#he gets up early to slick back his hair a bit before his partner wakes up

[quiveringdeer]

No but fr, we've never seen Porco with his hair not slicked back and it's driving me nuts! 😶

frfr like lemme see him lookin soft and maybe even a bit frumpy, in his book, give it to me!!!

I forget who, cause obviously my memory sucks balls, but someone in fandom has drawn PoPo with his hair down. Can someone tag them for them to add?

[chain-link-smut]

Hello Beautiful Beasties!

Smut-tember 23, Day 3: Sky x Reader(Fem) - Sleepy Morning Sex

Summary: With no rush to the morning, you and Sky indulge in some sweet sleepy passion.

Word count: 979

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There was a warm weight against your back as you began to stir awake from your deep sleep. Warm, even breaths tickled the back of your neck, reminding you of who was with you. Turning over, you are met with a handsome face. Sky is sound asleep with an arm wrapped around your low back. He hardly moved away from you all night, not that you would ever complain of that. His full lips were barely parted and you couldn't help wanting to kiss them again. A single kiss wouldn't wake him, right? You took the chance.

His lips were soft, still holding the sweet taste of the last night's drinks. When you gave the second kiss, he hummed with a smile. The arm around you tightened, bringing you closer. He lazily kissed you back, making it a bit sloppy when his tongue grazed your bottom lip. Wanting to see how far your sleepy head partner was willing to go this early, you captured his bottom lip between yours, giving it a slight tug.

His eyes looked to have stars in them as they open. "Well g'morning to you too." He leaned forward into your lips with no real urgency outside of just wanting to. You slide your palms up over his chest and shoulders. Your fingers play with his sandy blond, wavy hair before burying them in it. The gently scratching to his scalp and the oh so nice pull had him breathless. His hand traced along your bare side to the only piece of clothing you had on: thin, silky, deep purple panties. His thumb hooked the laced hem, dragging it down one hip. Eyes still closed, you felt his hand slowly make its way inside, palm cupping you. He left his hand there just to feel the most intimate part of you.

Enjoying the comfort of having Sky so close and the excitement of what could happen, you keep your slow languid lip-lock steadily going. He knew you too well though. His fingers stayed on the outside of your entrance, stimulating you until you were only focused on his movements down below. Before you knew it he had you giving soft whimpers and hips rolling to get his fingers into your now soaked entrance.

Wordlessly, he nudged you over onto your back. Sky followed you to press some of his weight onto you, knowing that it's a form of comfort for you. In this new position you were able to spread your legs for him, not that he needed a bigger invitation. A single thick finger split your folds, coating it in your slick fluid. A second digit joined in to part the way, casually circling just at the rim of entering. The touch was relaxed, soothing you rather than ramping you up.

Sky's here and there open mouthed kisses left your neck and collarbone damp and he followed up with blowing cool air against the spots, raising goosebumps immediately. Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed below your ear. He let out a chuckle to your reaction, winning him a playful slap to his arm.

Dipping his fingers into the wet heat, your mouth opened and gave him the opportunity to have his tongue caress yours. He swallowed the moans you gave when his thumb found your button of nerves, giving it a swirl. Your legs involuntarily twitch when swiped over it. He didn't do it too often, but often enough that you were panting. The two rough digits inside you deliberately stroked your walls sluggishly. The constant ministration had you wanting to cum already and every time you thought you were close, he would ease out so his fingertips were the only part of him still giving attention to your overly stimulated entrance. Sky knew what he was doing and you had no interest in telling him to stop or hurry him along.

You lost count of how many times he got you right up to the edge of bliss, only to humble you back down. All this wasn't just getting your desires to rise, clearly, as Sky rutted his fully hard cock against your leg. He whispered a desperate plea in your ear, "Sweetheart, I want you."

Stroking his cheek lovingly, you asked, "How do you want me?"

"Turn over for me." Sneaking in one more messy kiss, you turned for him, placing a pillow partly under your hips, one knee bent. You trilled when he draped himself fully over your back. All else left your mind as you focused on the warmth of Sky's chest and stomach. His own legs pushed yours wider, then a hand slid down your backside to between your legs. He scooped a bit of your slick into his hand to lather his cock. You heard the little pops of fluid as his hand stroked over the head and down the shaft. You tilted your hips as he pressed the thick blunt head of his cock to your wanting hole. He released a shuttered breath as he was engulfed by your heat.

Arms wrapped around your midsection and chest, forehead laid in the crook of your neck, Sky begins to plunge further into your tight wall of muscles. The rhythm is set and you both made no effort to hide the sounds of your pleasure between the sheets. As the need to release grew, so did Sky's pace until with one last breathless thrust he painted your insides white with his cum. His fingers found the button of nerves again, forcing you to release your delayed orgasm.

Thoroughly worn out, Sky pulled you with him so you both could rest on your sides. He kissed your dewy skin, catching his breath. It was going to be a lazy day at this rate, but it was mornings like this that made you want to wake up in Sky's arms.

Keep it Naughty you Beautiful Beasties!🖤

[faegoddessog]

  Fantasy Come True  Ch 8/8

Chapter 8  : Home... to our house

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, cramps, period sex (no blood), massage, fingering, slow fucking, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll) cock warming, public sex, 'can't be bothered to take your clothes off' fucking, hard and fast from behind, verbal abuse, breakup angst, Austin is just too fucking sweet to handle.

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on. 

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only,  here there be lemons.

A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Chapter 8:  Home… to our house.

When you both actually wake up,  you can’t believe it’s only Saturday. Austin makes you coffee and tea, then sets out a plate of non-breakfast for you both to nibble on and you get to work. You end up taping one your two scenes with Austin off screen, reading the opposing lines. Upon review, it is so good, better than what you originally had in mind.  

You help Austin with his project for a couple hours. He is already off script, just wanting to hone bits and pieces. You are amazed at how phenomenal he is. He shies away from the kissing scene. Telling you that if he starts kissing you… he’s not gonna stop.

“Plus, I can tell you are sore love,” he says, kissing you lightly on the forehead. 

 You insist that you aren’t exactly sore, just delicious twinges that remind you insistently of last nights’ activities. 

You finish eating the early dinner you ordered in, when the cramp hits, and all is made quite clear. Your eyes close and you blow out short breaths. 

“Are you Ok, Angel?” concern written on his face.

“Well that answers why I was so fucking horny last night.” you say almost to yourself.

“What? That wasn’t a product of me admitting I’m head over heels in love with you plus my extra sexy skills?” he says, only partly teasing. 

“Yes, for sure, and,” you frown, “I’m about to get my period. Fuck! “ you bend over in pain as another one hits.

“Princess,“ he rushes to you, rubbing your low back with a sure hand. “Will you let me take care of you? I have a tried and true method of making cramps go away. And I promise that blood doesn't bother me, that’s what showers are for, sweetheart.” 

Wow, this man is truly amazing. 

“I’m not bleeding yet, just cramping,” you say shaking your head, “but how are you real, my Austin, and not a dreamed up god of a man or an angel or something?” 

He just huffs out breath and shakes his head, closing his eyes. 

“C’mon, let's get you upstairs and into a hot bath.”

……..

Austin’s chest is so solid behind you, the lavender and chamomile oil scents drifting up from the tub are almost effortlessly relaxing. 

“It’s what I use when I just need to relax,” he had said as the drops hit the surface of the hot water with tiny plops. You had watched the oils spread in slick concentric rings in front of you in  the soft glow of the candles he lit before climbing in behind you.  

Now the fingers of his left hand play at being laced in between the fingers of yours, his thumb delicately stroking your own. His right hand gently pulls your head down against his shoulder, petting a stray hair away from your face and back into the hasty bun on the back of your head. You sigh, relaxing. 

Another cramp hits, you suck air in through your teeth, your body tensing.

“Oh hunny,” his right hand drifts to your abdomen, his palm going in gentle clockwise circles. His left rubbing against your hip and along your thigh. How does he know it’s so sore there? 

The cramp dissipates quickly as his hands touch you.  It’s fucking sorcery. 

You sit in companionable silence, Austin effectively petting the cramps away as they come. 

“Are you ready now?” he asks softly after about twenty minutes in the bath.

“There’s more?” you ask incredulously. 

“Of course, my Princess, I hate that you hurt, I want to do everything I can to help you.” 

“Austin, just you touching me has helped tremendously. Thank you.” “Well that is my plan,” his hands go to the sides of the oversized tub. Water drips off his gorgeous physique as he gets out. 

“‘I’ll be right back,” he says, wrapping a towel around himself.

He is gone for about ten minutes, doing… who knows what. You lay back in the tub that is strangely empty without him. You will never be able to take a bath without Austin again, this is simply the superior way to bathe, cramps or no.

He comes back quickly with a huge warm fluffy towel that he must have pulled straight from the dryer. He wraps you in it, rubbing you head to toe. He leads you to the bed, where he has laid  out pillows and more towels ‘just in case”, he winks at you. You melt. Why does his wink turn  your bones to jello?

He positions you face down, with a pillow under your hips. You pussy is a little exposed, but the gentle pressure on your belly actually feels good. Another warm towel drapes over you. 

He gets massage oil out and kneels on the bed straddling your legs. Folding the towel out of the way, he starts with long slow strokes, spreading the oil over your hamstrings, buttocks and low back. His thumbs pull slightly at your crack, opening you up just a bit as he glides over your ass. His strong hands knead each of your legs up and down several times. His fingers and thumbs dig into your glutes and you can’t help but moan in pleasure. 

Normally, when you get massages, you try to keep your vocalizations to a minimum, but here you don’t feel shy about it at all, you want to let him know just how good it feels. He presses his knuckles into your low back, gliding along either side of your spine.

You groan.

 When he leans over you, his semi hard cock brushes against your butt cheeks. 

Sweet Mama Jones, that is a new sensation during a massage. What you hope is just your natural lube floods your insides, he feels so good. 

His hands slide from your back, over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart, his thumbs grazing your lips. He adds more oil to his hands, sliding them gently up and down your pussy lips. Then he starts all over again, backs of your thighs, glutes, low back, down to your crotch again. When he does it for a 3rd time, you open your legs for him in anticipation of his fingers on your pussy. 

“Now, my darling Angel,  I don’t want to make you hurt more, so if it does, just tell me to stop.” He is rubbing back and forth gently, fingertips barely circling your clit on the down stroke. 

“This isn’t about safe words or pushing you past some limit.” He slides a slow finger just barely inside you, every move is slow and gentle. It’s perfectly what you need right now, relaxation seeps into you. Your moans come out as low ‘mmmm’s and breathy ‘oh yeah’s. It just feels good. Who would’ve thought.  

“Don’t even worry about an orgasm, Princess,  just relax and let me make you feel good, my love.” He goes back to your glutes and your low back for a minute or two. 

Weirdly, his words are like the key clicking in the lock. His insistence of orgasm being irrelevant turns you on so much. As he nears your vulva again, your hips open up to him and you find your back arching in an attempt to convey what you want. Of course he notices and of course he gives it to you, gliding his oiled fingers against you. Afterall, this isn’t about teasing and taunting you, only about making you relax and feel good.

You turn your head, lifting your shoulders just a little. You can see him out of the corner of your eye, naked and kneeling over you. Even the fraction of him you can see is a turn on. 

“Austin baby, are you hard?” you ask in a quiet tone.

“Yes,” he simply says.

“Good. I need you in me, my Austin,”  you reach back and brush your fingertips against his knee. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you,” he sounds hesitant. 

“Yes I am, oh god yes,  please. Just go slow and be gentle,” you tone isn’t begging, more definitive. 

“Yes Ma’am.” The mattress bends under your legs as he walks his knees forward. He leans over you, his body making contact with yours, but holding himself up, not wanting to crush you. He moves his hips in a circle, his cock brushing against your buttocks. His hips lift and his shaft falls down between your legs and against your wetness.  Behind you, you hear a closed mouth moan. You reach both hands back and spread your cheeks apart for him. His tip is just at your entrance. 

“Ok my Princess, I’ll go slow, but if it hurts you gotta tell me. Remember, if you don’t cum it’s just fine, as long as you feel good.” He says in a deep voice just behind your ear. 

You nod. 

Then he pushes so slowly, not even all the way in and sits up a bit on his knees. The angle is perfect as it doesn’t put too much pressure on your uterus. Then the fucking magic begins. His thumbs rest on the joint between your back and hip and he starts massaging in ever widening circles. It is unreal how good it feels. He moves his cock slowly, deliberately in and out, but not deep. Thumbs digging in. He is a wizard and you are the subject of his marvelous spell.  You feel an insidious warmth spread through your pelvis, and after a little while, you snake your hand between you and the pillows. Rubbing gentle circles around your clit. 

You feel yourself pushed closer and closer until your orgasm spills up and out of you just as slow. An overflowing pitcher of endorphins spreading through your system like spilled milk. Your whole body shudders in joy.

“Better love?” he rubs up and down your back in long strokes. 

He pulls out as you roll over. You open your arms, wanting him close. 

“Oh god yes,” your whole body feels relaxed and happy as he settles down next to you. Cradling your head against his chest. 

“What about you?” you reach for his still hard cock, covered in your slick.  

“Oh this isn’t about me right now hun, I’m happy to make you feel better.” he intercepts your hand. 

“But that was amazing Austin, I’ve never had anyone do anything like that for me before. I want to repay you.” You lace your fingers through his hand.

“Another time my darling Princess, just rest now.” He kisses your forehead.  

You had never slept so soundly. 

Your flow starts the next morning as Austin feeds you breakfast.  It turns out to be the easiest period you’ve ever had.  

You decide not to work on the comedic scene, opting to wait until next time. When you tell Austin this, he smiles almost shyly at you. 

“I love it when you say next time,” his voice and eyes soft. “Oh yeah, that reminds me! Would you be interested in going to a party next Friday? I usually don’t go to them, but this is one of those big shindigs that I should probably be at, especially with my new project on the horizon.  If you aren’t ready, I totally understand.”

“I would freakin’ love to,” the idea of going out in the public eye on purpose with Austin is thrilling if a bit daunting, plus maybe you can do the whole rub elbows/ shake hands make deals  business deal thing. 

 “I have no idea what I’ll wear though, my closet is pretty mundane,” you say. 

“I believe I told you that I would take you shopping, plus I owe you panties. Are you feeling up to it today?” he asks.

Surprisingly, after all the … well… all the Austin, you are feeling really good, and your flow isn’t nearly as bad as it usually is. So you agree. 

He takes you to one of those fancy boutiques where they give you a private room and serve you drinks and bring you all the clothes to try on. It’s a little overwhelming at first, Austin orders you some sparkling water, knowing alcohol isn’t your jam.

Oh, and thank the lord for the body positive movement, everyone you meet is just so nice and supportive.  Austin is sitting on a little couch with a drink in his hand, smiling at how you are getting pampered. 

They whisk you away to a dressing room, trying to get the tea on you and Austin. You shrug and smile in an ‘I know but I’m not telling’ sort of way. Luckily they are cool and help you try on several things. A couple you feel comfortable enough to go out and show Austin. He nods, says you look nice. 

Then you step out of the dressing room in a white satin blouse with pearl buttons down the front. The deep V neck shows off the girls. It’s not quite scandalous, but enough that you feel sexy. The back yoke is non-existent and has, instead, black satin ribbons sewn at the neckline and the the top of the bra line creating stripes of ribbon, skin, ribbon skin. It’s tucked into a high waisted black tulip cut skirt that hits you at the knee. Just under the subtle offset downwards V in the waistline, the fabric is gathered and twisted at the front of the hip.  Which flows down into the positively libertine slit that peels back over your thigh. You were shocked at the overall effect of it in the  mirror of the dressing room, you would never have even dared to try this on, but the person helping you knew exactly what they were doing. As you step out, you know it's not just you when you see Austin’s breath catch. The subtle widening of his eyes, raising of his eye brow and nodding of his head as he tries to hide biting his lip.

“You look amazing, but how does it feel?” he asks. 

Fuck, how is he so perfect? 

You move around, sit down next to him, put your hand on the knee of his crossed legs,

“It’s actually good,” you say kind of surprisingly. The waist is not too tight when you sit, even the strappy heeled sandals are comfortable. 

The salesperson motions for you to stand. Austin watches your ass as you walk to the three way mirror. 

“This really fits you beautifully. And if we tailor the shirt right here,” they tuck the side seam together, “it’d really create that perfect curvy side silhouette with no rumples in the fabric.” 

“As long as it’s still comfortable, I’d love it,” you comment.

“Girl, I got you, contrary to popular belief, we can look amazing and be comfy at the same time,” they say with a wagging finger.

“We’ll take them,” says Austin quickly with a glimmer in his eye, “when will it be ready.” 

…

Austin drops you off at your apartment later that night. He is doing his best to hide his reluctance, hanging on to the hope that he can convince you to stay with him sooner rather than later. He is planning on picking you up on Friday morning to get your outfit for the party that night. 

It was really hard to walk into your apartment. Austin's words before you walked away from the car keep bounding around inside your head. “I may just keep you… so be ready Princess.” 

Your partner was right where you left him on the bed, playing video games. You wondered if he even moved, he gets so testy when he doesn’t see the sun. 

“Any luck?” he asked. 

“Yeah, we got one of the scenes taped, the other we’ll do later.”

“Only one? In three days? That's ridiculous . Why does everything always take you so long?” Clearly he hasn’t been outside or moved enough, that demon side of him is rearing its ugly head. 

“Yeah well that’s what it’s like-” You almost call him babe, but just… can’t. “Plus I had cramps.” 

“Oh no, well that sucks, so no banging for me huh?” he says, knowing you hate that term. 

Your “Nope,” has never been so multifaceted before. You shake your head, turn your back and walk to the kitchen. You realize you simply just can’t live like this anymore, you have seen the light and you won’t live in darkness. Something has to change and after more than a decade, it won’t be him. 

You spend the next few days mentally cataloging what you would pack and take with you.  It’s actually a nice escape, in between texts from Austin, which you actually changed to his right name. You find that, aside from your clothes and a few momentos from childhood and things that remind you of your mother, you don’t really want most of this stuff. You don’t want the old baggage anymore. You even pack up a few  things and take them to the thrift store. 

On Wednesday, you tell your partner that you will be gone starting on Friday probably all weekend.

“Again!? What are you cheating on me?” he asks, eyes narrowed. “It’s not cheating if it’s with Austin Butler,” you say with a genuine smile.

“Oh yes, of course… your perfect Auuuustin,” he teases cruelly, he's always pissy when you are on your period.  You don’t really care though, not anymore.   Because Austin is perfect, and he is yours.

You just shrug him off. 

“Whatever, weirdo. At least be sure to bring back some leftovers this time.” he says walking into the bedroom, unable to rile you.

‘Fat fucking chance,’ you think. 

You flash to Austin asking you to live with him. It’s feeling more and more tempting to just leave right now. 

‘And what about your security, your future safety?’ fucking practicality, ruining your adventurous  moment. 

…..

Austin hands the keys to the valet, then walks around to open your door. You step out to a myriad of flashes. If not for Austin’s smile at you and his fingers threaded through your own, you’d be terrified. You walk what feels a little like a gauntlet.  Austin has his game face on and yours is neutral like you guys talked about on the way over. 

“Don’t give them anything,” he had said. 

Paparazzi at the gate are yelling his name, asking who you are. You know, intellectually, that this is very mild, but it’s still a little intimidating. But you figure, if shy Austin can handle it, so can you. 

The party is in full swing, people with drinks everywhere in the big old Hollywood house. Austin clings to your hand like a lifeline at first. You aren't sure if it’s for you or for him. He relaxes as he greets people, and introduces you as his date. He is SO charming and somehow remembers everyone’s name and what they might be working on. It’s like he did homework for this party. 

You turn on all your own charm. You are chatting in an easy friendly way. It’s easy with Austin by your side, which he is, all night long. People are actually nice and welcoming. 

“I see why he likes you,” says a lady in your ear.

An official photographer is wandering around, taking pictures. You both pose for him, he asks your name. You give him your stage name. 

After an hour or so of rubbing elbows with people,  you both make your way out to the pool area. There is a big name DJ, people are dancing and drinking and some are high on… whatever. It’s loud and the energy is crazy. 

“I like this music, but it’s a little too much right now,” Austin yells in your ear. 

You notice an empty balcony off the end of the house and nod your head up that way. Austin follows your gaze and returns to your eyes with a little grin that says, “I like the way you think”. 

You covertly find your way up to the room that opens up onto this private balcony. 

You don’t notice, but Austin locks the door behind him. Inside, the music is muted, and the comparable quiet is a balm to both your ears. The room is set up to be an office. A big desk and book shelf and a couple comfy chairs fill the room. 

“You are amazing, Princess,” Austin gathers you in his arms, “It’s like you are made for this sort of thing.” 

“Thank you, darling,” you say, draping your arms around his neck, “But you, you make it look easy.” 

“I’m exhausted, too many people. I just need a little break to recharge.” His lips press to yours. The kiss starts out light, but gets deeper. A tell-tale firmness rises against your hips.

“You want to know why I like this skirt?” he looks down at you through half lidded eyes,”and why I wouldn’t let you wear any of the ten new pairs of panties I bought you?”

Your top teeth bite lightly at your bottom lip as you nod. You had been wondering when he was going to make this move, not that you know what it is. You had been expecting something in the car on the way over, but he had been the perfect gentleman all evening. Much to your throbbing pussy’s dismay. 

A most debauched  grin slides across his face. His hand traces a line up your exposed leg, right up the slit, triggering moisture to tingle inside you. Then as he pulls you closer, both hands slide around behind unclasping and unzipping your skirt.

“Austin…” you aren’t sure you are comfortable taking your clothes off here. 

“Trust me,” he says.

He grabs the waistband and twists the skirt back to front and rezips it.  The slit up your back side, barely covering your ass. 

“This was the first thing I wanted to do when I saw you in it,” he says, reaching around and sliding his hand up the slit again and under the fabric. His fingers play at the tuck of your ass. 

“C’mon,” he leads you out to the balcony. The railing is made of thick stone balusters that provide a modicum of privacy, from the waist down anyway. Only one side is open to the party below.  

“Here,” he guides you to lean forward against the balustrade, as though watching the revelry. The music is somewhat less loud here, the speakers aimed toward the center of the house. At least you can hear each other.  As you lean, the slit in your skirt slides up, your ass and pussy completely accessible to him from behind. The night is a little chilly, at least for LA. 

He cuddles you from the side, his right hand on your low back. He casually talks about the people down below, observing the human behavior while his hand slides down, rubbing your labia. 

“No big reaction now Princess, we can't let any stray onlookers know that your sweet pussy is all exposed for me back here,” he says with a smile.

You nod, your face as passive as you can make it as his fingers play at your cunt, spreading your wetness around. 

His other hand has worked his pants open, his tip just barely exposed.  

“Burrr,” he says in your ear.

“Need me to warm that for you?” you say casually. Your mind is buzzing with the idea of him inside you at such a public and potentially exposed place. 

“Oh I was hoping you’d pick up on that.” He slides in behind you, You spread your legs a little and the head of his cock rubs in your wet pussy. He leans over your back a little and points down at the crowd with a smile on his face. He is close to your ear as though he is just trying to be heard.  

“Slowly now baby, push back, open to me,” he is saying. His cock finds its way to your entrance, wet with excitement. 

Slowly he pushes in. God you want to flutter your eyelids, tilt your head back and moan he is stretching you so beautifully. But you just smile, your hands gripping the stone railing. Once he is deep in, you both stand up a bit, testing it out. He is so long it actually works. 

“Fuck you are warm, Princess,” he begins to sway a little to the music. His arms around you as though he is keeping you warm when it is actually the other way around. 

He gives you tiny little thrusts that reseat him inside you but that look just like dancing. He is driving you batty with this teasing, and you love it.  All you can do is clench your pussy down on him.

You stay that way for a couple of songs. Austin in you, holding you. Your head laid back on his shoulder. Your hands laced into his. It’s the most private of public moments. It’s sweet and sexy. As he sways back and forth, he is subtly shifting, pressing his hips into you nearly involuntarily. After a bit, he lets himself slip out of you and tucks himself back into his pants. 

You make a little sad mewling sound that you assume he doesn’t hear. But he does see the slight pout on your face that goes with it. 

“Wait ‘till I get you home,” he whispers in your ear, “I might just ruin that skirt.”  He gives you a little smile and a lift of his eyebrow before taking you back inside by the hand. 

You stayed for another hour or so. All the way home his hand is on your exposed thigh, painting small circles and lines on your inner thighs, dragging his fingers up and resettling his palm higher. Periodically he drags his pinky next to your labia, drawing a tiny line of wetness away and your breath from your body.  

You two don’t talk, he just drives and you just watch him. He is so damn beautiful, it makes you ache. Your fingers trace over the skin of his hand and wrist. Thoughts of his soon to be naked body on yours, his hands touching more than just your thigh, his scrumptious lips any and everywhere. These keep you licking and biting your lip. The sexual tension in the car is practically gelatinous by the time he pulls into the driveway.  

He parks a little haphazardly in the garage, gets out of the car and slams the door. Suddenly you are slightly worried that he might be mad, at what you don’t know. He whips open your door and offers you his trembling hand, nostrils flaring. 

“Austin, I -” he cuts you off short with a held up finger, tight lips and sizzling eyes that glance up and down your body. Oh… this is him trying to hold onto control…. Oh… oh my.

Without uttering a word, he pulls you with long strides through to the backyard.. 

Once you are next to the saltwater pool, by the patio table, he turns around abruptly to you. Shaking hands frame your face. 

“We started this outside, we’re finishing it outside,” he growls. 

You just nod, you are more turned on than you thought possible by his passionate fierceness. 

His lips take yours, his tongue insistent in your mouth.  

Your fingers are undoing the buttons on his dark blue button-down. His own do the same to the pearls on your blouse. You run your fingers in the hollow between his pecs, feeling the sprinkling of blonde hairs there. You kiss down his neck and chest to his nipples as his hands partially untuck your blouse. Your tongue plays with his nipple, thumb rubbing across the other,  as his fingers deftly undo the clasp of your bra.  You moan in pleasure against his skin as his hands rub along the skin of your bra line and cup your breasts.

“I love those fucking sounds,” he says low and intense. 

You look up at him, a whimper escapes you unbidden. He is towering over you in his heeled boots. The relative dark of the night casting shadows across his face. His fucking perfect face. 

He sits down on the edge of one of the patio chairs and pulls you forcibly between his legs. He doesn't bother to take your top all the way off, just pushes your loose bra up off your tits as he grasps them. 

His breath sounds a  deep, appreciative ‘ohhhh’ as he looks at your bountiful chest in his hands. Your roles reverse, as he raises his eyes to you now from below; lustful and libidinous. 

“These gorgeous tits have been teasing me all night long,” his voice is thick with desire,”Every time I looked at you, I wanted to rip your neckline open and suck on them.”

Then his mouth is wide on one breast, taking as much of your nipple and areola into his mouth as he can, his tongue lolling against you. 

Your fingers rake through his hair and drape around his neck. 

He pulls off with a low pop. His hand rolls your tightening, wet nub in his palm as he sucks the other side. 

Soft ‘ohhs’ and moans escape with your breath.  

He switches back and forth, flicking his tongue against your nipples one time, then sucking harder the next. Each new sensation sends new little jets of pleasure shooting from your tits to your pelvis and pushes more little moans from your mouth. You can feel your juices bubble from your pussy, lubing your inner thighs. 

He locks his wild eyes with yours and unzips the skirt slowly. It’s as though taking his time is the only way to control himself, to keep him from tearing it off you.  You assume he’s gonna slip it off, but instead, he turns it front to back again, leaving it undone this time so it rides high, your ass exposed. 

Even in the fervor of his desire, he raises an inquiring eyebrow up at you. 

“Yes,” you breathe out, nodding. Yes for what? You don’t know and you don’t care as long as it involves him. Austin can do anything he likes to you.

Abruptly you are bent over the patio table, the porcelain tile cool on your exposed breasts. You don’t remember him standing up. You hear the zipper of his fly. You arch your ass back and look invitingly over your shoulder at him. 

“Oh god Princess, I’ve needed you since the balcony,” his shirt hangs open between the edges of his suit jacket, framing his lean torso. His hand is in his boxers, pulling his cock out.

“Do it, my Austin,” you say back, just as needy.

He rubs his tip against your folds. 

“Oh my god you are so fucking wet,” he moans, brow knit together. He pushes his hardness deep in between your wet inner thighs, his tip against your clit. You smile as your thighs squeeze together. Yielding, for the moment to his deep hunger, he thrusts fast and sharp between your legs. Vocalizing in grunts. He quickly pulls away after a dozen or so, breathing through his mouth as though to control himself. 

You step your legs apart. Your ass is perfectly framed by the slit in your skirt. It’s what he has wanted since he saw you in the store last weekend. You shake your ass a little, inviting him to delve into you. 

He does. 

Soft open sounds lilt from him as he pushes in slow. In, in, in, as far as he can. His hips are smashed against your ass. FUCK he feels so damn good in you. Right at the end he gives a little extra thrust. You squeak, jerking a little against the table.  Then out  just as slow, both of you savoring every centimeter of contact. 

Once he is in deep again, he leans over your back,  unsteady fingers brush your hair aside and over your shoulder.

“You are so incredible, my gorgeous night goddess.” He pulls your chin around, your spine twisting to look at him. “Making me want you all night long in this slutty- little- skirt.” He stresses the last three words with thrusts.  His mouth is on yours as he pulls out half way and pushes in again with a little grunt before letting up. “You don’t know how much will power it took to just be in you earlier and not fuck you.” His left arm wraps around your shoulder. His hand splays over your sternum then pulls you more upright. His forefinger strokes lightly at the hollow of your throat. “I’m going to fuck you now though, hard.” 

You are caught like a fly in a web, a wet and willing sacrifice to his appetite.  

“Do you remember your word, Princess?” his voice sounds deliciously dangerous. 

You nod, not that you’ll need it. One hand wraps around his wrist, the other spreads on the cool porcelain. 

“Fuck me,” you say demandingly. You’ve needed him too, walking around with a wet pussy all night, making nice with industry people when all you wanted was a private spot and Austin.  

You can’t see the deviant smile that spreads across his face, but can hear it in his sinful chuckle. 

Then he is pounding into you from behind, pulling you onto him as much as he is fucking into you. It’s hard, it’s fast, it’s so wickedly good. Your tits are bouncing up and down. You give yourself over, completely at the mercy of his carnal desire, not anticipating an orgasm in this position.

“Oh fuck yes, so good, so tight, so mine,” his teeth are clenched next to your ear. 

His words make your head tilt back, mouth open, eyes closed. ‘His’.

His right hand dives between your legs, his thrusting motion giving rise to the perfect friction between the pads of his fingers and your soaked clit. 

You clench down on his cock. 

The squelchy wet sounds and the slap of his hips onto your ass make your closed eyelids flutter and an unexpected tightening starts in your pelvis. Not to mention his grunting ahhhs and groaning ohhhh’s  reverberating in your ear. “Yes, yes, fuck me hard, Austin,” you hear yourself almost whining. 

 He is, he does and he keeps doing it.

“Fuck yeah, That’s it,” he moans as he feels you get wetter as you get closer.

“Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah,” you chant as your fingers tighten on his arm. 

“That’s my girl,” he seethes in your ear, “Fuckin’ cream my cock baby, I need it, I want it all over me.” 

That’s it, the trigger, the button in this dirty little scene. You tighten, you shake , you cum screaming, knees buckling. You are held in the carnal web by his strong arm, impaled on his glorious cock. 

“OH yes, fuck fuck  FUUUUUCK!” he thrusts deep into you as you cum, filling you with his. 

You both are bent over the table, panting, his arms on either side of you holding himself up. After a minute of catching your collective breath,  you start giggling. You are just so high as he pulls out of you, dripping cum You turn around in his arms. His mouth is curled up in a smile. 

“What?” he giggles back. 

“I’m just…. happy… I’m happy,” you say more to yourself than him, “I’m so happy and so in love with you.” 

….

At a little lunch spot the next day, you deliberately order just what you’ll eat, no leftovers thank you very much. This kinda throws Austin off and he already seems pretty nervous. After you guys eat, Austin grabs your hands across the table and looks you in the eye. 

“Ok Princess, I’ve been thinking about it, and I have two , no three things to tell you.. Well… ask you. I’m hoping at least one of these will sway you.” 

You look at him a little confused. 

“About coming to live with me, that is,” he clarifies.

“Oh, ok,” your heart is about to burst, ‘please let this be good, please let it be enough,’ you think to yourself. 

“First is, in a couple weeks I am going to go shoot a small project. It's only gonna be less than a month, but I want you to come with me. I’d love your support and honestly, I don’t think I can go that long without seeing you,” he stops and looks at you hopefully. 

You are all in to go anywhere with him, but you were hoping for something more grand than this. Even if he got you a small acting role in the project that would be something. 

“Of course I’ll come,” is all you say.

“Ok, good. Second, and please don’t be mad at me,” he puts his hands out in supplication, ”I took the liberty of sending your tape to a couple people. They liked you and they want to see you, so, if you are willing, you have some call-back zoom calls on Monday.” He presses his lips together, eyes big and hopeful. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper, “really?” 

He nods. 

“Are you upset?” 

“What? No! No! That’s amazing! Of course  I”ll do the calls!” This was better, using connections to actually help you get your foot in the door. 

“And finally, I don’t just want to take care of you, I want you to be able to take care of yourself. So I’m offering you this, in your name.”  He hands you three flyers. They are houses for sale, two in Santa Monica, one in Brentwood, “I know how you like choices. So you get to choose and once you pick one, you can consider it your backup security. All three are awesome and ready to rent out.   We have appointments with my realtor buddy this afternoon.” His lip shakes, hoping to god you’ll like it, that it’s enough. 

You are floored, you expected… anything other than this. Even a wedding ring was more likely in your mind than a house. A place that was yours, that you could rent out or you could live there if, god forbid, something went wrong? Plus the possibility of an acting job on TOP of that? Your practical mind is chewing it over quickly, trying to find a loophole. Staying with Austin, having an income, owning a home, being loved like you’ve never been loved before. 

You are standing up, wait... when did you do that? 

“Austin, take me back home, right now,” you say in a sort of shocked voice. 

He’s stricken and confused. “But Princess, don’t you see. It would be in your name, yours free and clear.  You can rent it out as an income stream, and it’s…. it’s … yours… and  jobs and security. You’re safe…with me. Please,” his voice fades, eyes pleading with you.

You blink as he talks, yes you understand… why is he…?

“No,” you say assuredly, you see his heart drop in his chest. Oh shit, you are making a mess of this.  You shake your head to clear it. 

“No, no,  I mean home. Take me home to our house. I need to make love to you right now because you are amazing. Austin, you are my Fantasy come True, I am all in from this second on. I will never leave you, never stray, always be here for you and will treat you like my King and I know now that you will always treat me like your Queen. I love you so much I may burst.” 

You don’t really remember the drive home.

Austin barely makes it into the driveway before he throws the car in park and runs to open your door. He reaches into his pocket and hands you a set of keys and ushers you to the front door. When you unlock the door, he swoops you up and carries you inside. Jesus his muscles aren’t just for show. 

He sets you on the stairs. 

“We can change anything you want, Princess. This is your castle too now. If you want a room to be yours for things or if you need something special, let’s do it.” “Austin, my love, the only thing I want right now is you.” 

He kisses you into oblivion. You practically rip his clothes off in the foyer. He lets you.

You don’t even make it to the bedroom or the couch for that matter. He takes you right there on the stairs, with the front door wide open. He is sweet and loving, his hips moving like a dolphin on the water against your own.

You keep repeating “My Austin, my love,” while looking into his ocean eyes.  It’s slow and sensual and it means everything to you. 

….

Austin takes you to the apartment you had shared with your partner,  to get your things the next day. You tell  Austin he had better wait in the car. He is unhappy about it, leaning against the hood, watching intently, worried for your safety. Thank god you had thought about this already. You walk in, with boxes. Your partner is sucked into his game. 

“Damit, I thought you’d be longer, I'm at a good part,” he says. He hates when you interrupt his gaming. Well, he won’t have to worry about that anymore. 

You drop an InNOut Burger bag next to him. He pauses his game, looks at you and snatches it up. “Is that it? Didn’t Auuuustin take you somewhere better?” he smirks, opening the bag. 

You decide not to answer as he goes back to his game, stuffing the burger in his mouth. You just start packing and see if he’ll notice. You get your clothes  and the box in the closet that might as well be a shrine to your mom. A few of your favorite little items around the house. You carry them out to the landing, Austin is there, unable to stay away, and wordlessly starts taking them to the car. 

“Finally getting rid of your junk?” your partner says as you walk back in for the last box. 

“No, I’m leaving,” you say calmly, turning towards the door. I mean, in a way you ARE getting rid of your junk.

“What?” he says, looking in the closet at your empty half. “Oh, are you?” his voice is dripping with animosity. “Ok sure, go, you’ll be back before nightfall. You’ll never be able to survive the big bad world.” He follows you out the door, mocking you.  “What, do you think you’ll actually meet Austin Butler and he’ll save you? Ha!” 

Austin steps up from the landing to take the box from you. He looks menacingly at your former partner, but says nothing. 

“Yes, yes he has,” you say, turning back. 

“What, did you hire a look-a-like or something?” he can’t quite wrap his head around what he is seeing. “That is pathetic, Ok you made your point, get back in here and I’ll forgive you.” 

“No, it really is me and no, I don’t believe she will,” Austin says quietly, gripping the box, his knuckles going white.  

“I told you, you never believed me,” you shrug, “in fact you actually never listened to anything I had to say unless it was about whatever thing you were fixated on at the time. I told you I needed romance, that I needed to be loved hard, loved fully, loved lovingly.”

“And you think he loves you?” he says incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Austin's voice reverberates behind you, “cuz he does.”

Your hand reaches out to touch Austin in an effort to both calm him and say ‘don’t worry, I got this’. Besides, there are  things  that you’ve been waiting far too long  to say out loud. 

“Yes, he does.” you repeat, taking a shaky breath. “I need someone who is willing to comfort me and who actually finds joy in making me feel better, and to feel good about myself.  Even you have said that you thought Austin would be a better partner for me than you are. Now you can take comfort in the fact that you were right. Austin cares about my feelings and what’s on my mind. He WANTS me, all of me and he loves when I shine.“ 

You smile, realizing how easy this actually is. You had been dreading the end for so long, avoiding even thinking about it. Placating your partner time and time again in fear of it, under his threat of it. But now that it’s here, it’s so simple.  

“I told you I needed these things and you just didn’t deliver. I realize now that you can’t deliver. So I’m done with your narcissism, with your supposed demons, with your total lack of empathy. I truly hope that you figure out how to be happy. But it’s not my job anymore. Goodbye.” 

“You were shit at making me happy,“ he yells at you as you turn away, motioning Austin to leave. Austins holds his ground, practically growling at the words he hears. 

“Yeah” you look over your shoulder,” because only YOU can choose to make yourself happy. And I’m making MY choice now.”  Austin nods, glad you stood up for yourself, and turns. You follow Austin toward the gate. 

“You are delusional and worthless! She is worthless!!” he yells out the open door at you both.

Austin just can’t stand by and let him insult you like this. Just before the gate, he stops in front of you.  His back expands in a deep breath, he puts the box down in front of him very deliberately. He turns around, staring down your former partner. You trust Austin, but you are ready to intervene if needed. Your former partner takes a step back, seeing the look in Austin’s eyes. 

“She isn’t worthless,” his tone is even and metered. He refuses to be brought down to this man’s  level, “Just because you couldn't respect her enough to keep her doesn’t mean she is worthless. She is amazing. She deserves all the love, support, and kindness I can give her, which is a hell of a lot more than you’ve done for her.  You… you are just a sad man who refuses to choose help.” 

With that, he turns, picks up the box and walks away. You turn with him. 

You don’t look back. Ever. 

…..

Epilogue

Austin helped you get  your foot in the door of the Hollywood machine. It lead to several acting jobs and because of Austin, you got to pick and choose the ones that really spoke to you, the ones that challenged you. It wasn’t long after you had really settled into acting that Austin  asked for your input about a show that he was producing.  Once he heard your ideas, he offered you the position of co-producer. You ended up realizing that producing was also one of your passions. You liked being in charge and making decisions.  You had an eye for talent and a mind that handled money well. So you and Austin started producing things together. You loved working with him in any way. You still did a lot of acting as well, because it had wormed its way into your blood. 

When Austin proposed, he had rented a little villa in the south of France, with a beautiful view of the coast. He kept going on and on about how much he loved this place, how he needed to visit every year just to reset.  He had cooked up a marvelous meal, complete with a delicious and  proper dark chocolate mousse.

The first taste of that thick creaminess coating your taste buds was just right. The strong dark chocolate flavor, the subtle bitterness, the light sweetness, all really grabbed the attention of your slutty taste buds. Your eyes closed as you moaned and savored  it. 

Then Austin had a big spoonful in front of your mouth, nodding for you to take.  You wrapped your lips around the spoon as he opened his mouth, like feeding a baby. 

That was when you felt it, a hard…. Ring? 

You pulled it out of your mouth and looked up to see him on his knee next to the table. Holding another one in a blue box. He knows how much you like choices. 

"I love you so much more than I could ever begin to put into words, my Princess,” he had said, “I want to spend every single day of my life trying to show you how much, my darling. A lifetime with you will never be enough, but it's a start, my beautiful Angel."

You had cried. He had cried when you said yes. You made love to him then and there. There might have been some mousse involved. 

You had wanted to send your former partner an invitation to the wedding, wanting to be kind and thoughtful.  But Austin had pointed out that even though you felt like it was an olive branch, it seemed more like adding insult to injury. 

“I know that if my girl was stolen away by someone that could give her everything I couldn't,” rebutted Austin, “I’d be pissed to get a wedding invitation. I’d feel like they were rubbing it in my face. And I don’t want a scene at our wedding.” Austin and you discussed it a bit and eventually both of you agreed that it was best not to invite your former partner.

You honeymooned in Japan. He knew you had always wanted to go and booked a beautiful Ryokan with a private onsen.  The food was amazing, your slutty tastebuds were not disappointed. 

Your wedding gift to him was the Villa he had proposed in. You had bought it with the rental money from your house in Santa Monica that you had saved.  You didn’t need that kind of assurance anymore, you truly had all that you had ever wanted and more. 

Fin

I hope you have enjoyed Fantasy Come True. Thanks again to @purejasmine for the request and the massive amounts of input. Working with you and becoming your friend has been a joy. Thank you for trusting me.

<3 @FaeGoddessog

[kiidwritings]

so cringe, but i love u <3

chapter 1: gillette razor

wc; 3385. tags/warnings; maybe ooc .T4T RAAAGGHHHH!! Trans horangi. Trans könig. 5+1 Things. sorry if könig is ooc. also horangi might be ooc. I TRYING. idk i based his AUDHD on mine so :P. same with könig's social anxiety. author is nd. Author is trans. she/he/they könig. transfem könig. im trying my best ;-;. not beta read. (some) events based/inspired on stuff in author's real life. possible grammatical errors. mentions of sex. body/gender dysmorphia. mentions of needles (T-shot). vomiting. PISS (not in a sexual way 😭). grossness/unsanitariness. konig is a bit of a slob (lmk if I missed anything!)

a/n: i posted this on ao3 back in mid-october, but been too busy/forgot to post it here...oops ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. i was deadass thinking about leaving this (I've been in a creativity flunk, I hate my art and my writing), but then I remembered I made this /for/ someone basically, and I'm no quiter!!!!! 💪🏽 I'm the youngest of 5 siblings and lived in a full house, so most these icks are based on things they've done/do. i project heavily onto the characters so they might be OOC. also, horangi is used for on-base settings and hong-jin is used when he's just a civilian/off-base.

pairing: kim "horangi" hong-jin/könig

READ ON AO3!!

Moving in with a partner is always awkward. 

You have to accommodate their living style, how they run things, a new environment, and just living with another person in general (which differs greatly from living with siblings- take it from Hong-Jin who grew up with four sisters).

During their first time on leave together, they instantly noticed things about each other that were never brought to light while on base.

Konig was an early riser (not by choice, just by force of habit), while Hong-Jin liked to sleep in, especially without the sound of an alarm clock waking him at the asscrack of dawn.

(It had actually taken some time before they shared a bed. The first time Hong-Jin even suggested it, Konig exhaled and swallowed an entire chunk of bread whole, before proceeding to cough up the mushy bits as Hong-Jin patted his back too hard.)

At first, Konig found it cute as Horangi tried to pull them back to bed, mumbling and pushing his face further into the pillows. And if she did need to wake Hong-Jin up, he’d wake up grumpy, sitting in bed with a sleepy scowl for about 10 minutes (with some additional complaints or an ogle at Konig as he got dressed) before slipping out of the comfort of bed and also getting ready. 

The two had gotten comfortable enough to share the bathroom, mainly while brushing their teeth or enjoying a nice shower together with or without any funny business is up to you to decide .

Two toothbrushes, one that looked hardly used besides leftover moisture and one with bristles so flattened it was a surprise the owner still had enamel on their teeth, leaned against each other in a little decorative cup Konig picked up from the thrift store. It was old, its design- different varieties of cats in beachwear- having worn off and the plastic was graying a bit.

The bathroom air was moist and hot as Hong-Jin entered, Konig not bothering to lock the door knowing he’d come in whenever he finished grumbling over not being able to sleep through the morning. The shower ran hot as steam wafted past the thin shower curtains and Konig hummed a tune. A mix of incoherent words and hushed melodies resonated from her chest and throat. Hong-Jin smirked and with help from the see-through curtains, poked Konig in the tummy through the PVC. 

Konig gasped, and pulled the curtain to the side, only allowing his head and shoulders to peek through. Hong-Jin grinned and relished at the sight of Konig’s slick and freckled skin. There was a tint of pinkness to it from the hot water cascading out of the shower head. Their hair was sticking to their forehead, the curls now slicked with water and shiny.

“Good morning.” Hong-Jin purred. He thought about joining Konig, but he didn’t smell and wasn’t really in the mood for shower sex.

“Ah! What was that for?” Konig let out a huff of amusement and shot her partner back a cheeky smirk.

Hong-Jin just shrugged and leaned back against the bathroom sink. “Just felt like it.”

“Want to join me?” Konig asked, using his hand to wipe some excess water from his face, huffing like a seal clearing its nose.

Hong-Jin just shrugged again, turning around to face the fogged-up mirror. “Neh,” He absently drew a smiley face in the mirror's condensation coating. 

‘Not in the mood for sex.’ he thought.

He shouldn’t say that, that’s forward. Plus, Konig might find that weird…yeah, don’t say that. Think of something else-.

“Not in the mood for sex.”

“ What?! ” Konig gaped.

“What?” Hong-Jin turned around and awkwardly stared at Konig’s shocked face.

“Are you in the mood for sex?”

“What, no I just said I wasn’t.” Konig blinked and his eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

“So why’d you mention it? Does me showering turn you on?”

Hong-Jin blinked hard, doing a double take. And I thought I was forward, geez! “No! I mean, yes!...No, sometimes?” 

What the fuck was this conversation even???

“Are you turned on right now?” Konig asked, probably just trying to fill the awkward silence and also trying to understand the reason behind Hong-Jin’s initial response.

“No! I’m not turned on, I’m normal, I’m…I need to pee!”

And with that, Hong-Jin pulled the curtain back to hide himself from Konig and practically slammed the toilet lid open, signaling to Konig to not peek past the curtains and also to drop the conversation.

Once he was sure she was back to bathing herself, he did his business. Making sure not to flush (to save Konig from getting burned alive from the already hot water getting hotter), Hong-Jin washed his hands and began brushing his teeth. “Do you need help with your T-shot today?” Konig asked, now that the awkwardness had disappeared from the previous conversation. Hong-Jin spits in the sink, cupping his hands and gurgling the water. The water was colder than usual, probably from the mintiness of the toothpaste residue, and chilled the teeth were cracked and sensitive. “Yeah, that’d be nice,” Hong-Jin said, wiping the excess foam that dribbled out his mouth and began splashing water in his face. 

Konig liked helping with Hong-Jin’s T-shot. He could do it by himself, but sometimes he wouldn’t stab hard enough, or seeing the needle go in made his chest tighten. But the domestic sight of Konig’s big hand engulfing one of his thighs and having her other hand slowly sticking the needle into the fat made Hong-Jin want Konig by his bedside, at his beck and call if he batted his eyelashes innocently enough.

(Sometimes Konig thought about starting up on estrogen. They wouldn’t mind if they were born a girl. The thought of wearing a bra made him feel dirty like she was some pervert who was faking her identity. Word would go around that KorTac’s titan colonel was a tranny who thought he was a girl and wore a bra. The thought of rumors and the loss of her reputation all because she wanted to express herself made her stomach churn and a sense of dread ran down his spine. 

But why should he care?!...well, he did care a lot .

Years of being made fun of and looked down upon (not literally of course) would all be down the drain. His secret was safe with Hong-Jin, his partner, and Horangi, his teammate.)

“And what do you say…?” Konig teased, a grin present in the tone of her voice. Through the curtain, Konig was washing off his body, splashing water on his face and running his fingers through his hair.

Hong-Jin just scowled, rolling his eyes and flushing the toilet, letting the scolding water pour down onto his cocky girlfriend. “Ah ah! Heiß! So verdammt heiß!” (Hot! So fucking hot!) Konig yelped and rushed to turn off the water as their mischievous tiger of a boyfriend left the bathroom, chuckling quite proudly to himself. 

The rest of the morning was casual. The two went about their typical routine, it was nothing special; making breakfast, and doing minimal chores. Hong-Jin liked to go on a run before the sun was really shining, and Konig had some laundry to fold that he’d been putting off (his mama ain’t raise him to be a slob, so having to walk past that pile every day made guilt tickle his stomach). 

Hong-Jin had returned to the small apartment covered in a light sheen of sweat, adrenaline still running through his body. Walking into the bedroom, he fell back onto the bed, just nearly missing the neat stack of folded laundry with his leg.

Konig huffed, “Be careful, I’m being helpful here.” Hong-Jin just responded with a huff of his own from deep within his chest and swung a leg over to land on Konig’s lap, which as a result, knocked off some clothes from the folded pile. 

“Hey! Vorsichtig! ” Konig pouted and gave a smack to Hong-Jin’s calf. He could only smile and snuggle into the pillow.

“Tired…” Was all Hong-Jin replied with, turning onto his side, being mindful of his leg now and inhaling the musk and scent on Konig’s pillow. It smelt of pine-scented body wash and 3-in-1.

Konig exhaled once more, re-folding the messed up clothes but allowing Hong-Jin to keep his leg on her lap.

“We need food,” Hong-Jin mumbled, eyes still closed.

Konig just hummed, “ Ja… ”

Hong-Jin let his hand find its way to Konig’s thigh, squeezing a bit, “Come with me?” Hong-Jin tilted his head to peek up at his girlfriend. Konig just continued folding clothes, glancing over to meet their boyfriend’s gaze.

“Perhaps-”

“Great, let me go shower.” Hong-Jin shot up, once again knocking over some clothes (Konig scoffed and looked at Horagni with great offense). 

He gathered some new clothes, threw his sweaty workout clothes in the battered hamper, and walked into the bathroom. 

The shower knobs were adjusted to just the right water temperature. Absent-mindedly placing his hand on the sink while looking at himself in the mirror, he left something under his hand.

A small puddle of water. Nothing too bad. But in the water were tiny hairs, red hairs to be exact. Some were curly and some were just straight. Hong-Jin felt his skin crawl and immediately wiped his hands on a hand towel hanging nearby. He felt sick.

Was Konig always this gross? How can someone just leave behind such a mess and not think to clean it up? Did he just touch his shaven pubic hairs???

Hong-Jin shuddered, washing his hands once… then twice, and took a deep breath, analyzing the scene.

With a bit of an attitude, he walked out of the bathroom to Konig. She was putting away the clothes, reorganizing the ones that wouldn’t fit in their dresser drawers. Everything was folded military-style, neat and compact.

“Konig,” Hong-Jin gritted his teeth. Konig looked back and blinked, “ Ja ? Why the long face, tiger?” Hong-Jin just huffed and threw a thumb over his shoulder to the ajar bathroom door.

“You left your fucking pubes on the bathroom sink.” His voice was sharp and annoyed. Konig blinked before flushing.

“Oh.”

“Yeah ‘oh’ . Go clean it up…” he took a big inhale and then exhaled. “Please?”

Konig paused, looking to the floor, embarrassed, before glancing at Hong-Jin, and then making their way to the bathroom.

The sink was cleaned in no time and an apology kiss was planted atop Hong-Jin’s head, right on the side part of his hair. “I’m sorry,” Konig mumbled, lips still against his head, inhaling the scent of the hair oil Hong-Jin used.

Hong-Jin just gave a smile, it didn’t reach his eyes but if it weren’t for the arm sliding around her waist, Konig would’ve assumed he was still upset with her.

“It’s fine, just gross.” Hong-Jin’s cheeks tinted in response to the kiss and he squeezed Konig’s love handle, causing the latter to stiffen.

And like promised, the sink was free of any hairs.

It seemed like that problem was resolved, Konig made sure to clean up after himself on the days when he did shave so everyone was happy…

Until it wasn’t. 

The issue arose (again) one early morning when the sun was still asleep. It had been an evening of takeout, kissing, watching movies, kissing, a little drinking, making out, and like the old farts they are, snuggling in bed (with some more kissing and a messy handjob) before falling asleep to the sound of each other’s hearts beating.

It was about 2 AM, and the outside world was quiet. Hong-Jin’s eyes fluttered open, cold hardening the corners and causing him to wince. Konig laid on his back, hairy chest and chunky stomach on display and snoring, not to the point of keeping Hong-Jin up, but putting him at ease when the night was too quiet. 

(Hong-Jin loved how Konig ran hot, all that muscle and fat did wonders to circulate heat that was then shared with Hong-Jin, their loving boyfriend. The more fat on Konig’s body, the more there was for Hong-Jin to love. And Konig loved Hong-Jin's slim figure, his muscle and small tummy fit perfectly in his arms- two puzzle pieces that loved the skin-to-skin feeling.)

With cat-like stealth, Hong-Jin slipped from Konig’s big strong arms and ventured to the bathroom. The fluorescent overhead lights stung his eyes and he squinted his way to the toilet. 

He went about doing his business, trying his best to keep his mind calm, usage of his sleepy brain would cause it to wake up and then he’d stay up on his phone until either Konig slid it under his pillow or he passed out from the blue light. 

Before flushing, Hong-Jin could make out something in the toilet bowl (besides his piss). Did he get his period suddenly? No, it just ended last weekend. 

Finally taking a second to rub his eyes and concentrate, he released it was pubes.

Instead of leaving them on the sink, Konig had used the toilet to shave. Fine in itself, Horangi did the same thing. But leaving them in the toilet and not flushing wasn’t . She must’ve shaved after Horangi had been settled into bed that night.

Letting his curiosity get the best of him, Hong-Jin tore off a small bit of toilet paper and lifted the toilet lid, only to cringe and shoot his hand back, seeing as stray pieces of pubic hair littered the bare toilet bowl rim.

Hong-Jin shivered, he left dirty just looking at it. He quickly flushed the toilet along with the torn toilet paper and washed his hands and just above his wrists. He ended up being too angry to sleep before passing out two hours later, refusing to snuggle back up with Konig.

Even once they were back on base, Horangi seemed to notice this “ick” of Konig’s. It wasn’t like he made an effort to look out for every stray hair of Konig’s, but with that gross memory in the front of his mind, he couldn’t help it.

He had just happened to be walking to the locker room when Konig turned the corner, shoulders brushing.

“Oh, hallo Horangi.” Konig seemed rather chipper this morning, maybe because Horangi had come back from a mission four days ago and she was happy to see him.

“Konig,” Horangi nodded his head. He was dressed in a plain green shirt and some cargo pants. The humidity of the base hallways made the fabric of his clothes and mask feel like they were sticking to his skin from all the sweat he’d built up while working out. It was a good thing he’d kept his sunglasses in his gym bag, the moisture would've sure collected underneath the frames.

“I heard about the mission you were on, good job meine Kätzchen. ” (my kitten) Konig’s eyes upturned through the eye holes of his mask, and they reached out to place a gentle hand on Horangi’s shoulder. Horangi scoffed, shrugging their hand off playfully, and scowled under his mask.

“You know I hate that pet name.” Horangi narrowed his eyes at his taller lover but there was no real malice in his voice, in fact, he even blushed a bit under his mask, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up with flusteredness.

Konig just chuckled, before leaning down a bit, the fabric of his hood just barely touching Horangi’s cheek. “If the circumstances were different, I’m sure that pet name would be getting a much-needed rise out of you.~” 

There was a fluttery feeling in Horangi’s chest and he felt his skin heat up more and he licked his lips a bit. 

With a quick glance at the open end of the hall, Horangi shifted their masks out of the way, letting himself venture underneath Konig’s and share a passionate kiss. With the built-up tension in the air, it quickly dissolved into a quick makeout session. The only thing to break them apart was the sound of a shower stall door slamming shut. 

Konig was the one to pull back, a string of saliva quickly being lapped up by her and she grinned. The two were panting and Horangi was surely sweating more from the heat underneath Konig’s mask and building up below.

Goosebumps prickled Horangi’s skin and suddenly the air of the hallway wasn't as dry anymore, the layer of sweat cooling him down. 

“I’m guessing meine kleines kätzchen will be ‘stopping by’ this evening?” Konig whispered, his soul patch rubbing against Horangi’s cheek as his lips brushed against his earlobe. His body was now boxing in Horangi’s, their most vulnerable parts brushing against each other’s. Horangi bit his lip, slipping his mask back up.

“Yes sir.”~ He purred. Then they parted their separate ways, both riled up and ready to jump each other’s bones the next time they saw each other.

Later that night, long after Konig had finished his reports (that he’d procrastinated long enough getting done) and everyone had started settling down before lights out, Horangi had Konig straddle to the bed, moving his hips in an exotic and hypnotic way. Their masks and most of their clothes were tossed aside, leaving them both bare and vulnerable to each other’s wandering hands and teeth. 

Horangi hadn't expected to be so pent up from just a bit of teasing that afternoon, but god , if his giant girlfriend didn’t destroy his insides by the end of the night, he’d lose his fucking mind.

He leaned down, pressing a sloppy kiss on his bite mark placed perfectly on their pulse point. Konig was panting, body flushed and reacting in malicious ways to Horangi’s teasing. 

“Where are your condoms at, big boy?” Horangi whispered, sucking another kiss onto their chest.

Konig sucked in a shaky breath and stammered to speak, “ I-im bad…badezimmer- oh gott… (In the bathroom- oh god)” Horangi tsked and rolled his hips into Konig causing her to whine. 

“English, 여보… ~ (Yeobo/Darling)”

With another whine and a flutter of her lashes, Konig was able to composure herself somewhat to divert from her mother tongue, “Bathroom…m-medicine cabinet.” 

Reluctantly, Horangi peeled himself from Konig (who was practically about to burst), and upon flicking on the bathroom light, felt like ice water had been poured on him and the wetness down below was instantly dried.

The bathroom was as tidy as a man could have it, nothing out of the ordinary except for the sink which was COMPLETELY covered in shaven hairs. On the edge, next to his flattened toothbrush, was a simple black razor, the blades surprisingly clean with a few stray hairs caught between, like lettuce stuck between teeth.

…well not completely, but it looked like the sink hadn’t been shown a sliver of care, not a single good scrubbing (or…some form of cleaning).

Horangi’s jaw dropped as he stood in the doorway of the small bathroom. 

He felt sick, he wanted to spit up to get rid of this gross feeling all over his body- he felt contaminated.

Sure this wasn’t Horangi's living space, (he was actually jealous Konig got his own private bathroom because of his ranking), but oh god the sight was gut-wrenching. Did they not see nothing wrong with just leaving their hair all over the sink, the place where they left their toothbrush that went in their mouth and that mouth and tongue swapped spit with him-

Konig shot up upon hearing Horangi retch, throwing himself to the toilet and regurgitating a mush of greasy mess hall food into the porcelain bowl.

“Hong-Jin, are you ok?!” Kneeling down next to Horangi, he used one hand to swoop his hair out of his face and the other to softly rub circles on his back. Horangi groaned, spitting some extra bile into the toilet water-vomit mixture.

With a shaky voice and trembling body, Horangi turned his head to Konig and gritted his teeth. “Your sink is disgusting …!”

Konig blinked, face contorted into a confused and worried look. “Huh?”

“Your SINK-” Horangi’s stomach roared and another wave of nausea rolled over him. “It’s covered in HAIR.” 

Konig just shushed his little tiger as Horangi's back arched like a cat throwing up a hairball.

So much for the sex…Konig had a raging hard-on he desperately needed to be taken care of…

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[angry-geese]

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. Fingering, tender sex, morning sex, praise kink (sort of), unprotected sex/breeding kink, mention of pregnancy (its like one sentence). Established relationship, some fluff, mostly smut. Afab reader.

Notes: domsetic fluff turned morning sex

Days where you wake up in his arms are rather rare.

Usually, he's ready for work by the time you get up. His day starts earlier than yours. You still make it a point to give him a kiss before he leaves. He'd often have something for breakfast ready, and make you lunch if he had the time. Nanami was always a better cook- you were a bit of a terror in the kitchen. When he arrived home he'd tell you little about his work. You knew of it, although he had little to say. He only actively spoke of it if he had overtime, and only to complain.

That didn't mean you weren't curious. There were a million questions you had for him; if he answered one, it would only add to the growing pile of other ones.

Married life wasn't what you expected.

It took a year to convince him to date you. Prior to that, the two of you had been roommates for nearly the same time. Over time you had gotten used to having him around. He was the one constant in life. People came and went, jobs you started and quit, but he was always there.

Things weren't all that different from the way they were before. Switching to married life felt natural. So much so that it was a bit frightening. It makes you wonder if this is all there is to it. If that's the case, then you could live with it.

You're not quite sure what wakes you up, but you're surprised to feel his body still beside you. Early morning light streams in through the cracks in the curtains. His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. The faint scent of his cologne—something woody mixed with something sweet, like vanilla—still hangs onto him. Uncertain if he's still awake, you call out his name. To no response.

Slowly his hand creeps up your thigh, resting on your stomach for a moment before he's pressing his thumb under the waistband of your shorts. Nanami's touches are feather-light as his fingers just barely ghost over your skin. The soft feeling of his thumb grazing your clit makes you jump. He smooths a hand over your hair, cooing words of praise as he leans forward to nip at your ear. Goosebumps raise along your shoulder.

Nanami presses a quick kiss to your neck, going back to suck a dark mark into the skin. It'll be hard to cover up tomorrow. Gently he drags his thumb across your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. You part your legs just a bit to give him more room. He shoves down your shorts—along with your panties—baring your sex. You lift your hips for just a moment to kick them off, throwing them to the side. Your shirt quickly goes the same way. Then his. Nanami pulls you in for a quick kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip until you let his tongue into your mouth. The feeling of the slick muscle is intoxicating. You're already half drunk off the scent of his cologne.

He knows just how to make you melt under his touch. He has a way of pressing your buttons, leaving you crawling back for more. Part of you is embarrassed at how quickly you turn to putty in his hands.

When he pulls away, there's an audible pop! as your lips part. He leans back down to kiss you again. It's only a peck this time, but the same amount of fire is behind it.

A low laugh escapes him when he feels the slick that's collected between your legs. In any other circumstance you'd be a bit embarrassed at how quickly he riles you up. He hooks his arm under your knee, forcing your legs further apart. His thumb brushes over your clit, working in soft, teasing motions. When you try to grind down onto his hand, he simply huffs and pulls his hand away, leaving you aching with need.

"Ken, please-"

"Please what?" He asks. "Use your words..."

"Fuck me!"

To that, he cruelly laughs. The noise comes from low in his chest. You're almost ashamed at the throb it sends right to your cunt. Almost.

He mutters a soft "good" as he eyes you up and down, sizing you up like you're some sort of opponent.

He works you open with his fingers. Just the one at first—then adding a second—rubbing against your g-spot. His fingers are thin, but long, and know just where to prod in a way that makes you whimper. Your eyes roll back when he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. Nanami takes notice of this, and proceeds to add a third. His thumb rubs small circles against your clit. A familiar heat pools low in your stomach. His touches only make you more needy. When your pussy clamps around his fingers—you're close to your own release—he realizes his own need, pressing against your back. Grinding against your thigh only does so much.

Typically he isn't the type to tease. It makes you wonder what's gotten him so worked up.

He pinches your clit between two of his fingers before resuming their circles. His movements are skilled—he's had practice—making you melt under his touch. The wetness that collects between your thighs nearly drips down his hand, making it glisten in the low light.

He finds the squeal you make when you cum endearing, using the moment to kiss you, right on the corner of your lips.

You ride out your orgasm on his hand; shaky, but nearly ready for another round. It won't take you long- he's seen it happen before. Soon you're sitting up, facing him, your cheeks red and your lips bitten pink. He commits the look of your flushed form to memory.

He'd have to tease you more often.

Nanami palms himself through his boxers. He frees his leaking cock. The head is a ruddy color, and rather angry looking, swollen with need. His spare hand moves to knead the soft flesh of your breasts, working your nipples into stiff peaks. He guides your hand to his cock, closing your fist around his member. It's long—a little over six inches—but not too thick. The weight of it is heavy in your hands. You give him a few teasing pumps, making sure your touches are achingly slow. Instantly he notices, giving one of your nipples a harsh pinch, though not hard enough to hurt. When you squeak and mumble a weak: "I'm sorry" he only nips at your ear and chuckles. Any attempt you make to regain control of the situation only digs your grave deeper.

"Are you going to be good?" His lips press against your temple.

Weakly you nod.

"Good." He coos. "You're always so good for me."

He shifts so you're left lying on your stomach underneath him, hips lifted slightly and pulled flush to his. Your body is tacky with sweat—maybe a bit of saliva too—he drags you in closer. Nanami leans forward to mumble into your ear. Sometime during this his teeth find your shoulder, your flesh sporting a crescent shaped mark to show. You're not quite sure if it'll bruise. Probably.

"Had to work overtime." He says, the slightest bit of venom in his tone. "Again. Not happy."

At this you let out a small giggle. That's the second time this week. That must be why he came home so late last night. He never tried to hide his dislike for it. Instead of chatting with you, he simply went to bed.

The head of his cock presses against your entrance, slick with his own need. There's no resistance as he presses right into you, although he still gives you a moment to adjust. Nanami fits right in you, your pussy so tight and warm around him. He doesn't think he'll ever get used to how good you feel. He's had his fair share of partners, but they all pale in comparison to you.

His large hands knead at the flesh of your ass and thighs. He's always admired how soft you are; the curve of your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Even the harsh angles of your face, the way it twists and contorts in pleasure. To him, you were truly the most beautiful thing in existence. There's not much he wouldn't do for you.

He's always preferred to fuck you slow and deep. He could watch you squirm and writhe under him for hours if you'd let him. Nanami has never been one for quickies. Sometimes they're nice, but he always prefers to take his time with you.

Slowly he rolls his hips against yours. You inhale sharply, gripping at the sheets. His pace starts out a bit slow, but he leaves none of your sweet spots untouched.

The second you start to get a bit loud he pulls out, making you whine in frustration.

"Needy today, aren't we, love?"

You grovel at the pet name, hardly amused. "Just touch me dammit."

Nanami's relatively collected demeanor falters when you clench around him, pulling him back in. His fingers dig into your hips, his nails leaving little crescent-shaped indents in your skin.

"Oh fuck-" his thrusts grow erratic, "fuck! I love you I love you I-"

"I love you too!"

His fingers lace with yours. Momentarily he brings your hand to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles. The action is so slow and soft you're not quite sure if you feel it.

"I'm so happy I married you."

His free hand goes back to toying with your clit, harshly pinching the bud between two fingers before tracing circles around it. The movements are a bit erratic. He must be close. To stifle a groan, he leans forward, sinking his teeth into the junction of flesh where your shoulder and neck meet. Not hard enough to hurt, although it may leave a bruise. Some possessive feeling deep within him made him proud of the marks he left.

It's enough to send you over the edge. The dam has broken, the floodgates have opened. You cum around him hard, your entire body shuddering as you cry out. The neighbors certainly can hear. Noise complaints happen a bit too often for your liking. He groans as his own release paints your walls white. You feel so full.

Nanami pulls out slowly as to not spill any of his cum, taking a moment to admire his work, and the look of your fucked-out form; the red handprints on your ass, the nail marks in your soft flesh, the way your neck and chest blush along with your face. It makes him wonder how you'd look with your belly swollen with his child.

He'd have to do this more often.

Dramatically you flop down on the bed, chest heaving. A single drop of cum spills onto the sheets. He lays down beside you, taking a moment to push a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You'd be sore tomorrow. Your neck already sports red teeth marks, and half-faded hickeys. He presses a kiss to the mark, rather proud of his work. His arms snake around your body, holding you close to him.

Nanami has never been this much in love.

You're half asleep when he pulls away. It's almost time for him to head to work. Gojo needs his help with something, he's not quite sure what.

Gojo can wait.

He's tucking himself back into his boxers and getting out of bed by the time you turn around. If he notices you staring, he says nothing about it.

"Where are you going?" You ask.

"I'm making breakfast."

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Lets Just Stay

Summary- 1.4k Steve Rogers x You. First thing in the morning, he is your Captain and only yours to love on. 18+ Only. 

A/N- is was a Anons birthday and they deserved something they wanted on their day, as we all do. Happy Birthday Babes. Sending you all the love and support, you deserve to know how incredible you are. 💙

Delicate waves of sunshine trickled from the bedroom window and stretched across your soldier's blonde hair leaving it in a golden hue while your fingers threaded through it, pushing it back from his forehead while his eyelids twitched in his sleep, his head laid against your chest. 

After a very early wake up, both of you passed back out tangled around each other, and now Steve blanketed you, his arm loosely wrapped around you to keep you under him. 

Not that you were looking to move, you hooked one leg around his hip, letting your toes trail up and down the back of a muscular thigh while he shifted slightly in his sleep, pressing his face further against your breasts and you could feel his lips curling against the curve happily finding comfort in your softness. 

You thought he was still asleep for half a minute, your head tilting back with closed eyes as you continued to tangle your fingers through his hair when the kisses started. His fingers tightened around your waist and he moved up slowly, taking his time to press his lips against every inch of your collarbone, then up your neck. The morning scruff on his cheek grazed along your shoulder, giggling a bit at the burn. “Well good morning Sleepy Head.” you mutter to Steve while he presses his hand against the mattress to shift up further, covering your face in flutters of kisses before he finally settles against your lips with a satisfied sleepy sigh. 

“Morning yourself Sweetheart.” He takes his time exploring your bottom lip with his top lip, sucking on it a moment before pressing against your mouth harder. You groaned softly into that kiss, wrapping your arm around his neck and tilting your head, letting your lips part for him. 

His tongue traced along your upper lip till it rolled between parted lips. A stroke of his tongue along yours soon tangled into a much more passionate kiss. 

Your fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head and your body rolled into his while wiggling your other leg loose to also lope over his hip, locking your ankles together. Steve shifted his hips to press in against you, the both of you moaning against each others mouths at the stimulating feeling. Lifting his head from you with a slight inhale, Steve grinned down at you, your pupils widening feeling him heavy on your inner thigh, matching his grin. “We need to take days off more often Steve.” You tugged your teeth against your bottom lip and he was quick to lay claim to it himself, dipping his head. 

“Mmh, I agree. Getting to wake up and love on you should happen every morning.” His palm covered one of your breasts, kneading it in his palm, the tip pebbling with excitement and peeking between his fingers till he started to pull at it slowly, making you tilt your head back to enjoy the sensation Steve was building in you. 

Fuck he was always so good at it. He pressed his face into your neck with a groan, nipping at that spot where your pulse thrummed excitedly. “Uh Baby, you. Feel. So. Fucking. Good.” He pulled harder, twisting more to make you arch into his hand more with a whine. A grind of his hips against yours was just another affirmation that he was going to have you, again. 

“I’m gonna fill up this sweet little pussy made just for me Baby.” He grunted with another grind that just made you wriggle under him, your slick pooling, ready to feel more. Steve's hand slipped down from your breast to tease along your hip, then in between your bodies to stroke your folds, dipping fingers into your warmth to spread your slick from your entrance to your clit, just as he worked your nipple, he swirled patterns against your pearl, dragging it up and down, pressing down and then feathering it lightly to make you impatient. 

“Steve…” You whined out now, the teasing was an agitating bliss, frustrating to your core as you tried to rock your hips for more, but Steve was firm. Cerulean blues flashed at you from under his lashes and his mouth slanted slightly to kiss you hungrily while keeping you pinned underneath him. “Use your words Sweetheart, if you ask nicely, maybe your Captain will give it to you.” 

Captain… that made you groan all over again, rolling your head back while he doubled his efforts, just making you crave more of his touch and his control. “Fill me Captain, fuck your cum into me and leave me full of you all day.” 

“That's my Sweet Girl.” Steve praised, his tone dropping as he lifted himself up a bit. “Wrap your arms around me.” Which you complied with his instruction, wrapping your hands over his shoulders and digging your nails in slightly into the tense muscle as he grasped his cock, sliding along between your folds, teasing always teasing. You glared up at him and he was quick to kiss across your forehead and trail his nose against yours till he started filling you. 

Oh that made your eyes roll back as he worked himself into you. Shallow slow thrusts split you open for him all over again and he delved his tongue into your mouth to lay claim to your whimpers and mewls that he was creating. Your legs tightened around him to keep holding him close while sweeping your hands up and down his back, tracing the quivering muscles holding himself in check. 

The thing with Steve was that he took over all your senses when he was loving you. His broad shoulders that pressed upwards with his measured thrusts claimed everything in sight, his body brushed against yours, friction burning where skin on skin pressed and pulled while rocking into the mattress, hands never stopped roaming as he committed you to memory. He worshiped every curve that you sometimes judged, his lips made searing trails over your neck, collarbone and shoulders as he hunched over you. “Fuck you are my Sweet Girl, taking me so good.” 

Another thrust, another greedy shared kiss, breaths gasped between soft moans. 

“Oh god Steve.” You cried out softly as he angled himself, knowing just how to take you apart. 

You were his, he knew all the ways you would come undone for him. He stored it away in a treasured part of his heart. Because nothing was a better gift to him then when you gave this. 

Everything. 

“I got you Sweetheart.” He assured you while you clutched at his back, arching your chest into his and he moved to pull you in close, losing any unwanted space between you two. 

If you had to describe heaven, it would be with your Captain between warm cotton sheets in the early morning. In these moments he ceased to belong to anyone besides you. When you hid your face in his shoulder, fluttering around him, you felt him tense, his hips falling into an stuttering flow of movements that you rose and sank into meeting him. 

As much as he was taking you apart, you couldn't strive to meet him halfway. Your own hot breaths searing his skin and whimpering in his ear how much you loved him in soft mewls only he ever got to hear. One of your many gifts to him. 

Some orgasms are not earth shattering and sparks, leaving you drained of air and forgetting how to move for moments. Sometimes they are sinking into a warmth embrace that envelopes you, caressing your inner parts as you come for your partner. When Steve started to spill himself, sinking down onto you with a grunt, you wrapped around him while the flood of completeness settled in you, wholeness at belonging right here. Your hands loosened their grasps and started to soothe, pressing swollen kissed lips against his skin and inhaling the familiar scent of his soap from the night and heated skin. 

He hummed happily when you brushed through his hair, now slightly disheveled, you twisted your head to nuzzle against him, sharing sweet kisses between one another till he eased back to lay next to you, his own touch still gliding along your body to press into the small of your back and ease you in closer. 

“I could easily stay like this all day, buried in you, loving you until you are tired.” Fingertips glided along the inside of your thighs and you so willing parted them for him, knowing he loved the trust you so easily gave him. Cupping his face, you let gentle kisses rain across his face till his forehead leaned against yours, eyes closed in the sweet quiet moment you two were sharing. 

“Then stay Captain, just like this.” 

[gohyuck]

hometown (lee jeno) teaser

pairing: jeno lee x reader

genre: smut, angst

teaser word count: 1.5k

fic word count: 7k+ (it looks like it may end up being, like, 11-12k? i’m unsure)

teaser warnings: wet dream, one-sided emotional affair, jerking off into a shared bathroom sink, some discussion of math, general hatred of “the System”, mentions of depression

general plot warnings for the fic: infidelity: reader cheats on yuta and jeno cheats on his original character gf and neither of their partners find out so there isn’t even a nice little revenge scene at the end... it’s literally just them getting away with cheating, leftist thought points/philosophies discussed even if they aren’t outright stated as leftist, both implicit and explicit discussion of mental illnesses (mostly depression and suicidal ideation but like it isn’t explicit ideation and they don’t actually want to die they kind of just don’t want to exist), general disillusionment with the system, jeno and the reader are not very happy people and are actually full of a lot of hopelessness about society and the future of the planet as a whole, explicit mentions of American politics/legislation/etc. and implicit criticization of them, mentions of drugs (weed), the characters are so self-aware that it hurts me to write them because i feel bad for them and feel even worse for their significant others

A brief taste of hair in his mouth - he doesn’t like it, he decides then and there - before you pull yourself away from him, laughing softly at the way you’d accidentally shifted just as he’d leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead. You reach up to smooth the wrinkle between his eyebrows, a gesture more symbolic than anything, and he straightens his face out himself, trading the hair-in-mouth disgust in for the gentle smile he’d had just before being so rudely assaulted. It’s as you start to move your hand away from his face that the two of you meet eyes, and a corner of Jeno’s mouth turns up as he circles his hand around your wrist to stop it mid-air.

“Kiss?” He asks, one of his brows arched now. You can’t look at it too long, knowing that the urge to pluck away at his stray hairs will overcome you. Instead, you train your gaze on his cupid’s bow, thinner upper lip giving way to the kind of full lower lip you love to sink your teeth into. Jeno makes the prettiest noise when you do so.

“Mhm,” You respond, sounding noncommittal to the world but absolutely sure to the boy you’re straddling. He grins fully now, right before leaning up to capture your lips in his. The first touch is just a little clumsy, just slightly awkward, but after the initial meeting it’s only up from there. It’s easy, natural, the way you dissolve into each other, a mess of tongue and teeth as his hands grip the cloth across your back that much harder, as you grind the apex of your thighs down into his with that much more force. Time progresses at the speed of light. Time doesn’t progress at all.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Jeno cums in his pants, but it’s only a matter of seconds before you do, too. He knows it. It’s what happened when he’d actually lived through this, and it’s what happens now, over and over again, a moment preserved in time with a delicacy only minds can make. The stuff of dreams, literally.

Jeno wakes up right before it happens. It isn’t jarring only because he’s used to it. His fourth alarm of the morning is blaring, and he uses one hand to haphazardly wipe the sleep out of his eyes while extracting his other arm out from underneath his girlfriend in order to reach his phone. She’s sound asleep - she always is - and he envies her for a moment before turning the alarm off and, for good measure, turning his goddamn phone off too.

It’s a bit fucked, he realizes once he’s properly come to, for him to have a wet dream about you when Minhee is right there, still sleeping off the way he’d fucked her into the bed last night. He’s had this revelation twelve nights and days in a row now. For a split second he feels bad, feels as if he’s the worst person on Earth, but it’s easily overshadowed by the way his cock is straining in his boxers. This has happened for the past 12 days too.

Jeno’s always wanted to have a daily routine.

He slides out of bed, careful not to wake Minhee, before slipping the nearest shoes on - gold Nike slides, a birthday gift from Jaemin who’d insisted that Jeno wear colorful things even if it’s just in their dorm room - and making his way to the bathroom him and Jaemin share with Renjun and Donghyuck. They’re the best suitemates he could possibly have, but he’s even more glad in this moment: none of them will be awake ‘til noon. It’s a Saturday.

He can jerk off in peace.

Just in case, Jeno locks both the bathroom doors and double checks to make sure that they’re locked before he finally, finally slips a thumb under his waistband, forcing it down with almost gratuitous speed. He can’t help the soft grunt that bubbles up from the back of his throat as he wraps one hand around his dick. He braces the other against the mirror for balance, just in case.

Jeno swipes across the base of his tip with his thumb, his eyes sliding shut at the feeling. He moves his wrist up once, lets precum drool over his own fingers for a second before sliding his hand back down with purpose, slicking himself up to make the slide between his cock and his calloused palm easier. It isn’t Minhee’s face or body that sear themselves into the inside of his eyelids as he strokes himself, bottom lip folded in between his teeth. You’d love to bite it, tug on it. He imagines your face as you’d cum from grinding against him that one time.

He tightens his grip.

He’d never actually fucked you: you hadn’t wanted to lose your virginity to someone who was so starry-eyed, so untarnished by the ways of the world. You didn’t want to take the virginity of someone like that either. It felt wrong on every level somehow. You’d made sure to tell him so, never one to mince words, not even as a 16 year old. The breakup hadn’t come long after the singular time he had (in his pants, he remembers with a wince… always with a wince when he isn’t dreaming of it) and although it didn’t work out romantically between the two of you, you’d stayed friends for the rest of your high school careers. Even now, both in different parts of the country for college, the two of you keep up, more or less, with each other. It’s friendly in a way it wasn’t before.

You’d been having your manic pixie dream girl arc the year you’d dated him, Jeno supposes now. Cynical, hopeless, bitter at the world and hating everything and everyone. The world was and is awful, and you were too aware of it, or so you said. Jeno wants to laugh so badly at that old version of you, the one that had broken his heart, but he finds that he can’t anymore. A too-big part of him thinks you might’ve been right about everything.

You’d slept with YangYang Liu in senior year, had called Jeno afterwards to see if he’d go with you to get Plan B at 3 a.m. on a Friday. It’d been hardly a week after he’d cum embarrassingly early while sleeping with someone - a girl from his third period class - for the first time. He’d swallowed his suddenly resurfacing heartbreak to pick you up and drive you to the nearest CVS in the same car you’d made out with him so many times before. He’d swallowed his moans later that night as he lay in bed, fisting his cock tightly at the thought of gripping your thighs so hard they bruised, at sinking into you, at how warm, how wet, how tight - fuck!, he’d hissed to himself then, having bitten so hard into the hand he’d used to quiet himself that blood bloomed from broken skin.

Jeno had cum hard then, and he cums just as hard now, canine splitting the flesh of his lip as he muffles his long, drawn out groans. The metallic taste of blood is enough to push him further over the edge, and he practically hunches in on himself as spurts of opaque white liquid land in the bathroom sink. He’s satiated for now. He remembers all the work he has to do - midterms are upcoming - and his post-orgasm glory fades as soon as it’d come.

After an earth-shattering orgasm to properly wake him up, everything else feels twice as mundane as usual. Jeno’s quick to run hot water in the sink, making sure all evidence of his one-sided emotional affair is gone, before brushing his teeth and pissing. He’d shower, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to. Sometimes, he can’t bring himself to for two days, or three. Deodorant and Minhee’s perfume are his best friends now. Donghyuck, psych major that he is, calls it depression. Jeno, hellbent on never letting Hyuck be correct, calls it ‘finally experiencing ego death’.

He thinks Hyuck is right, though. He won’t say so.

Jeno’d come in as a mechanical engineering major, though he thinks he might switch to computer science. If he’s going to be a corporate shill - he’s realized, quite quickly, that there’s not much else to be - he may as well do it as efficiently as possible. He’d started college with the firm belief that the world is easy to change, and that he can help to do so. He’d dispelled this concept less than three weeks in.

He has midterms to study for, and corporate shill-dom to look forward to for it. Jeno should open the blinds - Jaemin isn’t here right now anyways, and Minhee’ll sleep through that, too - and sit down at his messy desk and get to work. He should study up on eigenvectors and eigenvalues - they’re easy, but they’re comfortable, and Jeno has started to like comfortable - or work through his solids textbook. He should, he should, he should.

Jeno doesn’t even pause between leaving the bathroom and climbing back into bed. Minhee shifts, and he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in beside her.

He has this moment, so he takes it. He doesn’t feel like he has many moments to himself anymore.

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[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 7 - [Reid x Reader]

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Summary: Reader and Spencer had quite the day together yesterday; but once they decide to spend Sunday together everything starts to change.

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Smut, Fluff, Angst, all in equal measure this chapter.

Word Count: 7.9k for Chapter 7

Content Warning: BDSM themes, talk of past partners not respecting boundaries/limits and just being a dick, talk of past partner’s infidelity, femdom, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, pegging, talk of drug use/addiction, degradation, language.

A/n: It’s a joke among my friends that I have a “do too much” gene. That gene is out loud and proud in this. We take a lot of twists and turns. I’d also like to apologize in advance for where we’re going in Chapter 8. But rest assured I’d never leave you or our love birds in angst for long.

-- Chapter 7 – “boys like you” --

Out of all the ways I had expected to wake up today, feeling warm lips pressing against my jaw then moving down my neck, while curly hair tickled my face wasn’t one of them.

I cracked my eyes open. “What are you doing, Doc?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

Spencer lifted his head to meet my sleepy gaze, a small smile on his lips. “You just look so pretty,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Is this okay? We haven’t talked about it, but can we do…” he trailed off awkwardly.

It’s rude to make my heart flutter this early in the morning. “You mean do ‘normal’ sex stuff?” He nodded quickly, his eyes wide. “Of course we can, Doc. There are people who have a 24/7 dynamic, but if you’re not interested in that, we can do more vanilla stuff in between.”

My nervous boy bit his lip, looking down at me thoughtfully, his arms braced on either side of my head. “I really, really liked what we did yesterday,” he mumbled, moving down to his forearms so his body pressed against mine. “But, if you’re comfortable,” he whispered against my skin. “I’d also like to touch you like this.” Spencer started kissing down my throat. “When you’re so soft and beautiful. When I can just focus on how good you feel.”

As he shifted down my body, he moved his fingers to the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for approval before he pushed it up. Spencer kissed the waistband of the panties I had slept in before his mouth started moving up my stomach, trailing wet kisses up, up, up, until he reached my chest. His left hand gripped one breast while his mouth moved to the other. I hissed at the sensation of his warm mouth covering my nipple. He worked it over with his tongue, sucking it into a burning point. Spencer’s hips were nestled against my pussy; I could feel him getting hard. It probably didn’t help that I was lifting my hips to grind against him.

He shifted his attention to my other breasts as his right hand moved to the waistband of my panties, toying with the elastic before they slipped under the garment. Those warm brown eyes were on mine when his fingers finally brushed against my slit, feeling how wet I was already for him. Spencer parted me with his fingers, gathering the wetness at my entrance before moving up to rub slow circles around my clit.

With one final flick of his tongue against my breast, my boy started to move down my body, withdrawing his hand from my pussy. I saw him smirk at my whine at the loss of contact. I moved my hand to grip his tangled curls, giving them a sharp tug. “You’ll pay if you tease me, Dr. Reid,” I warned, delighted when his body shivered in response to my words.

“That doesn’t really sound like a threat, Miss,” he replied, grinning up at me.

This is a dangerous game, Doc. “If you want to bounce on my cock again, baby, all you have to do is ask.”

Spencer’s lips froze on my stomach, his eyes moved back up to mine as he swallowed thickly. “C-can we do that and still do this?”

My heart clenched. My darling, darling boy. “You have a say in this too, Spence. I’m the dom, but what we do and how we do it is always a conversation.” He needs to understand that.

His eyes moved back down to my panty covered pussy; I saw him lick his lips subconsciously. Come on baby. Be brave, ask for what you want. “I-I think I’d like to have this…this, with you, first,” he whispered against my skin. “Then maybe we can…do that.” After he finished speaking his cheeks turned bright red.

“If that’s what you want, you won’t hear me complain.” I reached down to brush his curly hair out of his eyes. “Are you sure you’re up for it after yesterday?” I wasn’t so sure, but nobody knew his body better than he did.

Spencer leaned into my touch, his eyes fluttering closed. “I think so,” he muttered. “And if I’m not…you’ll be there to catch me?”

Nothing had ever wrecked me more than his question. Oh my god. “Always, my darling boy. Always, always.”  

He smiled and then opened his eyes before he continued moving down my body. His fingers hooked on my underwear, pulling them down my legs and tossing them away. Spencer’s lips connected to the skin of my thigh, right above my knee. His kisses felt almost reverent; he made me feel like a goddess that he was just happy to worship. I thought he would tease me longer, but once he got to the apex of my thighs, he parted me with his thumbs. His tongue flicked over my clit before he flattened his tongue, licking up my slit in one motion.

My fingers were still tangled in his hair; his eyes were closed while his mouth worked me over. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like this. I wanted to say something that would help me take my power back or do something to place myself firmly in charge of the situation. It wasn’t that I was submitting to him, we were just equal in this moment. Spencer was just a man who wanted to know me like this, who wanted to see my body wither underneath his and then watch me fly apart at his touch.

I was still terrified…but it was somehow different than before.

Spencer’s lips closed around my clit, sucking softly before he released it and began circling it with his tongue again. I groaned, my hips trying to rock against his mouth, instinctively seeking out that pleasure again. He opened his eyes to look at me before he chuckled.

“You-you’re gonna…fuck,” my words broke off when he wrapped his lips around me again, flicking his tongue rapidly against my clit. “Oh my god. Spencer, I’m going to kill you if you don’t make me cum,” I gritted out.

I felt his right-hand move between my thighs while his left arm came around my thighs to rest against my pelvis; his arm was like a bar to anchor me to him. "Then hold still," he said right as he slipped two fingers inside of me, curling them expertly.

My body was withering under his gaze. “I’m going to wreck you when this is over,” I said, no real fire behind my words. I could barely focus long enough to get them out.

“I’m looking forward to it miss,” that cheeky fucker said right before his mouth covered me again.

The movement of his hand sped up now that his mouth was on me again. I felt myself approaching my orgasm rapidly. “Spencer,” I whined, my hips still trying to move against his mouth. He just moaned against me, the vibrations causing me to clinch harder around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whimpered as my orgasm hit me; my back arched off the bed and my thighs clamped around his body, which he didn’t seem to mind. Spencer pushed his fingers against the flutters of my orgasm, helping me ride out the pleasure for as long as possible. He placed one final soft kiss on my clit before he moved up my body again.

“That,” he began, stopping only to place a soft kiss on my lips. “Was worth any punishment you give me.” His hand reached out to push my hair off my damp forehead before he cupped the side of my face, his thumb grazing over my cheek while he looked down at me. “You’re wonderful.”

The words were just whispered into the quiet of the room, but they hit me like a bus. I felt emotion try to clog my throat. He didn’t say I was beautiful or sexy, he said I was wonderful. And that meant so much more to me than I had expected. After yesterday he could have decided he wanted nothing to do with me or my sexual proclivities, but he was still here with me…because he thought I was wonderful.

My breathing was starting to even out, but my heart was still racing when I gave him a warm smile. “I don’t think that’s really worth a punishment,” I said, bringing my hands up to pull him down to my mouth. My tongue ran over the seam of his lips before he opened for me. I tasted myself on him when his tongue slicked against my own, a soft moan coming from his throat, right before I broke away. “It deserves a reward.” I kissed the tip of his nose.

The shift in my mood was almost instantaneous. My fingers moved to grip his face, demanding his attention. “Take your clothes off and lay in the center of the bed.”

Spencer scrambled off the bed and started ripping his clothes off. I couldn’t help but laugh at him. “You’re very desperate this morning, aren’t you Dr. Reid?”

He was moving on to my bed, his cock was hard, his stomach muscles tense when he spoke. "Yes, Miss."

I opened the truck at the end of my bed. I had cleaned up everything last night while Spencer sat on my couch looking for something to watch. He’d offered to help, but I always thought of that bit as part of aftercare, especially after a sub drop. I pulled out my harness and the smallest dildo that attached to it. It was about 5 inches as opposed to the 7 inch one I fucked him with yesterday. I didn’t want him overwhelmed just yet, and for what I had in mind, the smaller one would be easier for him.

After strapping myself into the harness, I attached the dildo, never looking up at him. “Don’t you think that’s a little pathetic, Dr. Reid? Being so desperate to be fucked that you’re rushing to comply with what I say?” I grabbed the bottle of lube before I shut the lid of the trunk “You’re a very needy boy.”

I climbed onto the bed, staying on my knees while I regarded him. “But you were a very good boy yesterday when you took my cock so well,” I said softly, running my index finger down his face. “And you were such a good boy when I came all over your face.” My head tilted to the side, pretending to consider him. “Do you think you deserve a reward?”

“Please, Miss,” he whispered, his eyes moving from the dildo to my face.

So pretty when he begs. “Alright Dr. Reid,” I said, moving to sit down beside him. “I’m going to lay down and I want you to show me how badly you want me to fuck you. I want to see you suck my cock. If you suck it well enough, I’ll fuck your pretty ass again.”

Spencer moved to his knees while I shifted into his former position. “Thank you, Miss.”

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his mouth around the dildo, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucked, his eyes closed. “You’re doing very well, Dr. Reid. It’s a pity you’ve never had a real cock in your mouth.” I tangled my hands in his hair, pulling just enough to hurt. “Would you like that, Dr. Reid? Would you like to have a real cock down your throat before some pretty man fucked you?”

My words were only meant to turn him on, but Spencer’s head lifted up from his task. His remarkably colored eyes were filled with need and desire when he looked up at me. “I just want you,” he whispered.

He is going to ruin me. I licked my lips, suddenly feeling something deeper than I had felt before. “Come here, Dr. Reid.” He regarded me curiously. “I want you to straddle me. You have to finish getting my cock ready.” It was easier to focus on this than the emotions swirling inside of me.  

Spencer moved over me, his legs on either side of mine while he sat lower on my legs, the dildo in front of him. I handed him the lube. “Go ahead, baby.” Normally I’d want to warm him up first, but he took the plug so well yesterday and this dildo was barely any bigger than that, so I didn’t see the need.

He put some lube on his hand before he gripped the dildo, slicking it up. When he was done, he looked up at me again; I examined the dildo before adding more lube. “You’re gonna bounce on my cock Dr. Reid. You’ll need a bit more than that,” I teased.

Once I was satisfied, I patted his thigh. Spencer was biting his lip, looking needy with precum almost dripping from his cock, but he also looked slightly unsure. I’ve got you, nervous boy. You have to know that by now. I wanted to remind him of his safe words, but I knew he remembered. His nerves were more about disappointing me, I realized; which was never even possible.

He moved to hover over the dildo, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. I gripped it and put it in position at his entrance. “Okay, go slowly baby. I want to watch.” A whine came out of his mouth at my words as he slowly started to lower himself on me. “I don’t know why I was worried about you riding my cock, Dr. Reid. You’re such a dirty boy, you were practically made for this, weren’t you?”

“Yes Miss,” he moaned, his eyes closed tightly, and he lowered down onto the dildo completely.

I uncapped the lube again and put some in the palm of my hand. “You’re very pretty like this, Pretty Boy. A cock in your ass, your cock so hard it hurts, your face flushed. Move,” I commanded. “Ride me. Show me what a dirty boy you are, Dr. Reid.”

He started shifting then, a gasp coming out of his mouth as he started to slide up and down. “It feels so much deeper this way, Miss.”

Chuckling, I wrapped my hand around his cock, causing his movements to falter. “I didn’t say you could stop.” I squeezed his cock roughly before I began to stroke him. “I wonder what everyone would say if they knew how you spent your weekend,” I said as he started to move again. “The sweet, innocent Dr. Spencer Reid, being a whiny, desperate little cock slut all weekend.” He whimpered, his body starting to move faster. “You’re a pretty cock slut though. We’ll have to do this in front of a mirror one day so you can see how well your ass takes this cock.” He is so fucking hot. I could feel my pussy dripping as he started to move faster.

“Miss,” he whined out again.

I started jerking his cock faster, twisting my hands near the head. “What is it, baby?”

“I-I’m close.” His eyes were screwed shut, his movements starting to flow a bit, a needy moan coming from his throat from trying to hold back.

“Don’t slow down,” I said, giving him a small smile. “This is your reward, darling boy. Fuck me. Fuck your pretty ass on to my cock until you cum.”

My words had the desired effect. His pace increased again, my hands continuing to slide over him. “Oh, my god,” he gasped as his orgasm hit; I felt his cum land on my chest and stomach, his motion slowing while my hands continued to stroke him softly.

When he came back down from his bliss, I looked at him, watching for any signs of the emotions that overwhelmed him yesterday. Obviously, I still planned to care for him, but I needed to know if sub drop was going to be a common occurrence, just so I could be better prepared. I didn’t see anything troubling; just my nervous boy still recovering from the force of his pleasure.

He smiled down at me, his eyes soft. Only Spencer Reid could look at me like I’m beautiful when I’m covered in his cum. I decided not to tell him that, however. “Come on, Doc. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

--

After our shower and some cuddling on my couch, Spencer insisted on helping me strip and remake my bed. It was nice, doing these sorts of everyday tasks with him. Well, maybe cleaning up after I fuck him in the ass isn’t an everyday task, I thought, unable to control my giggle.

Spencer’s head snapped up at the sound. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, just this, Doc.” He didn’t understand completely what I meant, but he smiled at me anyway. “Anyway, after this morning’s activities we need to get you fed,” I declared, moving away from my bed once I was satisfied. “I don’t really have anything breakfast-y here, so we can order in or we can go out for breakfast. Did you bring some clothes?”

Spencer nodded, “I did.” He shifted nervously. “W-what are you doing for the rest of the day?” he questioned, not meeting my eyes.

“I don’t have anything planned, Doc.” What are you up to, Dr. Reid? “I did most of my stuff yesterday morning before you came over. What are you doing today?”

In spite of what we did last night and this morning, he was still so shy around me sometimes. His cheeks flushed a darker pink. “I…I was wondering if I could spend it with you?” He sounded so fucking hopeful it made my chest ache. “If…if that’s okay? I know we were together a lot yesterday too...” his voice trailed off.

I wasn't sure how I would have been able to refuse him when he asked me like that, but what's more alarming is that I didn't want to refuse him. I could say my decision was based on aftercare because I thought he needed me, but that wasn’t really true. I wanted to spend time with him, which was really beginning to scare me if I thought about it. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.”

--

That’s how I ended up having one of the best Sundays of my life with Spencer Reid. We’d went to a small restaurant by my apartment for breakfast. He told me about his favorite books and how his mother used to read to him before her schizophrenia became so bad that she wasn’t able to anymore. We talked about our experiences in college, which were vastly different. Spencer told me about all the special accommodations that were made to get him through the FBI academy.

We walked around my neighborhood for a while after that. I showed Spencer some of my favorite places. I brought him to my favorite coffee shop, which was a big hit, but I think any coffee shop was a hit with my boy.

When it reached the midafternoon, we started discussing dinner. I was the one who had suggested we make dinner together, which seemed to delight my boy. After stopping by the market to pick up our ingredients, I mentioned that we should go back to his apartment. I loved my apartment but something about Spencer’s felt homier. He was more comfortable there. We cooked together in comfortable silence. He would occasionally brush his hand across my back or start rambling about some fact that just popped into his head.

It was the best day I had had in a long, long time.

We were finishing dinner when Spencer spoke. “Can I ask you something, y/n?”

I shot him a look. "Yes, Spencer," I said dryly. This man.

“It might make you uncomfortable,” he hedged.

Crap. I kept my tone light. “Well, considering what I did to you last night and again this morning, I think you deserve to make me squirm a bit.”

I loved the way his cheeks flushed at my words. He reached out to brush his fingers over the back of my hand. “I wanted to talk about…” he trailed off. Looks like you’re the uncomfortable one, baby.

“You want to talk about why I don’t have sex.” It wasn’t a question; I knew him well enough to clock the nervousness in his eyes. Only one thing would make him so anxious when it came to me.

He nodded tightly. “I do.” Spencer squeezed my hand, almost as a plea for my honesty and attention. I raised my eyes up from my plate to meet his. “I understand if you don’t…but, I just…”

I took in a deep breath through my nose, holding it while I considered my options. “No, I know. You deserve to know. You’re not just my sub, you’re my friend,” I dropped my gaze then, like a coward. “You might be my best friend.”

The way he squeezed my hand this time felt different. “You’re more than just my best friend, y/n.”

Fuck. He’s gonna break me. We sat together in silence for a few moments while I tried to find a place to even begin to tell him about this. I almost wanted to tell him, but it was a pain I had carried around for so long that it had become a part of me. I wasn’t sure how to let that burden down.

“There was a case right before you joined the team,” he began suddenly, pulling my gaze to him. “I was checking out a lead with JJ…and we got separated. The unsub found me. He had D.I.D. One of his alters was his father, who was abusive, the other was the archangel, Raphael." His eyes were staring across the room at one of the walls in his apartment, but they were unfocused. “Tobias used drugs to survive his father’s abuse. So…after the alter father tortured me, he gave me the drugs to help me survive it.”

I reached out to grasp his hand tightly. “Spencer, you don’t have to do this.”

He turned his hand over, lacing his fingers through mine. “I know.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “I got addicted to what he gave me; dilaudid. Hydromorphone. Whatever you want to call it…So much had happened already, you know? Elle got shot and left without saying goodbye. I almost got the entire team killed because I wrote letters to my mom because I was too much of a coward to go see her. And taking dilaudid made it all easier.”

Tears were silently streaming down my face. “I’m so sorry, Spence. I’m so, so, so sorry. But none of that was your fault. Addiction is a disease.”

He moved his eyes then, refocusing his gaze on my face. The hand not holding mine reached up to wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Are these for me?” His voice was astonished. Like me crying over him was a miraculous thing. You’re the most wonderful thing, darling boy. My throat was clogged with emotion, all I could do was nod.

Spencer’s smile was soft. “You don’t need to cry, y/n,” he whispered. My boy shifted in his seat slightly. “You didn’t ask me when I stopped using.” It was just a statement of fact.

“Because it doesn’t matter,” I said fiercely. I had seen him without his shirt several times now. I hadn’t noticed any marks on his arms, meaning they must have had time to fade enough to not be too visible, but it wouldn’t matter if I had. “If you’re still using, we can get you help. And if you’ve already beaten your monster back, then all you need to know is how fucking proud of you I am.”

Now my boy’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I-…,” he cleared his throat. “I still struggle. I still have to go to meetings sometimes. But…there are things that make fighting that monster easier.”

I dropped his hand, lifting both of mine to cradle his face. “You’re the most remarkable human being I’ve ever met, Spencer.” I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And I couldn’t be prouder of you even if I tried.”

His hands covered mine, his eyes still misted over. I stood up from my chair and crossed over to him. Pushing away from the table, he made room for me to sit on his lap. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face against his neck. Spencer’s hands moved up and down my back, occasionally running over my hair. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, causing me to press one to his neck.

“My monster seems pretty stupid in comparison,” I muttered into his skin.

“Hey,” he said, gripping my shoulder to pull me back. “You can’t compare your struggles to someone else’s. Just because someone might be in a ‘worse’ situation doesn’t mean your situation is any less valid or less painful.” His words were firm as he looked into my eyes. “Pain is pain, y/n.”

With a sigh, knowing he was right, I got up and moved back over to my chair at his kitchen table. Be brave, y/n.

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew I was still struggling. He reached out to push my hair behind my ear. “You’re so wonderful, y/n,” he said softly. “Nothing you tell me will ever change my mind.” His eyes were filled with something else now; something much more dangerous. Something I wanted so badly but was too terrified to grab.

Fuck. His words made my heart flutter and my stomach drop. It’s just leftover emotions from last night, I told myself. It’s not real. It wasn't a secret that BDSM relationships could cause intense emotions, especially right after a scene. It hadn’t even been 24 hours since his sub drop. It’ll pass, I reasoned with myself.

I offered him a tight smile. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning,” my boy said simply.

“Right,” I chuckled. “Well, I met him when I was 22, almost 23. We were together for about a year.” Eleven months and four days, but who’s counting. “He knew I was into BDSM things. He said he was a switch, which means he-“

“Could go from dominate to submissive and back again,” Dr. Reid interrupted, earning a chuckle from me.

“Correct as always, Doc.” I considered my next words carefully. “Switches aren’t uncommon, but I hadn’t ever been with one. I can see the appeal of being submissive but…it’s just not something I find particularly appealing for me. I like the power and control I feel being a dom; despite the fact that submissives really hold all the power in BDSM dynamics.”

Spencer nodded. “You never call it a lifestyle.”

“That’s because I don’t think it is. I think it’s a kink. Some people can certainly have a 24/7 dom/sub relationship, and that’s fine. But…I don’t know,” I mused. “That’s never felt authentic to me personally and the relationships I want. I mean, I loved tying you up and fucking your cute little ass last night.” I chose my words on purpose, hoping to get a reaction. I was rewarded with a groan and a blush on his cheeks again. “But I think if you do it all the time it could become…”

“Routine,” the good doctor supplied.

“Exactly.”

Dr. Reid looked thoughtful. “I did some research about switches before we talked about…everything. The thought of being dominant makes me nervous. I don’t…I don’t think I would enjoy it very much.”

"I don't think you would either, but you never know until you try." My next words were harder to get out of my mouth. "If you ever get the chance, you should find someone to explore that with," I said that even though the thought of him finding someone else to explore anything made my stomach sour.

Laughing a bit to ease the tension, I got back on topic. “Anyway, he said he was a switch, and he said he was fine with the fact that I wasn’t. And it seemed like he really was fine…for about 6 months, anyway.” Fuck, this is hard. “That’s when the comments started coming. He kept saying that he ‘didn’t see what the big deal was’ and that ‘if I really loved him, I should trust him’. It wasn’t about trust for me; I trusted him completely.” My voice was getting thick with emotion. “Which was my mistake.”

I couldn’t look at my boy, my poor sweet boy who I knew was burning with anger at the thought of me being mistreated. That’s just who he was. If I stopped to look at him, I was afraid I would break down. “I finally gave in and said I’d try it. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so young, you know? I thought I loved him, but you shouldn't have to do that for someone you love." I took a deep breath before I forced the next words out of my throat. "I had my own hard limits, which he wasn’t a fan of. He was fine with being blindfolded, but I wasn’t. Especially not for my first scene like that.” My voice broke on a choked sob.

Spencer stood up suddenly, pulling me with him. I was bewildered when he pulled me out of the kitchen and lead me into his living room. He placed me on the same couch cushion I had been on the first time he kissed me. My boy didn’t say anything, he just leaned back against the couch and pulled me to his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, offering me all the strength he could give, but he never said a word.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why is he doing this to me? He was the sweetest man I had ever met…and he wasn’t even fucking trying to be sweet. He just wanted to comfort me. Spencer’s hand lay flat against my back, moving against me every so often. I let out a shaky breath, bringing my hand to wipe away the stray tears on my cheeks. Before I started speaking again, I gripped his shirt in one of my hands. I know he was holding me, but I felt like if I held him it would somehow anchor me to this moment; this safe moment with my darling boy.

“He didn’t break any of my hard limits, but he tried too. But even before that…his demeanor felt wrong. I wasn’t comfortable. Then I saw him pull out a blindfold. So, I said my safe word.” Spencer’s arms tightened around me just a fraction. “I know he heard me the first time, but he pretended like he didn’t. Like he was giving me a chance to change my mind. He kept going until my eyes were actually covered. I had never been afraid like that before.” Anger burned in my belly when I thought of that day. “I screamed at him. He finally stopped. He pulled the blindfold off and was cursing at me under his breath.”

“I’m glad he stopped, but he shouldn’t have put you in that position.” Spencer’s voice was hard; it was the same voice I heard when he spoke to unsubs. My nervous boy was furious at this man for hurting me, but he was trying to keep himself in check.

I just nodded against his chest. I knew that now, but back then the betrayal was so cutting. "He untied me and then he just left. He didn't say a single word, he just left. I tried to call him, text him. He just didn't answer." My words no longer held any emotion; I always had to detach myself a bit when I thought about how we ended. "When he finally called me back, I was furious. I was so worried about him. He just laughed, Spencer. He just fucking laughed at me. Then he told me he had been busy finding 'pussy that was worth his time'." I let out a breath. "It hit me like a truck. I asked him if he was serious, and he said we were over. That I wasn't worth the trouble. I wasn't what he needed. I never heard from him again.”

Tears were spilling down my cheeks in earnest now. “I was so stupid, Spencer. I was so fucking stupid to even become involved with him in the first place. He wasn’t even a real member of the BDSM community; he was just some fucking asshole that thought it was a fun idea to pretend to be a dom because he didn’t like women.”

Spencer was quiet for a few more moments, his hands never stopped moving across my body, up to my hair, down to my lower back. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”

I was embarrassed now even telling this wonderful man about the stupidest thing I’d ever done. “I decided then that I would only have sex and relationships on my terms.”

“And you couldn’t trust anyone enough to let them have that piece of you,” Dr. Reid finished for me. All I could do in response was nod again.

He pulled back, bringing my body away from his so he could look into my eyes. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.” His words were soft as he wiped the tear trails from my cheeks. “He didn’t deserve to even look at you. You’re kindness and sunshine personified.” My tears threatened to start again while he spoke; his voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. “That’s why the people we help always reach for you. You make everyone feel safe and warm. That’s why I could never look at you before. I felt so flustered just being near you.” He brushed my hair behind my ears, a smile tugging at his mouth. “I wasn’t even nervous because you’re beautiful, which you are. But your beautiful inside, and it just shines out of you.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. I released his shirt, moving my hands up to cup his jaw. I brought his mouth down to mine in a kiss that said everything I was too afraid to say. It was soft and warm and so sweet.

Spencer’s hands gripped my waist lightly as his lips moved over mine. He didn’t attempt to deepen the kiss; my boy was just happy to be here with me in this moment.

But I wasn’t. My soul was exposed to him for the first time and now that I had finally lowered that wall all of these feelings rose up inside me. Feelings I had tried to keep buried for such a long time. I pulled my mouth away from his to look at his beautiful face. “Spencer,” I whispered. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to even begin to say what I wanted to say.

He moved his hands up my body. His right hand cupping my cheek, his left hand lacing my hair through his fingers. I think he knew. He always knows.

I don't know who moved first, but our mouths crashed together in a rush of lips, tongues, and teeth. I moved up onto my knees, tangling my hands in his hair while I moved to sit astride his hips. My hips started rocking against him, his hands were running all over my body, first cupping my breasts before moving to my ass, gripping me tightly to encourage my movements above him. Spencer trailed kisses along my jaw, moving down to my neck before sucking my skin into his mouth. He lavished his tongue over me before he nipped me with his teeth. I let out an embarrassingly loud groan at the sensation. "Spencer," I breathed. "Baby, take me to bed."

He pulled his head back to look at me, his gaze was questioning. “Are you sure?”

I had never been surer of anything in my life. “Now.”

Spencer lifted me off his lap before he rose to his feet. He extended his hand towards me, giving me another chance to change my mind. I laced my fingers with his and followed him into his bedroom.

We had spent so much time together, done so many things, but this was the first time I had ever been in his bedroom and I couldn't even be bothered to look at it. The second we crossed the threshold my lips were back on his. He pushed me backward until the backs of my knees hit his bed. I reached for the bottom of his shirt, pulling at it impatiently. Spencer broke our kiss with a smile, pulling his shirt over his head. I quickly rid myself of my shirt and my bra before he was on me again. Our chests were flush against each other as he moved over me, his pelvis settling against mine. He was hard in his pants; I could feel it pushing against me while his hands moved down to cup my breasts.

Spencer's mouth latched onto my nipple while I tried to undo his pants. I felt so frantic. I had never needed anything in that moment the way I needed to feel his skin underneath my hands. He brought one hand to his waistband to help me along, never once removing his mouth from my chest. I was squirming against him; the only sounds in the room were our heavy breathing and my strangled moans. Finally freeing him from his pants, I pushed them down his hips.

He broke away from my chest with a groan when I wrapped my fingers around his cock, giving him a few pumps. He rose up on his knees, his hands going to the waistband of my pants, tearing my clothes down my legs. He moved back over me, kissing me again while he kicked the last of his clothes from his body. I moaned against his neck when I felt the fingers of his right-hand ghost over my clit, which caused Spencer to smirk. We had already established last night that he would turn into a whimpering mess for me when I pulled his hair, so I put my hands in his hair tugging near the roots. Now it was my turn to smirk when he whimpered at the sensation.

Spencer’s mouth moved down my collarbones, through the valley between my breasts, over the curve of my stomach before I pulled his hair again, this time to get his attention. His lust-filled eyes snapped up to meet mine. "No?" He questioned softly; his breath hot against my lower belly.

I shook my head. “Come here.” He complied quickly, his mouth finding mine again before his hand went back to my pussy. Two of his long fingers thrust into me, moving at a slow pace while his thumb ghosted over my clit.

My back arched. “Spe-Spence, stop.” His body stilled; his hand withdrew instantly. My perfect boy.

“What is it, y/n?” His golden-brown eyes searched mine. He looked so afraid that he had done something wrong, that he’d upset me somehow. Not possible, darling boy.

I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. “I think I’m ready if you are.”

Spencer’s entire body stilled. “R-ready for what?”

There’s my nervous boy. “You know what, Doc. I want to be with you in every way.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes closed while he let out a long breath. “You want to…you want to have sex…with me?” His voice was dripping with disbelief.

I couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled out of my mouth. "I've had sex with you already, Doc."

My boy’s eyes opened to meet mine before they fluttered closed. He brought his head down to rest his forehead against mine. “This is different.”

“I know.”

“Y/n…are you sure? I don’t…I don’t want this to be something you regret because…”

He pulled back to look at me, wanting me to see what he couldn’t say. He didn’t want me to regret this because he never would. My darling, darling boy, this wonderful man, couldn’t bear the thought of me giving myself to him like this only to call it a mistake later.

“I’m sure.” I brought my fingers up to his lips, tracing them, taking in every single detail of his beautiful face. “I want it to be you. I need it to be you.” I leaned up to kiss him softly, letting the ache that was in my heart flow freely through me. “I trust you.”

“I want to,” he said softly. “I want to be inside you more than I’ve ever wanted anything. But what if it isn’t what you-“

“Don’t,” I whispered against his mouth. “This is what I want. You are what I want. Just be with me. Please? Spencer, just be with me now.”

He lowered his head, his mouth coming closer to mine. “You’re breaking your rules,” he stated with a small smile on his face.

“You should know by now that I’d break every single one of them for a boy like you.” My words were true. He has to know. “Just kiss me, Spence.”

His mouth sealed over mine in a kiss so sweet it made my heart ache. He laid between my thighs; his hardness pressed up against me. So close but still not close enough. My tongue brushed against his lips, begging for entry. His tongue moved against mine while he brought his hand up to my breast to run his fingers over my nipple.

He broke our kiss, shifting his body awkwardly. “Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m doing. I don’t want to crush you. Or hurt you.” The tips of his ears were pink, and he started chewing on his bottom lip.

Oh, my nervous boy. You know I always have you. “I can fix all of that, baby.” He was more prepared this time when my leg hooked around him and I flipped us over. I braced my palms against his shoulders, smiling down at him. “See? Crisis averted, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer let out a soft groan at the use of his honorific. "Thanks, Agent y/l/n." He reached up to push some of my hair back from my face. "Do you want me to get a condom? I don't actually know if I have any; and if I do…they might be expired," he said with an awkward chuckle filled with self-deprecation.

“I’m okay without one if you are, baby.” The choice was always his. “If you don’t have any here then I’ll go to the closest store and get some. Then I’ll jump you the second I get back.”

“I-I want to go without one. I want to feel you.” His hips were starting to shift under me, even during this he was still such a needy boy.

I leaned down, my lips just barely brushing over his. “Good. Because I want to feel you. I’ve seen you come undone before, but never like this.” I kissed him firmly. Our kiss quickly turned frantic. One of his hands was on my hip, fingers digging into my skin; his other hand was back on my breast, pinching my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

His cock kept brushing against my center, never quite where we both needed it to be. I reached between us, lifting my hips as I lined us up. Spencer groaned, his eyes never leaving the sight of his cock against my pussy. “I-I don’t know that I’ll be any good at this,” he cautioned.

"It's already perfect, Spencer," I said because it was.

I slowly started to sink down on him, my eyes never leaving his face. I didn’t have his eidetic memory, but I wanted to remember every single second of this. His hands gripping my hips, his hair a wild mass of curls, his teeth biting his bottom lip so hard I’m surprised it hadn’t started bleeding.

It was hard to be focused on him, of course. I had been so caught up on how this would feel for him, I hadn't considered how it would feel for me. My body was slowly stretching around him. Every part of Spence Reid was consuming me. He was all I could think about, he was all I could feel.

“Fuck," he breathed when my hips met his when he was totally sheathed inside me. My hips started to shift but his hands held me in place. "You-you have to give me a second."

I smiled at that. “Are you doing okay, Dr. Reid?”

He chuckled without any real humor behind it. “I think okay it an understatement.” His hand came up to grip the back of my head, pulling my mouth down to meet his. I felt him lift his hips up, driving himself further into me, the sensation caused me to gasp into the kiss.

“You’ll pay for that,” I mumbled against his lips.

“Looking forward to it.”

This man. I started moving, pushing my hip back slowly at first, my lips were attached to Spencer’s neck. His hands were roaming all over my body. His soft groans were just breaths against my ear.

I hadn’t remembered sex feeling like this. Maybe it never did before, maybe it only felt like his because it was with Spencer. This felt like so much more than sex. So much fucking more.

My pace increased; I was unable to hold back any longer. Spencer's hips lifted to meet mine, he must have felt the same frantic need I did. "You have no fucking idea how good you feel, y/n.”

I moved to sit up, bracing both of my hands on his stomach. Spencer bit into his lower lip so hard it whitened when I started sliding my body up and down his cock. He moved his hand from my hip to my lower stomach, bringing his thumb to circle my clit.

“Fuck, Spencer.” I started moving my body faster, ignoring the burn in my thighs. My nails were dragging against his skin as I moved closer and closer to my release.

“Y/n,” he groaned. “I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.” His thumb sped up against my clit. “Your pussy keeps getting tighter. You’re close, aren’t you?”

All I could do was nod, my motions still frantic.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, y/n.”

“Spencer don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop.” I was chanting those words when my orgasm finally washed over me, my pussy cumming all over him. I fought to keep my eyes open despite my pleasure. I had to watch him. The beautiful Dr. Reid, his eyes moving all over my body, memorizing every detail of this. I squeezed around him one final time. His hands were on my hips, holding me against him when his hips lifted a final time. With a groan of my name, Dr. Spencer Reid came undone underneath me.

He was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen.

My upper body all but collapsed on top of him. His hands moving to rub over my back, his mouth pressing kisses against my hair. I pressed my lips against his chest before I rested my head right over his pounding heart.

I couldn’t have done anything else in that moment other than exist with this marvelous man.

“That’ was…” Spencer trailed off, still breathing hard.

“Everything,” I whispered. “It was everything.”

--

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[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (Reader Menstruates, but no pronouns used, reader is Marcus’ partner not specified as GF or BF)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Nudity, nothing sexual though, are boy is just here to help you)

Warnings: Blood because periods and your embarrassment, but Marcus is a sweetie and he is here to help you. 

Summary: There’s one thing about Marcus that differentiates him from all your past boyfriend’s and that is that he’s an adult man who acts like an adult man. He’s mature, he’s responsible, he’s kind, he’s pragmatic and romantic. So when you’re bleeding everywhere, it surprises you, but really shouldn’t, that he’s calm, collected and just wants to take care of you.

Notes: This is a theme I come back to, I think mostly because as an adult who menstruates there’s something deeply attractive about a man who’s a actual adult and can’t handle you bleeding from your vagina like an adult and not like a child who can’t even say the word period. 

Archiveofourown

There was never a worse feeling than the slick wetness of blood pooling between your thighs at 2 in the morning. There was not a worse way to find yourself roused from sleep than to feel that sensation as blood slips down your inner thighs and pools beneath you soaking into your bed covers and clothes, this wake-up call was made exponentially worse when you realised Marcus had slept over and that you’d never even had to broach the topic of periods with him. No, no conversation had ever happened, you had no idea what his attitude was, but now you’d gone and bled over your bedding and partly on him, if the feeling of blood pooling near where he was curled around you was anything to go by. You hadn’t expected to have to deal with this with your boyfriend of four months, but you supposed it was inevitable, seeing as it happened every month. 

With a groan you push the duvet off of the two of you and sit up to assess the damage. Turning on the lamp, Marcus barely stirs as you take time to figure out what’s happened. There’s a noticeable red spot through your pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet underneath has a large wet spot too, looking to Marcus you feel embarrassment warm your cheeks at the blood stains on his pajama bottoms where he’d been curled up with you. It makes you want to cry because this is not how you wanted to wake up or spend your morning and you’ll have to wake Marcus who already has to get up early to leave for a case at 5am. He shouldn’t have to get up early and he shouldn’t have to have his pajama bottoms ruined by your blood. 

“Marcus...baby.” You shake his shoulders gently, wincing at the feeling of blood slipping down your legs as you sit up and how gross you feel in that moment. You can’t believe it came a whole week early, a whole week, how were you supposed to predict that? 

“Mmm, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, deeper than usual if that’s possible and under any other circumstance it would make you want to curl up into him as he talked to you. 

“I...I started my period and there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry for waking you, baby, but you need to get changed...I...I’m sorry.” It’s the embarrassment and upset in your voice that wakes him up fully, forcing him to sit up and take stock of the situation. You’re right there’s blood on him, but that’s okay, his pajamas are the ratty sort that he should have thrown out years ago anyway. You're covered in it and the bed needs changing too, but it’s okay, he thinks, this is okay, he can do that simply enough. He’s never minded changing the bed. The sheets are dark enough in colour that it shouldn’t stain too badly. He’s calculating the best course of action, what to do first before he even notices your downward gaze and trembling lip.

“Hey...honey,” He’s cupping your cheeks in his hands, large and warm. They bring your focus back onto him and not the blood that is drying on your legs or the aching that’s starting up in your lower back and abdomen. “It’s okay, a little blood never hurt anyone. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He keeps his voice soft for you, hands stroking a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

He’s wide awake now as he steps out of your bed and walks to your side, hands gripping your own as he walks you backwards to the bathroom. The bed can wait until he’s got you into the shower and got you some clothes and whatever else you need. You come first and you’re clearly uncomfortable as the blood flows steadily downwards with the force of gravity.

“I’m so embarrassed, Marcus…” You can’t wait to get clean, you feel horrible and uncomfortable. The lure of warm water has you picking up the pace to the bathroom even though your stomach cramps are getting worse and worse with each second. 

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. If it’s about the blood…” He gestures to the red stains on his sweatpants that you just know aren’t coming out with how they’ve already dried, “I’m an adult, a little blood doesn’t bother me and I needed to throw these away anyway.” 

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up as he begins to help you out of your stained pajamas. He’s certain he can get the blood out of them if he gets them in a tub to soak fast enough, the blood is fresh enough. He knows they’re your favourite pair and he’d hate for you to have to throw them away, “I don’t ever want you to be ashamed of your periods, sweetheart, it’s natural. It’s okay.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You think back to the last couple of boyfriends, how they just couldn’t even stomach you mentioning your period let alone the sight of blood or a sanitary towel or tampon. He’s so vastly different in the maturity with which he’s handling this that it confuses you that he’s not shying away from you right now. 

“Baby,” He holds your face in his hands again once you're free of your clothes, “I don’t know what sort of guys you were dating before, but they should have helped you with this, okay? I’m not setting a new standard, I'm just doing what I should.” It breaks his heart to think that you’re ashamed of your body, of something that you can’t help and that you somehow think he’s something special for doing what anyone should do for their partner when they’re bleeding for days on end. It’s the least you should expect from him. 

“Now, get your cute butt in that shower and I'll get these clothes in a bucket and change the bedding. Do you want one of my shirts to change into? Where do you keep your tampons? Pads?” Taps you on the butt, a light tap urging you under the warm spray before gathering your clothes. 

“Yes please, I think there’s one in my closet? The flannel that you left last time? I’ve got some stuff in here in the cupboard,” You think to your stash under the sink, grateful you weren’t running out of anything. 

“The flannel, got it, honey!” 

He leaves you to your shower and strips the bed off first before anything else. The blood spot is pretty large, but it’s still wet and once again he’s pretty sure the stain will come out, especially in the darker fabric. His pajama bottoms follow, they’re probably a lost cause but he figures he might as well try and clean them just in case. He putters to your kitchen and fills your mop bucket up with cold water and stain remover, leaving the laundry in it to soak before putting it anywhere near a washing machine.

The flannel is in your chest of drawers and he grabs it along with a pair of your underwear that he’s sure are one of your comfier pairs. You’re still under the stream of hot water when he comes in to place them on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

“Got some clothes for you, sweetheart.” He takes a moment to watch you. He’s just happy to see you relaxed, sure it’s early in the morning and he’s tired, but seeing you brighten, that’s worth it. He can sleep on the plane later, it’ll take a few hours to get from DC to New York where his case is and he doesn’t mind being tired if it means your day goes a little smoother. 

“Thank you, baby.” You sigh out in response, the warm water easing some of the pain in your body. The cramps never feel as bad under warm water and your back ache eases a little bit at least. 

“Do you have a spare set of bedding?” 

“Umm…” You have to think for a moment, what did you do with your old bedding, did you throw it out? No, you wouldn’t have, surely not. “Maybe? Check the cabinet in the hallway?” 

He finds it hidden in the back of the hallway cabinet, the bedding doesn’t match the current colour scheme of your room but he doesn’t think that matters much when you just need a clean, comfy bed to fall into. He has the bed made by the time you’re walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, his flannel over your shoulders. 

“Get into bed, honey.” Marcus urges you, opening up the blankets for you and sliding in besides you. 

You reach over and turn the light off, “I’m sorry I woke you up at 2am…”

“It’s okay, sweetie, you need anything else?” He asks as he wraps himself around you, arms tight around your waist, face pressed into your shoulder, dropping little kisses there. His beard tickles a little, he’s still got the thing, not that you mind. He’s warm and he smells like comfort and that’s all you can really ask for even while your uterus is having a go at you.

“Just hold me till I fall asleep?” 

“I think that can be arranged.” A leg slips between yours, toes pressed into the back of your calf and it’s like having your own living, breathing weighted blanket. He becomes a comforting weight at your back, a warmth that has your eyes drooping and you yawning into your pillow. 

                                               -------------------------

The next time you wake up it’s to say goodbye to him at 5 in the morning. He demands you stay in bed, giving you a longer than necessary kiss on his way out and making sure the laundry is in the washing machine before he leaves. You miss him the moment you hear the front door shut, but allow yourself to nuzzle back into your covers and fall back asleep. The lethargy you always feel around your period hitting you like a truck already. 

Work for the next few days is a killer. Your back aches, your stomach keeps cramping so hard you want to bend yourself in half to relieve them. You’re constantly hungry, constantly tired, and everything your co-workers say gets on your nerves. Added to missing your boyfriend, who’s off trying to deal with another stupid art thief who couldn’t wait a few more weeks before deciding to steal a Picasso, you’re having a hell of a week and a hell of a period. You’re not sure you’ve had one this bad in a while actually. 

It’s a Wednesday evening when the door to your home opens and closes again, the sound of keys being thrown on the side and shoes being kicked off meeting your ears. You’re curled up on your sofa, a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach in a vain effort to relieve some of your discomfort. 

“Marcus?” You call out because it can only be Marcus, no one else has a key to your place. You’re a little confused because he always phones you when he’s on his way back from a case, but the rustling of bags and his deep voice calling down the corridor reassures you that maybe he just forgot, it’s certainly not a burglar. Unless, he has an evil doppelganger somewhere. 

“It’s me, honey!” He drops his bag by the door, he’ll deal with the dirty laundry later and follows the sound of your voice into the living room. You’re curled up amongst what looks like every blanket you own, mind numbing TV playing that you’re not even watching, your face is scrunched up in pain and you're clutching your stomach. This part of the reason he decided to forgo going back to his own place, he wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay, that and he really missed you.

He drops the shopping bags on the coffee table and crouches next to you, fingers pushing back strands of your hair and smoothing the harsh lines by your eyes as you wince. You’re warm to the touch and he hopes that’s normal for you and not a sign you’re getting sick on top of your period. 

“You okay?” 

“Just cramps. It’s okay...I’ll be okay., I’m just glad you’re back, I’ve missed you.” You ease into the soft feeling of fingers, the delicate little touches to your skin as rubs little circles into your temple and down your neck. You’ve missed this, missed him. You always miss him, but this period has hit you especially hard and you wanted him around more than ever.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, but you grab his tie and pull him back down. Nipping at his bottom lip he opens his mouth to your tongue, hand cupping the back of your neck before you’re gasping in pain as another crump hits you. Marcus pulls back and presses his forehead to yours with a sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Would a bath help? I stopped at the store on my way over, got some of your favourite bubblebath and those baked things that you like.” 

“Have I told you lately how you’re the perfect boyfriend?” You ask pressing kisses over his cheeks before settling for brushing your nose against his. You’re not sure how he manages to make you feel better even when you’re in pain and hormonal, but like a magic cure he does. 

“Mmm.. I don’t think so?”

“Well, you’re the perfect boyfriend and I love you very much.” You press another kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth before pulling back and settling back into your nest of blankets. 

“I love you too, why don’t you stay here? I’ll go run that bath.” He reaches down to grab the bubblebath from the bag and tosses you a few bags of your favourite snacks to munch on while you wait. You decide then and there that anyone who ever gave him up was an absolute idiot who couldn’t see that they already had the crown jewels. Why would you ever want anyone else?

He’s never understood your fascination with burning hot bath water, but he makes it how you prefer it even if it’s a tad hot for his tastes. If he wasn’t so sore from his flight, he might have tried to carry you to the bath, but the last thing he wanted was to drop you when you weren’t feeling great, so instead he just moves your half eaten snacks to the coffee table and pulls you gently by the hands to your bathroom. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way he helps you undress, it’s something you love about Marcus, that he can put aside his libido to help you get undressed and into your bath. There’s no touches outside of the caring and gentle ones, no comments about your nudity, just him helping you get into the hot bath water. You sink into it like it’s the finest feather bed, watching him undress himself, before sliding in behind you. Legs on either side of yours, chest pressed to your back. 

Your tub is a little small for the two of you, so you can’t stretch out completely, but that’s fine because you’d take it being a little cramped and Marcus being there over being on your own. He helps you wash, careful with you at every step, gentle as he whispers how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you and tells you about his case and how they managed to catch the gang of thieves this time. 

He massages the back of your neck and shoulders as you lie against him, working on the knots that have started to form over the last few days. A pop in your neck has you sighing and you’re thankful for the press of his fingers over your spin and through the knots that have been causing you to lose sleep while he’s been gone. 

The two of you stay there until the water begins to get cool, Marcus helping you out of the tub and drying you down with a towel. He collects your clothes and helps you get dressed for bed even though you can put your things on yourself. It’s nice that you don’t have to, that he carefully slides your legs into your pajama bottoms and drags your favourite sleep shirt over your head before pressing two quick kisses to your lips and ushering you into bed. 

“Marcus, where are you going?” You ask when he leaves you there, hand grabbing his as he walks past you to the door to the rest of your home. You just want him wrapped around you right now and can’t understand why he’d leave you.

“I’m going to lock up, honey, and grab your blankets. I’ll be back.” He gives your hand a squeeze. He loves that you want him around, after all the times he’s been more invested than his partner, this time, this time it feels right. You don’t just tolerate him, you love him. You want him there and it makes every little thing he does for you infinitely more rewarding when he knows you appreciate him for everything. 

“Quickly?” You’re cute staring up at him with a pout and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to take longer than is strictly necessary when he knows you're waiting for him to come back to bed and curl up beside you.

“Quickly.” He leans over you placing a kiss to your nose before going to lock up. He makes sure all the windows are shut, the front door locked, the television off, all before grabbing the pile of blankets you’d left on the sofa to return to you.

He throws them around you, letting you grab a few to snuggle up with, before climbing in bed beside you, spooning you from behind. He takes a deep breath and feels his body relax with the familiar smell of your shampoo and the feeling of your warm skin against his cheek. He could spend the rest of his life looking after you, curling up with you after coming back from a case and he would die happy that way. He’d happily take care of you through every single period and every single bout of sickness, just as long as he gets to be with you. 

“You need anything?”

“No, everything I need is right here, baby.” You sigh back into his arms, twisting a leg through his as he rubs a hand over your stomach soothing away the lingering pains with gentle circles.

[villainscomplex]

this, at least.

hey so anyway yall know how there was that big boom of angsty ship fics right

,,,,,i wanted to write one too and I have no other excuse

!!! MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH !!!

Also on: 

AO3

Wattpad

FFNet

Quotev

----------------------------------------------

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

And he does.

Asahi jerks awake violently, legs tangled in his blankets and hair plastered to the back of his neck, cold with sweat. He still feels like there’s — what? He doesn’t know the source of the pain, only that it is sheer pain, radiating through the core of his very being. It’d be easy to think it’s something simple, a bullet wound or head trauma, but the way it nestles into his chest and takes root there begs to differ.

In his dreams — nightmares, they prefer — Asahi is made of fear and desperation, of please, no, and the unnerving feeling that he’s forgetting something. There’s always someone with him, always whispering his name, fingers cold on his face.

It’s always the same scene.

He steps into a doorway and panic swells in his chest, but he’s never sure what triggers it. There’s nothing in the room but darkness, and then his feet come out from under him, and he is falling. The ground is far, and he falls forever and ever, until time stops short. He crashes into it in one graceless dive, shatters apart, and reforms at the seams with the sweet familiarity of agony.

He’s sure, with every fiber of his being, that something is missing. He doesn’t know what, or who, only that it is missing and the absence feels like a hole in his chest, a hollow place where the pain doesn’t reach.

Asahi leans forward in his bed, struggling to catch his breath. His hair falls like a curtain around his face. He can’t remember why he keeps it long, only that the idea of cutting it feels wrong, and so he lets it grow.

Suddenly, his bed feels unappealing and cold, and he staggers out of it into the quiet of his apartment.

If his life was a story, the narrator would say something like this — Azumane Asahi is a twenty-six year old man with severe amnesia and a wedding ring on a necklace, to which he doesn’t know the location of the missing pair. And that’s it, they’d say, just a detective with no memory and a lot of anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s important enough of a character to warrant any sort of life story.

His phone is where he left it when he’d arrived home the night prior, tossed onto his side table in a fit of weariness. The screen blinks dimly back at him, still miraculously alive, but only with about six percent to spare and at least three new messages to speak of. They’re all from one of the few people he actually texts, and even without looking at the contact name, Suga’s typing style is distinctive from Daichi or Shimizu’s.

He checks the time in the corner of his screen. It’s nearly five-thirty in the morning, which isn’t a bad time, but it’s still earlier than he normally gets up. Going back to sleep is about the most unappealing thing he can think of right now, so even if he isn’t a morning person, he plugs his phone up, clicks on the shabby TV, and goes to make a pot of coffee, listening to the steady drone of the early weather report.

The ring around his neck is a cold weight against his bare skin, small and heavy against the hollow where his throat meets his clavicle. It rolls and clinks softly against its chain as he moves, a quiet, ever-present reminder of a past he doesn’t remember.

It’s easy to make assumptions. He doesn’t know who has the pair to this ring, only that it feels too important to get rid of, so he keeps it around his neck. For all he knows, he was married once. Someone else had — maybe still has — the pair to this ring. He doesn’t remember being married or who his partner is, but he’s sure they must exist.

Maybe they’d left because he’d forgotten.

Asahi tucks the assumption away before his anxiety can take it and run. He’s got a life now and he can’t go ruining what he has by overthinking whatever he used to have. Lacking the vast majority of his memories hadn’t stopped him from rebuilding his life these past few months, bit by bit.

It’s only been a few months since the accident and even though he doesn’t remember it personally, that’s all everyone keeps referring to it as. The accident, like he’d gone and suffered a massive memory loss by total coincidence.

Asahi kind of hates it. He tries not to think too hard about it.

In hindsight, it hadn’t been an easy recovery. He supposes nobody ever really thinks about what would happen if they lost a chunk of their adult memories and nobody would tell them why. He’d had friends to support him through it, even if he had taken a while to remember the three of them, and because of their support he’d been able to get back on his feet.

He’s still a rookie at this detective work, but sitting down and poring over the facts and figures of the cases he’s investigating is oddly comforting.

Light peeks out from over the horizon as the morning settles in, blanketing the world outside and the living room within in a sheet of pale light. Asahi’s eyes ache from his lack of sleep. The bags beneath them have gotten worse, and he’s sure he’ll inevitably get scolded about them when he sees his friends again.

By the time Asahi arrives at his workplace, the city around him has come to life. It’s never quiet here by any means, but once the sun is up, it seems everyone takes to the streets at once. He leaves early to avoid the rush, but always inevitably catches the start of it and makes it just in time, stumbling into the doorway of the detective agency’s office.

“Hey, Azumane,” the receptionist greets with an easy smile, leaning over the desk to be seen, “just in time. Still relearning the trains?” Asahi isn’t too familiar with Narita, but the man is calm and rarely bothered by high stress situations, and he appreciates the cool head and easy attitude first thing in the morning. He’d been one of the first to make sure Asahi had felt welcomed here, and Asahi is eternally grateful for it.

“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, averting his eyes, “it’s a lot to get used to all over again. I keep hoping I’ll just jog my memory somehow and miraculously remember.”

Narita laughs. “I’m sure it’s somewhere in that head of yours.”

Asahi doesn’t stick around to chat much longer, heading up to the main office. There’s only two others inside, both at their desks doing very different things. Akaashi, ever studious, is hunched over a case file from a recent completion of his, scribbling away. Kozume, on the other hand, their resident cyber specialist, reclines back in his chair, tapping away at his phone and looking like he’s half asleep. “Azumane,” Kozume yawns, “there’s some files on your desk.” There are in fact — Asahi turns to confirm — files on his desk.

There’s also a boy there.

His back is to Asahi, but he can see the slicked black hair, wild and dark, sharp against the evident paleness of the boy’s skin. The boy visibly straightens when Asahi turns to look, whipping around in his chair.

Okay, no, a man. A grown man.

Asahi feels a little like deer in headlights, caught in the sharp stare of the man’s golden eyes, interrupted only by the equal shock of bleached blond hair in the forefront of his bangs. Asahi feels pinned in place by that unblinking stare, and it takes him a moment to remember to move.

He circles to his desk a little hesitantly, starkly aware of the other man’s stare following him the entire way around. It’s still on him when Asahi seats himself on the opposite side of the desk, and Asahi steels himself to meet it, smiling nervously.

“Hello,” he greets, “I’m Azumane. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting any clients today.” “I’m Noya!” The man declares, gives no further context, and slaps a file down in front of Asahi. “I need you to look into this.”

The words CASE CLOSED stands out in stark red lettering on the front. Asahi resists the urge to frown. It isn’t uncommon for them to receive requests to look into closed cases, but generally speaking, they’re a waste of money and time.

“Listen,” he starts hesitantly, “honestly, I’m still very new at this. Could I recommend you to one of our more experienced investigators?”

Noya shakes his head adamantly, looking appalled at the mere suggestion. “No!” He says, loud enough that Asahi flinches. “This is important to me! You have to do it!”

“I-”

Noya stares at him, lips turned down, eyes wide in a silent plea. Asahi takes the file.

There’s no photo inside, but it's very clearly labeled as involuntary manslaughter. The victim had only been twenty-five, but the details are absolutely minimal. There really won’t be a lot he can do with this, even if he does accept it. He’s sure the case is closed for a reason.

“Look,” he starts, raising his eyes.

Noya is gone.

Asahi leaps out of his seat, file in hand. Noya had just been there. He’s not surprised the man is fast, but Asahi hadn’t even accepted the case yet, and Noya hadn’t even stuck around to answer questions. Asahi races out of the office and into the entry lobby, head swinging from side to side in search of the shorter man.

“Narita,” he asks, leaning over the side of the receptionist’s counter, “did you see where that man went?”

Narita frowns at him. “What man? I haven’t seen anyone pass by.”

“I-” Asahi sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair hard enough to yank it out of his half bun and just resigns himself, tucking the file under his arm. “Nevermind. Thanks anyway.” Narita gives him another odd look as he turns away, returning to the main office. When he enters, Akaashi and Kozume both glance up strangely, matching the look Narita had previously given him, but Kozume loses interest much quicker than he’s gained it, as if this is a perfectly normal, everyday incident. Akaashi’s gaze tracks him all the way back to his desk, and only then does it fall away, leaving Asahi to his own devices. For a long time, Asahi just stares at the file. Case closed stares back at him, bold and red and final.

It isn’t to say that it’s quite uncommon for them to get a closed case to investigate. Generally speaking, it’s recommended to avoid closed cases. More often than not, they lead to dead ends and more broken hearts than when they began. The police may not investigate as much as private detectives, but they weren’t always wrong by any means. But Noya hadn’t given him too much of a choice in the matter, so against his better judgment, Asahi opens the file.

It’s almost pathetically small, three pages at most. There’s no photos, but from what Asahi can gather, it’s a twenty-five year old man who fell victim to an armed robbery incident, whose death was ultimately ruled involuntary manslaughter as a result. The culprit had never been caught, but the man’s partner had suffered some sort of collateral damage. There’s no further information on any of the three; the partner is unnamed and there are no photos of the man or the partner.

There’s nothing here that points to the case being anything other than what the file says, much less any sort of connection. He considers, briefly, that maybe Noya is the partner and wants the man brought to justice, but he doesn’t have any confirmation to this theory. It just seems like a home robbery turned homicide.

It’s essentially a dead end. There’s no address to begin the investigation and no family on the file to contact in regards. If Noya is the partner, Asahi could start there, but if he’d suffered some sort of trauma related to the incident, then Asahi has to take his testimony with a grain of salt. And this is all based on assumption — he doesn’t even know the extent of Noya’s personal involvement with this entire situation.

Noya hadn’t left him any contact details.

The thought strikes him abruptly, and Asahi sighs. This isn’t going to go anywhere without Noya’s cooperation. Asahi hadn’t agreed to investigate it in the first place. Resigned, he closes the file again and slides it underneath a few others on his desk, where it’s quickly forgotten in the wake of the rest of his work.

When he leaves that evening, files tucked away in his bag, the sun hangs low over the horizon, lethargic orange rays reclined across the darkening sky. It’s as beautiful as it is ominous, and Asahi ducks his head to avoid wandering eyes as he hurries to the train station, long coat swishing behind him.

The temperature sinks as it grows late, and despite his scarf, Asahi’s face burns with chill by the time he gets to the stairs leading down into the train station. People swarm around him, talking and huddling, faces as red as his own and stark with the relief of getting somewhere decently warmer.

Close enough to the rails to actually get on the train, but not close enough to get trampled by those trying to get good seating, Asahi tucks his chin into his scarf and takes a steadying breath.

He wonders if he was always an anxious person like this; had too much noise always been overwhelming to him? Had he ever walked with his head up, unconcerned about the opinions of those around him? Was this ever present bundle of nerves set deep in the square of his chest just a side effect of a tragic accident that nobody will tell him about?

He slides his thumb over the crest of the wedding ring on his necklace, a motion that feels like nothing but pure instinct, and then nearly yanks it clean off his neck when a hand grips his elbow, hard, and he flinches.

Asahi looks down.

Staring back up at him indignantly, lips fixed into a frown and golden eyes wide, looking as if he’s entirely unbothered by the cold despite being in nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts, is Noya.

“Azumane-san!”

Asahi is unbelievably shaken right now. After all, the odds that Noya would show up at the same train station as him were slim, even for this side of the city, but here he is, grip hard on Asahi’s elbow. If Asahi had gears in his head, they’d be stalling right now, and the little embodiment of his consciousness would be trying to restart it to no avail.

When the wires finally reconnect, Asahi gasps. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

The words come out more demanding than he intended, but it’s too late to apologize, so instead, Asahi strips off his overcoat, and then the coat beneath it. Goosebumps prickle over the nape of his neck where it’s exposed to the cold, and he hurriedly yanks the long coat back on, handing the other off to Noya. Noya, who has since let go, looks a little surprised as he accepts it.

“I’m fine!” Noya huffs, but he pulls the jacket on regardless.

The sleeves slip past his fingertips, effectively dwarfing him. Asahi thinks it would be rather comical if he wasn’t so upset at this precise moment, but even swallowed up by Asahi’s undercoat, Noya feels like a force to be reckoned with, a storm lying in wait.

Asahi can’t put his finger on it, but Noya’s brash personality seems familiar, somehow. Mentally, he goes through his limited list of friends. Sugawara fits the bill closest, but even his chaos is of a different sort.

The train whistle breaks him out of his thoughts. He spots the lights as it barrels down the tunnel.

“Have you solved the case yet?” Noya asks, gaze still fixed on Asahi, unwavering.

Asahi frowns at him. “Listen,” he begins, turning his gaze back to Noya.

His words die in his throat. Noya stares back at him, eyes glittering in the faint light of the underground station, wild hair stirred around his face by the gust of cold air the train brings with it. The doors hiss open, but Asahi doesn’t move to get on yet. People stream by them on their way on or off the platform.

He can’t say no. He doesn’t know what it is, but Asahi is suddenly resigned to seeing this through. Noya’s eyes are intense and focused, hard with determination and a type of fire that Asahi can’t remember ever seeing before. He can’t say no.

“I haven’t,” he says, “but I’m going to investigate it as best I can.”

Noya’s grin makes him think that perhaps this is the right decision after all.

The train whistles again. Asahi starts, whirling back around to the platform. Oh no, the train’s going to leave.

“Are you-” He begins, glancing back to Noya, intending to ask if he’s getting on the same train.

Noya is gone. Asahi stares incredulously at the spot where the man had been, dwarfed in Asahi’s coat. He turns, glancing a full circle around himself, trying to spot that shock of blond in the crowd, but no, Noya is gone.

Maybe he got on the train.

Asahi follows suit, tucking his overcoat a little tighter around him as the doors slide shut. The people on the platform all blur together in a mass of color as the train pulls away, but Asahi swears he catches the piercing stare of golden eyes. It’s gone before he can think too hard about it, and Asahi spends the train ride and subsequent walk home staring into space. He hadn’t gotten Noya’s contact info.

“I’m home,” he says to no one as he opens his door and steps in, taking his shoes off.

Maybe he should get a dog.

Sighing heavily, Asahi drops his bag onto the floor by the door, where it tips to the side and lets a few papers and files slide halfway out. He pays it little mind, figuring he can think about it later, and makes his way down the narrow corridor into the bedroom at the back.

It’s sheer muscle memory that gets him through his nightly routine, and by the time he lets his hair down and flops into bed, he’s too exhausted to think. The somber tendrils of heavy sleep drag him deep into the sheets.

He dreams. (He has nightmares.)

Wake up, wake up, wake up, the voice is saying. Asahi, please wake up. Please don’t leave me. Please, no. Please, no.

This time, when Asahi jerks awake, the sun is still low below the horizon and his phone reads 4:36 A.M, but there’s no chance of him going back to sleep so he dons a hoodie and decides to do something with himself. In the end, Asahi goes for a run. It’s been a while since he’s just gone out like this, so he takes the short route that loops through the backside of a local park. Asahi jogs what he can, but it quickly becomes clear that he isn’t nearly as in shape as he clearly had been once. He can tell he used to be muscular and healthy prior to the accident, but he’s hardly been focused on maintaining that post memory loss. Still, running feels natural, so he tries to keep it up.

He runs into Noya again. Asahi rounds the bend, huffs of breath forming white clouds in the chilly morning air. There’s only a handful of other souls up and about this early, and from what Asahi can tell, they’re all out running too. It’s a nice change of pace to get his mind off of everything, but it’s clear the universe has other plans. As he nears the park’s massive lake, he spots a figure sitting right at the bank of it, leaning precariously over the water.

Even from this distance and without his glasses, he recognizes Noya’s wild hair paired with the white t-shirt and black shorts combo. Noya’s back is to him, but he visibly straightens as the sound of Asahi’s footsteps approach, head twisting around to fix those ever startling eyes on the taller man. “Azumane,” his eyebrows pinch, “what are you doing here?” There’s this nagging feeling in his chest. It strikes him as odd again; something about Noya is so unnervingly familiar to him, but he can’t put his finger on it. He’s sure if they had known each other prior to his memory loss then someone as headstrong as Noya seems to be would have said something about it by now, but Noya doesn’t seem bothered like Asahi is. He shakes it off.

Something seems off. Noya is quieter, more pensive. His gaze has returned to the surface of the lake immediately after confirming that he knows the person approaching him. It’s a strange change from the loud, fierce boy Asahi has started to know him as. “Noya,” he greets softly, joining him carefully by the water. “I was out for a run. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” “Oh,” Noya seems to remember something, “I forgot your jacket. Sorry.” Asahi shakes his head. “It’s okay. You couldn’t have known I was going to come running. It isn’t like I’ve done this in a while.” Noya is staring at him again, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He’s frowning — it’s only a faint, downward quirk of the lips, but it seems so out of place on Noya’s features that it catches Asahi off guard. A matching frown slips onto his face.

“Have you made any progress?” Noya asks suddenly, peering up at Asahi intently. “With the case, I mean.” “Noya, it’s only been a night,” Asahi reminds him gently. “I’ll look into it more later, but nothing’s changed from when you asked me yesterday.” “Yesterday?” Noya echoes, as if confused. “Oh… Right. When you gave me the jacket. Okay.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asahi persists. “I’m fine! Listen, I’ve gotta go, ‘kay? I’ll catch you again sometime soon.” Noya takes off before Asahi can so much as consider asking about contact information. At this rate, he’s going to be stuck only contacting Noya whenever they happen to run into each other in town. Belatedly, near the tail end of his run, he realizes that Noya must live nearby, to have been at the park.

So why had he been all the way across town yesterday? Asahi glances back, as if the answer will appear behind him. The cold wind replies, whispering through the bare branches of the trees. He just can’t shake the feeling that something is too familiar about Noya to forget. Maybe it’s just the man’s strange tendencies or the way he seems so desperate for the case to be solved as soon as possible, but Asahi just can’t get rid of this feeling. He doesn’t know what it is yet, only that it feels too important to completely dismiss a third time.

So this time, he tucks it away in the back of his mind for safekeeping.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“Oi, Azumane,” Kozume leans around his laptop, “what was that new file you got? An investigation?”

Asahi starts at the sound of his voice. After the two loudest members of their agency had gone off on lunch, the room had finally become quiet enough for Asahi to focus on his research. His desk is in clutters, public records scattered across the surface, laptop balanced precariously on the corner and held in place only by half of a large, opened book. Asahi is in the middle of rereading the case file when Kozume speaks up. He's so focused that, in his surprise, he nearly takes out his laptop himself. Kozume just lifts one disinterested brow, strands of dark hair slipping back into their usual place over his face. “Uh,” Asahi begins, eloquently, “something like that. Client wants me to look into a closed case. I think he’s probably got some pretty personal roots in it, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him it isn’t a good idea to reopen old wounds.” “You’re too nice, Azumane-san.” Akaashi remarks from his desk without looking up. “Sometimes, it’s best to put a stop to it before it can start.” “Then again,” Kozume muses, “I guess we are getting paid for this, huh?”

They lapse into a mutual silence again.

Asahi feels like there are still eyes on him, but Akaashi is still looking at the paperwork on his desk and Kozume has returned to his laptop screen. The rest of the employees aren’t here, and Narita is presumably still at the front desk. With a faint frown, Asahi shakes the feeling away and returns his attention to the files.

His information is severely limited. That’s the biggest issue. If there had been an address on the file he could have started his investigation there, but Noya would be the easier source. The only issue with that is that Asahi still hasn’t gotten Noya’s contact information to ask him about it. That being said, he’s not even sure if Noya actually knows anything or if this just happens to be a personal investment of his. Asahi isn’t in the habit of prying about people’s personal connections to a case. As long as he can get their information and go on about his business, he’s content, but Noya is so forthright and intense that Asahi can’t help but be curious.

It bothers him, but he doesn’t know why.

“Oh,” says Kozume, voice breaking into Asahi’s thought process abruptly again, “another robbery. I wonder if it’s a chain?”

When Asahi looks back up, Kozume is still looking at his laptop, but now he’s leaning closer to the screen, visibly reading something. He turns away and wheels his swivel chair over to the side table by the door to retrieve the remote.

“Last I heard, there wasn’t any correlation between the places that were being hit.” Akaashi replies, gaze lifting from his papers. “They’re thinking it’s separate cases, but who knows. The police don’t read too into situations if the evidence is obvious.” “Lazy asses,” Kozume scoffs, clicking through channels on the overhead TV.

“Robberies?” Asahi speaks up, confused.

He hasn’t been actively keeping up with the news outside of early weather reports recently, a little more concerned with his own issues and his work. It’s more than enough to balance work and the whole memory loss thing, and while he definitely should be better about keeping up with the rest of the world, it hasn’t been his main concern as of late.

Kozume settles on a news channel. The news anchor is in the middle of reporting on the subject at hand — another local robbery. It’s the third in the past two weeks, but there’s no evidence to connect it to the other two. This one had targeted a tiny, one bedroom home on the city outskirts. Asahi frowns at the news coverage. He doesn’t understand why anyone would target a place where there was unlikely to be anything to be gained, but he feels bad for the homeowner. The newscast says they came out undamaged since they weren’t home at the time, but nonetheless, he understands the feeling of having your life uprooted suddenly.

Asahi shakes his head and returns his attention to the files before him, scribbling notes down on things to look into further and potential leads. He’ll have to remember to find Noya again and get his contact information this time. Noya is the best lead he has at this point, and hopefully he can get something out of the other man to get him somewhere in this seemingly dead end case.

In the background, the television drones on.

When evening gives way to the end of his work day, Asahi finds himself searching the rush hour crowd for the tuft of electric blond that he’s becoming so familiar with. He can’t figure out why he’s trying to find Noya here; after all, he’d come to the conclusion that he lives on the other side of town, so he doubts he’ll see him here. On the other hand, it’s possible Noya works over here too. It’d be a strange coincidence for him to be in the same working and living situation as Asahi himself, but it’d make sense as to why Noya had come to their agency in particular. It's possible that it's also the opposite way around, with Noya living here and working on the other side of town. All of the facts Asahi knows check out with one of those theories; it’d explain why Noya was at the train station, too.

But by the time he gets to the station, he hasn’t spotted Noya anywhere. Even amongst the people waiting on the platform, he can’t see the wild, dark hair, and there’s a pang of disappointment in his chest. He tries to ignore it, but it’s a persistent feeling, and more surprisingly, one that doesn’t feel new. He can’t imagine forgetting someone like Noya, but he’d forgotten someone like Suga already, so his memory loss isn’t discriminating.

The train whistles a warning. Asahi startles, hurrying on instinctively. He hadn’t even realized the train had pulled up. He looks for Noya one more time, but upon confirming that the other man is nowhere to be seen, averts his gaze to his feet. The train doors hiss shut around him, before it lurches into motion, pulling away from the platform.

It’s strange, he thinks, how lonely the platform looks disappearing behind them.

When the train comes to a hissing stop at his destination platform, Asahi’s phone begins to vibrate aggressively against his thigh. He waits until he’s clear of all the people to check it, unlocking the screen to several tests and a missed call from Suga. Just as he’s going to check the texts, Suga’s name lights up his screen again. Asahi nearly drops his phone in his haste to answer the call.

“Asahi!” Sugawara practically yells. “Have you been keeping up with the news?”

Asahi slowly brings the phone back to his ear as he walks, having held it away in his haste to avoid having his eardrums blown out.

“The news?” He echoes. “Like the robberies?”

“Yeah! Apparently, there was another one! I guess the person tried to fight back and get this - they ended up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds.”

Asahi grimaces. If all of these robberies are connected, then it could be a problem. Generally speaking, most robbers would flee if they were caught or met with resistance, but if this one had no qualms with hurting people, it could get dirty. Asahi is hoping they aren’t connected, but it’s starting to look doubtful. He’ll have to catch up on the situation when he gets home.

“That’s-”

Asahi cut off, turning his head to follow the abrupt streak of color that had caught his eye. He’s a few blocks from his apartment, at best, but now he turns around entirely, gaze searching. He spots it again just in time to watch it vanish through the door of a tiny coffee shop. Asahi hesitates.

“Asahi?” Sugawara calls from his phone. “Hellooo? Earth to Asahi! What happened?” “S-Sorry, Suga,” Asahi says quickly, feet already guiding him towards the building, “I have to go. I’ll call you back later, okay?”

“Huh? Hold on, wh-”

The line goes dead as Asahi jabs the end call button, shoving his phone unceremoniously back into his pocket as he enters the cafe. The bell chimes gently overhead as he pushes the door open, and someone at the front calls out a greeting that he only half hears. He’s busy thinking about how Suga will be upset with him later for hanging up so abruptly; he’s thinking that maybe he should feel a little worse about that than he does, and it has him wondering if he’s less of a friend for it. He’s busy thinking about how he’s sure to get an earful later, but his body is moving across the cafe, toward a booth in the corner where he can see the backside of dark, wild hair, and the small flick of a tag sticking up from the inside of a white t-shirt.

The man in the booth lifts his head when Asahi rounds the table, piercing gaze fixing onto the detective. It’s as if he comes back to earth all at once, awareness lighting his eyes and his expression picking up in something vaguely resembling surprise. “Asahi!” He half yells, slamming his palms into the table and standing in one motion.

Asahi flinches at the abrupt shout and one of the employees glances their way. Ducking his head bashfully, Asahi makes himself as small as possible as he slides into the booth across from Noya, reaching out to gesture Noya back into his own seat. Preferably, he thinks, as quietly as possible.

Luckily, Noya drops unceremoniously back into his seat, staring intensely at Asahi.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…” Asahi grimaces, knowing how strange this is going to sound, “I saw you coming in. You never gave me any sort of contact, so I haven’t been able to reach you for anything regarding the case.”

Noya visibly straightens. “Have you figured out something new?”

“Well, not exactly, but-”

“Oh,” Noya continues, cutting him off, “I don’t have a phone.”

Well, that certainly threw a wrench in things, didn’t it? It’s just Asahi’s luck, he supposes. Still, he’s got to figure out some way to keep up contact with Noya, since he’s Asahi’s only sure link to the case.

His phone buzzes incessantly in his pocket.

“Okay, then take mine,” Asahi grabs a napkin from the table, fishing a pen from the front breast pocket of his jacket. “And if you can, just let me know if you come across anything new. Can we meet again sometime here to sit down and talk? Like Friday?” Noya takes the napkin and with surprising tenderness, folds it, and tucks it into the pocket of his black basketball shorts. He’s staring at Asahi still, but Asahi can’t tell what he’s thinking about.

“Okay,” Noya says, “Friday.”

And there it is again; Asahi meets his gaze and he feels like he’s missing something, like there’s a piece here that he should be aware of. He can’t shake it, that feeling that he just knows Noya from somewhere, from before all this.

“Noya,” he breathes, “have we met before? Before you came in with the case?”

Noya scrutinizes him for a long moment, almost unresponsive, as if the question hadn’t even registered to him. There’s something off about the entire moment, the motionless state of someone who feels like he should always be moving. Slowly, his lips pinch into a frown, just a little downward tilt that looks so off on his features. His expression darkens, hooded over like a shadow fell across him.

He looks unsure. He looks scared.

It’s only for a moment, so quick that Asahi is sure it must have been his imagination because then Noya is laughing, loud and rambunctious and more like the one that seems familiar to Asahi.

“No way!” He decides. “You must be imagining things, Azumane-san! There’s no way you’d forget someone as cool as me!”

Asahi feels like his veins have frozen over. He’s cold down to the bone.

“Of course,” he agrees, smiling shakily, “that’s true.”

There’s a seed of doubt rooting itself in his chest, and Asahi is too scared to try to figure out the root of it.

He stands again, bidding Noya a good night, and hurries out the door before the other man gets another word in edgewise, but he feels Noya’s gaze follow him out the door. His phone vibrates in his pocket again, and he takes it out, preparing himself for the earful he’s going to get.

Something is reassuring about Suga’s ranting on the other end. It gets him home.

When he looks over the case again that night, he writes details about the recent robberies down on a notebook next to it. He gathers what he can from the news and more from the internet. Tomorrow, he’ll get more info on it from Kozume, and Friday, he’ll get what he can from Noya. He doesn’t know yet if he’s making progress here, but he’s hoping for the best.

At this point, it’s all he can do.

It isn’t until he’s getting ready for bed, braiding his hair back out of his face, that the thought strikes him. He’s thinking about the tiny coffee shop, about the bell over the door, about the way Noya had called him Asahi. He has the distinctive memory of introducing himself only as Azumane.

So where had Noya gotten his given name?

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

“You look different,” Noya remarks.

Asahi feels like he’s having deja vu. He hardly knows where the week has gone, and now he’s back at the tiny coffee shop with Noya. They’re seated in the same booth as before. Noya’s shirt tag is sticking out. Asahi has his hair loose.

“It’s the hair,” they say, in sync, and Noya grins when Asahi cracks a smile.

“Finally!” He laughs. “I was starting to think you couldn’t smile properly! You’re so nervous all the time that I was starting to wonder how you’d ended up in this line of work.”

Asahi tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Well, I’m sure it probably wasn’t my dream career, but I don’t remember enough about my old life to know how true that is. I guess it seems like a pretty unpredictable career, but it’s routine enough to be comforting.”

Noya frowns at him. “Whaddya mean you don’t remember?” Asahi winces. Outside of the fact that nobody else wants to discuss the accident, Asahi tries not to talk about it too much. Trying to remember gives him an intense migraine, and he hates the pitying looks he gets from it. He hates feeling helpless, and there’s this part of him that wouldn’t be able to handle it if Noya looked at him like that.

“I had an accident a while back,” Asahi replies vaguely, waving one hand dismissively, “nothing important.”

Noya’s watching him like he doesn’t believe him. Asahi avoids his gaze; he has the distinct feeling that Noya will see right through him otherwise.

“Okay,” Noya finally says, “then what about that necklace you’re always playing with? The ring. Are you married or something?”

Asahi doesn’t even realize he’s messing with it until Noya points it out. He’s busted, caught like a deer in headlights under Noya’s drilling questions. His words die in his throat, lips parted but nothing coming out.

I don’t know, he thinks, clenching his fist around the ring. He shoves it back into his shirt and grips the edge of the table, focusing on keeping his hands there. “No,” he manages, smile tight again, “but it doesn’t matter. We’re here to talk about the case, remember?”

Noya’s gaze flicks down, but he doesn’t push it.

“Right.”

Noya talks. It’s not all connected, more stream of thought and dropping details as they come to him, but Asahi listens. He takes notes, putting things that he knows already on one page and things he’s hearing for the first time on another. Some of Noya’s tales have nothing to do with the case, but Asahi lets them slide, and then he realizes that Noya hasn’t been talking about the case for a while.

But here’s Asahi, pen down and still listening. There’s something about Noya’s energy that’s so easy to get wrapped up in, and Asahi hadn’t even realized he was in it until it was too late. Maybe it’s the way Noya feels familiar to him, like second nature, or the way he’s sure he must know Noya from before, but the sensation is contagious, quick like electricity and quiet like a thief.

“Azumane-san?”

Noya’s voice breaks into his thoughts again. Asahi starts, focusing back on the task at hand. He doesn’t know when he’d stopped writing, or when the case discussion had ended and the casual talk had begun, but he does realize, belatedly, that they never got their coffee. The baristas bring them out here, he’d noticed, so it strikes him as a little strange.

“Sorry,” Asahi tells him, “I just realized we don’t have our drinks.”

As if on cue, Noya’s gaze moves from Asahi to the woman approaching their table. Asahi tears his gaze away from the man in front of him to focus on her as well, putting on his most polite smile as she sets the coffee down in front of him.

“Here you go,” she says, “sorry about the wait.”

She turns to leave, and Asahi realizes that she’s only brought his drink.

“Sorry, ma’am?” He calls quickly. “What about my fri-”

He turns to gesture at Noya and falters. The seat across from him is empty; Noya is gone. The employee gives him a strange look, glancing between him and the empty booth across from him. Asahi swallows his sentence back down, where it feels like a thick lump in his throat.

“Nevermind,” he says instead, “thank you.”

She glances at the booth opposite of him again and then seems to simply accept it as strange, for she turns and heads back to the front, leaving Asahi alone with the ghost of Noya’s electric presence.

He ends up getting a to-go cup for his coffee.

Asahi doesn’t know how he got back to his apartment, only that he gets there and he comes back to awareness when he’s unlocking his front door. He falters, hand on his doorknob, gaze fixed on the crook between his thumb and his forefinger. Everything comes back all at once. Is this the right thing to do? Should he have just followed the advice and refused the case upfront? He doesn’t even know when Noya had slipped out. Had it been the brief moment he’d turned his attention to the girl at the shop? Asahi hadn't even heard the bell.

Why hadn’t Noya said anything?

Asahi is starting to think he’s getting too ahead of himself, thinking one normal conversation and a borrowed jacket makes them friends or something. But there’s the thought he’s been hesitant to admit to himself; he wants to be friends with Noya. Something about the other man makes him feel comfortable, regardless of his eccentric nature, and he’s starting to think that maybe Noya was right about his career choice being the wrong one for him.

He can’t afford to get attached to every other person he meets in this line of work. Noya is the first, but Asahi can’t say for sure if he’ll be the last, and Asahi doesn’t even know when the line in the sand got washed away. He doesn’t know if it happened halfway through their conversation or the first time he’d realized something about Noya was too familiar to ignore. Still, Noya had been right about one thing: there’s no way Asahi could have forgotten someone like him.

It’s the only reason Asahi is hesitant to let the feeling of familiarity go.

He realizes with a start that he’s still standing outside, so he pushes the door open and ducks into his apartment. Whatever he ends up deciding to do here, he’s got all the information he thinks he’s going to get from Noya. For now, he needs to crack down on the case. The longer he drags this on, the worse it will get for the both of them. He wants to give Noya the best chance he has of moving on from this, and the only way to do that is to solve it as soon as possible.

Asahi takes his shoes off at the entryway and heads into the living room, setting his bag down next to the low table in front of his couch. He yanks his hair up into a half-hearted bun and collects his notes and files, adding them to the growing pile on the table. Clicking the television on for background noise, he gets to work sorting. The details are still minimal, and the progress looks minimal, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, there’s still that robber at large, and while Asahi has no surefire proof to connect the two outside of a gut feeling, he’s learned very quickly to trust his gut.

He glances up at the TV just in time to catch a glimpse of a reporter standing in front of a house, door caved in and front yard taped off by obnoxious yellow crime scene signs. It catches his attention immediately, so he glances down at the caption.

Armed robbery. Voluntary manslaughter.

Asahi’s heart jumps to his throat. His eyes dart down to the file. What were the odds?

What if it hadn’t been involuntary? The file states that the person had been found dead at the scene, a victim of multiple gunshot wounds from a robbery gone wrong. Robbery. Check. Armed suspect. Check. Had they considered a lack of qualms against hurting people? Asahi flips his notebook to a fresh page and begins charting all the locations the robber had hit thus far. Maybe there’s some sort of pattern they’re overlooking, a rhyme or reason to the places the robber is targeting.

His facts are minimal but sure.

The robber only targets houses, never businesses. The types of houses vary. No known pattern thus far.

The robber is armed and dangerous. Generally, there’s minimal damage to any people they happen to rob, but when those people get in the way or fight back, it’s a different story. There have been people both hospitalized and killed.

The robber has no qualms about killing people who got in the way.

Asahi stares at the page. Finally, at the bottom, he writes Noya? beneath his list of facts. He doesn’t know what the precise connection is with Noya’s case in all of this, but if he can predict where the robber is going to strike next, maybe there’s something to be found there. That’s only if the police themselves don’t beat him there first. Either way, hopefully, some sort of confession would come out and Asahi could call this closed properly. If this is unrelated, then he’s going to have to think of something else fast.

It’s nearly four in the morning when he finally talks himself into going to sleep, but it’s restless at best, and he rises early. He’s off on weekends, so they’re his only opportunity to go get things done if he doesn’t want to go right after work. The case weighs heavily on his thoughts for the entirety of his morning run. When he passes the lake he’d run into Noya at that time, he pauses, only for a moment, to glance around, but Noya isn’t there.

Asahi keeps running, but he’s starting to feel less like he’s keeping active and more like he’s trying to get away from something. He feels like he’s running away from a lot of things, as of late. It can’t be helped.

Azumane Asahi is a coward, he tells himself, and this time he doesn’t think it’s a lie at all.

The next time he sees Noya, it’s on the same route and nearly a week later. Asahi finds himself searching the route consistently without even knowing if Noya even lives in the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse of the other man. He hasn’t heard anything from Noya since the day at the coffee shop, and he’s starting to grow a little concerned.

His traitorous heart says something else, but Asahi tries not to listen too hard to things made of glass.

There’s rustling overhead when Asahi passes beneath a tree. It’s followed by a loud yowl, and it’s this that makes Asahi falter in his steps. He pauses, turning his head up to squint into the branches. The early morning sun is bright, near blinding, but the shadow that covers Asahi blocks it out.

He sees the little tag sticking out of the collar of the white shirt first, and then the outstretched arm, pale and skinny, reaching out to a higher branch. Asahi can mostly only see the person’s silhouette, but he knows that figure anywhere.

“Noya?” He calls up hesitantly.

Golden eyes fix on him immediately. Noya looks vaguely surprised, arm still outstretched, lips parted into a perfect little circle. There’s a cat a few branches up from his perch, a skinny little tabby with all of its fur puffed out. Its teeth are bared at the other man, a low growl rising in his throat.

Asahi hasn’t ever seen a cat react like that to someone. Usually, the strays around this area are calm, used to the joggers and families who come through the park trails all the time. He frowns a little at the sight, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to shield his eyes as he peers up.

“Oh,” says Noya, “Hey, Azumane. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I run here every morning now,” Asahi frowns, “you already knew that. What are you doing up there?”

Noya gestures to the cat, who swings at his moving hand. “I came up to save him, but he won’t let me anywhere near him. I think I’m just gonna grab him and deal with the consequences later.”

“What.” Asahi intones.

Noya reaches for the cat.

“What?” Asahi repeats. “Wait, no-”

Noya stretches out of his crouch and snatches the cat in one quick motion. The tabby immediately begins yelling, claws sinking wherever they can reach. Noya yelps, and then takes a surprised step back into mid-air. Asahi shouts. All at once, Noya and the cat come crashing down through the branches, and Asahi slides down on his knees beneath them, breath leaving his body as they collide.

Asahi groans softly from his place on the ground. Noya scrambles off of him, eyes wide. He’s still holding the cat, who looks shaken, but overall unharmed.

“Asahi!” Noya gasps. “Are you okay? Shit, I’m sorry!”

Asahi waves him off with one hand, sitting up slowly. His torso aches where he’d ungracefully caught them, but at least they seem unharmed. His hair falls loose around his shoulders, and he looks around for the tie, only to find it snapped on the ground. It’d been fraying, so he isn’t surprised, but it’s still a little inconvenient.

“It’s okay,” he manages, when he finally catches his breath, “are you two okay?”

Noya beams, holding the cat up victoriously. “We’re totally fine!”

The cat bites Noya’s hand. Noya drops the tabby, and he bolts without so much as a glance back. The short man sulks as he stares after the vanishing animal, crossing his arms over his chest. There are claw marks down the length of his forearms and branches still stuck in his black basketball shorts.

“Rude,” Noya says, getting up.

He offers a hand to Asahi, but Asahi, a little doubtful that Noya can lift him, stands on his own.

“You should be more careful,” he says, frowning.

“I had it handled!”

“You fell out of a tree.”

Noya purses his lips. “You know. Fair.” He sticks his index finger out as if to agree that Asahi has a point. “You got me there.”

“How did you even get up there?” Asahi asks, gazing up at the tree.

There aren’t any visible branches that Noya could have used to climb, and Asahi has to admit that even with his height, he would have been hard-pressed to reach the lowest ones. There’s no way to get a handhold on the trunk, either, so he’s not sure how Noya got up there to begin with.

Noya shrugs. “I climbed? The cat couldn’t get down so I went up to help him.”

Asahi sighs. “Okay, Noya. My apartment isn’t far from here, so let me at least treat the scratches. It’d be bad if you got something.”

Noya hesitates, but then he looks down, inspects his arms, and grimaces a little.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Asahi tucks his hair behind his ears and turns, starting at a steady pace back up the pathway. Noya keeps at his heels, carefree and cheerful as he turns his arms over, inspecting his new battle scars. It’s almost endearing, Asahi dares to think, but he’s still not over how the cat had acted with Noya. Asahi is sure Noya isn’t a bad person, but he’s never seen a reaction like that in the months he’s been running here.

He frowns back as if the tree itself will give him answers, but it stands tall and silent, shadowed against the pale blue sky.

When they climb the steps to Asahi’s apartment, the realization hits him like a bullet. He’s bringing Noya into his apartment. How had they gotten here? Is his apartment even clean? It’s so plain that he doesn’t know what Noya is going to think about it. Had he done the dishes already or were they still sitting in the sink?

Anxiety settles in like a second skin, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. They’re already at the door and Noya is looking up at him expectantly, waiting for him to unlock it. Asahi tries to hide the way his hands shake as he puts the key in the lock and opens it, letting Noya into the dark entryway.

Noya kicks off his shoes at the entrance, and Asahi follows suit, stepping in ahead of the other man. The sink is clean. The living room has a few books on the table and stray papers from his brainstorming session the other night, but otherwise it isn’t unacceptable. He flicks the light on and crosses to the table, shoving the papers messily together.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” he says, “make yourself at home and I’ll grab my first aid kit.”

Noya plops onto the couch, looking around like a curious child. Asahi feels strange having someone over like this. He seldom has company, especially new company, and he feels like he’s being assessed for some sort of test. Clutching the papers to his chest, Asahi hurries into his room for the first aid kit in his bathroom.

Noya is still sitting on the couch when Asahi returns. His gaze is fixed on a photo hanging on the wall. It’s of Asahi, fresh out of the hospital, Suga and Daichi standing just behind him in the frame. Shimizu had been the one to take it, and it’s one of the earliest things he still remembers. Noya frowns at it a little, like he’s struggling to think about something, and Asahi just figures he must have zoned out.

“Noya?” He says as he nears.

Noya straightens, almost imperceptibly, turning his gaze to Asahi as the other man crouches in front of him, opening the first aid kit and setting it aside on the table. Noya gets the hint and offers out his arms while Asahi prepares a cotton pad for cleaning the scratches.

“Ouch,” Noya hisses once Asahi starts dabbing over them.

Asahi shakes his head, holding Noya by the wrist to keep his arm steady.

“Are those your friends?” Noya asks suddenly.

Asahi glances up at him, and then back at the photo. “Yeah,” he says, turning his gaze back onto his task. “The one with the silver hair is Suga. The dark-haired one is Daichi. Our other friend, Shimizu, took the photo, but she’s not very fond of being in them. They were there with me when I was in the hospital for a while.”

“What were you there for?”

Asahi grimaces, remembering why he’d avoided the subject the last time he’d talked to Noya. “Uh,” he starts hesitantly.

He can feel Noya’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t meet his eyes. Asahi gets the feeling that he’ll spill everything if he does, so he stubbornly keeps his focus on treating Noya’s scratches.

“It’s okay, Azumane-san,” Noya laughs, “you don’t have to tell me. I was just being nosy.”

Asahi exhales, a little relieved. He wraps up Noya’s first arm, having finished treating the scratches there. Moving onto the second one, Asahi grabs a fresh cotton pad. He frowns as he sets back to work.

“Noya,” he starts, “where did you go, the other day? At the cafe, I mean?”

Noya stiffens a little under his grip.

“Sorry about that,” the other man mumbles, “I had an emergency I had to handle, so…”

“Oh,” says Asahi, unconvinced, “okay. I was just worried… You just up and vanished without saying anything.”

Noya doesn’t go into any more detail, and Asahi doesn’t push it. He gets the feeling Noya isn’t telling the whole truth, but he’s not going to try to force it out. He has his own secrets, and he’s sure Noya has plenty himself. Despite seeming like a very open person, he’s come to notice that Noya is strange, like he’s never quite there most of the time, and the times that he is, he seems so full of life that he’s ready to burst with it.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Noya’s voice is painfully soft.

Asahi’s heart aches. He doesn’t know why that gentle voice hurts, only that it does something strange to him. He catches himself holding his breath, as if even that will break this moment. He knows better. He knows better. He doesn’t know Noya, and Noya doesn’t know him. They’re client and employee, nothing more.

Asahi doesn’t even know himself. How could he even hope to let someone else know him?

“It’s okay,” Asahi gets out, but his voice sounds foreign to himself like it’s coming from someone else speaking in his place instead of him.

Something about the intimacy of the moment makes Asahi feel like he’s an outsider, watching his own hands and fingers tenderly take care of Noya’s newly acquired scratches. He knows there’s more on the man’s face, but he’s scared to raise his gaze. He’s scared that whatever is happening is going to shatter the moment they make eye contact. Asahi is going to realize it’s all in his head, or Noya is going to realize it’s strange for him to be in what is essentially a stranger’s house.

He feels like he knows Noya. The feeling won’t go away, but Noya has told him that he’s sure they’ve never met. Asahi couldn’t forget someone like him, and Asahi is inclined to agree. He’s stalling now, and he knows it, and he’s sure Noya knows it, but neither of them say anything about it as Asahi cleans over the scars a second, and then a third time.

Finally, he bandages the second arm. Noya’s skin is cold beneath his grip, freezing like the other man has been standing in negative temperatures for hours. Asahi knows this isn’t the case, so he assumes Noya must just run cold in comparison to Asahi himself. Noya seems unbothered, either way.

“Thanks,” Noya finally breaks the silence.

Asahi dares to raise his gaze. Noya’s eyes are trained on him, sharp and focused with such intense clarity that Asahi is momentarily taken aback. Noya looks as if he’s a page ahead of Asahi, waiting for him to catch up. Asahi isn’t sure if he should, much less if he wants to.

“Well,” he replies, averting his gaze to get another cotton pad, “I wasn’t just going to leave you after I watched it happen. I don’t mean to be rude, but you seem like you’d neglect taking care of them.”

Noya grins crookedly in the corner of his vision. “You’re right,” he says, “I would. But that’s not all I was thanking you for.”

Asahi pauses, mid-turn, pad raised to start in on the scratches on Noya’s face. He blinks, confused. “Huh?”

“That was for everything,” Noya continues. “I know this case isn’t easy on you. I’m sorry I dumped it on you, but something told me you’re the only one who can handle it, and I always listen to my instinct. It hasn’t steered me wrong yet. So I was saying thank you for putting up with all of this.”

Oh, Asahi thinks, and then says, “Oh.”

Noya laughs. “Oh?”

“Sorry. No, wait. I mean… You don’t need to thank me.” Asahi reaches out, carefully starting to clean the scratches across Noya’s cheek.

“Ow,” Noya says, again.

“Sorry,” Asahi frowns, knowing there isn’t much he can do about the pain.

“It’s okay. I got myself into this, so I’ll tough it out!” The golden-eyed boy declares.

Asahi smiles to himself. Noya’s energy is near contagious, and he’s just about forgotten about his previous anxiety of having the other man in his house. Noya seems nonchalant and uncaring, like he doesn’t care to judge how Asahi lives either way.

“There,” Asahi says, putting bandages over the last few scratches. “Done.”

Noya gives him a double thumbs-up, grinning so widely it looks painful. “Cool! Thanks, Asahi! You’re the best!”

Asahi holds both hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t go that far…”

“No!” A fire lights in Noya’s eyes, and he reaches out, grabbing both of Asahi’s hands so abruptly that the brunet squeaks. “It’s true! Don’t go selling yourself short, okay?”

Asahi’s voice catches in his throat. He wants to protest again, but Noya’s gaze is so intense that he physically can’t bring himself to do anything more than nod in agreement. It seems to satisfy Noya, so he releases Asahi’s hands and hops up from the couch.

“Alright! I’m gonna head out now, but I’ll see you soon, yeah? We’ll get this done!”

Noya reaches out, bumping Asahi’s shoulder with his fist. The little tap startles Asahi back into reality, and he scrambles to his feet, following Noya to the door and watching him put his shoes on. At the door, they both hesitate. Asahi looks down at his feet, but he can feel Noya’s gaze on him.

“Be safe,” Asahi says, finally.

Noya stares at him for a long moment. Finally, he reaches out, squeezes Asahi’s arm, and then turns away and bolts down the stairs. Asahi watches him jog down the road, and then vanish over the crest of the hill, out of sight, but never out of mind.

Maybe, he considers, he should have tried to make him stay.

Asahi stares at the hill Noya had vanished over for a long moment longer. He stares as if he’s waiting for the other man to turn around and come back, citing that it’s too late to head home, and the trains aren’t running anyway, so it’d take a while on foot. Asahi still doesn’t know if Noya lives nearby or closer to the agency, but either way, he could have thought of something.

He stares on, but Noya doesn’t come back. Finally, Asahi closes the door behind him and flicks the lock.

“You’ve been busy lately,” Kozume remarks, the following Monday, without looking up from his Switch screen.

Asahi doesn’t know how he gets away with playing video games at work so often, but he supposes as long as Kozume is efficient at his job, their boss doesn’t really care. He’s starting to give Asahi some eyes about the case he’s on, so he knows it’s time to hurry up and wrap it up.

Narita comes in, bearing coffee. He hands them out to each of the others in the room, setting Kozume’s next to him and handing Akaashi’s off. Crossing to Asahi, he offers out the coffee.

“Same as usual? How’s it going?” He asks.

Asahi accepts the warm drink from the receptionist. “It’s going,” he sighs, “I haven’t made too much progress outside of some guessed predictions. My sole witness has this habit of up and vanishing and apparently doesn’t have a phone to contact.”

Narita nods sympathetically. “Client isn’t making it easy, huh? This is probably your first one of those, but I see them come through all the time. It’ll work out, so don’t stress too much.”

“He can do with a little stress,” Akaashi comments, taking a sip of his coffee.

Narita turns to give him a withering look and then turns back to Asahi. “Anyway, drink up while it’s warm and then go back into this thing with a fresh mind, yeah? Good luck, Azumane.”

Asahi watches the receptionist go, and takes a long drink of his coffee. It burns his tongue, but he doesn’t flinch away. The moment of pain, however brief, does its part to make everything come into sharper focus. Three days from now, he’ll have been slugging through this case for a month. That’s the time limit he’s going to give himself; if he hasn’t figured this out or made any significant progress in the next few days, he’s going to tell Noya he can’t do it.

Resolution set in his mind, Asahi dives back into his work with renewed vigor.

“Don’t stay too late,” Akaashi says, later that night.

Kozume is already long gone, and Akaashi had finished his work, so he’s getting ready to leave too. It’s just Asahi now, with everyone else out. The black-haired man puts his jacket over his arm and strolls out. Only a moment later, Narita peers in.

“Azumane? Someone is waiting outside for you.”

Asahi glances up, confused. He hadn’t been expecting anybody, but it’s as good a reason as any to change location. He nods in acknowledgment to Narita and hurries to pack his things, pulling his bag over his shoulder and heading out.

Outside, he glances around in search of the person. It takes him a minute to spot them, but when his gaze shifts down, it catches on the streak of blond in Noya’s hair. The other man looks up when Asahi emerges from the building, and then stands immediately when he realizes who it is.

“Noya?” Asahi questions, surprised.

“Hey,” Noya smiles crookedly, “sorry for showing up out of nowhere. I was out and I just ended up here. Are you getting ready to head home?”

Asahi readjusts his bag. “Yeah, I just finished for the night. How did you end up way out here again?”

Noya opens his mouth to answer, and then closes it again, frowning in confusion. Finally, he just shrugs a little, as if he isn’t sure himself.

“I just did,” he says. “Can I walk with you?”

Asahi hesitates, but finally nods in concession. Noya falls into step beside him as he heads out towards the train station. It’s later than Asahi usually leaves, and the streets are nearly empty now. The sun is starting to set beneath the taller buildings in the distance, and Asahi gets the feeling it will be well past dark by the time he gets home.

“Do you live around here, Noya?” Asahi asks, glancing down at the other man.

He recalls seeing Noya back near where he lives, as well, but maybe the shorter man just gets around a lot. This is his chance to finally figure it out, so Asahi seizes it.

Noya hesitates a little, lips parting like he’s going to speak, then closing again. “Uh,” he starts, glancing around, “well-”

Noya cuts off, gaze catching on movement nearby. There’s a girl, no older than seven or eight, stumbling down the sidewalk. Even from this distance, Asahi can see the scrapes on her knees. She’s bawling, rubbing her face with the back of her hands, but steadily making her way down the sidewalk nonetheless, like she’s on a mission.

Asahi exchanges a look with Noya, and they both hurry toward her. Noya reaches her first, crouching in front of her and starting to talk. Asahi is a short pace behind him, catching up just in time to hear the child speak through her tears and sniffling.

“A bad man came into our house,” she sniffles, stuttering around her hiccups, “and Mama told me to run away and get help, but she’s stuck there with him!”

Asahi’s blood goes cold. This is it. The one time he hadn’t been trying to find the man and it practically fell into his lap. Noya is clearly thinking the same thing, expression hard and eyebrows downturned. He meets Asahi’s eyes and nods.

“Hi,” Asahi says, crouching down, “I’m a detective. I can go help your mama, but I need you to tell me which house is yours. Can you do that for me?”

The girl sniffs, looking up at him. “T-The one with the flower mailbox Mama and I painted…”

Noya is already running. Asahi squeezes the girl’s shoulders, getting back to his feet.

“Listen carefully. We’re going to go help your mama, so I need you to be brave for me, okay? Find someone and ask them to call the police for you. We’ll make sure your mom is safe.”

The little girl’s gaze follows him as he runs after Noya. He has no chance of catching up with the spitfire of a man, but Noya waits at the door for him, clearly trying to find a good way in. Asahi glances into the shattered window. The coast seems clear. He gestures to Noya and creeps around to the front door, opening it slowly.

It doesn’t creak, and Asahi thanks any god that exists as he and Noya sneak into the quiet house. Asahi puts a finger to his lips, signaling for Noya to follow him. Together, they quietly round the corner and immediately come face to face with the robber.

They catch the man by surprise. Asahi sees it in the glance he gets of the man’s expression before he’s forced to leap out of the way, bullets riddling the wall where he’d just been standing. To his right, Noya hisses from his spot on the ground, and Asahi has to suppress the nausea that rises in his chest at the sight of red blossoming across Noya’s shoulder.

“Noya,” he gasps, scrambling over, “I’m so sorry. I should have reacted faster. You’re going to need medical attention-” “Asahi,” Noya’s grin edges on pained, but he’s pushing through, nudging Asahi away. “I’m fine. I'm tough, remember? So don’t worry about me. I’ll live, so worry about that kid’s mom first. You bust that guy for the both of us, okay?”

His fingers brush Asahi’s cheek, cold against the skin there, and Asahi’s everything zeroes in on just that sensation. He focuses on the way that Noya’s hand feels against his cheek, electricity at his fingertips. He focuses on the way that regardless of whether he’d known Noya before or not, he knows him now, and he wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

Kissing Noya feels like second nature. He’s careful of the other man’s shoulder, even if it’s nothing more than a brief press of lips, but when he pulls away, Noya exhales like it’s the first breath he’s taken in years.

“Stay safe,” he tells Asahi, “‘cause if you die on me, I’ll summon you back and annoy you as a ghost.”

Asahi laughs. “I won’t. Get somewhere safe, Noya.”

He squeezes Noya’s hand and then hurries into the hallway, keeping low and staying alert. He doesn’t know where the robber is, but the robber doesn’t know his location either. But only one of them has a gun, and it isn’t Asahi, so he’s at a disadvantage here. His priority is getting the woman out safely, but he hasn’t seen her yet, so he’s hoping she’s already hiding somewhere safe. His and Noya’s arrival had distracted the robber for a moment, and he just has to hope the moment is enough if he can’t find her first.

Asahi ducks behind the couch just in time to avoid being seen by the man who creeps in through the next hall. He drops to his hands and knees, sneaking around the side to watch the man’s slow progression towards the kitchen, where he assumes there’s a side door. The man’s gaze sweeps the room once, twice. Asahi creeps forward when his back is turned, and the moment he takes a step to move away, Asahi lunges.

He’s scared. God, he’s terrified. He shouldn’t have made any promises to Noya. He isn’t immortal. If this man gets the upper hand, Asahi knows he has no chance.

But he can’t think about that. Right now, he can only focus on survival, on grappling with the man before him for control over the single gun. The robber’s eyes are wide, wild with disbelief. Asahi can’t figure out what he’s so surprised about; surely, he’d expected someone to come after him eventually for all of this? Asahi pulls and the man resists, They shove and turn and twist, brute strength against brute strength, fighting for control of the situation. A stray shot shatters a vase, and there’s a muffled whimper from the closet next to it.

The woman.

Asahi has the upper hand. It’s only for a moment, but the sound distracts him, and the moment is more than enough. The robber twists around and slams his elbow into Asahi’s face hard enough to send him pinwheeling back into the coffee table, head slamming into the wood hard enough to make his vision go black, and then blurry. The aftermath leaves Asahi feeling like there’s an army in his skull waging war against the bones, pounding relentlessly against his forehead.

It hurts. It hurts. He can’t think. He can barely see straight.

He’s been in this situation before.

When he manages to get his vision to focus, only a little, he is staring down the barrel of the gun. The man’s chest heaves, expression twisted in fury, all bared teeth and vicious stance. And this is it — Asahi has no chance here. This is the end, and his promise to Noya will go unfulfilled after all. He thinks about Noya, laughing loud and free, holding his hand to the sunlight so the golden band on his finger glitters. Except Asahi doesn’t know where he picked up that memory. His head is pounding, a steady thump, thump, thump against his skull. His head is pounding and he is thinking and Azumane Asahi is going to die here and now, just like the man in the case he’d been trying so hard to solve. He can’t even close his eyes, watching the man’s finger on the trigger as if in slow motion.

But it never comes.

Instead, there is Noya, howling bloody murder, all feral motions and vengeful anger, streaking out of the hallway and barreling into the man. They both hit the ground and the gun skids away from them. Asahi’s shaken, but he still notices the lack of red staining Noya’s white t-shirt. Asahi trembles, but he realizes right away that Noya’s wound looks as if it had never existed to begin with. Noya looms over the man like a wraith, teeth bared, golden eyes glittering with a promise, a threat, and Asahi thinks to grab the gun before the man recovers from Noya’s winding attack. The would-be thief writhes beneath the other man, but Noya is unyielding and less hesitant than Asahi.

He takes the flower pot off the table and breaks it over the man’s head, knocking him out cold. Asahi is left in stunned silence, clutching the gun, staring at Noya as he hunches over the unconscious man, shoulders heaving with every breath. Asahi is still concerned; he can’t see Noya’s wound, or any sign of it, but for all he knows, Noya had just managed to find an extra shirt. It’s doubtful and farfetched, but it’s the only possible explanation, isn’t it?

“Asahi,” Noya gasps, “Asahi, are you okay? Did he hurt you? You’re bleeding.” He hadn’t noticed, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Asahi touches his head and his hand comes away red. He stares at his fingertips, dizzy, and finally sinks to his knees. Noya scrambles off of the man and barrels right into Asahi, straddling his waist to lean over and inspect Asahi’s head. Outside, sirens wail as their backup arrives, and Asahi sighs, relieved that the little girl had found somewhere safe. The officers come flooding in. Asahi feels like hell, but he’s more worried about making sure everything gets taken care of, so he directs them to the woman hiding, and then to the unconscious robber on the ground. It’s over.

Reaching out to touch Noya’s face, Asahi feels like sobbing. “I’m okay,” he rasps out, “I’m okay. You got shot, though, didn’t you? You shouldn’t do reckless things with a wound like that.”

Noya scrambles back off of him and out of Asahi’s reach before the detective can inspect his previously injured shoulder. He takes a little step aside, gaze averted, frown fixed on his features. Asahi’s eyes follow him as he moves away a little.

“Noya?” He frowns, moving to stand.

One of the officers shouts. Asahi’s attention catches on the shout and his gaze follows, catching sight of the previously unconscious man thrashing on the ground. He’s on his stomach facing Asahi, and one of the officers is straddling his back to cuff him. It’s his expression that catches Asahi’s notice, the sheer rage, face twisted up in hatred. His eyes glitter furiously, lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl.

“You’re supposed to be dead!” He shouts. “You both died! I know I killed you, so why the fuck are you still alive?!”

Asahi’s heart falters in his chest. His head hurts. God, it hurts.

“I robbed you months ago! I shot that boy to death! You were dead! You’re supposed to be dead!”

He keeps shouting it. Asahi is cold to the bone, dropped into an endlessly deep pile of fresh snow with no way out. All he sees is the man’s face, and all he hears is dead and his head hurts so much. He’s supposed to be dead? He’s alive, though. He’s alive, but he doesn’t have memories, and he’s supposed to be dead. What boy had he meant? Noya? Did that mean Asahi had known him before after all? Had they both lost their memories?

Something is screaming in the back of his mind to come out. Asahi clutches his head in his hands, feeling panic swell heavily in his throat, suffocating him. His vision is dark at the edges and the gun is on the floor beside him, just within his gaze.

“Asahi,” Noya croaks behind him, voice soft and pained.

Asahi, it echoes and echoes and echoes, and all at once, everything slams back down. He remembers, and he doesn’t know how he could ever forget. The wedding band burns against the hollow of his throat like a brand. He watches, dumbstruck and breathless, as the robber is hauled out. He remembers who he is. He remembers who Noya is.

“Yuu,” he gasps, whirling around.

But the other man is gone.

⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤⏤

Asahi hates the smell of hospitals.

The nurse tells him he’s fine to leave, but he needs to come back for another check-up in a week to make sure there isn’t further head or brain damage. The doctors know his memory has returned, so they’re hopeful, but Asahi can’t share their joy. He goes home, empty-handed and desolate. He’s thinking about everything, about Yuu, about the wedding band around his throat. He doesn’t know where the other man had vanished to this time, but he hopes he’d at least had the sense to get medical attention.

And a week goes by.

In the seven days that Nishinoya Yuu is gone, Asahi dreams.

In his dreams, Asahi dies slowly.

His body is a mass of static and there is nothing but pain and pain and more pain. He’s vaguely aware of someone, somewhere, calling his name. Asahi, they’re saying, Asahi, please wake up.

Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, the pieces reconnect themselves. He is not the one in pain, nor is he the one being called out to. In his dreams, Asahi comes home to their shared home and finds Yuu on the floor, riddled with gunshot wounds and already bleeding out. In his dreams, Yuu is unconscious, and Asahi is sobbing, his voice cracking as he tries desperately to call the police.

“Yuu,” he’s begging, “Yuu, please wake up.”

In his dreams, Azumane Asahi does not make it home in time to stop his husband from fighting a robber. Azumane Yuu had fought alone and lost, and by the time Asahi had gotten back, he’d already been half-dead. Asahi hunches over him, pleading with any god that might listen.

He doesn’t know when he got up, only that he’s standing. He doesn’t know when the man appeared around the corner, only that he’s surprised by his appearance, and when they fight, Asahi does not win. He sees the table come into his line of vision.

There’s pain, and then there’s nothing.

Asahi wakes slowly from the darkness as the pieces slide together in his mind. Suddenly, everything makes sense. He hadn’t given the theory any thought before; it’d simply been the most unbelievable thing, but now he’s sure. It all makes too much sense. The name, the vanishing acts, the same outfit all the time, the strange looks Asahi would get when he would bring Yuu up with others, the missing bullet wound in his shoulder.

Yuu is already dead.

Asahi thinks the cold chill of resignation is the hardest part.

When he sits up, Yuu is sitting on the end of his bed. Asahi can see the door through his blood-stained shirt. The sight makes his heart ache anew. How cruel, he thinks, to make him fall in love with this man all over again, only to lose him once more. Had he really ever had Yuu to begin with?

Yuu looks like he had the last night Asahi had seen him as Azumane Yuu, and not Noya. His face is pale and hollow, golden eyes set into his features, a shade duller than Asahi is used to seeing them. His shirt, previously white, is riddled with bullet holes and stained with blood. Asahi is scared to even breathe for the fear of Yuu leaving once and for all.

Yuu doesn’t look at him when he speaks.

“I’m dead.” It’s not a question. Yuu knows this is a fact. “Right?”

“I’m sorry,” Asahi chokes out.

It isn’t enough. This isn’t enough. He has so much more he wants to say to Yuu. He wants to tell him how sorry he is. He wants to tell him that it should have been Asahi who’d died that day. Yuu had so much to live for, and Asahi barely knows how to live for himself. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how they were supposed to have a whole life ahead of them. Their adventure had only just begun and it had been torn out from beneath them before they could take the first step.

Asahi chokes on his breath. It isn’t fair. It still isn’t fair.

He wants to say, please, don’t leave me again.

Yuu’s form flickers. Asahi covers his mouth to stifle the sob there. Yuu is in front of him now, gaze soft with acceptance. Even in death, he is the stronger of the two of them. Even now, his unwavering dependability makes Asahi feel safe.

“Asahi,” he says, ghostly fingers brushing past the strands of hair by Asahi’s ears, “I’m sorry.”

“What?” Asahi manages. “Why are you sorry? Yuu, I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I hadn’t gotten held up that day-”

“Then you would have died too.” Noya cuts him off.

Yuu stares him down, golden eyes piercing, and Asahi falters beneath that gaze.

“Asahi, I’m saying sorry because I promised you forever, but I have to go now. I love you so much, you stupid crybaby. I love you more than anything, and even if we were reborn, I’d find you again in ten thousand lifetimes. It’s always going to be you. You’re the kindest, bravest person I’ve ever known, and I’d do everything the same if it meant I had the chance to love you.” Asahi feels like he’s suffocating in his own words. He wants to grab Yuu and hold him close, but his hands pass right through the other man’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he sobs, “Yuu, I don’t want to go without you. I don’t know how to socialize properly, and nobody else reminds me to take my meds. I can’t ground myself alone when I have an anxiety attack, and you always know what to say when I have a nightmare. I’m not brave. I let people walk over me when you aren’t there to tell them to lay off. You can’t leave because I don’t know what to do without you. I’m brave when you’re around because you make me feel like I can be.”

Yuu laughs. It’s a strangled half sob.

“Someone as cool as you shouldn’t be such a crybaby. You’re your own person, Asahi. You don’t need me or anyone else, even if you think you do. I’m not the one who makes you brave. You do that. And I need you to be extra brave for me now, okay?” His smile wobbles as he reaches out, hand hovering over Asahi’s cheek. “I need you to be brave enough to live the rest of your life, even if I’m not there to live it with you. I wish I could stay and make you as happy as you made me. I wish we could travel the world and have kids and grow old together. But I’ll always be with you.” And this time, when he reaches to touch Asahi, his palm settles over the ring strung around Asahi’s neck and stays there. The point of contact is warm, pulsing out into Asahi’s chest. He feels like he can breathe again. Asahi is so tired of being scared.

He manages a shaky laugh. “You still have my jacket.” Yuu smiles, something soft that touches the edges of his eyes. “Yeah,” he huffs, “sorry about that.” Asahi covers the hand Yuu has over his chest with his own. “Yuu,” he says, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have, and I’m sorry I never said that enough. I’m sorry that we couldn’t have the life we deserved. But I’ll keep living for you, as long as you promise to wait for me. Find me again in the next life, and the one after that, and the one after that. Please let me fall in love with you again.” A single tear slides down Yuu’s face.

“Always,” he says.

Asahi does not get his coat back, but he feels it like a pit of warmth in his chest when Yuu is gone. He sinks slowly forward, gathering the blanket up in his arms and pressing it to his face in a futile attempt to gather the last bits of Yuu’s presence from the fabric. But he’s gone, and Asahi is alone again, with nothing but the ghost of his memory and a promise. His room is empty and the pit of warmth in his chest is a sorry excuse for Yuu’s presence. He’s alone for now, but he’s going to be brave, and he’s going to find Yuu again in the next life. He may not have him now, but he’s never going to let him go again. He has that.

His fingers close slowly over the ring dangling from his neck, pressing the memories there deep into his chest where they’ll make a home.

(And this, at least.)

[catboymingi]

pretty boy

navi/masterlist

pairing: mingi x reader

genre: fluff with some slightly angsty short moments; best friends to lovers

word count: 3.7k

warnings: slight language warning, a teeny tiny bit suggestive once if you squint, but it never gets hot or steamy

if you’d known that calling mingi ‘pretty boy’ would finally make him make a move you’d done it much earlier

cuddling mingi was one of your favourite pastimes, had been ever since you got over the weird awkwardness that had been around when you first became close enough to hug each other but not yet comfortable enough to not wonder if it was weird that sixteen-year-old platonic friends were hugging each other. you’d met him when you transferred to his school at age sixteen and he’d taken it upon himself to make sure you didn’t feel excluded, forcibly making you befriend him - you’d really had no choice, he would come up to you daily, tell you about his day and try to make you feel welcome - and once you had befriended him forcibly making you befriend his friends, too. it had been awkward at first because you didn’t have any “best friends since kindergarten” stories, so you were hyperaware of the impression you would leave if you were to be more touchy than a hello and a goodbye hug.

that awkwardness had first subsided during a movie night with the boys, where mingi, stupid as he was, had suggested a horror movie so he could protect you, but in the end he’d begged you to not go home yet because he was scared the killer that was without a doubt waiting for his next victim outside was going to kill you if you stepped foot out of his apartment, because unlike his friends you’d refused to get a taxi, had insisted that you lived close enough to just walk, and you’d agreed to stay for a little longer so he’d feel better, thinking that it was only the post-movie anxiety that would subside in at most an hour. you’d ended up staying the entire night, though, because your friend had refused to let you go home even after that hour, and it was then you realised that he was actually scared. so you’d agreed to stay the night, thinking you’d be sleeping on the couch - which you did -, by yourself - which you didn’t, because a certain peach-haired giant had crawled into your arms after maybe twelve minutes (he’d counted, and decided that upwards of ten minutes was enough time to try to fall asleep by yourself) and you’d ended up having to protect him rather than vice versa.

you were kind of grateful for this, because it had gotten rid of the awkwardness of it all, and after that first time of cuddling you’d been much less shy about physical affection, and it was due to this that mingi got upgraded from friend to best friend.

that had been three years now, the house where you’d cuddled with him for the first time only still being a cuddle location if his parents invited both of you over from the dorms you now lived in to stay a night because they missed you, instead both of your dorm rooms had become the preferred locations.

this was where you were now, too, being spooned by your big best friend as he was slowly waking up. you’d been awake a little longer already, usually an incredibly early riser so your body made you wake up at six in the morning by yourself, but you hadn’t wanted to bother mingi so you’d just dozed on and off until he’d be waking up, too. to your dismay, though, he was shuffling behind you, and you felt a small issue against your backside. technically, you knew morning wood was a thing, and you knew mingi was definitely way too sleepy right now to be feeling anything other than the innocent desire to cuddle and sleep some more, so you didn’t think too much about any potential hidden meaning behind it. he’d never tried to make a move, and because you’d first gotten to know each other after both of you had already halfway been through puberty you were pretty certain that if he did want to make a move he would, simply because there was no decade-long friendship to ruin. it wouldn’t be awkward if he’d see you as a potential partner rather than the kid he grew up with, because he hadn’t grown up with you. so you were convinced it didn’t actually mean anything to him. you knew for a fact that this didn’t mean anything suggestive. but untechnically it certainly didn’t help the embarrassing crush you had on him, nor did the proximity to his warm, bare chest, because it was summer and summer meant shirtless mingi and shorts and a tank top for you rather than the soft fleece pyjamas you opted for when the weather started getting worse.

“sorry”, he mumbled against you as he, too, realised his problem, calmly and completely free of embarrassment after that first time he’d woken up like this and had near pushed you off the bed in an attempt to hide the fact that a part of him was just a horny teen, unaware of the fact that you’d realised that about five minutes before he did because you’d been awake for ages. in order to avoid being actually kicked off the bed in the future you’d told him that you didn’t care, and he’d slowly become less embarrassed because this was just how his body worked, not something he could control. 

“don’t worry”, you mumbled back, shifting around in his hold now that you knew he was awake so you could face him.

“how’d you sleep?”

“not long enough”, he groaned, his deep voice a little whiny as he told you about how it had taken him what felt like years to fall asleep.

“sleep some more”, you suggested, turning around again so you were now on your back and looking at him as you patted your shoulder, “come here.”

you didn’t have to tell him twice, his messy bedhead hair tickling your chin a little as he adjusted himself on the spot between your shoulder and your chest, his favourite cuddle position even though he’d never admit it.

“wake me up latest when it’s lunch time”, he ordered before he closed his eyes, nuzzling into your side some more for ultimate comfort as he let himself drift back to sleep, as confirmed by the fact that he’d apparently neglected to fully close his mouth, so you felt a teeny tiny wet spot on your shirt after a few minutes of him drooling on you. not that you minded, though, you thought it was endearing how the big, scary mingi was such a baby sometimes. it only made your embarrassing crush grow bigger, the comfortableness of it all, how natural it felt. he looked really pretty like this, too, pretty and absolutely adorable, as you saw when you wanted to play on your phone to pass the time, catching sight of his reflection in the black screen before you unlocked it, and because you were an idiot and couldn’t stop yourself you took a picture of him, where he was laying on your chest with his mouth slightly agape and sleeping peacefully.

sleeping peacefully until your phone made an uncharacteristically loud ‘click!’ sound, making you realise that you must have turned up the system sounds rather than your media in your sleepy haze the night before, but it was too late to change anything as mingi first grumbled, then shifted around, and then he lifted his head with the intention to look at you, but your phone screen was a more interesting sight, he decided, his embarrassing drooling face on full display.

“delete that!”, he whined while he tried to grab your phone, but sadly you had the advantage of being on your back so you could hold it out of reach, and he was still too sleepy to fight you for the phone. he would definitely do that later, though.

“no”, you refused, turning off your phone with the one hand you had available so he wouldn’t be able to delete it for you even if he did manage to steal your phone, because he’d need the pin code first.

“why should i delete that? i have lots of pictures of you.”

“yeah, but you just took that one so you can forever blackmail me about how stupid i look.”

mingi was genuinely convinced that was why. never in a thousand years had it occurred to him that you’d think he was cute, that you’d think he looked good even when his hair wasn’t slicked back but messily standing in all directions, even when his face was puffy and his tired eyes even smaller than usual. he was convinced he looked stupid, and he was convinced you’d use that picture to get him to buy you mcdonald’s at three in the night when it was freezing outside so obviously you couldn’t go yourself but would have no issue sending him out into the merciless cold.

“you don’t look stupid though!”, you insisted, having to stop yourself before you burst out an embarrassing compliment that might make things really awkward.

“i do! just look at my idiot expression, i look like a total imbecile.”

“you look pretty, shut up.”

there it was. the compliment you’d tried to keep yourself from cooing at him ever since you first caught sight of his adorably pouty sleeping face. and of course he wouldn’t just let it slip, either, his own embarrassing crush raising its hopeful head.

“pretty?”, though he masked the giddiness he felt with a teasing tone as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at you with a forced mischievous expression, one he wore to keep himself from smiling like an idiot.

“pretty.”

you’d have to just play along, act like it was a plain fact rather than you being way more in love with him than a best friend should be, so you continued: “now shut up about looking stupid, pretty boy.”

and if you hadn’t been so embarrassed yourself you would most definitely have noticed how much this affected him before he started stammering, because he blushed all the way up to the tips of his ears, leaving him looking a little more tan than he already was, skin a mix of a warm brown and a slight sunburn-adjacent red from the blood rushing to his face.

“pre- pretty boy?”

while you’d intended to play it cool that was impossible now he was staring at you in shock, seemingly entirely taken aback by the nickname.

“sorry”, you apologised, thinking he was upset rather than incredibly flustered and hopeful and happy, thinking now you’d most definitely made things weird.

“why are you apologising?”

“that was weird. kind of out of place”, avoiding his eyes as you spoke because you didn’t want to see him make fun of you for being weird and apparently incredibly whipped for him, as you expected he’d do. not even out of malice, he just sometimes didn’t immediately realise when a situation was serious for you, or rather how serious it was so he’d crack a joke or tease you - though he’d always apologise profusely once he realised his joking or teasing had hurt you.

“it wasn’t. just didn’t expect you to think i’m pretty when i was looking like a doofus. or like, at all.”

because he was insecure about his looks, genuinely, especially when you’d seen him so many times where he’d looked like an absolute mess, crying his eyes out over tangled, or ketchup or whipped cream all over his face because he’d wanted to convince you he could fit some random food into his mouth in its entirety, lots of situations he’d found himself overthinking later and that he found himself wanting to kick himself in the ass about for probably having made you think that he just knew how to sell himself in public but was actually average-looking at best.

“who says you can’t be a doofus and pretty at once though?”, something you were only able to say because your need to make him stop self deprecating was stronger than your embarrassment about complimenting him the way you were doing now.

“i say”, he informed you, still not able to believe that you genuinely thought he was pretty even when he wasn’t trying to be.

“and i say you’re pretty. if i have to pick just one then you’re a pretty boy and not a doofus.”

by now it was impossible for him to act cool when he was embarrassed like this, so his head landed face first in the pillow next to you, hiding himself from you because he didn’t want to have you see that he was a lovestruck idiot getting way more affected by what he assumed to be a silly nickname than he should be. though forcefully slamming his face into the bed wasn’t exactly a cool, unbothered guy’s behaviour either.

and “sorry” you apologised again, scared with every new sentence you said that that one would be the one to overdo it.

mingi just groaned into the pillow, annoyed with himself that even now he couldn’t get himself to say anything at all to in the very least hint at that he liked you, but you interpreted the groan as a reaction aimed towards what you’d said, insecurity and regret taking over as you realised that you were a fucking idiot and that you’d have to leave right now if you didn’t want to ruin your friendship. so you shuffled in the bed, sat up and were about to leave the bed when your best friend’s hand shot out to grab your wrist and keep you there with him, surprising both you and him.

and he surprised both of you even more when, once he’d seen the insecure, no, scared expression on your face, he pulled you back into the bed by the wrist, making you fall more than you were voluntarily laying down, and then he propped himself up from where he was on his side and now facing you who’d landed on your side too, shifting to turn you to your back so he could keep himself up on his elbows with his upper body hovering over you, caged by one of his arms on either side of your torso.

the surprise became unmatched when he finally made the move he’d been wanting to make for at least two years now, crashing his lips onto yours not exactly carefully because he was scared his bravery would leave him if he didn’t act immediately and fast, but his whole demeanour softened after a few seconds when you still hadn’t made any attempt to push him away, hoping that keeping himself up on one arm would work, that the strength in this one arm would be enough to keep his upper body from crushing you as the other moved to your head with the intention to cup your face, but got distracted by how soft the hair was that was spread out on the pillow, so instead he was twirling it around his finger.

if he could he wouldn’t ever have moved away, simply because the situation was one he’d wanted for so long, but his arm - the one that was carrying his entire weight - started hurting and threatened to give in, so he had to roll himself off of you, laying on his back so he wouldn’t have to see whatever expression of rejection or, even worse, disgust might be on your face.

“sorry”, it was his turn to apologise, closing his eyes just in case, really not wanting to see the exact moment you’d tell him he’d just fucked up your friendship.

“sorry”, you said, too, though you weren’t even sure why you were apologising, and your apology confused him as well, so he asked: “why are you apologising?”

“i don’t know. why are you?”

“i feel like i just messed up really bad”, he admitted, his face still turned towards the ceiling, heart beating rapidly and he didn’t know whether it was adrenaline or anxiety.

“we can pretend that didn’t happen if you regret it”, you offered, though your heart hurt at the suggestion. you didn’t want to pretend that hadn’t happened. you wanted to do it again.

“do you regret it?”, mingi asked after he’d rolled to his side because now he wanted to see your face, even if it would hurt. he wanted to see if you were lying.

“no”, you told him quietly, “i’m just scared that maybe i should. i kind of regret not regretting it because i’m scared now things will be weird because i don’t regret it but you do. i don’t know.”

you knew that maybe you should have lied to him, pretend to regret it, but you didn’t want to. part of you was glad it was finally out, even if it would mean that now your friendship was ruined. you were glad you didn’t have to keep pretending that all the nights you spent cuddled up to him, all the times he’d hold your hands and blow on them to warm them up in winter, all those cute things didn’t mean anything more to you than just that he was your best friend. in a way, you were glad the slight emotional torture you found yourself in whenever he was acting particularly sweet was finally over. even if only because he wouldn’t be acting sweet with you anymore.

“i don’t regret it”, voice quiet and serious, his eyes looking straight into yours to let you know that he was serious.

“so you’d…”

you weren’t able to finish the sentence immediately, trying to gather the courage to ask what your heart longed to ask.

“you’d do it again?”

it seemed impossible that the cocky girl that had just called him pretty boy earlier as if it was the most natural thing was the same girl that was now shyly asking him if he’d kiss her again, but she was. you were shy because now you couldn’t play it off as joking anymore, and that made it harder. he could break your heart right here if he wanted to.

but he didn’t want to. he didn’t want to answer, either, opting to pull you closer with a soft hand on the back of your head so he could reach your lips again, kissing you once more to show that yes, he would.

“do you regret it now?”, mingi asked you insecurely when he pulled away the second time, scared that now he’d crossed a line he shouldn’t have crossed, but you shook your head, and finally you admitted your feelings.

“i’ve kind of been in love with you for a while anyway. i don’t know how long, but i realised that one time during summer break when you tried to shove an entire ball of ice cream into your mouth that i probably fell for you along the way. so it’s kind of something i’ve wanted since then.”

your best friend was surprised by this, because that meant you’d realised just shortly after he’d had to stop himself from kissing you that one time you jokingly puckered your lips at him to tease him, something that only got harder to resist the more time went on.

“me too”, he admitted, and then he started rambling out of… not embarrassment, but a strong feeling of being vulnerable and the resulting desire to shift the focus away from being on his emotions only.

“with you, i mean. and not since then, kind of a little longer, but you’ve always just acted friendly so i didn’t want to ruin it. being your friend is better than not even being anything, so i didn’t want to risk anything. it was fine, i was happy to be your friend, i would’ve just maybe been happier to be your boyfriend, or-”

then he covered his mouth with his hand as realisation of what he’d just said hit him, embarrassment taking over once more, along with the fear of rejection.

“would you still be happier now?”, with a mixture of insecurity and curiosity in your voice as your beautiful, shining eyes looked straight into his wide open ones.

“uh, i mean, yeah, i would, but it’s fine”, he stuttered, unsure of what to say. was it really that easy? though maybe making you almost leave, kissing you without even asking if you wanted him to, both of you fearing that the friendship was irreparably ruined before you two struggled out a confession that might maybe lead to you dating wasn’t exactly the easiest, if you really thought about it.

“i’d be happier if you were, too.”

“i can be. should i be?”

and when you hummed “mhm”, as much of a yes as you could get yourself to voice right now because you were still a little scared all of this was one long, sick joke, he felt like he might explode with happiness.

“but then i want to set that picture as my phone background”, you added. “please. i’ll delete it if you really want me to, though”, although the thought of that made you sad because you thought it was so cute and domestic, and it would forever remind you of this moment and how you’d finally started dating mingi after years of what turned out to be mutual pining.

and he saw the frown, the small pout on your face as you told him you’d delete it, noticed the way your voice got that watery tone it always got when you were really sad but pretending not to be, and he knew that even if he did really, really want you to delete it he’d never be able to make himself tell you that. not when your lip was quivering slightly, a sure sign that you would burst out crying any moment if he didn’t tell you it was okay immediately.

“keep it. but not your lock screen, please, let me keep some of my dignity.”

the trembling of your lip stopped, the little lines on your forehead smoothed out as you stopped frowning, and mingi let out an inaudible relieved sigh. emergency avoided.

then, because he was still thinking about what you’d said earlier, the thing that had made him get his hopes up enough to finally make that damned first move, he asked you: “you really think i’m pretty?”

“probably the prettiest boy i’ve ever seen. and now you’re my boyfriend”, in awe as if you still couldn’t believe it. neither could he, to be honest.

and now he was your boyfriend.

[seokjinsdisciple]

It’s a Deal- one

supernatural! johnny x reader x jaehyun,  mate!au

REQUESTED!!

Johnny had been begging you to date him for the past two years. You always declined, but he was persistent. So you made him a deal. You would date him when pigs fly and when hell froze over. Needless to say, he had some explaining to do on your date the following evening. 

Word Count: 2.1k

warnings: language, supernatural stuff, this part is pretty tame so i think thats it

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series masterlist

You tapped your pen furiously against the counter of the small coffee shop where you worked. It was by no means your dream job. In fact, you often hated it here, but the pay was good and it was relatively painless. You fought with your thoughts today, the idea of failing your upcoming folklore studies exam causing you to speed the tapping of your pen. 

You were thrown from your thoughts with a nudge from your coworker. Abby smiled knowingly at you before gently nodding her head to the register. 

“He’s back,” she chuckled, watching you as your gaze faded from one of worry to one of annoyance. 

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pushed yourself from the counter and made your way over to the boy who was waiting for you. 

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” he says, his statement more like a question as he analyzes your face. 

“Johnny,” you sighed, “How many times have I told you not to come here?”

“About a million,” he responded easily, the dumb grin on his face making you irrationally angry. 

“And you haven’t listened because?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you punched in his usual order.

“Chasing you is half of the fun, little love,” he smiled again, handing you his card as a scoff left your lips. 

You and Johnny had hooked up freshman year. A fact that you desperately wanted to forget, and he would never let go. But of course, fate was not on your side. You and Johnny were both folklore studies majors, and while you loved that area of study, it wasn’t a very popular choice of majors among your peers. So you and Johnny spent an immeasurable amount of time together each semester, your hatred of him growing with each group project and myth presentation. 

You cursed him under your breath as you finished his regular order, mind running through all of the times he had thrown his knowledge over you when working together. It wasn’t as if he was better than you, but he sure did act like it. You finished up his order, ignoring your instincts to slam the cup on the counter and scream, but you didn’t. He smiled at you, as if he knew your thoughts, and when you went to hand him the cup, his hand held yours tightly. 

You inhaled swiftly, eyes caught in his deep brown orbs. You felt your body flush with heat as you were unable to look away from him. 

“Come on a date with me, please,” he smiled, his tone different from the playful one before. It was sickeningly sweet, and yet some part of you felt compelled to say yes. This wasn’t the first time he had asked you out, in fact, he came in every day to do just that. You shook his voice from your head, collecting yourself for just a moment before forcing the cup on the counter and pulling your hand away.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I will never date you,” You huffed, looking away from those magnificent eyes. 

“Never is a long time, little love,” Johnny grinned, a spark of mischief in his eyes as he continued, “Just to get things straight, never as in ‘when hell freezes over never’ or never as in 'when pigs fly never’?”

You just snorted at this, he couldn’t be serious. You sat for a second recalling all of the times he had asked you out and all of the times you had said no, if this was what it took to get him to shut up about it, then you knew exactly what to say. 

“Sure!” You shout, “When hell freezes over and pigs fly, I’ll date you!”

“Is that a deal?”

“Yes, Johnny, it’s a deal,” You sigh, annoyed with him, and frustrated as a line of customers began to grow. 

You should’ve known then that you were in trouble, you should’ve known, but you didn't. You didn’t think anything of the grin growing on his face, or the mischievous glint in his eye. You pushed the interaction out of your head and threw yourself into work. You should’ve known by the way he waved goodbye, but you didn’t. You were stupid. 

--

The next morning you woke up early. You had a shift at the cafe and although you were tired, you needed the money for rent. And for gas. You walked the distance to the cafe, the sky still dark, and the air a bit chilly. 

You did your normal opening routine, Abby surprisingly keeping quiet about the whole Johnny fiasco yesterday while you worked. Abby always insisted that you should just go on a date, that one date wouldn’t hurt, but she didn’t have almost every class with Johnny. Yes, you admit he’s handsome from time to time, but if things don’t work out, you are stuck with him the next year and a half. 

The morning passes by quickly, the coffee shop seemingly much busier than usual. You ignored the rise of chatter from your customers and cleaned up from a big rush you just had, still unable to get Johnny’s eyes from your thoughts. You hear someone cough from the counter, clearly trying to get your attention. 

When you turn to the man in front of you he asks you to turn on the tv in the shop, apparently there was something crazy going on. You fumbled around under the counter, searching for the tv remote. As you flipped to the local new station, you felt a chill go down your spine. 

“Today, there was a freak snow and ice storm in Hell, Michigan. The storm came out of nowhere and seemingly disappeared. Citizens of Hell have been stuck inside their homes as temperatures outside have reached below freezing. Many of the town’s streets are covered in inches of ice.”

There was a ringing in your ears, the background noise of the cafe that usually comforted you increased your heartbeat. You were breathing fast, too fast, and your heart was pounding in your chest. This had to be a coincidence. This was a coincidence, there’s no other way to say it. Johnny had no power over the weather, especially in places that are so far away. 

“I guess I can never say ‘I’ll do it when hell freezes over’,” the muffled voice of the man who had asked to turn the tv on echoed in your ears. You gave him a forced smile and a faked laugh before hurrying to the back. 

“You good?” Abby asked, glancing up from the managers chair where she was taking her break. 

“Yeah, I just-” you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself as she stood with worry, “Did you hear what I said to Johnny yesterday?” 

“That you would never date him? Yeah I heard,” she laughed nervously, “It was kinda harsh. Did he come again? Is he bothering you?”

“No, its just,” you glanced quickly to the front of the cafe, making sure there were no customers, “Hell, Michigan just froze over.”

Her face dropped for only a second, and then she laughed, “Oh, babe, you can’t possibly think this is related?”

“I know it's not, it just freaked me out a little. I mean what are the chances?”

She just shrugged, pulling you into a comforting hug and then shooing you to the front where a customer was waiting. 

The rest of your shift went by quickly. You had more things to worry about and you tried your hardest to push Johnny from your mind. It didn’t help that he didn’t come in today. 

You threw off your apron and waved goodbye to Abby. You hurried out of the cafe and headed towards campus. Luckily for you, they were rather close to each other, so the walk was short. 

You made it to your class with 5 minutes to spare, and to your relief, Johnny had not arrived yet. Which gave you the perfect chance to sidle into a seat next to one of your other classmates. You wanted to avoid him as best as you could today, and if you could partner up with someone else for classwork, that would be ideal. As much as you could avoid that smug grin of his, you would. 

Only Johnny didn’t show up, the panic rising just a little more in your chest. He never missed a class, never been sick or needed to travel. He had never missed a class, so why wasn’t he here? You spent the whole class glancing out of the window, unsure if you were just bored or looking for him. You tried to convince yourself it was boredom, and it almost worked too, until you saw them. 

From a distance it looked like several planes, but as they came closer, the only thing you could do was close your eyes and take a big deep breath. Flying towards the university were 12 pigs. Airborne. Flying. Pigs. Your eyes had to be shitting you. 

You cursed to yourself, sending an apologetic nod to your professor before practically sprinting out of the room. Your breathing was heavy, the panic from earlier increasing tenfold. What had Johnny done? What had you done?

You walked swiftly back to your apartment building, still panicked, but hoping this was all just some crazy nightmare that you’d wake up from any minute from now. Your shaky hands tried to unlock your door, but no matter how much you focused, your hands wouldn’t steady. Your breath hitched as you felt his hand grab yours, helping you guide it towards the lock. Before you knew what had happened, the door was open, and Johnny stood in the hall, his hand still dancing over yours. 

You looked warily at him, noting how different he looked. His hair had been slicked back, and his clothes, his clothes were other-worldly. His suit wasn’t anything crazy, but the fabric looked expensive, and like something you had never seen before. You took a deep breath, centering yourself and letting the panic ebb away. 

“What,” you paused, hoping this question wouldn’t aggravate him, “What are you?”

At that, Johnny just laughed, “Oh come on little love, have you no guesses?”

You did have a few, you had studied so many myths and creatures you had a longer list than he probably wanted. You furrowed your brows, trying to ignore the smile that graced his lips and focused on what you knew. Johnny was relatively popular, he was charming, he clearly had some power over weather, and was able to make an animal fly. You bit your lip, thinking back on every encounter you had with him, every detail of that deal you had made. That was it. The deal. The deal he’d made sure you’d agree to. A bargain. 

“By the grin on your face, I’m guessing you figured it out?” Johnny asked, and if you had not been looking closely, you would have missed the proud gleam in his eye. 

“Are you a Faerie?” you asked quietly, ushering him inside. 

“Glad to see all those classes have been paying off,” he laughed, shrugging his shoulders when you shot a glare at him. 

“Your deal is void,” you responded, to which he only raised a curious eyebrow, “I told you to freeze Hell over, but you didn’t freeze the Hell that I was talking about.”

“Semantics,” Johnny spoke easily, “Besides we never clarified which Hell needed to be frozen over. The deal between us was that I would freeze Hell over, and I did. The deal stands.”

You puffed out your breath, you knew arguing that point was mute, but it was worth a shot. You knew faerie bargains were tricky, and you had unknowingly stepped right into one. 

“Now that we are talking about this,” Johnny smirked, “The deal was that you would date me. Not go on a date, not go on four, but date me.”

“And I didn’t specify a time length,” you groaned, “so it's up to you when I stop seeing you.”

“Glad to see you are catching on,” his smirk remained, the mischief in his face  ten times more apparent now that you knew what he was, “Meet me at the edge of campus tonight at seven. Don’t be late.”

“You’d kill me if I was,” you added, scowling as he waltzed out of your apartment with a chuckle. What had you gotten yourself into?

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter three)

MASTERLIST

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

warning: just cursing

wordcount: 1.4k

_________

With a reluctant groan, Sophie dragged herself out of bed for her 9am Friday lecture. Still a little hungover from the night before, she was reminded of her constant regret for choosing the only gen ed with Friday classes, compared to her other options. (But nothing sounded fun about Western Civilizations.) She tugged on an oversized sweatshirt, wiped away remnants of last night’s mascara, and grabbed a bagel from the Theta kitchen as she headed out the door, just ten minutes after waking up. 

When she sat down in her lecture hall, she was surprised to see Rafe there before her. She was typically one of the first to arrive to class, even on Fridays when only half the class decided to show up. He caught her eye and gave her a small nod, lifting his coffee mug in acknowledgment. Rafe was surprised when she returned the gesture. 

“Another underwhelming day of attendance, it seems.” Their professor cracked the joke as the clock hit 9am, acknowledging the modest crowd. Rafe had to roll his eyes when Sophie was one of few to offer a pity laugh. “Right. Tough crowd. As you all know, I’ll be assigning the pairings for the debate partners today. You’ll keep this partner for the rest of the semester and debate other pairs, so you’ll need to really balance each other out.” 

She began reading down the list and Sophie listened for her name, her eyes flitting around the room as she saw partners moving to sit together. Her brow started furrowing as she didn’t hear her name called, further and further down the list, until Professor Welch finally finished. “And Ms. Flint and Mr. Cameron. Exchange numbers, sit with your partner…” 

Sophie tuned her out the second she heard Rafe’s name called. As people started shuffling around the room, Sophie made her way to the front as Rafe did the same. 

Rafe made it to their professor first, splaying his hands on the edge of her desk as he leaned forward. “Professor Welch, can I request a new partner?” 

Sophie scoffed from behind him, though she was about to do the exact same thing. “Can’t handle working with me, Cameron?” 

Rafe ignored her, putting on his best charming smile. Their professor raised her eyebrows, glancing between the two of them. “Is there a problem? I thought you two did well in the debate in the last class.” 

“Yeah, against each other.” Sophie emphasized, taking a step forward. “I promise, Professor, I wouldn’t normally ask, but -” 

Professor Welch cut her off with a shake of her head. “You two are grown adults and you won’t be able to just opt out of a project in a workplace setting. This should be good practice for you.” 

With a wave of her hand, they were dismissed. Rafe grumbled under his breath and straightened up to stalk away, arrogant as ever. Sophie huffed as she strode back to her respective seat opposite him. They sat there in their seats, staring across the classroom with folded arms. 

Rafe patted the seat desk next to him with a smirk, crooking one finger toward her. 

Sophie just shook her head and lifted her chin in defiance. 

After a solid one-minute staredown, Rafe finally gave in, a scowl on his face as he grabbed his things and came over to sit next to her. They sat in silence, resigned as they waited for more instruction from their professor. 

He turned to her after a few moments. “Sophie.”

“What.” 

“Okay, you don’t need to act like a bitch.” He nudged her with his knee. Somehow, it wasn’t said with ill-intent. 

Sophie bristled at the insult. “Is that how you start all conversations with girls, asshole?” 

“No, just the rude ones.” Rafe shot back, a small smirk on his lips. 

Typically she would be more offended, but he was a little right. She would have to learn to give in a little bit if they were meant to work together. “Right. What do you want?” 

“How’d you know all that? About the golf course?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious. 

She sighed softly and turned toward him. “I’m an architecture major. My concentration is in environmental planning.” 

“Oh.” Rafe raised his eyebrows, impressed, and sat back in his seat, nodding to himself. “That’s actually pretty cool.” 

“Don’t act so surprised that I’m smart, Cameron.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Flint, I already knew you were smart.” 

Sophie couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at her lips. “What’s your major?” 

“Information systems, in the business school. With a screenwriting film minor.” Rafe replied, chest puffing up proudly. 

“A film minor?” She questioned, surprised. “Why?” 

He laughed at her confusion. “I wanted something that sounded fun on the side. I’ve always thought movies were pretty cool.” 

“Hm.” Sophie mused, then turned her attention back to the front.

Professor Welch gave most of the class some time to get acquainted with their new partners, and when the chatter slowly died down, she addressed the class with a smile. “I hope you all are satisfied with your partner. Make sure you get to know each other, you’ll be spending quite a bit of time together.” 

“Not if I can help it.” Rafe mumbled under his breath, making Sophie roll her eyes. (He was lying through his teeth, of course, but Sophie didn’t need to know that.) 

Their professor spoke again. “Anyways, you all are dismissed, I know it’s Friday so I’ll let you out early.” On cue, everyone began packing up and heading out. “Instructions for the next assignment are online and in the syllabus!” 

With a resigned sigh, Sophie slung her bag over her shoulder and followed him out. “See you tonight, Cameron.” 

Rafe stopped abruptly in his tracks ahead of her. “...why?” He questioned. 

She gave him a little shove from behind, pushing him out the doors. “The date party? You’re going as Julia’s date, remember?” 

“Shit, right, yeah.” In all honesty, he had forgotten about it the second he left the conversation with Sophie at the bar. He was more focused on the fact that he finally had her number - and a bad habit of drunk texting, so he had to curb his drinking for the night. 

“Oh my god. If you don’t show, I swear -” She started to threaten.

“I’m not gonna ditch her, who do you take me for? Jesus, Soph, give me a break.” Rafe retorted, keeping in stride with Sophie’s quick pace. 

She bit back a sharp reply, falling silent as they walked together for a moment. “We should probably put together a schedule for meeting up. I’m fairly busy.” She suggested. 

“What, have to go suck up to all your professors in their office hours?” He teased, just wanting to get a rise out of her. 

It worked. She scowled, crossing her arms. “No, I’m a TA in two different classes. Does Tuesday nights work for you? At six?” 

“I wasn’t far off.” He laughed, then thought for a moment, although his schedule was admittedly free save for his classes. “Wait, every week? Is that really necessary?” 

“I plan on winning the debates and I think we’ve agreed on two things total in our life, so yeah. It is necessary.” The way she said it, she left no room to argue. 

“What two things?” He cocked his head, curious. 

She rolled her eyes and ticked them off on her fingers. “One, we both wanted to leave the Outer Banks, two, going to Ohio State. That’s it.” 

“Oh.” Was all he had to reply, trying to wrack his brain for anything they had agreed on in the past, but came up empty. 

“Where are you going?” Sophie asked, glancing over at him. “Because I’m going to the architecture building, and you live in the opposite direction.” She couldn’t help but notice the way his hair was slightly unkempt from the fall breeze - a better look than the slicked back usual. 

“I - uh - I’m going to the library. How do you know where I live?” He lied, not wanting to give in. 

She raised an eyebrow. “The library, that’s in the opposite direction of our lecture hall? And don’t be obtuse, I know you live at Delt and we’re practically neighbors.” 

“Right.” Short of an argument, he shook his head and turned, starting off away from Sophie. 

She laughed, calling after him with a teasing lilt to her voice. “Don’t be late tonight!”

taglist: @dontjinx-it​ @butgilinsky​ @oopsiedoopsie23​ @taiter-tots​ 

[tailorvizsla]

Momma Mando might I request #19 Domestic Life and #12 First Time with Paz? (Im here for the softz and the spicy apparently?) ~your Angle

Absolutely, my Angle! :D 

(Everything is under the cut because I am an absolute dumpster fire of a person and could not control myself. Be ready for filth!)

📚 My Master List 📚 

Domestic Life

· Paz usually wakes up pretty early, so he goes to take a shower. When he’s done, he crawls back into bed with you. It might sound weird, but Paz likes watching you sleep, occasionally pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and wondering how he got so damn lucky to marry you.

· As it gets closer to the normal scheduled wakeup time, he starts touching and kissing you everywhere, mapping every part of you that he can reach. He can’t help himself – he has to have his hands on you. Paz is very affectionate in private.

· When he knows you are awake (but still pretending to sleep), he moves down to your sides and tickles you until you break and start to laugh. He loves it when you tickle him back because it usually devolves into play-wrestling. He lets you win sometimes.

· When the alarm goes off, he unwraps the blankets from around you, much like he is celebrating Christmas every morning by your side. After a few stolen kisses, he ushers you to the bathroom (with an affectionate swat to the backside, if that’s your thing).

· From here, he goes to get ready for the day. If you have kids, he’ll get their bags lined up on the table. He’ll put on his own armor and set yours out on the table for you. By now, you’re usually done with your shower, so he gives you something small to eat before physical fitness training – usually a piece of jerky or a boiled egg, just something small to get you through the next few hours.

· If you two have kids, the smaller ones go to the nursery for supervision, while the older ones stay in their beds to sleep in. You and Paz go work out with the rest of the tribe. By the time you are done, the older kids are awake and getting ready to go eat breakfast.

· And oh boy, breakfast is noisy for the Tribe. The children are either sleeping in their plates or wrestling in the aisles – there is no in-between for this lot. You and Paz (and the kids) eat in one of the private rooms so he can take his helmet off. Then you go socialize with people until breakfast hour is over. Sometimes, he will cuddle you in his lap and selfishly keep you all to himself.

· (One time, you two stayed in the private room way past the end of breakfast hour, prompting some smartass to come knock on the door and yell, “This might be a family room, but that doesn’t mean you need to make one in there!”)

· Once the kids are all distributed to their designated teachers for the day, you and Paz share a keldabe kiss and part ways to work. He goes to the armory to do weapons maintenance, or to help someone fix something. Some days, he goes to the shooting range to run morning drills, just so he can keep everyone sharp. Other times, he’ll grab someone who is struggling with something (shooting, sparring, life in general) and coach them through it.

· You two always find a few minutes to sneak off and send the other a sweet message. (Or a loth-cat meme.)

· Lunch is usually eaten alone, though sometimes you and Paz will sneak off for a few minutes alone with each other. (If you have kids, they’re off having fun and don’t want to be supervised because they get away with so much more.)

· After lunch, more work. Paz goes to oversee afternoon drills for the adults, though these aren’t that common. Most of the time, after morning lessons, he and a handful of adults can be found taking the kids out for basic survival lessons. This includes things like building fires, hunting prey for food, and learning to track. Other times, he’s helping teach the kids how to use their jetpacks, flamethrowers, and other weapons.

· When the sun starts to set, everyone does one last walkthrough of the grounds to make sure that everything has been collected and put away. Once indoors, everyone takes a shower and heads to the karyai for dinner. Dinner is a lot quieter than breakfast, since the kids are usually worn out by this point.

· After dinner, the elders take the kids to teach them about Mandalorian history and culture while the adults go take care of communal chores (like cleaning, organizing, and finding whatever the children have broken). When that’s all done, some people go to the karyai to play music and socialize, while others have to go to bed early. You and Paz stay for a few songs before retiring for the evening.

· Once back in your room, you and Paz will take your time getting ready to sleep. If you’re feeling particularly saucy, you and Paz will have a rematch on that wrestling match. 😉

(Your) First Time (was) with Paz Vizla ohhhh yeah, now at the 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥SPICY🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 stuff 

· Paz Vizla is attracted to strong, confident, and competent partners. The two of you met during combat. You had been taking cover behind some rubble to reload your weapons and he had dived in with you, quite literally running into you. Just a few moments later, someone tried to take the two of you by surprise. So you had whipped his blaster out of his holster and shot the fucker dead. Paz had been torn between being offended and impressed at your quick reflexes as you cheekily put his blaster back where it belonged.

· (Hint: he was smitten from that moment onward.)

· For six long months, he flirted with you. He started subtly at first – brushing up against you, standing a little too close during conversations, and warning off other potential suitors. Subtlety didn’t sink in, so he decided to ratchet up the intensity. He shared his ammunition with you. He lent you his weapons. He offered you food from his plate. He shared his drink with you. He bought you chocolate. He complimented you. He did everything that he could, yet it never seemed to progress past flirtation.

· At some point Din Djarin noticed the lack of response and slyly chimed in with, “Come on, stop torturing Paz and let him have a kiss, why don’t you?”

· Paz will never forget the moment that it seemed to click in your head. You stopped dead in your tracks, turned to face him, and asked, “Paz, have…have you been flirting with me?”

· He was stunned into silence and could only manage to nod once in response as you just stared at him. Then you shyly said, “Oh…I didn’t want to assume you would be interested in me.” (Din nearly knocked himself out face-palming at your words.)

· From there, things progress the way he intended, though still quite slowly. The two of you share lots of flirting, a quick grope every now and again, and many stolen keldabe kisses when no one is looking.

· You aren’t sure what tips him off about your inexperience – maybe it’s your shaking fingers when it comes time to explore his lower half, or maybe the look of apprehension in your eyes – but he stops you, pulls you into a gentle embrace, and kisses your forehead.

· Paz assures you that he will wait as long as you need, that your relationship isn’t based on you indulging his physical urges, and that you mean so much more to him. (But dear gods, the sweet wide-eyed look you gave him after holding his cock in your tiny hand for the first time…he masturbated to that mental image for months.)

· It takes a few more fumbling tries before you are ready. (You had always been a bit self-conscious about not having any sexual experiences. Even now that you’ve enjoyed your first sexual experience, you’d still choose a good hunt over fucking. Paz knows this, and he would do the same 100%.)

· As the two of you tumble back onto the bed, he makes you a promise, one that makes your cheeks turn pink. “I’m going to ruin you for any other man in this universe, babygirl,” he promises. “I’m going to be the one they all have to measure against, alright?”

· Paz Vizla is a very patient man. He worships you with his fingers and mouth and that sinfully talented tongue of his, touching and kissing, sometimes biting if you will let him. He has you breathless, soaked, and trembling before he even thinks about going down on you.

· When he gets between your legs, the look of pure hunger on his face makes you blush, and you shyly try to bring your knees together.

· Leaning in, he locks eyes with you, and presses the tip of his tongue against your clenching, aching entrance. Then slowly, he drags his tongue up to your swollen, throbbing clit. He pulls away just far enough to speak, “You taste real good, babygirl. Looks like I’m going to be spending a lot of time down here.” He is quite pleased with himself when you turn scarlet all the way down to your belly button.

· Once he’s had that first taste of you, Paz returns to your pussy, devouring you like a man possessed. He talks to you the entire time, telling you how good you taste, of how much he wants to stay between your thighs and make you come undone, over and over on his tongue, of how he enjoys being drenched in your slick.

· He gives you two or three orgasms before he tries any sort of penetration. He watches you carefully as he eases his finger in. You sigh with pleasure and that’s enough encouragement for him. He works that finger in and out until he hears a quiet whisper from you – “Paz, please – another finger?”

· The moan you let out when he works his second finger in almost makes him cum right then and there. But he holds it back until you start begging for a third finger. When you come around his fingers for the sixth (or was it seventh?) time that night, he thinks you are ready for his cock.

· Paz kisses his way up your belly, to your breasts, and then your lips. You don’t hesitate to taste yourself on his lips. He grinds his cock against you, coating himself in your slick, until you’re all blushing and grinding your hips against his.

· He rises up on his knees and looks at you. You are an absolute disaster – your hair’s a mess from your writhing, your pupils are blown wide open, and your entire body is blushed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Your chest is heaving, your back is arched, and your thighs are spread so fucking beautifully for him. Paz feels deep, dark pride at having reduced you into a quivering, whining, dripping mess.

· He starts to push in slowly, carefully measuring each rock of his hips to avoid hurting you. He knows he is huge. Many of his partners simply could not take him. Inch by inch, Paz watches his massive cock disappear into you, and suddenly, he realizes he likes watching you stretch out around him, your plump lips clinging to his shaft each time he pulls out a bit.

· After several torturous minutes, Paz finds himself buried to the hilt inside you, his pubic bone pressed up against your clit. In surprise, he can’t help but to whisper to you, “Babygirl, it’s like this sweet pussy was made to take my cock.” When you clench around him, he can’t help himself. He needs to move. Urgently.

· Paz bites on his inner cheeks as he starts a slow, careful pace, watching as you moan and writhe underneath him, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You’ve gone absolutely feral at this point, your nails leaving bright red marks along his shoulders and back, your thighs tight around his waist as you dig your heels into his ass urgently. With one final cry, you come for him, your walls squeezing him so tight he feels like you’re gonna push him out.

· When you’ve had a minute to catch your breath, he laces you legs onto his shoulders and arches forward onto his hands. Now that he knows you fit him like a glove, he’s rougher, pulling out nearly completely before sheathing himself fully in one smooth, deep stroke. When you reach down for your clit, he can feel your cunt rippling around him. Then he asks, “Babygirl, can I come in you?”

· Blushing, you nod up at him, “Yes, please!” Paz can’t hold out at that – he slams into you, wrenching half-sobs from your throat, your body rising to meet his, and then you come with a shriek. He follows, pulsing his cum into you as deep as he can, grinding against you to draw out his orgasm as your pussy milks every single drop of cum out of him. When he can breathe again, Paz rests inside of you for a few moments, watching you as you lay there, your eyes half-closed and a dazed smile on your face.

· He pulls out with a wet noise, watching as you squirm. He stays between your knees, watching as your legs fall apart on either side of him on the bed. As his cum starts to leak back out, he gathers it with his fingers and pushes it back into you. Slowly, you gather your withs about yourself, and ask, “When can we do that again?”

· By the end of the night, he’s absolutely certain that he’s fulfilled his promise to you. There won’t ever be a man who can compare to him, not after tonight.

[angry-geese]

Formaggio x Reader

Warnings: nsfw. mutual pining, fluff. Shameless smut, oral (fem receiving), fingering, tender sex. Fem!Reader

Notes: one bed trope turned confession and smut

Formaggio definitely didn't have this planned from the start.

He didn't expect his shitty car to break down in front of the only motel for miles. He certainly didn't know there was only one room available, neither did he know it only had one bed. He'd never heard how messy of a sleeper you were from Risotto, and how on several occasions you'd woken up nearly laying on of your boss.

He truly had no clue.

The mission technically wasn't a bust. It went alright; the job was done, that's about the best you can ask for. It's not often bad days end so early, and with so few casualties. It had been a long day, and all you were looking forward to was a night in some shady motel. The sooner this day was over the better.

Over the year you'd been assigned to the hitman team, not much had happened. You settled into the life rather easy. It wasn't too different from when you first joined Passione, only now you had someone to watch your back. Formaggio had been your partner for a few months. He was insufferable, but in a good way. To you, he was like an annoying little brother. Your constant scheming was getting on the nerves of everyone around you. You two were close- as close as you could get in your line of work.

You weren't entirely oblivious, you had to have known just a bit. The two of you knew the risks. Hitmen don't get happy endings; Passione is not a line of work you grow old and retire in. It wasn't love in an innocent sense- neither of you would risk that- but it was some twisted form of affection. You chalked it up to a childish crush, and prayed things would pass. His desire ran deeper, and had a malicious streak to it. You were not innocent either, but you were less up front with your emotions. They didn't dictate you. His did.

Just what he wanted with you, he wasn't sure. He knew he had to have you. It was more of a need than a want. He found you to be different than his one night stands. He wanted more than just sex- though he wanted that too. While you cared about him, you'd never dare tell him that. You didn't want to face the relentless bullying that would come with a confession should it fail.

The best you two could do was get a motel for the night. You were too far from the hideout to take a cab, and the trains don't run at this hour. Ghiaccio wouldn't be out until the morning to get you. The hotel is decent- you'd spent enough nights in roach-motels to not be picky. It was a small bed and breakfast, hosted in a large Italian villa, run by an older married couple. It was too open for your taste; you two would be noticed there. You make polite small-talk with the owners, finding out you two were the only guests for the night.

You suppose if they get too nosy, the bodies won't be discovered for a while.

Going up to your room proved to have one major problem: the bed. Or lack of a second one.

Formaggio is the first to speak. "I can sleep on the floor-"

You cut him off with: "it's fine. We can share."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me, you can't be any worse than Risotto. The guy takes up the entire bed."

You've shared a bed with friends before, why would this be any different?

It's almost suspicious how little of a fight he puts up. Any of the others would have argued more- or even fought for the bed themselves.

"I call the shower." You say, heading for the bathroom. You really should wash some of the blood off, the lady at the front desk looked a bit worried.

"It's all yours." He says, although he had no plans of using it. Being considerably less bloody than you, he has no plans to. Usually he's an ass about it.

If you invited him in...

While you're showering, he gets settled in, idly flipping through tv channels. He settles on an action movie he's seen about a hundred times. He's made you watch it before- on multiple occasions. You never quite understood why he liked it. It was good enough background noise while the two of you talked.

When you come out of the bathroom, you've changed into some shirt that was probably stolen from Risotto. Everyone took his hoodies- they were oversized and it was basically tradition at this point. He didn't mind. The guy doesn't wear much other than his work clothes. Days off aren't exactly in his vocabulary. Formaggio doesn't have a change of clothes- having much less foresight than you- and instead strips down to his boxers. He makes not of the way you avert your eyes.

"One of us should watch the door," you say, dramatically flopping down on the bed, "I don't think we were followed, but you can never be too sure."

And there you were, the voice of reason as always.

"I'll take first watch," he says before you can even offer.

Just wanting the day to be over, you agree.

Really, you shouldn't have trusted him to stay awake. The bed was just too comfortable, and he was so tired. He was already preparing his excuse for when you would scold him in the morning. Very few people would follow you all the way out here, and you'd be able to spot any enemies from miles away. If there was any danger, the two of you would have plenty of time to flee.

He's sprawled out over most of the bed. The only out of place thing is how warm his body feels. It doesn't even register that it's you he's holding until your snore.

It's oddly domestic, the way he cradles you in his arms. The sight of your sleeping form makes affection swell in his chest. He pulls you so your back is flush against his chest, glad that you're a heavy sleeper. Your warmth and steady breathing threatens to lull him back to sleep. To him, if you were around, it meant he was safe. Its not like he ever got to hold you this close.

"Newbie." He says, checking if you're still awake. Only he got to call you that, anyone else got punched.

To his surprise, you nuzzle into his arms. He says your name once again, but you still don't stir. It should have occurred to him a long time ago how wrong this is. Sleepily he pulls you closer, your back pressing flush to his bare chest. Your hair tickles his exposed skin, the smell of your shampoo is comforting. You shift in your sleep, only brushing against him for a second, but its enough to set him off. He's already half hard, his growing erection pressing against your soft thigh.

What is he, a damn teenager, getting hard over your bare legs?

If you were anyone else, he might have less shame. Maybe he doesn't want to scare you off. What you don't know can't hurt you. Formaggio palms himself through his boxers. Gently he tugs the blankets aside. Your shirt has rolled up a bit, exposing the lacy pair of panties you're wearing. You wanted this as much as him, but you were a lot less hesitant to act on it.

So when you eventually wake up to Formaggio grinding against you, you don't stop him. He does it so sloppily that it's hard to tell if he's even awake. He is- you only find that out when you shift to a more comfortable position.

He freezes, muttering several apologies before moving away. Really, you weren't bothered, but he's so caught up in himself that he doesn't notice. It's hard to deny the heat that pools in your stomach.

"Do you want to?" Although you know the answer is yes, you're still afraid to ask.

He nods.

"I'm all yours." You say. "What do you want to do to me?"

"I want to make you feel good."

You move so you're almost sitting in his lap, legs crossed. Maybe its adrenaline, or a sudden burst of confidence- you're pulling your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Although its dark, you watch as his eyes widen when he realizes you have no bra on underneath. He'd never admit to getting flustered, but your teammates had seen the way he looked at you for weeks. It was the worst kept secret in the hideout. Maybe in passing you told Melone how you felt. Maybe he ran with it. Maybe he told Risotto to assign you two on this mission.

His hand dips between your thighs, his thumb brushing across your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. You're not really wet- not yet- but the start of it is there. He's observant enough to quickly figure out what you like. Slick begins to collect as he works his long fingers over your clit. Your gasps and moans only spur him on further. With no hesitation he shoves your panties to the side, working you open with his fingers. His spare hand moves to your breasts, tweaking your nipples into stiff peaks. He can't help but find himself mesmerized at the way the move when you do. He takes one into his mouth, gently nipping at the soft flesh, swirling his tongue around the nub of flesh. He grunts when your nails dig into his scalp.

He pulls away, releasing your skin with a pop. "You like that sugar-tits?"

"Call me sugar-tits again and I'll stab you." You say. "Christ that is the least sexiest thing you could say."

He laughs, the noise coming from deep in his chest.

You widen your legs a bit to give him room to settle between them, lifting your hips so he can pull your panties off. His attention is pretty hard to pull away from your tits, but eventually you manage. He leans down for a kiss- it isn't much more than a peck. Although it's dark you can see the red that dots his cheeks. You pull him back to deepen the kiss, nipping at his lower lip until he lets you in his mouth. When you pull away, a line of saliva connects the two of you. He trails kisses down your neck, to your stomach, leaving dark marks along the way. He licks a long stripe from your bellybutton to your mound.

He hopes the walls of this place are thick. And part of him doesn't. While he isn't eager to get a noise complaint, he wants everyone in the hotel to hear how good he makes you feel.

Latching onto the bundle of nerves, his tongue traces circles around your clit. You grind down against his mouth, giving him silent permission to go further. He's not the most talented, but it doesn't take him long to find a pace you like. One of his hands grabs at the soft flesh of your ass, trailing across the curves of your body, the other traces up your slit. He works you open with his fingers. Just one at first, then a second, curling against your g-spot. He could watch your form writhe under him forever if you'd let him. Something in your stomach tightens like a coil being wound.

He could die happy with his head between your thighs.

He pulls away as you're about to cum, a smug grin spreading across his face. His chin glistens in the dim light. Formaggio makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste.

"What the hell?" You whine. "Why'd you stop!?"

"I just can't help myself, sweetheart." He wastes no time in freeing himself from his boxers. He's big- about six or so inches, and thick. Its only a bit intimidating. The hairs towards the base are neatly trimmed, trailing up his stomach.

He can't stifle his groan as he slides into you. It's better than he ever imagined- and he's put an embarrassing amount of thought into this. His collected demeanor fails entirely, and he's burying his face in your chest and babbling. At first he's giving you a moment to adjust to his size, but as time goes on he grows worried that he'll cum too soon.

Your arms wrap around him, pulling him close. He sucks a dark mark into your shoulder.

"Fuck- I've wanted this for so long."

The way he says it makes you feel giddy. It almost feels childish to get so excited over that kind of thing. It's quite intimate, the way he's curled up around you. His arms cage you under his body, his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Me too." You say weakly.

Lazily you grind against him, urging him to move.

The pace he sets is lazy, keeping a bit slow as to not hurt you. With all of the prep, it's not exactly a problem. He's still a bit cautious, but when you drag your nails across his back and tell him "harder" that goes out the window. The way you clench around him almost makes him cum on the spot. He hooks an arm under your leg, pulling it onto his shoulder, angling your hips so he can hit deeper than before. From this angle he watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust. His cock strokes at sweet spots you didn't even know you had. The way his pelvis grinds against your clit threatens to send you over the edge, the heat that pools low in your stomach soon turning scorching in nature.

He groans when you clench around him, already so close to your own orgasm.

"Fuck- newbie, you're gonna make me cum."

You can only moan in response. Your own orgasm rolls over you like a wave. Beneath him you writhe as the pleasure becomes too much, snapping the coil in your stomach. You're reduced to a shaky mess, trembling under his touch. He pulls out, giving himself a few pumps before cumming across your stomach.

He tosses you a spare shirt to clean yourself off with before collapsing onto the bed. It's not long until he's pulling you into his arms. The sight of your tired form leaning into him so eagerly makes his heart race. Your head rests on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Idly he plays with your hair.

"Is this where I ask what we are?" You say it like it's a joke, but the laugh behind it sounds a bit too nervous.

"Do you... want to go out?" He asks.

You nod. In the dim light he swears he can see you blush.

"Do you?" You ask.

Formaggio nods. He swears his heart skips a beat. Internally he scolds himself for getting so excited over such a thing. He feels like a kid with a crush. For just this moment he'll let it slide. He can only pray you won't tell the others about this.

You roll him on his back, pinning him under your hands, straddling his stomach. It really wouldn't take much effort on his end to throw you off, though he doesn't. He's too sleepy and content to do so.

"Want to try for round two?"

Dramatically he groans, but it really isn't long until he's getting hard again.

You'd be the death of him.

[leelee10898]

A miss match Christmas: matched for disaster.

Hello everyone! Hope you all are having fun reading and writing these awesome Christmas fics! This is my submission for our 12 days of fictmas: 2020 edition, hosted by myself and @emichelle . This comes from the VIP book miss match.. granted the book is not over but, im my head Jack x MC (Callie) have both become CEO of two's company and are married.. this jumps a few years into the future.

The sound of heels could be heard on the slick marbled floor from down the hall. He kept his head forward, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him. As the clicking grew closer, his lips curled up into a smile. "I thought you were heading home?" He could hear the laugh in her voice, he finally looked up to meet her eyes. Those eyes, that intoxicating smile, it was what drew him in the first time they met. It was 4 years ago on valentines day, in her fathers crowded bar. "I could say the same for you." He chuckled. 

She walked over to the desk, standing behind him leaning down to see what he was working on. Her long brown hair brushed against his cheek.   "Last minute additions to the Christmas party, Jack?" She eyed him, he casually shrugged his shoulders. "And how many clients will be in attendance now?" Her fingers hovered over the mouse, clicking the guest list, her eyes widened in shock.  "He is coming?" Jack gave her a knowing look as she stood up striaght.  "Now Callie, I know what you're thinking but, wasn't it you who said, and I quote 'everyone deserves to find love, no matter what' ?" He gave her a smug smile. 

"Yes," Callie spoke through gritted teeth. "But this guy is accident prone. We will have to tie the decorations down with steel ropes, not to mention no open flames. The wait staff will need helmets.." she began to ramble. Jack chuckled as he stood to calm his pacing partner. "It will be ok,Callie. Just relax." 

Two weeks later… 

Callie stood toeards the back of the room, her eyes constantly scanning for the one person she would have to be on constant look out for. The worry leaving a crease between her eyes. "Have you moved from this spot at all?" She heard his smooth baritone come up beside her. 

"No." She casually spoke, not taking her eyes off the door. Jack shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him as he handed her a champagne flute. "You're cute when you're flustered,Cal. Just Relax." 

Just as he spoke a tall man came into view, callie sucked in a panicked breath and sat her glass on the table. Jack placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and turned her face towards his with his free hand. "We will approach him together, he is here to find a match just like everyone else is." Callie nodded and the two crossed the room.  

"Thomas Haught, it's good to see you again. You remember my partner,Callie?" Jack spoke, extending his hand. Thomas reached out to shake it, missing completely and knocking the glass out of Jack's other hand. 

"Jack." Callie groaned under her breath. 

"I am so, so sorry Jack." Thomas apologized. "I am such a klutz, maybe I shouldn't have come." 

"It's ok Tom,You are perfectly fine. Try to relax, everyone is here for the same reason. Why dont you grab a bite to eat and we will meet up in a few." Jack smiled politely. 

Thomas nodded and headed towards the elaborate buffet table,Callie began to panick "Jack, you just sent him to get food, alone. There are flames under those trays, what if he," callies eyes widened in horror as she watched Thomas's sleeve catch fire.  It was quickly put out by a server. "You see!" She shrieked. 

"Ok, so maybe Toms a little bit accident prone. Which is why we need to find someone who is a great care giver for him." He chuckled, Callie rolled her eyes and walked away. 

As the night went on Callie tailed Thomas. In his wake he managed to trip a waiter carrying a full tray of cranberry and brie with crackers. Knocked over the ice sculpture and elbowed a match maker in the face, blackening his eye.  Tom sat at a table alone, Callie was able to relax a little as she watched him slump his shoulders in defeat. If he was sitting, he couldn't be that much of a threat. 

Thomas was a handsome man, he was tall and had a thin build. He was in his early thirties and a client of the company's for several years. He was thought to be an 'un matchable' but that didn't stop Jack from trying. She recalled his file in her head. The man volunteered with underprivileged children, he owned his own company and was a volunteer fire fighter.  How he managed to not cause more damage with that last part was beyond her. 

As she stood there staring at him, she began to feel that familar feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had spent so much time preparing for disaster that she could not let herself willingly try to match this man. That's when the match maker spark came to life.  "I know that look, you found your fire." Jacks strong arms wrapped around her waist. "I told you to stop fighting yourself, you were going to lose." He chuckled as his lips found the base of her neck. 

"Why is it that the man can rush into burning buildings without falling through the steps, or the place falling in on him. But he can't walk an open room without tripping on a loose thread in the carpet?" She softly hummed. 

"It's probably the adrenaline, that and a mix of confidence." Jack answered.  "When is this party over again?" His lips exploring her exposed skin. 

"That's it!" She quickly spun around in his arms. "You're a genius,Jack! And that's why I married you." She quickly kissed him. "You're a genius." She murder against his lips before turning and walking away. 

"What did I do? No clue?" He spoke to himself, shaking his head and following her across the room. 

"Having a good time, Thomas?" The sound of  Callies voice made Thomas jump up. His knees hit the table and knocked over several drinks and his chair. "I'm so sorry, why am I such a spaz?" Thomas groaned as he lifted a glass off the table. "It's ok Tom, just leave it. The staff will clean it up." By this time Jack had joined the two, giving Callie a confused look. 

"Walk with us, will you?"  Callie motioned to Thomas. Thomas wrung his hands nervously, tripping over his own feet. "This is hopeless, maybe I should just go home.  I can't even walk without tripping over my own feet, how am I supposed to find love? I would probably accidentally harm them somehow." 

Callie held up her hand, motioning around the room at the various people. Some couples that had just connected, others just mingling trying to find a spark. "Do you think any one of these people are perfect? That they don't all have some kind of quirk? Some personal issues? Because I will tell you, nobody is perfect. Tell me Thomas do you have any mishaps when you're running into a burning building?" 

Tomas searched his mind. "Ah, no. No I can't say that I have." 

"And why do you think that is?" She pressed.  

"Adrenaline? I don't have time to think I just do it." He shrugged, a smile spread across her face as Thomas began to connect the dots. 

"I think you have the potential to be a great someone to somebody, you just need to stop over thinking it and be yourself." Callie patted him on the shoulder. Thomas looked to Jack who nodded his head in agreement.  "She's right you know. She's always right." 

As the three stood there, Jack with his arms around Callie and Thomas scanning the room with a new found sense of pride, he noticed a couple getting a little too hot and heavy by the enormous 10 foot Christmas tree. He watched in horror as it began to sway just as a pretty petite dark haired woman stood right in the path of destruction.  Thomas set off in a sprint across the room, he grabbed the woman by the waist yanking her out of the way just in time as the tree crashed to the ground. The pair tumbled on the floor, Thomas landing practically on top of the woman. 

Callie and Jack ran over to the pair as Thomas perched up to look down on the raven haired beauty, shock written all over her face.

"I'm sorry for the crash landing miss but, I couldn't let such a gorgeous creature be crushed to death by a massive tree." He gave her a cheesy grin as he helped her up. 

"Oh my god, Maggie are you ok?" Callie wrapped her assistant in her arms. 

"I'm perfect, thanks to my Hero over here. " Maggie blushed as she motioned towards Thomas. 

" oh im no hero miss." He gave her a bashful smile. 

"Anyone who risks being impaled by a rogue tree is definitely a hero in my book. I owe you one." Maggie flirted.  

"All in a day's work, mam." Thomas blushed awkwardly.  He looked to callie and Jack, callie giving him an encouraging nod. 

"Would you ah, would you like to grab a drink?" 

Maggie looked to Callie and Jack, twos companys no dating clients or co-workers policy used to be iron clad, until Jack and Callie showed Veronica just how stupid the rule could be. Technically it wasn't encouraged to date clients but, Maggie wasn't a match maker and Thomas was actually perfect for her. 

"You two have fun." Callie winked as she grabbed Jack by the arm leading him away as the banquet halls staff began cleaning up the tree fiasco. They walked out onto the balcony, the cold New York air causing immediate goosebumps on callies skin. Jack noticed, shrugging off his jacket and draping it Over her shoulders. "You know if you asked me 4 years ago if I would be here, like this in this moment I would have told you, you were crazy." He spoke softly, his gaze fixed on his wife. " of course I always knew I would be CEO." He gave a cocky chuckle. 

"And now?" She challenged. 

"Now I cant begin to believe my life. I never thought I would share everything with someone I am truly head over heels in love with. I love you Callie Munroe, you never stop amazing me with everything you do. And just when I think you couldn't possibly amaze me more, you go and give us a family." 

Callies eyes widened, she hadn't told him yet. She found out they were expecting a week ago and planned on telling him Christmas morning. "How did you know?" 

"I know everything about you, Callie. I can not wait to be a dad, this will be our greatest chapter yet. Merry Christmas." He leaned in placing a soft kiss to her forehead.  

"Merry Christmas, Jack." 

******☆☆☆☆☆******

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