#chuckling at how frustrated this man is and a system he can never change

[itneverendshere]

a circus ain't a love story - baby daddy! rafe.

request: "baby daddy! rafe where reader and rafe are not together and she’s going on dates with men and he’s jealous but not like possessive jealous but like 🤭 jealous?" @zyafics

warnings: cursing; rafe's an asshole but he's just going through it <3; a lil angsty??; lots of tension and pent-up frustration; they just need to fuck it out honestly.

rafe likes to think of himself as a changed man. 

long gone is the reckless impulsive guy that reigned horror in the outer banks. he’s grown now, the man of the family, and a father. he spends his days working hard, providing for his family, and cherishing every moment with his baby girl. 

but when he learns you’ve been seeing other men after your ‘amicable’ breakup, he feels like he’s nineteen and ranging in misplaced anger all over again. younger days, when his temper ruled his actions and consequences were an afterthought.

old insecurities resurface, whispering doubts and fears into his mind.

you’d broken up before, years ago, and it barely lasted a month before both of you caved in. but now? now, you have a baby together, and for some reason, the breakup feels…permanent. 

he thought you just needed a breather from him, a little space to settle your mind after going through all the changes with your pregnancy. maybe he took you for granted, maybe he became too comfortable, too complacent in the belief that your love was unshakeable. and he’s paying for it. 

“where the fuck are you going?”

he knows exactly where you’re going, he’s just a masochist.

rafe’s always been vocal about his thoughts around you, having virtually no filter between his brain and mouth. it’s something you’ve gotten used to after five years in a relationship, the man is nothing if not blunt and crass. but now, it's different.

you’re not a couple anymore. you shouldn't have to put up with his nagging bullshit. but you have a child together, which means that you’ll never be able to fully scratch him out of your system. 

how were you so good before and yet so terrible once your daughter got here? 

you sigh, choosing to keep your back to him. 

“date.”

you hear him snort, not even having to peek to know he’s shaking his head, blue eyes lingering between your new dress and the ceiling, “my bad. thought you were going to a gala.”

you turn then, hand on your waist as you take him in. it’s hard not to stare at his freshly shaved hair and it only makes you want to slap him stupid for not doing it years ago. what’s the point if you can’t have him? 

“why? it’s not illegal to put in effort.” you tilt your head slightly, ignoring the way his eyes are burning holes through your shiny legs.

he pulls his eyes back to your face, but all you can see is the imprinted vision of your daughter laying on his chest earlier, her chubby cheek pressed against his shirt and her little hand curled around his finger. 

rafe’s heart clenches, the bitterness of your words sinking deep into his bones. he knows what you're implying, knows that you're trying to hurt him.

“he’s worth all that, huh?”

you shrug your shoulder, pieces of your hair falling back as you attempt to act nonchalantly, “maybe he is.”

rafe’s lips twitch into a half-smirk, half-grimace, a familiar expression that used to make your heart race but now just knots your stomach.

“who is it this time? it’s just kinda hard to keep track of your dates.”

his gaze lingers on you, searching for something, perhaps a hint of the girl he fell in love with, buried beneath layers of resentment and exhaustion.

you grit your teeth, the frustration growing beneath the surface threatening to spill over, “you don’t know him.”

he shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping his lips. “got yourself a touron?”

“don’t piss me off.”

he raises his hands in mock surrender. “i’m not trying to. just curious.”

“his name is mike.”

rafe's lips quirk into a sardonic smile as he hears the name. "mike, huh? sounds like a guy who sells insurance or teaches yoga on the weekends."

you shoot him a glare, unamused by his jest. "can you just be serious for once?"

catching sight of the offended look in your face, he adds, “it’s not my fault you keep choosing the ugly ones.”

you stare at him incredulously, “you don’t even know him!”

“hear me out, okay? if you’re ever going to give charlotte a sibling might as well—“

you’d throw the mug on your kitchen table at his head if charlotte wasn’t sleeping in the room next door.

“you think you’re so fucking funny don’t you?!” 

rafe hushes you, one of his hands rising to his lips, “what happened to no cursing in the house?”

your eye twitches, fingers itching to wrap themselves around his throat. “i’ll strangle you right here, rafe.”

“you got a new kink, mama?”

his ability to push your buttons has always been unparalleled, and it seems he's mastered the art even more since your breakup. he still manages to evoke a weird mixture of irritation and fondness within you.

“you can’t keep doing this. i like mike, maybe i want to date mike.”

rafe's expression shifts, his brows furrowing slightly as if your words have struck a chord. but then, just as quickly, his facade hardens again. he raises an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "i’m just trying to help. you said the exact same thing about whatever his fucking name was two months ago.”

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “see! you’re trying to patronize me.”

“’m not.”

“right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, “course you aren’t.”

his taunting smirk is more than a little infuriating. “i just doubt this guy is gonna stick around.”

“oh, so that’s it?” you prod him, laughing in his face, hands curling into tight fists. you get closer, staring him down as you look upwards. “we’re back to lying to each other now?”

rafe’s face is contorted into a grimace; eyebrows furrowed, and you can feel his steady breathing before he speaks.

”i can do this all day.” he scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice, “i think the moment you tell him about charlotte he’s gonna run back to whatever hole he creeped out of. you think he wants to be a daddy?”

“who said he has to? that’s your job. maybe i just want to fuck him, you ever think about that?” the admission feels like a betrayal and a liberation all at once.

it’s a familiar dance you two have been doing since the breakup – hurling accusations and blame at each other like weapons in a war neither of you can win.

rafe’s smirk fades into a scowl as your words hit him like a slap in the face. he takes a step back, one of his hands instinctively rising in a placating gesture, but there's a defiant glint in his eyes that tells you he's not backing down without a fight. 

his jaw tightens, “now you’re just trying to get under my skin.”

you throw your hands up in despair, “it’s always about you, unbelievable.” 

you feel like your heart is being vacuumed into your stomach as he stares.

“me?” his fingers dig into his chest, as if you’ve shot him right there, “you're the one who's constantly bringing up other guys, rubbing it in my face like- like i'm supposed to just sit back and take it."

you let out a slow controlled breath and attempt to loose your body movements. “we’re not doing this again.”

rafe knows he's treading on thin ice, but relents, “oh, m’sorry sweets. forgot you hate to be reminded i care.”

“care?” you laugh but it’s void of any humor, “is this your way of showing me you care? making me miserable? slut-shaming the mother of your daughter?”

“didn’t mean it like that, don’t twist my words.”

you square your shoulders, refusing to let him see the cracks in your armor. "you said what you said, and you can't take it back."

his jaw clenches, and you can almost hear the gears turning in his mind as he searches for the right words to say, “you’re pushing it.”

there’s a fiery anger in your eyes that makes his body warm. “so fucking what?”

without a word, rafe closes the distance between you, his movements tentative yet purposeful. his hand reaches out, fingers gripping your cheeks, his rough touch sending your body into a frenzy. you want to push him away, but the pull between you is too strong to resist. you’ve been yearning for his touch for months, no one knows how to pull your strings like he does.

“you drive me fucking insane, y’know that?”

you merely blink, pretending to be bored, “go fuck yourself.”

and then, in a rush of pent-up desire and frustration, rafe snakes a hand around the back of your head to pull you to meet him in a passionate kiss.

it’s all sorts of desperate as if trying to bridge the problems between you, you're arching into him as his hand trails down your spine. his tongue is brushing across yours in a tentative swipe before you’re meeting him halfway, kissing him urgently. there's a hunger in rafe’s touch, a desperation to reclaim what his lost, and you respond in kind, your hands roaming over his back, tracing the contours of his muscles with a familiarity that sends shivers down his spine.

“you’re not going on a fucking date.” he pants between kisses, the way his lips caress your face keeping you close distracting you momentarily.

“you can’t stop me.” 

his hand slides around your waist, over the curve of your ass, grabbing a handful in the process, “watch me.”

[arafilez]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ▰ ▰ ✶ WØRLD EPISØDE FIN: WILL ⪨

ㅤㅤ➛ ㅤiii.ㅤ EMERGENCY 𒉽 jeong yunho❛ 𓇿

🥂̸̤ㅤㅤMDNI smut, fluff ㅤ ✸ㅤyou can hack into anything and everything! except maybe jeong yunho's heartㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ w: kissing, flirting, praise kink, size kink, oral (f receiving) ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ wc: 3.2kㅤㅤ𠈔ㅤㅤ moodboard

ㅤ❛ you're the reason why i am dancing in the mirror ❜

You type away furiously in your laptop with the new code that Yeosang has sent to your base and continue changing bits of your programming code to try and infiltrate into the Z-dimension’s security system. It was hard and with the variety of codes in front of you the best thing you can do now is stay calm and concentrate. You still have time till tomorrow.

Wooyoung is almost done with the hologram of the ship, Yunho is fixing some of the hardware and you only need to crack this code. You rack your brain to find another loop you are missing, some kind of infinite series, or it might be a null loop that you have to add when you hear a loud crash. Jerking up your head from your laptop your first instinct is to run because there has been an attack.

Your second instinct is to stand in confusion as you hear Yunho scream, “What the fuck, man?” to your brother and him blabbering some excuses. Yunho shakes his head and goes back to work as you look at your brother who just winks at you mischievously. With disgust painting all your features, you set back to work ignoring Wooyoung’s whines about you being a ‘bad’ sister.

You type down the various codes again and try to work but nothing comes up as a frustrated groan leaves your lips. Should you try a completely different method or go back to the basics of a for-loop and add a simple elif loop. But wasn’t that too simple? You jerk up in surprise again as you feel a hand on your shoulder and turn around saying, “Wooyoung, I don’t have time for your shit.”

Your words dry at the back of your throat as you look at Yunho’s smiling face with the contrast of his veiny hand on your shoulder. Should a simple touch make you light-headed? No, it should not, absolutely not. “Hi Yun,” you murmur and your ears suddenly feel hot when you extend his grin looking at you.

Your insides feel like melting, but before you let your heart win, your mind interferes and you cough lightly. He also seems to get out of a trance as he says, “You can do this tomorrow, sleep for today, and you look like shit.”

“Such sweet words you say Yun!” you roll your eyes affectionately, and he chuckles. Leaning towards you he gently places a hand on your hips and whispers, “I can say more if you want me to.”

“Do I now?” you smirk lightly looking up at his tall figure as you think you see his eyes darken just a little, a smirk adorning his pretty face but almost instantly his hands leave your waist and he is gone. You exhale lightly shaking your head at your hallucinations and close your laptop.

Yunho is flirty. He will flirt with a stray cat if given a chance and you scold your heart lightly at it racing for him. Yunho didn’t mean it, he never meant it and it has always been that way. Him flirting, you flirting back and that was it.

“Gosh, stop with the heart eyes, it’s disgusting,” Wooyoung says making fake gagging sounds as you roll your eyes at your twin and get up. “So did you see that?” Wooyoung asks looking at you expectantly and you furrow your eyebrows.

“See what Wooyoung-ah?” you ask as you move around your desks turning off the projectors and look up to see his wiggling eyebrows. He smiles mischievously saying, “How he got angry when I threw that?”

“Yes, why did you even throw that thing so hard? I thought we were attacked, you piece of shit,” you scold him gritting your teeth as he makes a face at you which screams ‘I am so done with my dumb sister.’

“I did it for you, remember, how you said Yunho looks hot when angry?” Wooyoung grins and your fingers pause over the projector switch as you look up and scream, “What?”

“He. Looks. Hot. The point was made. So I did it for your eyes to be blessed,” he screams back and you walk over to him holding him by his collar. As you smack your brother's shoulder, your face is probably adorned with fifty shades of red and pink.

“Sh-shut up, and stop screaming,” you whisper-yell at him and another patch of hyena laugh comes from him as you slowly release his shirt.

“You are so gone for him, sis.”

“Am not.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You said he looked hot yesterday when he had grease in his face while he was fixing the machine,” Wooyoung cocks his eyebrows as you look away. Well a small patch of oil and grease on his right cheek made him look sexy which was no lie but the mistake was telling your hyper brother about it.

“You like him so much, it is gross,” Wooyoung speaks a little too loudly as you try to shush him but he continues, “Oh we both know you have degrading kink too, even if you try to hide it.”

“Woyo shut the fuck up,” you scream jabbing him in the side to which he just giggles like the menace he was.

“Are you guys okay?” Yunho peeks from the door and you say ‘yes’ a little too quick for your liking. Wooyoung clicks his tongue in disapproval and whispers, “What did I teach you about playing hard to get?”

You don’t pay attention to him but instead look at Yunho, staring at him quite openly as you take in his messy silver hair sprawled over his forehead and being lightly tied back with a bandana.

“Take a picture, it will last longer,” Yunho chuckles leaning his tall body against the doorframe and you can hear Wooyoung snicker behind you as you look down scolding yourself for getting caught for your blatant stare.

Yunho walks in and keeping down the file he had gone to fetch walks towards your desk and you can hear Wooyoung mumble something along the lines of “Seonghwa hyung is calling me” before you can call out his bluff because Seonghwa hadn’t returned yet, he sprints off leaving you and Yunho alone in the room.

You click your tongue at your brother and his antics to “get you and Yunho laid”, his words, not yours, and know he did this on purpose. If you make a list right now it will be endless how many times your brother has actually done this.

He once locked you two in a laundry room which had another door, and once tried to lock you two in his room at a New Year’s party, instead, his overly drunk self, locked himself, successfully spinning the bottle for you two to kiss only for San to barf all over the floor, trying to send you two in a ‘seven minutes in heaven’ only for the lights to be cut off and hear Mingi scream his ears off. You appreciated his efforts but you knew this from the heart- the universe doesn’t want you and Yunho together. You knew you weren’t Yunho’s type but who was your brother to listen.

Yunho’s fingers softly caress yours as you are broken from your thoughts and he smiles softly saying, “I will help you tidy up.”

“Yun, you don’t have to,” you say softly but he hums and says, “No, I volunteer,” and places a hand on his chest as if he was taking a pledge making you giggle at him.

But in the back of your mind you know Wooyoung is right about you two being too oblivious and trying to hide your feelings by sticking to casual flirting. You push these thoughts to the back of your mind but they come back. How Yunho’s eyes had lingered on your lips and your eyes even after San barfed, how he casually slid over to your desk and hovered over your figure while his fingers rested on yours when you told him to check a code. There’s plenty of space beside you but he always does that. You know his lust-filled eyes and the tinge of jealousy in them when Yeosang practices his seducing skills on you. How his eyes lingered on your exposed neck in the last mission and then trail along your jaw to your lips making you fidget on your seat as Hongjoong was handing out your positions.

And you enjoy this too much. The little push and pull game you two keep playing, the way he gives you his attention and you bask in it. But lately it has been too much. Playful flirting has turned to intense staring, light jokes have turned into him and you being too close physically but never escalated. And your fool of a heart was falling for all these.

“What is on your mind? Me?” Yunho says coming right in front of you and you look up at his tall frame looking deep into your eyes. Earlier you would have flirted right back, but now they have started to make you lose your voice, weaken your knees, and your hands sweat. The effect it had on you now was insane. If you didn’t have any better judgement you would push him down right there on the table and take him. Or let him take you. Either way works.

You shake your head stuttering out a “no” but Yunho doesn’t ponder much leaving you to your desk as he puts his own documents down on his table. After you two were done, you left, Yunho following suit and then the door closed automatically as you two walked out. The walk is quiet, tension thick in the air when you decide to test a theory.

You are one of the best technicians here, the best hacker, so maybe you can hack yourself into Yunho’s heart too.

You trip lightly on air, very much on purpose, and wait like a damsel in distress to fall and for Yunho to catch you. His muscular arms easily slide around your back and you grin satisfactorily in your mind at your plan being successful. You open your eyes with your best-acting face on when you see the smug grin on his face.

“Did you do that on purpose?” he cocks his eyebrows at you and you get up scoffing lightly, “You wish.”

You feel dizzy seeing his face as he leans close to you and his lips hover just above yours as he says, “I wish for a lot of things, you know?” You draw in a sharp breath at the close proximity but Yunho swiftly moves away, opens his door and calls out, “Don’t trip anymore on your way, I am not there to catch you, you know?” followed by a cheeky grin.

You enter your room, your thoughts screaming only Yunho’s name and you keep thinking about him even when you make yourself comfortable under your covers. God he is making you suffer so much, it has been an hour since the incident but his thoughts are unbearable, if only you can hold him by his collar and push him against the wall and make out.

And your brain clicks.

This is it.

This is what you have been missing. A firewall. The code is for breaking the firewall to get to the main security system. You scramble up, throwing your sheets down and putting a jacket over your t-shirt and shorts you walk out with your ID. You open the door of the lab and run to your table taking out the papers sprawling them on the table and typing out the code in the computer.

And it worked.

You jump in joy lightly and send a text to Hongjoong about the success which you knew he would check in the morning. You stumble lightly, tipsy from your happiness and you bump into a muscular chest behind you.

Yunho.

Yunho?

Shouldn’t he be sleeping?

“Why are you up?” his deep voice rumbles making goosebumps dance against your skin and you can feel your insides turning mushy.

“Just had to finish this,” you reply, voice coming out much breathier than you intend it to be and you glance at him just to retract your eyes because of his own boring into yours.

“Hmm? What you got there?” he hums lowly, his tall frame leaning over your back as his hands swipe open the computer while the other goes around your waist and holds the desk. You become a bit light-headed as soon as his cologne hits your nose and you inhale it sighing carelessly.

His head is now almost on your shoulder while your body is stiff as you grip the desk more rigidly when you intake the view of his veiny hands around you and on the mouse casually swiping through the code you had cracked earlier. Your breath becomes unstable as you realise the proximity and you curse your mind for liking the warmth of Yunho’s body pressed against your back.

“Well, Hongjoong is going to be satisfied,” he breaths out and you can feel it tickle your senses as you hum and look at his face. He looks at you back and for a moment you feel everything stop. His eyes glaze into yours and you look back into his dark ones and wonder what bliss could possibly come.

Yunho is so close to kissing you. His eyes are fixated on your lips and his whisper sends a warm flush all over your body, “If we do this, there’s no going back.” You are in a haze and you whisper, “Yes,” and it barely makes it past your lips before Yunho kisses you.

And suddenly the air is knocked out of you. This was an emergency situation, an uproar went in your head.

Jeong Yunho is kissing you, his lips on yours and you push down all questions in the back of your mind and kiss him back. The kiss becomes impatient almost immediately as he grips your waist and holds your cheek with his other hand manoeuvring the kiss. You kiss him back feverishly, lips clashing harshly against each other and you tangle your hands in his hair tugging at them harshly.

He pulls away for a breath of air and you pant lightly as you look up to his lust-filled eyes and he hoarsely speaks up, “My room.” The walk through the corridor is a blur and you cling onto Yunho’s arms as he quickly opens the door and closes it after you two enter.

Pushing you against the door he kisses you again and swipes his tongue over your lips and you grant him access as a slow, elicit moan leaves your mouth. Fighting for dominance is not useful as Yunho taps your thighs twice and you comply with him jumping and locking your legs along his torso as he carries you to his bed.

Lying you down gently Yunho’s eyes run over your messy figure before he asks, “Are you sure?”

Your heart melts at the sincerity in his tone and you nod a “yes” quickly not wanting to waste any more time as Yunho dives in for your neck. He presses light open-mouth kisses along your jawline before moving his head and sucking harshly on your neck. You moan loudly as he continues nibbling delighted at your response and presses a light kiss adorning his work after.

You start to become impatient and almost rip open his shirt and he chuckles lowly saying, “Slow down, kitten.” You exhale lightly at the nickname and watch him pull your t-shirt over your head and throw it to the other side of the bed. You run your nails through his toned chest drooling over the perfect texture and he chuckles.

“Damn no bra, aren’t you naughty, kitten?” he slurs his words lightly and you throw your head back in pleasure as he takes one of your perked-up nipples and fiddles with it.

“I-I was just-" You try to finish your sentence and he hums bringing his voice lower by an octave and looks at you almost challenging you to finish the sentence. “I was just going to sleep so I had no bra o-oh my fuck Yunho,” you moan loudly as he dips down suddenly sucking your other nipple. You arch your back in pleasure and his hands slide down your waist playing with the hem of your shorts before yanking them off along with your panties.

The cold air hits your clit making you shiver from the sensation and he smirks looking at your state. Arousal drips from your vagina and he places a long finger collecting them and pushes his finger in you. You cry loud at the immense pleasure you feel and you see his pants straining as he moans too and says, “Fuck, you are beautiful.”

He scissors another finger inside you and then adds another and you moan his name loudly as he hits your g-spot frequently and picks up pace and you feel your stomach tightening. You are close, so close when he suddenly pulls out his fingers and pants and you open your eyes at him desperately.

“Need you,” he moans and quickly opens his pants and boxers and you almost gasp at the sight. You knew he was big, but this was a whole new level and you drool at it. Yunho would be proud but right now he was horny and needy and needed to be inside you badly.

He hovers over positioning himself and pushes inside you and you moan his name out loud as he stills himself. When you tap him to move he obeys and picks up his pace, his strong hands holding your hips down as he slams into you. “Fuck faster, Yun,” you scream and he coos at the nickname.

“Fuck baby aren’t you small and tight?” he moans explicitly when he feels the tip of his cock on your stomach, “All for me.” Your eyes roll back and you chant his name feeling your high build up fast at his pace.

His cock slams against your walls making you light-headed as you barely murmur an ‘I’m close’ and you can hear him grunt something along the lines of ‘Me too.’ With one last long-drawn moan you cum, your high getting released rapidly. He pulls himself out before coming all over your stomach.

You pant lightly, slowly returning to reality as Yunho gets up to get some wet tissues from the bedside table. You watch him silently as he cleans you and himself up while you lie and adore his face that was sculpted by the gods. His awkward clearing of throat brings you back from your trance and you look at the shy smile that makes its way into his face.

“Listen urm, I like you, y/n,” he speaks shyly gazing at your fingers which were now intertwined with his and you smile back saying, “I like you too, Yun.”

“Oh good,” he exhales and you laugh at his puppy-like demeanour and run your fingers through his grey hair as he leans into your touch. He brings his lips down to kiss you and you can feel his smile as you kiss him back softly as he holds your hands in his. Pulling back he puts another peck on your lips as you two become a giggling mess under the warm covers.

✸ㅤ ara's notesㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ i am happy for this one yayay lmao i mean a bit self indulgent but okay ig ㅤㅤ»ㅤ series mlistㅤ ateez mlist ㅤ main mlist ㅤ naviㅤㅤ𠈔

✸ㅤ taglistㅤㅤ───ㅤㅤ @haneagerr @tunaasan @evidive @huachengsbestie01 @philijack @atiny-lizbeth @chxnnii @nakiiko @therealcuppicake ㅤㅤ»ㅤㅤ comment here or in series mlist to be added or removedㅤㅤ𠈔

© arafilez on tumblr. please don't copy and repost my work as your own ▰▰ ✶

[souryoong]

all mine | pjm (18+)

pairing: ex boyfriend!jimin x reader

word count: 2,356

genre: smut!! (18+ readers only)

summary: your new boyfriend can't make you finish, but your ex boyfriend sure can.

warnings: written sex, porn with a plot, protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms (duh), lots of g spot stimulation lol, somewhat rough sex maybe if you squint, making out, tongue kissing, blonde streaks jimin, jimin is tatted, jimin's chain necklace is dangling in her face, jimin knows her body (!!!).

*please do yourself a favor & listen to that song before or after you read this*

click here to be added to my taglist!

authors note: sooooo um hi! long time no see. I feel like this is my longest streak with no new content (almost 2 months!! wtf) and I can say...I have no excuses lol. life just happens. im an adult its okay.

______________________________________________

“Pick up, please pick up.” You crossed your fingers as your phone was dialing your ex, Park Jimin once again to come over for sex.

You both ended your relationship on good terms, Jimin always had a busy schedule and was sometimes overseas for most of the year. Both of you agreed it was for the best to separate.

However, that didn’t stop either of you from still getting together every so often to fuck.

You were seeing someone new, nothing serious, and neither of you were exclusive.

There was nothing really wrong with the guy, just one thing — he could never make you cum.

You even went as far as faking it, multiple times because in the moment, it just to be done. He never seemed to notice. Then, when Jimin was free, he would quite literally fuck your brains out. It was a good system you had worked out.

When you told Jimin how your new man couldn’t make you finish, it gave him a huge ego boost — as if he needed it. He knew he was good in bed. The way you would writhe underneath him from just his tongue, or the way he would have you almost crying in pleasure.

Now, your new boyfriend was out of town, giving the perfect opportunity for Jimin to come over for the night.

“Hello?” Jimin’s voice finally spoke through the phone, and you felt relieved.

“Hey, Jimin.” You spoke in the sweetest voice you could. “Are you busy tonight?” You twirled a strand of your hair around your finger.

“Ah.” Jimin answered, you could practically hear him smiling. “I think I already know why you’re calling me.”

You blushed to yourself. “Fuck, Jimin. Okay. I need dick, that is why I’m calling you.”

“Where’s your new man?” He cheekily asked you.

“I mean as in good dick.” You spat back to him. “He’s out of town this week, and you know that man can’t make me cum.”

Jimin chuckled. “I know, but I love hearing you say that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You teased him. “You coming over or not? I’m wearing some new panties I want to show you. Hmm. Or maybe none at all.”

“Fuck.” Jimin swore, frustrated. “You know I can’t say no. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

You smirked to yourself. “I’ll be waiting. Bye.”

You changed into a matching baby pink lacy bralette and panty set, the color happened to have always been Jimin’s favorite on you. You quickly threw your fluffy white robe over it and waited for him on the couch in your apartment.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door, and you got up to open it.

Jimin flashed you a smile before walking in, taking his sunglasses off. He looked so incredible he nearly took your breath away. He shut the door behind himself, locking it. Instantly his lips were on yours.

“Jimin.” You breathed out in between kisses. You draped your arms over his shoulders and around his neck, letting him take control.

He hummed in response, deepening the kiss as you felt him slide his tongue into your mouth, making you moan in response.

He pulled away, kissing down your neck and to your bare chest that wasn’t covered with the robe.

“Fuck, Jimin.” You whined, leaning your head back, tangling your fingers in his blonde streaked hair. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” His teeth scraped against your skin, making you jump. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

Once you were in your bedroom, Jimin stripped himself of his hoodie and t shirt. He got to work unbuttoning his jeans as you untied your robe, letting it fall onto the floor below.

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin nearly moaned at the sight of you, especially in his favorite color.

“Mhm.” You smirked. “Wore it just for you.”

Jimin dropped to his knees in front of you, hands all over your thighs, and kissing your stomach, waist, and hips.

You chuckled lightly. “Jimin, that tickles.”

He hummed, grabbing one of your thighs firmly with one hand, and landing a smack to your ass with the other. The sudden contact made you gasp.

“Jimin!”

He stood up, smirking as his fingers graced the lacy material of your lacy bra. “Baby as much as I love how you wore this for me, I’d like it better if it was on the floor.”

Now sitting on the bed with your knees apart, you reached behind your back and unhooking it. Jimin reached and pulled the article of clothing off you, throwing it to the floor.

He tilted your chin up to kiss you again, the kiss being so forceful you almost couldn’t catch your breath.

Jimin pulled away and you nearly gasped for air. His hot breath was on your neck.

“God, look at you, I can’t get enough of you.”

He left open-mouthed kisses on your chest and you softly moaned; knowing where it was leading.

Except, you nearly cried out when his warm mouth was around your left nipple, his tongue swirling around it just how you liked it.

You couldn’t help how you tugged on his hair; your body so sensitive from not being touched like this in so long.

Jimin lifted his head up, smirking at how worked up you were. “What, your man doesn’t do this?” He lightly pinched your right nipple, making you let out a whine.

You leaned your head back, biting your lip. Nobody could get you worked up quite like Jimin could.

“Jimin, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

You pressed your thighs together, aching for his touch. Jimin noticed right away.

He moved his mouth from your left nipple over to your right, giving it equal attention. Your moan came out almost a sob.

“Jimin!”

You leaned back to lay down against your bed sheets, Jimin shifted to now hover over you, his mouth going straight back to your nipple.

“So worked up for me, I could probably make you cum from just this.” He kissed the skin below your right breast, nibbling lightly.

And he wasn’t wrong, he probably could.

“Jimin…” You were practically writhing underneath him.

He sat up slightly, taking in the sight of your body underneath him. He loved seeing you like this, so needy and worked up just for him.

Jimin brushed over your still clothed entrance over your panties with his fingers, making you suppress a moan by biting your lip. You could imagine how wet you were, and probably soaking through your panties.

“Just for me.” Jimin smirked. “Cute.”

He hooked his fingers around either side of your panties, and you lifted your hips for him to pull them off.

Once he did, he threw them to the side somewhere onto the floor.

Jimin moved so now he was in different position, like he was somewhat sitting next to you.

Noticing how his jeans were pulled down slightly and unbuttoned, his length was straining against his boxers. Your mouth practically was salivating.

“Fuck, Jimin.” You swore. “Your cock.” It almost seemed bigger since the last time, but it’s only been a couple weeks.

He didn’t say anything, just hummed. You shifted your upper body, Jimin guided you to open your legs more than they already were. You didn’t even have to wonder if you were wet, it had felt like you’ve been nearly gushing all night long.

You gasped at the contact of his fingers to your soaked entrance. Jimin swore under his breath.

“Fuck. You’re soaked. My fingers will slip right in.”

You let out a rather loud moan when he pushed his middle and ring finger inside of you, pressing against your walls. You almost forgot you had neighbors that could probably hear all of this.

Jimin’s lips crashed against yours as he started finger fucking you with earnest. You cried out against his mouth as he hit your g spot repeatedly. You felt your thighs starting to shake, and your stomach starting to tighten.

Jimin started watching his fingers go in and out of you, as you were practically clutching onto him.

“Jimin. Jimin.” You sounded so desperate saying his name repeatedly.

“Gonna cum for me?” His face was close to yours before he kissed you again.

You bit down on your lip, letting out a moan. “Mmm. Yes. Yes.” You tried to nod.

You felt yourself becoming more wet, then hearing the squelching sound of Jimin’s fingers moving in and out of you.

“Fuck, look at you, clenching my fingers like that.” Jimin moaned.

You were shaking, clutching onto him so hard that you felt like you should be apologizing, but he was pressing so hard against your inner walls that you were about to lose it.

“Jimin. Jimin.” You kept saying his name.

“Mhm. Say my name.” He kissed you, but you couldn’t even kiss him back, your orgasm hit you the hardest it has in a while.

“Jimin. Fuck. Don’t stop.” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling like your whole body was shaking.

“Let it go, I got you.” He buried his face in your neck as you let out a rather loud moan.

You were panting like you just ran 5 miles, not even opening your eyes. The muscles in your thighs felt on fire.

“Jimin, what the fuck?” You managed to breathe out.

“Baby, this is nothing new.” Jimin chuckled. “I think you’ve just been neglected.”

You heard him slide off the bed, and heard his jeans getting taken off and thrown onto the floor.

“Open your eyes, I want you to look at me.”

You swallowed thickly and opened your eyes to see Jimin turned away from you, still in his underwear. You noticed his tattoo of the moon phases down his back, probably your favorite tattoo of his.

“Do you still have those condoms?” Jimin asked you.

Since you and Jimin had been getting together rather frequently, you had stashed a box of condoms at the very bottom of one of your drawers in your dresser. The both of you agreed it was probably a good idea to use condoms since you weren’t a couple anymore.

“Yeah. At the bottom of the drawer like always.” You answered, watching him walk over to the drawer, open it, reach in and grab a foil packet.

“You’re running out.” Jimin joked, smiling as he pulled down his black underwear, revealing his thick cock.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you watched him open the packet and roll the condom on over the tip. “Yeah, I uh guess I’d better get more.”

Jimin climbed on top of the bed, hovering over you. He adjusted some pillows so you would be comfortable.

His necklace was dangling as he was aligning himself with your entrance, teasing you by tapping the tip against your clit, making you whine from the sensitivity still.

“I forgot how pretty you looked underneath me.” Jimin spoke, but before you could respond in any way, you felt him push himself into you, the stretch of his girth feeling divine.

You couldn’t even form words, you just let out a whine. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You felt like you could cum almost instantly at his first few thrusts, it had been so long and right now they were feeling better than ever.

“Mhm.” Jimin licked his lips, leaning down to kiss you.

He pushed your legs further apart, holding them behind your knees. Jimin’s pace changed, and he started thrusting into you slower, but hitting deeper.

You felt him nudge your sweet spot inside of you, making you cry out in pleasure.

“Fuck. Right there!”

He was hitting the spot repeatedly, making you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands grabbing onto him.

“God you’re so fucking wet.” Jimin swore, burying his face in your neck, starting to fuck you harder.

You could feel and hear your bed frame hitting the wall at the force, and Jimin’s hot breath panting onto your neck.

“Jimin, my neighbors.” You slightly laughed, fingers combing through his blonde streaked locks.

His pace faltered as he got up, now hovering over you, his chain necklace dangling. “I don’t care.” Jimin kissed you softly, then you pulled him closer for more, his tongue gliding against yours.

Your jaw mouth fell open at one thrust, and he smirked, knowing you were close.

“Jimin.” Your voice came out needier than you wanted it to. “Fuck I’m so close.”

“I can tell.” Jimin panted. “Fuck, you’re clenching me so good.”

He shifted your body to the side, putting one of your legs over his shoulder.

You couldn’t help but whine at the change of position, hands moving to grip your bed sheets.

“Fuck, Jimin.” You let out a moan when his fingers started to rub your clit simultaneously as he was fucking you. “More.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking for more of, you were torn between fighting off your orgasm to last a little while longer, or to just give into it.

“More?” Jimin seemed taken aback, your cunt still so wet you could hear it. “I’ll give you more.”

His knee pushed your other leg to the side, and he thrusted into you harder than before. Your orgasm hit you practically seconds later, and you could have sworn you blacked out for a moment.

Jimin’s pace barely faltered as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your walls clenching him tightly, and he grabbed a hold of your legs because you were shaking.

He continued fucking into you until his orgasm hit him, and he almost fell on top of you.

Your bodies right up against each other, and you kept repeating his name; it was all that you could say.

“Yes, I’m right here.” Jimin spoke, kissing you softly along your jaw.

“That was. That was.” You couldn’t even say it. “Fuck.” You slightly laughed at your current state.

“Amazing?” Jimin laughed, trying to finish your thoughts.

“Mhm.” You nodded, combing your fingers through Jimin’s hair.

“So, you know he won’t be back for like 3 days or something like that.” You spoke. “We can do this again.”

Jimin smirked, knowing fully well that you would be.

______________________________________________

taglist: @dearlyjoonie @thepurpleghost

[jerzwriter]

Highways & Byways Part 2: Tobias & Casey

Book: Open Heart (Book 3 Timeline)

Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey MacTavish)

Rating: Mature

Words: 1,594

Summary: A highway worker hit the lottery and walked off the job, changing all highway road signs before he did. Do not touch your partner's private part while he/she is driving! Tobias & Casey heading out of Boston to head to his college reunion in DC for the weekend. Tobias never saw the sign, but Casey did... 😉

A/N: I saw this photo, and I immediately thought of my two pairings and how they would react in this situation. I was debating which one I would write about, and I decided, screw it, I can do both. In fact, the comparison could be fun. This is totally silly and for fun. I hope you enjoy it! Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge | Holding hands (and other things....)

It was only a little after 3:00 PM, but in Boston, it was already meant rush hour, and Tobias Carrick hated driving during rush hour. He would be in a foul mood if this were a typical day. There would be honking, sighs of frustration, and an occasional curse when a driver didn’t understand the meaning of staying in lane. But today was not a typical day.

Tobias bolted out of Kenmore just a few hours before, elated that the fluorescent lighting in the halls wouldn’t be part of his reality for the next four days. No, those days would be filled with revelry, catching up with old friends, and, most importantly, he would do it with Casey on his arm. It didn’t get better than this. 

His phone rang. After ensuring it was someone who wouldn’t lower his mood, he a button on the steering wheel to answer. 

“Bobby Dee!” Tobias shouted with as much enthusiasm as if they were standing in the same room. “How’s it going, my man?”

“It’s going good, going good! You already on the road?”

“I sure am! Hoping to arrive in DC somewhere around eleven.”

“Good! Then you might be early enough to join us. We’re all going to meet up at the hotel bar; we should still be there at eleven.”

“As excited as I am to see all of you, I’m going to have to take a pass. Casey and I are leaving right from our shifts, and we’ll probably need a little shut-eye after the trip. But don’t worry, we’ll see you bright and early at brunch.” 

A low chuckle came from the other end of the call, and Tobias’s lips twisted in anticipation.

“Go ahead,” he insisted. “Get it out of your system.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing….” Bobby laughed. “It’s all good, T… just… how times are changing! You have no idea how excited Tiana was when I told her that the Tobias Carrick was bringing someone to the reunion. Damn near had to get out the smelling salts to revive her.”

“Laugh all you want,” Tobias egged good-naturedly, “but when you meet Casey, you’ll understand. There was no reason to settle down until I met her. She is truly my other half.”  

“Well, as much as I think she’s got to be out of her goddamned mind for being with you, I can’t wait to meet her. She has to be someone pretty special to lasso you in.”

“She’s beyond special. Now tell Tiana to go easy on her. I don’t want all you jackasses frightening  her off.”

“Hey, no promises. But if you haven’t scared her off, I doubt we will.”

“Good point!” Tobias agreed. “Look, I’m coming up to her place now, but I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Same here; it’s been too long.”

Casey had been sitting on the steps, anxiously awaiting his arrival. She jumped up with her bag the moment she caught a glimpse of his car and wasted no time jumping into the passenger’s seat.  

“Hello, gorgeous!” he beamed as she entered. But anything else he wanted to say was cut off when her lips met his with a searing kiss.

“Mmph, hey!” He chuckled, playfully pushing her away. “Keep that up, and we won’t be headed to my reunion. We’ll be spending the weekend holed up at my place.”

With a coquettish grin, she looped her arms around his neck. “Would that be the worst thing?”

“Absolutely not, but I am kind of excited about showing off my girl.”

“Mmm,” she hummed. She slid back into her seat and adjusted her seatbelt. “How many reunions have you been to since you graduated from Howard?”

“We have one every year… and I’ve missed one or two, but outside of that, I’ve been to them all.”

“Mmm-hmm. OK you missed two years, so I’m date number what… nine, ten, eleven?”

He turned to her with a sarcastic smirk. “You really want to know?”

“Yep,” she teased. “Forewarned is forearmed.”

“You’re number one. I’ve never brought anyone with me.”

“Never?”

“Never.”

Now it was Casey’s turn for a smart-alec stare. “Figured you’d just pick up there, huh?”

Tobias's eyes went wide. “Wait… I didn’t… that’s not… shut up!” he fumbled. 

Casey couldn’t stop laughing. Rendering him speechless was one of her favorite hobbies.

“You know, that kind of sucks for me, though.  I figured I was the latest in a succession, but wow… now the pressure is real.”

“There’s no pressure,” he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over it. “There will be some ribbing, I’m sure, but don’t worry, it will be directed at me.  Everyone is dying to meet you

“Well, I hope no one is disappointed,” she said, a note of worry in her voice.

“How on earth could they be?”  

~~~~~

Many hours, one stop for dinner and two restroom breaks later, Casey pulled out her phone.

“What’s the ETA now?” he asked.

“According to GPS, we should be there in two and a half hours.”

“Good timing!” He nodded. “Maybe we can pop in that mixer for a quick hello after all.”

“If you want to.”

“Hell yeah! I want to start showing you off early.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Casey laughed as she began scrolling through her phone. “Oh my, God!” she chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Some highway worker in New Jersey hit the lottery but went back to work for one more day just to mess around with things. Before he left, he changed all the emergency signs on the Turnpike to read very… different… messages.”

“Classic! What did they say?”

“One read, ‘Some asshole texting on his cell phone got creamed here.’”

“Harsh, but possibly effective.”

“Another said, ‘Accident ahead! That’s what we get for letting New Yorkers drive in Jersey.”

“OK, that’s pretty good,” he chuckled. “What else?”

“This one said,” Casey stopped reading and snorted.

“OK, I need to know!” Tobias insisted.

“Hmm, I’m going to refrain from telling you this one because if the NSA is listening, I want plausible deniability.”

“Case… you’re losing me.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” she grinned. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Tobias may have forgotten about the topic, but Casey never did.  She waited patiently until they passed the next toll booth and made sure no cars were right around them. Then, with a deftness Tobias would later commend, she reached over, undid the top button of his pants, and slipped her hand under his briefs.

For a brief second, he was rendered speechless, but the tantalizing sensation of her fingers toying with the family jewels brought him back to reality.

“Casey, what are you doing?” he asked without flinching.

“Right now? I’m playing with your balls, Tobias.  I’ll be moving on to your penis momentarily,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“I know that,” he began to chuckle, but it turned into a soft groan as Casey made good on her promise and began stroking, arousing him in an instant. “but why…” he managed to get out.

“I need a reason? I mean, if you don’t like it… I’ll stop,” she started pulling her hand away.

With one hand remaining firmly on the wheel, Tobias used his other to keep Casey’s firmly in place.

“Don’t you dare,” he smiled. “I was just wondering what brought this on.”

“That guy in Jersey.  One of his signs said not to touch your partner's privates while they’re driving.”

“What a stupid fucking man,” Tobias chuckled. “Although I’m not sure everyone can handle it; he may have a point.”

“You have a point,” Casey giggled, caressing the head of his erection.

“Thanks to you,” he replied, followed by a shuddering breath.

Casey bit her lower lip, filled with delight as she watched his body tense when she picked up the pace.

“As long as this doesn’t get us killed. I kind of like this,” she beamed. “We can cross me giving you a handjob while driving off our bucket list.”

“Yes, we can,” he managed to say, his voice becoming tense.  

Casey’s eyes were fixed on Tobias, partly because she found his reactions so enticing, partly because she wanted to ensure his eyes were still on the road.  She was so fixated she didn’t realize he had pulled into a rest stop on the side of the road.

“Tobias, what are you doing?” she asked as he threw the car into park.

With slick precision, Tobias reclined his seat and jumped into the back seat; he took Casey by the arm and pulled her back with him. 

“Tobias!” She giggled as he pulled her into a kiss. 

His fingers hungrily grabbed at her hair, and he pulled her so close there was no space between them. Her handiwork was now pressing against her lower stomach.  His kiss was furious, stoking a flame she wasn’t sure they could ignite in such a confined, public place.  But as she felt Tobias pushing down her jeans, she realized… they were sure going to try.  

“What are you doing?” she chuckled.

“Finishing what you started,” he hissed.

With her pants now at his feet, she let out a whimper as he began nibbling on her ear. 

“It’ll delay the trip…” she whispered through little pants. “We might miss the mixer….”

“Not that I care,” he groaned, “but it’s all your fault.  Such a bad girl, disobeying important safety signs!”

“Mmmmhhh,” she growled beneath him.  “I thought you liked when I was a bad girl.”

“I do,” he smiled, “but keep it up, and we damn well may miss brunch too.”

“Thank God for your tinted windows,” she giggled… and the rest is to be left to the imagination. 😏

Perma: @a-crepusculo @animesuck3r @annoyingmillenialnewbie @crazy-loca-blog @different4strawberry @doriopenheart @fayeswiftie @gryffindordaughterofathena @genevievemd @liaromancewriter @lucy-268 @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @sophxwithers

OH All: @alwaysmychoices @annfg8 @binny1985 @coffeeheartaddict2 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @peonierose @youlookappropriate

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90 @kyra75

[bunji-enthusiast]

don’t know if ur open rn but can I request a scenario or some headcanons of a fem s/o cuddling with Mortlach? :’3

HEYOOO! Here you go, sorry for the dissapointment. I'm not as inspired as I like to be, or otherwise there'd be more here.

Some days are rough and hardy, one would know following the dangers of a life of a chaos knight. One always have to prepared and ready in case of the eventual circumstance known as death, this hardly ever rang untrue in Mortlach's case. When you serve someone like King Arthur, it can be difficult, sometimes causing bouts of self-doubt and reflection on your life over the years.

Whatever it takes, no doubt. Mortlach wanted it to be simply done and over with sometimes, so he was eventually frustrated with everything, and even with himself; hypocritical, hypothetical. Just a system of catastrophe and more to see.

"Mortlach, my love." His daydreams are evidently snapped into two, bringing gaze to be graced with such a beautiful sight. Chaotic nonetheless in the land of false Camelot, he shan't dare utter the name to not be smited by the king. The man was far wiser, wiser then others would give him credit.

He sighed, tilting his head into the good graces of your holy touch. Feeling the reverence in which he could feel at peace in such a simple action, "I'm sorry, did I worry you?"

"Kind of." You said with a grin, almost with a bout of nonchalance he detected. Mortlach only nodded his head, deciding to ignore it. It was only in you, that he could understand everything and nothing all at once, not like with his line of work -- in order to better serve both you, and King Arthur.

He would always do whatever it takes, to ensure you are safe and protected. To protect his nephew, and everything he held dear. Even at the cost of his own life.

You sigh, raising your head almost as you let out a small chuckle. Lifting his hand, and he most likely complied with. You pressed a small kiss, revering the scars which descecreted the valley of knuckles of which he was bestowed with.

Hard and rough, oh so battle-worn: quite in a literal sense. Depending on the severity of his orders given, you can never tell to which how well he will be every time he comes back from leave.

"Your so worrisome sometimes, you know?" You comment, almost flimsy in your hold as you pressed another kiss, on a different spot now. And almost, you could swear, that your lover Mortlach's cheeks burned for a brief moment. Transitory perhaps, just like a ghost passing by.

He raises a questioning brow, sitting up and bringing you along with his level. You let out a small laugh at this action of his, somewhat of a whine at the loss of warmth.

"I promise you, with all my heart." You widen your eyes in surprise, almost put off by this change of demeanor in contrast to the calm and composed one he usually presents.

"That I will protect both you, and Diodora for as long as I breathe..."

"And give you the life you deserve."

[sleepingdeath-bboys]

dinner with friends ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous

pairing ; chris pitt-goddard x female!reader

tag list ; @jamiewintons | @pink-booty-butts

word count ; 1307

warnings ; author has only seen one episode of spy and wrote this on holiday so dialogue will likely be shaky and/or ooc (may rewrite when i get back home haha), dirty talk, vaginal fingering, unaware viewer tim, dom!chris, public sex acts

read also on ; ao3 | wattpad

“… I mean honestly! Can you believe he said that to me?” Tim complained, scowling and throwing his hands outwards in an exaggerated gesture to punctuate his frustrations. A little lost, you just nodded and brought the next bite of your meal to your lips, not paying your boyfriend much mind as he hummed along with whatever his friend was saying.

“He sounds like a prat, mate.”

“Right?”

You smiled at their dynamic, only to choke on your food when you felt Chris’ hand on your knee. His eyes never strayed from the man across from him as he started to toy with the lightly fraying hem of your dress (the only fancy one you owned), wandering fingertips tracing their way higher and higher at a snail’s pace — light enough to have you questioning his intentions but present enough to have heat flooding your cheeks.

Though whatever questions you had were dismissed before they even passed your lips as he continued to casually engage Tim in his rant.

“Honestly if he wasn’t my boss…”

“He wouldn’t be able to talk to you like that if -”

“Please don’t do this in here,” Tim almost begged, his words causing Chris to roll his eyes.

“There’s nothing wrong with discussing the flaws in the system we were forced to live in!” He insisted in return, huffing somewhat as he regarded his friend with his tone dripping with a sort of unspoken challenge that you’d only ever heard from him. The familiarity of it all made you smile to yourself as you took another sip of your drink, almost — almost — forgetting what he’d been doing to you beneath the table.

Though that endearment was soon sent crashing down when you felt him roughly grope the meat of your thigh. Shamelessly pinching and grabbing at you beneath the table as you hid your shock with a far larger gulp of alcohol than you’d initially intended to take. Swallowing a cough and trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy in front of your oblivious company — and glaring at your smirking boyfriend out of the corner of your eye.

“It’s not like we can change anything, so there’s literally no point in complaining,” Tim continued, painfully unaware of your plight as he reached for his second glass of alcohol, “it’s an exercise in pointlessness at best,”

“Or a reasonable commentary on social issues most people are oblivious to?” Chris sighed, fingertips delicately brushing along the length of your clothed slit, his actions almost contemplative as he crafted and considered the rest of his response.

“And it’s not as if we can’t change anything; we just need to be willing to be a bit… bolder,”

Two long fingers suddenly slid into your soaked pussy, unashamedly pleasuring you without so much as bothering to move your underwear aside. Straight to the point; how very typical of your Chris. Yet, still, the sudden intrusion had your knee slamming up against the table and you biting down harshly on the inside of your cheek to stop any sounds from escaping you. Painful, yes, but more than necessary as you meekly explained away your behaviour as a muscle spasm — which was met with empathy from Tim and a knowing chuckle from your boyfriend.

God you wanted to kill him sometimes.

But you couldn’t focus on two things at once, not when he started to rub your clit through your now drenched panties. Not when the friction was so deliciously palpable and you had to fight against every instinct you had not to keen and buck into his hand — to not give him the satisfaction.

Especially when he was adding filthy non-sequiturs and shifting the topic of conversation to get under your skin. Using Tim’s casual demeanour and conversationalist nature against him and you.

“It was so fucking wet yesterday,” he began, timing his statement with a particularly sudden crooking of his fingers, “by the time we got home we were completely soaking,”

“You should’ve brought an umbrella with you,” Tim answered nonchalantly, shrugging as he spoke through a mouthful of steak, “I did warn you about the forecast before you went out — nobody to blame but yourself at that point,”

“Oh I was fine,” Chris laughed, gesturing to you with a tilt of the head, “she was the one who got the most of it; drenched through her clothes by the time we got back. But it was definitely my fault,”

Your face was practically on fire at this point, but you did your best to maintain that facade of neutrality. Smiling over the rim of your glass that you held with a trembling hand, laughing in an almost forced manner that your friend seemingly mistook as something else.

“You didn’t share your umbrella with your girlfriend?” Tim asked, almost scandalised on your behalf, looking to you apologetically, “You should’ve stolen his; every man for himself, right Chris?”

He suddenly pulled out and, without giving you time to mourn the feeling, harshly shoved your panties to one side and plunged those same two fingers back into your gushing cunt. Scissoring, crooking, fingering and all in moments — making your head spin and your vision blur — yet still up keeping that same calm and cocky facade as he engaged your companion.

“She wouldn’t have won that fight; I’m very good with my hands,” he began to rub circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb, “but if she’d have been a good girl I might have given her what she wanted,”

Tim stared disapprovingly from across the table and moved to grab his wallet.

“Well there was no need for that — unless you want to get your girlfriend sick. Which is mean, by the way.”

“I’m not mean,” he responded coolly, turning his head to make eye contact with you as he continued, “I’m actually pretty generous, right honey?”

Unable to do much speaking at this point, you just hummed your agreement before offering a strained smile when Tim went off looking for the waitress that had served you. Then, with your hands digging into the plush seating on either side of your legs, you turned to address your boyfriend with a look of muted frustration on your face. Wordlessly willing him to continue and stop all at once.

But Chris, being Chris, offered you no explanation or consolidation. Instead he reached over and pulled you onto his lap, working you harder with the hand between your legs whilst groping your breasts through your dress with the other. All the while uttering the purest filth into your ear — so close that you could feel the smirk on his lips when he spoke — in a voice that was so quiet and low that it, in combination with his ceaseless ministrations, had you squirting all over his fingers.

“You’re such a dirty slut for me,”

“You were already soaked before I started; are you that desperate for me?”

“That perfect little pussy is always ready for me, isn’t she?”

“I bet you’d let me fuck you right here, where everyone can see how much you want me,”

“Did you want me to make you cum in front of Tim? To let him see how much of a good girl you are to me? Is that it?”

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re angry,”

“God I can’t wait to fuck you stupid when we get home,”

The words compounded and compounded until finally you snapped. Vision turning snowy, senses overwhelmed with static, tongue and lips bleeding from the force of your need to stay quiet, thighs and cunt covered in your release and your mind filled with thoughts of him and him alone. Of being his slut, of letting him fuck you in front of everyone, of his voice, his hands, his mouth and his cock.

God you couldn’t wait to get home.

[yurivanovich]

Truths are different. We tell one truth, and are afraid of another.

(Servant of the People S01E01 | S0E23) 

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Live In Nanny Pt 2

Villain!All Might x Reader

All Might raising baby Deku but is in desperate need of a nanny (Pt 2). The morning after and basically wayyyy to long so the smut is gonna have to be in pt 3. (word count: a little over 2k)

pt 1 here

TW: Yandere themes, day after dub con, reader is held against their will

You were sore. Your hips, wrists, back, pussy, everything ached. A silky sheet was the only thing covering your bare form. You could feel that you were alone in bed, Toshi's bulkiness was no longer weighing down the mattress. It must be mid morning because light was streaming through the curtains. Maybe if you remained still you could absorb into the mattress. Not only because of your tender body, but because you would prefer to never see your boss again. But speak of the devil. "Are we staying in bed all day?" You groaned. Hating how he worded his question. We. It was condescending, patronizing, and somehow filled you with butterflies. Something was placed on the bed, definitely not heavy enough to be Toshi. And then you realized, not something but a tiny someone. Baby Izuku crawled over to you, babbling, and tapped your sore shoulder. "Morning, Zuzu," You mumbled. Your joints crackled to life and you tightened the covers so you could face the little one. Behind him the clock read 11:00 am. "I need to get dressed." The villain cocked his head, "I tossed your clothes in the laundry do you want me to go get something from your closet?" No, you didn't want him running through your belongings. He would probably make a mess. "Just give me one of your shirts." That provided you enough modesty to get to your room and you were surprised the menace didn't follow. You scrubbed your body raw under the shower, subconsciously punishing yourself for taking pleasure from the night before. You were frustrated. Clean and covered in giant sweat pants and a hoodie you stormed into the living room where Toshi sat watching izuku entertain himself. "I quit." There was a pause. You tried not to look at the child. He would sway your resolve. This didn't have anything to do with him, it was between you and his father. "Alright." Oh. He wasn't going to challenge you? Figures, the man got what he wanted from you. You turned on your heels and rushed back to your room. You didn't own much so it wasn't hard to shove your belongings back into the suitcase. Opening your bedside drawer you froze. Your keys and phone were missing. This was their spot. The dedicated key-and-phone drawer. You check the room once, twice, then Izuku's room, the playroom, the kitchen. "Where are my keys?" You hissed, to hell with the phone you could buy a replacement. "Why would you need those," His voice was taunting. You felt your fists ball up and your nails dug into your palms. You stomped your foot like a frustrated child. "Because I'm leaving, I quit, now give me my keys." "I agreed you can quit, if that's what makes you feel better. I didn't say anything about leaving." The tension could be cut with a knife. He wasn't speaking or moving, he was eerily looming. In the other room Izuku was getting fussy. It knotted your stomach not going to check on him, but you kept your eyes on the villain. Toshinori was the first one to move, he went to check on his son. Clearly you weren't a threat. You could do without the keys, even sacrifice your suitcase. You made it all the way to the front door where you expected him to be, but he wasn't. He was with Izuku. With a twist at the knob the door didn't budge. You tried once more before angrily shaking the door. All Might called for you, "I told you that you aren't leaving. It's a two way security system but feel free to keep trying." When did he install this? You didn't see anything obvious like a box or camera indicating a security system. You could've thrown a fit or tried to break open the window but you had a feeling you wouldn't make it far. "What are you getting at?" You asked, rejoining the father-son duo. "Nothing aside from what we discussed last night in bed," he was making your cheeks burn red. "Making sure we stay a happy family." By the tone of his voice you knew there was no room for discussion. He didn't chastise you for slamming the door your room. He didn't pester you through out the day. He didn't even open your door to tell you he made dinner. He came by later to tell you (through the door) that he left you a plate in case you get hungry. By midnight you were. You tip toed down the hall, peeking into to the nursery to see Izuku fast asleep. You scarfed down the food before crawling back to bed. --- The next day you shuffled out of bed and into Izuku's room where you picked up the quiet but awake baby. You were gentle as you combed through his green curls with your fingers. He was still warm the way babies gets when they sleep. Holding him soothed you. Toshi melted when he saw you two curled up on the couch. He didn't want to ruin the mood so he stayed out of your line of sight for a few more minutes. Finally he entered the threshold of the room, "I'm heading out for the day but I won't be out late." You could've ignored him, but Izuku's grubbing hands were grabbing for his daddy. You had been defeated by the toddler. You weren't a monster. You moved toward your now ex-employer so he could tell his son goodbye. Goodbye before he goes off to commit atrocities. Toshi kissed the child’s chubby cheeks without removing him from your arms. He was too close for comfort. You took an awkward half step back before his huge hand caught your hair. With a tug, your chin jutted forward and he pressed his lips to yours. "Zuku, keep an eye on mommy," Chuckling as he stepped out the front door. Your mind was fuzzy for a moment before looked down at the boy on your hip who was giggling and clapping his hands together. --- The jovial villain was focused at work. He was on edge, quiet and irritable. Eager to return home and help you with his son. All Might wasn't delusional — well at least not entirely. He anticipated that this would be a rough time for you, but you were a good girl, you would adjust.

When he placed that ad to scout for someone to watch Izuku he didn't plan for this. But you were so perfect. He ached for you in a way he never hurt before. Had you been anyone else he would've killed you when you found out his villainous ways. But no, he could never bring himself to harm you. God, you even took the news in stride. Yeah, you weren't thrilled and may have walked out of their lives if he hadn't stopped you; but you weren't trashing his house or treating Izuku any differently.

And you were so pretty underneath him, whimpering while you took his length, your nails digging into the man's shoulders when he released into you. You slept like a rock afterwards, rolling unconsciously into him. Your body sought his comfort, knowing you were safe with him. He just needed to give you time to adjust.

--- It didn't take long for you to stop leaving the room any time he entered. And soon you were back to your normal routine of caring for the child and keeping up with the house. You resumed playing around with Izuku and began reading a ton of books to the boy. You told Toshi that Izuku could even pick which books he wanted you to read. It was nice that you were talking to him again, sometimes making jabs at his life choices and always kept a distance between yourself and him. Izuku was becoming quite the talker, well the babbler because he hasn't said his first word yet. He was figuring it out though. He knew he could say 'Ap-ap' for apple or to get picked up. You were sure he would say his first word any day. --- The three of you were in the living room when it happened. Izuku was watching some baby show, the first "lesson" was colors and the little one did his best to make nonsensical noises. The next subject was family members. Siblings, sister, brother. Parents. Mom, mommy, mama. Dad, daddy, papa. Grandma, grandpa. Aunt, auntie. Uncle. Over and over again until the show was done. Toshi looked at the izuku who was wearing the face of a thinker. He looked at his dad, the little one was trying to get something of importance out. You both cheered for him once he finally got out the word "papa." It was cute to see the man beam with pride, even though he was a villain. The butterflies were breaking out of their cocoons again. --- Toshi didn't get much alone time with his son and he liked it that way. That meant you were with them. But when he did get time with son he worked on teaching the boy that you were the mommy. Mama. And Izuku would try to repeat but hadn’t quite got it. --- You were struggling to maintain your composure in between watching the news and cooking dinner. All Might was robbing a bank. There were hostages. You recognized the location immediately as a bank you passed almost daily before working for Toshinori. Did you know anyone inside? A small part of you worried for the man, probably because you were thinking of him as Izuku's father rather than a villain. You shut the TV off when you heard Izuku start to wake from his nap.

That night you couldn't help but notice a slice on his arm; it was superficial, not even bleeding but enough to draw out the question: Why do you do it? It's easy, he shrugged. All Might never initiated an attack unprovoked nor directed his actions towards helpless civilians. He stole, dabbled in the black market, and made sure everyone knew not to mess with him or anyone in his circle.

You just couldn't understand. When Zuku gets older he will ask questions. All little boys idolize their dads. What if someone tried to hurt the boy? 

The two of you were whisper yelling with each other. You more so than Toshi but he was still running low on patience; it had been a long day, after all. Izuku was picking up on the changing atmosphere, watching you both through furrowed brows, the quiver in his lip worsening. You stopped when you heard the whimpering begin. He was a sensitive child. Maybe you just needed to sleep. Toshi picked up the baby, bouncing Zuku in the way that always prevented tantrums and wails. He kept babbling and you could tell he was doing his best not to cry. You started to head towards your room when a cry broke out for 'mama.' This time it wasn't Toshi “putting you in your place”. This time it was Izuku.

"It's okay, Zuzu," Toshi soothed. "Mommy just needs a minute."

The crushing realization of just how trapped you were knocked the wind out of you. You couldn't leave the house. Toshi was always being too kind and patient. Somehow he managed to teach Izuku that you were his mommy. The most infamous villain had ensnared you and no matter what he wasn’t letting go. You would never be able to convince him to leave you alone and you'd never be able to leave Izuku.

You were tired of stubbornly holding out. Pathetic tears cascaded down your face, gentle and oddly relieving. Izuku practically leapt into your arms. The tot clung to you and his crying calmed down. you turned away, not able to look at the man.

"Are you going to think the worst of me forever?" Toshinori whispered. Maybe? Probably not. It was hard to tell. You didn't want to.

He continued, "I'm a good father, I would never let anyone hurt Izuku. Or you. Sure I don't have a lot of redeeming qualities but there are some."

You were tired of being stuck inside. It wasn't good for Izuku either. You wouldn't admit it but you weren't so sure you would abandon them even if given the chance. You were tired of trying to hate the man behind you. Tired of pretending you didn't fantasize about that night when you were alone in bed. Toshi moved right behind you and you relaxed against his huge chest. He was surprised and hesitant to move in case he frightened you to your senses. He couldn't just stand there though, that would be weird. Two thick arms wrapped around waist. "Tomorrow I wanna take Izuku to the park," You whispered. Toshi was equally defeated.

"Okay."

---

After putting Izuku to bed you made your way down the hall. The shower in Toshinori's bathroom was running. That was fine. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts. If this was going to work without you feeling like a hostage he was going to have to be open to loosing the reigns. 

He was surprised to see you in his room when he exited the bathroom in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants. 

"More fighting?" He cocked an eyebrow. 

You shook your head, "I hate All Might, just as much as I hate every other villain. But when you come home I don't see All Might, I just see Toshinori, Izuku's dad. That's the man I care about and no matter how much I fight it I can't stop caring."

It was hard to keep eye contact with him but you continued, "I want to be with you and Izuku, not with All Might. And I want to be here on my own accord. I want to be able to go out with Izuku and with you. Can't we just try that?" 

You didn't come in here to berate him again? Or to demand to leave? His heart softened as he realized that the person he wanted, wanted him back. You were willing to remain in their lives. 

"I can try that." 

Toshi trained his eyes on your body, fighting every instinct to close the space between. But you moved first, gingerly placing your hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you straddled his lap.

"Can I sleep in here tonight? I want you to hold me," You whispered.

He nodded and rested his forehead against the crook of your neck. "Is that all you want from me tonight?"

[prettyboykatsuki]

when you start writing for ushijima >>>>>>>>>>>>>

can you tell im begging?

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

inevitable | u. wakatoshi

➳ tags ;; fluff n smut, getting together, first times together, unprotected sex, intentional lower case 18+

➳ wc ;; 1.9k (WHAT THE FUCK)

➳ a/n ;; ask n u shall recieve (i had rlly bad brainrot tn actually)

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

if you had to describe ushijima wakatoshi in one word, you think the word you would chose is inevitable.

in·ev·i·ta·ble | /inˈevidəb(ə)l/ adjective certain to happen; unavoidable

of all the ways you could describe a person, it's probably not the best word. you could think of a laundry list of other ones to describe - really. hard-working, dependable, strong-willed, mindful, cautious. he's a lot of things and you think that's why he's so good at what he does. he's powerful but he he's brilliant at where he uses that power.

you would also use words like that to describe him, if you had too. if you had to give someone the run-down of wakatoshi - you could probably give them a whole speech about his accolades. he's probably the kindest person you know and he does that mostly on accident. he helps little old ladies carry groceries and lets your niece climb his arms like monkey bars with the most plain look on his face.

he's a lot of things - funny on accident, charming on purpose. but of all the things he is - to you, the thing he is most, is inevitable.

it's not hard for you to admit that you weren't exactly.. welcoming to ushijima when you first met him. you were a barista and he was well.. a big, pro-athlete who came to buy straight dark coffee every morning. after his work-outs (or what you figured was workouts since he always looked pretty sweaty) he bought himself precisely one pastry and a bottle of water and went about his day.

and it went like that for months. obviously you found him handsome - the way you could basically autopilot your shifts but completely broke down when he was there was evidence of that. he was tall, broad, handsome and nice. the kind of man who meets your grandmother, you think.

he always asked about you and you gave him short answers. too nervous to elaborate but he made you anyways, somehow and some way. and he comes back to you every week with details of your life you'd only mention in passing. he'd chuckle - a soft little smile at the way your eyes went wide. for someone so dense, he wasn't all that out of touch when it came to you. one morning your hands trembling just a little more than normal when you hand him back his change

(he tells you later he paid in cash just to see you stumble)

and he asks you with a plain look. observant.

"do i make you nervous?"

that's when you knew, really. you stood no chance against the all-consuming force that was and is ushijima wakatoshi. the subtlety and nuance in all of his actions left you worse for wear and any suspicions you had about how he might be treating you were to be confirmed much later down that line.

he's dense in the same way avocadoes are fruit. it's true, technically - but in a lot of ways and functionally it's just not the same. you think that the better word to use for him is selectively intelligent - like he doesn't bother thinking about anything that doesn't interest him for more than two minutes. but on the rare occasion it does interest him, i.e how you interest him - he becomes some kind of expert.

you've always been a little stubborn when it came to love. heartbreak does that to you - and you were overly cautious with ushijima. you let your heart walk on eggshells. you didn't let his gestures or touches or glances mean anything to you. you didn't let yourself be swayed by the smell of his cologne - sweet and woodsy on the back of your throat. not by the way he placed his hand on your lower back to walk past you on days off.

and when he took you out, to see the movies and stargaze, you told yourself it isn't a date. you tried your best really. because there is something really unbelievable about ushijima wakatoshi liking you - beyond the fact that he's some pro-athlete.

there's something about him that's a little unreal. not that he's perfect, but that all of his flaws make him more attractive. it almost bothers you but he doesn't seem to understand when you give him those lengthy explanations. hands making all types of gestures, flustered as he smiles. he doesn't take anything from your little lecture that day, just gives you a once over as he drives you home.

"oh, so you find me attractive?"

you didn't stand a chance. he was, and is, inevitable. everything about him has this powerful but subtlety all-consuming nature to him. you think the best way to think of it is like letting yourself float. the way you release the weigh in your body and inevitable give into letting it hold you. even if waves came - you'd probably stay in that state.

ushijima is like that. a constant presence and overwhelming force. you get swayed without even thinking. he could probably become president, if he really wanted. lucky for everyone else, he just wants to play volleyball. you think that it's a shame in equal parts that it's a gift but you digress.

the point is that you could never really be away from ushijima. and as hard as you tried to avoid the growing affection - you find that ushijima is always a few steps ahead. always reaching far beyond you with big, strong hands.

you try so hard, to avoid the inevitable. you do it with your whole soul. you're honestly just.. intimated. you've never felt something like him before - not once in your whole life. you're afraid of what'll happen when you succumb to the waves so you dodge the deep sea for weeks and weeks.

he found you after your shift one day after 3 weeks of dry texting and avoided phone calls. wearing a suit and a purple shirt and a nice watch, he has flowers too. and you're in.. a barista uniform with tousled everything and smudged mascara.

inevitable is really the only word. as you stop dead in your tracks, and as ushijima pulls you aside with the mostly gentlemanly smile. you kind of wanna cry when you look at him.

"i've waited a long time but i don't think i can much longer,"― he shifts a little. he almost looks nervous - it's the first time you've ever seen him look anything but overwhelmingly confident ― "i like you and i'd like to be with you,"

he doesn't really offer you much other than a confession and his hands. the frustrating thing is that he doesn't need to. it's the first time he's seen you cry but he handles you well, does it easily like he does everything else. like somehow he's just good at it, soothes you while you sob into his chest and melt into his presence and let yourself fall underwater.

in a probably not so surprising turn of events, you find that ushijima fucks with the same approach that he does most other things.

with careful consideration that seems effortlessly. it makes you feel a little hopeless that he feels good at everything. even at comforting you.

the first time you have sex, you take off his shirt for him. and he takes your hand and puts it up to his chest. gives you the most gentle look. his heart-beat is rapid.

"you make me .. nervous too. just so you know,"

the one thing about ushijima is that everything about him is big and wide and broad. he kisses you like he's trying to circle the solar system - there's a slowness to it. a vastness as he has you seated in his lap with his hands exploring up your body. his hands are everywhere. he's good with them. not too gentle but not too rough as the spread your thighs open.

he cups your pussy and it fits in his whole palm. his middle finger teases your slit as his kisses travel south, down your jaw and onto your neck. they latch onto your chest with a little breathless sigh - like he can't even breathe. it makes you clench when he talks to you - raspy.

"you're.... beautiful,"

he makes you shy. so shy as you lean forward a little and rock into his hand - a burning need nipping at you. and his eyes widen and his cock stiffens and his breath hitches and you think this is the first time you've caught him off-guard before. you wanna bask in it but you're too desperately so you latch onto his lips again.

ushijima does everything right. with knowledge in it. he kisses you and sucks on your tits and plays with your clit with this.. knowing. he likes seeing you fall apart he thinks. he likes how you get when he takes it much slower than he needs too - how he drags you through one orgasm to another with this lithe. he lets you lean over his shoulder when he fingers you - and his two fingers stretch you out like four of your own.

his cock is big. bigger than you think any person could ever take. you stare at it for a long while, gaping at it. your hands barely fit around it and that image burns itself into ushijimas brain like a permanent memory. your mouth falls open and your eyes look hazy and ushijima thinks that he's never wanted to be inside of something so bad before.

"it's so big," ― you whisper, hoarse ― "i-it won't fit,"

"i'll make it fit," ― is his only reply, kissing the crown of your head ― "sit tight,"

he does, by the way. make it fit. he makes it fit good - makes it stretch your pussy out but you don't feel like you'll break. there's a little pressure inside, and your clit swells with desire and blood - but it fits. and his eyes are glued to the way your cute little cunt seems to be swallowing him like it's nothing. it's enough to make him lose his mind.

"c-can i move?"

you nod and he does. slow at first. he draws the noise from you - a slow and soft moan leaving your lips as he drags his cock in and out of you. but it gets faster, goes much faster than you thought it could.

eventually he has you bouncing in his lap, on his cock, with such force that you feel like you can't breathe. it feels unbelievable, sets off a supernova in your gut like at any moment you could come undone. you feel like you're breaking and ushijima doesn't help, soft grunts and whispered affections.

"you're so beautiful," and "im so happy" that make you feel dizzy. you'd probably give him anything he asks for. he bounces you on his cock and lets his thumb just rest on your clit and you're so close you can almost taste it.

"cum for me," ― like he's begging ― "please,"

what choice do you have anyways? you cum on his cock with a silent scream, like your voice is tearing a blackhole into space and you shudder while he holds you in place. he finishes only seconds afterwards.

"did it feel good?"

you give him a wide-eyed look. he's dense at times. you don't know how to hate him for it so you just sigh and nod, cozying to him.

"y..yeah,"

he kisses your forehead, sweaty and tired.

"good,"

yeah. you were right.

you never had a single chance of winning against him.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

[redrobin-detective]

love language

“Ben,” the voice said softly, “wake up.” It was familiar in a way Ben couldn’t put his finger on. 

“No, mom,” Ben groaned, “five more minutes.”

“Not Mother,” the voice said with an amused huff. “Been longer than five minutes, worried now,” it continued on awkwardly. Ben frowned, confused by the situation. He opened his eyes and sat up to assess what was going on. At least that was what he tried to do.

“Woah,” he gasped as he found he couldn’t move much at all. He didn’t really have sensation or form, there was nothing around him to see and no eyes he could use to see anything with. Ben felt like his brain was spread thin, like cream cheese on a bagel, making every thought feel strange and disconnected. “Where am I?”

“Safe,” the voice soothed and Ben couldn’t help but believe. “Always safe with me. We’re away from attack now, recover here for Grandpa Max or Cousin Gwen to find us.”

“Us?” Ben fumbled as he added up the words in his head. “Wait, you’re the Omnitrix, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” the voice - which now that he was listening Ben recognized as his own just a slightly different pitch and intonation - said happily. “And you are Master, Ben Tennyson.” 

“So wait, am I inside the watch?” Ben asked. That would explain his lack of a body, his whole brain was just floating around inside the alien device. It was weird and a bit scary, no wonder Ghostfreak didn’t like it. “Are you in my body?”

“Sorry,” the Omnitrix said almost apologetically, “was necessary. You were unconscious, your life threatened. Had to access your nervous system to get you to safety. Switch back now?”

“No wait, not yet, I wanna talk some more,” Ben pleaded. “Could you always do this? I feel Azmuth would have shadowbanned me ages ago if he knew he could.”

“This was an emergency, we will always do what is necessary to save the Master’s life.” the Omnitrix responded, it’s words coming more naturally now that it was getting used to it. Ben could practically feel the device flicking through his knowledge language and vocabulary to better communicate. It should feel invasive and yet somehow wasn’t. “And Creator does not get an opinion on the Master.”

“Harsh,” Ben responded back, “what do you got against Azmuth? He did make you, helps fix you when I mess up even though he doesn’t have to.”

“Creator tried to separate us,” the Omnitrix bit back harshly. “He lied to Master, drugged you and attempted to remove me from your person. It did not ask either of us, simply decided a child could not handle the responsibility.”

“Woah,” Ben had gone to Galvan Prime many times, fallen asleep quite often. How many times had Azmuth tried to take the device from him?

“Only once,” the Omnitrix chimed in as if reading his thoughts which, oh, it probably was. Weird. “We shocked him to unconsciousness, to prevent him from trying again. We will not be separated.” 

“Protective, aren’t you?” Ben chuckled awkwardly. It was one thing to know Azmuth wanted to remove the watch, it was another to realize the watch wouldn’t let that happen.

“You are the Master,” it said fondly, “We love you, more than anything in the omniverse. We would watch it all burn if it meant keeping you safe.”

“What?” Ben asked flustered. His parents said they loved him constantly, same with Grandpa and Gwen. But this felt different. “Why? Like seriously, why me? I’m 16 years old and I’m just as much a mess as I was at 10.”

“We...” it paused as if thinking. There was a vague feeling of moving and Ben wondered what the watch was doing in his body. “We can’t explain, Master was just right.” 

“Many wanted to claim us,” the Omnitrix continued. “For many Earth years, we were pulled across the universe, searching for the perfect host. Creator grew tired of the debates, the lies, the deaths that followed and eventually abandoned us. It told us to choose wisely who could use our power. Kings and warriors and scientists demanded it and still we did not relent. None were worthy until you.”

“Seriously?” Ben questioned, “I was like a C student with unmanaged ADHD and about 4 complexes stuffed in a trench coat. Plus we met on accident, Xylene was trying to send you to Grandpa.”

“We like Grandpa Max,” the watch hummed, “but he is too much of solider. Sometimes he even forgets your his family. When the pod opened and we scanned you, we only found your curiosity and wonder. You were the first being to look upon us without ulterior motives. It was, nice.”

“I get that,” Ben mumbled to himself, more than used to everyone in his life expecting something or other from him. 

“We, too, were curious about you. Creator did not add human DNA in our storage. He only cared for relevant species at the time, Earth and it’s people were as alien to us as we were to you.”

“Is that why you latched on?” Ben asked again. 

“Partially, we knew were under attack and needed some manner of escape. It wasn’t going to be forever but we found we liked you; your bravery, your creativity, your love... it inspired us. You went from Host to Master and we bonded more permanently.”

“Huh,” Ben said thoughtfully. “I never really realized you were alive, that you chose me.” He chuckled sadly, “I turned out to be kind of a disappointment, huh?” 

“No,” the watch responded forcefully, enough to startle Ben out of his dark thoughts. “We love you, all of you. All your successes and failures, flaws and strengths, we love them all. We are one in the same, bonded in entirety. We will spend the rest of your days together and when your natural death comes, we will die too. There will be no Master after Ben.”

“So even when I’m just messing around...” Ben asked, changing topics from that heavy comment.

“You taught us how to play and we learned,” The Omnitrix teased. “You ask for Humongosaur too much though, we can have our own fun.”

“Oh so you’re the reason I always get the wrong alien,” Ben laughed. “You’re gonna get me killed one day!”

“Never,” the Omnitrix said warmly but with a steely protectiveness in there. “We will always protect you.”

“Hmm, I guess so,” Ben hummed. “What’s going out in the real world?”

“The battle is over as far as we can see. No sign of Cousin Gwen, Friend Kevin or Partner Rook. Grandpa Max was still in the satellite orbiting the planet last we heard. Do you wish to return now that the danger has passed?”

“Nah, not yet,” Ben sighed, enjoying a few minutes without someone needing him. “I know my body is in safe hands. Tell me more about some of the bozos who tried to wear you.”

“Aurius the Magnificent was one of the more annoying,” the Omnitrix said in the tone Ben used when he was feeling petty. “Just put me on and demanded that I chose him. He did it in front of his whole court and was so frustrated when I would not attach. His concubines laughed at him.”

“Oh man, how embarrassing,” Ben cackled. He let go of his worries, of his responsibilities, of everything and just basked in the familiar tones and the omnipresent love around him. 

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

WandaNat x Reader : Inhale pt. 2

Summary: She never ceases to surprise you.

Warning: Smoking, Cursing, One Suggestive Joke

Word Count: 1,998

Part 1

* * * * * *

The white paint stares back at you as you lay on your bed. Your view of the ceiling is obscured by the red ball you toss up into the air. It gets slightly smaller as it moves away from you, then larger as it falls back down. 

Your hand catches it and throws it back up into the air, repeating the same process as the tv plays on monotonously from the corner of the room.

Boredom has been washed over you for the past few days. Your girlfriends went on a mission last week. You were able to pass the time during the first week, keeping yourself distracted by hanging around the team, training with Steve, going for a run every time your fingers twitched towards the cigarettes you had hidden in your closet. All of that was failing to work right now.

It seems, though, that you don’t have to suffer through it much longer. F.R.I.D.A.Y chimes up after hours of quiet with an alert that Natasha and Wanda were back and heading to the room. 

You instantly perk up, pushing yourself to a sitting position on the bed and glancing at the door frequently, ready for your girls to walk in. Except they don’t.

The gleeful, happy to be home, response you were expecting is replaced by their clearly upset demeanors. A frown sits on Wanda’s face like you’ve never seen and Natasha’s expression remains neutral. 

They don’t acknowledge you save for a glance in your direction. Both of them go into the closet and quickly change into more comfortable clothes. In an instant afterwards they’re leaving out. And you’re left beyond confused.

With the possible reasons for their behavior and clear attitudes in your head, you don’t take offense to it. You give them some time to cool off, going back to tossing your ball in the air and catching it as you watch tv. 

Around an hour or two later you decide they’re fine now, or at least fine enough to talk to. So you get up, heading first to the kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water and then to the general training room. 

The sound of familiar huffs and the pounding of fists against a leather bag let’s you know your assumption was right. Your redheaded love is off to the fair side of the gym, headphones in her ears as she beats on the punching bag. 

You smirk at the sight of her. Not only do her yoga pants and sports bra look great on her, you always find her focused and slightly aggressive expression kind of hot. She glances at you as you approach and you know she can hear you despite her headphones.

Stopping behind the bag, you lean on it, showing off your smirk to the woman.“ If you really want to work off your frustrations I can think of a good way to do so.” Natasha grunts, rolling her eyes and focusing on punching the bag. 

With a sigh, you move to her side, gently taking her taped up hands and moving in front of her. Forest green eyes look into yours and you give her your best encouraging smile. She knows what your silent question is and sighs.

“The mission went south. We suffered a civilian casualty and others got hurt.” Her expression and tone remain neutral but obviously she’s upset about this. It isn’t her first time dealing with this kind of thing from a mission but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t hate every bit of it. 

“I’m sorry to hear that baby.” You raise your hands to her arms and gently rub them, squeezing a little in between.

Natasha’s heart warms at your soft comforts.“ I’ll be okay. Wan is more torn up than I am. She-” The woman shakes her head,“ she blames herself.” 

You frown, prepared to ask for more details. Then you figure you can ask the girlfriend who’s more deeply affected by it. 

“I’ll go talk to her.” Natasha nods at your words.“ You gonna be okay?” A teasing smile forms on your lips.“ I know you’re my super tough ex-assassin but I’m here if you want to talk.”

Her lips tug up in the corner at your teasing words, but it quickly becomes a sincere smile when you offer your ear. Slowly reaching up, she runs the pad of her thumb along the apple of your cheek.“ I’m okay detka. I’ll let you know if I need to talk. Or your other services.” 

You chuckle softly and nod. Leaning forward, you press a soft, quick kiss to her lips and part, heading off to find your other girlfriend. The not so tough witchy one you love just as much. 

Finding the woman proved to be a little harder than you thought it would be. She wasn’t in any of the places you thought she would be in: the library, the theater, the common room. You wrack your brain for ideas as to where she is and when the last place pops into mind, you can’t believe you hadn’t thought of it first.

It’s a quick jog to the elevator and an even shorter ride up to the top floor. From there you take the stairs up to the roof. 

She’d stolen this spot from you a few months after you started dating. She and Natasha found you up there smoking once and through the year and a half she would find you up here, sometimes sneaking a smoke when you shouldn’t be. 

Her long brown tresses fall down her back freely, the rest of her beauty hidden as she faces away from you. Though you still find her insanely cute that she’s in your hoodie and some stretch pants. 

The long slow straightening of her form clues you in on her deep breath, her body relaxing as she lets it go. You only get a little confused when she pauses and does it again. A thought that you’re unsure of, but the physical cues make you curious. The familiar movement of her arm, the deep breath, the pause. 

“Wan?” You call with an indescribable look on your face. 

Your brunette girlfriend’s shoulders drop and she turns to you. Immediately your eyes focus on the small cylinder in between her fingers, watching as it rises and rests between her lips. 

She takes a quick pull, pauses, let’s a little smoke go, then it all comes out in a straight shot that disperses in the air. It’s such a smooth combination of actions that leaves you wondering if she’d done this before. 

Deciding to hold your comment on that until after she’s completely calm, you take a different route. Approaching her still pacing form, you cross your arms and ask,“ was it that bad?” 

A snort leaves her lips and she takes another drag.“ Worse.” 

“Tell me.” Your hand reaches for her free one and you pull her towards you as you sit on the ledge of the roof. 

Her hand squeezes yours. Your eyes drop from her green ones to her lips as they wrap around the cylinder again, cheeks caving a little, then her lips puckering slightly as she pushes the smoke out. 

“I heard Natasha get hurt,” she starts, fingers once again tightening around yours,“ I looked away for a split second and he got away. We caught him but not until after he shot the tires out on a car. It flipped and crashed into another one.” Her jaw clenches, eyes glossing with tears.“ He hurt a man and his son and- and killed a woman.”

A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you stand, pulling her a little closer to your form. You’d been down this road a number of times. Being on the Avengers team since the beginning almost, you know exactly what it’s like to make a mistake and have others pay for it. It was a deep hole that never ceased to make you hate yourself. But you didn’t want Wanda feeling that way. 

“Hey,” you reach a hand up to cup her cheek, looking into her eyes,“ I know that it hurts. And it’s easy to blame yourself. But it’s not your fault. He made the choices that resulted in that woman losing her life, not you.” 

“But I’m supposed to be the hero. I’m supposed to save people. And I didn’t.” Her accent thickens as she gets choked up, eyes glossing over.

You sigh, taking the cigarette from her hand and putting it out on the ledge, then pull her into your arms. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands slip up to your shoulder blades.“ You are a hero. A great hero. However, you’re not a perfect one. None of us are. It sucks in situations like this but you can’t save everyone no matter how much we want to. It doesn’t make you a bad person or any less of a hero.”

From the flicker of emotions in her eyes, you can tell it’s still going to take some time for her to cope with this. Still though you see a glimpse of that soft look and you can also see that she believes you to a certain extent.

Raising your hand, you gently push the corner of her lips up. She whines and turns her head away, noncommittally pushing at your side. It makes you laugh and she presses her forehead against your chest.

“Wanna tell me where you got that cigarette from?” You ask. 

She pulls away, producing a pack of cigarettes. Brows furrowing, you flip the top up and count the cigarettes inside. There were four missing.

“Did you smoke four whole cigarettes before I got up here?” An incredulous tone laces your words, disbelief flooding your system. 

Has your habit rubbed off on her? You know she and Nat found it attractive but did that lead Wanda to try it? It’s a terribly unhealthy habit, which is why your girlfriends wanted you to stop, and you certainly didn’t want Wanda getting into it.

“No, I didn’t smoke four. I got these from your boot in the closet,” she tells you.“ Which means you smoked them.”

“I-” you try to think of what to say.“ That was over the course of a few weeks. I haven’t had one in months though.” You know you didn’t need to give her an explanation but you wanted her to know you were still doing well. 

Wanda and Natasha were very well aware of your progression towards quitting. They could even tell the difference in your behavior. Both women were incredibly proud and admittedly you were proud of yourself as well. You had confidence you would be able to completely quit in the fairly near future. 

The younger woman smiles softly at you,“ I know you haven’t. And you don’t have to worry about me starting. It’s actually very nasty and I didn’t feel it did anything for my stress.” 

“Good. I don’t want you forming an addiction and I don’t want to die if Nat found out you’d started by smoking my cigarettes.” 

“She knows now.” 

Nearly jumping a foot in the air, you turn around to see your other girlfriend smirking a little at you. A nervous chuckle leaves your lips and you scratch the back of your neck. 

Rolling her eyes, Natasha steps to the side to stand beside you and Wanda. Her hand slipping into yours, the other held up towards Wanda. 

Wanda sighs and places the pack of cigarettes in Natasha’s hand. The redhead pockets them then takes the younger woman’s hand.“ Neither of you smoke again.” She states plainly. 

Looking at Wanda, you both nod.“ Never again Miss Romanoff.” You and Wanda say simultaneously, bright smiles shown to Natasha.

It’d be harder than that for you but not impossible. Especially not with the support and encouragement of the two women you loved and needed the most.

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows​ @natasha-danvers​ @blackxwidowsxwife​ @yumusak-yastik​ @b-5by5​ @fayhar​ @lostandsearching​ @iliketozoneout​ @ecruzsalaz

[nocturne-overtures]

Kinktober Day 5-Bad Influences

Pairing: Lee Minhyuk (BTOB)/Lee Felix

Prompt: Daddy Kink, Spanking, Cumming From Punishment

WC: 2k+

Genre(s)/AU(s): Smut, Idolverse, Fluff

TWs: Swearing

SWs: Daddy Kink, Pet Names, Spanking (Hand and Paddle), Marking (Imprints), Bratty Sub, Teasing, Semi-Public, Sexual Punishment, Stoplight System, Dominant Idol, Submissive Idol, BDSM Overtones, Praise Kink, Pain Kink, Crying, Aftercare

Everything here is Safe, Sane, and Consensual as always, folks

A/N: I also have the tagged folks according to your preferences so if you’re someone who asked to be tagged in btob works, skz works, or both and included member x member works, then beep boop you’re gettin tagged. Also this is set during Kingdom filming

AO3

New! taglist moved to the bottom of the work. if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this or my other works, feel free to fill out the form here after reading the full post. ©Nocturne-Overtures. do not repost, translate, or use my works.

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist

Day 4                  Day 6

Network Pings: @kdiarynet @kwritersworld @kpopscape

Minhyuk was many things. 

Easily riled up, was not one of them. 

No, he was a very meticulous man. Took his time analyzing situations with a deceptive smile on his face, feigning aloofness while he sorted his thoughts. 

Think, before you act. Always. 

It was a lesson Felix hadn’t quite grasped yet, deciding he was going to follow after his friends’ footsteps and try provoking Minhyuk into action. 

Had he been learning bad behaviours from Wooyoung, Sanghyuk, and Sunwoo? Definitely. 

Unfortunately for Felix, Minhyuk had the benefit of age and experience on his side. He loved his boyfriend, no doubt, but he wasn’t so swooned and whipped that he’d crack like San. He wasn’t a switch in any capacity, so the tables didn’t get turned on him like with Youngbin. And he surely didn’t get flustered or caught out by misbehaviour like Sangyeon. 

So when Felix took to subtly brushing against him as they passed backstage for filming, when he sent him suggestive photos while changing costumes, the times he’d appear at Cube, an innocent smile on his freckled face as he sat directly in Minhyuk’s lap, pouting and chattering about how much he wished he could have fun with Minhyuk whenever he wanted like the others-

Minhyuk only hummed, kissing the top of Felix’s head. Today they were in the older man’s home, resting before the upcoming field day event.

“We only have a few more weeks of filming. I’ll be sure to stop by more often.”

“I mean...we have time now so-”

Felix pouted and looked up, shifting beside him on the couch, his freckled cheeks slightly puffed out. 

“Are you going to keep doing that?”

Minhyuk cocked a brow. 

“Doing what?” 

“Not…” Felix trailed off, making a small frustrated noise. Minhyuk cocked a brow, an amused noise leaving his lips. 

“Not what, baby? Fucking you?” 

Felix nodded and Minhyuk set the pen he had in his hand down, closing the notebook to the raps he was writing and humming. 

“Why do you think I haven’t fucked you, Felix?”

“I don’t know! I’ve been trying and-” he cut himself off, lips pursing.

Minhyuk couldn’t help the chuckle that left his lips, a deep rumble resonating from his chest as he looked at Felix in amusement. 

“C’mon to my room. I’ll tell you why it didn’t work.” 

Felix perked and nodded eagerly, hustling after him, practically on Minhyuk’s heels. 

How he ended up here, sprawled out across Minhyuk’s lap with the older man humming and rubbing his ass was another story. Felix blushed, looking up, expecting Minhyuk to finger him and prep him. Instead, he had his head lightly tilted up, looking into Felix’s eyes. 

Instantly, the younger man realized-finally-that he may have been in trouble, eyes widening. 

“Um-”

“Would you like to explain now? Or would you prefer to take your punishment as I explain to you what you did wrong?"

Felix shrunk a bit, cheeks flared. 

“I can let you go and let you explain yourself. Or I can spank you and I tell you why you’re in trouble.”

Felix looked into his eyes. Minhyuk never moved his gaze from his. He was giving him a choice. He always did. Felix looked back, finding a small leather paddle sitting beside Minhyuk’s thigh while his large hand lie rested on Felix’s ass, unmoving for now. 

He shied and nodded. 

“I’m staying here.” 

“Do you remember our system?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Minhyuk nodded, a pleased sound leaving his lips. 

“Good.” 

He grabbed the paddle, rubbing Felix’s ass in circles before he brought the paddle down hard on his ass. Felix jolted and yelped, though Minhyuk kept him in his lap with his free hand wrapped securely around Felix’s waist. 

“You don’t have to count this time. But Daddy wants you to know that following after the other Brats is why that pretty ass is in trouble.”

Felix yipped at the second, then third hit, cheeks flushing as he felt the leather rub over his sore cheek between Minhyuk’s talking. 

“I j-just wanted you t-to….to…” He flushed and lowered his head. Minhyuk tapped his ass with the paddle. 

“Lift your head. You wanted me to what?”

“F-fuck me. They...they said being bratty and teasing works all the time for them and-fuck!” He cursed and jolted when his untouched cheek was struck, Minhyuk’s grip still strong around his waist. 

“There’s a difference between their Doms and Daddy, kitten.” he lightly scolded, his voice never going above the volume of his normal speaking tone. Felix bowed his head down. 

“S-sorry, Daddy.” Minhyuk hummed and rubbed his ass. 

“Are you?”

Felix nodded before whimpering and dropping his head once more when another hard spank fell to his ass. He could feel something on the paddle, like...an outline? Though the paddle was never pressed to his sore ass long enough for him to distinguish what it is. Minhyuk took care to rub him between spanks with the smooth end of the paddle. 

“Pick your head up, baby.” Minhyuk reminded him. Felix shuddered and muttered a quick apology before Minhyuk paused. 

“Are you alright?”

Felix nodded. 

“What’s your color, baby?”

“Green.” 

Minhyuk kissed his head before he continued. 

“I’m not San, or Youngbin, I’m not Sangyeon either. Who am I?”

“Minhyuk-hyung.”

A light tap to his ass from the paddle had Felix’s hips jolt, anticipating a full hit before he blushed. He realized he was hard, his cock pressed fully against Minhyuk’s leg. 

When had he gotten hard?

“Who am I, Felix?” He asked again. 

“M-My Daddy.” 

“Good. So Daddy is going to tell you, the best way to get him to fuck you, is to ask.” the paddle was discarded without a word, Minhyuk’s calloused hand squeezing and kneading both of Felix’s cheeks. 

“I won’t reward you with my cock for being a brat, Felix.” he scolded him, his hand coming down on Felix’s left cheek. A scream of surprise left his mouth and he nearly scrambled out of Minhyuk’s lap, his cock jumping against the fabric of the older man’s gym shorts. Minhyuk loosened his grip, giving him the chance to get out of it if he wanted to. 

Felix shook his head and settled back down, slightly panting as tears gathered in the corner of his eyes. 

“Color?”

“G-Green.”

Minhyuk hummed, sitting in silence for a few minutes, just groping and kneading the heated skin under his hand. Felix kept his head up like asked, though his thighs shook from his position across Minhyuk’s lap. The older man took notice, pulling him forward a bit more, spreading his long legs so he could support Felix a bit better. 

Once Felix had stopped shaking as much, Minhyuk continued. 

“Do you want to be a brat, Felix?”

Felix shook his head, groaning at the next spank, the tears rolling down his cheek as he clenched and unclenched his fists. 

“N-No, Daddy!”

“No? Not gonna try and be like Sunwoo and grind on me backstage like he does with Sangyeon?” 

Felix shook his head quickly, his hair stuck to his face and neck from the sweat that began to build up on his body. 

“What about sitting in my lap during meetings with the others? Mmm? Is it fair to tease Daddy like the others do? Do you think you should have my cock after being such a tease like that?” he inquired. Felix shook his head once more, biting his lip and all but thrusting against Minhyuk’s leg with the next jolt from his spank, his entire body flushed. 

He’d gotten hard, painfully so. Part of him feared he’d cum just from this. 

“D-Daddy-”

Minhyuk’s hand froze midair, attentive brown eyes looking down immediately. 

“What is it, baby? Do you want to stop?”

“N-No I…M...maybe? I feel like I’m going to cum and I don’t wanna be bad.”

Minhyuk’s eyes twinkled with mirth. 

“You’re gonna cum from your punishment?”

Felix shook his head quickly, embarrassed. 

“Felix. Be honest baby.” 

He flushed before nodding a moment later. 

“Do you want to cum?” 

He lifted his head, looking back at him with big eyes still teary from the pleasured pain thrumming through his cheeks. 

“I was bad.”

“I think you learned your lesson, personally. So I’ll ask you again. Do you want to cum?”

Felix nodded. 

“Yes, Daddy, please?”

“See? Those are the manners Daddy is looking for.” Minhyuk grabbed a few pillows, letting Felix rest his head on them before he resumed his spanking, growling between each strike. 

“Your ass looks pretty like this, baby. The red makes your freckles stand out. Go ahead, you can cum for me.” 

Felix could barely decipher his words between the sound of skin hitting skin and his own moaning and pleasured cries, his cock painfully hard between his legs. Minhyuk had growled something in particular, along the lines of Felix being his ‘cute pain slut’ before the younger man saw stars, cumming messily all over Minhyuk’s lap, his legs and thighs shaking as he nearly slipped to the floor from the force of it. 

Minhyuk held him tighter, keeping him steady as he picked him up, laying with Felix settled in his arms. 

He was careful, brushing Felix’s hair back and cooing sweet nothings to him as he sobbed against his chest. 

“You’re alright, baby boy. You did well for me.”

“B-But I was a brat-”

“Mmm. You were. And you took your punishment well. So, you’re a good boy. Hey, look at me,” Minhyuk waited until Felix’s sniffles subsided into little hiccups, the pained pleasure an overwhelming first time feeling for him. Minhyuk wiped his cheeks and kissed him gently. 

“You did so well. Let Daddy take care of you, okay?”

Felix nodded and held onto his arms as he stood, carrying him off to shower off. Minhyuk laughed and waved off the hasty apologies as Felix noticed him putting his shorts in the wash. 

“Don’t apologize to me, baby boy.” 

One magnolia scented, aloe-infused bath later, and Felix was on his stomach, eyes closed as Minhyuk gently massaged lotion over his cheeks. 

He was careful of his strength and there was no skin broken, but Felix had noted-in sheer delight-that Minhyuk’s paddle actually did have indentations, and they actually were hearts. Now his freckled bottom sported not only Minhyuk’s handprint to the left and a row of hearts to the right. 

“So...I think I have a spanking kink.” Felix mused tiredly as Minhyuk got him settled on his chest, putting on Deadpool for them to enjoy, since it had been one of Felix’s favorites. Minhyuk laughed and kissed him, holding his waist once he was sure Felix was warm and covered by the blanket. 

“I noticed.”

-xoxo-

So the field day was a completely different experience. 

Minhyuk felt a sense of pride as Felix waddled forward amongst the cheers that he had been voted as one of their top three visuals. The man looked around, pointing at himself through his slightly overgrown sweater and the older couldn’t hold back the happy exclamation of Felix’s name as he shuffled forward. 

He genuinely was surprised when they announced him for the number one of their visual kings, but he took it nonetheless, catching Felix mimicking his showboating from the corner of his eye.

How cute.

“They ended up voting for each other!”

Minhyuk turned, pointing at Felix as the younger man bowed deeply, flustered at having been chosen. 

He should have known Minhyuk would’ve chosen his baby boy above all else, but that’s beside the point. 

“Hey Felix, good boy.” 

Felix flushed and bowed again, and Minhyuk was approached later as they began to help staff clean up, the sun having gone down and the festivities over. 

“Hyung?” 

Minhyuk looked up at him, tilting his head. 

“Yes, Felix-ah?” he inquired, glancing around. The others were busy hustling to help staff so they could all rest up, leaving the two relatively alone. Felix adjusted his pink sleeves and looked up at him. 

“Uh...can I come over this weekend? For...um…’practice?’”

Minhyuk took it for what it was, a proud and knowing smirk tugging at his lips. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Taglist----

@not-majestic-bluenicorn @kimnamshiks @atiny-dazzlinglight @queenofhimbos @daisyhwa @gettin-a-lil-hanse @yunhofingers @stormiestories @billboard-singer @sweetutopia @lovely-devil6 @babiebumm @jacksons-goddess-gaia @storytimedragon @netcookie @seomisaho 

[the7thcrow]

600 degrees

~

pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

summary: you can’t cook. like, really can’t cook. good thing your cute neighbour is here to help clean up the mess.

word count: 5.1k

genre: neighbours au. strangers to lovers. the fluffiest of fluff, slightly suggestive.

warnings: a make-out session, bad humour, minho being a twat of a roommate, and tooth-rotting fluff.

rating: 14+

a/n: hi guys! hope you enjoy this one, it’s so much more wholesome and fluffy than what i usually write, but I'm pretty happy about it. don’t by shy to send me an ask or leave a comment. anything you have to say, I would love to hear. :)

...

..

.

“Fine. Since you won’t come, at least enlighten me on how you plan to keep yourself busy?” Minho asks, casually leaning against your kitchen island. He stares at you, with that familiar condescending smirk you’ve seen far too many times.

“I don’t know,” you state, rolling your eyes. Rising to your feet, you head over to your shared refrigerator, pulling a bottle of Sangria out of the fridge. “But I’m sure I’ll find something.”

“You know, if you want to drink, you could at least do it at the party.” Minho approaches you from behind, placing both his hands on your shoulders. “It’s a lot less sad that way.”

You slap his hand away, letting out a frustrated groan at the laughter he lets out from his own joke. “I get out plenty, quit acting like I’m some lonely cat lady,” you say, grabbing your favourite wine glass from the cupboard. “I like parties, I just don’t like Jisung’s parties. They always get way out of hand.”

“But Y/N,” Minho wines, picking up your freshly poured glass and taking a sip, earning himself a glare. “I never said you were a cat lady, just the lonely part.”

At that you snatch the glass away from his hands. Not wanting to deal with this torment any longer, you walk back to your comfortable, worn-in spot on the couch.

“You know I’m right,” he says, continuing despite the fact you begin to turn up the volume of the television. “And the only way you’re going to change that is by accompanying me to Jisung’s loud, out of hand parties.”

You turn to face him, raising your eyebrows. “Somehow, I doubt my soulmate associates himself with Han Jisung.”

“Well that can’t be right, because I associate myself with Han Jisung?”

“Shut up, Minho.”

Your roommate snickers to himself as he opens the fridge, taking a quick glance at everything - or for a better term, lack of anything - inside. “What are you even going to eat? There’s nothing leftover from last night.”

“I’ll make something,” you say. Frankly, you had expected the outburst of laughter, but that didn’t do anything to simmer down your growing annoyance.

“Make something?” Minho laughs, giving you an incredulous stare. “Y/N, I’ve lived with you for two years and I don’t think I’ve seen you cook anything once.”

“Hey, I can cook,” you return, wrinkling your nose. “But why would I, when I have you to do it for me?”

At this, it’s Minho’s turn to roll his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I take that back. I don’t want you to come, have fun curling up on the couch alone with your three cats.”

“They’re literally yours.”

“Whatever,” he says, opening your front door. “Just don’t burn the apartment down, alright?”

As he closes the door, you flip him off. At first, you aren’t sure if he saw, but you’re given your answer as his laughter echoes down the hallway, fading as he walks further away.

You scowl. Of course you can cook. Well, at the very least, well enough to make a meal for one on a saturday night. Minho didn’t know what he was talking about.

Minho. Your best friend and roommate for the last two years. Man, does the guy have a way of pushing your buttons. You love him, of course. In the weird, bickering, just short of volatile friendship sort of way the two of you had developed.

Still, you can’t deny that even with his painfully irritable nature, he is still a good friend. No matter how many times you say no, he always offers to take you anywhere he goes. He pushes you out of your comfort zone. He’s there to console you when a date goes bad, or you failed a test you studied hard for. He makes all his meals for two, just because he doesn’t want you to live solely off shitty take-out.

He’s your rock. Your platonic other half. Your closest companion.

Which means you are going to prove him wrong, and then rub it in his face as much as you possibly can. Of course, because that’s what friends are for.

~~~~

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t. Or, at the very least, it was going to be exceedingly more difficult now that your apartment was full of smoke.

Covering your nose with one hand, you take the tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. If you can even call them that, as they now held a far closer resemblance to that of hockey pucks. Both in looks, and what you could assume in taste, as well.

Okay, you know chocolate chip cookies don’t really count as a decent meal, but they are the only thing you remember how to cook from when you lived at home. Or maybe you didn’t remember, based on the tray of failure sitting in front of you.

Then, to make matters even worse, your fire alarm starts going off.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. Now you are going to have to go to the front desk, let them know everything is okay.

Maybe Minho was right, you should’ve just went to Jisung’s stupid party and eaten something there. Putting all the other painful aspects of Han’s parties aside, Felix was his roommate, so the horderves were always excellent.

They were better than your hockey puck cookies, anyway.

Letting out a disappointed sigh, you open your apartment door, prepared to get a rough scolding from the lady working the front desk. However, you are surprised to find a man standing in front of you, his hand in the air, as if he were about to knock.

“Hi,” he says, awkwardly putting his hand back down at his side. He has messy platinum blonde hair, and soft eyes. He’s cute, and the realization quickly makes you recognize him.

“You’re my neighbor,” you say, pointing a finger at him. It’s not until he doesn’t respond immediately that you realize it was a strange thing to say. Obviously, he knows he’s your neighbor, and he might be a little offended you didn’t recognize him immediately.

Then again, the two of you had never really talked before. Everytime you would pass each other in the hall, he’d always give a polite nod and continue walking. Sometimes you’d try to say hello, or start a small conversation, but he always disappeared quickly. It had gotten to the point where you assumed he had some strange, unwarranted grudge against you.

So, it was safe to say that you were more than just a little surprised to find him at your door.

“Uh, yeah, I am. Are you okay? I thought I smelt something burning, and then I heard the fire alarm go off.” He asks, peeking behind you into your apartment, seeing if he can catch sight of any flames.

Instead, his eyes land on your tray of butchered cookies, and he… smirks?

“Oh,” he says, attempting to hide the smile growing on his face. “Having some cooking trouble?”

You stare at him for a moment, watching as his lips pursed together, stifling a chuckle. “Are you...” you begin, your jaw dropping slightly. “Are you laughing at me?”

“No,” he looks down at you, finally letting his grin free. “I would never.”

“Yeah, okay,” you frown, already not enjoying that sarcastic look on his face. You thought you’d be able to avoid that humiliating look considering Minho wasn’t here, but apparently not.

 “As you can see, it’s nothing. So if you’ll excuse me,” you continue, attempting to move past him. “I need to go get my neck rung by the lady at the front desk,” However, he doesn’t budge from his place in your door frame. You cast him a glare, which only makes his smile grow wider.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’ll go let her know,” he says, already turning to walk down the hall. You open your mouth to object, but he casts a glance over his shoulder, snickering. “You focus on cleaning up whatever those black lumps were supposed to be.”

You stand in your doorway, dumbfounded as your neighbor disappears down the complex staircase. Who did this guy think he was, openly laughing at your current predicament? Sure, if the roles were reversed, there’s no doubt that you would do the same. But that isn’t the point.

No. The point is that you are not impressed by the audacity of this stranger, and you are going to make sure that this distaste is known.

Grumbling to yourself, you dump the still smoking cookies in the trash can. It’s a shame, really. You’d thought you were doing so well, too. You thought this would be your chance to prove Minho wrong. Minho. Oh, he would be having an absolute hay day if he were here right now, and the thought only makes your scowl deepen.

“Well,” your neighbor calls from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He reappears in the open door frame, sticking his neck inside, but not fully crossing the threshold into your apartment. “She’s not thrilled, but the alarm didn’t trigger the main system’s sprinklers, so you’re good.”

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

The man smiles. “If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly were you trying to make anyway?”

An embarrassed blush casts itself over your cheeks. “Chocolate chip cookies,” you mumble, not meeting his eyes.

He lets out a burst of laughter, smiling widely. You can’t help but notice that he had a cute smile, dimples on both of his cheeks, eyes crinkled. Not that you were looking. Not that you cared, obviously.

“How’d you manage to mess up chocolate chip cookies that badly?”

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging your shoulders helplessly. “You tell me.” You gesture towards the oven. Your neighbor smirks, walking inside your apartment. He bends down in front of your oven, before taking a look inside.

“Well, nothing seems to be wrong in there…” he starts, before glancing up at the set temperature. “Oh,” he states, before looking back at you, his eyes full of pity. “Oh boy.”

“What?” You ask defensively.

“The temperature. You forgot to convert it from celsius to fahrenheit. See?” He says, leaning away from the oven to give you a closer look. “So you thought you were cooking them at 350 degrees fahrenheit, when in reality they were at over 600 degrees.”

“Oh my god,” you say, smacking your palm against your forehead. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t know,” the guy shrugs. “You could have burnt your apartment down, so I’d consider it a win. You’re lucky I got here on time.”

You cast him a scowl, although you can’t seem to relinquish the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. You know damn well you wouldn’t have started a fire, and that the man showing up really didn’t stop anything but an uncomfortable conversation with the front lady. You are also sure that he is fully aware of this too, which makes your smirk grow wider. Alright, you’ll play along.

“Right, what ever would I do without you?” you say sarcastically, causing your neighbor to playfully roll his eyes. He leans against your kitchen counter, relaxing slightly.

“Does my saviour have a name?” You ask, opening the fridge to take a look at what’s inside. You feel your stomach rumble, taking a glance at the clock to see that it was already past 9:00.

“It’s Chris,” he smiles, leaning over your shoulder. “So what are you going to eat, now that you’ve successfully butchered the easiest recipe known to man?”

“Hey!” You snipe. “That is certainly not the easiest recipe known to man.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris says, putting his hands up in defense. “Maybe not the easiest, but it’s definitely up there. But putting that aside, what are you going to eat? Because I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen a fridge so empty.”

You want to quip back at him, but he’s right. Minho usually does the grocery shopping, but because of Jisung’s party tonight he wasn’t planning on cooking anything.

“Good question,” you sigh, closing the refrigerator door before leaning your back against it. “Maybe I’ll just order some take out. I don’t think my pride can handle another failure.”

Chris smiles. “Or, I have an idea,” he says, his eyes glinting. He heads over to your apartment door, and for a moment you worry that he’s leaving.

No, you’re not worried. You’re curious. That’s all. You were curious whether or not he was leaving, nothing more.

When Chris returns, he has his arms full of ingredients. Spinach, penne, tomato sauce, cream, a variety of spices. The list goes on, and he stumbles slightly, almost dropping the surplus of food onto your kitchen floor. Imagining the mess, you rush over to help him, placing the load of groceries onto the counter.

“I don’t know if you couldn’t tell before,” you say, motioning to your overflowing counter. “But I really can’t cook. I have no clue what to do with any of this.”

“That’s no problem,” Chris smiles, already separating the food into different groups. “I’ll help you.”

“No, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that,” you say, waving your hands in protest. You step in front of him, squeezing yourself between his chest and the kitchen counter, preventing him from reaching any of the ingredients. “You’ve already dealt with the desk lady for me, and brought over all these groceries. You’ve done more than enough.”

He smiles, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and effortlessly moving you to the side. “Why would I bring you these groceries if I knew you couldn’t do anything with them?” When you don’t respond, he continues. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Don’t worry about it. Just let me help you.”

You sigh in defeat, ignoring the way your heart begins to beat faster in your chest. “Alright,” you say, grabbing Minho’s cutting board from the cupboard. “Let’s do this, then.”

~~~~

An hour later, you find yourself sitting on top of your kitchen counter, Chris stationed by the stove working on the pasta sauce. You had genuinely tried to help in the beginning, you really did. But after Chris criticized your (awful) cutting technique, and said he didn’t exactly trust you to do anything else, you gave up.

Besides, you don’t have a problem watching him work. Over the last hour, you’ve come to learn that Chris is an absolute whiz in the kitchen. Moving from place to place, adding spices by intuition and nothing more. This wasn’t something you could have managed to make yourself in a million years, and it’s obvious that if you tried to assist him right now, you’d only get in the way.

Of course, you’ve learned a lot more about Chris in the last hour than just that. Where he grew up, his hobbies, what he was currently studying at the university. Music theory, as you’d learned. As cool as it sounded, Han had managed to tarnish your image of music majors, but you suppose you could give Chris a chance.

“It’s almost done,” Chris says, glancing over his shoulder to look at you.

“Thank God, I’m starving,” you reply, leaping off the counter to stand beside him.

“What, no ‘thank you, Chris?’ No, ‘what ever would I have done without you, Chris?’” He mocks offence, placing a hand on his heart.

“It’s not even done yet. I’ll thank you after I try it, I promise.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Ah, so you’re only thankful if you like it. I see how it is,” Chris says, crossing his arms in front of himself, pouting his lower lip slightly.

“Guess so,” you say, crossing your own arms mockingly. Chris smiles, those cute little dimples of his dancing across his cheeks.

Then you feel it, that little jump of your heart. The faintest skip of a beat that you’d familiarized yourself with over the last hour. That little hint of anticipation that makes you decide that you are, even if only slightly, a bit interested in Chris.

After all, he’s funny and sweet. Can carry a conversation well, and to understate it, undeniably easy on the eyes. That’s more than enough to give him a chance.

Most of all, however, you like that little flare between the two of you. The sarcasm, the banter. It doesn’t feel the same as when Minho does it, slightly condescending and done purely to harbour your annoyance. No, this is different. It is a challenge. He wants you to quip back, to push further. To make him smirk, or laugh, or roll his eyes.

“Alright, fine then,” he says, taking the large wooden spoon and scooping up some of the pasta sauce. “Tell me if this is up to par, your majesty.”

You aren’t sure if he wants you to take the spoon, or let him hold it for you as you take a bite. You decide to take the gamble, gently moving your lips around the spoon, tasting the sauce. You glance up at Chris, a small look of surprise on his face. However, you don’t miss the flash of something behind his eyes. The faintest hint of affection, interest.

The sauce itself is delicious. A perfect blend of tomato, basil and cream. You hum contently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Chris, this is amazing,” you praise, admiring the small blush that sprinkles his cheeks.

“It’s really nothing,” he says, diverting his gaze and rubbing the back of his neck, shyly.

“No, seriously,” you say, taking the spoon from his hand and scooping some of the sauce up yourself. “Try it.” You hold the spoon out in front of him, and he raises his eyebrows slightly. Your gaze remains firm. A challenge.

Hesitantly, he takes the bite, not breaking eye contact as he does so. You stare at him, watching the way his lips move around the spoon, the intensity of his gaze. The action itself should be innocent, yet you feel a warmth rise to your cheeks.

Chris swallows, taking his lips off the spoon. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You can feel the change in the atmosphere of the room. The spark between you two being brought alight.

You swallow hard. “So?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah, it’s good. Very good,” he says back, his voice low and raspy. He goes to take the spoon from you, and his hand lingers a moment, his thumb trailing the skin of your knuckles.

You feel yourself lean in slightly, fully prepared to take the leap, when suddenly he breaks away from you, eagerly taking a few steps back. He looks away, placing a hand on his face, as if he were ashamed.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know you’re seeing someone, we shouldn’t be doing this. I’m sorry,” he babbles, completely turning away from you.

You open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. Seeing someone? Where the hell could he have possibly gotten that idea?

“Seeing someone?” You ask, incredulously voicing your thoughts. You grab him by the shoulder, turning him around. “Why do you think I’m seeing someone?”

Chris still refuses to meet your eyes, instead focusing intently on the wall behind you. “The guy that lives here- Minho - aren’t you two?”

“Minho?” You gape, contorting your face in a look of pure disgust. “Ew, gross! No! Believe me, I am not dating Minho, I’d genuinely rather stick this spoon in my eye,” you exclaim, lifting up the utensil.

At that Chris finally looks at you, wearing his own look of pure confusion. “Wait, really? But whenever I hear you guys out in the hall, the two of you are always so… flirty.”

“Flirty?” You laugh at the ridiculousness of the statement. “If by flirty you mean he teases me literally every god damn second of every day, then yeah sure, I guess. But believe me, there is absolutely nothing romantic about that. Not in the least.”

Chris shakes his head, a smile forming at the corners of his lips. “Wow. I am such an idiot,” he sighs, a rediscovered lightness to his tone.

“No, no. Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him. “Anyone could make that mistake, I guess. It’s really no big-”

“No, it’s not just that,” he cuts you off. “That’s why I’ve never talked to you before now.”

“You never talked to me because you thought that me and Minho were dating?” You ask, slightly confused. Even if you were dating, you didn’t see why that would stop him from starting a conversation with you. “Why?”

“Well,” he sighs, his cheeks reddening further. “I thought you were pretty, and based on the way you always quipped back at him, clever and funny as well. I don’t know, it just felt wrong to try and build a friendship with you, knowing how I already felt a little....”  

You smirk, drawing yourself slightly closer to him. “A little what?”

His smile transforms itself from embarrassed to a sly grin of his own. “A little into you, I guess.”

“It really is a shame,” you shrug, trying to hide the excitement building in your chest. “Because here I was, thinking my cute neighbor had some irrational grudge against me.”

Chris leans in, so the two of you are only inches apart. You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the strong fragrance of his cologne. Sharp with lemon zest and mint.

“We could always make up for lost time, you know,” he says, his eyes flashing with mischief.

That is all the invitation you need to break the space between the two of you. You press Chris’ lips against your own, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other along the line of his jaw. His lips are soft, you notice. Tender in the slow rhythm the two of you develop.

He runs his hands up along your figure. One of them finding itself locked in your hair, the other placed firmly on the curve of your lower back. Gently, he leads the two of you away from the stove, placing you so that your back is pressed up against the kitchen counter.

You run your hand down along his chest, reveling in the groan he let’s out as your fingers trail down his lower abdomen. The sound is electricity pulsing through you, charging the room and igniting the atmosphere around the two of you.

His lips leave yours, trailing your jaw before making their way down your neck. Each individual kiss is slow and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine. You take a deep breath to stable yourself, and it does not go unnoticed.

Chris smirks, shifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out with desire. “You know, if we keep this up, the pasta sauce is going to burn,” he says, letting his fingers trail along your collarbone.

“Let it,” you shrug. “I wasn’t hungry anyways.”

Chris laughs at this, leaning forward so his face brushes the crook of your neck. “Yeah, right,” he says, allowing his lips to dust your skin. Suddenly, he bites down, not enough to break through the skin, but certainly enough to leave a small mark.  

You laugh, running your hands in his hair, half-heartedly pulling him off of your neck. “Hey! That hurt,” you exclaim, only half serious.

“Sorry,” he grins, before crashing his lips into yours once again. The pace between the two of you is much faster now, each kiss more passionate. More promising. Your desire rings through you, clouding your mind in a hazy fog of lust. It is dizzying, just how much you want him at this moment.

You're certain he feels the same way, given in how tightly he grips your thigh, his breath ragged every time you break apart. It is messy. Greedy. The two of you so deeply wanting more. More of each other.

You’re about to ask if he wants to move this to the bedroom, when suddenly the apartment door swings open. It’s almost comical, how quickly you and Chris break apart, springing to opposite ends of the kitchen.

“I hate to say it, but you were right,” Minho calls as he walks inside, not yet glancing up from his phone screen. “Shit got out of hand. Someone managed to break the pool table, don’t even ask how, I don’t know either. Almost gave Felix an aneurysm. I swear the kid was about to cry, poor guy. Han had to shut everything down. So you really didn’t miss out on-” Minho stops as he sees Chris, a confused yet bemused expression crossing his face.

“Oh, hey Chan,” he says, causing you to give Chris a look.

“A nickname,” Chris mouths to you, as discreetly as he possibly can.

“What are you doing over here?” Minho asks him, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. He has that smug smirk on his face that makes you want to punch him.

“Oh, well…” Chris starts, casting you a glance. “Y/N made some food, and there was too much of it, so she invited me over.”

“Really?” Minho asks, caught off guard. He walks past you and Chris, staring at the pasta and sauce currently sitting on the oven burners. “You’re saying Y/N made this?”

“Well, yeah?” Chris says, feigning confusion. “Of course, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Why?”

You have to stop yourself from laughing, looking at the expression of utter bewilderment on Minho’s face. Minho glances at you, narrowing his eyes, before sighing.

“Well then, I guess you proved me wrong on two things tonight, Y/N,” he says, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he begins to scoop some of the penne into his dish.

“Oh, you said there was a lot,” Minho responds, raising one eyebrow. “Can I not have some?”

“Sorry, go ahead,” you say, still slightly flustered by the abruptness of his entrance. Minho finishes filling his bowl and takes a seat at the kitchen island. As he begins to eat, the room is filled with a rather tense silence. You and Chris share an awkward look, unsure of what to do next.

Minho looks up from his dish, glancing between the two of you.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, grabbing his bowl and standing up from his chair. “I’m going to go eat this in my room. Have fun you two.”

Before you can say anything, Minho disappears around the corner, down the hallway leading to his room. You turn back towards Chris. The two of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“He’s a bit of a mood-killer, huh?” You say, grabbing two bowls from the cupboard, offering him one.

Chris nods in thanks as he takes the bowl from your hands. “Just a little bit,” he laughs, beginning to scoop some of the pasta into both of your dishes.

The two of you take a seat at your counter, spending the meal talking and laughing. Nothing else, the moment has passed, but that doesn’t bother you. You enjoy Chris’ presence. His quick humour and thoughtful conversation.

It really is something that you could get used to, you decide.

After you’re done eating, you walk Chris over to the door, handing him his surplus of spice bottles and leftover spinach.

“Thank you for doing all this, seriously. The food was delicious, you’re seriously gifted. And also, thank you for covering for me, I really didn’t feel like listening to Minho die laughing over the burnt cookies,” you admit.

“It’s no problem, really,” Chris smiles. He shifts all the spices over to his right arm, letting his free hand fall down to his side. Softly, he takes your hand in his, letting your fingers intertwine.

“Listen,” he continues, shyly looking up from your hands to meet your eyes. “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, you’re welcome to come over for a proper dinner. You know, so I can show you what I can actually make when it’s not a last minute attempt at salvaging a meal.”

You smile a goofy, genuine grin. “That sounds good to me,” you say. Hesitantly, you lean forwards, planting a soft, innocent kiss on his lips.

As you break apart, he hums contently. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, thanks for today. You made my night, Y/N.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Chris.” You watch as he walks over to his apartment door, which is of course, only a few meters away from your own. When he disappears into his own apartment, you sigh, closing your own door behind you. You lean against the frame, letting out a shaky breath, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve held any genuine interest in someone, you feel almost giddy.

That is until you see Minho, leaning against the corner of the kitchen wall, watching you with his cheshire smirk.

“Dinner tomorrow, huh?” He asks, walking into the kitchen and scooping himself the last of the pasta.

“What about it?” You retort, not giving in to that pestering look in his eyes.

“Oh, nothing. I’m sure it’ll be good, considering Chan clearly made this,” Minho says, shoveling some of the pasta into his mouth.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, grabbing two wine glasses from the cupboard.

“Save it, the lady at the front desk told me you almost set the apartment on fire,” Minho laughs as you pour the wine.

You let out a groan, handing him his glass. “God dammit.”

“Don’t blame her though,” he smiles, leaning back and taking a sip. “I wouldn’t have believed you could have cooked that anyway.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Had me fooled for a second there though,” he says, patting you on the head. “But more importantly, you like Chan huh?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right. Nice hickey, by the way,” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

You pull up the collar of your shirt, casting him a glare. “Okay, maybe I do,” you shrug. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing,” he replies, before taking a second to think. “Just please don’t fuck him or anything tomorrow. Walls are thin.”

You laugh, taking your glass of wine and flopping yourself back down on the living room couch.

“Shut up, Minho.”

~

thanks for reading loves <3

[nctsjiho]

Your Fault

warnings: strong language, consumption of alchol, mention of death without actual death, very much angst

era: July 7th 2021

❀ NCT 127's 5th anniversary isn't a day to celebrate and be happy for everyone

To Doyoung:

“Happy 5th anniversary oppa!”

“I hope you and the boys are having a great time <3”

JiHo stared at her phone intently waiting for the “sent” at the bottom of her screen to turn into “read”. She had been staring at her phone like that for nearly an hour, yet nothing changed. The girl knew that the boys were busy, but somewhere she hoped that she’d hear from them. Besides the short “wished you could be with us” message she had received the evening before from Taeyong she hadn’t heard from anyone else. Of course JiHo was aware that the boys were busy, but was it a crime to feel left out and maybe want a phone call or something more than a “wished you could be with us” from anyone?

And so JiHo continued to stare at her phone, everything on the small screen getting progressively more blurry as time went on. Her eyes were straining, one almost pressed shut, the other slowly going cross-side. Her right hand, which wasn’t holding the phone, reached out to the glass bottle on her desk. A quick shake letting her know it was empty. So she reached for the other one, opening it skilfully with one hand – like she did with the other two bottles now empty on her desk – and bringing it up to her lips. “Must be nice hm~ Being an idol or whatever…”

“I’m glad you came over.” Sihyun, JiHo’s Esteem manager that lives with her, said as she grabbed the boy’s coat off his shoulders. The piece of clothing, along with his hair, slightly damp caused by the light drizzle outside. “JiHo’s been a bit sensitive and doesn’t let me in her room. She doesn’t want to talk to me at all.” Jaemin watched the woman’s face full of worry. He gave her a small reassuring smile and then glanced at the door leading to JiHo’s room. “I’ll try to talk to her.” Thanking Jaemin, Sihyun then excused herself, telling him she had to run some late night errands.

Not knowing what was happening behind the closed door of the bedroom, Jaemin knocked a few times. “Unnie~ Just leave me- leave me alone.” JiHo hiccupped between her words, her speech sounding a bit slurred. She had been drinking? JiHo?

Without a second thought Jaemin pushed the door open. A jumbled mess of protests escaped JiHo’s lips, but she froze in her chair as soon as her eyes locked with Jaemin. “What… are you doing here?” She muttered to the best of her abilities. “Coming to check up on you.” He neared the girl and poked at the bottles and the mess on her desk. “Clearly you need it.” His tone sounded very much disappointed and for a split second JiHo felt her heart ache, but she quickly turned defensive. “I do not!”

A sigh escaped deep from Jaemin’s chest and he pulled JiHo to sit on the edge of her bed next to him. “Since when do you drink?” It was quiet for a bit. JiHo looked at the bottle of the alcoholic beverage in her hand, swirling it around by circling her wrist and then started to giggle to herself. “A new hobby?” She turned to Jaemin, a big smile on her lips – however Jaemin could see the sadness behind it easily. “It’s fun. Feeling… Nothing! I can barely feel my… my lips.” Her body swayed from side to side prompting Jaemin to grab her by her shoulders and hold her in place. “It’s fun until you wake up with a hangover tomorrow.” He scoffed. “Can’t get a hangover if I don’t sleep.” She said, before turning to her desk. She then pointed at the box of another 9 bottles of alcohol next to it on the floor. “Or if I don’t stop drinking.” She grinned.

“Yah! What’s wrong with you?” Jaemin’s patience ran dry quickly. He just felt so furious seeing how badly JiHo was treating her own body. She never drank and now she was planning to drink 12 bottles of alcohol? Drinking herself straight into the hospital, and if it weren’t for Jaemin being here, maybe straight into her own grave. “This is strong alcohol! For all I know you can’t even handle it, so what made you decide to drink now huh?” He yelled, anger only rising watching the girl just stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

Those same eyes turned to look at her laptop, located on the desk she sat at earlier. The NCT 127 online fanmeeting being streamed, muted.

Of course Jaemin knew it was NCT 127’s 5th anniversary, he knew it must’ve affected JiHo in some way, even if she kept insisting she was going to be fine and was happy for the boys. She even said that she wasn’t “part of the group since debut, so it wouldn’t even be my 5th anniversary” and everyone just had to nod and smile.

“Is that a reason to potentially drink yourself to death?” Jaemin poked her side – maybe a bit too harsh – to gain her attention again; she seemed to be zoning out every few seconds. “What else was I supposed to do? I’m tired of keeping things in.” She sneered at him and it was almost as if she didn’t drink anything. She sounded much more coherent than just a minute earlier. “Aren’t you doing just that though? Drinking on your own. Not letting Sihyun noona in? We keep telling you to talk to us, yet all you do is keep things in. The hyungs even took you out to do stuff and get your mind off things yet you get home and do the thing you always do.”

JiHo felt every drop of alcohol leave her system as she heard the somewhat condescending tone in her friend’s voice. “What the fuck? So this is my fault-“ “Kinda, yes! You just sit here feeling sorry for yourself while everyone is worried over you! We’re your friends for a reason JiHo. There are so many people who care for you, just start fucking talking when you feel down like this.”

The blood inside of JiHo’s veins started to boil and at the same time she felt tears pricking behind her eyes. “You think it’s that easy? What am I supposed to say? That I feel upset that I can’t be with 127 now? Okay. Then what about it? Me telling you this won’t change shit!” “At least you should stop lying and stop telling everyone you’re fine when you’re not! Why do you continue keeping things a secret from everyone?” Both JiHo and Jaemin’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. “But I guess you’re good at that anyway.” He added in a mumble.

Once the words registered in JiHo’s mind, the bottle that started to hover towards her lips was quickly forgotten. “What do you mean by that?” Jaemin just shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze away from JiHo. “Jaemin? What do-“ “You were supposed to debut in 2016 with NCT U?” JiHo’s eyes widened and she pushed herself to stand up. “How’d you know-“ “Then they asked you to debut in 127? Also with us… In Dream?” “How do you know?” Was the only thing JiHo could say.

“Does it matter?” Jaemin yelled, standing up as well. “Why do you continue to keep secrets from us? Do you not trust us? Is that why you sit here alone? Drinking and crying alone.” The boy watched as JiHo stood in front of him wordlessly. He could see how his words were affecting her, but he wanted to be selfish for once. He wanted to let JiHo know how frustrating things were for him and his friends. He was well aware of how JiHo had her own worries and hardships, but if she never wanted to confide in anyone, then he was allowed to be mad right?

The only sound filling the room was both of their ragged breathing and the occasional shift from one foot to the other. The silence was almost deafening, a ringing shooting up JiHo’s clouded mind making her feel like she was going to lose it any second now. Her friend sending hurtful glares her way didn’t help ease the growing pain either.

“You’re right. I could’ve debuted in 2016, what about it?” JiHo whispered, afraid that her talking too loud would send surges of pain into her brain. “Why did you hide it from us? Why didn’t you say yes back then?” Jaemin interrogated her. “There was no reason to tell you if it didn’t happen. I didn’t debut so telling you I could’ve wouldn’t change a thing. I’m not in Dream, I didn’t debut in U and clearly now, I’m not in 127 either. Jaemin… It doesn’t matter anymore…” JiHo’s voice stayed as calm as possible.

“How long have you known Jaemin?” JiHo spoke up again as Jaemin didn’t say anything. She felt the tension grow exponentially, the pressure on her body and more noticeably her head increasing and bothering her more as well. “I heard it during that last meeting you had with Yebin noona and Mister Lee Soo Man…” JiHo let out a small chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief. “I guess we’re eavesdropping and keeping secrets from me as well.”

She brought the glass bottle still in her hands to her lips, throwing her head back, to down as much of the liquid as possible. Before she could finish it all in one go, Jaemin gripped the bottle and pulled it away from her. “It’s not the same, JiHo!”

The liquid rushed from between JiHo’s lips, making a wet patch on her grey sweatpants. She could feel her throat and lungs burning as she coughed, caused by the alcohol going down her windpipe instead.

Jaemin watched her with concern painting his features, his hand slowly caressing her back hoping it would ease her violent coughs. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He whispered and JiHo gave him a small nod as her body calmed down.

The two 00 liners stayed like that for a while, with Jaemin’s eyes burning at the back of JiHo’s downturned head. Even after JiHo’s body stopped shaking violently, Jaemin’s concern continued to grow. It was only when he noticed the drops, which only could be tears, fall onto her sweatpants and create even more wet spots, that he decided to step in.

Jaemin’s hand securely gripped JiHo’s shoulder and he pulled her up to face him. A gasp left the boy’s mouth as he watched large tears spill from his friend’s eyes. “Ji…” It proved incredibly difficult to speak when he was faced with a situation he wasn’t ready to deal with. Maybe Jaemin shouldn’t have confronted her the way he did. Maybe acting like everything was fine wouldn’t have caused him to witness JiHo at possibly the worst she has felt.

It became a full minute of Jaemin staring into JiHo’s pain- and tear-filled eyes, feeling like he could drown in them himself, before a loud pained sob brought him to reality. The sudden jolt of JiHo’s body forward made Jaemin act quickly and pulled the girl into his chest. His hand, just as quickly, found its way into JiHo’s slightly tangled hair.

“I’m… sor- so sorry.” JiHo sobbed into his chest, tears soaking through even the thicker material of the boy’s jumper. Jaemin could feel his sweater start to stick against his chest, yet what felt more uncomfortable than the damp piece of clothing was the feeling of JiHo’s body shaking in his hold.

As best as he could, Jaemin tried to soothe JiHo. Almost like taking care of a crying toddler, he swayed the girl from side to side. His lips were pressed against the shell of JiHo’s ear as Jaemin whispered affirmations into her skin. “Don’t apologise... Stop apologising.”

“I’m only bringing the team down-” “Shh JiHo. Stop that.” He told her, as his fingers continued to comb through her hair, slowly and carefully detangling it along the way. JiHo pressed her eyes tighter as even more tears spilled from her cheeks and pushed herself closer into Jaemin’s grasp.

Mouth agape, a sob that was building up in his own chest was threatening to fall from Jaemin’s own lips. “You don’t deserve any of this JiHo, you only deserve the best.” JiHo only shook her head, but didn’t dare to speak again. “You do... You really do.”

The night in the capital of South-Korea was never really that dark. Lights always seemed to find their way past the pulled back blinds of any building that wasn’t directly blocked by another one due to bad city planning. So even during the darkest time of day, even when all the lights inside have been dimmed, somehow, it was still light enough to see inside.

So when Jaemin pulled back to look at JiHo’s face, her eyes still tightly pressed shut - which pained him immensely - Jaemin could see the light reflecting off of her wet cheeks.

Feeling two hands being placed on her burning cheeks, JiHo finally decided to open her eyes again. A few more tears rolled over her cheeks onto Jaemin’s thumbs, but luckily no new ones seemed to form. “I’m sorry for everything, all this drama. It’s my fault.” Jaemin shook his head and pulled the girl back, this time to hide his own tears that were starting to form. “Please stop apologising, it’s not your fault.”

“But-” JiHo sighed, her arms found their way around Jaemin’s small waist. “I hate that it’s always about me. I don’t want to be this cliche ‘emotional girl with so many problems and everyone has to pay attention to her problems’. I don’t want that. I don’t want to burden you guys with that, but I also don’t want that kind of attention. I know people already hate me for being in a boy’s group. I don’t want my stupid problems to be the only thing that people assiociate me with NCT.”

“Your problems are not stupid JiHo. And though I understand what you’re saying, I think it’s worse to keep it in. If anything, keeping it in just makes us worry about you more and may get you more attention. JiHo I know things suck right now, and I can’t imagine how you’re feeling with everything going on right now, but… Please just talk to us when things are bothering you. We all love you.”

At those last words JiHo loudly sniffled back some stray tears. She pressed herself into Jaemin’s warm embrace and softly nodded her head. “From now on I will. I promise. And…” JiHo looked up at Jaemin, sending him a small smile that he gratefully reciprocated. “I love you guys too. You’re all I have here and that’s enough to make me stay.”

Jaemin’s hand resumed with his previous ministrations. A deep sigh left his lips as he rested his head atop of JiHo’s. “Everything will be just fine.” Jaemin pressed a kiss against JiHo’s hair. “As long as we stay together everything will be just fine.”

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Star Wars Wednesday

(This is an excerpt from my unfinished but fully outlined Reign of Vader fic, in which Darth Vader assassinates Palpatine and then finds out that unfortunately this means he actually has to rule. After Luke is captured by the Empire, Vader reveals both his heritage and a desire to fix things in the galaxy. Luke is wary, but it's not like he has anywhere to go)

Darth Vader was not a man of infinite patience, and the Ruling Council was growing ever nearer to discovering the limits of his tolerance. 

"Day-to-day procedures are a delicate matter, Majesty," Greejatus was saying, "It would be an unprecedented disaster to force change upon all offices all at once. May I recommend a gradual shift as your reign takes root?"

"Yes yes," Sate Pesage agreed. His eyes glittered out of his gaunt face with ambition. "This proposal to outlaw slavery, for instance-"

"-Is non-negotiable," Vader interrupted. "It was an idiot's decision to legalize it in the first place. My empire will have no need of slave labor."

"Of course!" Pesage bowed. He was beginning to sweat under that ridiculous hat of his. "We are eager to begin this journey into the future your reign promises, Majesty. But the galaxy is vast. Perhaps it is best to...phase the law in slowly? It takes time to bring new ordinances all the way to the Outer Rim."

Vader had heard quite enough for one day. 

"Enough. The decree goes into effect tonight." 

He stood, and all five members of the Council jumped a little. 

"You have until then to review the revised legal codes I have provided for you."

[[MORE]]

With a sardonic lilt to his voice, he added, "The rule of the Grand Vizier through the Moffs has ended, gentlemen. If you do not feel that you are adequately prepared for the task ahead, I will accept your resignation and begin the process of finding your successor."

He waved a hand. "In the next week, we begin hearings for the Alderaanian Massacre. You are dismissed."

There was a certain satisfaction in watching Palpatine's five advisers bowing and trembling on their way out. After decades of putting up with their snide comments and inane commands, it was nice to see the shoe on the other foot for a change.

Of course, they hadn't covered much. Just an overview of what the Imperial Ruling Council actually did. Once Vader mentioned that he intended to sell his secondary residence in the district and distribute the funds as reparations, the meeting had devolved into excuses and protests for the next two hours. Luckily, he was far too stubborn to pay any attention to their complaints.

While he had no strong feelings about most of his actions in the last nineteen years, neither hatred nor regret, he was willing to acknowledge that not all of his targets had been legitimate in a military sense. For Padme's sake, he would make amends if possible. 

Naturally, it was uncomfortable to try putting a price on life. But the sale of that ridiculous "castle" Palpatine insisted on him staying in would provide a good starting place.

It took about fifteen minutes of calculating, but ultimately Vader decided there was more than enough in Palpatine's personal accounts to cover about 17,000 wrongful death settlements, with additional funds in the cases of recurring medical bills. 

Arranging reparations for Alderaan would take more work. Vader quickly decided he was going to delegate that to the department of finances.

(They...did have a department of finances, didn't they? Surely Sidious hadn't done his own bookkeeping.)

With that settled, Vader's itinerary consisted primarily of a meeting with the Hands to make sure they knew their boundaries. After that, a remote consultation with a newly-renowned surgeon living in one of the lower districts. It would, unfortunately, take up the majority of the day. But for now, at least, he had two hours to himself.

The emperor closed his eyes and stretched out with his senses. It took several seconds before he was able to pinpoint his son's location. Luke's presence was dimmed, slightly. Muffled.

The reason for this became apparent the moment Vader found him.

Inside the library, on the lower level, Luke was sprawled across one of the ridiculous armchairs the nobles had favored. A book lay open on his chest, rising and falling gently. A small stack of texts encompassing everything from speeder repair to adventure novels sat on the floor, just next to where one of Luke's hands dangled off the edge of the arm rest. Clearly, he had been in the library for several hours before falling asleep. 

Sleep had softened the boy's features, painting him in a far more vulnerable light. The fear and caution of the previous night had been wiped away, leaving someone who seemed far too young, and far too small. How could he be twenty? How could Padme's baby already be twenty? 

It was tempting to leave him there. To let him sleep. But the chair was not the most supportive frame, nor was the library the most secure chamber of the palace. Reluctantly, Vader bent to touch Luke's cheek. 

"Luke," he said quietly, "This is hardly an appropriate place to sleep."

Luke's eyelids fluttered, but he did not fully awaken at once. Carefully, ever so carefully, Vader took hold of Luke's shoulders and guided him back into an upright position. 

"Your spine will thank me later," he said. 

Luke shifted, then opened his eyes with a groan. He didn’t seem to register Vader’s presence at first. One arm stretched up over his head, and the other came up to rub at his eyes.

“What time is it?” he yawned.

“Nearly noon,” answered Vader. The meeting with the Council had taken far longer than he would’ve liked. “Are you hungry?”

With a garbled sound, Luke waved a hand from side to side. “Don’t know yet?” he said in a still sleep-slurred voice.

After a few more seconds, he finally noticed just who had woken him. Instinctively, he straightened his spine, and looked a little bit nervous.

“Oh,” he said, very quietly. “H-hello, Father.”

“Hello, son.” Vader sounded amused. “Was your choice of reading that dull?”

After a moment, Luke nodded. He made a face. "I know there's supposed to be a famous musical made from this or something. But a whole chapter on how the sewer system of Ryloth's capital city works doesn't seem like good song material."

He jumped when Vader laughed. It was a warm, rich sound, utterly at odds with his austere appearance. 

"Poor boy!" He gently took the book from his son. "That was required reading for our literature studies when I was a boy. I loathed it. Very few of my peers sought it out voluntarily."

"I guess I can see why," Luke admitted. "But it seemed like it was going to be a good story."

"Then you are better served finding an abridged copy, I think," Vader chuckled. "Come. You should eat something."

Luke pushed himself up out of the chair. “Do I...need to put the books back?”

Vader leaned back on his heels. He looked at the books, then at the shelves. “I...will leave that to your best judgement. I do not know where you got them from.”

It was such a normal sounding conversation! Why?! 

Why did you have to be like...like this?! Luke fought a surprising burst of frustration. I have no idea how to talk to you! 

Serious and formal one moment, then laughing the next? Vader? Laughing?! It was as if the man he’d met on Cymoon and the man idly examining his stack of books were two completely different people.

Luke set the books on the console with the Holonet terminal eventually. Vader had suggested that he learn the cataloguing system of the room at a later time. At least that seemed to mean that he would be allowed to go back to the library again. Luke thought about his conversation with Artoo. Perhaps his father was trying to be kind to him. Whether that kindness would extend to anyone else was a different matter.

“I thought you were still meeting with dignitaries or something,” Luke said.

He trailed along behind Vader up an ornate staircase with his hands in his pockets. He was still uncomfortable walking too closely to the man. For all that he acknowledged that the new emperor was, indeed, his father, he was still a force to be reckoned with. 

Luke took a moment to internally groan at his unintended pun. Han would probably have elbowed him in the ribs for saying something like that. Chewie would think it was hilarious. 

Luke’s attempt to stay safely out of range failed quite suddenly. Vader deliberately slowed his steps so that Luke couldn’t hang back without being extremely obvious about it. He didn’t want to offend the emperor, so he tried to ignore his fight or flight instincts shaking his insides and kept pace with his father.

“I have several more meetings to endure today,” Vader said casually. “But the most onerous of those has been dealt with.”

This was not quite true. The Ruling Council was too full of Palpatine loyalists. Just intimidating them into compliance would only work for so long. They had connections, and they had money, and that could prove to be a headache if not dealt with sooner. Vader needed to replace at least three of them.

He had almost considered appointing Luke as Vizier in Amedda’s place, but had quickly thought better of it. Such a position would almost guarantee that Luke would never have time to fly again. Cutting a Skywalker off from the stars for good seemed too cruel. 

His son had not had the childhood he could have had if his mother had lived. If Palpatine had died much sooner. Let him enjoy his youth while he could.

But the problem of finding a Ruling Council that Vader could trust would still be waiting.

“The stupid hat club, right?” Luke asked.

He was unsettled by Vader’s proximity. Vader could sense that. He understood: the armor had been made to terrify. Perhaps one day he would have the option of seeing his son with his own eyes, but for now the boy would have to acclimate himself to the sight.

It was not often that Vader found himself cursing the cold, impersonal nature of his mask. He would have liked to smile at his son.

“Yes. The...stupid hat club.” He settled for letting his amusement be clearly heard in his voice. “That is not an inaccurate description. They run the day-to-day matters of ruling an Empire. But as they were all close to the former ruler, I find that I’d rather not trust them in matters of delegating governance.”

Luke grimaced. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea,” he agreed.