 remember the pen I lend you when we had an exam?

　　⤷ cawcawssassin boy stfu we didn’t attend the same school

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 you HATE me, don’t yoi?

　　⤷ cawcawssassin you* and yes, I do cheating manwhore

bunnythebunny is this considered as cheating? this surely wounds me like one… you should invite me too next time

　⤷ itoshisae.official fuck no

　⤷ mrs.worldwide oh I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings ☹️ I will make sure to invite you too next time!

　　⤷ itoshisae.official please just don’t.

　　⤷ cawcawssassin are my eyes deceiving me or is THE itoshi sae saying please?

　　⤷ ryuassei.only DADDY LONG LASHES CAUGHT SAYING PLEASE BUT NOT IN BED?

userrando4939 ❗️Petition to ban Shidou Ryusei from Instagram❗️Here is the link: https://www.signhere.com/official

　⤷ theonlymikageheir this isn’t fast enough, I’m ready to pay to ban him.

　　⤷ rinnie_poo hurry up

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi what are you waiting for?

　　⤷ sharkdududu plz do !!!!

　⤷ ryuassei.only I will fucking remember all 19.357 users who signed.

　　⤷ userrando6458 19.358 now

　　⤷ userrando2938 make it 19.359

　　⤷ userrando1048 19.360

　　⤷ ultrasadist_hio 19.361 lol

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 19.370

　　⤷ ryuassei.only schizo dude can’t even get the number right 💔

　　⤷ ichigostwin no bachira’s right if you checked the numbers. he used his nine accounts. and make it 19.371

view all 99.3k comments.

❤️ 3.2mio. 💬 288.4k. ⌲ 428k.

mrs.worldwide thanks for keeping me company today @bunnythebunny 🫶 and sorry for calling you so late at night, I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother 😅☹️

ryuassei.only now THIS is cheating wife but I can’t find myself to leave you 🥀 our seven kids and papi sae needs you so of course you’re forgiven 😣😣

　⤷ theonlymikageheir say bye to insta

　⤷ rinnie_poo gtfo creep

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi hide or run, it’s that weirdo again

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 for once, I’m giving you right

　　⤷ hide.its.slursagi oh god fuck off

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 ho is u breaking mah heart AND stomping on it? 💔💔💔

　　⤷ cawcawssassin that’s how I know I raised them right ❤️❤️

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio alexa play shut up by ariana grande

　⤷ ryuassei.only mf YOU ALL HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM WITH JEALOUSY UGH. OR IS IT ENVY??? Y’ALL ENVY IS A SIN BTW

　　⤷ BUZZchirahehe2 plz stfxu

　　⤷ ryuassei.only not the schizo dude again 💀💀 I’m not claiming this energy 🙏

bunnythebunny of course :) I’d keep you company any time, just give me a call

　⤷ mrs.worldwide I hope I’m forgiven for last time! 😣

　　⤷ bunnythebunny you’re always forgiven, don’t worry your pretty little head about it

　　⤷ ryuassei.only I’m puking

　　⤷ bunnythebunny good.

　　⤷ ryuassei.only oh wait nvm lemme post an edit where I’m smiling all the time

　⤷ rinnie_poo god I hate people like you

　　⤷ bunnythebunny I didn’t doubt this for a second, just like your big bro

　⤷ userrando2047 OMFG ARE MY TWO FAV CELEBRITIES DATING???

　⤷ userrando5948 ARE YOU DATING??

　⤷ userrando3958 OH EM GEEE!!!

userrando9374 y’all should stay loyal to sae x [name] wtf??? what’s wrong with you

　⤷ userrando0448 YUH ALL THE WAY? SAE X [name] SHIPPER TILL THE DAY I DIE

　⤷ userrando3048 UGH YES I WAS WONDERING WHY EVERYONE WAS SWITCHING ALL OF A SUDDEN?

　⤷ userrando9374 I’m in enemy’s territory

　　⤷ userrando4048 then gtfo?

　⤷ userrando8474 I FOUND MY PEOPLE ❤️

　⤷ userrando1000 UGH YESSSS SPEAK THE TRUTH GNG WALK THE WALK TALK THE TALK

　⤷ ryuassei.only sae x [name] x ryusei hehe 😛

official.worldnews ❗️BUNNY AND [name] ARE DATING❗️

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi oh god before we get shidou banned, what about this acc

　⤷ theonlymikageheir not those stalker again 🥀 worse than shidou himself

　　⤷ ryuassei.only heck yeah

　⤷ ultrasadist_hio I will just burn them all down…

　　⤷ cawcawssassin his dark side came out y’all… take cover and all

　　⤷ rizzninja0010 it’s giving “now there's a devil on my shoulder where the angels used to be and he’s calling me the queen.” ahh

michahhel.kaiser alright, is this how it is?

　⤷ nessfetchthis no michael!! they’re just friends so don’t worry :))

　　⤷ theredpanther “just friends” proceeds to hang out at midnight with those couple ahh pictures? be SO for real???

　　⤷ nikoniko_nii not even he himself can believe what he just said lol

　⤷ hide.its.slursagi alright who invited THIS mf? crawl back into the corner you came from ugh

view all 288.4k comments.

© kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !

[callsign-rogueone]

gentle giant

garrick tavis x reader (angel!)

words: 2.1k

🏷️: smut, first time in the relationship, mentions of penetration being painful, but they stop and do alternate activities, because how are these fantasy heroines always taking pipe the size of their forearm with no lube or anything, thigh riding, gare gets a handy and loses his mind a little, mentions of size difference between you, but I tried to just emphasize him being big instead of saying you are tiny because not all of us are violet sized, especially not myself, you wear his shirt and it’s implied to be big on you, his hands are bigger, he’s taller… I think it’s easy enough for everyone to relate. this is kinda rushed but when I saw the prompt for today I knew I had to finish this draft that literally had the same title already! posting with 1h20m to spare 🥳

“Are you sure you want to— oh, fuck,” Garrick breathes, his grip on your waist tightening as you lower yourself down.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Your words are cut with a soft whimper as you sink lower, stretching around him. You’re trying to keep your cool, but he can feel your thighs shaking, feel you squeezing him so fucking tightly, your breaths coming out in pathetic little pants as you try to adjust to the thickness.

“Angel,” he says softly, moving his hands to your waist. “If it’s too much, we can—”

“I can take it,” you interrupt. “Just give me a second.”

Maybe if you shift your hips a little, you can get a better angle, and it’ll stop feeling like you’re being torn apart.

Nope. That’s even worse.

Hold your breath, then, so he can’t tell how much it hurts, and you don’t kill the mood. This is the first time you’ve done anything more than kiss, after all. It should stop hurting after a few minutes, right? Just power through, and…

It’s too easy for him to lift you up off of him and sit you on his thigh, wrapping his arms around you and stroking your back. “I don’t want you to be in pain, Angel. We should stop.”

“M’ sorry,” you say in a small voice, working your head into the side of his neck.

“Don’t apologize, Angel. It’s okay.” He continues smoothing his palms up and down your back in slow, grounding movements. “What do you want to do? We can go to sleep, or just cuddle for a while… or we could have some fun in a different way.”

You pull back to look at him. “I didn’t completely kill the moment?”

He’s grinning ear to ear. “Are you kidding? I have the most beautiful woman on the continent sitting in my lap with no pants on, and it turns out that my dick is actually too big.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he’d find a way to joke about this, and make it feed his ego. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

You sit up straighter and guide him back into another kiss with a hand on his jaw, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.

His hands find your waist again, slipping underneath your — his — shirt, and smoothing up your ribs to rest just below your breasts. He’s always been touchy with you, but even after being the two of you a couple for a few months now, he’s still a little hesitant to touch you anywhere intimate, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. It’s cute, really.

You reach down, settling your hands on his wrists and guiding his hands up to where he really wants them to be. He’s gentle, massaging the soft skin and brushing his thumbs over your nipples. It’s a new sensation, a soft, buzzy pleasure that adds to the desire growing within you.

The kisses had started off gentle, slow and loving, meant to reassure you that he still wanted you despite your difficulties, but now it’s more than that — you’re back to the same eager, frenzied makeout that had started this whole thing off.

He pulls back for air, and you whine softly, scooting closer.

He gives you a sly smile. “Someone’s needy. You enjoying yourself there?”

Your cheeks warm as you realize what he’s talking about — you’ve been rocking your hips against his thigh for the past few minutes, in search of any kind of stimulation.

“If you want to get yourself off like that, that is more than fine with me.”

There’s no denying that it felt really nice, but could you really make yourself cum that way?

It wouldn’t hurt to try, you suppose.

You nod shyly, giving another exploratory rock of your hips against his thigh. It’s perfect for this; wide, firm, but pliant enough to be comfortable. Just like the rest of him — thick muscle, with just the right amount of softness covering it, good for sparring and cuddling and several other things, including this. And there’s just something about the size of him, the way he towers over you, and how much bigger he is than you, that makes your heart race.

Is it a little superficial? Maybe. But he feels the same way about you.

The first time he’d seen you wear one of his shirts, that draped down to your thighs, just long enough to cover your ass, he’d forgotten how to speak. Even before you’d admitted your feelings to each other, he’d loved comparing the size of your hands, making jokes about being able to see over the top of your head, and being able to move you around effortlessly, guiding you through crowds or sitting you in his lap like this…

And he’s always loved your softness — both the feel of your skin, your hands smooth and soft compared to the roughened skin of his palms from all his training and exercise, and the plush of your body, so easy to relax into, to cuddle up with and rest his head on, to knead in those giant hands of his while you do things like this…

He pulls back, his nose brushing against your cheek. “You mind if I help myself out a little?”

You shake your head no; of course you don’t mind. If anything, watching him is going to help you get there.

He wasn’t lying about you not having killed the mood — he’s still hard, aching with need. And even held in his own hand, he still looks giant.

You take mental note of the way he’s doing it, the lazy pace and the way he twists his hand when he reaches the top before sliding back down, soft little sighs leaving his lips every now and then.

He probably does this quite often, to know what he likes. He might have even done it while thinking of you — you’ve certainly spent more nights with your hand in your panties and his name on your lips than you’d ever admit.

As good as this feels, it’s tiring. Your legs were already aching from the day’s training, and this isn’t helping you at all. You sigh in frustration, your hips slowing, but you continue to rock back and forth, sitting up a little straighter to reach his lips.

He’s always known exactly what you want, and what you need — you gasp into his mouth as he takes over, sliding you back and forth over his thigh with minimal effort. This is much better, enabling you to concentrate on the feeling of the muscle rubbing against your clit instead of the ache in your hips and thighs.

And it’s godsdamned sexy how strong he is, how he can handle you any way he pleases.

He leans forward, his other hand sliding up your neck to tilt your head back, allowing him access to the side of your neck.

Despite this being the farthest you’ve ever gone together, Garrick has clearly established that no inch of your skin will go un-kissed, or otherwise unloved. He’s an excellent multitasker — his lips are still on your neck, one hand helping guide you back and forth against his thigh, the other hand having returned to your chest, just playing with you, groping and stroking and pinching, just seeing what you like.

It’s soft little circles of his thumb that seem to have you the most vocal, arching forward into his touch. He’ll keep doing that, then.

“Gare,” you breathe, your hand finding the one that rests on your hip, your fingers curling around his.

He pulls back from your neck with a soft, wet sound — there’s definitely going to be some bruises there tomorrow, that Xaden will tease you both for relentlessly — and even with your eyes closed in concentration, you can hear the smile in his voice. “Aww, are you close, angel? You wanna cum for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp, pushing your hips forward to help him, and help yourself. “Yes, please, keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“All of it.”

He’s a perfect soldier, excellent at following orders. And he’d do anything you asked without hesitation, especially if it pleased you like this. His lips return to the side of your neck, sucking at your pulse point, continuing those little strokes of his thumb…

You nearly sob as it washes over you, your inner muscles clamping around thin air, and your hand clutching his. He rocks you back and forth a few more times to help you ride it out, still mouthing at your neck, but after a moment it becomes too much — you start to squirm, squeezing your thighs together around his, which he takes as a sign to stop.

You slump forward against his chest, dazed and a little bit in awe of the fact that he just made you cum without laying a finger on you. Your tummy feels fuzzy, your whole body relaxed… and your pain appears to have ceased, which is an added bonus.

You’re vaguely aware of his hand rubbing your back. He's talking to you, cooing praises into your ear. “Did so good, angel. N’ I’ll never get tired of seeing you in my clothes.”

You stifle a yawn, lifting your head up enough to give him a kiss. Your lips land more toward his jaw than his mouth, but that’ll have to do for now. “Thank you,” you add. “Felt really good.”

He reciprocates your kiss, a soft peck to your temple. “Anything for my perfect girl. S’ late, you wanna go to bed?”

“In a bit,” you murmur, smearing another kiss against his jaw as you reach down again, wrapping your hand around him. He gasps in surprise, his thigh tensing underneath you. “Is this okay?”

“Uh-huh,” he breathes, his eyes still locked with yours, subconsciously pushing his hips into your hand, rutting forward into your touch.

You hum happily, boldened by how quickly he’s falling apart beneath you. “Felt so good grinding on your thigh like that. All that strong muscle, and the way you could move me so easily…”

You punctuate each sentence with a slip of your thumb over his tip, watching the way his abs clench as he squirms underneath you.

“Oh, just like that, Angel,” he breathes, “Fuck, your hands are so — soft, feels so good… so much better than — fuck — better than mine. Not gonna last.”

You hum against the side of his neck, kissing and sucking at the skin just above his collarbone, where his relic ends.

He whines, his hips pushing against your hand faster now, his desperation increasing. “Please,” he gasps. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” you murmur. “I’m not going to stop. Especially not when you asked so nicely.”

He buries his face in the side of your neck, his fingers digging into the softness of your hips.

If you thought his needy little whines were pretty, then the sound he makes when he cums is absolutely gorgeous — it’s a shame that it’s muffled by your skin. You’ll have to do this again soon, so you can hear it properly.

His thighs are shaking, and your hand is covered in his spend, but just like he did for you, you don’t stop right away, just slow down and let him ride it out. “Holy shit,” he pants, catching his breath. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that fast before. That’s actually a little embarrassing.”

You can’t help but giggle, pleased with yourself. “You’ll just have to show me how long you can last, then.”

He groans. “Don’t say shit like that right now. You’ll get me hard again.”

“Oh nooo, we can’t have that.”

“Not tonight, at least. We need to get some sleep.”

“Fair enough,” you agree through a yawn.

You’ve both already showered, and used all your energy for the day, so a quick wipe-down is enough until morning, and then it’s back to your normal routine of getting tucked into bed together. You’ve only used your own bed twice since getting your own room a month ago, now. You might as well just share his room, at this point, but there’s only one desk and one closet, which would cramp things up.

“Angel?” he asks softly, before turning the light out.

You hum in reply, eyes already closed.

“I really enjoyed tonight, even if it wasn’t what we planned.”

“I did too. Was fun.”

“Good,” he says quietly. “I just don’t want you to feel bad, or anything. Really.”

“And that right there is why I love you so much,” you murmur, scooting over to rest your head on his chest. “You’re big and scary, but you’re really just a gentle giant. With me, at least.”

“Only with you,” he agrees, stroking a hand over your hair. “I have a reputation to maintain, y’know.”

“Mm. Can’t have people finding out that you’re a big softie.”

“They’ll put it together eventually. But not today.”

[h0useslut]

quite the job you’ve done on me sir! ౨ৎ

requests | masterlist

pairing : aaron hotchner x bookstore owner! shy! reader

w/c : 2k

warnings : age gap, (reader is late 20s/early 30s, hotch is early 40s) hurt/comfort, thunderstorm anxiety, soft!dad hotch, emotional intimacy

summary : reader is a quiet bookstore owner with a too big heart and too many paperbacks. hotch is just a federal agent who didn’t believe in softness.

a/n : laufey meets you’ve got mail! i suggest you listen to lover girl while reading this :)

You’re in a reckless fever, almost love struck.

You didn’t think you’d be in this position ever again. You could count only so many heartbreaks, but still - you found yourself absolutely and irrevocably charmed by Aaron Hotchner.

Aaron was so sure he shouldn’t be the one doing this - going into a very cozy-looking bookstore in his neighbourhood even though he constantly tried to persuade Jack into going with Jessica, but he just wouldn’t listen. He wanted his dad. Of course he did.

And that’s how tall, brooding, and serious FBI agent Aaron Hotchner found himself inside your cute little store.

Despite feeling a little (that was an understatement) uneasy, a hint of a smile splayed on his lips when he walked inside the bookstore. There were fairy lights here and there throughout the shop, colourful books and overall it was adorable.

Just like its owner, he thought.

You were behind a massive pile of books: children’s books, new releases, romance novels literally swallowing you whole as you tried to sort them out.

You hadn’t even heard the small bell of the door opening, that’s how distracted you were.

“Excuse me,” A low voice said, sounding measured and far too serious for a place full of plush reading chairs and illustrated book covers.

You jumped, letting out a tiny yelp as a few books slipped from your hands and fell.

“Oh my- Oh, I’m sorry” You stammered, cheeks already burning from embarrassment. You scrambled to get the books back into place (aka the large stacks you’ve made) before properly greeting the man. “I’m so sorry, really. I didn’t even hear the door- uh, hi”

The man - tall, in a dark suit and looking comically out of place in your soft fairy-lit space, gave the smallest smile. It was big enough to make your heart flutter.

“It’s alright. My son just wanted to stop by”

Oh shit. You could barely remember to tear your gaze away from his face to greet the little boy next to him.

“Hi, sweetheart!” You said softly, crouching down to his level. Unlike his father, who looked like he hadn’t smiled in a decade, Jack had the cutest little grin ever.

“Hi,” He chirped, rocking on his heels. “Do you have any books about pirates and outer space?”

You smiled at the oddly specific request, and glanced up at his dad - who happened to have an almost apologetic expression.

“Well, I’m sure I’ve got something,” You said, standing up on your feet. “Come on, let’s see what we can find”

Jack practically jumped on his feet as he followed you to the children’s section, little sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor. It made you smile to yourself.

You see, spending time with kids - helping them pick out whatever was on their minds was never a problem. You weren’t shy- closed off, or anything remotely like the way you were with adults.

Hiding behind counters and books was something you’d always enjoyed.

You cast another glance back, half expecting Mr. Dark and Brooding to stay back or even leave. But he followed. Slowly. Hands in his pockets, eyes on you.

No, not on you.

Studying you.

Like you were something… curious. He studied the way your sweater hung on your body, jeans loosely covering your converse. You were unfamiliar. Like a story he hadn’t profiled yet.

You felt your pulse fluttering again.

“So,” You said over your shoulder, “Pirates… Outer space… Hmm, maybe space pirates?” you mumbled, more to yourself.

Aaron saw how your delicate fingers traced over the spines of different books, like you knew them better than anything in the world.

Maybe he was right about that. He didn’t want to profile another attractive woman. Yet he still found it interesting.

Jack gasped, a tiny sound that made your hands stop. “There are really books about these things?”

“Definitely! There are books about everything” You replied with a small wink. “That’s the secret”

You knew Aaron was still watching you. You could feel him. Standing behind one of the softly lit shelves, arms crossed and a very, very thoughtful look carved into the sharp lines of his face.

You were good with kids. That was obvious. But it was more than that.

You talked to them like they mattered - which was a rare sight. You saw them.

He wasn’t so sure that he was used to that.

You hadn’t expected him to speak. He didn’t look like the kind of man who filled up silence just for the sake of it. But then again, you didn’t expect him to keep staring at you like that.

“Do you read all of these?” He asked.

You glanced back at him, almost taken aback by his question. There wasn’t any judgment in it. Just curiosity. Honest, quiet curiosity.

You nodded slowly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I try. I’m always falling behind though. They keep writing more”

That earned a real smile for him. It reached his eyes, his dimples showed- and oh god, why were you even thinking about it?

Get it together, you thought to yourself. This wasn’t a romance novel.

Jack was busy flipping through the book you gave him, his small hands lost inside the pages. It allowed you to linger a second longer on Aaron.

“You look like someone who remembers everything they’ve read,” You said before you could stop yourself.

He tilted his head, just slightly. “You look like someone who rereads the same story ten times just because it feels safe”

“Was that… why are you profiling me?” You asked, a blush already on your cheeks. Aaron found it cute, he must admit.

You hadn’t known he was an FBI agent. And he tried to downplay the evidence of surprise on his face when you used that word.

Smart girl, he thought.

He gave you an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry. Old habits”

You shook your head, shrugging. “It’s okay, really. You’re not wrong”

You weren’t used to being seen like that. Not quietly, not gently. Not by someone like him.

“Daddy, I want that one!” Came Jack’s voice, getting you out of the stupid, foolish, and high school girlish trance you were when you spoke to Aaron.

“Reader’s choice” You fretted, taking the book from his hands and gesturing for them to come along with you.

“That’s a really good pick, buddy” You smiled, heading to the counter. Jack just smiled, and you bent down again- meeting his gaze. “One of my favourites actually” you whispered, a small giggle escaping your lips.

You ring up the book, placing it gently into a paper bag - one you’d drawn little stars and hearts one slow evening.

“There you go,” you said, handing the bag to Jack with both hands like it was treasure. “Make sure you read it with someone really cool, alright?”

“I will!” Jack exclaimed, already hugging his bag to his chest. You glanced up, only to see Aaron watching the entire scene unfolding - something unreadable in his gaze.

You were suddenly very aware of how red your cheeks were. You hoped - prayed he wouldn’t notice. (he in fact had noticed, and thought it was the purest thing he’d ever witnessed)

“Thank you,” Aaron said, eyes filled with gratitude. Your stomach fluttered, and you could feel your smile reaching your ears.

“Oh- of course. It was um- It was really nice meeting you both” You said, trying not to fidget with the small ribbon you had for wrapping up gifts.

He paused for a moment. Then, without breaking eye contact, he spoke again.

“We’ll be back”

You weren’t sure which of them he meant. God, you hoped it was him. That handsome- gentle stranger and his sweet son.

Before they left, you left the counter hurriedly - wanting to say something.

“Bye, um…”

“Aaron” he offered, “Aaron Hotchner”

Since then, they became regulars.

Smiley, bouncy Jack came back wanting the second book of the series and who were you to say no? You showed him everything - chatted with him and wrapped the book in a lovely baby blue paper.

Aaron stood nearby, quiet as always. You exchanged a few words, not many. But each one still left your stomach filled with butterflies and your brain turning into mush.

He still hadn’t asked for your name.

You supposed you could introduce yourself to him, but you couldn’t find the right time. Maybe it was the way you always felt a little too choked up every time he looked at you.

But today, he didn’t bring Jack. Today, he didn’t hover over the kids’ section or pretend to browse books.

Today, he stepped inside the bookstore, finding you on a bean bag, hiding behind a copy of Pride and Prejudice.

It was your favourite book. He noticed that you had a worn out, old copy of it behind the counter and it always intrigued him.

Once again, you didn’t hear the door chime. Or maybe you just pretended not to. You sensed his presence though, like it was a shift in the atmosphere. He was watching you, expression softening as he saw you curled up.

Eventually, he cleared his throat - making you scramble to sit properly and almost drop the book in the process. “Oh- Oh, hi,” you said flustered. “No Jack today?”

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “No, uh- He’s with his aunt Jessica today”

“Thought I’d come on my own”

Your brows furrowed for a second. “Sure- Um- You’re here for a book?”

Aaron’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. “No sweetheart, I’m here for a name”

Your heart stopped for a second.

Sweetheart. He had called you sweetheart. In the most gentle and soothing voice.

Remember the Snoopy dance Nikki did in Dork Diaries? Yeah, that’s one way to describe your current feelings.

He sat on the edge of one of the plush chairs, hands on his knees - gaze gentle but unwavering. “I’ve been coming here for weeks. I think it’s time I stopped calling you ‘her”

You blinked at him, pulse fluttering like a startled bird. “Oh right. You’re right” You chuckled softly. “I’m Y/N. Just Y/N”

“Y/N…” He repeats, as if he were committing it to memory. “Suits you”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. You weren’t the best at taking compliments. It always made you feel… A little uneasy. Maybe a tad unworthy of praise.

And more specifically, you weren’t used to being complimented by men like him. Men who looked like they belonged in black and white films, all clean lines and quiet intensity.

You were about to say something, an awkward comment about bookstore loyalty cards or names - when something completely shifted.

Thunder rumbled outside. Loud.

Your whole body tensed.

Aaron noticed it, and his expression turned from cheeky to concerned. He noticed your fear of storms instantly. His brows furrowed, and he wanted to say something.

But before he could speak, before you could hide the trembling of your fingers and the small whimper that was lodged inside your throat - the lights flickered once…twice.

Then the rain started. Hard, unmoving, and terribly fast.

You backed up towards the counter, trying to seem casual. The fact that your pulse was racing didn’t help.

This wasn’t the time to be absolutely terrified by thunderstorms. In front of the man you liked.

“Are you alright?” Aaron asked, eyes narrowed.

Forcing yourself to nod, you whispered

“Y-Yeah. I’m fine”

A louder crack of thunder cut through the shop, and this time you weren’t able to choke down a whimper. Or the way you flinched.

He took a step forward, slow and careful. Not wanting to startle you. “Y/N…”

But whatever he was about to say?

You didn’t hear it.

Because the lights went out.

[starryeyed-apple]

YAYAYAY im so happy you continued their story!!! Im in love with everything about this and excuse me please because im about to yap

SOBS APPLEBOTTOM!! THE BB GIRLLL! Caleb teaching her how to ride his horse is so sweet 😭reader being nervous is so real DKKDD, the “you’re her boss” and “you’d only wanted Caleb on top of you too” made me laugh sm.

i literally gasped out loud DAD STILL DOESNT KNOW!? Omg I love that added tension and potential conflict HEHEHE

Also I forgot to mention last fic but omg I love seeing Caleb having a family in this au it warms my heart and makes me so emotional 😭😭😭

From sex in his room, to the shower, and even with you bent over the kitchen counter that you ended up scrubbing with bleach because you felt awful about it post orgasm, Caleb has had you folded up in too many ways to count.

Not only is this so fucking hot but omg I LOVE Reader so much!! I adore her personality in this AU she’s so relatable to me and such a cutie (I can’t wait to see her get possessive omg I CHEERED when I saw x possessive reader in the title I LOVE a possessive reader)

Not even when he took you a few times to ride on Applebottom before you left for college.

I would sell an arm and a leg and my left kidney for flashbacks of them before she left town, I love their backstory sm 😭😭

“Are you finished with her yet, C?”

DOES HE LOOK FINISHED? NO! NO HE DOESNT.

Me when I explode Maycee with my mind

“Am I invisible?” you interrupt swiftly, the irritation coursing through your body making it impossible to keep your mouth shut any longer.

YES!! GO GIRL GO!! As somebody who doesn’t get mad often, but gets so irritated that I explode when I do I also feel this reaction deeply.

“Aww, let me guess: you think you’re special?” she scoffs with a mocking grin. “Tell her about our time together Caleb, since it’s so necessary that she stays clued in.”

Yeah your time together that had our name tattooed on his chest 😌 move it along now we’re dancing with our man

“Know that my name was tattooed on his chest while his dick was in your mouth.” You get in her face now, feeling a strong hand on your arm to hold you back.

THEREEE WEE GOOOO!!!!

The smut was so fucking delicious omg riding that cowboy with his hat on YEAAAH 😳😳😳

OH GID THE FUCIING OOLICE NOOOOOOO FIEIEJFJR IM DYING THEY GOT GOT! Omg I can’t stop giggling my poor cowboy cowgirl babiesss they got caught

IM SORRY ITS WHOOOOOOOOO!?!! my soul left my body im levitating MY OTHER MAN IS HERE OH GOD IM LOSING MY SHIT IM ROLLINF AROUND IM SCREAMING

“But flick me again and I’ll fuck you again with him right outside.”

Literally said out loud: he wouldn’t mind (I’m sorry I saw them both and I lost my mind ahem)

But I LOOOVEDD THISSS they are so dear to me, I adore their relationship and I would read an entire novel of them, I’d keep it on my shelf and put in sticky notes and highlight it I just love it so much. Tysm for another part Jay!!!!

Note: Please —Click Here— to read part one if you’d like! I’m finally getting around to giving them a second part, omg. I hope I did it justice. Enjoy, my beautiful baes!

Warning: A woman picks a fight with you over Caleb (she’s not a real threat, dw), you get really possessive over him, car sex, use of ‘angel’ for a nickname

Word Count: 4K

Summary: A night out quickly takes a different turn.

Cowboy!Caleb/PossessiveReader

“C’mon, angel. You got it. Push your thighs in tighter,” Caleb instructs you. “Harder. Good, like that, like I taught you.”

You bite your lip, uncertainty coiling through you as you feel the back and forth motion in your hips. You’ve been at this for what is definitely far too long, but with Caleb, you didn’t mind the time it took. Choosing not to be patient wouldn’t get you anywhere, not when you wanted to succeed so badly.

“I—I’m gonna fall again!” you squeak, your nerves calming just barely when he holds you by your hip, silently reassuring you as Applebottom begins to strut along the even terrain of the rich green grass.

“She can sense your nervousness. That’s why she’s so ready to throw you off,” he chuckles, remaining beside you before patting on the large horse’s side with three quick loving taps. “Confidence is key, alright? Show her who’s the boss.”

“You’re her boss!” you yelp right before she trots in place, her hooves pounding into the ground unforgivingly with whine-like neighing to follow. The typically sweet animal did this every time she wanted to set her boundaries and make it known that she did not want whoever was on her back.

It was understandable. You’d only wanted Caleb on top of you, too.

It’s been a few days since you’ve been staying with him on his parents’ ranch, simply because you wanted to, you could, and he offered—no, he begged you to come over. With your dad being able to take on farm work again without needing help, you told lied to him about how you’d be staying over at a friend’s house for a much deserved break.

He still doesn’t know that the man he strictly told you to keep out, was in your room the morning they returned. You had to explain to Caleb later why you frantically pulled him from your bed and threw his sweatpants at him like you were a teenager sneaking a boy out.

You were able to get away with it because not only is the guest room thankfully on the second floor, but momma called your phone and said they needed you both to come down and help haul their stuff and the hand-me-down farm clothes Grams surprisingly let them take, upstairs.

That was about a month ago and a complete win in your book, despite the near heart attack at first. And now, after the time it took for you to have this privacy, you’ve been delightfully basking in the presence of your beloved cowboy.

Since Caleb’s workaholic mother and father tended to be so busy with other business ventures, they were often out of town a lot and this week was one of those instances you both were more than willing to take advantage of.

It was safe to say that you two have been going at it like you were making up for lost time. From sex in his room, to the shower, and even with you bent over the kitchen counter that you ended up scrubbing with bleach because you felt awful about it post orgasm, Caleb has had you folded up in too many ways to count.

He even asked you to be his girlfriend, to which you declined.

Yes, he had your heart, he’s had and will continue to have your body, but you needed to make sure this wasn’t some glorified honeymoon phase. Everything was and felt perfect right now because of how excited you two were to have each other entirely without fear, limitations, and uncertainty—well, nearly.

Your dad will come around when you tell him, you’re almost positive.

But, waiting a bit would prove to you if this feeling was something that would stick without the memories and nostalgia you share being the anchor to it all.

Besides, you two still have a lot to learn about one another all over again before you outwardly labeled this beauty of a man as your boyfriend. You weren’t lying when you said you loved him, but love didn’t mean you had to rush. It meant that you had all the time in the world together to figure it out.

Right?

He understood your concerns, even if he wished you would’ve told him yes and let him fuck you in celebration. Granted, he still did, but it was with determination—to show you that there was no such thing as a fluke when it came to how he felt about you.

Besides all the mushy feelings though, it’s been immensely freeing with him. Like he promised the morning after he made love to you for the first time, in the early evenings during your stay, he’s been helping you try to learn how to ride a horse before he took you out to buy you one of your own.

No matter how much you failed, it was the reality that Caleb was your helping hand to make your heart dance in your chest.

You whole heartedly blamed your pops for your inability, but it partially on you, too. He tried to teach you when you were younger, but gave up once he realized how scared you’d always be no matter what horse he put you on or in front of you. Despite how badly he wanted you to conquer, he refused to traumatize his little girl further after all the falls and near accidents.

And Caleb was far too young and inexperienced himself at the time to try, so you simply never got the hang of it. Not even when he took you a few times to ride on Applebottom before you left for college.

You were honestly too embarrassed to try asking for any assistance the older you became and add you leaving on top of that, horse riding just became a skill you accepted that you’d never acquire.

Caleb soothed the beautiful steed, rubbing down her nose and scratched below her chin to ease her defiance.

“You wanna call it a day?” he grinned up at you, the warm setting sun making his dewy skin glow.

“Please.”

“No worries, angel. Scoot back.”

You maneuver yourself on the leather saddle to make room for the burly man, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting against him once he sat and grabbed hold of the reigns before making sure you were ready to go. After your confirmation, with a click of his tongue and a soft “go ‘head girl”, you were riding towards his large home with the slightly humid wind wiping across your dampened skin.

“I’m taking you out tonight,” he said the closer you got.

“For what?”

“Because I want us to have some fun.”

“I think we have a lot of that here, don’t you think?”

He laughs, the sound warming you on the inside. “You’re not lyin’, but I wanna take you dancing. Remember the last time we went?”

You flip through your memories like they’re pages on a book, not having any recollection.

“Exactly,” he fills in your silence. “We weren’t even ten years old and couldn’t catch a beat for shit.”

“Caleb, that does not count!” Now you’re the one laughing, hard enough to make you snort a little bit.

“It definitely does!” Slowing Applebottom down until she completely stops beside the wrap around porch, he jumps down first to then help you. When you’re standing in front of him, he cups your face in his hands and kisses your lips tenderly.

“I’m gonna set her up for the night, we’ll head in, get cleaned up, and I want to be back down in my pickup in an hour. You got that, angel?”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, making him smirk.

“Go on.” He plucks his cowboy hat off his head and hits you playfully on the ass with it on your way up the steps. “Get the shower going for us.”

You and Caleb have been on the dance floor for nearly an hour straight, and you couldn’t get enough. With every twirl and the feeling of his body pressed against you alongside all the other patrons having their own fun, you wished this night could go on forever.

In your floral pink knee length summer dress, his strong hands were on your waist as he moved you side to side to the thumping beat that vibrated the walls and floors of the classical country dance bar that’s been around long before the both of you.

Your sexy cowboy was a sight to drool over in his sage green long sleeve shirt that he had pulled up on his strong forearms to display his tattoos and dark blue jeans that showed off some of his impressive physique.

You were wearing his black Cattleman that he slyly placed atop your head in the middle of you swaying to the music. You helplessly giggled when he kissed down your neck and took you by the hand to spin you around to face him.

His skin was slightly flushed and his soft hair a small whirlwind of a mess, but if you asked Caleb what he was feeling—complete and alive were the only adjectives that could come to mind.

Your arms went around his neck with a bright smile to accompany your eagerness as you sang along to the lyrics of a song your momma still loves to blast on her cleaning days. Caleb flashed you that boyish grin that made you swoon when you grew dramatic in your efforts to match the passion of the talented singer’s voice blasting through the speakers.

Then he started to sing with you and for a moment, there was no care in the world about how crazy you both sounded. This was where you had fun and you wouldn’t let anything prevent you from enjoying it to its fullest potential.

That was your intention until a woman walked up to you both as the upbeat song ended and transitioned to something slower. You couldn’t even get close to him again before an airy voice said behind you, “You finished with her yet, C?”

C? Who the hell is she calling C?

You craned your neck to figure out who was emitting the strong aroma of too-much perfume. A pretty and short, long haired brunette looking up at Caleb with very clear fuck-me eyes, proved to be the answer to the mystery.

Her complete disregard for your presence wasn’t missed, either.

“I know your mother raised you to have some respect, Maycee,” Caleb replied sharply, not bothering to look at her.

“What? I waited ‘til the song was over,” she shrugs, moving closer to him and making this weird primal behavior surge within you when her perfectly manicured fingers tried to rest on his shoulder before he shucked her off.

“That was respectful enough, was it not? I just want to talk with you.” Her judgmental eyes look into yours that’s slowly losing the light it had second ago. “Alone.”

“We’ve got nothin’ to talk about. Coming up to me when I’m with my girl is out of line.”

“Nothing to talk about? Your girl?” she spits out in disbelief. “Seems like you’ve made the wrong choice.”

“Am I invisible?” you interrupt swiftly, the irritation coursing through your body making it impossible to keep your mouth shut any longer. The looks were hard to ignore, but the nosiness of others did nothing to put out the flame stoking in your chest.

You face her head on, ready to defend yourself with zero intimidation at her attempt to size you up.

“This has nothing to do with you.”

“The moment you spoke to him made it have every fucking thing to do with me.”

“Aww, let me guess: you think you’re special?” she scoffs with a mocking grin. “Tell her about our time together Caleb, since it’s so necessary that she stays clued in.”

Your body tenses as your jaw ticks. The noticeable reaction makes her smile as if she’s triumphant.

“I’d really rather not embarrass you or ourselves more than you’ve already done yourself, Maycee,” Caleb says through gritted teeth. “That’s not what I want or what I do, but you have a tendency of pushing your fucking luck. You’ve done enough. I suggest you know when to walk away.”

You were hard to rile up—very hard. But Caleb was one of the few people who knew how you could get if that’s where you were brought. It’s one of the reasons he’s trying to deescalate the situation as quickly as possible.

“You’re such an asshole. Her over me—seriously?” She sucks her teeth. “Call me when you come back to your senses. My mouth really misses you.”

Your eyes narrow and you check her before Caleb can try. Your tone drops to make sure that even with the quietness that’s suffocating the already stuffy space, only she can hear you clearly.

“Know that my name was tattooed on his chest while his dick was in your mouth.” You get in her face now, feeling a strong hand on your arm to hold you back.

“I want you to make sure you sit with the fact that every time he got hard, it’s because he thought of me. Even when he was inside of you.”

Maycee’s chest rises and falls, the clear shock and disbelief swirling in her irises.

“Baby, let’s just go,” Caleb calls to you, his grip pressing a little harder to make sure you’re aware that he’s trying to keep you calm.

It’s ridiculous how easily your night has been ruined, and now all the fun is washed out your veins.

Not another word is spoken when you take off his hat and press it roughly to his chest, not caring if he doesn’t catch it. You snatch yourself away from him before you storm out the bar and into the now cool night.

Your anger is misplaced, you know that. But it’s feels impossible to correct with the way it was encompassing your entire being.

Caleb doesn’t waste a moment following you, quickly unlocking his vehicle and opening the door to let you climb inside. Once behind the wheel, he maneuvers the tires over the gravel parking lot before rolling onto the smooth roads, and god is the drive uncomfortable.

“You wanna talk now?” he voices ten minutes in, sighing at your refusal to answer—again.

You told yourself you weren’t jealous of his past, that you didn’t care. And truly, you didn’t.

But the mere thought of Maycee with Caleb in any way, made your blood boil. The way she walked up to him like she was so familiar fueled you with violence.

He was yours, he belongs to you.

“Pull over,” you mumble, making his eyebrow furrow.

“I’m not letting you walk if that’s what you think you’re about to do. I don’t care—”

“Pull. Over,” you repeat slowly.

He does. What other choice does he have when the woman he loves looks ready to set fire to anything in her path that dared to give her a reason?

There’s nothing but long empty rode in front and behind you in the dark night of chirping crickets and twinkling fireflies as he puts the car in park to the side. Caleb looks over at you, the moonlight and rows of illuminated warm street lamps pouring through the windshield giving him the privilege to set eyes on his lady.

“Angel, you know she doesn’t mean anythin’ to me. I know you know.”

“I do.” You turn your body to face him.

“We only hooked up twice, pretty. I don’t want you being upset with me. Tell me what you need me—” Your hand reaching over the center console and the tug on his belt makes his words slow.

“I want you,” you breathe out, your voice shaky and the need to have him overriding anything sensible. “I want you to fuck me, Caleb. I want to erase her from you—erase all of them.”

Pretty,” he coos apologetically. “You’ve already done that. But anything you want. Just let me take us home.”

“No,” you shake your head stubbornly. “Now. I want it now.”

“Fuck…” His cock comes to life at your possessiveness.

He leans in to kiss you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours as he swallows your whimpers and identifies your cravings without more needing to be said. You stay like that for a moment, letting him savor your taste.

When he releases you, he gets out the truck so that he can slide into the black leather seat in the back. The moment he shuts the door and sits, waiting with his legs spread wide, you’re kicking off your shoes and climbing toward him like he’s your reclamation.

The lack of sufficient space isn’t enough to stop you from sitting in his lap and pulling on his hair, grinding your panty clad pussy against the rough material of his jeans. He sucks on your neck, the sweet and tangy taste on your skin only making his balls tighten with need.

You have to see your name that marks him, that gives you ownership of him. Impatiently, you pull the hem of his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side and tracing your fingertips along the mesmerizing ink.

“I’m yours, angel,” he whispers, his hands gripping your hips hungrily.

“Show me,” you beg. You feel down his pecs and toned abs before quickly beginning to undo his belt. The clinks echo in the enclosed space at the same time that he bunches your dress above your waist.

Wrapping your hand around his thickness and pulling him out of his confines, you pump him agonizingly slow in your palm.

“You told me this was my cock,” you say against lips, your heart hammering so fast that you’re not too sure how coherent you sound. “You said both of you were devoted to me.”

Your mouths graze, but never meet. “Give me what’s mine…”

Caleb curses under his breath when you swipe a thumb along his slit and smear his precum around, his hips bucking up with eagerness. “I’ll listen to your every w—word. Sit up on your knees, baby…Let me make it better.”

Bracing one hand on him, you follow his instruction and push out a desperate huff when he roughly tugs your panties to the side after you lift yourself.

You didn’t want a condom. In fact, you’d lose your shit if he even offered one. That’s all you’ve been using since your first time together and right now, you just wanted to feel him without any barriers.

When his bare tip slides into your leaking hole, you press your lips together with a pleased hum.

“They can never have you again,” you cry as he helps lower you down to take every pulsating veiny inch. “Hngh—Yes…I miss you like this…”

“N—Never,” he solidifies through a raspy groan, his dick twitching inside your hot and slick walls when you squeeze him.

“You hear how we sound together?” You get closer as you make your hips rise and steadily fall, the squelching of your connection filling your ears. “Only we could make music so powerful.”

The truck begins to shake the harder you go, your palms pressing against the cushioning behind him so your nails had something to scratch when he fucks into you, knocking the breath out of your pliable body.

His fingers dig in your flesh through your dress, surely bruising you, but you need him to. You need that tinge of pain as a reminder that neither of you are never going anywhere because you’ve already made your mark.

“You—hah—you feel so fucking good, Caleb…” The effortless gliding in your pussy makes white dots spot in your vision and your nipples ache beneath the meddlesome fabric.

“We’ve always been in tune.” He shakily reaches over and grabs his Cattleman, placing it on your disarrayed strands and running his thumb across your lip before his large hand caresses down your neck before grasping one of your breasts over your dress. Your lack of a bra lets him flick a nipple, making a strained whimper fall from your puffy lips.

“Don’t ever take it off again. I’m your cowboy, pretty. Own that.” He loses his train of thought for a moment, being buried so snuggly in your heat.

“Ah, fuck…fuck…M—Make me feel it…”

You nod, leaning further back against the console so the outside streetlights could shine upon where you’re connected. Your lover looks down to watch your cunt greedily spread the sticky fluids up and down his cock with unabashed desire.

“Y—you’re not C…” you mewl tiredly, rotating your hips to grind against him. “You’re my Caleb…Just mine…”

The new motion sends shivers down his spine. “You’re right…That’ll never change. It never has…”

The interior grows foggy and humid, sweat beading down your back and his temples the faster your orgasm approaches. You use your muscles to tighten your cunt around his throbbing length, and each contraction makes him feel more precum spurt out in preparation to claim you from the inside.

“That’sss right…oh, baby, keep going… just like that…W—Wanna fill you up so badly…” He pulls your panties over more to gain complete access, his thumb lazily circling your taunt bundle of nerves and sending shockwaves through you.

“Make you so fuckin’ full of me, pretty—I know you want it.”

He sucks air in through his teeth when your peak hits you so hard and unexpectedly that it has you trying to crawl away from him at the simultaneous moment that his cum rushes inside your shuddering walls.

Your moans are on the precipice of pornographic, but for him, it’s the embodiment of sublimity.

You serenade him with your gentle sounds and wavering tone, letting yourself succumb to the deliriousness like you’ve done many times now. Caleb holds you down to make sure you’re filled to the brim, rubbing along your trembling inner thighs. He keeps you spread open so he can watch how the copious amount of cum has no choice but to spill out of your hole and down cock before reaching his balls and staining his clothes.

“‘M so sorry for what happened,” he speaks softly after giving you the space to catch your breath.

“It’s not your fault,” you mumble, holding his hat so that it’ll stay on your head as you sit up before taking it off. Fear consumes him for a brief moment when you place it on his.

“Remember when I told you no?” Your head tilts, taking his hand and placing it on your cheek to nestle into. “About being your girlfriend?”

“I do.”

“Tonight has shown me that…I think I’m in wayyy too deep to be trying to play it safe.”

He smiles. “A mutual sentiment.”

“Will you do me the honor,” you flash a genuine one as well, adjusting the crooked hat and brushing his hair away from his eyebrows. “and let me be your one and only cowgirl?”

“You never even have to ask, angel. C’mere.”

After you share yet another kiss, he presses a sweeter one to the tip your nose.

“Your dad is going to whoop my ass.”

You laugh, the vibrations making you remember that Caleb is still inside of you.

“He’ll be okay. Momma will hold him back.”

“Thanks, baby,” he rolls his eyes with playful sarcasm. “That means a lot.”

“Whatever he does, I’ll be there to kiss it better.”

“Yeah?” he smirks.

“Mhmmm.”

You don’t know what you were even going to try and say or do next because any and all calmness and sentimentally is gone when you see red and blue light flash along with two curt blares of a police siren.

“Shit!” you panic, flicking Caleb’s forehead when he starts to muffle his laugh.

“Ow!” he whisper shouts.

“Move your ass!”

“I can’t until you do!”

Then a knock at the driver’s window sounds. You would forever be in debt to tinted windows now.

“Play dead,” you suggest lowly.

“You’re a terrible problem solver.”

“Well, I’m not seeing you come up with any bright ideas!”

When what you know is the final polite knock sounds with four hits instead of the initial two, Caleb closes his eyes and lays his head back, the hat falling over his eyes and forehead.

“You’re right,” he says, his words muffled. “Play dead.”

“You’re all worried about my dad when me and this police officer is getting ready to kick your ass.”

“Can’t. I’m already dead.”

“Caleb!”

“Mr. Xia?” calls a male voice.

“Who the hell..?”

“Oh,” he huffs in relief. “It’s just Xavier.”

“From high school!?” you ask, completely stunned.

He nods. “He moved back a year after you left. Nothing to worry about. We’re cool.”

“You’re shirtless and still in me!”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t be embarrassed.”

You pluck his forehead once more. “I can’t stand you!”

He rubs his forehead, then pulls you into him. “I’m in love with you too, angel. But flick me again and I’ll fuck you again with him right outside.”

“Just do something!” you pout, your face getting heated at the thought.

Glad to have made you flustered, he smiles. “Anything for you.”

A/N: I felt like creating a scenario like this felt kinda realistic for them because I definitely believe people would fight over a man like Caleb—especially if he sexes you as good as he looks LOLLLL!!!! I didn’t think it would’ve just been sunshine and rainbows initially in a small town where Caleb has been around the block…I could’ve just done a big time skip to their happily ever after, but where’s the fun in that?!?! But I think I’ve unintentionally started another series, DAMNIT! JAYLA, PLS PUT THE PHONE DOWN!!!!

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Creds to @/saradika, @/saradika-graphics, and @/bbyg4rlhelps for the dividers!

[rafeslvbug]

CHAPTER 5 - maybank!reader series

“you okay?”

a sincere voice reaching out through the dark. cutting your silent sobs.

and he was there. the picture of concern, blinking confused when you turned your face.

“you’re not okay,” rafe points out, eyes drifting over your tear-stained face. he steps closer. you step back.

“no, shit, sorry i am,” you wipe away your tears, choking back your unsteady voice.

“right, cuz you weren’t just crying your eyes out,” he grumbles, hand rubbing his head. he seems tense while you’re a mess. you’re unsure if he’s uncomfortable being here, you’d assume he is.

“it wasn’t–“ you sigh. wind whips across your face, pulling back tears streaming down your cheeks.

“do you need help?” rafe asks, eyes fixing on the thin line of blood from your wrist.

you can’t stop him when he moves forward.

grabs your wrist.

jaw tightening.

“what happened?”

“nothing.”

lie.

“bullshit.”

of course.

“i fell over. i’m a klutz, i tripped,” you lie again, them rolling out so fast he can’t intervene until it’s hanging in the air between you.

he doesn’t believe it either.

“stop lying,” he ordered, though you never took those much seriously. not from him, anyways.

“i’m not. remember when i fell and spilt your drink over you at the club?”

“y/n…” he warns. low. daring you to try your luck more.

“i tripped rafe,” you reiterate, words firm. it’s evident you’re lying, now. but you don’t care. you just need him to stop prying. stop trying to delve into what he has no business looking into.

his thumb swipes off the blood, before letting your wrist fall back to your side. eyes darting to the car, he looks it over, then back at you. “what’re you doin’ out here?”

“my car broke down..” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest, chewing on your lip.

you can’t pinpoint the look that flashes over his face. it’s obscure, disfigured in the manner all his looks are– he doesn’t want you to truly see what he thinks, what he feels. silence thrums like a dead heartbeat between you two before rafe finally asks, “i’ll give you a lift, where’re you goin’?” you open your mouth to protest, say you’ll do it yourself. you shouldn’t be around him, not now, or ever. if jj saw you both? rafe’s range rover pulling up infront of the chateau? hell, he’d smash the windows in. “don’t even. don’t say whatever shit you’re gonna say, wasn’t an offer, tell me where you’re going,” rafe grumbles, beginning to his car, stopping briefly to usher you along with him.

“what about my car?” you ask, dragging your feet forwards to him.

turning back to look at the broke down thing, rafe sighs, “i’ll deal with it tomorrow, i know a guy who can take care of it.”

“it just needs gas,” you tell him, stepping back when the passenger door swings open in front of you.

“no, that’s broken. making weird noises.” the car door slams shut. you’re forced to sit quietly until he’s in the car too.

“i can’t afford your guy,” you mumble, staring down at your hands while rafe drives smoothly along the roads. you’ve never been in a car this fancy, automated controls, big screen in the front, sleek and screaming expensive.

“don’t worry ‘bout it,” he answered, fingers drumming against the wheel.

“no– rafe–“

“i said, don’t worry about it.” his tone is firm. the room for argument almost suffocating. so you just accept it. he’ll probably forget in the morning, you hope he does.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616 @csturnioloswifey @silkylovey @supasolaa @octoberbxbyy @rafeobx @jamesbeaufortismylife @vanessa-rafesgirl @bambigirl10 @f4sh10n-m4v3n @amelialovesrafe @letstryagaintomorrow @athenabarnes @sapphichotmess @samwinchesterisawhore @arigoldsblog

[rileygorski]

becca king is an observant queen especially to those she loves and while she loves her sister, she’s never been a fan of her taste in men.

there was david, her first boyfriend in college. and while mel was madly in love, becca could see right through the cracks—the man was always late (something she knew mel hated but for some reason always gave an excuse for), he was messy when he stayed over (which, for some reason, included moving her belongings, too). he also treated her like a child most of the time, never letting her cook even though she’s damn good at it. but becca bit her tongue and her cheek because so long as her sister was happy, so was she. after all, their parents passed six months ago and the light was slowly returning to mel’s face.

but her happiness doesn’t last long, two years to the date, and she finds mel in her bedroom wearing the black dress she was supposed to wear for the anniversary dinner, crying in the dark.

becca doesn’t ask, doesn’t say a word and climbs into bed with her. she lets mel cry in her arms and watches as she falls asleep, mascara running down her face. it’s only then does she check mel’s phone to find a chain of messages saying the relationship had ‘run it’s course.’

becca king writes a very strongly worded text and sends it to the man, who only responds with a ‘k’. that asshole.

when her second boyfriend comes around during her 2nd year of med school, gerald, she eyes him like a hawk. he treats becca 10x better than david ever did which she’s grateful for but there’s something off in the three months they’ve been dating. they’re watching the disney movie ‘up’ when she notices it. mel’s a sobbing wreck five minutes in and he’s staring at the screen as if there’s nothing wrong. no comforting touch, no sweet whispers. she’s sure he’s checked his phone twice. the man is completely devoid of human emotion. sweet mel who feels things too intensely sometimes and a man who feels nothing would never work, she thinks. and of course, she’s right. mel breaks up with him after he tells her he loves her and she’s kinda proud about it.

there were a couple other dates, a couple other one month flings but nothing stuck. so her sister devotes her time to prepping for her new job and spending time with becca because—“your happiness is all i need. i’m happy if you are.”

and then frank langdon enters into her life. mel has talked about how everyone was so kind on her first day but she talks about dr. langdon the most. how he’s a great teacher who really pays attention even to the emotional needs of his trainees. mel’s never rambled this much about another person in a long time and becca thinks it could be something good. but the next day mel comes home upset cause “langdon never said goodbye.’ and the urge to start a strongly worded letter intensifies.

she never sends it, instead he enters mel’s life again ten months later, and mel is so damn happy. she’s never seen her this happy since—she can’t even remember. so she lets mel tell her stories about the cases they worked on together all with a massive smile on her face. mel tells her langdon is going through some stuff but as his friend, she wants to help. it’s been a while since her sister has focused her attention on anyone other than her, so becca is more than supportive.

he, quite literally, enters their lives two months later, luggage in tow and dog in a carrier. frank langdon stays the night on their pull out—and for three months after that.

frank makes them breakfast, but sometimes he also lets becca make breakfast—swears her eggs are some of the best he’s ever had. he organizes his shoes at the front door next to theirs and leaves his keys on the hook next to mel’s. they take his dog out for walks every morning at 8AM when he doesn’t work. sometimes his kids will join so they all have a picnic when the whether is nice. she likes frank’s kids—nice, polite and very respectful of her things. they make friendship bracelets and do crosswords together. sometimes they even help her bake cookies and hand them out to her friends at the center.

sometime later, he starts calling mel ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ and anything other than her name. mel, whose never been one for pet names even in her longterm relationship—never corrects him. instead she blushes a little hard. smiles a little too wide and answers him every fucking time.

mel insists their still friends when becca teases her about it, nothing more. becca knows just friends don’t look at each other the way they do.

mel and frank work the morning shift, but on one of her days off, mel confides in her about something. tells her that frank will have to leave at some point and they shouldn’t get too attatched. becca wonders if maybe mel was warning herself more than anything else.

still, becca plans for that day. one night, after mel’s come home from a day shift and langdon has the day off, they’re on the couch watching little women (becca’s favorite and one frank’s never seen) when mel falls asleep, head on a pillow in frank’s lap.

“hey, langdon.” she says softly, turning to him. “thanks for making my sister happy.”

he looks up at her with an ‘o’ shaped mouth. blue eyes intensified by the tv lighting. his voice soft, and fingers combing through blonde locks. there’s a dopey grin forming at his face that she’s sure he doesn’t know about. “she makes me happy, too, probably more than she knows.”

becca, unlike her sister, has always been blunt and straightforward. “so why haven’t you kissed her yet?”

and langdon laughs like he’s finally glad someone else notices the question he asks himself at least twice a day. “i don’t..know.” he tells her earnestly

“that’s a dumb reason.” becca replies back almost instantly. laurie is confessing to jo on screen when she says, “don’t keep her waiting—you know she worries.”

mel fusses, and frank leans down to kiss her forehead. it’s close enough, she supposes.

the next morning frank isn’t on the couch but she hears him leave mel’s room at half past 10AM while she’s in the middle of breakfast. his shirt is off, left with just his sweats from the night before. she finds it later on mel, when she walks into the kitchen a couple minutes after him, hair disheveled. becca shoots him a thumbs up when mel has her back turned.

she hears them discuss rent and bills. the calendar mel has at the front door now includes his schedule as well. he’s added as one of people approved to pick becca up at the center. and when mel cries over rewatching ‘up’, he holds her hand, sheds a few tears with her and wipes her tears when it’s all over.

they kiss—a lot. forehead kisses or kisses when one of them leaves for more than five minutes and mel smiles after every single one of them. she’ll look into it later, but she’s convinced kisses have healing properties because mel has never looked so happy, so healthy, so free. it’s all she’s ever wanted.

“i’m glad frank’s the one you found to kiss.” she tells her one night when frank is on the night shift. they’re giggling in her bed like they’re seven again and the world treated them with with a little more kindness. maybe it’s making it’s amends now.

“me too, becca.” and she smirks at her, “thank you. it never would’ve happened without you. you’re the best sister.”

“tell me something i don’t know.” becca quips.

mel’s phone lights up in the dark room, and she doesn’t have to know who it is, her smile gives it away.

she’s glad she doesn’t have to send anymore long text messages.

when he does finally move, they go with him to a brand new condo with three rooms. the couch remains only to be used for movie nights or family time or when another guest decides they want to crash for the night (most of the time it’s trinity needing a break from whitaker and sometimes, it’s whitaker, thanking them for their hospitality while trinity has a friend over for the night)

or, one night, two years into this whole thing.

frank sits becca down on the same couch. he doesn’t even finish a sentence and doesn’t even get to ask her what she thinks of his plan, before becca is jumping on him to pull him into a hug.

“woah, becs, the ring!” he cautions, closing the velvet box shut. when he feels it’s safe, his arms hug her just a little tighter. he can feel the tears on his neck, so he doesn’t pull away until she does.

[chrisstvrns]

⌞passenger princess: c.s.⌝⸝⸝

now playing: PASSENGER PRINCESS: nessa barrett

warnings: fingering, public-ish, car setting, no actual sex, pet names, dirty talk, slight overstimulation, soft!dom!chris, praise kink, slight possessiveness.

word count: 845

aftercare writing marathon

the hum of the car filled the silence between the two of you, broken only by the occasional flick of chris’s turn signal and the soft bass of whatever playlist he had on shuffle. your legs were curled up in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands as you stared out at the highway lights melting into the night.

chris glanced over, one hand steady on the wheel. “you good?”

you nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “yeah. just feels nice. being here with you.”

he didn’t say anything at first, he just reached over, rested his hand on your knee for a second, like a quiet “i’m glad you’re here too.”

he rubs your thigh, his hand slowly inching closer to your clothed cunt. 

“chris” you gasp as soon as his fingers press into your covered clit. “you’re driving.” 

“ill pull over.” he murmurs, tapping your thigh. a silent way of telling you to strip off your sweatpants. 

as soon as you lift your hips ans shimmy them down to your knees, he responds with pulling your lacy pink panties to the side, shoving two fingers inside of you, causing you to moan in response. 

his eyes were still glued on the road as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your sopping wet pussy, your legs already shaking.

you clenched around his fingers, your hand flying to grip the edge of the seat, the tension winding tight in your stomach. your breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open again at the sound of his voice.

“eyes on me,” chris murmured, tone low but firm. 

he finally pulled off onto the shoulder, engine still humming beneath the both of you, headlights casting long shadows across the empty road. the car idled quietly, the world outside a blur of motionless trees and starlit sky, but inside, it was just the two of you. just this heat curling between you.

he turned to face you fully, finally giving you his full attention.

“c’mere,” he said, voice softer now. “want to see that pretty face while you fall apart.”

his lips brushed against your jaw, your neck, featherlight kisses that contrasted the steady rhythm of his fingers still working you open. you whimpered, thighs trembling, hoodie sleeves bunched up around your wrists as you clung to the fabric like a lifeline.

“you’re unreal,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. “mine.” 

your breath stuttered at the possessiveness in his voice, the word mine echoing in your chest, tangling with the thrum of desire already coursing through you.

“chris-” it came out barely above a whisper, broken and desperate, and that was all it took to make him smirk against your throat.

“yeah, baby?” he cooed, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “you close?”

you nodded frantically, hips jerking toward his hand without thinking, chasing the friction he gave so generously. he fucked you slow with his fingers, curling them just right, thumb now working tight circles over your clit with precision that made you dizzy.

“i know,” he murmured, nipping at your jaw. “been watching you squirm since we got in the car. couldn’t stop thinking about how wet you’d be for me.”

your back arched, a low moan catching in your throat. he grabbed your jaw with his free hand, forcing your eyes to meet his, pupils blown and lips slick from kissing every inch of your skin he could reach.

“keep looking at me,” he said again, almost reverent this time.

you tried, you really did, but the pressure in your stomach snapped before you could even warn him. your legs trembled, a whimper escaping your lips as you came hard on his fingers, clenching tight and gasping out his name like a prayer.

he groaned, watching your face with something between pride and hunger. “fuck, that’s it. so fucking pretty when you fall apart for me.”

his fingers slowed, easing you through it, soft strokes over your clit until you flinched from the overstimulation. he finally pulled back, lifting his hand between you and sucking his fingers into his mouth, moaning low at your taste.

you blinked at him, dazed and wrecked and still trying to remember how to breathe.

“you good?” he asked, echoing his question from earlier, but this time with a knowing smirk.

you nodded, cheeks flushed and lips parted. “yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “just... holy shit.”

he chuckled, leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a contrast to the filth of what had just happened. “you deserve to be spoiled,” he murmured. “my baby. my passenger princess, remember?”

you laughed weakly, curling into him as best you could in the cramped space of the car. outside, the world remained still, headlights painting golden arcs across the trees, but in the car, everything pulsed with heat, with the imprint of his hands and the echo of your moans.

and chris? he was already planning what he’d do to you once you got back home.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

aurora's notes: 5/15!!! this song is nearly a year old im gonna be sick

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[sisyphusrequiem]

An additional thing because my brain won’t stop turning, Alien Stage is detailing the fact love exists far more complicated than we typically see in media. People often love each other in different amounts. Mizi loved Sua dearly, and saw her as the centre of her world, but Sua loved Mizi like sustenance. Loved her to the point that she’d sooner die than live without her. Mizi didn’t. Mizi loved her, and would possibly die for her, but she could see a life beyond her. Mizi let Sua commit her sacrifice because she knew it was a mercy, that dying would just kill both of them in the end, that this was what Sua preferred as an outcome. In the line ‘Maybe I just wasn’t as desperate for her’ Mizi is directly talking about the fact that she wasn’t as obsessed to the point of ruin towards Sua. She details in this dialogue how she knew the entire time, knew Sua was going to kill herself, sacrifice herself, die so she wouldn’t have to inevitably do it herself upon seeing her lover's end, but she’d seen the look in Sua’s eyes. Seen devastation at the idea of Mizi’s death, seen her internal world on the verge of collapse, seen that to love her is to let her die. Mizi loved with the passion of a burning star, and yes, with parts of her guardians own toxic love, but Sua loved with blind devotion, loved with obsession, loved with need. She loved enough to die, and Mizi loved enough to live.

Hyuna’s final message being ‘live with love’ and Mizi’s final message being ‘love can’t exist here.’ Hyuna who simply escaped and kept running to try and find a freedom that was impossible. Vulnerability and innocence not existing, love that can only ever exist through codependency, through clinging to each other like virtues, through worship until they’re unrecognisable. Love until it isn’t anymore, love until it’s just something that lets you hold on a little longer. Humans are the root of all this pain, we’re creatures who can’t seem to love without exploiting. They aren’t able to love just for the sake of it, for the joy of another, there’s always a toxicity that’s grows in the roots of it because innocence cannot be afforded in a world that forces them to look no further than the confines of a box. They are not taught to understand their own emotions so they will rip out the hearts of others just to study how it works. I will never recover from this show. I want to make art but nothing will ever live up to the masterpieces already existent in the very videos. I’m going to think about this for the rest of my life.

[xoxochb]

⸻ stuffed plushies 🧺⋆˚࿔

pairing: jason grace x plushie lover! reader 💿 ‧₊˚ — everything I want by beabadoobee <33

it was the first time you’ve ever brought a boy into your cabin, let alone your boyfriend.

your relationship was still fairly fresh, though, not any more than a month ago had jason grace confessed his life to you with a bouquet of pink tulips and cheeks to match that same color.

and this time that you had been dating was a blissful as ever. jason was undeniably the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for. how sweet and respectful he was.

but this didn’t exempt you of the worries when he would be sleeping over at your cabin for the first time. not only was he not allowed to do so but you also had an abundance of plushies sitting on your bed that you avidly slept with every night.

it was silly, really. because jason was the nicest person you knew so even if he thought it was utterly ridiculous that you still slept with stuffies he wouldn’t say it out loud.

you toy around with the ear of your pink bunny plush. it sits on your lap contently as you talk on and on about your current read. it was a book both you and jason mutually read at the same time to enjoy stimulating conversations about once finished. and to say you were stimulated was an understatement.

unbeknownst to you, as you ramble, jason watches fondly as you hold your stuffed animal with such care as if it was an infant. it was endearing. the first thing he had noticed upon entering your cabin was how many of them you had. and all kinds of things too.

animals, sea creatures, foods, fantastical creatures, possibly anything you could never think of, really— and you had tons of them.

his bright blue eyes find themselves dropping to the bunny on your lap more often than he’d care to admit. and as much as he’d love to make eye contact while you talk and talk and talk, he couldn’t help but smile at your love for inanimate plushies.

“… I thought it was really funny when he came into her room through the fireplace. it was both genius and creepy. but he makes it work. and I think—” you pause, noticing jason was not looking at you but your bunny instead. “jase.”

his eyes meet yours quickly with a bashful look. “hmm?”

“were you listening?” subconsciously, you clutch your bunny closer to your belly. was he silently judging you? oh gods, what if he thinks you’re totally weird! what if he breaks up with you because you still sleep with children’s toys!

“of course. you were talking about the fireplace scene.”

you furrow your brows, remaining awfully silent. “oh.”

jason inhales, dropping his gaze to your bunny once again. “is that one your favorite?”

oh no. he hates you. he so thinks you’re a mega weirdo!!

“yes…”

he nods attentively. “do you have a yellow one?”

biting your lip, you reach behind you and hand him your yellow bunny. he smiles, holding it up.

“this one is my favorite.”

“how come?”

he shrugs, setting it on his lap similar to you. “I like yellow.”

“you can… have it if you want.” your hands go back to the long pink ears, fiddling. “the bunny, i mean.”

“really?!” jason’s face lights up like an excited puppy. you supposed he might’ve had a tail wagging even.

“sure.”

“thank you!” he reaches over and presses a kiss to your warm cheek swiftly.

you pull your knees up to your chest, yet ever so cautious of your bunny. “you don’t think it’s… weird? that I still collect them?”

“of course not.” jason intertwines one of your hands with his, rubbing your knuckles. “I think it’s nice. that you’re passionate about something.”

“really?”

“yes really.”

a smile forms on your lips. “thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“you’re welcome.” he returns your expression. “now, you were saying about the fireplace?”

— request here !!

[societyfolklore]

What’s This Do?

Title: What’s This Do?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve volunteered to tidy up the bedroom while you were in the shower. What he found in your nightstand drawer left him blushing... and more than a little intrigued.

Word Count:  3.3k

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Modern tech confusion, toy discovery, flustered Steve, curious Steve, teasing, toy play, dominant Steve, possessive sex, unprotected sex, established relationship, slight size kink, aftercare

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for Spring Bingo Square: A1- Steve and Modern Technology – Yay got them all done!!! Card Number: AAS001 The water had still been running, the faint sound of it echoing from the bathroom, when Steve crouched by the bed. He ran a hand over the comforter, smoothing it automatically, his eyes catching on the bottom drawer that stuck out just slightly. You always teased him for being a little obsessive about tidiness, about how he couldn't walk past a crooked frame or an unmade bed without fixing it. Today, though, he'd wanted to be helpful. You'd had a long week, and if organizing the bedroom gave you one less thing to stress about, then so be it.

He tugged gently at the drawer, assuming a stubborn sock or hoodie was to blame for the gap. But the moment it slid open, his entire body stilled.

What greeted him wasn’t laundry. It was a collection of sleek shapes, soft silicone, and polished curves. He blinked. Once. Twice. The colors ranged from soft pastels to bold black, and each one looked more alien than the last. There was something with little bunny ears. Something with a looped handle. Something that looked like it might require a license. Something tiny and bullet-shaped. Something else that looked like a wand from a sci-fi movie.

And then the remote, one he definitely didn't recognize. The little screen flickered to life when he nudged it by accident, and he nearly dropped it.

Steve closed the drawer on instinct. His jaw flexed. Then he opened it again.

"...Oh. Oh- OH."

He couldn’t stop staring.

His face flushed scarlet. His ears, too. He shifted on his knees and scratched the back of his neck like it was the 1940s and someone had just flashed a smile at him. He was stammering softly to himself, still half-frozen, when you stepped out of the ensuite wrapped in a towel, already smiling until you saw the look on his face.

"Steve?"

"I- uh. I wasn’t snooping, I swear. The drawer wasn’t shutting right and I just- " He gestured helplessly toward it, cheeks burning. "I didn’t expect that."

You padded across the carpet, water still beading on your skin. "What are you tal- Oh."

Steve cleared his throat. “They’re... yours?”

You laughed, finding his bashfulness adorable. “Who else would they belong to?”

He didn’t laugh back. His brow furrowed, and the crease between his brows deepened as something more complicated passed behind his eyes, an old instinct to blush, to look away, warring with the part of him that needed to understand. “You use them when I’m not around?” he asked, voice low. It wasn’t just curiosity, it was something closer to awe. “Did you ever… think about me when you did?”

"Who else would I be thinking about?"  You offered shrugging slightly.

He sat back on the edge of the bed, as if needing space to wrap his head around it. Of course he’d known people did this. Even back in his time, people had ‘aids’….though they were clunky, noisy things you didn’t talk about. But this… this was something else. A drawer full of pleasure, all tucked away like a secret. You, arching under your own touch, moaning into a pillow while something artificial pulsed between your legs. His brain short-circuited.

He looked at you, really looked, and the images came fast. You, flushed and panting, back arched as you chased your own release. Did you touch yourself slow? Did you tease yourself the way he liked to? Did you cry out his name, or bite your lip to keep quiet? The thought should have made him awkward, uneasy.

Instead, it made something in his chest pull tight. Something possessive. Something raw. And lower; something stirred in his gut, thick and demanding. His cock twitched in his jeans before he even realized it, a warm flush spreading beneath his skin as arousal crept in uninvited and overwhelming.

The idea of you like that; legs spread, eyes shut, fingers digging into the sheets as you came all over something smooth and buzzing- it struck him deep. He imagined the way your thighs would shake. How pretty your mouth would look gasping for air. How red your chest got when you were close. All of it, happening in secret, just for you.

He shifted slightly where he sat, suddenly very aware of the growing pressure building beneath his zipper. The heat, the need, it was immediate and sharp, blooming through him like a live wire.

He cleared his throat again, rougher this time. "I guess I just... I didn’t think you needed something like that. Not when you had me."

You stepped closer, eyes soft. One hand still holding your towel while the other ran a damp hand over his arm and shoulder trying to help. “It’s not about needing, Steve. It’s about exploring. Playing. Sometimes I just miss you too much.”

That did it. That broke him. The idea that you’d used those things not instead of him but because you craved what only he gave you? That you thought about him the whole time?

He nodded, slow. Processing. Adjusting. And then his jaw clenched as something behind his eyes shifted entirely.

"Get on the bed." 

This was not how you were expecting your morning to go. What started as Steve curiously poking through your nightstand while you were wrapped in a towel had become a full-on audit. His questions came in quick succession- what’s this one for? How does this part work? Do you use it like this, or like this? He examined each item like it was a new kind of weapon, like understanding it meant understanding you.

And the more he asked, the more his voice dipped. The more his fingers lingered. He kept circling back to a smaller one with a smooth curve and soft lilac finish, the one you'd once offhandedly mentioned was your 'easy go-to.' His thumb hovered over the button like he was waiting for permission.

When it whirred to life, the quiet hum filled the room like a promise. He didn’t speak right away, just met your eyes with something heavy and warm and unbearably focused.

“Lay back” he said again, and this time you moved.

You settled back on the pillows, towel still clutched loosely to your chest until Steve reached out, thumb brushing your knuckles as he gently peeled it open. It pooled around your hips, baring your flushed skin to the morning light and his increasingly ragged breathing.

“Spread your legs for me.”

You did, already slick from the teasing, from the talk, from the look in his eyes.

He climbed up beside you, one knee on the mattress, toy still buzzing quietly in his hand. His other hand stroked up your thigh as he looked down at you; hungry, reverent, almost awestruck.

Then he held it to your clit.

Your back arched at the first contact, heat sparking sharp and sudden. He kept it light, tracing slow circles, studying every flutter of your lashes and every sharp inhale.

“Talk to me,” he said, voice low and taut. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s- ” You swallowed hard. “It’s good. It’s soft at first, but it... It- Steve." 

His lips twitched at the corners. Not smug just focused.

“What about when I do this?” he asked, turning the toy slightly and pressing in more firmly. Your breath hitched.

You moaned. “It’s- god- it’s right there when you angle it like that.”

He kissed your shoulder, then dragged the toy slowly down to your entrance, pausing to brush the slickness there, his breath catching at just how wet you already were.

“And when I push it inside?” he asked, voice thicker now, fingers trembling just slightly as he teased your opening, circling with the head of the toy and watching the way your hips twitched with anticipation.

You gasped as he eased it in. The toy slid in slowly, the pressure a stretch at first, not quite like his cock, but enough to make your toes curl. The soft silicone dragged against your inner walls, and your thighs instinctively fell wider open as you exhaled a shaky moan.

“Ah...” you managed, blinking hard, lips parted, voice catching on a breathy moan. “Snug. It stretches just right. Fuck- it feels so fucking good, Steve. Hits just the right place.”

He adjusted the angle slightly, pressing in deeper, eyes locked on your cunt as it took the toy. “Here?” he asked, voice almost hoarse. “That spot?”

You cried out in response, hands fisting in the sheets.

Steve’s breathing was hard now, ragged. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding it open as he moved the toy in slow, deliberate strokes, the base grinding against your clit every time he pushed in.

“Look at you,” he murmured, completely transfixed. “Taking it so well. Fuck, you’re beautiful like this.”

And then, more quietly, almost to himself: “Can’t believe I wasn’t here for this before. Watching you fall apart like this... should’ve always been me.”

Your answer came in a moan that was all the confirmation he needed.

He learned fast. Too fast. He adjusted the angle, the speed, the rhythm. Studying every twitch, every gasp. His mouth hovered close, whispering encouragement against your cheek, “There we go. That’s it, baby. You feel that?”

Your fingers clutched at the sheets and towel under you, hips straining against his grip. Your back arched as the sensation built and built, Steve murmuring praise with every moan he pulled from your lips. “You’re so wet like this. All from me.”

He was fascinated, utterly focused, and beneath the curiosity, there was something darker simmering in his voice. The way he kept his hand steady when your hips bucked, the smug little smirk when you gasped his name, the way his other hand slid up to hold your trembling thigh down. 

“Did you use it like this?” he asked roughly suddenly stilling the toy inside you, pushed all the way in then just rocked it slightly back in forth in shallow thrust “Or did you just let it sit there and pulse till it drove you wild?”

You could barely speak. Could only moan something close to his name. Your thighs were slick and shaking. He held the toy perfectly still, just for a second, and the sudden stillness made your whole body flinch.

“Oh, you like that,” he murmured, almost to himself. “All wound up with nowhere to go. You going to cum sweetheart?" 

You whimpered his name, your legs trembling as you tried to hold on, but Steve didn’t let up. Not until he was ready. Not until you were teetering.

Then, finally: “Let go,” he breathed and you shattered.

You came with a strangled noise, your whole body quaking. Steve caught you through it, his hand steady on your thigh, the toy still buzzing softly as you trembled beneath him. He watched your face like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. That look of overwhelmed bliss, of coming undone under his touch. And it did something to him.

He turned the toy off but didn’t move right away. Just knelt there, staring at you, jaw clenched and chest rising like he’d just run a race.

When you finally opened your eyes, breath catching in your throat, he was staring down at you, dark-eyed and completely undone.

His jaw tightened as he looked at you, flushed and trembling, still twitching from aftershocks. His arousal was taking over, his cock straining hard against the seam of his pants, the pressure almost painful now. The idea of you falling apart under something fake suddenly wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Not when he was right here.

He reached between your legs again- Slowly. Gently. The soft silicone slipped from your body with a wet sound that made both of you gasp, and Steve held it in his hand for a beat, watching the way your slick coated the surface. Then he set it aside with careful reverence, as if it no longer had a place in what came next.

His eyes were molten when they met yours again.

“Ready for the real thing, sweetheart?” he muttered, voice rough and low, hands working his belt open with shaking urgency. “Everything those toys can’t be.”

You were still reeling, floating somewhere between bliss and haze. Your body was soft and pliant, chest rising in slow, shallow breaths, skin flushed and damp with sweat. You nodded before you even realized you had, too dreamy to protest, too sensitive to think, your thighs still trembling from the aftershocks he’d pulled from you. You wanted him- needed him- but couldn’t find the words.

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing yours, breath hot and ragged. His mouth hard against yours, his body pressed hot and heavy to your skin his clothes stripping away. The kiss was messy and hungry, all teeth and tongue and pent-up need. You barely had time to catch your breath before his tip was nudging against your entrance, broad and hot and real. You gasped as he pushed in, slow, steady, and unrelenting. Your slick heat parted for him, your walls stretching around the thick length of him, inch by inch.

It was overwhelming. The stretch was deeper than the toy, firmer, hotter. Alive. You moaned into his mouth as he sank deeper, your body welcoming him in a way that felt instinctive, necessary. He moved with maddening control, giving you time to feel every inch.

“Fuck,” he gritted out against your neck, voice wrecked. “You’re so tight. So warm. Nothing- nothing feels like this.”

He bottomed out with a groan, hips flush to yours, your body trembling from how full you felt. He pressed so deep you swore you could feel him everywhere, against places no toy ever reached, places that belonged to him alone.

He didn’t ease into it. He didn’t give you time to adjust. He just pulled back and snapped his hips forward, sharp and deep, pulling a gasp from your throat as his cock drove in with purpose. You could feel him in every nerve ending, thick and hot and overwhelming. Each stroke landed with a force that bordered on frantic, like he needed to carve himself into your memory, mark you from the inside out. No one else had ever reached you like this, so deep it made your spine arch, so consuming it blurred the edge of pleasure and surrender. 

Every thrust was brutal, deliberate. Skin slapping against skin. The way he moved was unrelenting, his hips driving forward in punishing, rhythmic snaps that sent the bed creaking beneath you, headboard knocking faintly against the wall. Your body rocked with the rhythm, helpless beneath the power of him.

"Fuck- look at you," he growled, pushing himself up to sit back on his knees, dragging your hips with him. He gripped your thighs and spread you wider, watching the way you fluttered around him, watching his cock disappear into you with every demanding thrust. His eyes were locked on the place where your bodies met, mouth parted in awe.

"Look at that" he rasped. "Better than any toy could ever fuck you."

You arched beneath him, back bowing off the bed, chasing the pressure, the stretch, the burn. Each time he bottomed out it punched a sound from your lungs; raw, high, desperate. You felt wrecked and worshipped, your whole body trembling from the intensity.

"You're mine," he bit out again, thrusting harder. "Say it. Let me hear you say it."

And even if you hadn't wanted to, even if your mind wasn’t lost in bliss, you still would’ve said it. Because it was true. "I'm yours, Steve."

His eyes burned. "Tell me you need me."

Your answer came on a gasp, voice high and shivering as he thrust again, hard, deep, tilting his hips just right to press into everything inside you that could ache. “I need you. God, I need you, Steve. Don’t stop.”

He leaned back over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other gripping your hip, driving into you with relentless focus. You were already close again- so close- from the angle alone, the way his cock rubbed that sweet spot inside you, deeper than anything else ever had.

“You feel that?” he growled. “"This is what you’ve been aching for, isn’t it? Not buzzing plastic- me. Deep and fucking real.”

Your whole body bowed beneath him, thighs shaking, vision blurring as your climax began to build again, fast and hard and impossible to outrun. You weren’t going to argue. You weren’t going to point out that this wasn’t a conversation about competition. Not when you could barely think past the overwhelming sensation of him inside you, the rhythm of his hips slamming into yours with unrelenting power, the thick slide of his cock stroking every swollen, aching spot inside you with ruthless precision.

All you could do was hold on, whimper his name, and take everything he gave you as your orgasm coiled tighter, relentless and sharp, pulling you toward the edge with every powerful thrust. Your cries turned breathless, your body locking up as the pleasure surged white-hot through your core.

You came hard- like a dam bursting, the flood of sensation blinding, shuddering through every inch of you. It ripped through your core, electric and unstoppable, leaving you gasping, chest arched and nerves alight as if every breath was caught between sob and scream. Your whole body arched beneath him, heels digging into the mattress. Your cunt fluttered and clenched in sharp, rippling waves around his cock as the orgasm took you. You could feel every nerve-ending fire as your walls milked him, desperate to keep him buried deep, to draw him even closer as the wave crested and broke. You sobbed his name, every nerve ending lit up as he fucked you through it.

Steve groaned deep in his chest, hips stuttering at the feel of you pulsing around him. "Fuck, baby- I'm right there. I’m- "

His pace broke, hips jerking forward in ragged, uneven bursts as his climax overtook him. Each snap of his body was urgent, uncontrolled, like instinct had taken over, driven purely by the overwhelming need to finish deep inside you. With a final deep drive, he spilled inside you, his cock twitching as he came hard, heat flooding you as he panted against your neck. His muscles tensed, his mouth parting in a strangled groan as he ground deep, wanting to be as close as possible, to stay buried in you until the shaking stopped.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as he collapsed over you, both of you breathless and wrung out. You nuzzled at his cheek, soft kisses along his jaw as your heart slowly steadied, his weight warm and grounding against your chest.

You could still feel him inside you, the pulse of him easing, warmth dripping slowly between your thighs. Your body throbbed with aftershocks, a dull ache layered with satisfaction. Steve’s breath came in broken huffs against your neck, his weight comforting, grounding, too perfect to let go of just yet.

You didn’t speak for a long moment, just touched and breathed and held on as the last ripples of pleasure ebbed away. Then you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “You’re perfect, you know that?”

Steve huffed a soft, almost disbelieving breath, but you didn’t let him pull away. Your hands curled at his back, anchoring him there. “This is what I miss when you're gone,” you said quietly. “You. Not the touches. Not the relief. Just... you. Your weight. Your warmth. The way you look at me like I’m yours.”

He kissed your collarbone, something tight and wordless in the way he held you.

“And you don’t have to think twice about what’s in the drawer,” you murmured, nuzzling into his temple. “They’re fun. We can enjoy them together if you want. But they’ll never replace this. You.”

Steve didn’t answer right away, but the way he exhaled and kissed you again said enough.

Tags @avengers-assemble-bingo

[lila-lou]

✨Twenty-One - 2/4✨

Summary: You thought this trip was just a chance to unwind — until the door opened and Jensen Ackles was standing there, larger than life and way too real. Now you're spending your birthday week in his house, trying not to lose your mind over your childhood crush who, somehow, keeps looking at you like you’re not just some kid anymore.

-requested-

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, kinda immoral

Word Count: 3600

DISCLAIMER: Everything is purely fiction. I do not intend to attack or hurt anyone. The story is, of course, entirely made up and meant for entertainment purposes. I love them all.

The moment Jensen pulled into his driveway and put the car in park, you started rambling again. “I just—”, you sighed, staring at the dashboard. “I don’t want you to think I’m, like, one of those girls who gets drunk and says stupid stuff to older guys just because they’re—”.

Jensen unbuckled his seatbelt, cutting you a sharp look. “Careful”.

You froze. His voice was low, rough, warning you. Not because he was angry. But because he wasn’t sure he could handle hearing whatever you were about to say. Because you didn’t even realize you were playing with fire.

You blinked up at him, lips slightly parted, too damn innocent for your own good.

And that was exactly why he needed to get you inside, get you to bed, and put some serious distance between you two before he did something he’d regret. With a sigh, he pushed open his door. “Come on, lightweight. Let’s get you inside”.

You huffed, struggling with your own seatbelt. “I got it”. But the moment you tried to step out, your legs wobbled, hard.

Jensen cursed under his breath and was at your side in an instant, catching you before you could fall face-first into his driveway. “Damn it”, he muttered, gripping your waist as he steadied you. “You really can’t hold your liquor, huh?”.

You giggled, gripping his forearm. “Guess not”.

And that was exactly when he realized, your dress had ridden up. Way up. Jensen froze.

You were standing there, wobbly, flushed, laughing softly against his chest, completely oblivious to the fact that your dress was barely covering anything.

His jaw locked. His hands flexed on your waist. This was dangerous.

“You good?”, he asked, voice tight.

You nodded, blinking up at him too sweetly. “Mhm”.

Jensen swallowed hard. This was not okay. Not the way his hands lingered, not the way he had to force himself not to look, not the way your skin felt so warm under his touch. With way too much willpower, he pulled back. Fixed your dress for you, because you of course weren’t thinking straight. Then, clearing his throat, he muttered, “Inside. Now”.

You pouted. “Bossy”.

Jensen huffed. “You have no idea”.

And with that, he led you inside, ignoring the way his entire body was screaming at him to do anything but.

Jensen shut the front door behind you, locking it before running a hand over his face. He needed to get you to bed. Now. But you? You had other ideas. “I’m hungry”, you announced, kicking off your heels as you wandered toward the kitchen.

Jensen groaned, following after you. “Y/N—”.

You ignored him, beelining for the fridge like you owned the place, completely unbothered by the fact that your dress was still dangerously high after your near-fall outside.

Jensen tried really hard not to notice. Tried even harder not to think about how easy it would be to slide his hands back over your waist—Nope. He needed to get a grip.

“You can eat in the morning”, he muttered, leaning against the doorway.

You pouted, staring at the fridge. “But I’m hungry now”.

Jensen exhaled sharply. “And I’m trying to be a good person and not throw you over my shoulder and dump you in bed”.

You giggled at that, clearly not taking him seriously. And that was the problem. Because you thought he was just being Jensen. You thought this was just him looking out for you, protecting you, like he would with AJ.

But it wasn’t.

Not when your dress was still riding up, giving him a view he had no goddamn business seeing. Not when your bare feet padded across the cool tile, your movements unsteady, a little too loose. Not when you turned to look at him with those soft, innocent eyes, like you trusted him completely. Like you had no idea how much restraint it was taking for him to not grab you by the waist and press you against the damn counter.

Jensen clenched his jaw. “Y/N”.

You blinked up at him. “Yeah?”.

“Bed. Now”.

You crossed your arms, unfazed. “Not until I eat something”.

Jensen huffed, pushing off the doorway. “Fine”.

Before you could react, he strode over, grabbed an unopened granola bar from the counter, and tossed it at you. “Eat that. Then bed”.

You caught it, frowning. “A granola bar?”.

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “You got a problem with that?”.

You stared at him, then dramatically sighed, peeling it open with slow, exaggerated movements. “Fine”, you mumbled. “But this isn’t what I meant by a sexy, responsible bodyguard”.

Jensen swore under his breath. You did not just say that. Not again.

His grip tightened on the counter. “Y/N”.

You took a bite, completely unaware that you were actively killing him. “What?”, you asked, voice too sweet.

Jensen ran a hand through his hair, trying so fucking hard not to lose his goddamn mind. Because this was not okay. Not the way you were giggling at him, tipsy and so damn oblivious to how dangerous this whole situation was. Not the way your bare legs were right there, your dress still teasing at the very edge of what was acceptable. Not the way his entire body was screaming at him to get his shit together before he did something he couldn’t take back.

He exhaled sharply. “Finish the damn bar”, he muttered. “Before I’m carrying you to bed”.

You grinned, still chewing. “You wouldn’t”.

Jensen’s jaw ticked. “Try me”.

You took another slow, deliberate bite of the granola bar, chewing with an exaggerated innocence that Jensen was convinced had to be intentional. Except… it wasn’t. That was the worst part. You were clueless about what you were doing to him.

About how your tongue darted out to catch a stray crumb, about how your lips parted just slightly, about how every little thing you did felt like some kind of test he was barely passing.

Jensen groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

You looked at him, wide-eyed. “What?”.

His jaw flexed. “Nothing”.

You pouted. “You look stressed”.

Jensen let out a sharp breath. “Yeah. Wonder why”.

But you didn’t even catch his sarcasm. Instead, you hummed, tilting your head way too cutely. “You know, you should really relax more”.

He stared. You licked some chocolate from your thumb. Jensen gripped the counter like it was the only thing keeping him sane. This was not happening. You were not standing in his kitchen, drunk, giggly, and fucking testing every ounce of self-control he had. And you sure as hell were not just licking chocolate off your damn fingers like some innocent little tease.

Except you were.

Jensen swallowed hard. He had two choices. Stay here and suffer, or get you the hell to bed before this got any worse. Yeah. Option two. Immediately.

Before you could say anything else, Jensen moved. One second, you were standing there, finishing your damn granola bar. The next, you were off the ground, slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You gasped. “Jensen—!?”.

“I warned you”. His voice was low, rough, tight.

You squirmed, laughing. “Put me down!”.

Jensen ignored you, gripping the back of your thigh to keep you steady. Big mistake. Your skin was warm. Soft. Too soft.

Jensen clenched his jaw so hard it hurt. This was hell.

“This is so unnecessary!”, you giggled, hands gripping his back as he carried you down the hall.

“Yeah, well, you don’t listen”, he muttered, forcing himself not to react to the way you were moving against him.

You sighed dramatically. “You’re so bossy”.

Jensen’s eye twitched. “And you talk too much”.

Before you could protest, he kicked your bedroom door open and dropped you onto the bed. You bounced slightly, giggling as you sprawled out. Jensen immediately stepped back. Put some much-needed space between you.

You just lay there, looking up at him, completely unbothered. Still smiling. Still fucking glowing in that dress that had caused him so much goddamn suffering tonight.

He exhaled sharply. “Go to sleep, Y/N”.

You yawned, stretching out with a satisfied sigh. “Fine”.

Jensen nodded, gripping the doorknob. “Goodnight”.

But before he could step out, your soft, tired voice stopped him cold. “Thanks for taking care of me”.

Jensen’s stomach twisted. He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Then, without turning back, he muttered, “Anytime”. And with that, he walked out, knowing damn well he was in trouble.

Jensen had barely thrown himself onto the bed, exhaling sharply as he ran a hand over his face. What the hell was wrong with him? This wasn’t the first time he’d taken care of someone who’d had a little too much to drink. Hell, he’d looked after AJ and her friends plenty of times.

But this? This was different. Because it wasn’t just anyone—it was you. And you were… Soft. Sweet. So damn trusting. And way too young for the kind of thoughts that had been running through his head all night.

Jensen groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He needed to sleep. He shifted under the covers, his bare chest rising and falling as he forced himself to clear his head.

But then, a knock. Soft. Hesitant. Jensen’s brows furrowed.

Then, your voice—small, uncertain. “…Jensen?”.

He immediately sat up, his stomach tightening. Shit. He crossed the room in two strides, pulling the door open. The moment he saw you, his chest tightened. You looked… wrecked. Your face was pale, your arms curled around your stomach, your eyes glassy with discomfort.

His hand was on your shoulder before he even thought about it. “Hey. What’s wrong?”.

You shifted slightly, swallowing hard. “I just… I don’t feel good”.

Jensen’s stomach dropped. Shit. Nausea. Buzzed. You’d eaten right before bed. Yeah, this was not good.

Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you inside. “Alright, come on”, he muttered, immediately switching into caretaker mode.

You wobbled slightly, gripping his forearm. “I’m sorry, I just—”.

Jensen shook his head. “Don’t apologize. Just breathe”.

He led you straight to the bathroom, flipping the light on, making sure you were steady on your feet. You winced at the brightness, gripping the counter.

Jensen crouched slightly, eyes scanning your face. “You gonna throw up?”.

You squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing hard. “…Maybe”.

Jensen cursed under his breath, already reaching for a hair tie from the counter. Then, without thinking—without even hesitating—he gently pulled your hair back. You tensed slightly at the contact, but you didn’t pull away. Jensen’s fingers worked quickly, gathering your hair and tying it up in one fluid motion. The whole time, his hand was firm but gentle against the back of your neck, keeping you steady, keeping you grounded.

“Deep breaths”, he murmured. “It’s okay. Just let it pass”.

You did as he said, breathing in through your nose, exhaling shakily. For a long moment, he just held you like that. Not touching too much, not crossing any lines. Just keeping you steady.

And shit, it did something to his chest. Because you were so damn small against him. So trusting. And Jensen knew this was exactly why he needed to keep his distance. Because you were too young, too innocent, too good. And he? He was a fucking mess.

Jensen swallowed hard, forcing the thought down. For now, you just needed him to be the responsible one. And for his own sanity, that’s exactly what he was going to do.

So he tried not to look. Really, he did.

But when you whined, gripping the bathroom counter for support, all he could see was the way your tiny little pajama set clung to you. White with red strawberries. Shorts barely covering anything. A matching crop top that rode up slightly when you moved.

Jensen clenched his jaw so damn tight it hurt. Because of course. Of course, you were completely unaware of what you looked like right now. Drunk. Wobbly. Dressed like that.

And here he was, a grown-ass man, barely holding on.

You whined again, resting your forehead against the mirror. “Everything’s spinning”.

Jensen forced himself to focus. “Alright, sit”, he muttered, guiding you toward the closed toilet lid.

You pouted as you let him lower you down, your hands gripping his arms for balance. “I don’t like this”.

Jensen huffed, crouching down in front of you. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t know your limits, kid”.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Stop calling me kid”.

Jensen stilled. That… hit differently this time. Because the way you said it—soft, breathy, slightly slurred—wasn’t playful. It wasn’t teasing. It was something else. Something that sent a warning straight through him.

His fingers twitched against his knee. “What do you want me to call you?”.

You peeked at him through your hands, your cheeks flushed, whether from alcohol or something else, he wasn’t sure. Then you mumbled something.

Jensen narrowed his eyes. “What?”.

You huffed. “My name”.

Jensen exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. This girl is gonna kill me. “Fine”, he muttered. “Y/N”.

You smiled sleepily. “Better”.

Jensen shook his head, grabbing a cold washcloth from under the sink. “You’re a brat”.

You giggled—and fuck, that sound did something to his chest. Before he could dwell on it, he gently pressed the cold cloth to the back of your neck. You sighed, leaning into his touch. “That feels nice”.

Jensen cleared his throat. “Yeah, well. Can’t have you passing out on me”.

You hummed, closing your eyes. For a moment, the bathroom was quiet. Just you, breathing softly, letting him take care of you, completely trusting him.

Jensen needed to get out of here. Right now. Before he did something stupid. Before he let his gaze drop to your bare legs, before he noticed the way your crop top rode up slightly when you leaned forward, before he acknowledged just how small and soft you were under his hands.

But then— You whimpered. Not dramatically. Not for attention. Just a soft, drunken little sound as you slumped forward, your hands gripping his forearm like you were searching for something solid.

And fuck. Jensen stilled.

You barely noticed, your fingers curling against his skin. “I don’t feel good”, you whispered, voice small. His jaw tightened. Yeah. No shit.

He exhaled sharply, his free hand still pressing the cold cloth against your neck. “I know, sweetheart”.

You melted at the word.

Jensen felt it. The tiny shiver that ran through you. The way your grip on him tightened. His stomach fucking twisted. You liked that. Too much.

He swallowed, voice dropping lower. “Just breathe, Y/N. You’re alright”.

You nodded sleepily, blinking up at him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered.

And that was exactly why he needed to walk away. Because you were drunk. Because you were too damn young. Because you were completely trusting him, sitting there in those ridiculous little pajamas, staring at him like he was something good.

And Jensen? Jensen wasn’t good. Not when he was thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking about. Not when his whole body was screaming at him to pull away—but he couldn’t. Not when you sighed again, your body sagging into him, whispering his name like it was something soft, something safe. And not when his own name had never sounded more fucking dangerous.

Jensen swore under his breath, because you, completely oblivious, completely fucking trusting, let your forehead fall against his thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that? That was a problem. A big problem. Because your skin was warm. Because you were soft. Because you had no idea what you were doing to him.

Jensen’s whole body locked up. His hands curled into fists against his knees. His jaw tightened so hard it ached. “Y/N”. His voice was rough, nearly strained.

You hummed, rubbing your cheek slightly against his thigh, completely unaware of how dangerous that was. “Mhm?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply. His hand hovered in the air, torn between pulling you away and forcing himself to stay still. “You gotta—”. He cleared his throat, his voice tighter than it should’ve been. “You gotta move, sweetheart”.

You made a soft, sleepy noise. “Mm, but I’m comfy”.

Jensen ran a hand over his face, staring up at the ceiling like that would somehow help. Like that would somehow keep his body from reacting to the fact that you were pressed against him, warm and pliant, still in those stupid tiny pajamas that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

This was not okay. This was not fucking okay. Jensen squeezed his eyes shut. “Y/N. Get. Up”.

You pouted, nuzzling closer. “Why’re you so tense?”.

Jensen nearly lost it. His knee jerked slightly, just enough to shift you, just enough for you to realize exactly how much of a problem this was. Because you suddenly froze. Your breath hitched.

Jensen’s hands flexed on his knees. The bathroom was dead silent.

Then, you slowly lifted your head, blinking up at him. Your lips parted. Your eyes, wide, glassy, innocent, flicked down. Right where they shouldn’t.

Jensen’s stomach dropped, because you realized. You fucking realized. Your cheeks went bright red. Jensen clenched his jaw, voice low. Warning. “Don’t. Say. A word”.

You gulped. The second the realization hit you, what had just happened, what you had just felt, your stomach churned.

Before Jensen could say another word, you whipped around, dropped onto the floor, and yanked open the toilet lid.

You threw up. Hard.

Jensen cursed, immediately snapping out of his own head. Because of course this is what happened. Of course the universe threw him a fucking lifeline. Because he needed it.

Jensen immediately moved behind you, pulling your hair back with steady, careful hands. “It’s okay. Let it out”.

You groaned miserably, your forehead pressing against the cool porcelain. “I hate this”.

Jensen huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, no shit”.

You whimpered, gripping the side of the toilet. “Kill me”.

Jensen smirked. “Not how I usually spend my Friday nights, but hey, I’ll consider it”.

You let out a pathetic whine, half laughing, half dying. “You’re mean”.

Jensen chuckled, shaking his head. But underneath it all? He was relieved. Because this was exactly what he needed. A hard, undeniable reminder that you were too young, too drunk, too damn innocent for him to be thinking about you the way he had been.

Once had finally stopped throwing up, you sat back on your heels, groaning into your hands.

Jensen sighed, still crouched beside you, one hand braced on his knee, the other gently resting on your back. “You good?”, he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded weakly. “Mhm”.

Jensen huffed, rubbing a slow, firm circle between your shoulder blades. “Yeah, I don’t believe that”.

You sighed, tilting your head against his shoulder. “This is so embarrassing”.

Jensen chuckled. “Yeah, well. That’s what happens when you’re twenty-one and don’t know your limits”.

You whined, burying your face against him. “Stop reminding me”.

“Alright, lightweight”, he murmured, shifting his arm around you. “You’re done here. Let’s get you to bed”.

You groaned as Jensen effortlessly slid an arm under your legs, the other behind your back, and lifted you up. You squeaked. “Jensen!”.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a superhero. We get it”.

You giggled sleepily, curling against his chest as he carried you through the house.

Jensen swallowed hard. This was dangerous. Not carrying you—that part was fine. Easy. It was the way you felt in his arms, the way you clung to him without even thinking, the way your breath was warm against his collarbone. It was the way his fingers curled just a little too tightly around your thigh.

Jensen exhaled sharply as he reached your bedroom, pushing the door open with his foot. He stepped toward the bed and gently laid you down.

You whimpered when his warmth left you, shifting against the blankets.

Jensen had to force himself to let go. He grabbed the comforter, pulling it up over you. “Get some sleep, Y/N”.

You blinked up at him, your eyes half-lidded, sleepy, trusting. “Thank you”. It was soft. Barely there. But it hit him like a damn freight train. Because you meant it. Because you looked at him like he was something good.

Jensen didn’t feel good. Not right now. Not when you were all wrapped up in his sheets, looking so damn soft and small, still wearing those ridiculous little pajamas that had made his night a living hell. Not when your fingers curled slightly against the pillow, like you were still reaching for him. Not when his whole body was screaming at him to step away before he made a mistake.

Jensen swallowed hard. Forced his voice to stay even. “Anytime”.

You hummed, your lashes fluttering, already halfway to sleep.

Jensen clenched his jaw, before he turned off the light, stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind him.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Part 3

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[mikkomacko]

Him and I - 15

Order of Affairs

Mob Boss Nico Hischier x reader

Warnings: Mentions of death/faking death, mentions of depression, cursing, smut

A/n: Thank you all so much for reading! And for commenting and reblogging and sending asks. I absolutely adore chatting about this story with y’all and I’m so happy you care enough to want to discuss. Enjoy this chapter and new phase of our Mob babies!

Previous Chapter

____________________________________________

The kitchen buzzes with the unintelligible hum of the men in the other room, all of them gathered for the early morning meeting session Nico called a few days ago after your visit to the cemetery. Later than he would’ve preferred but things needed to be planned out, Timo needed to return home before he could make any big moves.

Jack’s overly excited voice rises above the others, flowing into the kitchen and you can’t help but smile to yourself. When Luke first told you that they always called Jack by the name of Rowdy growing up, you didn’t even have to question it. Bright and early on a Wednesday morning and he sounds like he’s at Disneyland.

“Black coffee? That’s not a good sign.”

You gasp at the familiar voice, abandoning Nico’s plain, bitter coffee on the counter in favor of whirling around. Timo is standing there, having just coming in through the garage door and even though it was only two weeks without him he looks different. Fuller maybe, happier for sure.

“You’re home!” You screech, and he laughs as Moose comes barreling in at the noise. Racing the dog across the kitchen, you wrap your arms around Timo and he does the same, squeezing you tightly. Moose sniffs at his pants and shoes.

“Worst trip of my life,” he says, jokingly. “2 weeks without you? Never again.”

Of course it wasn’t the worst trip of his life. He’s practically glowing from the inside out but the sentiment warms your heart anyway.

“Ugh I missed you so much.” You say, pulling back from him. He ruffles your hair, shoving you back towards the island so you can finish making your morning tea and add sugar to Nico’s coffee. Even though he told you not to.

He leans against the counter, turning up his nose at Nico’s mug. “He’s so stressed he’s abandoned creamer again?”

It’s a known thing between you two that when Nico has a lot going on, when he’s been dealing with something as stressful as the situation with your family, he gets laser focus. Focus that will apparently be hindered by any kind of sugar in his morning caffeine. You think he’s a little dramatic though and you hate kissing him after he’s had black coffee, the bitterness lingering on his breath, so you sneak in some sugar anyway.

“I don’t even know if he’s stressed,” you admit, “it’s more like he’s just so angry that this is all he cares about.”

Timo gives you a knowing look, “you mean you’re all he cares about.” Shrugging, you don’t verbally confirm his statement but the pleased smile you can’t contain says enough. Nico’s lost you too many times before and he’s not about to let it happen again at the hands of another family member.

“Seriously though,” he continues, playfulness gone as you mix in sugar cubes to your own cup of tea. “I mean this was a lot. Even if you’re going to downplay it for his sake or whatever. Your parents are fucked for what they did and I’m sure whatever Nico is doing is justified.”

Dropping a couple cubes into Nico’s cup, you shrug. “I know it’s justified. I’m the one that approved it all.” The kitchen goes still, your gaze locked on where you’re stirring the sugar around the mug. The only sound is the drag of the spoon and the chatter of the boys in the other room.

Timo ducks his head down, catching your gaze with a giddy smirk. “You approved it all? Really?”

“Well don’t be so surprised,” you scoff, “I beat you and Nico in Switzerland didn’t I? Besides, he promised me then that I get to have a say in getting back at people who hurt me so.”

Timo snickers, totally pleased and when you meet his gaze with a shy grin he’s beaming so wide his smile looks like it’s about to fall off the sides of his face.

“Thank god,” he laughs, “I was thinking I’d come home and you’d be going rouge again. Hopefully taking me with you this time.”

You roll your eyes. “I could never go completely rouge on Nico, you know that.” He gives you an imploring look and you sigh. “Of course I’d invite you this time Timo.”

He reaches across the island to ruffle your hair. “I’d go with this time, just for the record.”

“I think Nico would too,” you laugh, “but tell me about Switzerland! How was Amelia? Is she going to come visit?”

Timo doesn’t get the chance to respond. Nico is in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest as he nods back towards the dining room. “He can tell you later. Meeting is starting.”

You both stand up straighter at his tone, shifting from playful to all business. Timo purses his lips, motioning for you to go first and you do, Nico’s coffee in hand while yours sits on the counter to cool. You hand it to him as you pass, pressing a kiss to the harsh line of his clenched jaw in hopes that it eases him a little bit. His features don’t relax, but he pats at your side appreciatively. Him and Timo share a brief hug in greeting, the three of you lining up at the end of the table packed full of every Devils mob member.

Nico takes a sip of his coffee, setting it on the table top and the room falls quiet, Jack and Luke waving at you from their seats just to the left of Nico. You smile, wiggling your fingers back at them as Nico clears his throat.

“I know this is a different look to our usual meetings,” he begins, hands on his hips. “And I know you all know what that means.”

The hush that has taken over the room feels heavy, strained by Nico’s confirmation that this isn’t just a regular weekly meeting. It was obvious from the nervous chatter earlier that they did in fact know something was up. Nico has never moved a meeting to a private location. That’s only done when there’s a shift from the normal practices and laws of the Devils. When Nico first explained to you how their meetings work, he’d briefly mentioned his ability to move meeting locations. He’d only ever do it when he needed something to stay entirely between him and the Devils. It’s used for extra protective measures that way when Nico changes rules or protocols, he can insure it stays within the group. It gives them a cushion of surprise against an enemy.

You don’t know if the boys are aware of who this enemy is today. Of course the ones that had been with you that day know, but you have no clue what Nico has told the others. Maybe he hasn’t said anything and that’s why so many of them eagerly lean forward, hanging on his every word.

“There’s going to be some changes for the time being. I don’t have a timeline on how long you’ll have to abide by them but you will follow everything I say today until I give word.”

He pauses for a moment to let it sink in, the words hanging in the air far more grave than they should be. Alex catches your eye, his eyebrows pinched together in worry and you give him a reassuring nod. Nico has to be serious for this because it is serious. He’s not trying to scare Alex or any of the boys, he just needs them to know that this is important.

“The following protocols are to be memorized and used 24/7. Meaning you’re all on shift, always. Even when you’re at home, you keep them in practice, got it?”

A chorus of agreement comes from the table. Nico eyes them all for another beat before continuing, his tone not as barking anymore. His eyes stay dark and observing through, his jaw still clenched. The knuckles of his hands are white where they’re gripping his sides.

“This first one is the most important and I want no arguing or negotiating on it,” Nico sends Alex and the Hughes boys a pointed look. “Y/n is with me at all times. If either of us have to go in for work, we go together. Other than that, we’ll be running everything out of the house here.”

Alex gives you another worried look but doesn’t attempt to argue or question Nico. You have a feeling he’s waiting though until it’s just you two and him. He’d never question his boss in front of everyone, but he will ask his guardian after they’ve all left.

“With that in place, Timo is taking over all face-to-face business with Hischier Enterprises. Everyone under that side will report to him in person and follow what he says. For matters that absolutely require y/n, you come here or do it over the phone. Unless I say so, she won’t be at the penthouse. And you’re all still in charge of wellness checks and emergency signals without her. Timo will work out a schedule with you guys.”

Timo takes a step forward, pointing a finger at the line of boys that work under you and him. At his gesture, they all sit up a little straighter.

“Merc you’re with me now. All the second hand stuff you were doing before is the same, it’s just you’re my second hand for now.”

Your best friend steps back in line with you and Nico, Mercer’s gaze falling to you questioningly. Amused, you step up now, nodding at him.

“Keep training under Timo,” you tell him, “have his back the same way you did with mine. As for the rest of you��”

The three boys wait with wide and expectant eyes, intently waiting for instruction from you. “Johnny and Alex will stick together on all assignments, and while you’re technically still under the Enterprise, you’ll be following special orders from Nico and I. You’ll report here every morning instead of the penthouse.”

Just like you thought he would, Alex relaxes back into his seat, features softening into an almost pleased smile. Luke, however, has put together that with you out of the day-to-day picture, he’s now the odd man out, and his desperate gaze reflects that.

“You’ll be back with Jack,” you tell him, “the two of you will split time between handling some things for Timo and me, and handling other tasks on Nico’s side.”

Your fiancé steps in then, a heavy hand finding your lower back as he moves to your side. Addressing Jack, he says, “You’re going to have to step up a bit, do more for Jesp and Jonas who will be covering my post, yeah?”

Jack nods, bringing his hand up to his forehead in a far too serious salute. Nico ignores him, nudging you back when you let out a giggle. Your part is done now, at least for the rest of the meeting so you stand silently next to Timo, listening intently even though you’re already aware of the new rules.

“The boys working with me,” Nico starts, crossing his arms over his chest again. “I’m upping surveillance meaning I’m also upping everyone’s shifts. You’ll also be on a buddy system. Jonas and Jesp will give you your assignments after the meeting.

“These aren’t just bar watch assignments. The whole city is to be monitored. On top of camera surveillance, you’ll have patrolling shifts with your buddy. Our target areas are Devs protected establishments, particularly ones in Jersey City.”

If any of the boys realize his intentions with the new rules, they don’t react to it. Aside for your boys, you’re not exactly sure what the others know of your past. They know you’re from here, that you lost your family for this like so many others did. But you can’t even begin to guess what they’ve all been told about your journey into Nico’s life.

Do they know about the cemetery? About the deli too? Has Nico let anyone know that you’ve been disowned and treated like trash by your parents? They probably could guess it by Nico’s new protocols. Everyone knows he would never let anyone get away with disrespecting you. He’s said before that he’d burn cities and wage wars for you. Do they know that’s what he’s doing now?

Are all of these men eager to get in the line of fire for you?

“Last but not least,” Nico runs a thoughtful hand through his hair, settling it on his hip. “I’m putting the word out. Any business with Devs horns on the window is forbidden from serving y/n’s family. Names and photos will be distributed and any form of business, in person or not, is not permitted.”

There’s an almost still reaction, like the air in the room grows solid at his words. In all his years in New Jersey, Nico has never laid out such a rule for their businesses. He never wanted to be the cruel boss, never wanted to take away from the creativity and free flow of the city that made it so great. Nico loves New Jersey, you know that, the boys know that. This shift in rules particularly says enough.

He’s drawing battle lines. He’s getting a step ahead because for the first time, Nico is preparing the Devils for the biggest defensive action they’ve ever taken. They’re not just surviving now, not just living in the fabrics of New Jersey. He is preparing for their first territory battle.

All of it at the defense of you.

It doesn’t hit you lightly.

Since joining the Devils, you knew your place in the family was different. Nico had always told you as much, Timo had warned you from the get-go. You would never just be a member. Unlike the others, you didn’t come to Nico and join out of circumstance. No, he came to you. Nico made the space for you here. More so, he made that space a place of leadership and power.

He changed the entire layout of Devils so that you ruled alongside him. Most other families simply marry the women into the group and rely on them to bring up the next generation of members.

Nico didn’t bring you into the Devs for that, to be a wife and a mother, to be a homemaker. He brought you in because he loves you, because he wants to share the family he built with you. And he wants you to keep building it by his side rather than from his shadow.

It’s a lot to take in, being loved so much. Especially coming off the low of being cut out by your family. Their only daughter, the miracle baby they never thought they’d have, and yet they let that miracle fade out. Your parents are living the lonely, childless, two-income life they used to say they feared. And it’s all at their own hand.

Knowing that they’d rather live in their worst nightmare than with you being happy hurts in a way you can’t explain. It’s the same feeling you’d imagine Luke and Jack have towards their family. Alex too, especially with the state of his departure from Sweden. At least the Hughes boys have contact with their mother.

You and Alex have nothing of the sort. Unloved, unspoken of, forgotten and abandoned by the mothers that were supposed to love you unconditionally and whole heartedly.

Nico dismisses the meeting with a final order for them all to touch base with either Jonas and Jesper, or Timo and Mercer in the case of your boys. Your best friend has only a moment to pass by you, briefly touching the bend of your elbow with a reassuring gaze as he heads to gather with the younger boys.

Lost in thought, you stare at Nico’s abandoned coffee mug on the table top until he’s touching the small of your back, fingers warm through the thin fabric of your cotton tee.

“You okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased in concern when you blink up at him, lightly shaking your head out of its stupor. Now that he’s no longer running the meeting, and a such a serious one at that, you tuck into his body, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Yeah,” you promise, “it’s just a lot.”

You don’t have to further explain because he already knows. It’s a lot to do for just you. Even though you looked over this plan with him and approved of it all, it still feels like too much for just you. Him putting the boys in danger like this, pulling focus away from whatever was going on over in New York.

What if he misses something significant there because he’s too focused here? Too focused on you?

“For you,” he murmurs, gravely “it’s not enough. You’ve spent years missing them, hoping that one day they’d come around just to be hurt beyond reason. With us, with me, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do to make up for that.”

Rising to your toes, you press a kiss to the scar on the corner of his lips, then another to his mouth, smiling when his hold on your waist tightens.

“I know. I’m just worried that we’re going to miss something else because we’re so busy with this.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Miss something like the Rags?” At your hum of confirmation he continues. “We’re not going to miss anything. Lee is keeping an eye out and with you and me being together all the time, we’ll pay attention. There’s enough of us to deal with your family and deal with whatever Trouba is up to.”

You hadn’t thought of that before. How being home with Nico everyday will open up your schedules now. Even if the sole focus is work, you’re bound to get time with just him. Unless there’s an absolute emergency, he’s all yours.

A part of you warms at the thought. You’ve missed him lately. It feels like ever since you got back from the hot mess that was Vancouver, you only see him at night or the couple hours put aside to teach him to drive the new car. At this point though, he’s pretty much got it down and your lessons have turned into driving around the city with the windows down, having sex in the backseat, and then going for food. Not that you’re complaining but it’ll be nice to be at home with him more often.

“I don’t want to be on lockdown Nico,” you say though, thinking of Switzerland. You had this conversation then and you’re hoping to god he didn’t just forget it. “Please don’t ask me to stay in the house with 24 hour surveillance. I want to actually help and actually be a part of it.”

He smiles down at you with mirth, pretty dimples in his cheeks and eyes moony with fondness. Something else glints there too, underneath all that warmth and love, a look of pride, and you know he didn’t forget.

“You won’t be,” Nico assures, tucking your hair behind your ear. He takes your chin between two fingers, his thumb tracing over the dip of it with a touch so soft it makes your whole chest grow hot. “I’m not locking you up in a tower and leaving you here. The reason you’re going to be with me all the time is for emergencies. If something happens with the guys, I need you close so you can make a decision right away.

“You’re leading us here, baby. I’m just the messenger.”

Almost giddy, you giggle and blush like a schoolgirl at his words. It makes him chuckle too, tucking his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. Faintly, you wonder if maybe you and him are crazy. Laughing and kissing over the knowledge that together you’re both about to make your parents lives absolute hell. Maybe the mob did change you, did make you in this unrecognizable and unredeemable person.

Alex sidles up and you break back from Nico to pull him into a hug, rubbing your hand up and down his back in greeting. You didn’t really see the boys when they got here this morning, not that there was much time for chatting with them anyway. Though you wish there had been because Alex is turning to Nico before you’ve even fully let go of him.

“I want to stay with you guys,” he says firmly, to no one’s surprise. “After Switzerland and stuff she should have two of us with her. Especially since it’s personal this time and I understand Italian basically so I can translate.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Nico stares down at Alex with a raised eyebrow, as if he’s actually considering the offer. You have to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at his little game. You were the one to assign Alex and Johnny to special assignments under Nico, simply because you wanted Alex with you. When Nico downright refused to leave you with just Alex, this was the compromise.

You knew Alex wouldn’t be entirely happy with it, at least not until he understands what the promotion, so to speak, actually means. Which is why you wanted to explain to him before hand. Now Nico gets to have his fun with it.

“Johnny is fluent,” Nico counters, “maybe I should keep him and send you with Timo. He’s got a lot more experience too which is safer for her.”

Even with his back to you, you can picture the way Alex’s mouth drops open in offense. His whole body bristles, hands coming out to his sides as he squawks, “what? No I want to stay! Come on Nico don’t send me with Timo. Please let me stay here.”

Nico clicks his tongue. “I don’t know…” he shrugs, looking around at the few boys still lingering and Alex keeps blocking his gaze, stepping side to side so that Nico is always looking at him.

“Okay,” you laugh, cutting in after Alex lets out a distressed huff. “Alex I assigned you and Johnny together.”

He whips around, gaze wounded and mouth open in offense. You quickly shush him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Special assignments from Nico means you’ll be with us most of the time. Unless there’s an actual location you need to be at with Johnny, the two of you will be monitoring and working with us.”

His whole body relaxes, features morphing into a happy smile and he shrugs, “Oh cool.” Like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t just get all wound up and defensive over the thought of not working with you and Nico.

“Oh cool,” Nico mocks, pinching at the back of Alex’s neck and he yelps, shoulders hunching up to try and get away from the sting. “Who do you think you are questioning us, huh?”

His tone is light hearted and teasing, easy going as him and Alex start shoving and pinching at each other.

“I’m a hyphenated Hischier,” Alex retorts, sticking his tongue out and then laughing when Nico jabs at the soft spot between his chest and arm. “I can say what I want here.”

They keep half wrestling and bickering, Alex laughing at each little poke and swipe as Nico backs him into the wall. He’s not giggling quite as much as Alex, but he’s got that smile on his face he only gets with the boys, especially Alex. The one that crinkles by the corners of his eyes, narrows them so much he’s all dark and long eyelashes, jaw clenched as he tries and fails to fight back that big of a grin.

Timo slings his arm over your shoulders, squeezing you into his side and you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Glad he’s still having fun,” Timo says, referring to Nico. “Didn’t really know how he’d be with all of this.”

You know what he means. Nico can be far too serious sometimes, shouldering things that are too heavy for just him but he never tries to share the burden. He likes being the to one to do it. To fix things, to take care of everyone, especially you. Even if it’s not good for him, he’ll wear it.

“Yeah,” you agree, “Alex is good at getting to him to take a breath and start acting his age instead of like a 50 year old man.”

Timo laughs under his breath, the two of you still watching them fight with each other. Moose has joined in now, wiggling between their legs and bullying his head into Nico’s knee or Alex’s calf.

“You think we’re ready for this?” You ask Timo, a little quieter than before.

He’s silent for a beat, contemplating. “Yeah I think so. Like I said before, Nico is ready for everything. Even when the rest of us aren’t.”

“I really missed you.” You turn into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him tight. He returns the embrace, patting at your back soothingly.

“I missed you too, a lot. We’ve got a lot to catch up on huh?”

There’s so much to talk about. Not just the rundown of what happened with your parents and everything else concerning work, but with just you two. You want to tell him how much it sucked seeing them that day. How stupid and powerless you felt. That you really wish he’d seen how well Mercer did too. And you want to know about Amelia and Switzerland, if they talked more about the future. You want to ask if he saw Luca or Katja, how they’re doing. Did they mention Nina too?

Right now isn’t the time though. Nico’s let Alex go by now, ruffling his hair before giving him room to escape into the kitchen. Which means it’s time to get work now. Starting with a visit to your gravesite.

~~~~

“This is actually insane.”

Nico scoffs out a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head in disbelief and planting his hands on his hips. It’s such a far off look from the man that was horsing around with Alex this morning, laughing and full of light that you immediately reach for his arm, hooking your hand through the crook of his elbow.

“That’s one word for it,” he mutters, but he lets out a deep breath and stretches his arm out to you, lets you tuck your fingers between his.

“At least it’s going to be gone.” You offer as a comfort, and then, like he’s trying to back up your statement, the slow rumble of the crane starts up from across the way, the groundskeeper already rolling it forward and towards your plot.

“Where am I supposed to put my flowers for you?” Timo pouts, the store bought bouquet of white roses in his hand and you laugh. Nico, who doesn’t find it very funny, reaches around you to snatch them away.

“Hey,” you complain, “those are mine!” He dodges your swiping hand, tucking the gathered stems of the flowers under his other arm. The crane inches forward, the three of you backing up to give it more room. You shift in the thick leather jacket Nico insisted you wear, the fabric hot and sticky in the humid air. Between that and red bandana tied over your head, pinning down your hair that’s grown frizzy, it’s almost unbearable out here.

You’d take sweating in Nico’s jacket and hiding behind devils red any day though if it means you get to see this. It swells up inside you, bubbling in your gut the closer the claw of the crane gets. Your fingers squeeze Nico’s, the relief and excitement growing and growing as the metal teeth enclose around the top of the headstone, digging into the stone until it cracks. There’s no need to preserve this stupid rock anyway.

You almost laugh at how easily it’s lifted into the air, not even constructed to look or act like a real grave marker. Temporary. Hastily done. It makes you wonder what the point even was. Did they plan on removing it if you ever came back? Pretending nothing happened? That they never did this? Or was it made so shitty because they put no real thought into killing you off? They made the decision and just executed it off the bat.

“That’s a little lackluster,” you grumble, “It’s so small. I fake died and they couldn’t even get one that goes buried in the ground?”

Nico elbows you, gaze unimpressed under those dark eyebrows of his. You wish he could see your eyes through your black sunglasses, see that you do find this kind of funny. You jut your bottom lip out at him.

“You’d never do this to me, right baby?” At your teasing tone his lips twitch, fighting back an amused smile that just eggs you on. “Right?” You press your chin into his bicep, nudging his arm annoyingly so.

“No I wouldn’t,” he assures through a grumble, rolling his eyes fondly. “Build a fucking statue for you baby, okay?”

Smirking proudly, you rise to your toes and press a chaste kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Yeah I know. Nico Hischier and too small have never been in the same sentence, have they?”

Both him and Timo snort, Nico’s ears turning pink at the tips and he runs his tongue along the inside of his dimpled cheek. Shaking his head in both disbelief and laughter, he hands you your flowers in favor cupping your jaw. Holding your gaze, he narrows his eyes in an all too telling way. The same one he gives you when you’re toeing the line of what’s acceptable to say to him in public. The line has a little more grace when it’s just Timo around, fortunatly for you, but you already know you’ll be making it up to him later for that one.

“We’re surrounded by dead bodies and you’re trying to get in my pants?”

You shrug, the movement a little awkward with how he’s holding your face still. Over his shoulder, the crane inches away with your headstone swaying from the hook.

“Can’t do it in front of living people, can’t do it in front of dead ones, when am I supposed to do it?”

Nico shakes his head, fingers flexing into a light pinch and then he lets you go. He blows out a puff of air, fighting to contain the smile you were searching for in the first place. You and Timo share a hushed snicker, only silencing when the rumble of the tractor returns.

This time in its claw hangs the thick chain weaved around the new headstone, a hulking black slab of marble dangling from it.

“That’s a little menacing,” Timo says, arms crossed over his chest as the new marker inches closer and closer to your newly renovated plot. Shifting to look at you, he eyes you carefully.

“Why do you think they did it? Like what was the point of the headstone?”

It’s the same question you and Nico have been pouring over everyday since you first came to the cemetery. What did they want to accomplish with that? How long had it been sitting here before you found it? Most concerning, how did they pull it off? You know how Nico got the new headstone made, how much he paid for it to be illegally placed here. With his influence though, that’s a price he can easily pay.

Your parents can’t. You have no idea how they got around the law to fake your death. It was a risky move, one that could’ve ended with them in jail. Instead they’ll face something worse. They’re staring directly at you and Nico now, two people without much of a limit on what kind of damage they can do.

All to send a message that could’ve been sent in an email if you’re being honest.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You mumble, “it was for me. They wanted me to know it was actually over.” What you did when you chose Nico was unforgivable. Even though you’d always left that door cracked for your parents, always hoped maybe things would be better again, they shut that door a long time ago. Locked it from the outside and sealed it tight with a pretty headstone on top. “They never intended to be my parents again.”

Nico reaches for you again, nose flared and eyebrows lowered thoughtfully. You step into his side, let him pull you close and comfort you in the only way he really knows how. Protecting you, loving you. Even if he looks like he’s mentally far away from you, his mind most likely sifting through everything he wants to do to your parents. He wants to kill them. You know he does.

“How’d they do it?” Timo questions, “Do we know anything yet?”

Nico’s tone is clipped when he responds. “No we don’t.” You slip your arm around his waist, pressing your hand into the tense spot between his shoulder blades and rub your palm in soothing circles. He’s frustrated, you know that. He wants to get ahead of this, needs information if he wants to get a foot up. Every time you’ve said Nico is smart, you mean it. Knowledge is power and like he told you the night you met him, he’s never just on a power trip.

“There was nothing on public record of it,” he continues, a little less angry and more exhausted sounding now. “No obituaries, no news headlines or articles, not even a certificate of death.”

On paper, all of this is impossible. If you were to look at it in black and white, there’s no way your parents would’ve been able to pull this off. And if you had any other life than a mob one, it would all seem like some sick prank or joke. Except you are a mob wife and you know there’s always more.

“That’s what Alex and Johnny are for,” you explain, motioning to the two boys that have been monitoring your corner of the cemetery. They’re not as bundled up as you but they’re in all black, weapons concealed in their waist bands and a red bandanas tied around one of their legs. “Alex is like obsessive and Johnny is good with details. We’re hoping together they can do better digging than Nico and I could.”

That and you need a distraction. If your parents are now on the lookout for you and Nico, especially after he visited their home, they’ll have their ears to ground for any sign of him. They don’t know Alex or Johnny, didn’t see either of them with you that day. If anyone can sneak around them for information, it’ll be those two.

While they’re watching you and Nico, your boys will be watching them.

Almost impressed, Timo looks you up and down, something warm in those blue eyes of his. Not the same warmth that he gives you and Nico just because you’re his best friends. It’s more like…admiration.

“You’re good at this,” he says in explanation when you give him a questioning look. “Being in charge, being a prinzessin.”

His words make your heart well, fluttering up with relief. By now, you think you’ve proven yourself about being able to handle mob business. But Nico has grown up in this. He was literally bred to be the head of a mob family. And Timo, while not born into it, got in with Nico at such a young age too. They’re the ones that know what to do, have this life ingrained in them.

Hearing that from Timo, seeing that look in his eyes, is such a heavy compliment it makes you want to cry. He’s known you from day one, has heard every fear and concern you’ve ever had about Nico and the Devils. He was the one that took that broken girl, the one still insecure and lost after you’re break up with Nico and the loss of your family, traumatized and mentally unwell from Philadelphia, and taught you to be strong and capable.

These past few months, between Nico showing you that all this time that he’s been building up the Devils for you and Timo admitting that he’d follow you over Nico, it’s almost too much.

Blinking away the flattered tears that have gathered in your waterline, you take a steadying inhale as the crane comes to a stop. The groundskeeper, a man unknown to you but now on Nico’s payroll, maneuvers the arm until the newly engraved headstone is placed in the indent left from yours. Only this one is triple the size, stretching across the entire plot, on all three spaces under your parent’s name.

Shiny and new, the black marble swirled with flecks of gold is a stark contrast to the white one that had been here. It’s unmistakable, unmissable. If your parents so much as drive by and glance over they’ll know that it’s been swapped. And they’ll come over to see the latest warning that’s been put in place.

Glaringly obvious who it’s come from. The stone is engraved with their names, a large and gothic looking font spread across the entire top half. Nico didn’t put any dates on it but he did add a personal touch.

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment.

You can’t help but smirk at the scripture he stamped under their names, framed by two imposing devil horns on either side. In case they happened to miss the message, the devils logo will hopefully do the job.

No matter what they do now, how they might try to go back or rationalize themselves, Nico will not be sparing them. As of right now, they’ve already been caught. All he’s waiting for is the explanation you want, the reasoning that will condemn them.

The irony of him being God here isn’t lost on you. If they want to take you off this earth unwilling and untruthful, he can play God bigger and better than anyone. He can do worse. And you won’t stop him.

“What’s next?” Timo asks as the groundskeeper dropping the chains from the crane. They crash to the ground with a ringing clatter, falling away from the headstone until the whole thing glints freely at you.

Nico squeezes your hip, peering over your head to his friend. “We start pushing in on them,” he says, going into the plan you and him have laid out. You’ll monitor Johnny and Alex from the house, sending them out to tail and take tabs on your family. They’re going to get down whatever routine and schedule your family might have, figure out why and how your nonna is suddenly in town. And anything she might’ve known about your death. While the four of you work on that, Timo and Mercer are going to be enforcing the new rules for Devils protected establishments. The next round of check ups he’ll make sure they’ve been notified and are in agreement with the protocols. Anyone who isn’t will be dropped from their contract.

The others will be awarded a compensation for any income they may miss out on by denying your family services. Timo will be working out the numbers on that and making sure it’s all distributed. Then he’ll be double checking that all businesses have a way of reaching Jonas and Jesper in case of emergency or any retaliation on your parents side.

“I don’t want any trouble for our people,” Nico concludes. “You gotta keep a close eye there Timo. That’s the only way we keep them safe and her.”

He gives you a shake on the final word, your sunglasses slipping down your nose as you giggle and curl into his chest. Smiling softly, he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Timo makes a noise of realization. “You’re going to up root them. Make them unwelcome in their home.”

You purse your lips, unwilling to admit that this part of the plan was fuzzy. Yeah you want them to suffer, want them to feel as lost and uncomfortable as you did. But Nico had offered more, the ultimate punishment and you still haven’t answered.

“It’s nothing worse than what they did to her,” Nico defends but you both know Timo wasn’t judging. He just hasn’t been here for it all, doesn’t know what exactly you’ve contributed. He’s trying to get a feel for how far this will all go because from the looks of it, Nico is going to cross that line.

“So this is how it ends?” He nods towards the headstone. “It’ll stop when they’re here?”

The words hang in the air, both of you unable to answer. Nico won’t make this decision for you and you won’t make it either. Obviously you know they’ve done that, have made the hard choice of completely removing you from their life but they lied about it. They didn’t actually try to kill you. Though you supposed the only reason they didn’t is because they’ve always assumed the worst of Nico. They probably thought he would get you killed and then all of this here wouldn’t be a lie. More of a prophecy come to life.

Up until last week though, you still had a space for them in your future. You were already mulling over the idea of inviting them to your wedding, of figuring out a way with Nico to at least let them know that they’d be welcome to be there for you if they wanted to make the leap. You hadn’t written them off yet and you’re still not sure you want to.

All you know is that you want to make them pay. And you want them to know it was you. Nico isn’t the only one calling the shots here, even if you’ll let it appear that way. So you step out of Nico’s hold, crossing the untouched dirt of your fake gravesite and lay the bouquet of flowers at the bottom of the new headstone.

A pretty little personal touch, a gesture of hello from you to them.

~~~~

The soft glow of the kitchen lights, only half of them flicked on, greets you at the base of the staircase. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you tip toe across the entryway and into the kitchen, a low smile taking over your lips at the sight before you.

Nico’s hair hangs messily over his forehead, still rumbled and frizzy from what little sleep he’s had. The pajama pants he so rarely sleeps in hang low on his hips, the band of them hidden under the apron he’s tied around his bare torso. In the little light he’s given himself, he’s hunched over the countertop and layering a spoonful of cream in a glass dish.

“Hey,” you greet softly, pausing in the doorway. He looks up, eyes a little wild and startled before realizing it’s you.

“Hi,” he murmurs, gaze softening. He drops the spoon into the large bowl of whipped cream, straightening out. “What are you doing up?”

Laughing to yourself, you round the island as he wipes his hands clean on a dish towel. “Not baking, that’s for sure.” You tease, stepping into his space.

“S’not baking technically.” He defends, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Laying your cheek against the scratchy fabric of his apron, you examine the contents laid out on the countertop. The lady fingers, the bowl of cold coffee, and whipped topping.

“You’re making tiramisu?”

He hums, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Yeah. Wanted to make you something sweet for when you woke up.”

Slipping your hand around his waist, you let your fingers trail up the curve of his bare spine, reaching the peak between his shoulder blades before tickling back down.

“Could’ve done it in the morning,” you reply ambiguously. If Nico is up in the middle of the night, unsettled enough that he had to come down here and physically do something with his hands, it’s not a great sign. Whether he’s unable to sleep from the general events of the past week or something else, you don’t know.

Luckily, he takes the opening you give him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he mumbles, fingers squeezing your shoulder. “Got a call while you were tucking Alex in.”

Dramatic, you gasp. “And you didn’t tell me until now?”

He scoffs, shushing you by reaching down and pinching your ass through the thin cotton of your pajama shorts. Hard enough that it has you jolting, leaping forward just to end up squished even closer to him.

“Hey!” You complain but he just snickers, dropping his hands to grab at the back of your thighs. He hefts you up and onto the counter, fitting his hips between your knees.

“Do you mind?” He asks, “M’trying to tell you something important.”

Clearing your throat, you sit up straighter, hands on his shoulders as you stare intently into those warm eyes of his. Fondly, he shakes his head before continuing.

“Keefe down at the station called,” he says, lips twitching with amusement when you scowl. You know Keefe all too well from the time he arrested you and the boys. No matter how many times you told him you were Nico’s wife, he insisted that it was in his contract with the Devils to hold you until Nico could come get you. The worst part was that he made poor Luke sit on those stupid hard benches even though he’d just been hit by a car.

Teasingly, Nico squeezes your knee. “He said your parents have filed a police report. About a break in at their house and they’re insisting it’s organized crime related. They want him to escalate it even though nothing was reported stolen.”

It worries you a bit, that Nico was up in the middle of the night over something like this. Like he said, nothing was stolen and you know it was him that did it. Keefe can throw away the report, no harm done and they can all move on. Your parents will then know that the police will be of no help to them and hopefully they’ll back down from whatever they were trying to achieve with reporting in the first place.

“He can just get rid of it, can’t he?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “It’s not a big deal right? Like you said, you didn’t technically break anything or steal anything.”

Almost pityingly, Nico purses his lips, head tilting to the side like a sad puppy. His thumb starts to draw soothing circles into the bend of your knee and your breath catches in your throat, wondering what the hell could be in that report that has him this worried.

“I can have him throw it out, yeah.” He says gently, “But this still means they know baby. Or they at least know I’m up to something and they’re willing to fight back.”

Oh, you think dumbly. Of course that’s what this all meant. You feel a little stupid for not thinking it earlier. Why else would they go to police? They’re making an effort (a futile one at that) to take a stand against the Devils, against Nico, against you.

“So?”

He takes a deep breath. “I could tell Keefe to throw it out and we carry on with the plan. They’d know after that, that I’ve got the cops in my pocket. Or I let him escalate it.”

Toying with the knot of his apron, you frown. “What happens if he escalates it?” At your worried tone, Nico cups your face, the pad of his thumb tracing under your sleep swollen eyes.

“Nothing bad,” he assures, “S’just we didn’t account for it. If Keefe escalates though, we could get into the station for interviews and statements. Hear directly from them what they think they know about us.”

It sounds like a good thing. Nico had been plotting how to get direct information out of them. You’ve been using Johnny and Alex to try and do it. This way is so much simpler and you don’t have to risk your parents noticing the two men suddenly tailing them everywhere. Except Nico is still looking at you like it’s not a good thing. Dark eyebrows furrowed in worry, bottom lip between his teeth as he anxiously waits for you to say something.

“Isn’t that good?” You ask. “You could get Keefe to give you answers to everything.”

“Yeah I could,” he shrugs, a little indifferent. “But I’m not going anywhere without you by my side and I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to be that close to them.”

You’ve never really considered yourself to be an aggressive person. You can be protective and mean when pushed a little too far, and yeah you maybe have killed a person or two but that was all self defense. You can confidently say however, that you’ve never had the downright urge to hurt someone with your bare hands.

You could right now though, you think. Cuteness aggression must be a real thing because the overwhelming need to take Nico’s precious face between your hands and squeeze him until he pops has rushed through you. This is what the big fuss was about? He’s up in the middle of the night making your favorite dessert because of this?

Nico’s always made you feel so special and loved, like you’re the most important thing to ever walk the Earth, but this is a new high for him, you think.

“Neeky,” you murmur, holding the sides of his face with gentle fingers despite your brain telling you to pinch and poke violently at the dimpled scar on his cheekbone. “I’m not afraid of them. Especially not if you’re going to be there with me. Anything they could say about me or you, it doesn’t matter. We know us. I know you. They’re not going to change that ever.”

He’s still for a moment, lips parted as he takes a deep breath. His gaze flickers between yours like he’s trying to decide if you’re being serious. It’s almost devastating to think that he was willing to give up this good deal because he was concerned of how it’d affect you. He didn’t want you to hear terrible things and get hurt.

Even if it meant making his job harder. Putting the boys in risky spots when now they won’t have to. You shouldn’t be surprised though. After all, he argued with you in Vancouver when you tried to make him promise that he’d protect Luke and Jack before you. Even then he never fully agreed, just let you talk until time was up and you had to get moving.

He’s always putting you first.

“I-I don’t want you to be hurt by this.” He insists. “We don’t know what they’re going to say and I can’t protect you from mean words. Not as much as I’d like to.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging his face down until you can smash your lips to his. He makes a high pitched sound in the back of his throat, his hand slipping around your waist to draw you closer to him.

“Escalate it,” you tell him, the words just a murmur against his lips before you’re pecking at them again. “I trust you Nico.”

He groans, surging forward to kiss you again. Warm hands trail up your thighs, slipping under your pajama shorts to grab at your ass. He pulls you to the edge of the counter, your knees hiking up by his waist. Swiftly, you find the knot at the back of his apron and pull it loose, breaking apart long enough for you to lift the strap over his head. He doesn’t complain when you drop it haphazardly to the kitchen floor, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You trace the muscles there, the dips of his shoulder blades. His skin is overly warm the way it always seems to be. Even in the frigid air of the alps he radiated a heat you’ve never had. Underneath all that warmth though, your fingers find the knots in his back, tight lumps from days of stress, of apparently not sleeping enough, of choking down black coffee to keep himself focused.

“You’re all tense,” you murmur into his mouth, Nico humming absentmindedly as he tucks his face into your neck. Like the rest of him, his lips are too warm on your pulse, his teeth biting a mark of heat there that blossoms down your body, spreading like wildfire. “My poor baby, all worked up.”

He groans at your teasing, rising on to his toes and shifts his hips forward to grind the bulge of his cock into your center.

“Course I’m fucking worked up,” he says into your collarbone where he’s stretched your shirt down your shoulder. “What was it you said the other day? Something about being small…”

“Oh that,” you giggle, massaging your fingertips into his tight muscles. He groans, the sound devastatingly beautiful in how it rattles out of his throat. “I think it was something more about you not being small.”

He hums, content and flattered, and you lock your legs around his hips, balancing precariously on the edge of the counter to grind against his hard cock. “And I stand corrected.”

A thread in the collar of your shirt snaps, drawing you back from him with an affronted gasp. Nico does the same, a wolfish smile on his face when you pout at the loose neck of your shirt. It’s technically his shirt, one you’ve been stealing since the first time you ever slept at his place though so it is practically yours. And now he’s gone and messed it up.

“Nico,” you whine, “you stretched it out.”

Pleased with himself, he blinks those pretty brown eyes at you. “S’not gonna be the only thing stretched out, huh?”

It’s a terrible joke. Actually horrendous and even he seems to think so by the way his own nose scrunches in distaste. But then you’re both giggling, cupping his face and drawing him down until your smiling lips are messily pressed together.

“Alex asleep upstairs?”

You hum in confirmation, knowing that he’s still tucked into the bed in his room, exactly how you left him after you laid with him until he fell asleep earlier. You had enough mind to check on him in your search for Nico earlier, worried that maybe your fiancé was up and soothing him from a particularly bad dream. He’s been on edge lately, more than usual with all that’s going on so you didn’t hesitate to follow him upstairs after dinner when he asked you to tuck him in, ignoring the amused smirks coming from Timo and Nico.

Speaking of.

“Timo?” You mumble, letting out a noise of protest when Nico blanches, pulling back from you with terrified eyes. “What?” You asks, heart suddenly thumping nervously.

“Baby we are not- M’not stretching out Timo.”

“Oh my god!” You groan, shoving at his chest. “No I was asking if he went home, oh my god.”

Disgusted, you shiver with a frown, physically shaking off the idea. You love Timo, really you do. And he knows practically everything about you and Nico, even in your private life, but that’s too far. Way too far. The reason you’ve always been able to go to him about stuff like this is because of the fact that he’s simply your best friend. There’s never been anything there but that.

Nico’s whole body slumps with relief, dropping his forehead to rest against yours as his eyes flutter shut. “Oh thank fuck,” he gasps, “I was honestly about to throw up.”

You frown. “I think you’ve maybe ruined the mood Hischier.”

He blinks open his eyes, annoyed as he swiftly slips a hand under the flimsy fabric of your shorts, fingers immediately coming in contact with your bare pussy. Instinctively, you shift into the rough pads of his fingers, mouth dropping open in a soft moan.

“Ruin the mood my ass,” he jests, but then his face softens and he touches a gentle kiss to your lips. “Do you want to just go to bed baby?”

You bat your eyelashes at him. “No, I want you to fuck me.”

A sly grin takes over his face. “Right here? Want me to fuck you just like this?” He punctuates the question with a slow rub of his middle and ring finger in a circle on your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter closed, mouth dropping open with a soft breath of pleasure. But-

“No I want-on the couch Nico.”

You can see the face he makes even with your eyes closed just by the displeased tone of his voice. Well that and the way his fingers have stopped their ministrations, stoic between your legs. “The couch?”

Sure enough when you blink your eyes open, he’s frowning down at you like this is the biggest inconvenience of his life. You grip his shoulders, kneading your fingers into the knots there and his demeanor shifts, lips parting in a content moan.

“You’re already too tense baby. Let’s go to the couch, please?”

He offers no rebuttal, planting a hand on your ass and slipping the other down your thigh as he stands with you plastered to his chest. Abandoning the mess of half made tiramisu on the kitchen counter, Nico navigates into the dark living room with you, laying sweet kisses to your temple and cheek as he goes.

Somewhat graciously, Nico drops you into the overly stuffed cushions, chuckling at the little “oof” you let out as you flop into the couch.

“Undress for me,” he instructs in a quiet voice, nodding to your shorts as he goes to work on his own bottoms. You don’t bother with the pathetic excuse of a shirt you’ve got left, simply letting it hang low on your chest as you wiggle out of your pajama shorts.

Nico’s undone the knot on his pants now, dropping them down his legs and kicking them off to the side. Even in the dim light of the living room he looks so good, all dark body hair and thick muscles, the effects of his stupid black coffee diet already apparent in the smaller pudge of his stomach. Upset about it, you splay your hand out under his belly button, the coarse hair of his happy trail tickling your fingers as you admire him with a pout. From the tip of his fluffy bed head all the way down to his thick thighs, cock hanging hard and heavy between them. Noticing the absence of his boxers, you laugh and snuggle back into couch when he lays himself on top of you.

“Not much for us to take off, is there?” You comment as he settles back on his haunches. His hands travel up your thighs, squeezing at them appreciatively before spreading them wider. Compliant, you let him drape them over his hips, knees parted to his liking. It only takes him a moment to shove your shirt up, just high enough for you boobs to peek out at him.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he replies, palming at your chest, the skin of his hands hot and calloused. “Was just waiting for you to jump me.”

You raise an amused eyebrow. “Oh really?” He nods, a close lipped smirk on his face as he traces the inside of your thighs again. “Should’ve been taking care of you huh? My poor Neeky, so stressed and worked up.”

His eyelashes flutter prettily at your words, a hand dropping from groping at your thighs to wrap around his heavy cock. Nico’s body is strong over yours when he shifts forward, bracing himself on his elbow above your head. Giddily, you tangle your hands in his hair and bring his mouth down to yours, parting your lips for him when the soft, slick sounds of him working his hand up and down his cock fill the otherwise silent room.

Never one to indulge in his own palm, he’s quick to tease the thick head of his dick through your wet folds. There’s no real rush to his movements but you feel like you only get a moment or two to breath in the air he exhales against your lips before he enters you in one swift, solid movement of his hips. Whatever shallow breathes you’d managed to inhale get caught in your throat, so full it’s like there’s no room for any air to fit around the space Nico’s taking up in your body.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, voice heavy and rough in your ear. Lazily, he presses wet kisses to your jaw as you hitch your legs around his waist and force yourself to take deep, relaxing breathes. “Fuck you feel good baby.”

“God Nico,” you gasp after a beat, turning your head to capture his lips. All at once he’s licking into your mouth, drawing his hips back and finding a slow but bruising pace of fucking into you. You slide a hand down his back, finding those same knots and tense muscles you’d poked at in the kitchen, now flexing with effort, and massage your fingers into them again.

A whimpered noise comes from the back of his throat, almost pained sounding but more pleasure filled than anything else. Your knees shake with it, the drag of his cock and the gruff of his voice so attractive it burns you from the inside out, pulls at every sensitive part of who you are.

“Feels good,” he grunts through a rattled breath. You keep going, fingers aching as you dig into all the tense spots of his back, and Nico - god Nico makes these raw little groans with each one, jolting and jumping when you catch a particularly tender spot. It throws off the rhythm he’d been fucking you with but you don’t even care. The startled, sporadic juts of his hip work just fine if not better, whatever intensity they’re missing being made up for with the pretty sounds he’s making.

“M’sorry I didn’t take care of you sooner,” you coo at him, scratching your nails at his scalp. Goosebumps run down his skin and he lets out a disbelieving laugh. His eyes are inky dark and wet when they meet yours, pupils blown so wide you might see a perfect reflection of yourself in them if the room weren’t so dark.

“Shhh, you’re perfect.” He assures, sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth when your thumb circles a solid knot of muscle on his lower back, right where his spine first starts to curve down to his ass. The pain must be good though because neither of you miss the way his cock twitches appreciatively. “Fuck, taking care of me now aren’t you? Doing it so good too. Letting me have you like this, dead in the middle of the fucking night.”

You don’t bother giving a real answer. You know what his rambling means, when his accent bleeds in thicker and his heavy tongue lets every thought on his mind drip out. If you ever wanted words out of Nico, you know by now that you can get them out of him when he’s on verge of coming. Whatever block in his head that silences him under normal conditions falls away as soon as he’s laid bare like this. When he’s with you, vulnerable in one the most terrifying yet exhilarating ways.

Where he knows he can trust you, can just be with you. Somewhere you’ll always take care of him, hold him and make him feel good no matter the time of day.

He’s got you and you’ve got him.

~~~~

You’ve been in this interrogation room before.

The slick, silver table and metal chairs that are nowhere near comfortable. Vulnerable and exposed in the air that’s just on the far side of too cold. Above your head, the vent rattles with the constant hum of the air conditioning system.

You remember that from when you sat at this table directly across from Nico, shy under his mafioso stare as you admitted to being an accomplice in the hit and near-run of Luke.

Today Nico sits next to you though, his knee touching your thigh where his legs are spread out wide. A possessive hands rests on the inside of your thigh, not commanding or patronizing, but instead a comforting weight. Solid and soothing.

Across the table, Keefe is fielding the brunt of your fiancé’s attitude today. In his own place of work, sat at the interrogation table he typically mans, the sheriff looks small compared to Nico’s looming presence.

“They’ll be here in about twenty minutes,” Keefe says, sliding the file over to Nico. The tab of the  manila is labeled with the first initials of your parents and their last name, the sight of it making your stomach tighten with anxiety. You hate that name, hate that’s it’s been attached to you for so long even though you haven’t been in that family in a long time.

You don’t want to rush your wedding with Nico, but you can’t wait until the day you get to legally change your name on everything. When you’ll finally match him, and Alex too, and even Moose. You don’t doubt that you’re an apart of the family, don’t feel left out or anything, but it’ll be nice to share that with your boys.

“This is all they shared?” Nico asks, free hand flipping the file open. “Pretty thin.” He sits forward to start reading the police report, eyes ghosting over most of it before he’s presenting it to you.

“We didn’t expect it to go anywhere so we never followed up,” Keefe explains, “Besides, they didn’t seem to eager to be sharing a lot of detail.”

Yeah, because they’re liars. Leaning your elbow on the table, you lay your palm over the edge to keep the a/c from blowing it anywhere and read over the statements. Much to your annoyance, Nico and Keefe are right. Your parents barely even gave enough information for this to be fileable. The date, where they were when it happened (out on an errand, how cryptic), and what they noticed. Nothing stolen or broken, but things moved around and paper burned in their sink. No sign of forced entry.

“This is nothing,” you sigh, closing the folder and giving it back to Nico. “They won’t say where they were or what was destroyed.”

Keefe raises an eyebrow, looking from Nico to you and then back. “Do I need to know what was destroyed?”

Nico makes a face, shaking his head. “It was all fake documents,” he says, patting the inside of your thigh. “It’ll be fine baby. We’re going to listen in to their questioning. Keefe’s got some stuff I told him to make sure to ask, we’ll figure out what they’re up to.”

Keefe nods in agreement, picking up the file and you all stand from the table. Wrapping Nico’s leather jacket tighter around yourself, he guides you out of the room and out into the hall. Moose perks up from where you left him sitting by the door to the interrogation room, coming to your side when Nico whistles at him. Intrigued, Keefe watches Moose flank to the side Nico’s not at, the two of them standing protectively around you. He doesn’t say anything though, instead just leading you a few feet down into another open doorway.

The room is small, roughly the size of a large storage closet with a few chairs lined up. But the two way glass covering the far wall overlooks the room you’d been sat in not even five minutes ago.

“Can settle in here,” Keefe motions to the seats. “If you need anything Nico, they’ll be an officer posted outside the door. Just knock on it and she’ll come in.”

“Thanks Keefe,” Nico nods, nudging you into the room. You settle into one of the chairs, Moose sitting politely by your feet. “Appreciate it.”

The two men share a hard handshake, Keefe giving you a half wave before he’s stepping out of the room. You shift in the tall chair to face the two way glass as the door clicks shut behind you. You can feel when Nico turns to look at you.

“You doing ok?”

Running your fingers through Moose’s fur, you nod. You were never nervous for this. Maybe anxious, but more so in the way that you’re ready for answers. You’ve already had an awkward, panic inducing interaction with them and you’re not going to have one again. Whatever care you held for them vanished after that day.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you promise, offering him a soft smile over your shoulder. “Annoyed with them but I don’t- I don’t really have any feelings towards them anymore.”

Nico comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in to kiss your temple. Moose’s tail wags, tilting his snout up to look at Nico and then he’s resting his head on your thigh where he can see you both.

“Hi Müsli,” he murmurs, chin digging into your shoulder and his fingers scratch softly between Moose’s eyes. Softer this time, he asks, “What about your nonna?”

Until now, you hadn’t been thinking of her. It’s a little too much if you’re being honest. So much went down that day and so much has happened since then that you haven’t wanted to think about your grandmother. If you don’t think about her, you don’t have to think about what she may or may not know. She was shocked to see you that day in the deli, so obviously she didn’t have any idea of your death being fake, but she hasn’t reached out since. You don’t want to think about what that means.

“I guess we’ll see right?” You shrug, but an ugly feeling is bubbling in your gut. A little anxious, a little scared, but more disgusted. Everything about this situation has just left a bad taste in your mouth.

Nico hums, mouth parting with words that never get spoken because the muffled sound of the door opening on the other side of the wall comes through the low speakers. You both sit up, attention turning to the glass where Keefe is guiding in the two people you’ve been waiting for.

“No nonna,” Nico comments, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. He gives them a reassuring squeeze, thumbs pressing into the tense spots on your neck.

Your mother is the first to sit at the table, a modest black dress on her frame that looks like it’s meant for church more than it is a casual Friday at the police station. Like the fabric of her clothes, she sits cold and stiff, purse balanced on her crossed legs.

“Yikes,” Nico murmurs, “Katja Hischier anyone?”

Which he’s not exactly wrong. While you’d say your mom was a lot warmer than Katja seemed to be, they both exude the same haughty, superior air. Your mother especially now that you’ve become public enemy number 1.

By now your father has sat down too, awkwardly folding his hands on the cool metal of the table. Keefe doesn’t so much as glance at the two way mirror as he moves to sit across from them, an unknown officer with him. They take a moment to settle, the officer pulling out a blank form from the folder and a pen.

“Thanks again for coming in today,” Keefe starts and your mother’s lips twitch into a polite smile. “I’ll try to make this quick so you’re not spending all day here. Why don’t you just walk me through the initial report again.”

Nico’s fingers continue to massage at your shoulders and neck, gentle but strong in their touch. He doesn’t speak, any words unnecessary when his hands, the ones that always know how to hold you together, do enough to keep you grounded. A silent support as the two of you intently analyze the scene happening in front of you.

“Well last week we returned home to find that someone had been in our house,” your mother states, her tone plain and simple. Like it’s all that clean cut. Someone broke in so the cops should arrest them. No further details needed.

A silent pause. Keefe and the officer, pen hovering over the paper share a look. “Do you remember what day?”

Your mother purses her lips. “Thursday.”

Another awkward pause. The officer writes down the date on his sheet. Your father shifts uncomfortably and Keefe clears his throat. “What time did you arrive home?”

“It was dark,” she responds immediately. “After dinner hours.”

You roll your eyes. “Dinner is six o’clock,” you murmur to Nico. It’s been dinner at six every day of your life until you went to college. No matter the date, weather, holiday, birthday, whatever dinner was always served at six.

“What?” Nico asks, his fingers pausing their massaging. “Everyday dinner was served at 6. Even if we ate out, it was timed so that we’d be seated and ordering at 6. She’s being cryptic for some reason.”

He hums thoughtfully, squeezing your shoulders again. Methodically, he drags his hands down your biceps, flexing his hands as he goes. On the other side of the wall, Keefe purses his lips.

“What do you consider dinner hours?”

Indignant, your mother scoffs. “Anytime after dinner?” Her expression has gone sour, neck growing splotchy with agitation and you revel in for a moment. At least until your father sits forwards, offering a placating smile.

“It was probably around 7 or 7:30 that night. We got home and found the rug in our living room messed up, pictures and things moved around. Something was burnt in our sink.”

Finally, the officer starts scribbling down actual useful information and Keefe’s large shoulders slump with relief. Even as your mother side eyes your father, tongue in cheek.

“Was there any sign of forced entry?”

“No sir,” your father replies, blowing out a sigh. “The door was locked even. We checked the windows and other exits, nothing. We have no idea how someone got in.”

Your mother scoffs, rolling her eyes. She crosses her arms over her chest, foot beginning to shake restlessly under the table. “We know how he got in.”

He. Nico. So she does know.

“Oh,” Keefe hums, “you do? Nothing was stated in the initial report?”

She takes the chance to argue her case, to prove that she’s right just as she always has. You’re all to familiar with the way her nose flares, eyes narrowed in challenge as she speaks yet it still takes your breath away.

You can picture her standing over you as you sat on the staircase, telling her about how you’d failed your elementary Spanish test that week because you kept mixing in Italian phrases instead and she’s muttering that she knew it, that she knew it’d be too much for you, that you couldn’t handle it all.

“It was that mafia running around here,” she says matter of fact. “The only person who’d be interested in our home, our lives would be that Hischier man.”

Behind you, Nico makes a pleased noise, like the disdain dripping off her tongue is the biggest compliment. His breath is hot on your cheek when he leans in, a giggle in his voice. “That Hischier man huh? Sounds pretty legit.”

You shake your head in amusement, turning to catch his smile for a chaste kiss. “You are pretty legit Hischier.” You tell him, warmth blooming in your chest when his smile widens, and he starts thumbing at the hinge of your jaw.

“Hischier?” Keefe asks, almost incredulous. “As in Nico Hischier?”

“Yes!” Your mother insists, gaze a little wild. “You know him then? And what he does?”

“Yes ma’am we know all about Nico Hischier.”

The two of you snicker under your breath. She has no idea just how much Keefe knows about Nico and the Devils.

“Then you’ll know that this wasn’t a coincidence or anything,” your mother says triumphantly, shaking her head. “No he’s had an eye on us for a while. A few years ago my husband here was being followed, kept feeling like someone was watching him. He’d see that Hischier guy all over town almost everyday. And then it just stopped. Now all of sudden our house is messed up and no one can find any sign of who did it. It’s sneaky mafia business is what it is.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh, rubbing at your eyes. “Following my dad? I think she might actually be insane.”

Except Nico is suspiciously quiet. Eyes narrowed, you slip out of the chair to look at him, hands on your hips. He’s still leaning into the chair you were sat on, eyes wide and innocent. Too innocent.

“Oh Nico,” you mumble, exasperated. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” He insists, holding his hands up in defense. “I didn’t do anything technically. I just maybe was keeping an eye on them.”

You’re not even surprised. Despite laughing at how absurd your mother sounded accusing him of tailing your father, you should’ve known better. It’s not the first time you’ve become privy to him tailing someone unknowingly. He’d done it to you back when you were in school.

“When?” You ask, unimpressed.

He shrugs. “When we were broken up. I just- it wasn’t even about them, I was making sure that you were okay. I wanted to know that you didn’t go back to them.” 

Of all the reasons, you didn’t think that would be why. He was following them for you? When you weren’t together and thought you meant nothing to him? Was he following you then too? When he had no right to? Though you suppose he always had that right with you because something about the thought of him still being with you back then is nice. All that time you spent feeling so scared and alone, abandoned by family and friends but worst of all abandoned by him. He had your back even then.

You wonder why he didn’t just ask Timo about you. He was still your friend at the time, the one you turned to for everything and maybe you weren’t the best of friends back to him, but he was always there. Always just a text or call away. Like he was right there. A sour thought bleeds into your brain.

Was Timo tailing you? When you thought he was just being a friend did Nico actually have him watching you? You know Timo and Nico had a strained relationship after the breakup but you also know that Timo is undeniably loyal to Nico. He’s picked him over you before. Why wouldn’t he have done it then, even if they were on rocky ground?

“We can’t talk about this here,” you shake your head, moving back to your seat and ignoring the guilty droop of his eyes. “We already missed things.” Settling back in your chair, you cross your arms over your chest but you don’t shake off Nico’s hand when it sweeps your hair to the side, finding its resting place on the back of your neck.

“And your daughter,” Keefe says, flipping through the folder like he’s looking for something. “Y/n, she’s his target is what you’re saying?”

You have no idea what she said before to bring you into the conversation but you don’t care right now. Eagerly, you lean forward, not wanting to miss a single word about what she says of you.

“No not a target just-“ she makes a frustrated sound. “She had been seeing him a few years ago. Before he was following my husband. We heavily disapproved and they both knew it. Now he’s retaliating against us because we told our daughter about who he really is.”

The air feels tacky and sticky in your throat, stuck like it’s trying to hang around and hear what else she has to say. Because she hasn’t said it yet, that you’re dead. She’s implying it for sure, saying you were with Nico in the past tense, that after they warned you of him that was it. That all of what is coming at them is Nico’s fault, is Nico’s reaction to them stopping your relationship.

Lies, lies, and even more bullshit lies. It’s terrifying, disorienting even that she can do it so easily and without remorse. What else in your life has she lied about and you never knew? Because if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve been with Nico all these years, you’d believe her right now too.

“Would your daughter be willing to give a statement? Tell us what she knows about Hischier and his friends?”

There’s an uncomfortable pause, one that makes your father drop his gaze to the table with what you hope is shame.

“No she wouldn’t,” your mother answers plainly, “we’ve been…estranged with her since everything happened with Hischier. There was a lot of tension and emotions. You know teenage girls and their feelings, they’d rather run than admit they’re wrong about a boy.”

It makes your blood boil. You weren’t a teenager and you weren’t wrong. Your feelings, your emotions were right this whole time. The gut instinct you had at the young age of 21 made a better decision in trusting Nico than hers did in deciding she’d ever be a fit mother.

“So she’s had no contact with you?” Keefe asks and your mother shakes her head. “Has she had contact with Hischier?”

Your mother clicks her tongue. “I don’t believe so, no. My daughter would never make such a dumb decision.”

Ouch, you wince but what can be done. You’re not their daughter. You haven’t been for a long time now. While the reminder hurts, it only throbs dully in that bruised part of your heart. Yeah you lost them, but look at everything you’ve gained.

“Why would Hischier come after you now then? Unless he’s been in contact with her?”

Your father is the one to speak up and you’re grateful. Unlike your mother, he’ll at least give something of significance.

“We ran into her last week at lunch. She was out with another boy and a dog. We tried to talk to her, to ask her how she was doing and about this new man but she freaked.”

Freaked? You freaked? You guess that’s a valid thing to say considering you did well up with tears and almost knock over a table before leaving. But without the context, no that’s not true.

“Freaked how? Did you know she was in town?”

Sighing, he shakes his head. “We had no idea where she’s been. She spoke to my mother for a moment but then got weird. Started to leave and when I tried to tell her to wait she turned her dog at us. This big, vicious thing of a dog. Honestly, it shouldn’t have been around anyone else acting like that. My mother almost had a heart attack.”

As if knowing he’s being talked about, Moose rises from his ball on the floor, tilting his head curiously at Nico.

“Is that you Müsli?” Nico asks teasingly, patting his head. “Vicious thing? Daddy is so proud of you.”

You both know he’s not joking about that. Moose did exactly what he was trained to do. Keep harm away from you at whatever cost. When it comes to protecting you, Moose rivals Nico in his viciousness.

“She just ran?”

“Yes sir,” your father raps his knuckles on the steel table. “The next day the house was broken into. We thought maybe it was no big deal, just something to unnerve us. But then a couple days ago we drove by our cemetery and found something else.”

Oh, you think giddily. They noticed almost right away. You wish you’d thought to leave a camera or something at the site. You’d pay good money right now to see their reactions, the horror on your mother’s face when she saw the scripture and devil horns. You bet she grabbed at the cross on her neck, bet she backed away like she’d been burned.

“There was a headstone placed there. With our names on it and devil horns.” Your father continues. The sign of Nico and the Devils. The horns that are littered around Jersey courtesy of him and his boys.

“We decided to report the break in after that.” Your mother says, “The threat was clear as day. Everywhere that man goes those horns follow.”

You touch the horns around your neck, pulling them out from under the collar of Nico’s leather jacket to thumb at the metal. Does she know just how true that statement is? Does she know just how many wear those horns for Nico? Does she know that you’re one of them?

“Yes we did some digging,” Keefe responds, looking through the folder again. For what, you’re not sure. “Yesterday some officers just did basic investigating of the neighborhood, looking for any suspects. We saw the gravesite but it appeared another one had been there first. Do you have any relatives buried there?”

That wasn’t in the folder. He wasn’t looking for anything, just a way to bring up the topics and questions Nico specifically asked him for. He even told Keefe that he’d illegally placed the new headstone there.

“No we don’t,” your mother says, frowning. “Another headstone? Are you sure?”

“Yes ma’am. It was apparently on the far left plot.”

She makes a noise of realization. “Ah yes we sold that plot after the falling out with our daughter. I’m not sure if anyone new bought it and buried a relative there but it wasn’t us.”

And back to square one on the lying. There’s no way they sold that plot back to the cemetery and then didn’t notice that headstone with your name on it. The dates themselves gave it away. They knew when you picked Nico over them.

“That’s bullshit,” Nico suddenly spits. He’s stepping away from you then, pacing back and forth as he glares daggers at your parents through the glass. “Everything they’ve said this whole time hasn’t been true! Including the part about you being dumb.”

It startles you for a moment, seeing him like that. You know angry Nico, felt the sting of his harsh words and mean eyes. You heard the way he mocked you, cold and brutal when you defied him in Switzerland. You always through he could be meanest when he’s scared but now you think this is it. He’s not scared, not nervous, he’s just unfathomably angry. His neck and cheeks are turning splotchy red, cheeks hollowed by the tight clench of his jaw, but it’s his eyes that are the most telling.

They’re so dark, so unlike the warm honey ones you’re used to. Even when he was mad at you, he’s never looked at you like that before. You’re jarringly informed of why so many people are scared of him.

“I know that Nico,” you say carefully, rising to your feet. Tentatively, you approach him with a hand reaching out to touch him. “I know it’s bullshit Nico, it’s ok.”

He halts, gaze turning to you with such ferocity your heart stutters. “It’s more than bullshit,” he hisses but he lets you touch him, doesn’t move as you take a hold of his wrist. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. You- I mean imagine if they knew that it was you that figured this all out. It was you that got me into their house. That everything coming for them, even this interrogation is you playing games with them. Because you’re smarter than them.”

“I know,” you assure, cupping his face in your other hand. He presses into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. Nico looks so sweet like this, standing over you with his dark eyelashes resting prettily on the apples of his cheeks, leaning into you with the gentlest of movements. You wonder how everyone thinks he’s so hard to read sometimes, especially with what just happened. Because if he opened his eyes right now, you’d know just how upset he is. They’re his tell, always. His eyes and eyebrows have always given him away.

“Imagine how stupid they’ll feel when they realize.” You murmur. “We’ll get to see the looks on their faces when we tell them that the cops are with us. That the whole city is with us and they have nothing left.”

Taking even breaths through his nose, Nico blinks his eyes open. Under his lowered eyebrows he still looks angry, but his gaze is warm and loving again, shining with adoration when he looks at you. “They’re liars Nico. And we’re going to use that against them.”

“Yeah we are,” he promises.

You press your thumb into his clenched jaw, urging him to relax with slow circles. “But you’re not a liar so I need to know why you didn’t tell me you tailed my father.”

His eyebrows soften with guilt. “Because it was pathetic, wasn’t it? Me acting like I was protecting you when I was the one that had hurt you? I had no right to do that and I- I didn’t want you to see how much I failed.”

Your eyebrows knit in concern. Pathetic? Failed? Does he not remember how pathetic and useless you were without him? That you consumed more alcohol in that month than you have your entire life, even now. That you compared every man you met to him, that he followed you everywhere. The smallest of things reminded you of him and once that reminder was there it festered until you were actually envisioning him in front of you.

“You-what Nico? You didn’t fail me, you came back for me. I didn’t- I never tried to get you back. If anyone was pathetic then it was me.”

His frown deepens, dimples popping sadly at the downturn angle of his lips. “No I had just broken your heart baby. You’d lost everything and then I made you think you’d lost me. That’s- none of that was your fault.”

You had lost everything at the time. Not because you’d been disowned by your family and lacked genuine friends, but because you’d lost him.

“Timo,” you murmur, almost afraid to ask. “Did you have him follow me?”

Nico blanches, pulling back from your touch like it’s just stung him. Taking ahold of your wrists, he squeezes them so tight your fingers tingle. “No I didn’t. Timo wasn’t- he wasn’t my friend then. Not really. He was so pissed at me. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, burning with embarrassment. “You were tailing my dad and I know now that you always intended in coming back from me so I thought maybe you were having him keep an eye on me. He was- he did a lot for me then Nico. And it wouldn’t be the first time you had one of the boys follow me to make sure I was okay.”

Almost desperate, he brings your hands up to his lips, pressing a smattering of tender kisses to your palms. His beard scratches at your fingers. “Timo was there for you because he loves you. He didn’t do much with me then. We could barely sit in the same room together. And I was doing jobs on my own so he was free a lot.”

You let out a sigh of relief, shoulders slumping as you accept his answer. He may have kept things from you before but he’s never lied. As soon as you ask him for something, he always gives his all.

“Okay,” you nod, and he presses one final kiss to the ring on your left hand. “Sorry I just had to know.”

“S’okay,” he promises, watching you for a moment. The questioning happening behind you has long been over, Keefe and his officer now sharing notes, waiting for you and Nico to emerge. Then he’ll hand over the information your parents gave and you’ll have another one up on them. “Can ask me anything, anytime baby, you know that.”

“I know,” you promise, squeezing his hand. “We should get going. We have to meet Alex and John.”

Nico hums in agreement but doesn’t move to leave. Instead he slips his hands out of yours, wrapping them around your shoulders and caging you into his chest. You melt into his hold, face tucked into his shoulder and inhale the rich scent of his cologne.

“In a sec,” he mumbles, “need to put more space between your parents and me.”

Which is fine with you.

23 blocks away, Johnny and Alex move silently through the house Nico had bullied his way into last week. Just as he’d entered, they’d come through the front door with guns tucked into their waistbands and black duffle bags over their shoulders. And for the whole hour and half your parents spent being questioned at the police station, they tucked into every crook and cranny of the house, wireless bugs. No visuals will come with but you’ll have constant access to the sounds in their home.

Johnny is finishing up placing the last black microphone onto the inside paneling of the curtain rod when Alex comes into the kitchen, a vase of flowers in hand. He stops at the sink to fill the vase, oblivious to the way Johnny is watching him in confusion.

“What are you doing?” He asks, leaning against the counter. Alex shuts off the water, tastefully rearranging the white roses.

“Y/n asked me to leave them,” he explains, carrying them over to the dining room table. He places the vase at the center of the table, admiring it for a moment. “Are these the flowers she left at the cemetery?”

Johnny purses his lips. “Yup,” he nods, “so I’m guessing they’re not exactly a gift huh?”

Alex steps back, picking up his duffel bag from the kitchen tile and shouldering it. “No I don’t think it is.”

The significance of them goes unspoken. You’re playing the game too, the twisted and demented narratives they’ve been spinning all turning to this tangled mess of paranoia. You want them to know that the Devils have been here again. Maybe they’ll think it was Nico. Maybe they’ll think it was you.

Either way they’ll know. You’re not backing down again.

~~~~

The steaming shower water fogs up the glass doors of the showers, drips down the bathroom mirrors. Nico’s skin is red from it, splotchy in a way that makes you wince. You have no idea how he’s capable of taking such burning hot showers. Though you can’t say much because the steady jet beating down on your skin is cool compared to the heat of his mouth below your ear.

“Fuck Nico,” you whimper, hips jolting forward when his fingers curl up into your g-spot. He presses a hot kiss to your wet skin, voice deep and husky when he goes, “yeah baby? That your spot?”

“Yes, yes right there Nico.”

You arch down into his hand, head pressing into the tiled wall and the claw clip keeping your hair out of the water digs painfully into your scalp. Not that you care. The feeling is dull, almost nothing compared to the way Nico’s fingers are taking you apart. Thick and calloused, they rub brutally at that sensitive spot inside of you, winding up the invisible string that’s still holding you together.

Your hand shakes, the detached shower head in it trembling as your other hand claws at Nico’s shoulder, desperate for something to ground yourself with. The slight slip of your hand doesn’t go unnoticed however.

“Nuh-uh baby,” Nico grunts, the hand on your waist gripping your wrist. He shifts it back up, directs the jet of water directly on to your throbbing clit. Your legs shake with it, body only head steady by the thick thigh he’s got pressed between yours. “Hold it right there for me.”

It’s too much, his voice, sexy and heavy with his accent, his fingers curling relentlessly inside you, his mouth on your neck, the water stimulating your clit. You feel overpowered in the best way, helpless to him even if you’re the one holding the shower head. “Please, please, please…” you beg, hips shifting on their own accord. You don’t know whether you should be moving down into his fingers or forward towards the stream of water.

“I know baby,” he mumbles, a little mocking in his sympathy. “Feels so good, doesn’t it?”

Blindly, you nod, gnawing at your bottom lips as that thread of pleasure pulls tighter and tighter in your belly. “Keep that hand still,” he reminds, “you’ll come if you do what I tell you, yeah?”

“Yes Nico,” you gasp, unsure if you’re agreeing with his words or the vigor of his fingers. Placating, he nips at the column of your throat, the muscles in his shoulders and arm flexing with each curl of his middle and ring finger.

“Sound so pretty, sweetheart,” he compliments gruffly, chuckling when your pussy bears down on him. “Can you even hear it? How wet you are for me? Dripping down my wrist. Or how about those little sounds baby? Crying for me like that. It’s too good huh? You need to come?”

You can’t hear it, can’t hear anything except his voice and the blood rushing in your ears. He makes you sound pathetic and desperate though, a whiny and sloppy mess just for two fingers in your hole and it’s so hot. The way he says it with awe, never mocking or degrading, but honored.

That thread in you snaps, the coil of your orgasm spinning out in your core in a rush of white hot pleasure. You lose track of holding the shower head exactly where he told you, your limbs shaking and trembling as you pulse around his fingers and claw at his back.

Faintly, you feel his lips moving against your ear, his hand leaving your hip to cover the one you had holding the shower head. He’s gently with it, drawing your hand back and then moving it in slow circles, dragging out the last aftershocks of your orgasm.

His hand stills, letting your trembling one let go in favor of holding his bicep that’s still flexing with the lazy drag of his fingers in your pussy. The static in your head fizzles out as he returns the shower head to its holder, softly gripping your side again.

“You okay?” He murmurs, kissing your damp temple. “Done?”

Tongue heavy, you blink up at the ceiling and nod, then mumble out “mhm Nico.” Another kiss to the bulb of your nose, one to your chin, his lips whispering light apologies as he slips his hand from between your thighs, you wincing in overstimulation. You’re still staring blankly at the ceiling when he grips your chin between two fingers, tilting your head down to look at him and you frown at the sticky feeling on the pads of his fingers.

“Ew Nico you did not-“

He buttons his mouth to yours, licking into your slack mouth and giving you a taste of yourself. Your complaint from earlier goes forgotten. When did he stuff his fingers in his mouth and lick them clean?

“Tell me for real now,” he says when you part. “Are you okay? With everything?”

It’s an odd place for him to be checking in, an odd time too with the way your thighs are still quaking but it’s sweet too. Because to him there’s never a bad or weird place to make sure you’re okay.

“I am,” you promise. His gaze is soft and imploring when you finally get your brain to focus, stirring with arousal but more concerned with you than himself. “I know it’s a lot- or it should be a lot- but it doesn’t feel like it. I just feel like I’ve earned this I guess.”

“You have,” he encourages, wide palms cupping either side of your face. “You’ve earned the right to break the Geneva Convention I think.”

“Wow,” you giggle, “permission from the Swiss himself. Maybe I will then.”

He chuckles, all deep and rumbly in his chest as he touches his forehead to yours, wet hair hanging over his dark eyebrows. “Before we do that, you don’t need anything, right? Like you’re not feeling…sad again?”

Sad. Depressed. The word you’ve never let him use even though it was true. It’s always that you were sick or unwell because you were. You took meds though and you went to the doctor and you’re better now. For some reason though that word gets stuck in your throat, has been lodged there since the first day you came out of therapy with an official diagnosis and prescription. And when Nico saw it, asked you what it was for you couldn’t even say the word then. You simply showed him the slip.

“I’m not…” you pause, unable to look into his eyes as you clear your throat, feel the words on your tongue. If you can’t say it, it’s because it’s still there right? You don’t feel like it’s there though. This is the happiest you’ve been in years. So you need to say it.

You inhale, steel yourself. “I’m not depressed.”

His eyebrows shoot up, eyes widening in surprise that you’ve actually said it out loud. But then he goes soft again, shock turning to awe and his eyes shine with happiness when you finally meet his gaze again.

“That’s good baby,” he says with earnest. “That’s so good. M’so proud of you.”

Your ears go hot, body flush with heat. “It’s you. I feel better with you. Like you’re so solid all the time I don’t ever have to worry.”

He’s silent for a moment, dimples sinking into his cheeks as the two of you listen to the lukewarm water splatter into the opposite shower wall. Nico butts his nose into yours. “I- I’m glad. You know I’ve got you.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “No pressure or anything Neeky.”

He laughs, eyes crinkling fondly before he’s closing his mouth to yours again. Nico kisses you into the shower wall for a few more minutes, strong and solid just like you said he was, like he’s telling you just what he thinks of the ‘pressure’ of taking care of you. The shower water grows icy though and the two of you get out shivering, fighting over the large fluffy towel hanging on the bathroom door before Nico manhandles you into wrapping up with him.

You spend the rest of the morning giggling and kissing him, sharing pecks and teasing comments as the two of you dress and get Moose ready to go. Still laughing as you pile the dog and Alex into the car, trying not to blush when Alex visibly brightens in the backseat at your bubbly mood today.

That floaty feeling is still there when Nico pulls up behind Timo and Johnny at the cemetery, the two older men already chatting with the groundskeeper. Timo is the first to greet you when you get out of the car, abandoning the conversation to throw his arms out wide and you drop Nico’s hand in favor of skipping over to hug him.

“Oh god I miss you,” you whine dramatically, Moose wondering up lazily behind you to sniff at Timo’s shoes. “We used to see each other everyday and now I’m stuck with him.”

“Oh okay,” Nico says from behind you, his large palm swatting at your ass in a stinging slap. You flinch away from him, pouting as he stares you down through narrowed eyes. Moose makes an unhappy growl in his chest that Nico chooses to ignore. You scratch behind the dog’s ear in appreciation.

“Now who’s being inappropriate in a cemetery,” you mock, slipping up and laughing when his smile widens with delight.

“You’re chipper today,” Timo interrupts, falling into step at your side as you all gather back with Johnny and the groundskeeper. “Good morning?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, leaning into his shoulder and lowering your voice. “It was a really good morning. In the shower specifically.”

He snorts, elbowing you into Nico and your fiancé snatches up your hand in his, a knowing smirk on his face. You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s in on the bit, even if he didn’t explicitly hear you talking to Timo. The conversation stops there, replaced by a new one as Nico greets the man waiting with Johnny.

“Hisch,” he nods, “I was just telling your boys here that I looked into that site. There’s a transaction under that last name of when they bought all three plots but that’s all. Clerk made a note though that about a year ago they came by and looked into the price point of selling back to the cemetery but nothing official happened.”

Nico’s eyebrows stitch into a frown. “They never sold the third one? Is there any record of them laying that headstone there?”

The groundskeeper scratches at his neck uncomfortably. “Nah man. If they sold it, it was done under the table to someone else which you can’t do without approval here. Must’ve been done illegally. And there’s no record of the headstone either. Don’t even know who made it. Must’ve been laid there before I got here though.”

Nico’s jaw ticks, his grip on your hand tightening for a moment. Johnny sighs through his nose, shifting his weight onto one leg. “That’s it? They just did it all illegally and now no one knows anything?”

Helpless, the guy shrugs. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could help but this is my first summer here and I don’t know who even helped those guys out with doing that.”

Almost in sync all four boys huff, clearly annoyed and disappointed at the lack of information they’ve been given. You can feel it radiating off of Nico, the thought that he’s paying this guy for nothing if he can’t help them.

“It’s fine,” you assure the poor groundskeeper who’s already done more than he could. “I mean, lots of things can be done illegally for the right price so just-thanks for your help.”

He smiles in thanks at you, look to Nico imploringly. You’re fiancé waves him off and the guys almost scrambles away, heading back towards the cart he must’ve drove over here to meet Johnny and Timo.

“We’re never going to figure out where that headstone came from,” Timo says, “not unless we get her parents talking.”

Alex perks up. “We have! Well kind of. Johnny and I haven’t listened to all the bugs yet but I mean, we can probably scare them into talking about it right?”

It’s a smart idea, you’ll admit. And Nico must think so too because he tilts his head thoughtfully, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he thinks.

“Could work,” Nico finally agrees. “Maybe get Keefe to call them back in, nonna too this time. Have his question them separately about the grave. Play it off like he��s investigating us so he needs to know where the stones came from. If they think it’ll keep them safe, they might admit who they sold it to.”

The five of you lapse into silence, thinking it over. You saw first hand how your parents lied to Keefe. They must not be too concerned with secrets infringing on their goal of taking down Nico if they blatantly made up stories just days ago. They haven’t spoken to your nonna though, left her waiting in the front area during their questioning but with the right questions she might speak. After all, she has no background with Nico or your relationship with him. All she knows is what your parents told her. And who knows what was true there. Maybe you could even catch them in a lie.

“Let’s head home and start sorting through audio files then,” Johnny finally says, clapping Alex on the back. “Smart idea though kid.”

You’re trudging back to the car when Alex stops, lightly touching your free hand. You look to him, find him pointing to a bouquet of lilies on a gravesite. “Those are nice,” he says casually. “Like for a wedding.”

His sly smile gets you, makes you and Nico both laugh. He reaches around you, flicking Alex on the ear. “Stop prying would ya? This is personal.” You shoo Nico away, taking ahold of Alex’s hand and swinging them between you.

“They are pretty but we already picked flowers.”

Timo and Johnny stop, the three of you barely having time to stop before you’d bump into their backs. They both turn around, eyes wide like they can’t believe what you just said.

“You’ve been wedding planning?” Johnny asks in disbelief. “Finally?”

And well that’s a little offensive because you’ve had a lot going on! You and Nico wanted to enjoy the holidays and bask in your engagement for a bit before jumping into planning. And then you went to Vancouver and that was a mess. With Nico working so much now and you and the boys getting Hischier Enterprises together, you’ve been busy. Not putting off wedding planning or anything. Just busy.

“For your information we’ve done a lot of planning.” You scoff, jabbing at his shoulder.

“Do you have a date yet?” Alex cuts in, “A venue? Am I in the wedding? Is that allowed actually-“

“Okay calm down,” Nico interrupts, giving them all a pointed look. “Nothing has been ordered or reserved or anything, we’ve just agreed on some things. Wedding party not being one of them so don’t even ask.”

Wedding party, you internally wince. That’s going to be the worst part of the wedding you think. That’s a topic you and Nico haven’t even brought up, well aware that there’s going to be overlap in who you both want standing next to you. You have no doubt that all three of the men in front of you will be in the wedding but you have no idea where and with who.

“We have to settle on a date and venue first,” you tell Alex, squeezing his hand. Slowly, you all continue moving to the car, dragging your feet because Moose is taking his time to sniff at every blade of grass before Nico steps on them.

“Sweden is nice,” he offers innocently. “Really nice, especially in the summer. Have you heard of Midsummer?”

“I have,” you nod, “but we don’t know if we want to do something in Europe. We have to figure out guest lists first.”

“I think you could do France,” Timo throws out over his shoulder. “Nina would be over the moon. And it’s nice there.”

Nico, tone a little suspicious is the one to respond. “Since when are you thinking about Nina? Or France?”

It makes you pause, eyeing the back of Timo’s head as he shrugs. You still haven’t had time to talk about his trip to Switzerland. Did he see Nina there? Is that why he’s thinking of her? Does Nico think that Timo dropped in on his family?

“S’just close to home without being in Switzerland, right?” Your best friend deflects. Questioningly, you turn to Nico. He’s frowning at Timo too, cheek flexing as he gnaws at the inside of it. Something is going on there and you have no idea what. But you’ll find out, that’s for sure. Even if it means talking to Nina yourself.

“Doesn’t matter right now anyway,” Nico finally reminds, any playfulness he had from this morning completely gone. “Wedding can wait. We all need to focus on this and that stupid fucking headstone.”

He goes on to remind Johnny of the quickest way to sort through the audio, reminding him to actually let Alex do some of it too so that he can learn the skill. And two sets of ears is better than one. You’ve stopped listening by then though because your phone chirps from the pocket of Nico’s leather jacket, and you dig it out to an email notification.

Not even to your personal email though. It’s to the default, private user email that everyone under Hischier Enterprises is given when you officially hired them. It’s an odd combination of numbers in place of a name, the domain email being one you don’t recognize. You quickly unlock your phone, opening up the notification in the mail app.

They’ll never tell you anything about the headstone. At least no one that’s left in the clerks office. I can help but not right now. Need things to calm down first. Sorry. Be in touch when I can.

-M73

“Nico,” you call, steps faltering as the full message hits you. Whoever this is, however they got your email and know about it all, they’re not a Devil.

“What?” He asks, grabbing both of your arms, crowding around you. “What is it baby?”

You hand him your phone, biting at your bottom lip as the other boys press in around you, shielding you and Nico as he reads over the email. You don’t even know what to say. Not really. That email isn’t listed to anyone public. It’s for clients only meaning it had to come from someone who’s under contract with the Devils. Or really close with a business that is. You think of the tag line at the end. M73.

Your mother was born in 73. Not that you’d ever think she’s helping you. The number is significant to her though. After all it was the passcode to all her things when you were a kid, the pin on her credit card, the combination on the safe in her closet, the code to unlocking her car. The M could be anything of your honest but there’s something about it that sticks out.

“M73,” Nico murmurs, looking up at you. “Who is that? Do you know anyone it could be?”

It stupid. A thought you shouldn’t even have but as the boys pass the phone around you become more and more convinced. Because she wasn’t in that room with your parents. They didn’t want her to know everything, or didn’t want her telling Keefe that your parents faked your death. Maybe she knows something.

“My mom, she was born in 73,” you tell him, still hesitating. “And my nonna, she was married that same year. It was her second husband I think but his name was Mateo and everyone always said how in love she was with him. Like obsessed. She’d talk about him all the time.”

It’s embarrassing the way Nico’s face crumples into a pitying look. Like he doesn’t believe you, like he thinks you’re grasping at straws to salvage something. Maybe you are because it does feel stupid. How would your nonna be able to get ahold of this email? And who would put her in danger in favor of protecting that gravesite?

But it feels right. At least you think it does.

“Baby,” he sighs softly, “this could’ve come from anywhere. It could just be something to throw us off even. I don’t- I don’t know how your grandma would even know what’s going on.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. The thought is almost impossible. She was sick, really sick. Even if she’s capable of travel now, you don’t know how she’d be able to get away from your parents for all of this. You don’t even know if she knows how to send an email if you’re being honest. Still, it’s disappointing to hear, makes you deflate pathetically and you have to swallow hard to get rid of the lump in your throat.

Alex hands your phone back, watching the side of your face intently as you stare at Nico’s shoes. He sighs again, squeezing your biceps as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry baby. Maybe it’s her but we don’t know enough so maybe we should just ignore it for now. Focus on the bugging system and all.”

Numbly, you nod. Focus on the plan, on what you have now. That’s the protocol but as you tuck your phone away, you can’t shake it. You know that message is real, that’s it’s not some joke or distraction. It was done too hastily, too informal. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it sounds like Alex or Jack wrote it. It’s filled with the genuine concern of someone trying to help.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Nico pulls back, eyebrows high on his forehead as he stares blankly at you. “It’s real. I know it is. The message is too rushed and- I don’t know but I know that whoever it is they’re actually trying to help.”

To his credit, Nico doesn’t shoot down the idea even if he’s not entirely convinced. You’ve always had good intuition though, have known to trust your gut. It’s what gave away Rino and Lena in Switzerland. It’s what got you Johnny and Alex. Nico knows that. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to entertain the idea.

“Okay baby,” he shushes, “if you really think so we’ll figure it out, yeah?” He waits for you to nod, for the tension to leave your shoulders before continuing. “We’ll focus on your nonna then, listen to see if she mentions Mateo or her wedding at all. Anything that might connect to the email.”

Grateful, you nod. Then- “or the businesses,” you add, looking to Johnny and Alex. “This email is only accessible to people under contracts with us. If she mentions any of the businesses or clients that could be how she got it.”

It’s a long shot. People of her age aren’t very tech savvy but it’s all you can think of. She’s smart enough to know that if she had to get ahold of you away from your parents, an email could work. And she’d have no shame in asking someone for help, you know that. Maybe she picked up on what the Devils horns on the windows mean. Maybe she went to one of them looking for you.

You ignore the nagging voice reminding you that anyone who stumbles in looking for you or Nico gets reported directly to him.

You have to believe it’s her because there’s no other options.

“We’ll be thorough,” Johnny promises. “Can even listen in with us if you want.”

“Yeah,” Alex pipes up, “you can show me how to do the audio stuff instead of Johnny.”

Letting out a breath of relief, you give him a thankful smile. Alex preens under it, cheeks going red when you press a motherly kiss to his cheek. Before any of them can break away to leave, Nico catches your jaw, makes you look at him.

“I’m trusting you on this,” he says carefully, head tilted in that way that means business, that he’s not at all playing around with this. “I know you’ve got some kind of sixth sense for this but with everything that’s coming, I have to be extra careful, okay?”

Intently, you nod, the action cut short by his grip on your chin.

“M’gonna call in a couple back-ups. Just reinforcements in case we miss something here.”

It’s not a surprise to you. You’ve been at home with him all week, have helped him sort through things in the home office. Including files of potential Devs and prospects. It is a shock to the others though, Timo especially who has never seen Nico call in a prospect before. Not since Luke and he only did that because it was Luke and Jack.

“What? Who?” Your best friend gasps. “And don’t say any of Luca’s friends or whatever from home because I don’t trust those dickheads any further than I could throw them-“

“It’s not them,” Nico interrupts, running a hand through his hair. He releases your jaw, knuckling softly at the curve of your chin, all sweet and tender before looking to Timo. “I would never use Luca’s guys. I’ve got a couple rookies in Utica that look pretty good.”

“Utica?” Timo balks, “you’re bringing up one of them?”

Nico clears his throat. “No, I’m bringing up a couple of them.” He doesn’t expand further than that and no one asks him too. Even if they want to poke at him, beg him for more information. Utica isn’t far from here. He can have the call ups here tomorrow if he wanted. They can all wait.

“Are you sure?” You ask him though, because you already know who he’s been looking at. You didn’t study them as intently, but you read over the files with him, memorized their names and specialities. “They’re still training. Are they ready for this?”

He doesn’t flinch. “They’re going to have to be because we need them.”

You let him tuck you into his side, a protective arm around your shoulder and when the boys all part, Moose breaks from the circle he was sniffing around you all to join at your side. Moving back towards the cars, pace quicker now that you’ve all been thrown by the email and the call-ups, you send a mental prayer out to whoever is listening because S. Nemec and S. Casey have no idea what they’re about to be called into.