#I’ve only been back three days and each day has had something go wrong because they don’t know how to control their emotions

[honeypiehotchner]

Will you be my Valentine? (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This one shot turned out to be a lot longer than I was expecting, hence why it’s being posted today instead of yesterday 😭 (Also the first scene with Garcia is 100% inspired by a TikTok I saw and the idea just spiraled from there)

Summary: Each time a new member of the BAU figured out Hotch had feelings for you...and when he finally told you.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff babes. It’s vile how cute this is

WC: 3.6k

Everyone knew Hotch had it bad from the first day you started working at the BAU.

There was a case on your very first day, so introductions were sparse before you boarded the jet. You met with Hotch, and the two of you talked briefly about how things work in general, though he said you’ll pick most of it up from actual experience.

The case was in Arizona, and it was a long one. But it didn’t take long for Garcia to see right through Hotch.

“So, um. How’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked, twirling her feathery pen back in Quantico.

Hotch shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“What is that in your voice?” Garcia said. She grinned. Say it ain’t so, she thought. Hotch, the Unit Chief, having a crush? This is too good. “Oh my god, you think she’s pretty.”

“Penelope--” he tried to stop her, to tell her she had it wrong because that would be wildly inappropriate, plus, his thinking that you were pretty had nothing to do with--

“Oh, you totally do!” Garcia giggled, ignoring his protests because he was deep in denial. Finally! A crush! “PG out, lover boy.”

He shook his head as she hung up on him, but he knew the blush was evident on his cheeks. He could feel it, so he knew everyone could see it.

Even you, who walked in a second later to ask him a question.

You saw the red tint on his cheeks, but thought nothing of it as he steeled his face once more before listening to your question.

+++

A few months passed since you began at the BAU, and still Garcia was the only one privy to Hotch’s secret. He thought.

“Have a good night,” Hotch said quietly as he passed your desk. You were gathering your things to head out for the night.

“Don’t stay too late,” you teased, shouldering your bag. You noticed he had a fresh mug of coffee in his hand. “You need sleep too, you know.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile as he bounded the steps up to his office. “Sleep well.”

Rossi watched (and heard) this interaction from his office. He waited until he saw you disappear into the elevator before he knocked on Aaron’s door.

“Come in,” Hotch said, not looking up from the paperwork at his desk until he realized it was Dave. “Hey, heading out for the night?”

“Not yet,” Rossi said, sinking down into one of Hotch’s chairs. “So…what are your plans for the weekend?”

Hotch eyed Rossi suspiciously. Every time Rossi began with that, it meant one of three things: 1. He genuinely wanted to know what Hotch had going on this weekend, 2. He wanted Hotch to do something with him, or 3. He was digging.

Digging for what exactly, Hotch never knew. Until Rossi caved and outright asked.

“What do you think of Y/N?”

Hotch shrugged. He continued working on the paperwork to distract himself. “She’s doing really well. She adapted quickly. I’ve been very impressed. Strauss has too.”

Rossi hummed. “Well, that sounded rehearsed.”

Hotch looked up from the papers, giving Rossi a tired stare. “What?”

“I asked what you think of her,” Rossi repeated, smiling smugly. “Not how she’s doing at her job.”

“What’s the difference?” Hotch returned to signing off reports.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Dave sat forward, tapping the desk. “I’m not that dense. And neither are you. You think she’s cute.”

“She’s very pretty,” Aaron answered without hesitation, regretting it immediately because it only gave Rossi more ammo.

“I knew it,” Dave grinned, sitting back again and clasping his hands together. “Well?”

Finally, Hotch put his pen down. “Well what?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aaron grimaced. “You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is if you never tell her,” Rossi pressed. He had lectured Aaron many times on the dangers of never telling a woman how you feel about her. Especially when it was clear she felt the same way.

“It’s inappropriate,” Hotch said, reverting to his usual defense.

“You’re both adults, clearly capable of making your own decisions,” Rossi replied with a shrug. Aaron knew that Rossi was the reason the No Fraternization rule existed, but he also knew Rossi was the first to say how much bullshit that rule was ladened with. “I don’t see the problem.”

Hotch glanced back down, scribbled a signature on Morgan’s report and tossed it aside, opening yours. He paused. “For one thing,” he started, flipping open your folder. “I don’t know how she feels.”

Dave stared at Aaron, wondering if the man across from him was being serious. As it turned out, Aaron was.

“If you saw what I did earlier, then you’d know she does,” Dave said.

Aaron shrugged again. “She’s nice to me because I’m her boss.”

“She’s civil toward you because you’re her boss,” Rossi clarified. “She’s nice because she feels the same way you do.”

Aaron sighed. He knew Dave meant well, but it was exhausting to listen to him. Aaron wanted to say something to you, but at the end of the day, he was your boss, and you his employee. It didn’t sit right with him. And if he ever did say something, that would be the first topic of conversation. It was too complicated.

Not to mention, he had only known you for a few months, and all of that time consisted of work settings -- save a few nights at bars or restaurants with some of the team.

“Ah, I see,” Dave said, nodding slowly. He stood up to leave.

“See what?” Aaron asked before Dave made it to the door.

“You’re too far in your head about this,” Dave said quietly. “Once you get out, you’ll know what to do.” And he left.

Aaron stared down at your report, your perfect handwriting. It looked far better than his, and miles better than Reid’s. It was very clearly yours, too. It fit your personality.

He closed the folder. The rest could wait until morning.

+++

Not long after Hotch’s talk with Rossi, Morgan was the next to put the pieces together -- and say something about it.

On the jet returning home from yet another case, everyone slept, except Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid curled up on the couch. Emily and JJ fell asleep in their seats, and you had taken over two other seats to stretch out. No one minded. Morgan gave you his jacket, against your protests. Hotch wished he had given you his, but Morgan had beat him to it.

Morgan noticed Hotch watching you wistfully while you slept, looking up every now and again from his tablet to check on you. Hotch’s eyes shot toward you impossibly fast every time you moved, watching for a moment to be sure you were alright before he looked away again.

After watching this for an hour, Morgan moved from his spot by Rossi to sit in front of Hotch.

“Hey,” Hotch said, nodding to Derek. “Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shrugged, biting back a grin. “I got a cat nap in. You?”

“I’ll sleep better in my bed,” Hotch replied. “I’m a little too tall for these seats.”

“Yeah, you always looked scrunched up,” Derek teased, jokingly mimicking the position Hotch once tried to sleep in. He woke up with one hell of a catch in his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hotch looked up, suspicious and a little scared. “Sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and you shifted in your sleep again, causing Aaron’s eyes to shoot over toward you. His eyebrows drew together as he watched you, waiting for you to settle back down.

By the time Hotch looked back over, Morgan was smirking.

“What was your question?” Hotch asked.

“That right there,” Morgan replied, lowering his voice a little just to be sure you wouldn’t catch any of it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Hotch asked, feigning innocence, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and the smile he wasn’t able to hold back. “I don’t, uh-- What do you mean?”

“You should tell her,” Morgan said, starting to grin. “You really should.”

What Hotch didn’t know is that exactly two days before this, you confessed your feelings to Morgan. Only because he caught you smiling at Hotch, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up. Also because you were starting to go a little crazy, holding it in. But you called it a stupid crush and said it would go away. Derek didn’t believe you.

“No,” Hotch said, but he kept smiling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Derek shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Hotch stayed quiet, looked back down. He shook his head.

“Hotch, you gotta put yourself out there,” Derek whispered. “And you gotta do it before you’re too late.”

Hotch nodded slowly. He should’ve known you’d have someone else on your horizons. You’re much younger, far prettier than he ever thought to be real. No wonder someone else took notice. No wonder someone else was ahead of him.

“Seriously,” Morgan pressed a little further. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, y’know. Perfect timing.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head at Morgan’s wicked grin. “Alright.”

+++

Emily and JJ realized it at the same time you did, though you told yourself you were overthinking and making it all up.

Hotch had bought your coffee.

It didn’t seem that strange, or romantic even. You happened to be at a coffee shop down the street, waiting in line to order when Hotch got in line behind you.

The two of you talked while you waited. What a happy coincidence, both of you were there before work. Your heart fluttered with every word he said, every smile he showed and laugh he let slip. Even his jokes, you were flustered beyond belief.

And then he got your coffee for you.

He asked, and you were so shocked that you said yes. You couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.

Truthfully, Aaron was over the moon. His heart was beating like crazy, and he wondered if you noticed his nervous laughter. (You did.)

When you got back to the BAU, walking in together caught Emily and JJ’s attention. Reid was in the middle of a book, and Derek was nowhere to be found (probably off with Penelope). But Emily and JJ immediately tuned in.

“Hey you two,” you smiled, walking around to your desk.

“Hey yourself,” Emily grinned, keeping an eye on Hotch as he walked up to his office, smiling to himself. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A very good mood,” JJ echoed, propping herself up on the corner of her desk. “You and Hotch got coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, thinking nothing of it. “I just ran into him at my usual place.”

Emily and JJ shared a look, raising their eyebrows.

“Just ran into him?” JJ asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“…yeah?” you laughed. “What about it?”

“Did he buy your coffee?” Emily asked quietly, biting back a grin. “That’s…” She cocked her head, giving you a look.

“It’s what?”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Reid piped up, eyes still focused on his book. “It was a romantic gesture.”

Reid had known for a while. He kept it to himself, though, because nine times out of ten, when he first picks up on these things, no one else has yet. And if he mentions it, it’s often invasive and people get defensive, because it’s something they don’t want to think about.

So, he’s kept it quiet. But he has noticed. And now it’s getting obvious.

Your mouth remained open in shock. Hotch? Having a crush on you? That seemed ridiculous. Impossible, even. He’s your boss, for crying out loud. Not to mention, older and…does he even date? He doesn’t talk about his personal life. You know he’s divorced, but that’s it.

“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I buy my coffee for my friends all the time. I’ve bought you guys coffee,” you gestured to Emily and JJ. “It’s fine, right?”

“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.”

“Just a coffee,” JJ agreed, although both of them still didn’t fully believe you.

It was friendly, sure, but the kind of friendly that had romantic undertones and intentions.

But you didn’t want to think about that because it felt impossible. They were reading too far into it, that’s all.

It’s a running joke that joining the BAU is a death sentence for your love life, so it’s a regular conversation, that’s all.

That’s all, you told yourself. That’s all.

+++

The BAU rang in February with a new case, this one in Alabama. It took a week or so to solve, and by the end of it, you were all exhausted. Yet you needed to eat, so the team went out for dinner.

Somehow — you never really know how this happens — the conversation veered toward Valentine’s Day. Derek brought it up, purely because he and Penelope are planning to spend it together watching the worst rom-coms imaginable.

“I don’t know, it just kinda bums me out. I never look forward to it,” you said, expecting to be in the majority at the table, but you weren’t.

“What?” Derek said. “We’ve gotta change that.”

You smiled at him, though it felt like he was pitying you.

“Why does it bum you out?” Hotch asked earnestly.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, let alone to ask you a question. “Because,” you started. “I guess I just see all these happy couples, and the cards and balloons and flowers and chocolates and it’s— It’s just too much to look at.”

“You know, most of the happiest couples on Valentine’s Day are actually struggling in their relationship,” Reid said, mid-chew.

“What statistics back that one up, pretty boy?” Morgan teased.

“Just an observation,” Reid shrugged, swallowing.

“I know,” you replied. “I know statistically — also just from experience — that they’re not that happy, but still. They still look it. And it’s, you know, it’s sad.” You paused, not wanting to finish your sentence but you knew you had to because you dug this hole for yourself. “Because…I know that I’ll never have that.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked, his voice quiet with concern.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Emily said, her face sad as she shook her head solemnly. “You don’t know that.”

“But…I do.” Your smile was a soft, sad one born from acceptance. “I never have had it, and it just seems so unlikely for me. Besides, I don’t want to be pretending to be happy and in love. That would be worse than being single.”

“Not everyone is pretending,” Hotch said, his eyes soft.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I didn’t mean to take over the table, guys. Let’s— JJ, what are you and Will doing?”

The conversation went back into safer territory, as JJ told the table that her and Will would probably do something small after Henry went to bed. Or maybe a dinner, after Spencer offered to babysit.

“Yeah, or I could babysit,” you offered. “You guys should have a date.”

“Uh, you should too,” Emily said. “You’ll find someone.”

“Considering Valentine’s Day is in three days, I doubt it.”

The table was silent for a moment, but Rossi broke it. “You’ll find someone,” he said with his small smile. “You’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t unlike Rossi to talk like a fortune cookie.

+++

Aaron wanted to throw up.

Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly was nervous. He didn’t even know if you’d show up.

But he waited. Inside the coffee shop, at a table by the window, he waited. The barista kept giving him this look, like she pitied him because it was Valentine’s Day and he was sitting at a table for two. Alone.

He texted you and asked if you wanted to grab coffee, but you hadn’t texted him back — yet. Still, he needed something to do today, so he came anyway.

Why did he give everyone the day off? He felt ridiculous.

What Aaron didn’t know was that a few miles away, you felt even more ridiculous.

“It’s not even a date!” you cried over the phone. “What the hell am I so worked up for?”

“Because you like him!” Penelope gushed. “And he clearly likes you. Oh, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

You laughed at her as you worked your boots over your heels. “Relax, Pen.”

“I won’t!”

“Okay, well, I need to go because he texted like…an hour ago and I’m not even on the way. God, what if he’s already left? I bet he—”

“Shush! No more! You have a hot date and no room for self-doubt, now go!”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. Let me text him that I’m leaving— Penelope.”

Your heart dropped out of your ass. There, staring back at you, was your text message that you meant to send an hour ago. You forgot to hit send.

“I forgot to hit send!” you screamed, flying toward the front door. “I’m such an ass!”

“No you’re not!” Penelope yelled back. “Call him!”

“I can’t!”

“I will literally add him to this call right now if you don’t—”

“Don’t you dare!” You promptly hung up with her and called Aaron. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, please, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Hi!” you sounded out of breath. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I meant to text you back, but it didn’t send, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but I swear it’s true—”

“Y/N—”

“If you’ve already left, that’s okay, God I feel so bad—”

“Y/N,” he said again. He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been here that long.” He had. But you didn’t need to know that, because it was irrelevant. He would wait years for you.

“I’m on my way now, I swear to god,” you said, laughing a little. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Do you want your usual?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew your order. Your usual. “Yeah,” you said. “Please. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, still smiling. “I’ll have it waiting for you.”

Relief. “You’re the best.”

By the time you made it to the coffee shop, Aaron did, in fact, have your coffee waiting for you. Along with your favorite pastry from their bakery. Today, it had a pink heart on it.

He stood to his feet when he saw you come in. You looked flustered, yes, but beautiful beyond measure. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop himself from fainting.

You felt the same way. Seeing him out of the suit never ceased to amaze you. He wore a nice black button down today with jeans. He still looked unbelievably handsome, his hair fluffier than usual, not as slicked down as he does it for work.

“What’s all this?” you asked, sheepish. A red rose laid across the table, your favorite pastry sat next to your coffee. It was all so…sweet. “Aaron, you didn’t have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted it to be special.”

He sat down after you did, his stomach doing somersaults. He didn’t want to point you in the direction of his question so blatantly, but he was getting impatient. He just wanted to blurt it.

Before he could, though, you turned your cup toward you and saw the writing on the side. There, in Hotch’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting, was one question: Will you be my Valentine?

You gasped, then pouted, shocked by it all, but so, so happy. Deep down, you wanted this to happen, but you never let yourself believe that it really could or that it really was.

“Really?” you asked him, looking up from the writing.

He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I know you said you don’t like the holiday, but I thought you at least deserved to have a happy one. At least once.”

You didn’t know what to say. “That’s… That’s so sweet, Aaron, wow, okay. Yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes what?”

You grinned. He’s so cute. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Right. Sorry, I’m so nervous.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “I was on the phone with Garcia before I came-- She knows, by the way. She insisted this was a date, but I told her not to be delusional and-- Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” you murmured. “A lot.”

“Would you like to…” his voice trailed away. “I am so bad at this.”

Instinctively, your hand reached across the table and rested on his. “No you’re doing great!”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing red at your touch. He turned his hand over and clasped his fingers around yours. “Would you like to do this again? I don’t want this to just be today. I’d like to…see where this goes.”

“Me too,” you breathed, so relieved you could almost cry. “I’d love that.”

“And,” he added, enveloping your hand in both of his. “Penelope was the first to know. She saw right through me.”

“When?” you laughed. It was hard to imagine Penelope Garcia cornering Aaron Hotchner on something like this.

“I think it was your first case,” he admitted, the blush seeming permanent on his cheeks now. “I guess how I spoke on the phone gave me away.”

“The first day?” Honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

He nodded. “The very first.”

“That’s…adorable.” There was nothing else to it.

[daechwitatamic]

Of Ruin: Chapter 12 || KTH

(banner by @itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

//

Section Warnings: language, tense situations with dangerous vampires, violence: vampire biting and feeding!!, lots of blood!!!, kissing wc: 4.8k

You spend the ride back to the palace in silence. You can’t even watch the beautiful landscape roll by, because Taehyung keeps the curtains closed as a precaution.

At the palace, he walks you back to your rooms. He doesn’t kiss you goodbye; you aren’t sure if you expected him to or not. Instead he takes your hand, glances up the hall where a team of guards wait for him, and gives it two quick squeezes before striding away, his footfalls echoing in the stone corridor.

You wait anxiously in the main room until the door opens, Namjoon looking just as relieved to see you as you are to see him.

You wonder if Jimin and the guard who took the main road made it back okay.

You don’t tell Namjoon about this kiss, nor about Taehyung’s comments about wanting you to stay.

You do fill him in on the meeting with the Scores, and Taehyung’s tentative plan for his reign.

“That’s ambitious,” Namjoon admits, rubbing a hand over his forehead. “He’ll have his work cut out for him.”

“He’s determined,” you say, somewhat absently. “I think the Scores might be on board. They’re not immediately objecting, anyway.”

“Would you stay?” Namjoon asks, dark eyes on yours inquisitively. “As, like, a representative for above?”

You shrug, averting your gaze, lest he spy your secrets in your eyes. “If he wanted me,” you say. “Of course, I’d try to help.”

Namjoon hums in response, meaning he doesn’t want to say what he really thinks.

You can’t find it in you to care.

About half the Scores return to court. No more attacks come. Satuel tells you, when you inquire, that that coach had been stopped by riders on the main road, but when they found only Jimin, they made no trouble.

You fall back into your routine. You spend your days reading through the notes Namjoon took at the archives. You spend your nights practicing magic, branching out from defensive spells and beginning to dabble with practical magic, and the odd offensive move.

Over the next week you break your lamp three more times while practicing, and you try to counter Taehyung’s curse - unsuccessfully - just as many.

The first two fizzle out and go nowhere, unceremonious and anticlimactic. The third one goes wrong so immediately that Namjoon physically yanks you away from Taehyung to break the connection, black smoke rising from each of your palms as you break away.

Taehyung heals your burns, the first time he’s touched you since you said goodbye after kissing in the carriage.

You feel stalled out; you feel your wheels spinning.

“Taehyung,” you say heavily, one of the evenings he comes to check your nonexistent progress. “We’re still missing something. Something we thought we had worked out isn’t right. I’m telling you. Something’s messed up.”

“What do you need?” he asks, looking back at you seriously. “More time at the archives? I could take you back -”

“I need to see the curse at work,” you say determinedly. It’s been over a month since you’d last had this argument, since the prince had put his foot down definitively. “I’ve been saying it since the beginning, and it’s still true. I have to.”

“We discussed this already,” he says tightly. “I won’t allow it.”

“Maiesti,” you say desperately. “We’ve run out of other choices. No book will tell me what I need - the curse will. If I can’t crack this, everything else you’re working on will never happen. You can’t do anything you’ve planned until this is solved.”

He stares at you, and it’s plain on his face how much he hates that you’re right.

“I can keep myself safe,” you say. Beside you, Namjoon murmurs your name, apprehensive. “You’ve seen me do it. I’m better now than I was then, I’ve practiced and practiced - I can do it, I can keep you back.”

The prince looks like he wants to vomit. “I can’t,” he croaks. “I can’t allow it.”

“We have to -”

“What if the worst happens?” he snaps, breaking. “What if I kill you? Seriously - that is a serious question! Think about that. I could kill you.”

“I’ll send you through a wall,” you say, half-joking. But you both know you can.

He shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”

“The bigger risk is never breaking the curse,” you say. “Think how much is at stake, now. You can only hold off the Scores for so long before they move back to the offensive. War is on the line, Taehyung, is that what you want for your people? Is my life worth more to you than the good of Infracticus? It shouldn’t be.”

He swears in his people’s ancient language, turning away from you, rubbing his face roughly, as he often does when overwhelmed.

Namjoon takes this opportunity to say your name again, quietly.

“I know what decision I’m making,” you say stonily, to both of them. “I know the risks, I know the dangers. We have to. We’ve come to a point where this is the only solution.”

“Fine,” Taehyung snaps, finally, turning back to you, eyes narrowed and mouth tight. “Fine. Is tonight too soon?”

You blanch. “Tonight?”

He looks at you, pleading. “Please. I can’t go through a whole day knowing it’s coming. The sooner we do this, the less time I’ll spend sick with worry. So - can you? Will you?”

“Yeah,” you say shakily. “Yes. Yes, we can do it tonight.”

“Fine,” he says, and when his voice is cold this time, you know it’s because he’s scared. “Satuel will bring you before midnight.”

He leaves without goodbye, as he used to do.

Namjoon says your name, more insistent this time.

“I know,” you tell him. “Believe me. You trust me, right?”

“I think so,” he says, which makes you laugh.

“It’s going to be fine,” you tell him.

—

The room Prince Taehyung spends his nights in is nicer than you’d envisioned, though not as nice as his actual wing of the palace.

Prince Taehyung sits at a wooden table, legs crossed so that one ankle rests on his knee. He eyes you coldly when the guards let you in the room.

Once, you would have seen his coldness and felt small. You know better now.

“It’s going to be okay,” you tell him, as gently as you can.

He swallows, looks at the floor. Then he rises, walking towards you. He stops before you, raises his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, irises white and human, dance with something too complicated to name.

“How can you be willing to do this?” he asks, something broken in his voice. “How, when you know the risks?”

Something in you breaks too, a dam that has been holding back every foolish, dead-end, illogical feeling you’ve been having these past months: because I love you, you think. Because I love you, and I want to save you.

You don’t say it, don’t say anything, but he’s watching your face carefully, and you think maybe he hears you anyway, somehow. He raises one shaky hand and cups your face, so light it’s barely there.

He kisses you chastely, gently, then shuffles backwards, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Three minutes,” he says. “Put the wall up now. Do it now.”

“Taehyung,” you say, but you have nothing to follow it. You do as he says, pulsing your palms towards the floor between you, feeling the magic swim through you.

You both watch the clock, together, in silence.

He paces, and you miss the moment he leaves you, leaving only the beast. But you notice his movements grow choppier, and you watch the exact second that he smells you.

His head wheels around, fangs displayed, crackling grumbles beginning to emit from deep in his chest. He stalks towards you, elbows bent up behind him, until he hits your wall. He bounces backwards almost comically, then snarls louder, eyes narrowed at you. They swirl, like pools of ink.

He tries again, slower this time, pressing his hands to the wall he cannot see, investigative. You try to breathe evenly, to ensure the magic holds. His gaze snaps back to you, his mind putting together the pieces and figuring that you are causing the problem.

He snarls at you, jaw snapping, lip curled, cursing your existence in the ancient language of the Infracti, which you aren’t sure he’s even fluent in when he’s himself.

You put your shoulders back and walk closer to the wall you made.

“If you want something,” you tell him firmly, “then you need to ask me in my language.”

The beast freezes in place, eyes locking on you. The curl in his lip relaxes just slightly, and he blinks at you. He cocks his head just slightly and blinks again. It’s like you can see him thinking, cogs in his head turning.

Then, voice raspy and entirely unlike Taehyung’s low, honeyed tones, he grits out, “Drink?”

Your heart pounds.

“Not too much,” you say, still firm, like you’re giving directions to an unruly toddler. “If you take too much, I’ll die, and then you never get more.”

His head cocks to the other side. His brows furrow. “Small?” he asks.

“Very small,” you say. Your legs don’t even feel like jelly beneath you - they feel like nothing, so numb with fear that they could be gone and you wouldn’t know. “From here.”

You hold out your wrist, veins up, and look at him. “You understand?”

“Yes,” he says, licking his lips in anticipation.

“I’m putting the wall down,” you tell him. “Come slowly.”

He waits, and you do. When you nod, he comes forward on that jolting, uneven gait, as if it’s screwing up his whole balance to move at a human pace for your sake.

He takes your arm in his hands, nails biting into your skin as he forgets his inhuman strength, and you grimace.

“Only a little,” you remind him, heart pounding so hard in your ribcage that it’s almost painful.

His swirling, black eyes land on yours as he brings his mouth to your wrist. You feel like you can’t breathe, the anticipation is so strong. A detached part of you knows that he could get one taste and lose this tentative control, that this could be your last moment.

You sort of wish you’d called your parents before coming.

You cry out when his fangs sink into you, instinctively flinching away, but he holds you so tight that you stumble closer to him instead. The pain is bone-deep, not a shallow pinch like a shot - and that’s frightening, your systems telling your brain that there’s danger, that something is wrong. You start to struggle, to try fruitlessly to push him away, alarms going haywire in your mind, and then -

And then the venom hits you.

The pain is eradicated - or, at least, you don’t notice it anymore. Instead, a high comes over you, and you feel like you’re floating away, the room going quite bright as you feel the unfamiliar and startling sensation of blood being pulled towards the wound as Taehyung sucks at it, his tongue running circles over and around the puncture marks.

“Enough,” you manage to say, your voice seeming disembodied to you, coming from nowhere. The beast lifts his mouth and snarls at you, before returning to lap at the rivulets of red that run over your wrist bone.

“You said small,” you remind him, trying to stay grounded. “Let me breathe, let me make sure I’m okay, and then you can have more.”

He utters a sentence at you in his language, hands tightening on your arm to the point they hurt.

“Back off, or I’ll knock you back,” you warn him. His eyes narrow as he processes the threat. It might be empty - you’re not sure you can do it one-handed.

Then, for just a second, his eyes flash human again, the whites showing. It’s him, your Taehyung, and he releases your arm so frantically it’s as if it burns to touch it. He takes two steps back, eyes wide and frightened. You blink, and he’s gone. The beast is back again, that quickly, frustration coming back over his features.

You throw the wall up as quickly as you can.

It doesn’t work.

He’s on you in an instant, so quickly you don’t see him move. Your back hits the wall behind you and you let out an audible grunt. He cages you in, a hand on either shoulder, pressing you into place against the stone, and he uses his tongue to swipe along his fangs, cleaning remnants of your blood from them, as he looks you over. Slowly, he leans his weight on you, his hips pinning your hips, his chest pinning your chest, his hands firm on the fronts of your shoulders.

Your breath comes in and out in shaky waves. You’re not sure you’d still be standing if he weren’t holding you in place. You try not to think about all the places your bodies are touching, the weight of him over you, the stuttering rhythm of your heartbeat, the fiery look that he settles over you. You try not to think about how precarious this is, how easily he could let go of his control and simply tear your throat out in one seamless motion.

He sniffs at you, fangs displayed and ready, as if trying to find the place most palatable. Your heart pounds desperately, and beneath his inhumanly strong hold, you can feel your muscles shaking. Your body knows you are about to die, even if your mind still wants to lie to you about it, to pretend otherwise.

He chooses a spot near the base of your neck, near the front, and laves at the spot with his tongue, giving a happy hum as your pulse thunders visibly over the inch of skin. You close your eyes, feeling your whole body shudder in terror.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, barely able to give volume to the word.

The beast pulls back and looks at you, reacting to the sound of its name. Somewhere in there, he recognizes it. Somewhere in there, he recognizes you; you watch as he draws even further back, then removes one hand from your shoulders and reaches for your uninjured wrist instead.

He lifts your limb to his mouth easily and you flinch before anything even happens.

“Here?” he asks, in that gritty, not-Taehyung voice, and your eyes snap to his.

He’s asking permission.

You are not going to die. Maybe.

“Small,” you utter. Then, since it seemed to work a second ago to use his name, to remind him who he is, “You promised, Taehyung. A small one.”

The puncture hurts - enough that you cry out again, the pain deep and throbbing, the cry morphing into a sob of agony - but the high comes quickly, melting it away. The sensation of blood being pulled to your wrist is less frightening this time, and you breathe deeply, trying to assess how dizzy you are, if you need to tell him to stop yet.

“Enough,” you say, and he licks one last stripe over the wound before taking his mouth away. Blood smears around his lips and down his chin, but his black eyes watch yours, obedient, waiting. His chest heaves as he waits, like it’s hard work.

Maybe it is.

Maybe it is only a sliver of Taehyung’s humanity shining through that is keeping you alive right now.

You both wait, him still pressing you to the wall by one shoulder. You breathe, closing your eyes for a long inhale and then opening them again.

Taehyung’s eyes are human, and he opens his mouth as if to speak. He blinks. They go black again. Whatever comes out of his mouth isn’t human.

He presses closer again, raising the wrist he just bit up to his face and inhaling deeply. He sticks out his tongue and licks over it once more, then continues to trace up your forearm with his tongue, past the crook of your elbow, stopping when he finds the pulsing point of the brachial artery in your fleshy upper arm.

“Here?” he asks again. He shudders, blinks, and your Taehyung looks at you.

This time he manages to speak, all in a rush, before he’s sucked under again. “You should run,” he tells you, breathless, and then only snarls fall from his lips as his eyes flash black again.

You press a hand to the monster’s cheek, blood still rising to clot at the first wound he’d given you. The beast looks at you, waiting, mouth still inches from your bicep, waiting for permission.

“Yes,” you whisper.

This one hurts worse - maybe the bite is deeper. You hear yourself shout and your eyes roll back, your knees giving out beneath you. The beast uses both hands and his hips to hold you up, press you in place, as he sucks and licks at the twin wounds in your arm.

The high comes, but combined with the blood loss it’s no longer pleasant and floaty. Instead, you feel yourself weakening, unable to remind Taehyung to stop, unable to even stand. The room goes fuzzy as he pulls more blood from you, becoming nothing but colors, and your head spins so violently that it makes you want to cry out.

He stops when your head lolls, brow furrowing as if he’s trying to remember why he doesn’t want you gone. He licks at his lips, rising to stand, and picks you up, your jelly-like arms flopping over his shoulders. He carries you easily to the large bed on the other side of the room and places you down gently on your back.

Your head lolls to the side and you work on breathing, work on staying here, not floating away. The beast sits on the bed next to you, cross-legged, and waits, watching your chest rise and fall, watching your eyes go unfocused and then come back again.

After some time, you do settle back into yourself, the high from his venom dissipating and your mind clearing as you rest. You still feel weak, a bit dizzy, but the room comes into focus again.

The beast has been waiting, and he sees it immediately when you’re coherent again. He stretches out his legs and rolls over top of you, holding himself up with his arms. He presses his nose to your most recent wound, the one in your upper arm, and gives it a long sniff, and then one last lick.

Then, he noses his way up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, past your shoulder, and up to the junction of your neck. He presses his lips to the spot he wants, licking at it, feeling your pulse thud against his tongue. You feel him shudder, wanting.

“Here?” he asks, leaning up to look at you.

“Last one,” you breathe, unable to sound any more firm than that. You can only pray that he listens, that enough Taehyung is in there to know you mean it. “Last one, or it’ll be too much.”

“Small,” he says, a promise, and lays himself over you, heavy. He sinks his fangs into your neck and your whole body reacts to the white-hot pain, hands coming up to claw fruitlessly at his upper arms, legs scrabbling against the sheets, eyes screwing shut, breaths heaving noisily through your open mouth as you pant through the pain.

He drinks longer here, despite his promise, licking and licking over the spot like one might scrape the bottom of the bowl for any last dregs of soup. You float, incoherent, trying to count your inhales and exhales, trying to measure your heartbeats and ensure they’re not slowing too much.

He doesn’t remove himself from you when he’s done, and it’s honestly kind of nice having his heaviness over your body - you know you can’t actually float away, something is tethering you here. He sniffs and licks and presses his lips against the wound on your neck, but doesn’t drink more, doesn’t suck anything from it.

Then, as your head begins to clear a final time, he noses his way up your jaw, still pressing his open mouth to spot after spot, tongue tasting your skin but not puncturing it. Finally, he finds your mouth, pressing his lips to yours in a searing, lingering kiss that you try your best to return.

When he pulls away to look at you, his eyes are his own, brown and anguished.

“There you are,” you manage, trying to reach up for his face. You can’t get your hand high enough, and your arm flops uselessly back to the mattress. For some reason, this makes tears prick at your eyes. You want to touch him, your Taehyung, want to feel closer to him, protected by him. Instead, you can only look at him as he pants over top of you, clearly exerting himself even as he’s holding himself still.

“Run,” he begs in between pants. You shake your head, flopping from side to side. You don’t want to leave him. Your Taehyung is here, fighting to get through, and you don’t want to leave him.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, and he closes his eyes, still panting. Fighting. Fighting it with everything he has. “Please.”

“I’m - trying -” he lets out between gritted teeth, but when his eyes open again they’ve gone black again.

You wait for him to pick a new place to bite, to ask permission. Instead, he shifts to lay next to you instead of over top of you. He pulls you tight against his chest, one arm over your middle, tangles his legs between yours, and buries his face in the back of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No more?” you ask, trying to turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. You find it hard to believe that he’s satiated… but that last bite was long, dizzying. Maybe he is.

“You said,” he grumbles, the monster’s gritty voice still coming out somewhat petulant and pouty. “You said last one.” Then, his voice turns hopeful. “Tomorrow? More tomorrow?”

“Okay,” you breathe; it’s an easy promise to make - tomorrow you can talk to normal Taehyung, your Taehyung. Tomorrow at this time, chances are you’ll be safe in your own rooms. It’s a promise you won’t have to keep.

“Yes,” the beast grumbles, wiggling closer to you, but you think it’s a happy grumble. “More tomorrow. Now, sleep.”

The room spins a few times, then settles. You feel him press his lips to your shoulder, then return to the back of your neck. It takes a lot of strength, but eventually you manage to lift your hand high enough to grip his.

With his body firm behind yours, his hand under your hand, his breath against your neck, you let yourself float away.

—

You’re awakened abruptly by hands jerking you around by your arms - lifting you up, rolling you over, turning you this way and that with a frantic energy that you are too sleepy to comprehend.

“Stop,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. Somewhere deep in your mind you know it’s Taehyung, and you know he’s freaking out, but you were sleeping so well, and you’re so bone-tired - probably from the blood loss. You just want him to leave you in peace, in the dark room and fluffy bed, to sleep many more hours. “Taehyung, stop it.”

“I bit you,” he utters, horrified. He’s holding you in a sitting-up position, and you work hard to open your eyes to slits so you can see him. His eyes - humanlike, beautiful brown - dance between the puncture marks on your upper arm and the ones on your neck. He curses in Infracti, the word coming out quieter than a whisper. “I hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, eyes adjusting. “I’m tired, and I’m starving, but I’m fine.”

You scoot away from him a little, laying back against the headboard, too weak to hold yourself up for long. He’d been kneeling as he turned you from side to side, assessing the damage, but as you get more comfortable he climbs off the bed entirely, coming around and sitting on the edge near your torso.

He clearly hasn’t cleaned up this morning - he’s in last night’s rumpled clothes, dried blood caked on his jaw. Despite this, he looks no more dangerous right now than a teddy bear, with huge, worried eyes and a pronounced frown.

“I can’t believe you’re even alive,” he utters, still whispering. “Why did I agree to this? God, you could have died, I could have killed you -” His voice completely breaks, and he brings up a hand to cover his face, ashamed and guilty.

“Taehyung,” you say, reaching up to tug his hand away. He lets you, but looks steadfastly at his feet, his eyes swimming. “Hey - I let you, I told you it was okay. You didn’t do anything without my permission -”

“I know,” he bites out, then swallows hard, his facial muscles quivering as he fights off emotion. “I know, I remember, but it doesn’t matter - it was still dangerous. It’s a miracle you’re alive -”

You stare at him. “What do you mean, you remember?”

He freezes too, coming to the same realization as you.

“I… remember,” he repeats, eyes widening. He turns his body to face you, looking at you wildly, desperate for an explanation. “I remember every bit of it,” he adds, voice breathy with disbelief. “I couldn’t stop myself from doing any of it, but I was there.” His eyes linger on yours, lost and baffled. “How can that be?”

“You broke through,” you say softly, the only explanation to the magic’s inconsistency. “Somehow, you pushed through it - enough to control yourself, and enough to remember.”

“What does that mean?” he asks, deep voice still breathy, shaking a little.

“It means…” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “It means that even when the curse is active, your humanity isn’t gone, it’s just suppressed. It’s there, we can reach it. I’ve had this wrong all along - my countercurse was trying to replace it… but really, I needed to just… unbury it. And…”

“And?” He tilts his head cutely.

“And… well, there’s probably a level of…”

You trail off, embarrassed, unsure. You don’t know how Taehyung feels, but you know magic and countercurses.

“What?” he asks, reaching for your hands, which lay limp over your lap.

You press your lips together, mine for courage. “It seems like you came through once you recognized me. It makes me wonder… I mean, I’d hypothesize… whatever it is you f-feel for me,” you stumble over the words, starting to mumble, “acts as a counter to something built into the curse.”

He blinks at you a few times, his thumbs absently stroking the backs of your hands. Then, as if he’s asking about your breakfast order, he clarifies, “Love? Love counters something in the curse?”

You pull your hands from his, your body reacting defensively - as if it’s sure this is a joke being played on you.

“What?” he asks, oblivious.

“You what?” you manage, heart pounding desperately against your ribs.

He frowns at you, like you’re being purposely obtuse. “I love you,” he repeats, like it’s not a big deal at all, no more weighty than saying I’m wearing black shoes tonight.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, shaking your head. “What are you saying? You can’t love me - I’m nothing, just a human, I’m not -”

“Are you joking?” he asks, and he actually looks angry, suddenly. “Nothing?” He scoots closer, brushes his thumb up your jaw, then leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours and closing his eyes. “You have never been nothing,” he says, voice dangerously low. “Never.”

You want to protest, to object, but then he’s lifting his chin to slot his lips against yours - soft at first, then more insistent - and the words die on your tongue, replaced by a small, happy sigh.

When he pulls away, he shakes his head, eyes closing. “Y/N, if something had gone wrong last night, and it had been my fault, I think I would have lost my mind. Truly. I might be losing my mind anyway just because it almost happened. I’m so sorry you went through this.”

“Nothing almost happened,” you press back. “I knew what I was getting into. I knew what I was agreeing to.”

He shakes his head again, wordless, and reaches for you, long fingers reaching to pull you from your spot against the pillows into his lap instead. You allow it, letting him pull you closer until you’re straddling his legs, his arms wrapped tight around your back, pulling you ever closer.

Safe, you think, as he presses his face to the top of your head, giving you a squeeze.

Lips close enough to your ear that he can speak so quietly it’s barely there, he murmurs, “You must have been terrified.”

“No,” you assert, shaking your head, causing him to pull away and look at you. “Not once I knew it was you.”

<- Prev || Next ->

KBYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[mattitties]

can u plz do a fluff fanfic about the reader being scared of thunder and there's a rlly loud thunder storm so matt has to comfort her? thanks :)

thunder - matt sturniolo

“Really? I love when it storms. I think it’s so peaceful and I can just curl up and watch a movie or something,” Matt tells me. It’s our second date and we’re in the “biggest fears” category, and I told him about my extremely irrational, but very severe, fear of storms. 

“I get that,” I reply. “It’s really not that I’m just scared of storms, my best friend’s house was struck by lightning and caught on fire when we were in high school, so it kind of just set something off in my head. I know it sounds stupid because it didn’t happen to me, but it just started this crazy fear.”

“Oh wow, that’s terrifying. No, I totally get it, it’s not stupid.”

As I sit with my knees tucked to my chest on my bathroom floor, I think back to that conversation from three months ago. It’s the first storm I’ve experienced since I moved to LA, and I’m a mess. My windows are rattling with each clap of thunder, and all I can think about is my roommate at work right now. She enjoys storms, but my anxiety is getting the best of me thinking about everything that could go wrong. 

What if she can’t make it to her car? What if she gets in an accident on the way home? What if I’m stuck here for the rest of the night by myself?

She’s the only person I’ve got here in LA. I had Matt, but then I fucked it all up right on our two month anniversary.

I was so ridiculously busy with work and what felt like 800 pounds of shit piling up in my life that I completely forgot about our anniversary. I stood him up at the dinner that he made reservations for, and subsequently didn’t go to the hockey game that he was going to surprise me with; the hockey game which he got $300 tickets for. 

I apologized profusely and told him I would do anything to make it up to him, and he told me he was just really disappointed and needed some space before we talked again.

He called me a couple days later and I didn’t answer because I was so ashamed and embarrassed I couldn’t even face him. 

He texted me, I never replied. After three days of missed calls and texts, I guess he got the message because he stopped trying.

A week after that, I texted him apologizing for everything and explained my intentions behind my actions.

He didn’t answer. I don’t blame him.

That was three weeks ago, and it’s been radio silence on both ends. I guess we’re really done, but I really, really need him right now.

I turn on the shower to try to drown out some of the noise of the thunder, but nothing is working. I look at the weather app. It shows the same pattern until tomorrow morning.

I’m so fucked. I can barely breathe, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I just want to die. I’ve been texting my roommate to see when she’s returning but she’s busy at work and I’m trying not to annoy her any more than I know I have been, so now I’m just sitting in front of the shower, praying that everything would just stop.

Ten or so minutes pass, and I hear the front door open. Nobody ever comes to our apartment and my roommate always forgets her key, so I just leave it deadbolted when I’m home. I turn off the shower and call out her name to let her know I’m home, but she must not hear me. I pull myself together as much as possible and go out to the living room, but I don’t see the face I expect when I get there.

“Matt?” I whisper. I’m in such shock that nothing else comes out.

He’s absolutely drenched as he stands by the front door with a bottle of lemonade. I love lemonade.

“Hi,” he smiles shyly as he raises the hand holding the bottle. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I have no idea what to say. I opt for, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, I know how much you hate storms, so I thought you could use some company. Also… I just really miss you. And I would like to talk about us. We don’t have to do it tonight, obviously, but–”

“Yes. Yes, we can talk. Tomorrow? We can get breakfast? My treat,” I say, sounding pathetically desperate, but this is all I’ve wanted for the past three weeks.

“Okay,” he says as he takes off his shoes. “Do you happen to still have some of my sweatshirts and sweatpants? I’m kinda…” he says, motioning to the water dripping off of him.

“Yes! In my room, come.” He follows me to my room and I give him his clothes that I’ve worn an embarrassing amount of times since we broke up. “You didn’t have to come tonight,” I tell him. “This is really, just… I don’t deserve this after what I did.”

He waves a hand at me as if to say forget about it. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. And I did have to come. Because I care about you, and I know you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight.”

I’m about to cry. I really don’t deserve this guy. 

“Let me go change, then we can crack open that lemonade and cuddle and watch something. Sound good?” he asks.

All I can do is nod in response as I watch him smile before he goes to the bathroom. I pour the lemonade into two glasses and set them on the bedside tables. 

When he comes back out and lays on my bed, I just stand there, wondering if he wants me to join him.

“Hello, what are you waiting for? Don’t leave me hangin!”

I smile and lay next to him, feeling more at home than ever when he pulls me into him.

[mshalfemptygirl]

Spit Your Love On Me (S.R)

Plot: Spencer Reader are having an enjoyable Saturday night that just might get better.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Contents: smut (oral sex male receiving) and fluffy, just a lovely couple loving each other. A bit of teasing, cause I like it.

A/N: Thank you so much for you guys liked my fics. I have 5 now and they are getting a lot of likes. Comment and Reblog them please, my heart melts with every interaction. I’ll let the link for Spencer Reid Masterlist in the end. Love y’all. Requests are open! Hope you like it! Oh, of course, Måneskin inspire me in this one, like always.

It was a typical Saturday night, Spencer and I have a tradition of watching a movie, cooking dinner afterwards, and talking about random things in our lives until three in the morning. And since it was late, he let me sleep here and he woke me up with kisses on my neck every Sunday morning.

We had been dating for four months and just being intimate enough to sleep in the same bed, we never had sex. It wasn't for lack of desire, we agreed not to rush with it and let it happen naturally. I tease him a lot for fun, he doesn’t complain ‘cos he knows that I would never force him to do anything he doesn't want to. By the way, everytime I call him “hot”, he blushes violently, it’s just too funny. We spend a lot of time in the kitchen today, cooking pasta and drinking wine, he has the gift of making simple everyday things cool. I don't know how people live without Spencer Reid by their side.

We were washing dinner dishes together, he washed and I dried everything, it was a system that worked and it may seem silly, but in those moments I felt close to him.We get stuck in our world and nothing else matters. He looked at me all the time, once, he told me that looking at me was like looking at the goddess Aphrodite. In fact, that I was much prettier than her. What a lie. 

I had already dried everything and put it away, just missing the wine glasses he was washing. Spencer was a tall man and I was a short woman, but I was glad that today I was wearing high-heeled boots that made one have quicker access to the back of his neck. Slowly, I arrived from behind, put my hand on his waist and kissed the back of his neck, he shivered in reaction.

"Baby, I'm going to end up breaking the glass," I chuckled. He was the most precious thing in this world. "Sorry, it's just that I miss you", he finished washing the glass, closed the tap before saying,"But you saw me yesterday and the day before yesterday . We spend a lot time together". I gave him another kiss on the back of his neck “I know but it's not enough, I've always wanted you all to myself, all the time".

He turned to me and placed an icy hand on my face, I melt with every touch of yours, sometimes I feel like a porcelain doll that can break at any moment. "Spence, I love you so much, you know that, right?!", he smiled. I will never get tired of this view, his face brings me peace and his presence comforts me, it's only been four months together but it seems so much longer. "I love you too, very much."

And his gaze drifted towards my lips and I knew what I should do, I kissed him and honestly, his kisses always awaken something in me, it looks like that with each kiss I gain more years of life. After several wet kisses he suddenly stopped, he looks uncomfortable and and his cheeks gradually gained a shade of pink, something that was not uncommon to see. He turned his face away.

"Baby, are you alright?", he shook his head. "Something's wrong, tell me." He looked into my eyes, I watch him bit his bottom lip, he was nervous. “Pff, this situation is embarrassing. I'm little...excited, you know?" I frowned. I didn't understand. Excited??? Wait, he was aroused. Because of me. Gezz! "Baby, were you telling me you're hard ‘cause of me?".

"Yes, I am. This situation is pretty embarrassing. I think it’s better go take a cold shower, sorry.", he started to move however I stopped him. It seemed too cruel if I didn't help him now, I wanted to please him, I wanted to taste him, I wanted to finally have an intimate moment with the man I loved. I didn't filter my next words, they came out of my mouth faster than lightning, I couldn't contain my desire.

"Spencer, wait. This doesn't have to be embarrassing, I can help you. I know we promised not to rush things but I want to make you feel good, I want this. Let me help you, I get down on my knees now if you want but only if you say you want to. Let me taste you.", I could see his innocent eyes turn black, I knew how much he loved the audios and how my tease could get to him and confessing that I wanted to get on my knees for him, made him immobile, going over what I said in your head over and over like a song.

"Spence? My love?!", He blinked his eyes and took a deep breath, I was tense. Whatever his command was, I would do it. "I want this, please, I need you", he confessed to me, it felt like he was telling me a secret that had been kept for a long time. Then, I gave him a soft kiss that natually became a needy kiss. I went down to his neck, giving kisses and licking his skin, I know that teasing is something important in intercourse and I wanted him to have a good experience.

I unbuttoned his shirt and trailed kisses down the V line and looked up, he was aware of my every move. "Can I go on, love?" he shakes his head. “Love, I need words”, I want hear it, consent is key for this to work, for it to be good for both me and him. It is the basics that every human being should know. “Yes, baby”.

I took off his belt and lowered his pants, his underwear was white and was already marked with his pre-cum. I placed a kiss on his cock over the fabric. "Please angel, I can’t wait any longer", he whimpered, my love is so needed. I laughed, he was desperate for this. "Calm down love, we have plenty of time. And oh, I want to hear your moans, so don't be shy", next I took his underwear off, I was trying to be very gentle with him, I wanted to go step by step, very slowly.

I went from bottom to top before popping his cock into my mouth, Spence let out a loud groan, feeling the pleasure take over your body. It was the best thing I've ever heard in my life. Gradually I increased the pace, he threw his head back and held tight to the kitchen counter. I felt his body vibrate under my touch, so I decided to tease him a bit.

"Do you like it, babe? Have your cock in my mouth? Such a good boy” he moaned again, he whispers a lot of "yes, yes, yes" and I went back to what he was doing, feeling proud of it. Seeing him get messed up for me is wonderful, I love him so much and would do anything for my boy. Not much time later, he looked me in my eyes to say, "I'm almost there, Y/N, let me cum. Please.".  Fuck, it would be so good to taste him. I took it out of my mouth again, never stopping my hand movements "Come for me, love, I’m waiting for it for so long", I intensified the movements and he yelled my name before spitting his love in my face. He was out of breath and so was I, and my makeup was ruined. He will be the death of me.

"Did you liked it, Spence?", On his face he had a smirk when he saw my painted face, behind that little angel face, there's a very dirty mind that I really want to explore. I can imagine the possibilities."Yeah, I'm in heaven, your mouth is so good. Just so fucking good. And I messed up your makeup, I'm so sorry."

I got up from the floor, trying to wipe my face with my hand, now the one who looked like a mess was me "Oh come on, I know you weren't sorry about that. I hope you liked it because the day I have you inside me, then you'll be in heaven", I finished with a soft kiss on his lips, I could spend hours doing this with him, I would never get tired of it. Afterwards, we went to the bathroom to clean up the mess we made in the kitchen, and after today, we're going to do more than sleep in that bed.

Talk to me

Spencer Reid Masterlist

A/N: let me know if you want me to tag you

TAG

@thebloomingeagle

[deancaspinefest]

If Only You Return to Me

Author: arlingtonchamberofgay | Artist: sidewinder

Posting on Tuesday April 9

The world has been saved, yet again, but this time, Dean is forced to carry on without his best friend. His best friend, who loved him. In true Winchester fashion, Dean decides to shove down and bury his feelings about the last words that Cas said to him and the implications thereof, instead burying himself in alcohol, hunting, and stupid ass decisions. After a failed rescue attempt in the Empty, he’s forced to reassess what his life looks like without the angel. Until, one day, a run of the mill hunt goes wrong because of a small bit of rebar. Castiel somehow awakens in the Empty, much to the Shadow’s ever growing annoyance. After making a deal to return to Earth to find Dean in exchange for his grace, Cas finds himself in the same room he last saw the man. He’s devastated to discover that he’s too late, Dean is dead and in Heaven. Dean and Cas are desperate to find their way back to each other, but the universe seems to be working hard to keep them apart.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“Hey, I found a case close by, down in Corinth; it’s only a 35 minute drive. What do you say we go check it out?” Sam jumps at Dean’s question, considering they’ve been quietly sitting at the War Room table at their laptops for well over three hours now. Sam sips on a beer while Dean downs his 4th glass of whiskey. When Dean asks Sam about heading out on the case, his words aren’t necessarily slurred but they’re not fully coherent either.

Sam looks at his brother hesitantly. “Don’t you think you should sober up a bit?”

“‘M fine, besides not my first time drinkin a little on a hunt.”

“Have you eaten anything today? Or yesterday? Or the day before, for that matter?”

“Psh, yeah, I had a slice of pizza last night.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what else?” Sam looks at him expectantly.

“That’s it. That’s all I need.” To emphasize his point, Dean begins pouring himself another glass.

“Dude, besides the fact that it’s noon and you’re about to be on your fifth glass of whiskey, you haven’t eaten an actual meal in days! You look like a goddamn ghost dude.

“Look, I know that something happened before Cas was taken-”

“Don’t you /dare/ say his name.” Dean bites out, his glare piercing into Sam. /Yeah, this is bad./ Sam thinks to himself.

Sam stares at him inquisitively, trying to carefully decide his next words. “Look, whatever happened … you can’t keep beating yourself up over it, okay? Mourning him is perfectly normal, but-” He motions to the bottle and glass in Dean’s hands, “drinking ‘til you’re blind isn’t the way to deal with it. And going on a hunt drunk is just a death wish.”

“Yeah, well maybe I’ve got one,” Dean mutters to himself, but Sam hears it nonetheless. The younger Winchester sighs, gets up from the table, and heads to his room to get his bag ready for the case.

(continue reading on Ao3 on Tuesday April 9)

[xoxomoonlightxoxo]

Don't Get Attached | Part 3

➪ Playlist (Spotify)

➪ W/c: 1640

I Can Beg For You

Even though it has been about a week since Jungkook and I last saw each other he has yet to miss a day of not calling my phone at least once. Of course, I don’t answer, not because I’m petty but more so because I fear that my emotions might take over again. I’ve been a mess since the incident and that’s putting it lightly. I mean, I don’t remember the last time I stepped foot out of my apartment but I guess today’s the day as my friend, Jinni invited the girls and me out for a night out. Do I want to go? No, not really. Should I go? Yes, probably. As much as I’ve grown comfortable with rotting away in my room, I simply cannot keep doing this. 

So, I put on my tightest mini dress and let the curls loose before spraying the perfume Jungkook adored so much. The truth is, I can’t seem to let him go, not yet at least. In my head we are still together, so I pay the price of that delusion by filling the void in my heart with his sweet lies. You can call me naive all you want but something about him is just … I don’t know … irresistible, I guess. No, fuck him. For the love of God, don’t get attached y/n. 

- -

Making our way into the club we are welcomed by the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with sweat and cologne as Jinni pulls me straight to the dance floor. The place is packed and there isn’t much space to actually bust a move if you know what I mean, so most people resorted to simply grinding on each other. Realizing that I’m too sober to take this seriously I excuse myself to grab us some drinks. However, as the night went on, one shot turned into three which then doubled and after that, I just lost count. Feeling the alcohol in my system, the whole grinding thing no longer bothered me as much. 

Pulling Jinni closer we danced the night away, screaming our lungs out when the DJ played throwback Usher songs. It was all fun and games until I really let loose. The louder the music got the quieter my thoughts were and the more I drank the less I could think clearly, which in hindsight was a recipe for a disaster but in the moment was exactly what I needed. So, there I was, strutting away to some Timbaland on top of the wooden countertop as drunk men kept throwing dollar bills at me. While I was unfazed by the whole thing, Jinni had a heart attack after each shaky step I took in my 4-inch heels. The probability of me falling off was as high as most people in the club, so her concern was not exaggerated. 

“Y/n please come down, you’re gonna fall,” she screams, unfortunately for her, I was now surrounded by a sound barrier from the blasting overhead speakers. 

“Jiiinniii, dance with me,” I whine, eyes barely open as my arms reach for her. Shaking her head, Jinni quickly grabbed her phone and dialled the only person she knew could deal with my drunk self. 

“Jungkook? Hey, please hurry, y/n is drunk and won’t get down from bar island,” she screams into the speaker, turning her head to the lounge area where the rest of our group was. A rookie mistake, since by the time her attention was back on the table I was no longer there. Instead, I was in the poorly lit women’s bathroom with some random guy whose grip tightened around my waist. 

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, gaze focused on my lips as my back presses onto the cold wall. 

“Do whatever you want,” I sigh, intertwining my hands in his dishevelled hair. I know it’s wrong, but if I keep my eyes closed I can almost feel Jungkook’s embrace. His veiny hands on my thighs as we both gasp for air from the sinful kisses. All that, of course, is merely the work of my imagination. At that moment, it’s not Jungkook's hands, not his lips, not him. With all the alcohol in my system, my body has become numb to external sensations until a familiar melody rings from my purse. Speaking of the devil, it’s Jungkook. Did my heartbeat increase? Maybe. 

“Come over y/n,” Jungkook says, his voice raspy and harsh as he presses on the gas pedal, speeding by the passing cars towards the night club. 

“Can’t baby, I’m a bit busy,” I whisper softly, breath hitched from the sudden feel of the guy’s hand on my ass. As he leaves a trail of kisses on my exposed collarbone I bite down on my lip, until a small moan escapes my mouth. 

“Y/n, who is that?” Jungkook growls at the sound coming from his phone. One that is too familiar for his liking as his imagination runs wild, connecting the dots regarding the context of the situation. Closing his eyes for a moment, he can picture your form in a tight dress that pushes your cleavage up with your hair laid perfectly over your shoulders. Just the way he likes it. Fuck, he thinks to himself. 

“Sorry, I have to go,” I yelp, dropping the phone on the floor as my hands now rest on his chest. Lifting my fatigued body onto the countertop, my legs naturally wrap around his torso. It hurts to do this to Jungkook but damn, does he deserve it. It’s time he finally gets a taste of his own medicine. 

- -

Jungkook’s POV

Turning off the engine, I rush towards the entrance of the club passing by half-naked women who clearly had way too much fun. As one of them stops in front of me, I look around the crowded place trying to spot y/n in the neon lights. 

“Dance with me, pretty boy,” she says, placing her hands on my jean jacket as her shivering body leans closer to mine. She’s young. Too young. No amount of makeup can cover up those naive eyes.

“Sorry love, I’m here for my own drunkhead,” I say with a wink, before noticing Jinni dozed off in the lounge area. Pushing past the wave of people, the smell of alcohol in their system can be detected from two blocks away. 

“Jinni! Jinni, wake up. Where’s y/n??” I yell through the blaring music, slightly moving her shoulders in hopes that it’ll wake her up. How does one even fall asleep when Nicki Minaj’s ‘Super Bass’ is basically shouting at you? Nonetheless, I try to catch her attention as our eyes finally lock. 

“Jungkooook, I’m sorryyy. I told y/n to stop drinking but she wouldn’t listen. I swear, I turned my head for one second and then boom, she was gone,” Jinni cries out, covering her flushed face in her palms before looking up at my concerned expression. 

“That’s ok Jinni, just stay here I’m gonna look for her,” I say calmly, putting my jacket over her exposed legs before heading back towards the dance floor. Where could y/n be? Dialing her phone number the signal goes straight to voicemail. Shit. 

It’s been about 10 minutes and I swear I’ve been going in circles. I’d already mistaken four different girls for y/n, yet she is still nowhere to be found, that is until I saw the barely lit restroom sign at the back of the club. Wouldn’t hurt to check, right? 

Walking past the men’s restroom I’m certain that y/n was sober enough to recognize the difference between the two. So, I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. No answer. I mean what was I expecting? She is probably passed out on the toilet or something. Placing a few more knocks, this time with more power, I’m interrupted by a series of soft moans. I might have lost half of my hearing since I got here, but her pretty voice, yeah … I can recognize it anywhere. Pushing the door open, my eyes focus on her heaving chest as some dumbass tightens his grip on her waist. 

“Get the fuck off of her!” I growl, pushing him to the wall as my fist meets his face. Three punches in and his nose began to bleed before y/n stepped in front of me. Eyes locked on my tense face, she places her hands on my burning chest, begging me to stop as my vision gets blurry. 

“Jungkook please,” she cries out, pulling my arms towards her chest to prevent another hit. Gaze focused on her teary eyes, I let out a deep sigh, tilting my head as an indication for the guy to leave. Which he does immediately. 

“Y/n, what are you doing having stranger’s hands all over you?” I yell out, a bit too harshly than I wanted to. But I couldn’t help it. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as she suddenly dropped my arms, wiping the tears off of her face. 

“No better than being touched by a cheater, right?” she scoffs, shaking her head at my remark. 

“How many times do you want me to apologize? What else do you want me to do? Do you want me to beg for you? I can beg for you,” I whisper into her ear, nibbling on the soft skin before getting on my knees. Looking up at her darkened eyes, I pull her body closer before tracing small circles on her soft skin. Moving her leg over my shoulder I begin to place a trail of soft kisses up her shivering limb, gaze focused on her whimpering pretty face. Each kiss was followed by a sinful plea.

“That’s it, baby, just relax,” 

Previous l Next

[dodger-chan]

Some untitled platonic stobin angst for you all, set in July of '85. Apologies and thanks to @sharpbutsoft; I'll write something happier next time.

(also on ao3, for those of you who prefer interacting with fics there)

“Not bad for a guy who didn’t realize gay people existed two weeks ago.”

Steve would have been annoyed that Robin thought he was that dumb, but really, he was too relieved she was able to joke about it. The day he’d gotten out of the hospital she’d been skittish. Like she’d thought he’d start hating her once the world went back to normal.

As if he could ever hate Robin.

“I knew gay people existed.” He still couldn’t roll his eyes without thinking he was going to puke, but he could use scorn. “I just didn’t think you could be gay.”

“Really?” She sounded surprised. “I mean, I know I’m not, you know, obvious, because I’ve never had ‘dyke’ painted on my locker or had other girls not want me in the locker room. But, I kind of feel like I should be? Or, not like people would know I’m gay immediately, but that it shouldn’t surprise them when they find out? Like, I’ve never dated a boy, and I don’t like to wear make-up, and my taste in clothes- Though I guess you only saw me in my Scoops uniform. Or only remembered me that way. But I’d literally just told you that I’d had a crush on a girl. Which, even without everything else, is kind of a dead giveaway.”

“True, no normal girl would like Tammy Thompson.” He was never going to let her live that crush down.

“First, the word is ‘straight.’ Don’t say ‘normal’ like that. It makes it sound like there’s something wrong with me.” Steve nodded. There was nothing wrong with Robin. Except her lack of self-confidence. And maybe her taste in women. But he could help her with those things. “Second, I had a crush on Tammy for like three months almost two years ago. I have pined hopelessly over plenty of other, much cooler girls since.”

“Anyone at the moment?” he asked. Robin glanced away from him, so yes, there was. “Okay, who is she?”

“Thirdly,” Robin ignored his question. “What did you mean I couldn’t be gay?”

Steve did not want to answer that.

“Whoever she is, she can’t be as lame as Tammy.” Steve really hoped Robin would let him change the subject. “Still not cool enough to date you, but-”

“Steve.” She wasn’t going to. “You think I’m not going to like your answer. It’s bad, is that it?”

“Yep.”

Robin took a breath.

“Okay. Well, whatever awful shit you thought in the past, you obviously don’t believe it anymore, right? So, bad or not, it doesn’t change where we are now.” Steve was pretty sure it could, or Robin wouldn’t be asking him. “Though, it’s not that you thought I was too pretty to be gay, right? Because that stereotype has always bothered me.”

“No! Not that you’re not pretty. Gorgeous, even. If I were your type, I’d still be totally into you.” Steve still was into her, but it was getting a bit less romantic every day. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, Dingus.”

“No, that’s why. Why I thought you had to be, you know,” normal, “straight.”

Robin frowned at him.

“You thought you couldn’t fall for a girl who couldn’t like you back?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

“What then?”

“It’s hard to explain.” It barely made sense inside his own head. Putting it in words, making it all make sense to someone else might be impossible.

“Scoops burned down with the mall, Steve. I’ve got nowhere else to be until we get a new job.”

“Okay, well, you know how people say that gay couples don’t really love each other the way, um, straight ones do?”

“Yeah, and it’s complete and utter bullshit.”

Sure, Steve knew that now. But before Robin how was he supposed to learn any different?

“Right. But I’m an idiot, remember? So what I thought was that gay people were somehow unlovable. Not just romantically,” he explained. “Friends wouldn’t be able to love them either. Or their families. Everyone who was supposed to love them just couldn’t. Even if they tried. It wouldn’t be their fault, really, but-

“But I fell for you. It wasn’t just that you were beautiful. Or funny. Or smart. Or that you were there and didn’t hate me as much as you pretended to. I loved you enough to stop being all hung up over Nancy. And since I loved you-”

“I had to be straight.” Robin finished for him. “The logic’s sound-ish, but your premise is absurd. People aren’t unlovable, for one. Besides, wouldn’t that lead to people identifying gay kids early on? If a parent didn’t love their toddler, wouldn’t they want to know why?”

“Maybe. But it’s not like it’s something they’d talk about. What parent is going to admit they don’t love their kid before it’s obvious to everyone else who the problem is?” Robin scowled at him. It was a scowl that said she didn't like his answer, not that she thought he was wrong. He liked that he could tell the difference.

“You’re such a weirdo, Dingus.” Robin leaned her head against his shoulder. Gently, careful not to jostle him. “How did anyone ever think you were normal? Did we just know you were good at basketball and never listen to anything you said?”

“I’m better at swimming.” He also hadn’t said much at school. Talked a lot, sure. Or, at least, as much as everyone else.

“Yeah, yeah. And you can talk to girls without stuttering and chug beer while doing a headstand. All hail King Steve and his perfect hair. We payed so much attention to you that we didn’t pay any at all.” He’d never thought of it that way. “And we overlooked how weirdly your brain works.”

“If it works at all,” he said, with a soft laugh.

“It works fine,” Robin disagreed. “Just, kind of backwards? Or sideways, maybe? I mean, you thought gay people were unlovable when pretty much everyone else thinks we don’t love at all.”

“Don’t love? But that’s clearly stupid.” Steve didn’t think he’d ever heard a dumber idea and he’d spent most of his life hanging out with Tommy H. and Carol. “Loving someone is easy. It’s like a layup.”

“Some people are bad at basketball, Steve.” That was fair. Dustin would probably have trouble with a layup. He might even have trouble dribbling. “Is it really easier to think people are unlovable than to think some people might be bad at loving?”

There was a pulsing sound in Steve’s ears. He wasn’t sure if it was from his headache or his heartbeat.

“I never had trouble loving people.” It was almost an admission. He didn’t think he could get any closer.

“Oh, Steve.” Robin was smart. She could hear what he hadn’t said.

[ahonice]

it doesn't matter

jamie drysdale x fem reader (ft. trevor zegras)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: drinking, sexual themes and mentions of sex, cursing, jamie being a fake swiftie (dw that is taken care of), reader has a guilty conscious, fluff (some angst i think), happy ending (those are rare on this blog), not proofread because i accidentally queued this so it posted on its own oops

note: i rewrote this about three times over the past two months, hope you guys are pleased with the final outcome. any and all feedback is greatly appreciated. hope you guys enjoy. have a great day, love y’all babes <3 !!!

+++

“hey you’re single right?” your head shot up at the sound of trevor, one of your closest friends, voice. you had known trevor since you moved to anaheim for college, on your first day in town he accidentally took your coffee from the pickup area at starbuck and you chased him down because you would be damned if you spent ten dollars on an iced coffee that you wouldn’t of been able to drink. it would’ve been a lie if you said you didn’t have a crush on him, he was so funny and kind and not to mention the fact that he is genuinely gorgeous, but you never acted on anything because you were worried he wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and the fact that the two of you have had one too many drunken, and a couple sober, hookups didn’t help either.

“of course i am, or else what we did last night would’ve been morally wrong, why?” your heart rate picked up, thoughts running a mile a minute. was he about to ask you out? did he actually like you back the way you dreamed he did? was our relationship finally gonna be something more than friends who fuck at times?

“i wanna set you up with my roommate, jamie. i think you guys would like each other.”

+++

it was a crushing blow, not only did trevor just inadvertently just tell you your feelings are one sided, but that they are so one sided that he thinks his roommate would be a better match for you than himself. you felt sick to your stomach, this was in no way a heartbreak, but that doesn’t mean it can’t hurt.

“earth to y/n.” trevor’s voice shook you from your trance, you had completely forgotten he was there. “you good? you haven’t said a word in like five minutes.”

“yeah i’m fine, um who is this guy? i don’t think i’ve heard you talk about a jamie before.” you wanted this to be a joke, for trevor to say he was kidding, maybe jamie wasn’t real and he just wanted to see if i was open to a relationship right now. 

“well he’s on the ducks as well, seems like your type. brunette with blue eyes, he’s got nice eyebrows too, just a couple weeks older than you, i know you don’t like extremely tall guys so him being 5’11 is perfect.” the more trevor went on about jamie the more you realized that jamie was in fact a real person and did seem like my exact type. “he has freckles too, i know you love those on guys and he looks good in the color green, he checks off all your boxes y/n.” you hated that he did. 

“can i see a picture before i agree to anything?” you didn’t want trevor to get suspicious when you said no, so you wanted to seem like you were at least considering it.

“absolutely.” looking over at trevor’s phone you let out a small sound of surprise.

he was gorgeous

“trevor why have you never told me about him before?” you said, grabbing his phone to go through all of his instagram posts. “he is literally beautiful!” 

“i honestly didn’t even think about it, but jamie saw you at our party last week and asked about you and i knew i had to make you two happen.” trevor said, taking his phone back. “come over tonight. we’re having a party before the season starts, you’ll be able to meet jamie.”

+++

it didn’t take you very long to get ready, your hair and makeup having already been done from your errands earlier in the day, but you did struggle picking out an outfit as every twenty year old girl would. you didn’t quite know who it was that you were dressing up for, in previous months it was always trevor. you were always hoping that he would see you and you would end up staying with him until the morning. while that was usually the case, the second part of your fantasy never came true. the part where trevor realizes he has feelings for you that go further than seeing you as a good fuck. but now there was jamie, you hadn’t even met him yet and you were still wanting to impress him. maybe trevor would see you with jamie and it would make him realize his feelings for you. but jamie seemed nice, once trevor left you looked him up and watched a few too many tiktoks and interviews involving him, he seemed like the polar opposite of trevor and that might just be what you need, it also doesn’t hurt that he was just about one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen in your life, trevor was not lying when he said that jamie was your exact type. settling on a simple pink top and black jeans you made your way towards the uber trevor had ordered for you, palms sweaty and legs slightly shaking as you confirmed where you were headed before you saw your apartment complex disappear in the distance. 

+++

“y/n thank god you’re here, i was starting to think you were pussying out.” trevor loudly yelled as he approached you, great he was already at least three drinks in. “catch up” he said once he was standing in front of you, handing you a beer. 

“i don’t drink this crap, you know this.” you said, shaking your head as trevor silently continued to push the can in your face.

“fine, i bought you some caymans. they’re in the garage fridge, but don’t take too long, jamie is excited to meet you.” you ignored the way his eyebrows wiggled as you began walking towards the garage.

once you were in there you grabbed two drinks, just so you wouldn’t have to come back out for at least half an hour, as well as a shooter. you needed the liquid confidence that would come from the tiny bottle of pink whitney. 

once you made your way back into the party you walked around looking for trevor, stopping a couple of times to greet those you knew, before you found him sitting with the man of the hour.

“y/n! come here, meet jamie.” trevor waved you over, you took a generous sip of the alcohol in your hand before making your way over, sitting down on the couch. trevor in the middle of us, as he began rambling to no one in particular about something you didn’t quite know, your ears tuning him out as the sound of your heartbeat in your ears took over all your senses. 

“y/n, are you even listening to me?” trevor asked you, gently poking the exposed part of your waist.

“no.” the laugh you heard after that made a bush creep up your neck, jamie’s laugh was just as beautiful as he was.

“rude, anyways y/n this is jamie. jamie, this is y/n.” he motioned the two of you towards each other as he talked, jamie reached in front of him to offer you his hand. “now get to know one another, i’m gonna go play pong.” trevor stood up before you could protest him leaving you alone with jamie.

you expected it to be awkward, but it wasn’t. conversation was flowing between the two of you like you had known each other for years, you talked about the basics, what tv shows you enjoyed, favorite movies, taste in music, which then led to a thirty minute discussion about taylor swift and how jamie claimed he was a swiftie but couldn’t name any songs that weren’t played on the radio

“i have a lot to teach you i guess.” you were definitely making it obvious that you were interested in him, but you didn’t care. you’d usually be so shy around a guy so cute, but something about jamie made you calm, that was the simplest way to put it.

“i would love that.” the blush on his face matched yours. you smiled at him, contemplating whether or not you wanted to ask the question you had been wanting the answer to all night.

“so why have i never seen you around or met you before? i’ve known trevor for almost two years now, and i’m over here quite a lot.” 

“i usually just stay in my room all day, especially during parties, i’m not the biggest fan of them.”

“then why are you out here right now and not bunkered up in your room?”

“i wanted to meet you, to get to know you.” jamie answered, scratching the back of his head and giving you a sheepish smile. “i came downstairs last weekend to grab something from the kitchen and that's when i saw you, i really lucked out that you are friends with trevor or else i probably never would’ve been able to find out who you were.” 

you nodded at his response, informing him that you were glad you were friends with trevor too.

“speaking of him, i was hoping to see him again before i left.” you told jamie, standing up from your spot on the couch noticing his slightly upset expression. “let me give you my number, i would love to see you again, maybe begin my lessons on taylor swift to you.” 

“i would love that.”

+++

after exchanging contact information with jamie you made your way outside towards the pong tables, hoping that trevor would still be out there. 

“hey trevor, i was just about to leave, wanted to say goodbye.” you said approaching him in the dimly lit yard.

“you’re leaving already? i didn’t even get any time with you.” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder his arms loosely around your waist. 

“sorry trev, but i got to know jamie. don’t let this get to your head, but i think you might be a pretty good wingman.” you joked, your arms around his neck gently running your hands through the ends of his hair. it wasn’t abnormal for the two of you to be so affectionate, so this felt normal.

“good, i’m glad.” his tone didn’t sound like his statement, but you could easily chalk that up to the alcohol in his system finally wearing him down. 

“why don’t i help you get into bed? basically everyone has left already.” you suggested, forcing his head up to meet yours at your eye level.

he smirked before responding. “i like where this was going.” 

“nothing like that buddy, besides you just set me up with your best friend that wouldn’t be a good idea, don’t you think?”

“that's not fair, you can’t do that.” he mumbled, his head dropping back down into the crook of your neck. “you can’t say you're taking me to bed, and then not take me to bed the way i want you to take me to bed."

you rolled your eyes at his comment and began dragging him back inside and up towards his room. once you wrestled him out of his jeans, giving up on putting pants on him because of his multiple attempts to lure you into bed, you got him to lay down and made sure he was comfortable before you headed downstairs to get some water and pain killers for him to take once he woke up in the morning. 

“goodnight trevor.”

you made your way outside onto the front lawn while you waited for your uber to arrive. you usually would’ve taken trevor up on his offer to spend the night with him, but something about even just thinking about doing that was now making you feel guilty. it wasn’t like you and jamie were in a committed relationship or anything, but he seemed to genuinely like you and was actually interested in getting to know you and you didn’t want to do anything to sabotage that.

+++

from: unknown number

can we meet up today for coffee or lunch? i would love to start becoming a real swiftie.

to: unknown number

am i right in assuming this is jamie??

from: unknown number 

yes ��

to: jamie🤭

i would love to meet up.

to: jamie🤭

could we get lunch? i am literally starving because of my hangover.

from: jamie🤭

absolutely. send me your address, i’ll come pick you up. 

+++

you were in full panic mode, you had no idea what to wear and the fact that it was visibly obvious that you were hungover didn’t help at all. you told jamie to give you at least thirty minutes, after he told you that an hour was too long. 

you took the fastest shower you ever have in your life before tackling the biggest issue, your outfit. you went through every drawer, bin, and your closet before you decided on biker shorts and a crewneck. you could only hope that jamie wasn’t planning on taking you somewhere with a dress code. 

makeup was applied and your hair was pulled into a claw clip before jamie texted you that he was outside, you did some final touches before you made your way out of your apartment complex. you lucked out seeing that jamie was in a comfy outfit just like you were. once you were buckled up jamie handed you his phone and told you to pick the music before driving off.

+++

“so what is your all time favorite taylor swift song?” jamie asked once he joined you in the booth you found for the two of you, he had taken you to in and out claiming he was craving a burger, and you didn’t complain because you would never pass up the opportunity to fuck up some animal fries.

“i don’t have just one, i think it is humanly impossible to have just one.” you told him, taking a sip of your lemonade before continuing. “i do, however, have a list of my top sixteen songs by her in no particular order.”

“sixteen songs? that’s insane.” 

“she has over two hundred songs, you’ve got a lot of listening to do.”

“well why don’t you give me your list of songs, the only ones i really care about are the ones you like.” you blushed at his words, before stating all of your favorite songs by her. his only responses were “i don’t know that one, never heard of it, i know that one, wait no i don’t”

once you were done and jamie confirmed all the songs were now added to his spotify you two began eating as you gave him a run down of her career.

“so who is your favorite and least favorite ex of hers?”

“i hope you don’t have plans for the rest of the day because i have a lot to say on this.”

+++

“do you want to get dessert? there is a nice ice cream place a few minutes from here.” jamie asked while you two were walking around huntington beach. you didn’t even realize how long the two of you had been hanging out until he asked if you wanted to get dinner, and now three hours after that when he is now asking to get dessert. 

“yea i would love to.” he smiled down at you and you made the move to hold his hand. “sorry, i hope this is ok, i just wanted to hold your hand.” you blushed, turning your head away from him.

“it’s ok, i wanted to as well.” he blushed as well before he began leading the way towards the ice cream shop. 

+++

“i had a lot of fun today, i was honestly a little nervous that with both of us sober it would be a little awkward, but it wasn’t and i would like to see you again. soon. sorry if that is a bit forward.” you told jamie as he pulled up in front of your apartment.

“i’d like to see you soon too, like tomorrow soon. are you busy tomorrow? we could get dinner, a nice place this time, not that in and out and qdoba aren’t nice it’s just-”

“yea i would love to, just send me the restaurants info before so i can figure out what to wear.”

“you’ll look beautiful in whatever you wear y/n.” you blushed at jamie’s comment before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. you were quick to get out of the car, yelling a goodbye as you ran into the front doors of your building.

+++

“finally you’re back. where the hell were you? i’ve been here for hours.” 

“how the hell did you get into my apartment trevor?” you asked the boy who was sprawled out across your couch eating your food. “stop eating my wheat thins asshole.”

“i found your spare key, i mean hiding it on the top of the door frame is just a horrible idea y/n.” trevor said as he went back into your kitchen, hopefully to put your snacks away.

“what are you doing her trev?” you asked, taking your shoes off before making your way into the living room.

“where were you? you’re never out late, and i got here at like two and it’s now eleven. did you pick up a shift?” trevor was quick to join you on the couch, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the two of you.

“no, i was actually with jamie, he picked me up at noon to get lunch and then we spent the whole day together.” you blushed remembering how much fun you had today and how it was the first time in a while that you had enjoyed a date that much.

“oh, i didn’t realize that you two were getting along that well.” trevor said, reaching towards the table to grab the remote. “what the hell did you two talk about for nearly twelve hours? jamie cannot be that interesting of a guy.”

“we started off talking about taylor swift and how he is a fake swiftie, just like you are.” trevor cut you off with a gasp and hit you with the pillow he was using. “and then we talked about our childhoods, stories from school and growing up where we did.” you smiled at nothing, just reflecting on this one story jamie had told you about his worst halloween costume, which you then one upped with your own horrible halloween story. “thanks for pushing me to meet him trevor, i know it’s only been a day but i feel an actual connection with him and i can’t remember the last time i felt that with a guy.” 

+++

you and jamie had been going on dates multiple times a week for the past month now and tonight the team had the night off and jamie was taking you to his favorite restaurant for date night. you weren’t dating, yet, but both you and jamie have spoken about it as something you both want. it’s just up to when the timing is right.

“where is he taking you out tonight?” trevor asked you as he joined you in your bedroom. you called him over to help you pick out an outfit for tonight.

“cortina’s” it wasn’t a black tie restaurant, but it wasn’t a jeans and a tshirt restaurant either. “i was thinking my black leather pants and then a nice top, maybe my pink top with the mesh sleeves?” you were met with silence from your best friend, “hello? earth to trevor.”

“sorry what?” you rolled your eyes before entering the bathroom, changing into the outfit you had in mind. “what do you think?”

“i think that jamie isn’t coming to pick you up for another two hours and that gives us plenty of time to have some fun.” trevor said, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving you open mouth kisses on the exposed skin of your neck down to your shoulder, you let yourself revel in the feeling before you snapped back into your senses.

“trevor stop.” you pushed his arms off of you as you distanced yourself from him. “trevor you can’t do that, we can’t do this anymore.”

“why not y/n? you and jamie aren’t dating, there is nothing wrong with it. it’s been a month and i’m getting frustrated.” he groaned, flopping down onto your bed.

“that is not my issue trev, don’t blame me. i can guarantee that there are at least one hundred girls in your dm’s right now who would be willing to hook up with you, go bother one of them.” you snapped back at him, not in the mood.

“i don’t want some random girl, i want you y/n. aren’t you in the mood even a little bit, it’s been a month for you too.” you avoided his eyes as you made your way to your vanity to begin your makeup. “wait have you been fucking jamie? what the fuck y/n?”

“trevor you have no right to be upset, we are nothing. you were the one who set us up. isn’t this what you wanted?”

“no this isn’t what i wanted, i should’ve just made jamie make a move on his own. if that was the case you would still have no idea who the hell he was because jamie is too much of a little-”

“get out.” you cut trevor off before he could say anything worse. “trevor get out and don’t talk to me until you manage to get your head out of your ass.”

+++

“is everything okay? you seem a bit off.” jamie asked, he was right. after your argument with trevor you had been a bit out of it, the guilt of what you had done with trevor in the past was eating away at you. “could we talk about it later? i don’t want to ruin dinner.” your voice was shaky as you spoke.

“yes of course, but i’m gonna be honest i’m a little worried now.” jamie said, playing with the napkin on his lap. 

“i am too, don't worry.” your attempt at a joke didn’t help, but thankfully the waiter came to take our orders. 

+++

dinner was terrible. 

you two tried your hardest to have everything be normal and how things had been in the past month, but both of you were worried about what you had to say. jamie was scared you were gonna break things off with him, he was already nervous for tonight because he was going to ask to make things official between you two, and now he was even more on edge. while you were worried that after you told him about you and trevor’s past that he would no longer want anything to do with you and would break things off before they even got fully started. 

“so can you tell me what is going on?” jamie asked once you two had exited the restaurant and were sitting in his car.

“i want you to know that this started before i even knew you existed and it stopped the moment i met you.” you took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. “trevor and i had been hooking up, for nearly the whole time we were friends, but i swear to you the second i met you i cut it off. i’m really sorry for not telling you sooner, it’s just that i really, really, like you and i didn’t want anything to jeopardize that, even though keeping it a secret probably wasn’t the best alternative.” you looked out the window, avoiding his gaze, afraid of how badly he was judging you right now. “i understand if you don’t want to continue this anymore, you can just drop me off right here and i’ll uber home.”

“y/n. i don’t care.” you finally peeled your eyes away from the reflection of the cars in the side view mirror to see jamie looking at you with a smile. “your previous relationships are none of my business, yes it is a bit uncomfortable that he is my roommate and one of my closest friends, as well as one of yours, but i really, really, like you too so that doesn’t matter to me.” you smiled back at him, a few tears building up in your waterline. “i was actually going to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend, and i still want to. so y/n would you make me the happiest man alive and officially become my girlfriend?”

“yes jamie, i would be honored.” you leaned over the center console and kissed his cheek, to not distract him from the road. “it sounds like you proposed jamie.” you laughed. “are things going to be weird around trevor for you?” you hated the idea of being the cause of their falling out, or to have any team problems sprout from this.

“yes.” jamie replied bluntly. “and i’m definitely not the biggest fan of you two hanging out without me there, at least for a little bit, but it’ll all work out. i won’t let it get to me or my game, but the second he makes a comment about you it’s over.”

you giggled before replying with a short “got it.” and placed your hand over his.

“and don’t worry, i never plan on going anywhere without you drysdale. you’re gonna have to start coming to girls' nights too.”

+++

note: i actually rewrote this three times and each time the plot was different, the last version was so much juicer and had so much drama (trevor realized he was in love with reader, but he was too late dun dun DUNNNN) but i cut that out because i couldn’t get the wording right. anyways i hope y’all enjoyed, leave feedback (any and all is appreciated), have a great day, i love y’all babes <3 !!!

[fyreflys]

Prompt if you’d like it! Peeta giving his cold to Katniss on accident but since she no longer has a spleen, it turns into a more flu like illness for poor Katniss and Peeta must nurse her back to health (similar to her caring for him in the cave but ya know… #married)

Oooo this is an adorable idea! And I got another prompt that I think I can include that would work perfectly together. MERGE TIME!

Chicken Noodle Soup

(Katniss’s POV) - Love and Some Verses, Iron & Wine

Everlark period/sick-fic, just fluff fluff fluff

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you sick.”

Is what Peeta keeps telling her. Constantly apologizing for transferring his cold. Even though Katniss didn’t even bother trying to keep her distance to avoid getting sick, so really it’s her own fault.

Katniss is pretty sure that no one ever really intentionally tries to get others sick, it’s always an accident. Happens as a result of what being sick means. And she knows Peeta didn’t do it on purpose, he couldn’t possibly have wanted to make her sick as a dog. So the fact that he keeps apologizing, as if there’s any possibility that he did do this on purpose, is beginning to make it feel like maybe he did. That, and it’s getting annoying. Very quickly.

“Peeta,” she groans, “Just- shut up.”

She doesn’t actually mean that. He’s really the only thing keeping her sane right now. She’s been bed ridden for three days now, and if her body didn’t feel like shit, there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for a hike in the woods.

“Sorry.” He whispers, dabbing the wet washcloth on her forehead.

Yesterday Peeta dragged her to the doctor, because he’s convinced she’s dying. The doctor just confirmed it’s a bad cold, made worse by the fact that Katniss no longer has a spleen to help her immune system. He gave them some medication that “might” help, and then sent them on their way.

Needless to say, Katniss was not happy. Mostly because Peeta had dragged her out of the house when she felt like shit for no apparent reason.

Peeta was angry too. Kept mumbling something about “malpractice” and the doctor being an “idiot” and then trying to convince her that they need to go to the Capital, to see a “real” doctor.

“Peeta, I’m not sure if you have forgotten, but I’m in exile. Banned, to stay here in twelve for the rest of my life. So no, we cannot go to the Capital.”

She doesn’t mention the fact that she really doesn’t want to be re-reminded of all the terrible things that they’ve seen and had happen to them; most of which happened in the Capital.

“You’re the mockingjay. If something was majorly wrong with you, they’d have to save you.”

“I don’t want to be the mockingjay, anymore.” She’d grumbled as he tucked her back into bed, “and I’ve lived through worse than this.”

He frowned. Much like he is right now, as he looks at her with those big, blue, pleading puppy dog eyes.

“What?” She rasps.

He licks his lips. “I just…I’m so sorry you’re sick.”

She swears his heart is too big for his own good.

“You know what would make me feel better?” She sighs.

He perks up. “What?”

“Cuddle.” She whispers. She’d usually reach out to grab him, but her body feels too much like lead to exert that much energy.

He smiles. “I can do that.”

He peels back the bedsheets, and Katniss shivers at what feels like freezing air. He curls in behind her, gently squeezing her close. She melts against him. The arm around her warm and comforting. Until his hand slips under her shirt and his fingers start tracing patterns on her side, and he begins to pepper kisses to her shoulders. Despite them being small and gentle touches, her nerves feel overly sensitive with how feverish she is, and each soft graze almost feels painful.

“Stop- please,” she whispers, “that- too sensitive.” She mumbles.

“Oh. Sorry.” He places one more peck to her cheek, and then leaves her be.

She falls into sleep like a rock tossed down a ravine, skipping sleep entirely and diving straight into dreams. The world feels like it’s tilting and spinning around her as she dreams. They start out as strange and uncomfortable, but somewhere along the way they get more and more unhinged, twisted visions persisting, until finally-

She startles awake suddenly, eyes snapping open as she gasps for air. The nightmare feels plastered to her eyelids.

“Peeta?” She croaks softly, heart hammering in her chest as a tear slips down her cheek.

But she’s alone. Peeta is nowhere to be seen. She forces herself to reach across the bed behind her in search of him. But he’s not there either.

Momentarily she fears he’s abandoned her, but then she realizes that’s ridiculous. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.

She tries to shake the nightmare from her head. Desperately trying to imagine something else, like- Deer. Deer and squirrels, prancing through the forest. The nightmare was not real not real not real, as Peeta would say.

She takes a deep breath. Her entire body aches painfully. Specifically her lower back and her hips and- oh.

Even sick, and aching all over, she knows this feeling well.

“Damn it.” She huffs.

She supposes it was about time this happened again. She doesn’t bother keeping track. There’s no use with how irregular she is.

“Peeta.” She calls, but her voice is weak.

He doesn’t come. Where is he? She sighs. She’s going to have to do this herself, isn’t she?

She wills herself to gather any remaining energy she has to sit up. It takes a few minutes to convince herself.

I could just wait here, until he comes back-

No.

She sits up suddenly, impulsively, not giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it. Her head spins, pain pounding through her skull. She coughs, clutching her head.

When the throbbing passes she manages to will her legs to dangle over the side of the bed. And then on the count of three she stands. She’s shaky, and the air is freezing agaisnt her feverish skin, and it’s awful.

Just get to the bathroom-

She makes it a few steps towards the door. And then she stumbles. She just barely catches the doorknob. She sends the door slamming closed as she falls.

“Katniss?!” Peeta shouts from down stairs.

She rolls over onto her back, and the world feels like it’s still spinning. He comes rushing into the bedroom, crouching down when he sees her.

“Oh my god are you okay?” Hands are immediately at her head, feeling for any bumps or bleeding, “What happened? Why are you out of bed?”

He sits and sets her head in his lap, brushing hair out of her face.

“Bathroom.” She whispers. “Just. Fell.”

“You should have called for me I would have helped.”

“I did.” She breathes, and even talking is exhausting. With Peeta right above her the world finally stops spinning.

He frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. I was making pasta.”

She takes in a breath through her mouth, nose too stuffy. “Bathroom.”

“Well- I think we should take a moment. You just- what, fell trying to walk? That’s pretty concerning,” He feels her forehead, “and you’re really burning up, gosh.”

She could have told him she had a fever. It feels like it’s radiating through her bones.

“Toilet,” her tongue clicks softly in her mouth, feeling dry, “Bleeding.”

“Bleeding? What- where? Why didn’t you say you were bleeding! Oh my god-“ he starts to shuffle, pulling at her clothes to find the source.

“Period.” She groans, just about fed up with him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Right. Okay. Let’s get that taken care of then.”

He shuffles to sit her up against the wall, and then scoops her up bridal style. He carefully sets her down by the toilet, holding on as he pulls down her sweats and underwear in one fell swoop.

And yep- there it is. A massacre in her pants.

Peeta helps her sit, making sure she’s stable enough to sit up on her own. He pulls off her sweats and underwear, turning on the sink to set them in.

“Cold,” she whispers.

“Cold? You’re cold?”

Well- yeah, she kind of is. Despite feeling like she’s burning up from the inside, the floor and the toilet seat and the air is freezing against her skin. But she’s referring to the water.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “But-water. Cold water.”

“You need cold water? I can get you water. You’re probably thirsty you’ve been asleep for like four hours.”

Okay, yes, that too. She could use a glass of water.

“Yes, but- blood. Needs cold water.”

“Oh! Yeah, okay. Cold water. Right.”

She closes her eyes, slumping on the toilet as she pees. Peeta leaves to grab stuff from the bedroom. He returns with a fresh pair of clothes. He holds a cup of water up to her lips, and she sips. It feels like heaven down her throat.

“Thanks.” She breathes.

He just pecks her forehead. “How bout I run you a short bath? Luke warm. Try to get your body temp down. And you could really use a shower.”

She groans.

“I know- I know. But it will make you feel better, I promise.”

She just grumbles. He gets to work running a bath, and then scrubs the blood out of her underwear under the sink. He struggles to get a pad into the clean pair of undies, and Katniss finally wills herself to use the little energy she does have to show him. He kisses her cheek.

“Right. Got it. Now let’s get you in.”

She complains, but doesn’t have the energy to fight against him. He pulls off her sweaty t-shirt, and picks her up and sets her down in the tub. The water feels freezing at first. She yelps, clutching at him.

“I know- I know it feels cold but I promise it will help. You’re burning up Katniss. We need to cool you down.”

She holds onto him, and he presses kisses against her head. After a few minutes it starts to feel okay. He gently pours water through her hair. He scrubs in shampoo and rinses. He gently scrubs her with a warm soapy washcloth after he pulls the drain, just under her arms and between her legs, barely batting an eye at the blood. They’ve both seen enough of it for a lifetime. He turns on the shower head to rinse her off. The water feels like freezing needles against her overly sensitive skin. By the time he gets her out and finishes toweling her off she’s pissed.

She glowers at him from the toilet as he dresses her. He ignores her scathing eyes as he sprays in conditioner and brushes her hair, fumbling to put it in a makeshift braid.

“There! See, all better!” He smiles when he’s done.

She is not amused. Yes, her body feels less like a boiling fire, but she still hurts. And despite him doing all the work, she’s exhausted. But she’s too angry and stubborn to admit it, or even consider closing her eyes for some shut eye.

He chuckles. “You’re such a sourpuss when you’re sick, you know that?”

“That was hell.” She snips.

He rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, okay Haymitch.”

He pulls her off the toilet and pulls up her underwear and pants. He gently scoops her up.

“You want to set up camp downstairs on the couch? That way it’s easier to get my attention if you need something. Also I’m making you soup.”

She gives a grunt, and winces as the pain that radiates up and down her spine and belly.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers.” He adds on.

She would usually turn those down. But at this point she’ll take them.

He gently lays her on the couch. He runs back upstairs to grab linens. He comes back down with arms full of blankets and pillows. He drops them in a heap on the floor. He leaves again. Katniss looses track of all the things he runs off and gets, eyes slipping closed.

He takes her temperature.

He hisses, “One o’ two. Yeah. You’re definitely getting meds.” Which he shoves into her mouth very shortly afterward. He tries not to look worried, but she can tell that he is. She’s worse than she was yesterday. He forces her to take the medication the doctor gave them the day before. She doesn’t have the energy to fight him.

He tucks her in under one blanket, but gives her plenty of pillows. He sets tissues and a glass of water on the side table next to her head. He kisses her forehead.

“Anything else you need?” He says softly.

Probably. But right now she’s exhausted. And talking is too much energy. So she just hums.

“Okay. Soup should be ready in thirty minutes or so. Do you want me to wake you up or let you sleep?”

Truthfully, she wants him to curl in beside her on the couch and not leave her side. Because with him pressed against her, she has a semblance of relief.

Instead she just grunts. He pecks her forehead again, chuckling softly.

“Okay.”

And then she’s left alone. And despite being tired, she can’t seem to fall sleep. The pain is just too much. Enough that she’d toss and turn, but she doesn’t have the energy to do so. So instead she lays motionless in agony, waiting for meds to kick in.

It’s possible she does drift off. But it seems like each time her eyes open the grandfather clock by her mothers old bedroom door hasn’t moved an inch.

Finally Peeta reappears, with a steaming bowl in hands.

“Chicken noodle soup, for m’lady.” He bows, just for the dramatics.

He helps her sit up, and carefully spoons it to her lips. With how much pain shes in, the thought of food makes her nauseous. But Peeta coaxes her to eat. And she does. One small spoonful at a time. With how stuffed her nose is she can barely taste it, but what she does taste is good.

And it reminds her of the cave, in their first games. As she spoon fed him. Monitoring his leg. Trying everything she could think of to keep him alive.

Thankfully, now is nothing like that. This is peaceful, and warm, and safe.

With food in her belly she realizes how hungry she is. And she just about scarfs down the rest of the bowl, along with the hunk of bread he dips in the broth. And she feels like she has a little more energy.

“You want more?” He asks softly.

She shakes her head. She feels too full. Any more and she might puke.

“Your appetite is back. That’s a good thing.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.” She grumbles.

“Like- actually?” He freezes, shifting as if ready to grab a bin.

“No- just- a lot of food. Nauseous from the pain.”

He frowns. “The pain meds should have kicked in already. You look better. Less pale.” He feels her forehead. “You don’t feel as hot.”

She winces. “Cramps.”

His face relaxes. “Oh.”

She closes her eyes. With a full belly she’s ready to pass out.

“What if…I tried to rub them out?” He says softly.

Her eyes flicker open lazily. “Please. And- my back- please.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He leans in press a kiss to her forehead.

He gently pushes her to lay down. He tugs up her shirt and pulls the waistband of her pajama pants lower.

“Where does it hurt?” He asks softly.

She slowly moves to touch, fingers almost feeling numb against her own skin as she traces just inside of her pelvic crests, and down below her belly button. His warm hands are still almost too much against her feverish skin when he reaches out. But she needs this.

He’s far too gentle.

“Harder,” she whispers, “like bread.”

He’s good at kneading bread.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you-“

“There’s no way you could make me feel worse than I already do. Please.”

And finally his palms and thumbs press in. She urges more, and more, and finally gets impatient and shifts his hands to press right there and- oh. It feels so good she actually moans.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” She gasps.

He grins wickedly. But doesn’t comment on any more of her breathless gasps as he digs in and finally gives her relief.

“When- you’re done,” she breathes, “gonna need- bathroom.”

He pauses, “Do you have to pee? I’m literally pressing like right on your bladder-“

“No- new pad.” Because he’s quite literally kneading the blood right out of her. Which would usually be disgusting, but right now the relief feels too good for her to care.

“Oh. Okay.” And he keeps going.

She nearly falls asleep with his hands on her stomach. She still hurts, and the pain still radiates through her bones, but the stretch of her cramping muscles is almost heavenly. She closes her eyes, and Peeta presses kisses to her shoulders, trailing down to her stomach. He rubs softly after he pulls back, hands sliding over her hips.

“You want me to do your back?” He asks softly.

She hums. He helps flip her over. His hands and fingers roam over her skin, pressing and pulling all the way up her spine and between her shoulders. She practically melts into the couch as he soothes her aches. His lips ghost over her skin in subtle kisses, and she never wants it to end.

Eventually he pulls away, tugging her shirt back down.

“Bathroom?” He asks.

She grumbles. “Don’t wanna move.”

He hums. He forces her off the couch anyways, and drags her to the bathroom. She changes things herself, and then he helps her back to the couch.

“I’m gonna eat and then we can snuggle. If you want. I can turn on the TV.”

She just grunts. He turns on the screen above their fireplace mantle, and flips through channels. He lands on a show they’ve binge watched over the years, and then leaves for the kitchen. She zones out the sounds and clatter that he makes. Finally he sits down by her feet with a bowl of soup, and her eyelids feel heavy. She drifts halfway between awake and asleep, until he curls up with her. He presses a kiss to her temple.

“Thank you.” She whispers. He’s done more than enough for her. And she knows he’d do everything if he had to. And she is thankful.

“Of course.” He breathes. And pecks her lips.

She smiles, and uses the little energy she does have to snake an arm around him and hold him close. Their foreheads knock together.

“I love you.” He breathes softly.

She hums, “Love you too.”

[alonetimelover]

Action! - champagne problems - 2020

Pairings: Harry Styles x Director!Reader (she/her)

Summary: YN thinks Harry wants to save their relationship after the big fight they had two weeks ago. Harry thinks that too. But their definitions of saving are diametrically different.

Warnings: angst! mention of unloving family

Word count: ~3,0k

A/N: After a few messages I decided to let you know how exactly the break up between YN and Harry happened. It can be read as a second part to tolerate it. And of course it's based on champagne problems by Taylor Swift and has some other songs lyrics in it. Enjoy!

series masterlist let's talk about action!universe

my love 👨‍🎤

i'll be home today

i have a surprise for you, can you please get ready for 6? H

Two messages. 

First ones after two weeks of silence. Two weeks of contemplating over what had happened and what would happen. Two weeks of going to sleep on the cold bed and waking up to even colder one. Two weeks of being alone with her thoughts, feelings, regrets, promises and sadness. Fourteen days. 

Day after the other, she sank deeper and deeper into her lake of self-destructive thoughts. She wallowed in them. And as much as she’d loved water since being a little baby, she was drowning. And there was no saving. 

At exactly 6 pm the doorbell rang. In her white heels tapping on the floor and beige skirt flowing with her, YN anxiously walked to the door opening it. 

There he was, cream trousers, white tee with Hawaiian shirt on top of it, flowers - florists bouquet of pink roses - in his right hand. Harry sported a look of pure ‘I don’t know what I am doing’ hidden behind his ‘I’m so happy to see you’ persona. But YN knew him well enough to look past that, and he - at least she hoped so - knew her perfectly as well, feeling her uneasiness. And they both decided to ignore it. What more could go wrong?

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

No one would believe they were the people that spent a full 22 hours talking without taking a break. No one. No one even would have think they were once unstoppable, inseparable. No one would believe there once was love, yearning, appreciation or desire. Those people couldn’t be the one standing there.

“I see you’re ready?”

“Yeah, I - I’m just gonna grab my bag and we can go.”

No kiss hello. No ‘how are you?’. No ‘you look great’. They couldn’t even speak normally with each other. Two weeks just snapped them - or rather only YN - out of her blissful belief that everything was good. Now, everything was in its true colours. 

“We can go,” she said after coming back with a little white bag in hand. 

“Ladies first.” Harry gestured towards the door. 

The drive to the restaurant was spent in silence. No conversation or radio going on in the background. Not even a sound of the car - his electric one being so quiet. It wasn’t a comfortable silence they’d been used to, that they’d enjoyed having once in a while. This one brought discomfort. To Harry, because of the plan that he had created just this morning. And to YN, because it - them - felt even more done for than after that fight which had caused Harry to leave her alone in their once shared house. 

The restaurant was an… let’s say odd choice. 

It was a replica of the one that they’d gone to on their first date. Dom Pérignon was already waiting for them on the table with a ‘enjoy your third anniversary’ card right next to it. Two months too late, thought YN but didn't let her thoughts outside. 

“Are you up for some Italian food?” Harry questioned in a small voice, after they had settled down.

“Yeah, I’ve been craving some lately.” She smiled for a moment. 

And she said that same sentence to him a few times already. Three months ago, when they were going to order some take out. But it didn’t work out - Harry got a phone call and spent the rest of the night in his study. A month ago, when they were supposed to meet up with Florence - but Harry cancelled at the last minute, having said something came up in the studio. Girls decided to just drink a big amount of cheap wine. Two and a half weeks ago, right before leaving for their scheduled date that they’d never gone to. Harry needed to ‘check something at Jeff’s’ and left, going the opposite way to the one leading to his manager’s house. 

Everything started making sense in her mind. 

“Gnocchi sorrento for a lady and -” the waiter placed YN’s dish in front of her, giving her a grin, “ - and the minestrone for you, kind sir.” 

The pair, after their first date, decided to only drink this expensive champagne on exceptional occasions. 

They both thanked Theo - the waiter - politely and started eating. In silence.

Dom Pérignon didn’t go well with their food, neither did it go well with their moods. 

First date - when they both discovered it (Harry that day had asked the waiter when YN had gone to the bathroom “if I was an absolute champagne gourmet and wanted to drink something that goes well with shellfish, what would I choose?” “If the price isn’t a problem, then Dom Pérignon is one of our finest bottles, sir.”). 

YN’s graduation - they laid together on her small couch, champagne with a cheese platter on the coffee table. 

“I can’t believe I’m out of school,” YN sighed, taking a bite of a gorgonzola and then sipping champagne. “Also, can’t believe you bought it.” She lifted the flute. 

“You’re smart, of course you were going to graduate. With honours as well.” He kissed the side of her head. “And we agreed to drink it on really important occasions.”

“This is important to you?” 

She wasn’t making fun of him. She was surprised that something so small as a university graduation would be important to someone like Harry. A person that maybe didn’t have a higher education but was indeed clever and doing quite good for himself - a global idol for a lot of people of all ages. 

She wasn’t used to being important to people, at least for the first few years of her life when she was still living with her biological parents. After being adopted by the people she loved to call ‘mama and papa’ she started to learn the importance of appreciation. 

“Of course it is, love. Hey, look at me, please?” He delicately placed a hand on her cheek, turning her head towards him. “You’re important to me and whatever you do, whatever you achieve, whatever you seek and dream about - I’m here for you. I’m proud of you. Okay?”

Her lips turned upside down and her eyes glistened. She nodded her head rapidly, “okay, okay,” her voice small, trying to comprehend it all. 

“I love you, YNN.” 

“I love you, Harry.”

Then their first anniversary that they spent with Anne and Gemma - bottles of Dom Pérignon were laying on the outside table on Anne’s patio. It was a last minute call to go to Holmes Chapel. Anne wanted Harry to spend more time home, not knowing what that day meant to her son and his girlfriend. He tried to refuse his mother’s invitation but YN encouraged him to go. She loved Anne and Gemma. 

Their second anniversary was spent in Italy, right after Harry’s last tour date and YN’s Little Women shooting ended. Flutes of Dom Pérignon accompanied them in bed after an eventful night and day and another night and another day. They were finally together after months of separation. 

The Fine Line release party connected with Taylor’s 30th birthday was one crazy night full of people and alcohol. And only one bottle of Dom Pérignon that YN and Harry shared during a whole party, celebrating Harry's success.

YN’s Oscar win was the last time they spent an occasion with Dom Pérignon. 1959 bottle of their favourite champagne was enjoyed during the last night when she felt they were truly happy within their relationship.

And now she sipped it slowly, forgetting how much she once loved it. 

“How did you like the food?”

“It was amazing. Thank you, Theo,” YN said to a waiter, smiling kindly. 

“Pleasure is mine. Can I recommend some desserts for you both?” 

“Ye -”

“Thank you, Trevor. I’d like a tab,” Harry interrupted YN, pushing the plate towards the middle of the table. The dinner got cold with the chatter getting old. 

“Of course, sir.” Theo faked a smile and moved to the bar with one finished and one barely touched plates. 

“His name was Theo.” 

“Sorry?”

“His name was Theo, Harry. Not Trevor.” YN said rather firmly, in a low voice not to draw any more attention towards their table that it already had. 

“Mhmm, yeah, sorry.”

“I’m not the one you should be sorry to. He was so polite and you couldn’t even remember his name. It was rude.”

“Okay!” he snapped, doing exactly the opposite of what YN wanted to do - men and women around them stopped talking and looked directly at YN and him. “‘M sorry,” he directed it more towards other people, rather than YN.

Before YN had a chance to say something or scold him, Theo came back with a receipt, “here you go, sir. Do you want to pay by cash or card?” 

“Card.”

“And please split the bill evenly for two. Thank you, Theo,” YN said, not even looking at Harry, hoping he knew not to try and argue with her. 

“Of course. Here you go.”

All hope for a change, volatilising. 

They paid the bill (50/50), and YN thanked Theo once more for his amazing client service, tipping him a substantial amount. Harry, still upset, just said ‘Good Night, mate’.

Without waiting for him to catch up with her, YN moved towards his car, ready to go home. 

“I want to take you to one more place before going home, okay?” Harry expressed after walking up to her, a hopeful smile on his beautiful face. 

“I’m not really in a mood to go anywhere else, Harry. I want to go to sleep.” 

Even though she had nothing to be tired from, she had no energy left in her body. The lack of conversation she craved, and affection she needed made her feel so empty. 

“Please? One more place?”

She breathed out loudly, “okay” she agreed, not being able to refuse his compelling voice. 

“Okay. It’s not so far away so we can walk there. Yeah?” He asked, giving her a hand to hold. 

She didn't remember when was the last time they held hands, intertwined fingers, bringing warmth. It had been so long since that loving touch, YN was ready to tear up right then. 

With their hands still being tightly connected, Harry guided YN up the street towards a more secluded area. There were more trees and bushes that immediately provided better air. The pavements were clearer and roads empty. They were alone. Unfortunately. 

“It’s right here,” Harry said, pointing at the big building, reminiscent of an old venue. “Can you please close your eyes?”

“Are you going to kill me or have me kidnapped?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. It’s - it’s just a surprise and I want you to see it from the best place. Can you trust me?”

No. “Yes, of course,” she answered, silencing her thoughts. 

After leading her through two pairs of stairs - one going up and then down -, a few corridors and finally going through uneven ground outside, they stopped walking.

Harry’s hands were sweaty, his breath was shaking. The petite box in his trousers pocket weighed much more than the last time he held it, when his mother passed it to him. Half-baked ideas were Harry’s thing and they most likely turned out more than fine. But this one, he felt, was going to collapse with a big thud. What made him turn to this concept first? Why didn’t he tell the truth as to what he was going to do, to his mother? She knew him the best - was on the same podium spot as YN and Gemma, and she would know how to help him. How to save them. 

“Okay, we’re here, babe. But don’t open your eyes yet.”

Harry dropped her hand, moving towards the speakers. The acoustic version of You’ll Be In my Heart started silently playing. It was YN’s favourite Disney song, from her favourite movie - Tarzan. 

And it didn’t bring her joy now. It caused even more anxiety. All things coming up like dominoes, ready to be shattered. 

“Can I ask you to dance with me, my lady?”

She opened her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn’t done that. The lights were hanging from the willow branches, lilies were scattered around them and near the speaker was a bouquet of her least favourite flowers - tulips. She now knew what was coming and she was terrified. 

"My arms will hold you keep you safe and warm

This bond between us can’t be broken

I will be here don’t you cry"

But YN cried, heavy tears coming down her cheeks. And Harry held her tight, swaying them slightly from right to left. 

“Shhh, I love this song, Harry. Shhh, stop talking, please!” she scolded her boyfriend, pointing at the TV. 

“Okay, okay, Jesus. I’m quiet.” He laughed, finally settling down next to her, throwing his arm behind her shoulders, cuddling her. “Is it your favourite?” he whispered. 

“Yes. I think it’s one of the most beautiful songs from Disney,” she responded in the same whisper, eyes still glued to the screen. 

YN had one of the biggest smiles Harry had ever seen on her face. Her eyes were beaming with happiness and warmth. He couldn’t have helped but smile as well - her bliss was his. Whenever she was happy, he was too. Whenever she cried, he did too. What was hers was his and vice versa. 

“Do you think it’s a good first dance song?” he asked. 

“Maybe.” She thought for a moment and added, “but something more piano-like would be better. This one’s good for proposals. Near a tree with hundreds of lights.”

“You think so?” His mind was already plotting a plan. 

“I know so.” 

When the song hit the last chorus YN dropped his hand while dancing, giving him an oblivious sign to drop on one knee. 

“Harry, please,” she pleaded, tears still going down her face. 

“Let me speak.”

“No, please. Get up, Harry. Stop it,” she was repeating it all over again, praying it all was going to be a nightmare. She was going to wake up next to him like the last five months hadn’t happened. 

He ignored her, “YN, you’ve been in my life for more than three years. You’ve changed it for the batter. Your presence, your appreciation and your involvement in everything you and I did was - was exceptional. The warmth you bring to every room and life you’re in helps people. Words you say and don’t say have power. You make me happy. As well as my family, mum and Gemma love you like a daughter and sister. Your work, which you put so much effort into, brings you so much joy it rebounds on me. You’re the one that I want. You’re the one that I want to spend the rest of my life with,” he paused for a moment, kneeling on two knees. 

He was silently begging her to say yes. 

“YN -”

“Do you still love me?”

Her voice was shaky because of all the crying. He didn’t look at her once today. From the moment he picked her up, through the dinner they had at the restaurant and till the moment she stopped his proposals, he didn’t spare her a glance. It was going to be a nightmare. Everything that she was afraid of from the moment she’d read those two messages, happened and she loathed it. 

He looked at her.

And stayed silent.

You had a speech, you’re speechless, YN thought. 

She learned that day how loud the silence could be. How definitive and thundering it could feel. Terminating.

“Do you?” she choked out.

There was no sound of the voice. Love slipped beyond his reaches. 

Now, it hurt even more than two weeks ago. Not hearing him saying I love you. Man that promised her a moon, made her happy through so many years. Man that she trusted not to ever hurt her, not to ever betray her. He did everything upside down. After so many months together, moments joined and hours longed for - it was done. 

“YN, please.”

“Let me go, Harry.” 

“Please.”

“No. There - there’s nothing to ask. Nothing to do. It’s over, Harry. You know it.”

“Give me a reason,” he cried. 

“I can’t give you a reason, sometimes you just don’t know the answer ‘til someone’s on their knees and asks you,” she whispered, her hand stopped mid-movement. She wanted to caress his head. She wanted to hug him, kiss him for the last time. “You couldn’t keep it in, could you?” She laughed through her silent cries. 

Harry looked at her hand, still longing in the air, near his head. He wanted her to touch him. He wanted to hug her, kiss her and never let go. He wanted her, now more than ever before. 

If my wishes came true, it would have been you, YN wondered, not being able to stop the waterfall of thoughts. 

“I - I’ll be out of the house in an hour or so. I’ll leave the keys near the flower pot,” she said after a moment of only their crying.

“No, please. YN, baby, please -”

After looking at Olivia's favourite flowers sitting in a bouquet next to the speaker for the last time, YN turned around and started walking away. Harry’s shouts and pleads became smaller and smaller, until she was out of the property where it stopped. 

She halted. 

It was over.

They were over. 

But maybe it was her champagne problems, her thoughts, her doings and her love that caused it all. Caused him to stop loving her, keeping her as a familiarity among the unknown. 

Now, it finally touched her. There was no more suspense, no more uncertainty or insecurity. She knew for sure. He didn’t love her anymore.

And she still did, more than anything. 

It was cold outside. The wind ruffled her hair and made her shiver. She started walking, wanting to be closer and closer to the place she just this morning had called home. 

Maybe it was all her fault. She left him out there standing, crestfallen on the landing. His heart was glass, she dropped it. She pressed him and challenged him, unknowingly causing him to fall out of love. Perhaps it was all her.

“You’ll find the real thing instead. She’ll patch up your tapestry that I shredded,” she said into the void. “She’ll hold your hand while dancing, never leave you standing. And after all, you won’t remember all my champagne problems.”

[welldonebeca]

Conveniência (1)

Summary: On a twist of events and to the ton's most delightful surprise, Miss Penelope Featherington marries Lord Debling.

Warnings: Canon divergence, romantic slow burn, tension, fluff. Eventual smut. Portia Featherington being herself.

Penelope wondered how much of what she was feeling now was like other brides felt on the day of their weddings.

Mama was elated, smiling for the whole family, nearly jumping up and down from all her excitement. Prudence and Philippa were with child, and now Penelope was a moment away from becoming Lady Debling. She had succeeded in her wishes.

Lord Debling – Alfred – had proposed in a beautiful way. When they went for a garden stroll with her mother, her sisters and their husbands, he had led her to a long wall of flowers. There, he knelt and gazed into her eyes with such intensity that Penelope almost forgot the practical foundations of their union. He needed a wife; she needed a husband. They enjoyed each other's company and understood their marriage would be practical, not romantic.

So she said yes.

Her room was empty now, everything – every little thing she owed, including her Whistledown things – was off to her new home.

All that remained was what she was wearing now.

“Penelope,” Mama spoke, opening her door. “Before we go, a word?”

Rae stepped back and away from her, just done with her hair.

“In private,” mama added.

Rae was joining her new household – Penelope trusted her too much and enjoyed her too much to let Mama keep her.

She stood up as her maid left, and remained stiff as Mama came to her and took her hand.

Was anything wrong?

“Look at you,” she exhaled. “Lady Debling in just a few moments.”

Penelope nodded slowly.

Lady Debling. Yes.

“I wanted to talk to you about what is to happen tonight.”

She stiffened up.

Oh.

When Marina was with them, they’d talked about some of what happened to land her with a child in her belly, but nothing specific – just cake and love.

"Do you remember," Mama spoke slowly, "when we visited a farm?"

Penelope frowned. A farm?

"I’ve never been to a farm, Mama," she corrected her.

Mama paused, shaking her head.

"Oh, that was Prudence," she realised.

She kept staring at her mother. Well?

"A man… has an appendage," Mama began, not meeting her eyes. "And in order to… fertilise your womb, he must… deposit his… seed… in it. Many times, as many as he possibly can.”

Penelope blinked, shocked.

Fertilise? Seed?

Were they talking about marriage or gardening?!

“And it will probably begin uncomfortably for you,” she continued. “If your husband is kind and attentive, and I’m certain he will be, you will feel no more than… a pinch.”

“A pinch,” she parroted.

“Inside,” Mama added.

“Inside?!”

Inside what?!

But Mama rolled her eyes.

“Stop that,” she interrupted her. “He’ll know what to do, just make sure he doesn’t keep his breeches on.”

Penelope held back the instinct to parrot it—his breeches? He was going to take off his breeches? Why on earth would he need to take off his breeches?

Well, if a child came from love, then she was at a disadvantage. Penelope didn’t love Lord Debling – she loved Colin.

Even if she tried to hide it, even if it hurt her, even if it was impossible and something she was running away from and was going to end - because she was not going to feed that stupid feeling any longer - she loved Colin.

“Marina said babies were made with love,” she mumbled.

She had no one else to ask, no one else would tell her!

It’d have to be Mama.

The look her mother gave her was pitiful.

“Miss Thompson was very naive,” Mama told her. “Babies are made and raised with effort. I didn’t start loving your father, but he gave me the greatest gifts I could have ever been gifted, in you three.”

She moved to Penelope slowly, and took her hand again.

“You will love so many things,” she affirmed. “Your days will be filled with delight. Sometimes your husband will be a part of them, and other times, he won’t. But you’ll only find out once you’re married to him. Which is why we should go now, or they’ll think we’re stalling.”

She just nodded, walking out with her.

They entered the carriage very quietly, just the two of them now. It looked very nice, adorned with white ribbons and flowers, very bridal-like. The ride to the church seemed to both drag on and fly by in a blur and before she even knew it, they were arriving at the church.

She was walking in on her own, without Mama. Her mother was a bit too happy to walk down before her, in her new dress and her flowers, her maid of honour.

It wasn’t like she could ask Eloise to be so.

From the room she was placed in, Penelope could see some of the guests. Mrs Bridgerton had arrived with Benedict, Daphne, Francesca, Gregory, and Hyacinth, but Colin was nowhere in sight - nor did Eloise.

It was probably for the best that he wasn’t there. His absence would make it hurt a little less. 

Penelope blinked her tears away as Mama stepped off, the room quieting down.

She adjusted her veil with Rae’s help as the doors came to a close again, and positioned herself by it.

They waited for her to confirm she was ready to come in, and for a moment, she contemplated just… not going. Not stepping in, not…

Not marrying Alfred.

She longed for the moment Colin would run in and tell her not to do it, to ask her to marry him instead.

But every second passed, every heartbeat of her own she heard, was proof he wasn’t going to do it – he hadn’t done it when he had the time, why would he do it now?

“Miss?” someone called.

Penelope opened her eyes to see the guards at the door looking at her expectantly.

Oh.

She had to move.

“I was saying a prayer,” she lied.

Penelope took in one last breath. No turning back now.

She nodded to them.

The church was filled with the soft murmur of guests when they all stood and turned to look at her as she made her entrance. The aisle stretched on forever, each step of hers adding another four to go as her future husband slowly turned in her direction to look at her face. The ton and her family were watching her, all looking surprised to be witnessing such a moment of hers.

And there, at the end of the aisle, stood Alfred. He looked handsome in his formal attire, peaceful like no one else, and he even smiled when he saw her face – an expression she returned as best as she could, squeezing his hand when he took hers.

The ceremony itself was a blur. They exchanged vows, slipped rings onto each other’s fingers, and made promises… her voice only trembled a little bit when she said her vows, and he seemed happy to hear them.

She supposed it was a mix of reasons – some that in theory made her happy too. He had someone he could trust now, and the promise of things he could only achieve with marriage. His estate was cared for, and if their three-month honeymoon went how honeymoons were meant to go, then he would have a child to carry his name and she would have something to do in his absence.

Probably more as well. She imagined he would want to have a second once he came back from his excursion.

She managed a smile when it was over, before they turned to face their family and friends, resting her hand on his arm and tightening it for safety.

That was it, it was done. They were married.

You can also read this on Archive of Our Own.

[eunoia-writes]

Bad Timing • Conrad Fisher

Warnings: Teen pregnancy

Summery: y/n had spent the last two weeks avoiding Conrad like the plague and when he finds out why he’s more excited than others

It has become routine for y/n to tag along on the fishers summer vacation however the last three years has been a little different. Two years ago now Y/n and Conrad had made things official after pining over each other for years not that anyone would know they kept it between them at first. They didn’t have a reason for why it just felt like the right thing to do. But this year. This year was much more complicated.

Almost 3 months ago now y/n found out that hers and Conrad’s drunken rondavo lead to something much more. It wasn’t exactly a regret but more so a surprise. She still hadn’t told Conrad. She was terrified of what might happen if she did. So y/n did what she does best in conflict she avoided him as much as she could from staying on the other side of the house telling Conrad his room was too hot to spending most of her days working so she was out of the house.

“Mom… you and y/n talk right?” Conrad asked taking a seat next to his mom on the couch. Susana gave him a soft smile. She was the only other person who knew. She’d found y/n throwing up one morning and through sobs y/n admitted she was pregnant. Susana wanted more than anything to tell Conrad what was going on but she knew that was up to y/n and she needed time to come to terms with it herself.

“Yeah we talk. Why? What’s wrong, Connie?” Susana asked as Conrad leant his head on her shoulder needing nothing more than comfort from his mother

“She doesn’t talk to me anymore, she sleeps in the guest room and spend all day at work and when she gets back she says she’s exhausted and goes straight to bed. I just miss her and this feels like the beginning of the end and I don’t want it to be the end mom, I really don’t.” Conrad said Susan had never heard such sadness in his voice before it took everything in here not to blurt it out right then and there.

But she didn’t.

“Oh Connie, I’m sure it’s not the end you need to just talk to her and honey just go into the conversation with an open mind.” Susana said and almost on cue y/n walked through the door calling out for Conrad who jumped off the couch and made his way into the kitchen where y/n was

“Y/n.” He said walking into the kitchen y/n was rinsing her water bottle out when corand came behind her wrapping his arms around her waist “missed you today.” He mumbled kissing her neck softly

“I Missed you too.” She said turning to face him “and I would love to stay and chat but I’ve been on my feet all day so I’m gonna head to bed.” She told him moving out of his hold and heading to go upstairs

“Y/n, we need to talk.” Conrad said following behind her she shook her head already having to stop her tears from falling

“Not tonight.” She said but he grabbed her arm spinning her around to face him once they reached the door of the guest room

“Yes tonight… I can’t… I can’t do this anymore I can’t pretend like we’re okay anymore.” Conrad said y/n was looking at the ground doing anything to try and compose herself But that didn’t work as tears began rolling down her cheeks

“I’m sorry.” She whispered finally looking up at him. Her eyes were glossy and her face was puffy from the tears “I’m so sorry Connie.” She said he tried to search her eyes for an answer but he couldn’t figure out what was going on

“Sorry for what?” He asked pushing the hair out of her face and behind her ears

“Sorry for pushing you away when I needed you the most.” She told him which only confused him more y/n sighed softly before taking a deep breath “I’m pregnant Connie.” His face dropped as soon as she said those three words “And I didn’t want to tell you because I was scared that I’d lose you so I thought pushing you away would make it easier.”

“Hey y/n.” Conrad whispered she looked up at him nodding “we’re having a baby.” Conrad has the biggest smile on his face

“You’re not mad?” She asked as he pulled her into his arms

“Of course I’m not mad!” Conrad could of swore he’d never been happier than that moment “I hope it’s a girl.” He said

That Night Conrad made y/n cut down her hours working and told her she needed to rest while talking about everything possible like baby names, where they should live if they wanted to know the gender or keep it a secret. The boy was so excited.

“Why don’t you and Connie Raise the baby here?” Susana said handing y/n a cup of water it was the third week of summer in cousins and Susana had been hinting the whole time of letting Connie and y/n have the beach house as Cousins is the perfect place to raise a family she thought

“We’ve thought about it, but we’ve not made any plans on what we’re doing yet.” Y/n said just as the group came rushing through the doors Laurel had taken the group on a shopping trip after Belly and Steven insisted they needed new outfits for the summer. Conrad walked straight over to y/n with one small bag in hand. Susana and Laurel were the only people that knew about y/n’s pregnancy after they told Laurel last night when she offered y/n a glass of wine as was surprised when she turned it down much to laurels surprise.

“Belly I want to see all the outfits.” Susana said before dragging the girl upstairs with Laurel following. Jeremiah and Steven were to busy in there own world to even notice Conrad’s hand on y/n’s stomach.

“How big is she now?” Conrad asked. He was convinced they were having a girl not that he’d care of it wasn’t. The baby was already perfect to him. Y/n smiled softly as she leant into him

“You see that peach? Bubs about the same size as that right now.” She could have sworn she saw a twinkle in his eyes in that very moment but little did she know that would all come tumbling down in a matter of minutes.

“I got something.” Conrad said before reaching into the bag and pulling out a tiny cousins onesie that matched the exact one he had on.

“What the fuck!” Y/n’s head turned to see Belly looking at the onesie In Conrad’s hands. Y/n felt her heart drop into her stomach she knew telling belly was going to be the hardest of everyone so she was not prepared for this at all.

“Belly.” Y/n said softly standing up from her seat everyone was no gathered in the kitchen after hearing raised voices

“Wow y/n, I confided in you about my feeling and then you go and get with the boy I liked and I learned to except that but now you’ve gone and got yourself knocked up… wow y/n really classy.” She knew belly didn’t mean it and that she was just upset but it still stung

“That’s not fair Belly.” Y/n said trying to hold her tears in Conrad wanted to yell at Belly but he knew he’d only make things worse. Belly shook her head before turning around and walking off before anything else could be said.

“I should go talk to her.” Y/n said but Conrad nodded his head wiping the tears that now fell from her face. Y/n left the kitchen everyone was in an awkward silence not knowing what to say to either conrad or y/n.

“Belly?” Y/n whispered knocking on her bedroom door she heard a soft come in through sniffles. Y/n slipped into belly’s room making sure to close the door behind her. Belly had her back to the door laying on the farthest side of her bed away from the door.

“Hey.” Y/n said sitting down next to her belly turned over with tears in her eyes. She didn’t have to say anything for y/n to know she was sorry. She just knew Belly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you.” Y/n said softly belly shook her head as more tears spilled from her eyes

“Why are you being nice to me?” Belly asked as y/n patted her lap letting belly rest her head on her lap while she stroked her hair

“Because it’s us Belly, we don’t fight.” Y/n said although what belly had said hurt her she knew her words weren’t true and belly was just trying to hurt her because she didn’t know what else to do with her emotions.

“I don’t deserve you being nice, I was awful to you.” Belly said y/n let out a soft sigh trying to figure out what next to say

“Belly, I know that when me and Con got together you were upset I spent days crying to him because I thought we were doing the wrong thing, I would never have hurt you intentionally.” Y/n said and belly knew that. She knew it better than anyone else belly nodded slightly wiping her tears away

“and I know that you didn’t mean all those things you said, I know just how awful it is to see your first love with someone else Trust me belly you’re not the only one who struggled to get over there first love. I did and it wasn’t until I met Con that I knew i wouldn’t feel like this forever.”

“Im just scared I’ll never feel the same way about anyone, I love you and Conrad together you make him happy and that makes me happy.” Belly let out a sniffle before finally sitting up

“You will Belly, you will find someone who worships the ground you walk on. You will find someone who’s sun rises and sets just for you, because you Belly are Beautiful, you’re kind hearted, a little stubborn and passionate. Who wouldn’t love that.” Y/n said belly nodded smiling for the first time

“Are you happy… that you’re pregnant I mean?” Belly asked y/n’s hand came to her stomach she looked down for a second

“I’m terrified Belly but yeah I’m happy.”

“If it’s a girl can we call her Nellie?”

“I think we could make that work”

[undercoverpena]

xi. goodbyes can be sweet

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. idiots who confess they love one another. no use of y/n. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. word count: 5.2k.

AN: welcome to the long awaited last chapter. i was going to do an epilogue, but instead, i've included the one-shots that i wrote for this and posted unbeknown to you all because i needed the fluff. .

dedications: thank you to @yeyinde for listening to me go back and forth about this, and to every single person who has missed this.

“Be safe.”

“You worried about me?”

Your fingers trace his cheek, knees digging into his mattress—the sea of your things behind, both the amount you grabbed the night he brought you here from his office, and the following nights since when he’d told everyone you were sick.

In a sense, it wasn’t a lie. Not something far from the truth.

“I’m worried that others will be looking for Guillermo Pallomari, yes.”

His lips find yours—chapped, yet soft. All telling, a thousand promises he knows he shouldn’t speak, but he kisses to your mouth all the same.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I’m not done with you either.”

Lips curling into a smile, you brush your thumb over his cheek. “You’ll need Salcedo.”

Javi thinks he’s endured bad days—has practically collected them at this point.

Yet, he still somehow seems to find more.

He’s noticed how he manages to bring more of them to his cabinet, them lining all up, sitting on a shelf, twinkling at him like trophies. Instead of highlighting his accomplishments, they remind him of his failing. They don’t bring him joy. Instead, they wound him, slice into him—thinning him out and wearing him down.

Each day clutters itself to the next until he finds himself almost ready to collapse under the sheer weight of them.

The only reason he manages to keep standing is you.

Each day of hardship is made considerably better by the fact when he can, he can fall asleep beside you and wake to another day with you pressed against him. Whether in the morning (when the sun tries to peek over the buildings) or in the night, when the shadows begin whispering and the thoughts of what he could do, should do, all don’t stop.

It hadn’t been intentional—you moving into his. Yet, you have. Him loading the car up that night, you a shell of a person after the conversation with Fiestl. How you’d looked haunted, broken down, cracked open until all that made you you was scooped out.

You don’t have to do this.

That’s what you’d said, a duffel in his hand, your eyes shimmering, ready to paint your face in another wave of pain.

I’ll be okay on my own—I’ve done it before.

When he thinks back to it, he’s not sure what irked him more. The fact that you’d told him that or the look on your face when he’d entered that room and had you pressed against him, shaking, crying, sad.

He’s glad he was able to convince you in Spanish, and then in English, that you had him. That he wasn’t leaving without you, almost sliding his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeves to demonstrate as such.

Now, you’re in his place—healing, helping.

It’s a reason why he’s staring at your desk—a new daily occurrence he’s added to his to-do list since you’ve been on leave.

A moment, more minutes than he can afford to burn, spent staring at it—how empty it is, how it’s been collecting dust over the last week or so.

Thank Stoddard for me. For approving my leave. I think you should be thanking me, cariño. I’m the one who gave him the order. I think I’ve been thanking you a lot.

He misses you being here. The way you help, aid—give your opinion. He could call. You’re in his apartment after all—the one kindly offered to him to be a puppet, to be a trophy, to be a body, but not a voice.

Snorting, Javi can’t help but think of your voice that first day he met you: not a glass prison. You hadn’t been wrong then, and you weren’t now—the papers in his hands were proof of it.

Rolling his jaw, he feels his hand tighten around the file—the one creasing, almost scrunching—when his sight is blocked. Fiestl, all of a sudden, there, loitering, hanging in the doorway—his eyes barely able to meet his outside of things Javi requires him to do.

“It’s none of my business, Fiestl.”

It leaves his tongue with purpose. Intent. Trying to draw a line where he can because he’s not sure he can hold himself back if he doesn’t. It had taken a day before you unloaded, let out the combination of rage, sadness and grief—your bones growing weary, tiredness suffocating you until you slept the day away, and he found you in the same place he’d left you when he’d gone to Cali.

It’s a sight he wouldn’t so easily forget. It’s why he supposes he’s looking through his brows at him, tilting his head to the side to drive it further home.

Javi can see Fiestl is battling—either with whatever is rolling around his head or his better judgment.

“I know, sir.”

Chewing his cheek, Javi pushes out a breath from his nose, closing his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A list as long as his arm to enact, put into place—such as putting the word sir on a banned list, unless it comes from your lips.

“Just wanted to ask… see, I guess, if she’s…she’s okay?”

No, he wants to bark.

Almost does. Every part of him alight, fury mounting, spreading like lava that coats and ruins. The file in his hand—the drafted indictment—is almost cast aside because even if it’s not his battle, even if you’ve asked him not to get involved, he wants to.

Needs to.

That thrum, that pounding in his chest—the feel of your tears soaking his skin through his shirt—that first night when you shook and shook in his arms, in his bed, because you’d been hurt so fucking bad.

It makes him want to move around the desk and prod three fingers into his chest to drive the point home. He doesn’t. The title on his door is one of the reasons, the other being the shell of a person he remembers he’d had to leave in his sheets days ago—the one slowly becoming more and more you like as hours away from here tick on.

“No. No, Fiestl, she’s not okay.”

When he opens his eyes, he almost recognises it. The struggle, the battle—how it diminishes and skates inside the younger agent. He remembers it himself when the line got blurred when the need to win had reached a new pinnacle. Things shattering, never able to be repaired.

Javi straightens, standing up, placing the file down.

“I should have told her.”

Sighing again, but this time louder—Javi focuses all his attention on keeping his face unreadable, stern. Not that it matters, he’s not sure Fiestl is even aware, his hand on his hip, shaking his head—pity and guilt stitched into everything he wears now.

It's the only reason Javi softens, choosing to slide a hand over his chin, swallowing his annoyance, and putting it aside. “She’ll forgive you. I’m sure.”

Snorting, Fiestl looks up. “Nah, she won’t. But I don’t blame her. I… I wanted to get them. Make it right. I… I sent her there and I… it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Opening his mouth, he almost answers.

He almost spits out that he understands, and gets it—the edge a person can reach when doing the right thing. He swallows it—leaves the story buried where it’s supposed to be. Not needing gossip, more whispers, more things being muttered when he enters a room.

“You wanted to do good, Fiestl. You didn’t know when he approached you. Did you? I mean, fuck, when you asked for her to help, yeah, that’s an asshole thing, but she’s...”

Fiestl stares, either not knowing, or not wanting to know—both things he remembers seeing himself in the mirror when he’d been sent back home. The way he felt about himself and how it bled out, tainted everything else, tinged who greeted him back in the reflection.

How it attached itself to his clothing while he wrestled with the way people talked about him—and to him—seeing it now, all alive again, but this time etched, living and breathing in a solid person in front of him.

“She’s smart, brilliant—more than the two of us, right?” Javi continues, hearing a snort, low and underneath the shifting guilt. “And… she knows you’re a good agent. Told it me herself.”

Biting his cheek, Javi finds Fiestl doesn’t take his eyes off him—as though waiting for the words to be taken back that leave his mouth.

“Just… just fuckin’ learn from it,” he adds. “One day, she’ll forgive you. And in the meantime, maybe you can begin working on forgiving yourself.”

Something Javi realises you’ve said to him once before.

Alcohol burns differently when he coats his throat in the third mouthful in the last few seconds without reprieve.

Anger keeps mixing, churning, with the bile in his chest, all of it rising and falling—ebbing and flowing, bubbling and thickening. He’s alternated between clenching his fist and digging his thumb into the side of his skull for the better part of ten minutes—almost to the point he’s sure there’s a crevice there now, a hole, something else he’ll have to carry around with him.

Swallowing, he coats his throat in another mouthful—because it’s never enough.

Never. Ever. Enough.

He’d almost shattered the glass in his office door when he’d stormed back in. He had been close to breaking the buttons on his phone when he dialled his apartment number, only not crunching the receiver when you answered—all sweet, kind and full of snark when he said it was him.

Javi didn’t tell you, but a part of him figured you’d know deep down.

Your suspicions mounting anyway, ideas rolling, coming out in broken snippets as the two of you make heads or tails of his day.

It was different to know the two of you were right. As he’d said in the ambassador’s office, a part of him had been clutching to hope—that this time would be different, better, and more able to own the title of hero. Or at least be able to know he’d done good.

You should tell that part to grow the fuck up. You should be happy. You played the system like a goddamn fiddle. You won.

Shaking his head, Javi rolls his eyes. Something akin to grief melding into disappointment as he lets his head roll back, chin lifting to the ceiling, blinking and blinking—a part of him hoping he’d wake up, that this was a dream, a fucking nightmare.

It isn’t. The paper cut still throbbing on his palm is proof of it. His jaw slid side to side, thinking of the last few days—of the things he’s read and learned.

“Hey?”

Snapping his sight to the door, Javi takes a breath when he lands on you.

You all decked out in jeans, a shirt—likely one of his—open, barely buttoned over a t-shirt, looking the most casual he’s ever seen you in his office. Your shoulder leaning, face bare, but in his eyes, you’ve never looked better. You’re less weighted, less worried, your teeth not gnawing at your bottom lip, and stress isn’t scratching its way into your bones, even in his presence.

But in your hands, that’s what makes him smile: a coffee and a piece of fucking fruit.

Light blasting through the darkness, piercing holes in the mist that had begun descending since he found himself back in his office. The cage, the prison—the name and title on the door, which meant fucking nothing.

“Hey…” he replies, placing his glass on the desk, the base of it meeting the desk, sounding loud in the quiet. “You should know, I won, apparently.”

You snort, and he hears it thickly. If he thinks hard enough, he's sure he could even feel it on his skin. His eyes watching you as you move further around the doorway, still leaning, still keeping a distance. “I’m guessing it doesn’t feel like winning, though, does it?”

“No, cariño. It… fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Shaking his head, he runs his hand over his face—palm catching the tip of his nose—before he blinks, finding you still watching him, eyes narrowing, working him out, solving a puzzle.

“I didn’t… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You seemed like you needed the friendly face. And a pick-me-up.”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Who knew putting people behind bars would be so rewarding—and easy.”

Your eyes hit him, sliding yourself further into his office, placing down the cup and fruit on the side table before folding your arms. “I think if it were easy, you wouldn’t have come and taken the job—just an observation, but you seem like a masochist. Or, you seem to love a good challenge, Peña.”

Snorting, Javi looks up—moving around the desk, tugging at the loops of your jeans as he turns you from the glass walls.

“Well, I did like breaking you down.”

“I think it was me who broke you, sir.”

Lips curling into his cheek, he jolts you by your waist. “Such lies, baby,” he whispers, brushing the words over you, ghosting them over your lips.

He could sink into you. Move you to his desk, reenact an earlier night shared months ago—when feelings weren’t spoken off, and the two of you pretended things weren’t heading to where they are now.

But, the day is running through his head. It travels round and round. Distracting him. Pulling him back from falling into you—something he usually finds he can do easily.

Has been able to the last few days.

Even when it means doing so when you’re asleep in his bed, curling you towards him, pulling an arm over him, until you wake—sleep laced on your voice, movements barely solid. Glad you’re back, sir. Glad you came back to me, Javi—

“Javi?”

Swallowing, he blinks. “Why—why are you really here, cariño?”

Chewing your cheek, he feels you let out a deep sigh before staring up at him, all bold and unafraid. “You don’t believe that I’m here to cheer you up?”

“If you were, you’d be wearing less.’

You laugh. And fuck, when you laugh, he swears the world gets a little easier. It heals the chip in his shoulder and tries to smother the lousy day with sunshine and sweetness.

“Alright. Remember this morning when you asked me to think about things? Well, I have.”

“Okay…?”

Taking another breath (more shaky, troubled), you smile. “I’ve thought about how I know you have things you need to do. For you. And, I’ve thought about how I want to be the person you walk away from all of this with—side by side, y’know? That I know we’ve talked on it, but when you hang your tie up—when you’re done… done. I want to be there.

“And, I thought about how, for a while, I have stayed here for all the wrong reasons, a part of me feeling like to do that, I had to sit at that desk and help.”

Rolling your lips, you gently take his hand in yours—it all so smooth, warm, a piece of himself unsure if he deserves it. You’re good, kind—having been hurt by things he knows he’s been around. A butterfly effect, a choice that’s rippled out and somehow hurt you.

But he doesn’t move from it. Instead, the gesture cracks him, feeling something fall within him—doubts, the twisted idea that he’d forever be alone—all crumbling from the edges of him, slipping and falling, the last pieces of it turning to dust, leaving him more raw.

Clutching his fingers tighter, you hold his stare more intensely. “But I don’t think I need to be here, in this building, for that to happen, do I?”

“—Wait—“

“Javi, I quit.”

Dipping his head, his fingers brush against your jaw, staring into your eyes, watching and feeling your lips curl into a smile. “W-what the f—“

“I rang Stoddard this morning. Asked him to put it on your desk—it was something I drafted up ages ago, before you. I just… didn’t get rid of it in case you needed me to leave the building or something.”

Scratching your neck, you smirk. “Knowing your level of organisation, it’ll be under a sea of other shit. But, it’s okay, I’m okay—I promise. You protected me long enough while I decided… you giving me time off, just in case? But, every morning, I wake up thinking I’d feel the itch to come back, but I don’t. I feel done—really done. I can’t… I can’t bring her back, and I can’t get any more justice for her.”

His mouth opens, but closes soon after. Because he’s not sure he has words. Not sure there is even any.

So, he whispers your name—not Luna, not any of the other names the office calls you. Yours. All soft and gentle—clutching your hip as he brings you close. The same name he colours the air with when you’re bare, full of him, fingers digging into his skin as your hips connect with his.

“I told you then,” you continue, “But I’ll tell you now. I’m not done with you.”

Your hand slid around his waist, fingers flattened to his lower spine. A look on your face that’s so endearing, he wants to brush his fingers over it, capture it in all the ways he can.

Then, the scent of you meets his nose—soothing him, coating him, travelling up, moving his shoulders from his ears. It adds to the way your body curves around his, settling his earlier frustration.

“Not done with you either.”

“Good,” you whisper.

His palm cups the back of your head, pulling you close, your smile against his neck, giving into his need to hold you easily. Intimate. Delicate. Romantic.

He’s so lost in it, how good it feels, that it takes him a second to feel you kiss his neck, light, barely a touch—before leaning back. “When you called me… you found out things, more things, right?”

“Cariño…”

“You don’t have to tell me—I don’t work here, after all. But I know you. Know how you tick. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way,” you say, half-smiling, “You know why? Because you’re a good person.” Your eyes holding his, staring—all intense, almost burning. “You have a voice—a nice one, if I do say so myself—so do good.”

He nods in partial disbelief that you somehow always know—that you get him, understand him. He’s also unsure how you always have the right words to say, when you barely know the mountain of shit he’s uncovered. Him realising that whatever he did, whatever he saved, whatever he found out, it was all for—

“And I think you know that there’s more than one way to get your justice, Javi. So, don’t let them tell the story,” you add, lower voice, an almost whisper. “You’ll always be the bad guy if they tell it—and you’ve gotta stop letting yourself be the villain, when you’re the fucking hero.”

He shakes his head. The word wounding him, hurting.

You must tell, must be able to know, because you pull him flush against you. The minimal gap gone, removed, your face stern, almost unreadable.

“You are, Peña. Don’t let your self-deprecation taint the good things you’ve done.”

Letting out a heavy breath, he nods. A sudden desire to bury his face into your neck rising, a need to have you close, feel your pulse against him—anything to distract him from the way your words both make him feel and light something in him.

Because, he knows you’re right. Even if he feels he’s barely scratched the surface of repenting for before, he knows it—how deep it all goes. How there are only so many options, he has left.

Instead, he strokes your cheek: his person—the person who introduced themselves as someone who’d find ways around problems. And, even without being here, without knowing everything, you somehow still do.

“Do you know what you need to do?”

Biting his lip, he nods, gradually pressing his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes slowly—almost in the same way he did this morning when you were curled against him, fingers swirling around and around on his chest.

“Good. When you're done…” your hands sliding up his chest, looping at the back of his neck. “How about after we go make lemonade? Build non-white picket fences and… ride horses?”

His lips curl. “You want to go to Texas?”

“With you? Yeah. I think I’ve been thoroughly convinced.”

His palm slides up your cheek, brushing the tips of his fingers against the hairline against your face. “Fuck, you really must like me.”

“Shut up, Peña.”

“Say you like me…” His other hand gripping your waist, keeping you against him, lost in you—the way your lips curl, desperate to slide up into your trademark smirk.

The one which embedded itself into him the moment you shot him with it.

The one which he liked waking up beside this morning—secretly hoping for many more. A secret, which apparently, has been answered.

Please. He thinks to himself.

Running the tip of his nose against your cheek, he hears the softest rumble of a laugh in your chest. “Say it, cariño.”

“I love you… sir.”

“Not your sir.”

Your fingers wrap around his chin. “Javi, you’ll always be my sir...”

“I love you too.”

Smiling, you wear it with such softness that it spreads to your eyes and lives on your lips. He nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Tasting coffee and sugar.

“I’ll wait at yours?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll see you there later.”

You nod, “I think they’ll cancel my Visa soon.”

Swallowing, he sighs. “Lemme guess, you don’t want me to use my charm to keep you with me for a bit?”

“I’d love you to, but you have more important things to do. Don’t you?”

He does.

Especially if he wants to build fences and spend evenings losing himself in tasting your skin.

Winking, you roll your lips. “Plus, I never cashed in my own favour with Stoddard.”

The air felt different when he had left the building.

Adrenaline thumped through him, pounding, matching how his heart hammered itself against his ribs. His hands grabbed at the things that mattered—leaving the array of files, the notes—only forcing the few post-its you’d written as he forced them into his trouser pocket.

He brushed his hand against them when he saw you leaning against the vehicle, waiting—a pair of his shades on your face as you folded your arms.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the grin that appeared on your face when he told you what he’d done. That he’d met with Carolina Álvarez, that he’d planned to tell his story. He also rather likes playing back a version of how you’d shown him how proud of him you were—eyes all wide as you found a place between his knees, cheeks hollowing, his thumb swiping the spit from your chin.

One day, he’ll admit to you that’s when he felt he had succeeded. He felt like a winner when he got to peel your clothes from your body, when he got to spread you out over the sheets, the blinds open, the city lights flickering as he sunk into you.

Now, he’s surpassed that feeling as he strides towards you. The building behind him was slowly forgotten with every step—the regrets still clinging to him, the fact that he wished he could have done more for those who had to pay to bring down the godfathers.

But for that moment, as he strode towards you, he fixed and focused, only on you.

“I want you gone, Peña. So do the Colombians.” “I understand, sir.” “Any aspirations you have for your career, have been dragged behind the barn and shot.” He smirks, thinking of you—of that smirk you used to shoot him. Copying it, smothering it over his face. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

There had been a thing that powered through him as he strode closer and closer, almost able to smell your perfume before he even reached you. He thought back to the way it wormed itself into him when you’d stood in his office, calling it a glass prison. When it burned itself into his sheets the night he took you back, you left before the sun came up.

Now, it’s woven with him. Your hand in his on the armrest of the aeroplane seat—your knee bobbing, teeth biting the inside of your cheek.

“Didn’t know you didn’t like flying, cariño.”

“Maybe I’m regretting travelling to Texas. You thought of that?”

Tightening his hold on your hand, he grips it—feeling you do the same back. “Not gonna let anything happen.”

“You going to fight turbulence, now?”

Grinning, he leans closer. “For you? I’d try.”

Shaking your head, he watches as your knee slowly stops bouncing—your fingers still tightly holding him, nails just about digging into his skin. He doesn’t care; you could force them in more and make him bleed, but he wouldn’t be bothered.

He’s happy—content.

Something settled in him, something he hadn’t known if it would when he’d got on the plane back out here.

Your head turns to meet his as the pilot speaks, Javi just watching as your lips curl up into a smile.

—and I have some information about our flight—

“You ready, sir?”

—Our flight time today will be—

He thinks of telling you he’s been ready for days, weeks. Javi even tries to think of something witty.

Instead, he places two fingers under your chin, eyes focused on the way the corners of your smile drop, as he responds only by kissing you—openly, freely—doing so until he feels you laugh against him.

And fuck, does he want to feel you laugh against him for as long as he breathes.

You’d expected to like Laredo, but not as much as you do. It’s nice, warm. It's a different heat than Colombia, in a way you couldn’t explain.

The mornings are different, calmer, yet busy. Your days spent at an old dining table, boxes and boxes of receipts, papers and forms—because apparently Javi’s disorganisation is inherited.

When you break for lunch, you hunt for him. Moving past the animals, the fences he’s helped repair, your fingers brushing through the grass, tickling your palms as you head towards him.

Today, his back turned, the shirt he’d left wearing earlier now coated in sweat patches and earth. If not for the environment around you, you could easily place him back in Colombia. A thought the two of you must both have, but never talk about.

And that’s the problem.

One the two of you share. Some unspoken bond, rippling between the two of you—shaking, thrumming. It is there being plucked by lack of sleep and sorrow.

You hadn’t been sure at first if he felt the same, until you began finding him watching the river the same way you did. Then you wondered if he, too, spends the minutes before dropping off to sleep thinking about how you both could have done it all differently rather than looking back in gratitude that you both made it out.

You’re glad you did. You’re glad both of you did.

Being here helps. It healing. Repairing.

Javi’s father being the exact person you expected him to be: kind, loving and protective. All qualities that run through the man you love.

As you near him, a smile graces your cheeks on command—it’s always easy to smile around him—has always been, but it’s been easier since being here.

“Look at you, feeling all unemployed and lost with yourself.”

Sliding your arms around him, you catch the last embers of a snort and a smirk as he looks at you. His body is still turned, pointed in the direction it usually is when the boats go by. A thing you know, spot and see too.

“I’ve got a job, cariño.”

Humming, you sigh. “I wouldn’t blame you, y’know? I get—”

“No. I’m not—I’m not going back.”

You bite the inside of your mouth, digging it down until you begin to taste copper. Because there’s honesty rising in you, it there, itching, scraping—

Desperate to escape.

Because you love him, love the life the two of you could have. Fear is doing its best to keep you apart, sleep deprivation adding another bow to its arsenal.

“I see them too,” you mutter, finding his face shifts, his brow arching. “What, you think you’re the only one with eyes, Peña?

“At first, I’d begun writing when they’d go past. See if I could spot a pattern—old habits, right? It helped before when I had nowhere to run.”

He nods, so much understanding hanging behind the yellow tint of his shades that it hurts. Almost punches the breath from your lungs.

“But, the more I looked for one, the more I could feel all this slipping. Realising I didn’t want that, I had no reason to run or fix or save. I didn’t—don’t—want to lose the light—that fire you sparked in me in your office—when you basically told me you wanted me here.”

His fingers slide against your arms, palms brushing until fingers clasp at yours.

“I think we have to talk about it if we want it to work here,” you say more softly. “We both…. Gotta stop keeping the other out for the sake of saving face. Cause, I’m struggling too, Javi. I’m not…. I feel bad, guilty. Like I should be doing more than baking and taxes and…”

“Being happy?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Just feel…. Fuck.”

“That we didn’t win?”

Nodding, he chews his cheeks. “But, we didn’t lose either. Did we?”

“No,” you say, sliding your hand in his. “We didn’t. This is why we have to try and talk about it—so we don’t lose what we won.”

He nods again, tongue tracing over the front of his teeth. “You’re one hell of a winning, baby.”

More words swing, spreading out, all unspoken, but they’re there in the air. In his eyes. In yours.

“And you make me happy too.”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes before he pulls you flush against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, against your cheek, against your lips, until your bodies are flush, and his eyes stare into your soul.

“I’ve rang them—about the boats.”

I know, you think to yourself—because you’ve rang to tell them too.

His chin rests on your head, arms tightening around you. “I love that you’re here. That you chose this.”

“I know, sir. I know.”

“Less of the sir.”

But this time, compared to the others, you think he means it a little bit less. Especially with the way you’re sure you can feel him grinning.

Post Nowhere To Run One-Shots:

I wrote these during the series and I was meant to wait to post, but the darkness was dark and I needed the light. So, enjoy these as they were intended.

▸ coming home

▸ dancing in the kitchen 

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part Three: Playing Pretend

You forgot that you still had Millie’s insta notifications turned on as your phone lit up with the first one in days. “If that’s another fucking photo with Levi I’m gonna go off” your voice sounding harsh and bitter again. You were on the sofa with Rachel watching your favourite film and as the statement left your lips, Rach picked up her phone to look too. Your eyes met with a multi photo post, each one of you and Millie.

I have something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a while and didn’t know how to do it. I’m sorry to everyone I’ve lied to, including @(y/n). The truth is, I’m not in a relationship with Levi and never have been. For 6 years (y/n) has been my teammate, my roommate, my best friend and the reason I laugh everyday - that’s not a lie. But what I failed to tell everyone is that she’s also my girlfriend, at least I hope she still is. I’m bisexual and I’m in love with this incredibly strong, talented and gorgeous woman and have been since 2017. We’ve celebrated anniversaries quietly and loved each other in secret because I convinced her it was better that way. I now see that that was wrong and I apologise to everyone I have affected but mostly I apologise to the love of my life. I should never have pulled you back into the closet with me; you’re the smartest, most honest and kind human being I know and I should never have dulled your sparkle. I love you always 💙

After reading to the end you looked up at Rach with tears in your eyes, mouthing the words “thank you” to her as she crawled over to take you into her arms. The tears kept coming as you allowed relief to replace anger and your body finally caught up with the immense amount of stress this situation had caused.

You don’t know how long you laid there but with the release of negative energy and Rachel’s fingers running through your hair you must have fallen asleep, only awoken a couple hours later by the door bell. “You might wanna get that” Rachel whispered as you looked up at her. Shuffling to the front door and turning the knob you were met with your tall blonde girlfriend towering over you, barely visible behind the enormous bouquet of flowers she was holding.

“I want to marry you too” were the first words to leave her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know that isn’t enough but if you’ll have me back I promise to make you smile, bring you flowers and tell you I love you every single day. I should have been proud to call you my girlfriend, I am proud to call you my girlfriend and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. (Y/n) I love you so much, please forgive me?”

The last bit of air left your lungs as the words you’d been wishing for were finally said. This time, it was you that was speechless and just nodded in response to her question of forgiveness. You know it must have been hard for her to come out but didn’t know that was one of the reasons she kept you hidden. Taking the flowers from her she enveloped you into her arms, feeling that sense of comfort and belonging that you’d been missing. Your head fitting perfectly under her chin as she squeezed you so tightly you thought you were going to burst. “Can I kiss you?” she asked innocently, lifting your chin with her forefinger “of course you can” the smile on your face no longer fake or forced as your lips met with hers, feeling like it was the beginning all over again. “Come here Cupid” Millie shouted as Rach run over to join in the embrace.

The next day Millie walked you into practice standing tall, proud and holding your hand. You said she didn’t have to but she insisted that she wanted to - today and every day, she’ll hold your hand wherever you go. Entering the gym where the rest of the team were who immediately turned their attention to both of you, cheering and clapping at your arrival. For the first time in 6 years, you’d never felt happier.

[doyouknowthischaracter]

RANDOM ASKS GRAB BAG

Putting a bunch of answered asks in one post so I don't spam your dashes too much. Under the cut because it's a very long post. If your ask isn't here, don't worry! The ask box is far from empty, and I'm sorta trying to group them by topic. Enjoy?

Anonymous asked: you mentioned in another ask that there were a few things you were probably going to check out from doing these polls and I was just curious which ones those are, if you don't mind sharing fjdjsj

I don't mind sharing! I had to go through the archive to remember which ones I wanted to check out, but a few of them would be The Walten Files, Red vs. Blue, The Murderbot Diaries, I Am In Eskew, and The Mistholme Museum of Mystery, Morbidity, and Mortality. Many of the characters posted here look interesting, but I'm such a slow watcher/player/reader/etc. that it'd take me decades to go through everything lol

Anonymous asked: Have you considered doing like uhhh idk how to explain properly, but statistics/data from loads of polls in a summary every so often? I've seen some poll blogs do a most known/least known type bar graph every so often. And I would be super interested in seeing this sort of thing for this blog!! It's fair enough if not though, obviously this would create a lot of extra work for you. Anyway, thanks for running this blog :-) Anonymous asked: I just asked a question about seeing the data statistics/ bar graphs - please ignore it! Just reread your pinned and realised I'd missed that bit :'). BUT, last point remains, thank you for running this blog and putting up with repetitive anons I bet aksjskdjsk

I haven't put the data in a graph yet, but if I figure out how to organize that in a way that's both comprehensible and actually tells us something new, I'll give it a try for sure. Until then, we do have the spreadsheet. And no worries, I'm glad you're enjoying the blog! :)

Anonymous asked: *sees a poll blog* "I must answer each and every poll I can"

Godspeed on your journey and remember to stay hydrated! 🫡

Anonymous asked: this is my favorite blog! Every morning I wake up and check the polls like they're the paper, just to say "I don't know them" Truely a humbling experience!

Happy to be your neighborhood paperboy!

@iceice-baeby asked: Are olyou fearing the day someone submits Solid Snake from MGS and you will choose the wrong picture Because everyone always seems to choose the wrong picture

The only difficulty will be in not using this one:

Anonymous asked: Just scrolled back through your blog up to posts from Dec 3rd and I know why those polls are closed now but I cannot describe the genuine anguish I felt seeing Mr Orange and going NO I KNOW HIM - I KNOW HIM!!!! Anyway I found this blog like ten minutes ago and I love it

Don't worry, he's A-OK! 👍

(Also, thanks! I appreciate your dedication.)

Anonymous asked: scrolling through to catch up on the characters and knowing a whole three of them was so bizarre. im not supposed to press the yes i know them button, im supposed to do my sworn duty and vote no with unending confusion. the world has been flipped on its head 😵‍💫

I bet the next 30 were characters you've never heard of, just for balance to be restored.

Anonymous asked: Whenever i misclick I feel sooooo bad like im sorry my dear friend for not recognizing you I apologize for my rudeness

No polls so far ended with only one vote difference between answers, so you don't have to feel too bad. For now. 👀

Anonymous asked: this is fun cause i’ve definitely submitted some characters but i’ve immediately forgotten who. so i’ll also be pleasantly surprised to see my beloveds on the blog.

A gift from you to you, courtesy of unreliable memory! Sweet!

Anonymous asked: Devastating. I keep missing the voting for the only characters I know.

You'll do it one day, I believe in you!!

@iceice-baeby asked: Would you consider writing in the tags if YOU know a character or not You have done it sometimes before, but I'd be curious if you do recognise some of those random niche as all hell blorbos Also I can't wait for my Blorbos turn. Because either He-and-she is gonna take most obscure place, OR I will actually find maybe more than two people, myself included, who know him-and-her and who I can ramble at for hours until they block me

Oh yeah, for sure. I didn't think anyone would be interested to know, but I can do that when I remember to!

Did your blorbo show up already?

Anonymous asked: I have been having the opposite problem of everyone else, apparently. I'll see a name and be like, "I don't know who that is". But then I see the picture and realize… Yes I do!

That's why I take the time to include fitting pictures, helps jog the memory!

Anonymous asked: I feel very superior every time I know a character most people don't

Hey, nobody likes a show-off. (<- Joking)

Anonymous asked: Wait, has Beetlejuice not been submitted?? I could've sworn I submitted the musical version! Anonymous asked: Oh wait no I didn't submit musical Beetlejuice to you, got you mixed up with @/every-character-ever-poll lol my bad

Indeed he hasn't been submitted yet, maybe next time!

@thetisming asked: sorry for saying something negative in the replies to a post someone was being a dick about jukebox musicals

No worries, but don't let it get to you. People are allowed to dislike your favorite things even without any good reason. It's a matter of taste, which is highly subjective. It's more constructive to focus your attention on people who do enjoy the same things as you!

@autism-criminal asked: What is your favorite color of the rainbow (red orange yellow green blue indigo purple) ?

Orange! 🍊 What's yours? :)

Anonymous asked: "data is not accurate" bro if ur going to a tumblr poll blog for accurate data you NEED to reassess some things asdfghjkl; anyway this blog is great thank you for running it it's a lot of fun and has resulted in some very funny interactions between me and my fiance. notably "what the fuck do you MEAN 6% of the sans undertale website doesn't know who sans undertale is" and "i'm sorry i simply don't believe that ANYONE doesn't know who DRACULA is"

Different people come here with different expectations, I suppose. Which is fine, I don't mind, but they're bound to be disappointed if they expect 100% accuracy all the time. But anyway! I'm happy to hear I can provide a new form of enrichment for you and your fiancé!

@sweetpollyolliver asked: So many manga and anime characters and I know like 1% of them 😭

I'm ngl, I'm not a big manga/anime connoisseur either, so I'm just as lost as you most of the time lol 🤝 (<- shaking hands in solidarity)

@cringelordofchaos asked: If I go insane one day I am going to try to make an English translation for Mesec Boje Purpura so everyone can know who veštica Noks is

I'm fully behind you! Keep us updated if you do.

Anonymous asked: I scroll through your blog. I don’t recognise any of these characters. ‘No,’ I click, ‘no,’ ‘no,’ ‘no.’ I am content in the darkness of the rock I live under. But, alas, all things must end. I continue my scroll, the glee of the irrelevant rampant in my veins. But what’s this? It can’t be… My shelter is cruelly ripped away and the brutal light of knowledge seeks me out like a bloodhound, it gives me no place to hide. ‘Yes,’ I sob, defeated, ‘Yes, I do know the jjba character.’

A modern-day Greek tragedy, truly 💔

Anonymous asked: was really surprised to vote and see that a character was 100% know them. then I noticed I got there early enough to be the only vote

For one shining, brilliant moment they were 100% known and surely that counts for something.

Anonymous asked: You should make up a character and make a poll for them and see how many people lie or misclick

Well....... I'm not going to comment on that. 🐰

Anonymous asked: I follow this blog and another blog that does smash or pass and occassionally I will come to one of your posts and examine the images to decide and then remember this blog's gimmick before trying to hit smash

Imagine voting smash there and then coming here to vote "I don't know them at all" on the same character. Brutal.

@ink7blot asked: *sees big naturals* I hate that. *reblogs*

A job well done, then 😌

[misspearly1]

Yours

Pairing: Joel Miller x You (F!Reader) 

Summary: Feeling one particular emotion at the wrong time and place, how does it affect the friendship between you and your fellow survivor Joel Miller? Your only good friend and trusted ally amongst a group of twenty, who remains oblivious of your silent crush - how does the man react when you're running away from packs of Hunters and you are… aroused. 

WC: 3.2k

Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Smut. Hunters doing hunter shit (no one gets hurt). Little bit of angst (With a happy ending of course). Unprotected PIV sex in a risky, unsafe location. Oral. (M receiving) Face fucking, deep throating. Dirty talk. Praise kink. Slight Ownership Kink possibly? Breast/Nipple play. And lastly, lots of fluff. 

AN: Yass, I’ve missed writing out oneshots and really enjoyed exploring this short story. It’s nice to take a break and use a different era/setting, so I hope ya’ll enjoy this as much as I did. (May pick it back up in the future, idk yet) <33

Emotions are a funny thing right? They’re just feelings, a chemical synapse in your brain responding to everything around you in some type of way - they’re funny to you because you can’t explain those feelings sometimes, and this is one of those times where you can’t explain why or how you feel the way you do. 

The harrowing experience in which you are going through right now is just like every other day in this dark world; passing through a town, and surprise surprise, you get ambushed, split up from your group and therefore have to fight your way out. Same shit, different day.

This would count as the third time it has happened in the last four month traveling on the open road with your small group of survivors, and honestly, you’re starting to get used to it.  

The Lakeside Lodges used to be your camp once upon a time, but just like every other camp as it seems, it fell to the hands of Infected and you all had to move on. Your fellow survivors aren’t all that bad, there are a few questionable people of course, there always are, but the vast majority are safe to be around, and besides, you can take care of yourself if any one of them tries to overstep. 

The rules are as follows; no stealing, no fighting or killing each other and if you see something first, it’s yours. You just have to yell it out like the boss can hear you - and so far, there hasn't been any push back with those rules set by Deacon - the leader of the group. He does a decent job at keeping the rowdy ones in line and a lot of people look up to him. Not you, but mostly the men in your group. 

They respect him, but you, on the other hand, respect his sister. You don’t dislike Deacon, but you don’t exactly place him on a pedestal like the others do. If anyone should be in charge, then it should be his sister Melissa, or maybe Joel Miller. Truthfully, Melissa would be the better choice and the only reason you nominate Joel is because you have a crush on him. He has leadership material for sure, but he’s not interested in leading twenty people into a new world. 

And you know this because you’re his only friend, well, sort of. You annoyed him enough to give in and open up a little, but not too much. The man is overall a quiet person, keeps himself to himself and doesn’t bother anybody. Initially you thought he did that to avoid a fight, but after seeing him fight on many occasions now, you know it’s because he could quite easily kill any man in this group, therefore he doesn’t get involved with anyone to avoid making a mistake that gets him banished. 

Today is day three of your hellish escape out of this town with groups of hunters and the dead around every corner, but lucky for you, Joel was at your side when your group got scattered. You weren’t on your own, which would seriously lessen your odds of survival, but the reason you are having a meltdown right now is because of that one emotion you feel during a time like this. Arousal - you are aroused, and that’s why it’s so damn funny to you. 

It’s funny because it’s confusing and silly. You should be terrified for your life right now. Joel and you ducked into a hotel with Hunters hot on your heels, but the way the man was grabbing at your arm, pushing you in front of him, as if shielding you from any harm, was driving you up the wall. Why? Why does this guy, who is so quiet and doesn’t get involved with anyone, stick his neck out for your safety? 

You assume that it’s because he cares. In his own little ways maybe, but it’s in moments like this where you really get to catch a glimpse of how far you and Joel have come together. It’s called friendship, people that you can trust. And Joel is your friend, but boy do you want it to be more than that. You want him to take you in his arms, seal his lips over your with a fervent kiss then fuck you senseless. Stop thinking about him like that! Now is not the time! You yell inside. 

“Keep movin’, girl.” Joel urges you forward quickly, but carefully too so you don’t trip and fall. “Keep going, just keep going.” He repeats and your mind thinks of him saying those words in an entirely different scenario. Sighing frustration, you needed to get a grip of yourself and act proper, especially at a time like this when you can hear the Hunters boots ascending the stairwell. There’s only five of them, easy numbers to take, but Joel seems adamant to put space between you both and them for some reason. 

Upon reaching the end of the hall, he looks into the empty rooms and sees that one of them has a giant hole in the ceiling. “Alright, up there.” He ushers inside fast. “We’ll lose them up here.” 

“Joel-” You try to protest, finding reason for his absurdly different fight tactics. “-Why are we trying to lose them? We should fight.” 

“Not now, Y/N.” He brushes you off, then forcefully turns you around to face the cabinet underneath the hole. Gasping from the contact of his hands boosting you up by your ass, suddenly you don’t feel the need to protest anymore and love his new fight tactics. Jesus! That small amount of contact was sparking pleasure, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. 

Turning around and reaching out for him, he climbs the cabinet with ease and takes your hand to be pulled up through the hole, however he loses his footing and causes you both to stumble backwards, the action pushing your breasts into his chest as his thigh jams between your legs. “Oh!” You moan, and your cheeks instantly begin to burn, however Joel doesn’t pay any attention to it. 

“Shit, that was my bad. Are you hurt or good to keep moving?” He asks, completely oblivious to the fact you had just breathed a moan into his face, enjoying the contact of his leg grinding against your core. “Y-yes.” You stutter, hoping to keep your silly emotions hidden from him.  “I’m good. Let’s move.” 

Moving out of the room and into the hallway at a slow pace, you could hear the Hunters searching for you and Joel on the floor below, however there was a much more prevalent danger lurking on this floor. Infected were standing dormant, awaiting stimulus in their surroundings. “Oh shit.” Joel grunts softly, pulling you close to him and dipping into another empty room. 

As much as you like how protective he was being right now, it wasn’t like him and you had enough. “What is wrong with you?” You ask, trying to reason with him. “We’re putting ourselves into more and more danger here. We need to kill the threats and get out of here.” 

“Y/N - not now.” Joel persists, gesturing with his hand to get you to stop prying. “You wouldn’t understand anyways, darlin’.” 

“Understand what?” Asking him another question, even though you can visually see that he is pissed off, you felt comfortable enough with the man to know he wouldn’t direct that anger at you, but he doesn’t answer. Watching him look around the room for anything he can use to fight with, you watch the man you’ve seen fight enemies with his bare hands look frantic and distressed. It was worrying. 

Why is he so worried? You wonder. We’ve been in worse situations before. After hearing the distant sounds of Hunters climbing through the hole you and Joel climbed through, he looked at you with heavy eyes. His expression cycled through the emotions, as if there were too many to handle all at once. “Jesus, Joel.” You whisper, shaking your head at him. “Talk to me, what is wrong with you right no-”

“I don’t want to lose you!” He yells - actually yells, not caring about who or what he alerts. An imaginary gust of wind blows through the room between you and Joel as you just stand there, staring at him. Those words drifted around the room, clung to the air and held a heavy amount of weight. He doesn’t want to lose me? Your eyes widen with the meaning of that statement. A smile on your lips appears. That imaginary weight hanging in the balance drops and love wraps itself around your body like a warm blanket. Joel doesn’t want to lose you, because he loves you. 

Gliding across the room, your lips crash onto his in a searing kiss as you push him backwards. The sounds of Hunters fighting Infected fading out in the background as you push him into a closet. Joel pushes back, but only far enough to reach for the doors and close them, completely encasing you in darkness, wrapped up in his big, strong arms, wrapped up in his love. 

“Y/N.” He groans your name in a whisper, a soft breathy sigh, hinted with desperation. Fighting for leverage by grabbing your hips, the man pulls you into him as he bucks his hips forward, showing his dire need in this exact moment. Silly, silly emotions in a time like this, but it’s apparent that you’re not the only one with untimely emotions. Joel is hard, painfully hard, it’s currently poking into your lower stomach. And you - you are soaked through with desire. 

“Joel.” Breaking off from his passionate kiss, you hold a finger to his lips and whisper. “Stay quiet, handsome.” You plant a kiss on the corner of his lips then fall to your knees, the action drawing out a shaky ‘fuck me’ from him before he tosses his head back, biting the back of his hand. Your delicate hands roam the expanse of his clothed crotch, palming his bulge with intention before working the belt buckle open. 

Wishing that he could see you within the darkness of this small space, Joel focuses on your touch and pictures your beautiful face behind his closed eyes. The zipper to his jeans open and his cock springs free, audibly slapping his stomach. He breathes heavily with anticipation, feeling you pull his jeans down until they pool around his ankles, and then, your warm breath fans over him. The sensation of your soft lips and shallow breath trailing up his inner thigh making his cock twitch, you stop at his hip and plant a kiss on the skin. 

“Y/N - please.” Pleadings choking up his throat, he can physically feel you smiling into the kiss on his other hip before you reassure him. “We’ll get there, baby.” You say sweetly while dragging your tongue up his rock hard cock then back down again. “I want to take my time with you.” 

“I'm afraid we won’t have enough time, darlin’.” He grunts, still biting the back of his hand to muffle his moans, however he couldn’t stop the sharp gasping noise he made when your lips landed on his balls. You took the sac in your mouth, swirled your tongue around and very carefully sucked, just enough pressure that it was all pleasure for him. “Goddammit!” His growl hums through his hand, biting the flesh so hard it was close to drawing blood. “When the time comes, girl.” Joel's voice whispers down from above, laced with warning. “When the time comes, you’ll feel my payback for days, darlin’.” 

“Oh, I look forward to it.” You moan, then correct yourself. “In fact, I’m desperate for it, Joel. I’m desperate for you.” Licking a path up his cock again, this time you give the man what he so dearly wants and take the head of him your mouth, extracting a pornographic noise from his lips. You hum eagerly when burying your face into the hairs of his mound, holding yourself there for a few seconds before pulling back with an obscene gasp for air. 

“Show me how desperate you are, Joel.” You heave a silent request for him to take over, to fuck your face like he owns your mouth like it’s his own personal warm hole. “Take me, baby - I’m yours.” You mewl, practically begging him. It was disgraceful of you, on your knees with your mouth open, ready for him. 

“My pleasure, doll.” Joel grunts before threading his fingers through your hair, gripping it tightly before thrusting his cock inside your mouth. You choked, feeling the tip of his prod the back of your throat in the most delicious way. There was no time to wait and so he began fucking your mouth at a steady pace, giving you a break for air each time he pulled his hips back. “Play with yerself, babydoll.” He groans through gritted teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the wet glucking noise of you taking him whole every time. “Go on, get that pussy ready for me, Y/N.” 

Moaning around him, the bliss-filled tears stain your cheeks as you slip your hand down your body and inside your jeans fingers landing directly over your clit. You jolt from the delectable sensation and coat your fingers with your slick before delving two inside your quivering hole. “Oh that’s it, darlin’. Good girl.” Joel praises, smiling from the sounds he could hear. “You’re drenched, I can hear that wet little pussy, baby.”

Moaning again, you nod when he buries your face into his mound and Joel keeps you there while using his other hand to palm your breasts through the fabric. “Know how many times I caught myself staring at these? Huh?” He asks, then pinches your nipple, drawing out a cry from you. “Oh, there she is.” He mocks a sickly sweet compliment. “There��s my girl.” 

Hips pulling back to give you a break for air, Joel twists his body and brings you with him, now with your back placed to the wall. “Keep those open.” He kicks your feet apart, then warns. “You’re gonna take my load, baby. I’m close.” You manage to utter a teasing reply before he forcefully opens your mouth and buries his cock inside again, muffling your moans of pleasure. 

Sampling a taste of him, you swallowed beads of pre-cum and used your other hand to cup his balls, fondling them gently to get him there. You jaw aches and the back of your throat felt bruised, but if you could, you’d allow Joel to fuck your mouth mercilessly for as long as he possibly wanted. His pleasure is yours, and although you like receiving, you love to give a whole lot more. Just hearing him grunting above and feeling his hips snap forward was driving you over the edge into the pools of ecstasy. You wish you could see his cock, but just feeling him in your mouth suggests that the stretch is going to be impressive when the time comes. 

“Shit!” He breathes sharply, resting his forearm against the wall while fucking your mouth. He slipped his hand behind your head, protecting you from the contact as his pace picks up. “Oh God. I’m gonna cum. Holy shit, holy shit! Baby, I’m cumming!” Joel yells, bursting ropes of his warmth on your tongue and you gulp it back, emptying your mouth to take more. The noise of your actions was loud, you could hear it yourself and you knew Joel could too. He even praised it. “Yes, baby, yes. Keep going, just like that.” He cries, thighs jerking from the sensitivity. “Take it all, Y/N. Nnugh! Good girl, there we go.” 

Pulling back and only hearing you catch your breath from below, Joel does the same and breathes through the aftermath of his orgasm. He misses the sight of your face, hates the darkness in this closet that keeps him from seeing you. Nothing outside this small space could be heard and he takes a gamble that the danger has disappeared. Standing up straight, he kicks the door open behind him with his foot and light floods the room. And he didn’t think you could look any more sexy than what you are. 

Sitting on the floor with your knees to your chest, spread out with your hand inside your jeans, where there was a clear damp patch in the crotch area, but your face…Oh God, your face drives him - a sound minded man - absolutely stir crazy with hunger for more. A mixture of his cum and your spit smeared across your chin, your pretty eyes blotchy with tears as your cheeks blossom red - you look beautiful. Beautiful and desirable. “Oh.” You say, crooking one eyebrow with a smirk on your lips. “Looks like someone isn’t finished yet.” 

Looking at his growing cock, it hardened again and you were right, he isn’t finished. Not at all. “C’mere.” He whispers softly, reaching down to help you off the floor. Kissing you on the lips while walking backwards until he meets the base of a bed, Joel slips his hands to your front and impatiently opens up your jeans. The man didn’t even wait until they were at your feet before sliding his cock through your slit, coating himself with your desire. The position was something you’ve never done before, he was rolling his hips forward, using your thighs that were squeezed together to give him pleasure, which was stimulating your clit. 

“I need you.” He mumbles into your mouth, desperate to feel your warmth wrap around him. “Take your shirt off, baby. I’ve fantasized about how your boobs look for too long.” 

Taking your shirt off along with your bra, Joel wastes no time with ducking his head down and taking your pert nipple into his mouth, sucking on the sensitive skin harshly with a gentle bite. “Joel!” You mewl. Tossing your head back as he grunts like some wild animal chasing his own high. Dropping an arm to your leg, he brings it up high, spreading you apart so he can take what he really wants. A broken whine escapes you as he inserts the tip of him inside, round and bulbous, stretching you open nicely for what's to come next. 

“I don’t ever want to lose you.” Joel repeats his statement from earlier, burying himself to the hilt inside your heat. Relishing in your moans of pleasure as you clench around him, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers. “That’s why we’re leaving the group. We’re never going back to them - they’re gonna get us killed and I can’t lose you, darlin. I can’t.” 

“Joel.” You sigh a breath of relief. After planting a kiss on his lips, joy floods your chest with a smile spreading across your lips. You look him in the eyes, feeling his warmth inside of you, wrapping you up in his love, and therefore bringing you to repeat your statement from earlier too. “I’m yours, Joel.” 

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Joel Miller Taglist: @extraneous-trip @readsalot73 @luvmeijii @pale-gingerale @joelsflannel @something-tofightfor @ponyofmilfmom @hb8301 @squidwell @spideysimpossiblegirl @mooraakath @michele131 @chxpsi @zeida @wordsfromshona @dins-cyare @maggiehelene @trickstersp8 @faceache111 @killergodessmm