#him trusting them enough to take off his shoes n soak his feet or grab things in his hands

[mejomonster]

I guess tlt3 won me over how dare it. It just had all the Xiaoge POV content I’ve been desperate for through several shows now lol

Oh and in the newest ep 18 or whatever amongst all the tender kind soft moments of the iron triangle being a family

Are they all sharing one bed? In that guest house?

When wu xie’s helping xioage and checking out the drawing and the tattoo there’s just like one mega big bed behind him

[tommyspeakycap]

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I request Nanami x Chubby Female S/O -Cooking 8+ 9 + 23 for the 700 followers event? Please Take your time to write it okay? If you feel like changing the S/O gender, please feel free to write in any gender you are comfortable with! Good luck on your writing! ❤️💜💚

Sweet Nothings: Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.4k

tw: NSFW

700 Follower Event Masterlist

There's blood on Kento's shirt.

All over the right side of his shirt, in fact.

When he walks into the apartment, his face is long and exhausted, perhaps because he just put in four hours of overtime. But the gun in his hand is enough to remind you that overtime never came without its drawbacks.

"Kento," you whisper, walking up to him and scrutinizing his shirt, your fingers avoiding the blood spatter. "You're hurt."

"I'm okay," he breathes, dropping the gun on the coffee table and sighing. "It's not mine." The realization makes you inhale deeply, and tears well up in your eyes. "But we need to go. Pack some clothes for a few days. It's not safe here." You obey silently, walking over to your room and stuffing a bag full of random clothes, most of which you're sure don't match. Nanami collects cash from inside a DVD case while you rush about, stuffing it into his wallet before grabbing his reading glasses and looking around the apartment.

Another gun is produced, this one outfitted with a silencer and another wad of cash from inside your rain boots. Again, you wait patiently for him to finish his surveillance, then rejoin you at the door, whereupon he unlocks it and walks out first.

From the stairs to the car, you wonder what trouble Kento came across that scared him bad enough to make him want to go to a safe house. But you realize it doesn't matter as you're driving away from the apartment.

Kento knows best. He always does.

The ride is silent as well, and the setting sun turns into rain as you speed down the highway. Halfway into the trip, you look out of the window at the passing landscape, wondering how much longer you had to go when a black sedan pulls up right next to you two.

"Ken..." The window slides down, and you see a man flash a silver gun at the car, aiming right at your face. "Kento!"

Nanami slams on the gas just in time for the bullet to hit the back window, shattering the glass completely.

"Hold on, y/n," he states calmly, and you brace yourself as he begins to speed down the highway, breaking the law but attempting to save your lives. The black sedan follows at the same pace, but when Nanami slides out the gun from the glove compartment and lowers your window, you fight a scream, leaning your seat all the way back.

Pop pop pop

The sound of the black sedan swerving and the metallic crash after lets you know that you're safe for now, and the window is rolled back up.

"You can sit up," Kento murmurs, and you do so, fingers shaking as the seat rolls back up. The wind whistles through the back window of the car as you continue your trip in silence.

You arrive at the safe house thirty minutes later, but you're stuck to your seat, shellshocked. At first, Nanami gets out and retrieves both of your bags, but when you don't get out, he walks over to the car door and opens it.

"Are you hurt?"

"No," you reply, attempting to unbuckle your seatbelt. But when you fumble for the clasp, you suddenly lose your patience, tears falling from your eyes.

"Hey, hey," he whispers, setting your bag by your feet and reaching around your body to unbuckle the seatbelt. "I've got it. Don't worry."

But even as you follow him into the average-looking house, you can feel yourself losing a semblance of sanity, absolutely terrified of what might come next. Kento leads you into the bedroom - which is much bigger than your shared one at the apartment - and sits your things down before moving to sit you on the bed. Wordlessly, he removes your shoes and caresses your toes, humming to himself and still in his bloody shirt.

"You're tired. I think you should rest for a minute." You nod, and he smiles up at you for reassurance. "You did well back there. Wonderful, actually. I’m really proud of you, but now I want you to focus on feeling better now, alright? For me?"

"Alright," you whisper as he lets go of your feet and stands, unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

"I'm going to take a shower if you want to join."

As you stand under the running water, you close your eyes, hands on your shoulders while you wait for Nanami to find a towel. When he does, he enters behind you, closing the door and pulling your body flush against his. He holds your round hips under his rough palms, lips drifting down the side of your neck slowly. You don't realize you're shivering in the warm shower, at least not at first, but then Nanami clutches your shoulders, kneading them gently.

"Relax for me, my love," he coos, and you try your best, but in the middle of him lathering soap onto the loofah and cleansing you, you crack.

"I'm so scared," you murmur, and Nanami stops, eyes roaming over your face and calculating his next move.

"It's okay to be scared," he replies, continuing to wash you. "But I need you to trust me. I'll keep you safe."

Once the shower is over, you towel off, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom with your towel wrapped around your body. Nanami sifts through his things, pulling out his weapon and sitting it on the wooden bedside table. You inhale slowly, but then exhale, finding some sort of peace in your mind. You would only have to stay here for a few days...

"Y/n, come here," Nanami calls from the bedroom, and you pad over to him. He pulls you close by your hips, and dips his head to capture your lips with his, hands roaming lazily over your full figure.

"Kento..." you moan when he kisses down your neck again, this time unwrapping your towel and letting it drop to the ground. As he palms your breasts, you sigh with pleasure, forgetting all of the awful things that happened earlier and relishing in his touch. And he works silently, pushing you to the bed and laying you out spread eagle.

Kento groans low in his throat when he dips a finger into you, feeling your wetness already pooling between your thighs. He adds another finger, then laps at your clit next, sucking as he finger fucks you skillfully.

"Fuck, Ken," you hiss, wrapping your fingers into his hair. His response is nothing less than a feral grunt into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through you as you grind onto his face. "Please..."

The fingers that are nestled in your cunt rock back and forth rapidly, stroking you with ease as your climax builds and crests over into a full-blown orgasm. Nanami's fingers go as deep as they can as your walls clench around them, spasming rhythmically as his lips pop free of your clit. When you finish your first orgasm, he removes his fingers from inside of you and places them in his mouth, moaning around them.

"You always taste so good..."

"Fuck me," you pant, and he obliges, saddling himself between your plush thighs and sinking into your soaking wet cunt. You both groan at the sensation of him inside and you fitting around him perfectly, then at the way he moves within you, leaning down on your body and bringing his arms up to frame your face. "Ken," you pant as he slows his strokes to a pleasurable and leisurely pace.

"I don't fuck," he breathes. "I make love." He leans down to kiss you, lips brushing over yours before sinking into you fully and then kissing you with passion. "But you know I would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy." At this, you feel tears forming in your eyes, and they only release when Nanami leans back down to kiss you again, tangling his tongue with yours in an illicit dance as he makes love to you. “Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m here," he whispers when you hiccup as your tears roll down your face, hips rocking into yours.

"I love you," you reply, sniffing. "God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too," Kento echoes back, breathing heavily. "You're my entire world."

After Nanami makes love to you twice, he tucks you into bed and walks to the foyer of the house, placing a chair facing the door with his gun in hand, waiting for anything... anyone.

Like he always does.

[wallwriterstuff]

The Good I Come Home To ||Leon S. Kennedy x Female!Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Angsty, PTSD Leon being very jumpy and shell-shocked, mentions of sex. 

Words: 3318

Summary: Originally posted to my Archive of Our Own Account. 

Part 2 can be found here

Leon has kept it very casual with you for months, seemingly oblivious of the growing feelings you harbour. You have no idea just how badly it hurts him to leave you every time until he tries to cut you out of his life completely. You have other ideas. You just have to persuade Leon they're the right ones.

Leon S. Kennedy was a complicated man in many respects, but it was easy to unravel all those complex layers if you started looking at his core values, his sense of purpose. To serve, to protect. Leon was built to be the bodyguard of humanity, the first line of defence between unimaginable horror and the things he loved. Every experience had moulded him into this hard shell of a man, so far from the one people used to know. It had been interesting, really, to see an old friend from the Police Academy approach him and see just how different they had turned out. They both had the eyes of experience anybody in the force acquired over time, but Leon’s were sterner, like an unbreakable stone as opposed to ice you could chip away at and eventually shatter. This old friend of his had a small-town job and apple pie life. He had the white picket fence and the wife who kissed him when he came home to freshly made dinner. His children were doing well at school.

Leon had listened like his life was a whole other world away. It was visible in his eyes, though he carefully kept it off his face, that the comparison between each man actually disturbed him. You hadn’t meant to see of course. It was pure coincidence you’d happened to be in the supermarket, walking down that same aisle. His old friend had hit the barricade you so often hit when you asked. You’d stopped questioning it after a few months of back and forth and the looming threat of losing him became a dark and unbearable burden.

“So er, heard about the huge explosion at Raccoon. Where’d they place you after that?”

“Nowhere. I work for the government now.”

“Oh damn. FBI?”

“Something like that.”

His job was the complicated topic. Classified and bad enough to put a certain brand of darkness behind his eyes when you asked, it was  best left untouched by your hands because it was hidden beneath the many layers of the man you’d only ever been allowed to scratch the surface of – literally and figuratively. Beyond his core values, the simplicity of Leon S. Kennedy lay in his needs. He was a flesh and blood man after all. He was guaranteed to need to eat, to do laundry, to shower, to relieve himself. These simple needs were what made him somewhat predictable to you. On his best days, when he text you days or hours before, you were almost guaranteed to be wined and dined. Okay so the wine and dine option was sometimes more like beer and take-out pizza but it was always paid for by him if you bought the alcohol.

When he was feeling a little less than okay, you’d get no outright statement of his desire to see you, but he’d hedge around the topic and wait for you to ask him, like he was afraid to be a nuisance. You’d only get this awkward and prompting behaviour from him an hour or two before he showed up which left you little time to prepare, but a quick shower was always on the cards. In his worst moments, he’d give no warning and simply show up at your house with smouldering eyes that demanded your attention and everything else you had to give him. God help you, you always gave him everything. As simple as his needs were, as his feelings on the matter appeared, yours were much more complicated. Leon S. Kennedy had made it clear from the start when he met you at the bar that fateful night, all chiselled jaw and playful eyes, that nothing serious was to come of this.

It had progressed to a proper agreement when you both seemed to just keep running into each other. You were free to date, if you so pleased, and he’d stop showing up. He’d be gone like dust in the wind, untraceable and impossible to bring back. You didn’t want that. Until the day either of you became tied down you had agreed you were exclusive. You sated each other only. It was hard to keep to that promise all the time when he was away for long periods, but you remained true to your word anyway, and that was how it had stayed for a solid eight months. Leon came back to a bed you kept free just for him and left in the morning like it was no more than a pit-stop on a long and winding road.

You suspected he wasn’t proud of it. You thought sometimes you could see something softer in his eyes, something that made you think he wished for something more than he was already giving you. There were moments his eyes lingered when he said goodbye, times his hands stayed on you a little longer than they usually did. On rare occasions, when he was just a bit too drunk after what you guessed was a bad job, you let him sleep it off with his arms around you and listened to the whimpers in his sleep with an aching heart. Leon consistently let you have his body, gave you the briefest glimpses at the big heart he held so carefully hidden away, but never once did he let you into his mind. As much as you loved being with him, you had never truly been with him at all. You’d never truly connected with him beyond anything physical. It pained you to know you never would. You cared for him too much. You saw the deep pain he carried with him everywhere, and you’d never be able to alleviate that load because he wouldn’t let you.

You had to pause the TV to be sure you’d actually heard anything at all, but when you heard the noise again it was stronger, bolder. Knocking. Glancing at the clock, you turned the TV off with a frown. There weren’t many people who would come knocking at this late hour, and you didn’t know if your heart was in it tonight to let him in when he would forever keep you out. As if on cue, when you opened the door to a dripping wet Leon, thunder rumbled and rattled the open window in the corridor of your apartment block. A small puddle of water had formed on the windowsill, dripping in as the harsh rain battered the glass. Leaving your door propped with the door stop you kept nearby for moments like these, you crossed to the window to close it and lock out the weather. You felt sullen enough without the storm clouds invading your house.

“Leon if you’re here to drink that’s okay but I’m not really up for-“ you cut yourself off, uncertain all of a sudden as to what it was he was here for. His needs were always so simple, the looks and actions associated with them something you had come to learn to recognise without much conscious thought. This was entirely new. Those piercing blue eyes were sullen, fighting between being as hard as sapphire and as soft as calm ocean waves. What was frightening was the depth of the ocean you saw. It was like staring into an abyss of torment. Red-ringed and with whisky on his breath, it didn’t take a genius to realise Leon had been crying and was in fairly bad shape. Hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, he stared at you through those horribly complex eyes, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out. He was pale, breaths even but heavy, like he had to physically remind himself to huff out each one.

Wordlessly, you took him by the hand. His skin was freezing to the touch and you guessed the faithful jacket had done little to keep the bitter cold from seeping into his exposed skin. Your theory was proven right when his cheeks were just as cold to the touch.

“I…” you thought he might say more but it was like watching a caveman learn to talk. There were only sounds, no words. He was usually very skilful with his tongue but tonight those talents were nowhere to be found. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders you hung it to dry over the back of your sofa, hoping the radiator would do its job and leave it toasty for him when he inevitably put it on to leave you again. You ignored the stinging in your chest at the thought. Leon didn’t need you to be petty right now. Truthfully, you were frightened. Leon’s carefully constructed composure had been shattered by something and you didn’t think you wanted to know what was strong enough to shatter this man’s rock hard exterior and cut him so deeply. He stood dumbly in your hallway, and you gently pushed him to the edge of the sofa to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t traipse water into your home.

“Shhh Leon, just come with me.” You coaxed him back onto socked feet, leading him down the hall to your bathroom.

“No…no Y/N I, I don’t…” he swallowed.

“Do you trust me Leon?” you asked him, keeping your voice gentle like you were cajoling a wild animal into eating from your palm. Leon nodded without question and you smiled slightly. “Then just follow for me now.” You kicked open your door and led him to the edge of the tub, grabbing a towel from the shelving units there and placing it on the sink.

“What are you doing?” he could barely speak above a whisper, looking confused and upset and lost all at once.

“I’m going to run you a nice hot bath before you catch your death. I don’t know how long you were in the rain for Leon but you’re frozen to the bone.” You said calmly, putting the plug in the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. Leon didn’t answer, merely watched you with the eyes of a man so lost in trauma he couldn’t find his way back to the surface world and make sense of the happenings around him. While you waited for the water to turn steamy, you rubbed at his hair with the towel in your hand to dry it. You knew something was incredibly wrong when he let you mess it up like that. There were very few instances you were allowed to touch his hair and you had to always, always comb it back into place or suffer the consequences. Occasionally, you took a break to fill the tub with some of your prized bath oils. Lavender, camomile, jasmine, all your favourite scents from a beautiful kit a colleague had bought you as part of secret Santa last year.

He didn’t comment as the room filled with intoxicating, relaxing scents, nor when you checked the temperature again and told him he could get in when he was ready. He held the towel in both hands, staring at the cotton as if it might hold some answers.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. You nodded once.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” you asked him. He nodded once, but he didn’t meet your gaze. He was lying you were sure. “Okay. Take as long as you need in here, I’ll be about when you feel ready to see me alright?” you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. Your lips lingered a little too long, but Leon didn’t move away. He closed his eyes as if the contact was all he had wanted and more. As the door closed behind you you heard the soft, muffled sob he tried so hard to bury in the towel, and your heart broke a little more. Something had shattered Leon S. Kennedy and it didn’t sit well with you at all to see him this vulnerable. He needed the space right now to get his mind back in order but once he did, when he was ready to face you, you weren’t sure you’d get an explanation from him. He’d shut down every time you’d ever asked for one before.

He’d woken screaming one night, lashing out so violently that if you had been sat upright there’d have been no way to avoid his fist and he’d have knocked you out cold. When you tried to ask what was wrong, he’d simply snapped at you to leave him be and left your apartment so fast there could have been a fire under his ass. So, what did you do? Did you just not even try? He hadn’t made a move on you, had specifically said no when he saw you heading in the direction of the bedroom. But if he wasn’t here for sex what was he here for? It only added to your anxiety that you really had no clue what he wanted if it wasn’t your body he’d come for, and though part of you thought that should make you angry, another part of you hoped that that meant it was something more that he was after this time. The kind of more you wanted.

No. You had to try for him. You couldn’t let him go on like this. He didn’t have to fight the war in his head alone, not when you were here. At least, if he wanted to go it alone, he could have someone stable waiting with a safety net if he stumbled. For now you’d let him linger and soak in the tub, and you’d make the most out of the ingredients you had in the fridge. If he stayed, he could eat it off a plate. If he didn’t…well, you’d make some in a container in case. Pasta bake had always been your father’s speciality and it had been your favourite as a child, was still your comfort food now. Chicken and bacon sizzled, pasta boiled, and you grated the cheese to the rhythm of your favourite song playing softly on the radio while the milk and butter warmed on the stove. You snagged a piece of bacon from the wok and let the salty flavour burn your tongue.

With your masterpiece constructed and more cheese grated on top, you slid the dish into the oven for it to crisp up and set your timer, setting about washing the utensils next. It kept your hands busy, kept your mind from wandering too much, but even the sudsy water couldn’t quite keep your mind from ticking over. Why had Leon come here in the pouring rain? What had spooked him so badly he’d thought, in his less than coherent state, that he needed to be here in your apartment? Did the fact he’d come to you mean anything at all or did he just happen to be nearby? You put the saucepan a little harder than necessary into the rack when it slipped from your hands, jumping and cursing to yourself at the loud clang it had made.

“Y/N!” Leon almost roared your name in pure, abject terror. Eyes wide you rushed for the bathroom, hands still soapy and dripping water. He was already out of the bathtub, naked and scrambling through his jacket until he came up with a gun of all things, aimed right at you as you burst through the door. A shriek escaped you and you immediately dropped to the floor, hands above your head.

“Leon it’s me!” you begged. Harsh breathing filled the room.

“Where is it?” he demanded. You peeked up at him from below your arms, lowering them slowly. He was half-crouched, eyes wild and fixated on the door that led back to your room. He offered you a hand. “Come on, get up and get behind me, where is it?” he repeated the question more firmly now.

“Where’s what? Leon I – there’s only us here. I just dropped a saucepan.” You breathed. His expression faltered, confusion flooding his features first , then guilt, and finally grief. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled slowly. He lowered his gun after a few more deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking a little like a kicked puppy. You shook your head, slowly pushing to your feet so as not to startle him. His skin was tinged pink, little suds clinging to the ends of his hair. The timer went off in the kitchen and Leon flinched again, hand tensing around the gun. You soothingly placed your hand on his arm.

“It’s just the timer. We’re the only people here Leon, nothing’s going to hurt us. How’s about you dry off and come have something to eat?” you suggested. He blanched at the mention of food and you frowned. “You don’t have to eat everything, just a little bit, you look really pale.” You reached for the towel and held it out to him until he reluctantly nodded and wrapped it around his waist. You left the door slightly ajar and headed for the kitchen to switch off the damn timer. He was so jumpy, so eager to jump to your defence. You plated up a small portion, not wanting to put him off with a large one. You didn’t feel particularly hungry yourself but you’d had a proper meal earlier in the evening, a cup of tea would suffice, camomile and honey would soothe your nerves. Leon had a liking for peppermint you knew. Maybe if he was nauseous that would help him eat? Tea and pasta bake served you sat opposite his place, one hand wrapped around the handle of your mug and the other pulled up to your mouth, your teeth nibbling the side of your nail.

“You’ll make your thumb sore.” He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or run away. You dropped your hand and placed a more welcoming smile on your lips, nodding to the plate.

“Chicken and bacon pasta bake. It’s good.” You invited. Hesitantly, Leon shuffled to the chair and sat down. You didn’t push him to talk. Months of being with Leon had assured you that pushing would only clam him up further, and you wanted to pry him open tonight. With a sinking feeling, you realised it might be the last night you ever saw him. He’d let himself be extremely vulnerable to you already and you weren’t the type of person to see this kind of trauma and let it go unchecked. You’d want to check in on him, you’d want to help him feel better, and Leon didn’t appreciate the questions you’d have to ask to get the kind of help he needed right. He sighed slightly, picking up the fork and taking a small bite. He looked physically sick for the first few mouthfuls, and you made an effort to distract him with small talk about the weather, your day and all its mundane happenings.

He seemed enraptured by your very voice, soaking in every syllable that crossed your lips and mindlessly working his arm and mouth to clear the plate and drain the mug in front of him.

“Can I have a bit more? It’s really good.” He surprised you with his request but you obliged him, spooning some more on his plate.

“If you’re that partial to it you can take some home to.” You said simply. He nodded once, clearing the second portion with ease and looking much better for it. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked a little more put together than before. You settled back in your chair, watched him clean his plate and put it in the drying rack. It was a courtesy you’d never have asked for but were grateful for nonetheless. He didn’t turn around though, keeping his back to you and tightening his grip on the countertop.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Learning to Swim

Request: (whenever you have time of course.) What about a post-war draco malfoy x reader where after astoria dies draco and scorpius are left alone for a couple years then he sees y/n a friend from Hogwarts and they fall in love again (you can decide how). this is my vision and I'm a sucker for post-war fics with draco. 🥺💕 - @obx-beach

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQUEST SO MUCH. Thank you so much for requesting it and for trusting me with your request! It got away from me but I really wanted to explore this idea in depth because for me, anyway, grief isn't something that disappears over time, but rather, becomes bearable. Please read the warnings before reading, I cover some heavy topics. As always, I hope you like it!

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy talk of grief and loss, some swearing, mentions of food, alcohol consumption, mentions of ghosts, a very cheesy ending.

Word count: 11.9k

Draco so rarely finds peace nowadays; a consequence of a confidently walking toddler who’s penchant for curiosity has him grabbing at what he can – the paper, the rug, the dog’s tail.

Draco so rarely find peace nowadays, but once a week, on a Saturday, he drops Scorpius off at his parents. His mother and father doting over the blonde-haired boy who looks more like his mother everyday despite the argument from Narcissa – “He has your nose, Draco!”

On the days he drops his son off at the manor, he apparates to the familiar black gates. They squeak whenever he opens them and no matter how many times he visits, he never remembers to bring the oil he promises to fetch.

Now, he doesn’t look at the names as he makes his way towards the familiar row, hands in his pockets, shoes sinking in the wet grass.

Before, he’d drag his feet. Reading every name he could as he struggled to come to terms with his disbelief and grief.

The granite headstone sits prettily above its plot; the marker for Draco to slow his pace to an amble.

She had died a Malfoy but had been buried in the Greengrass plot.

Draco had known of Astoria Greengrass for years; had been schooled with her sister but had known the family personally for years due to similar social circles, and as a result, social functions. Draco spent ball after ball getting to know the younger Greengrass sister much to the chagrin of Pansy Parkinson who still held a candle for Draco since their fling ended in Fifth Year.

He worked up the nerve to ask Astoria to dinner after a particularly hellish function where his father had pushed him to dance with every available girl that looked his way. For the most part, Draco accepted – wanting to keep his father happy and his mother hopeful. But through every dance, through every twirl on the floor, his eyes would wander back to where Astoria sat very intently focused on the napkin design.

On his third circuit of the dancefloor, Draco broke away from his dance partner earning a glare for his disrespect. He apologised with a smile but turned to the brunette sitting alone; he held his hand to her, and she took it with the grace of a well-raised daughter.

They span around the dancefloor; circle after circle after circle. They laughed, and they smiled, and they settled into a happy silence. One Draco felt so comfortable in that by the time they had finished their second dance together, Draco was certain he wanted to marry her.

By the end of the night, Astoria knew she wanted to marry him.

They were married less than six months after that night.

Three months after they were married, Astoria announced her pregnancy. Rumours started; stating that was the real cause for their quick wedding. But their families knew different; their families spent the entirety of the pregnancy wrapped in a cocoon of worry.

Then blood curse on the Greengrass family meant that Astoria would die at a young age, and Draco had prepared himself for that. Though, in private, he researched what he could to see if he could break the blood curse. This meant, however, the pregnancy was watched closely by Narcissa, by Daphne, and by multiple Healers flooed in from St Mungos.

Nine months later, on an unusually warm day in January, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was born. Immediately, Draco knew that though he had his hair, Scorpius had his mother’s eyes and mouth.

Three hours after the birth of her son; as she held him tightly in her arms, watching him with the love only a mother could know, Astoria Malfoy nee Greengrass took her last breath.

-----------

The months after her death, Draco barely coped. He woke up in the mornings solely for Scorpius and Scorpius alone. He devoted his time to his son, marking every milestone in his baby scrapbook which on occasion he would take to his wife’s grave and go through it with her. Scorpius never visited the grave; for starters, he was too young, Draco wouldn’t let his son go through that but his son knew that his mother was no longer with them.

But that didn’t stop Scorpius asking for his mother after a nightmare had pulled him from sleep.

Narcissa tried to help; tried everything she could to help with his grief – at one point even suggesting he go see a psychic, but the fear of transference was enough to put Draco off the idea.

He didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that he didn’t need a psychic to tell him Astoria had made it to the other side and that she had found peace.

She haunted him nearly every night.

Flashes of her white night gown in the corner of his eye; glimpses of her beautiful face in the mirror.

His heart would race, and his palms would sweat as the panic set in.

For a long while, he believed himself to be going insane. The sheer grief he felt at the loss of his wife driving him to madness as though he were Heathcliff suffering the loss of his Cathy.

------

Draco had memorised the inscription on her headstone after visiting for a month straight.

He had memorised the path to her grave by the end of the first week; the soil still needing to settle.

His feet knew where the uneven ground would be, so it was all dodged expertly.

Draco has very little to say to Astoria when he kneels in front of her. He updates her on Scorpius; promises that he will bring him soon, but it was still too early for his son to see his mother.

In fact, most of his time at the grave is spent in silence. His knees soaking wet from the morning dew still covering the grass.

“Draco? Is that you?” A chiming voice asks as Draco’s head remains bent over his wife’s grave. He releases a sigh before looking up to see that it’s you – someone he hasn’t seen in years. The last he saw of you; you were stood defiantly facing the hordes of Death Eaters in courtyard at Hogwarts.

“(Y/N)?” He asks.

You frown, pointing towards the grave where his wife lies in perpetual sleep, “I heard, but I didn’t believe. I’m sorry for your loss, Draco.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “Why are you here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You hold the flowers in your hand up in response, “I lost my grandfather less than a year back. I visit every week.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. He was a great man.” Draco murmurs, shame washing over him from his curt tone.

“Thank you,” You murmur quietly, “It’s still hard.”

Draco wants to offer words of comfort; to tell you that pain eases over time, but he would be lying to your face. The pain doesn’t ease, and the grief doesn’t lessen, it simply moves to one side and becomes bearable until something reminds you of the one you’ve lost whether it be a sound or a smell and then the pain washes over you like a tidal wave and you start to wonder whether you’ll come up for air or simply drown.

Draco decides not to say anything; turning back to face the woman he had pledged his life too.

You walk away after a slow nod; you wouldn’t get anything more out of him now.

-----

They say that time heals, that grief lessens, but it doesn’t.

Draco loves his son; he adores his son, but he cannot help but see him as a reminder of what he lost on the day of his birth.

He had gained a son; an heir to carry on the Malfoy name but he had lost the love of his life.

Draco leaves the graveyard soon after his encounter with you; feeling surly with how he had spoken to you.

He searches you before he leaves, but he finds you knelt at the grave of your grandfather with your head bent as the silent sobs rack your body.

He leaves you to your privacy; understanding that right now, intrusion is the last thing needed.

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

Draco sits in the living room of his marital home that night; a tumbler of whisky in his hand as he leans back in the chesterfield armchair gifted to him by his parents as part of their wedding present.

The wedding present being the house.

There are reminders of Astoria all over the house; from the pattern of the curtains to her photos lining the walls. She was everywhere. How was he was supposed to start living his life when his house remained a mausoleum?

He feels the hand on his shoulder; he doesn’t need to turn to see who it is.

“You need to stop doing this, Draco,” She murmurs.

He sighs through his nose, “I don’t see why.”

“You’re hurting everyone around you; you didn’t use to be like this.”

“It’s been a trying time, love.”

“I know it has. For both you and Scorpius, but it’s been three years, darling.”

The air in the room has become cold; too cold. To the point where his breath has started to fog; he takes a sip of the amber liquid to warm his body through.

“I can’t forget you, I won’t. He has no memories of you; he needs me to remember you.”

The voice behind him shakes, “My love, you’ll never forget me. I live on in him.”

Draco doesn’t say anything; the lump in his throat making it impossible for him to speak. The absolute yearning with him has him reaching up to take the hand settled on his shoulder.

The tears start to fall when his hand falls through the ghostly spectre.

-----

Morning comes and Draco wakes in the same chair he had fallen asleep in. He scratches at the stubble lining his face as he stretches his legs, bones popping as he stands to full height.

The clock on the mantle chimes seven times and Draco supposes he should start the day and collect his son from the Manor. He hadn’t been in any state last night to have him at home; it was better for Scorpius to stay with his grandparents.

The light to the bathroom flickers as Draco drags himself into the shower; the hot water and lavender shower gel doing a good job at leeching the tension that had become set into his shoulders.

He wipes the steam from the mirror before lathering his face with shaving cream and beginning the soothing action of shaving. Narcissa preferred him clean shaven anyway; believed that the stubble made him look like a vagrant.

A flash of white in the corner of his eye has Draco freezing with the razor halfway to his cheek.

His hand begins to shake, and he places the razor back in the sink as he braces himself on the counter. He counts to ten before he dares to look back up at himself in the mirror.

He was being haunted.

------

In the years after the Second Wizarding War, Narcissa had taken it upon herself to entirely renovate Malfoy Manor from the dark, dank place it was to make it more of a home for her family. A home in which Draco should have been raised in.

Narcissa greets him at the door with a kiss on the cheek and a concerned look that only a mother could pull off.

“Good Morning Mother, how are we today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you looked better. Did you get any sleep?”

Draco nods, thinking to the few hours in the armchair, “I got some.”

“Not enough by the looks of it, but at least you shaved. Have you eaten yet?”

He shakes his head, “I came straight here.”

“Luckily for you, Scorp is still eating.”

Draco hangs his coat on the grand railing by the door before following his mother through his childhood home.

His son beams at the sight of his father walking through the door, “Dad!” he yells, dropping his piece of fruit and jumping off his chair. He runs to Draco, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Draco chuckles, picking his son up, settling him on his waist, “Hey there squirt, did you have a nice night with granny and grandpa?”

Scorpius nods, still chewing his last piece of breakfast, “Yeah, me and granny baked, and she let me eat the mix!”

Narcissa lets out an overdramatic gasp, “That was our secret, Scorp!”

Scorpius laughs at his granny’s reaction, “I had to tell Dad!”

Draco tickles his son’s stomach; grinning at the laughter leaving his son’s mouth.

He had never known a world with his mother; and he never would, yet here he was as happy as any three year old could be.

“Are you joining us, Draco?” His father’s voice sounds; breaking Draco from his melancholy.

Draco clears his throat, letting Scorpius down so he can sit next to Narcissa at the table, “Yes, I think I will.”

Anything to not go back to the house so soon; anything to avoid seeing her in the corner of his eye or in the mirrors.

Narcissa nails him with a look she has made entirely her own after dealing with a supremacist order for over a decade.

Draco wavers under his mother’s stare; ready to drop the pretence and cry in her arms.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he grabs the bowl of strawberries and scoops a spoonful onto his plate before reaching for a waffle and grabbing his knife and fork.

“Lucius, darling, why don’t you show Scorpius your matchbox collection? I know he’d love them.”

“What are matched boxes?” Scorpius asks.

Narcissa laughs lightly at her grandson’s pronunciation, “Match boxes, sweetheart.”

Lucius stands from the table; knowing very well what the determined look in his wife’s eyes meant, “Come on, my boy. I’ll show you my collection; I want to see if you can count how many there are.”

Scorpius’ eyes light up at the chance to make his grandfather proud; he jumps down from the chair before reaching to grab Lucius’ hand. Together, they leave the dining room, Lucius prattling about the history of the match box and why they needed to be collected.

Narcissa waits until they’re out of earshot before turning on her son who on the outside, almost pulled off looking so put together. Inside, she knew, was a broken man desperate to find a way to lessen the pain.

“It’s been three years, darling.”

“I know,” Draco answers; resisting the urge to groan.

“How often are you visiting her?”

“Once a week now.”

There was a point in the first months after her death where Draco would visit the graveyard every day for hours. He didn’t even say anything; he just sat on the perfectly trimmed grass in front of her grave and sobbed for the life that had been lost and the future that had been robbed.

Narcissa nods, “That’s good, Draco.”

Draco nods; he had gotten better in the years since her passing but Narcissa would never understand what it feels like to lose a spouse a year into a marriage that should have lasted an eternity.

Narcissa sighs, “Do you think it’s time now?”

“Time for what?” He asks; voice hard.

“To think about finding somebody else? I’m not saying you need to do it right now, Draco, but it’s something to think about.”

Draco sees red, but he tries to keep a lid on his temper for the simple fact that it is his mother sitting in front of him, “I lost my wife, mother. She died giving birth to my son; your grandson. She died and now Scorpius doesn’t have a mother and I don’t have my wife standing beside me. I think I’ll take all the time I need to recover from this.”

Narcissa sighs, “Of course, Draco. You know I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

Draco rubs at his eyes; feeling wretched for the way he had spoken to his mother. She barely left his side after Astoria’s death; she had been the one to pull him away from her body.

“I’m sorry, mother. It was a tough night.”

“You’re having a lot of those, I’ve noticed.”

Draco’s lip begins to wobble, and he thanks Merlin that Scorpius is out of the room, so he didn’t have to watch his father fall to pieces.

Narcissa folds her son into her arms with the care only a mother could show. She strokes his hair as he sobs against her.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard,” Draco sobs.

“Neither did we, my love.”

-----

Draco feels better after talking to his mother. Lucius returned fairly quickly after Draco had dried his eyes; Scorpius following on his tail, chattering about what he planned to do when he returned home.

Draco opens his arms for his son who happily falls into them; preferring to be carried rather than walking unless he was running around the gardens or the park.

“Do you have everything you need?” Draco asks his son.

Scorpius nods as Lucius holds up the small overnight bag that holds his clothes, pyjamas and his priceless teddy, Wellesley. It was the first thing Astoria brought when she found out she was pregnant. Scorpius treasured it like nothing else.

Draco takes the bag from his father; well aware of the extra treats hidden there. Scorpius had Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wrapped around his little finger.

After they apparate home, Lucius and Narcissa watch the spot in which their son and grandson disappeared. Hands clutching the other; both worried sick over their only son.

-----

He fills his week with his son; adventures, hide-and-seek, visits to the library. Draco makes sure Scorpius fills his day with activities designed to educate but to also have fun.

It’s also a way for Draco to keep his mind drifting to the one person who no matter how he often prays and wishes, will always remain absent.

The park is one of Scorpius’ favourite places to visit. He has a personal aim to swing as high as he can without giving his father a heart attack.

They spend their hours doing all sorts together, and every night before bed, Draco tucks Scorpius in tightly. Dropping a kiss to his son’s head and then his teddy’s head, Draco wishes Scorpius the sweetest of dreams.

On a night, Draco lets the memories of his short marriage consume him. He doesn’t wear his wedding ring on his finger anymore, but rather, attached to a chain he wears around his neck. He twists this chain for hours on a night thinking of the mother that Astoria never got the chance to be.

------

Draco’s visit to the graveyard is shorter this week on account of what happened last time. He knew what happened in the living room was down to the fact that he had spent too much time at her grave, lamenting how much he missed her.

It was expected that she would answer his calls.

So he resolves to make this visit shorter; long enough to clean the area and replace the flowers but short enough to not tempt fate and spectres.

Draco recounts to her tales of Scorpius’ week. Draco laughs and beams like a proud father when he tells the story of Scorpius adopting the family of Nifflers from their copse at the bottom of the garden. He had been so proud of himself; walking all the way back to the house with a four Nifflers in tow who had deemed Scorpius as one their own.

“You’d have thought he was a Scamander,” Draco laughs, patting the loose grass from his suit pants. “I think he could very well excel at Care of Magical Creatures but it’s too soon to tell, my dear.”

Eventually, Draco stands, wiping down his black suit trousers and whispering a goodbye.

Draco is a few steps away from the black, creaky gate when you bustle through; bouquet in hand, sad smile on your face.

You pause in the gateway when you see Draco standing before you.

“(Y/N),” Draco greets, “I was hoping to catch you. I wanted to apologise for how I spoke to you the last time I saw you.”

“Draco, there’s nothing to apologise for. You’re mourning your wife; the last thing you need is someone invading that space.”

“All the same, I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”

“I accept your apology, Draco.”

“Would you like to join me for a coffee? It’s been years since I saw you last, and I think it would be nice to catch up.”

You glance between the flowers in your hand and Draco waiting patiently for an answer.

“It’s okay if you don’t. I understand if you want to be with your grandfather.”

You bite your lip, glancing back to the flowers, “Do you want to come with me? All I need to is say hello and change the flowers. You don’t have to, though.”

Draco shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. I’ve had my visit today, so I don’t mind waiting with you.”

You smile at him gratefully, “Thank you; he’s just this way.”

Draco follows you as you walk the well-trodden path to your grandfather’s grave. He doesn’t let himself think as he follows, and as a result, almost bumps into you when you stop in front of a grey granite headstone.

“Hi Grandad,” You greet, “I’ve brought someone with me today, I hope you don’t mind. I’m just changing your flowers though because then we’re going to get coffee.”

You turn your attention to Draco when you finish speaking, “It’s morbid I know but it helps me process. I know he isn’t hearing me, but I can vent here and somehow I always find a solution to my problem.”

Draco nods, “I do the same with Astoria. I tell her about Scorpius and her parents though I know they visit just as much.”

You smile at the blonde-haired man before discarding the dried out flowers to one side, replacing them with the fresher, brighter flowers.

Draco watches you through the process; not missing the way your eyes dart between the headstone and to something just past it.

For a brief moment, Draco wonders if you’re being haunted too.

-----

The coffee shop is warm compared to the brisk wind that howls outside. Draco’s body relaxes as he takes in the familiar scent of bitter coffee beans; it was a recent love of his, but now, he wouldn’t find himself going a day without a cup of the acrid liquid.

You unravel the scarf hanging around your neck before taking a seat at a corner table, “I didn’t think it would be this cold today. It makes me glad I overdressed,” you chuckle.

Draco laughs politely; his own coat now hanging on the back of his chair.

You smile, “Do you know what you want? I’ll go order.”

“Nonsense, I’ll order, I invited you here.”

“Well I won’t turn down free coffee, I’ll have a latte please.”

“I’ll be right back,” is all he says before leaving the table to order.

As the drinks are being made by the teenaged barista, Draco starts to second-guess his intentions for why he asked you for coffee in the first place. All week the conversation he had with his mother had been replaying in his mind, and then he runs into you as he’s leaving the graveyard. Before he knew it, the words were flying out of his mouth and he was unable to stop them.

He’s panicking, but he doesn’t find himself regretting asking you.

He’s only regretting his intentions as to why he asked you.

He’s been alone for three years. He has Scorpius, and his parents, but he doesn’t have anyone he can talk to on a night when the air is quiet, and the moon is high. He doesn’t have that one person that he can simply hold and know that everything will be okay.

Then and there, he lets himself admit it: he’s lonely.

Astoria had been everything for the eighteen months they had been together. He was utterly devoted to her; completely besotted by her. Draco knew that he had found the love of his life; he just didn’t expect her to be taken from him so soon.

But still he wonders.

He wonders if it’s time; he wonders whether Astoria watches him and urges him to find someone new.

To feel that rush of falling in love all over again.

The clinking of mugs rips Draco from his internal debating. He thanks the barista with a smile, picking up the tray of drinks and walking carefully back to where you wait for him.

You thank him as you pick up your latte, “You looked to be thinking pretty intensely over there.”

“You were watching me?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you say, “I got bored of the view of the café.”

Draco nods; sipping tentatively at his coffee, wincing before adding another sugar to taste.

“What were you thinking of? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I don’t mind. I was thinking of Astoria,” he admits.

You simply nod your head; understanding completely that a widow would think of his loss.

“How are you coping with her loss? It’s been a few years now, hasn’t it?”

“I could ask you the same question about your grandfather,” Draco murmurs, “We’re coping okay. Scorpius is thriving; he’s such a smart three year old and I know I’m biased but he retains information like a sponge.”

You laugh, “I was going to ask you about your son, I’m glad to hear he’s happy.”

“He doesn’t have any memories of his mother, but he knows who she is. He has a framed picture of her in his room that he says goodnight to every night.”

“He sounds precious, Draco.”

Draco nods; thinking of his dear boy, “He is. And I know she’s proud of him, I just feel it in my bones.”

“I’ll bet my last sickle that she’s proud of you too.”

Draco blinks fast; ridding the sudden tears away. “Thank you,” he whispers, taking another drink of his coffee to distract from the sudden wave of emotion.

He clears his throat once the wave has passed, “I asked you here to catch up; not for me to ruin the mood with my grief. How have you been? I haven’t seen you since the war.”

“You can talk to me about this, Draco, I don’t mind,” You state before continuing, “I’ve been well – I travelled a lot after the war. The whole realisation of life is short really hit me, so I left the country for a bit; travelled through Europe before jumping ship to America.”

Draco’s eyes widen, “That’s incredible. Where was your favourite place to travel?”

You glare at him playfully, “That’s such a hard question!”

He laughs lightly, “Still – you have to answer.”

You tap your fingers against your thigh, thinking his question over. You had loved everywhere you visited; feeling extremely fortunate to have met such a range of magical communities as well as integrate yourself within muggle society for a time.

“I think it would have to be this tiny island in Greece; it is said that in ancient times, the locals believed it was the end of the world, and if you went any further, you would fall off. I stayed there the longest; around a month where I explored the island, ate their food, and drank with the locals. It was the best time of my life.”

Draco inhales sharply at your words; not realised that he’s instinctively leaned towards you through your speech. He leans back into his chair, running a hand through his hair, “It sounds wonderful,” he whispers.

You nod; eyes glazed somewhat as you think back to your time on that heavenly island, “It really was.”

You shake yourself from your reminiscing, “What about you then, Draco? I know about the wedding, and your son, but what did you do after the war?”

Draco waves his hand in a nonchalant fashion, “Nothing as wonderful as travelling the globe though I did go to France on my honeymoon. I trained as a Healer straight from Hogwarts; I’ve been at St. Mungo’s since Scorpius was born.”

“That’s great, Draco! I always knew you would make a great Healer ever since I saw you in Potions.”

Draco ducks his head, “Thank you, I enjoy the work. Are you working now?”

You nod your head, “I work for the Daily Prophet; writing real articles and not the trollop that Rita Skeeter used to waffle on about.”

Draco barks out a laugh, surprising himself at the volume of it, “I remember her coverage of the Triwizard Tournament! It was so awful.”

You beam; eyes bright with joy, “Weren’t they? I promise I’m a much better writer… not to sound big-headed.”

“I completely believe you; I’ll have to start keeping an eye out for your articles. I haven’t read the paper in so long. I haven’t had the time if I’m honest – I get my news from my mother.”

“How are your parents? I heard about them after the war.”

“Mother coped so well. She made it her mission to entirely renovate the house, and with it, the Malfoy reputation. She donates to charities now; her focus is children orphaned during the war. Father struggled, but he’s found his purpose for life again in Scorpius. Last time I was there, he showed him his collection of matchboxes.”

You laugh lightly, “That’s brilliant. I’m glad to hear that they’re doing well.”

“How is your family? I remember your mother from Kings Cross, always running to meet you off the train.”

“She’s doing okay,” You sigh, “She struggled after my grandfather but she’s working her way back to herself.”

Draco nods in understanding; he felt nothing but pride and a sting of jealously for your mothers process with her grief. Here he was, three years later, and still reaching out to the other side of bed only to grasp at empty, cold sheets.

However, as all things must, your time together comes to an end. The coffees are drank; coats are pulled back on and goodbyes are said on the pavement.

Draco walks away from you; apparating back to his home feeling lighter than he has in years.

------

Draco takes Scorpius to Diagon Alley on a Wednesday morning.

His son had been particularly restless the night before; a nightmare waking him. Draco does what he can to chase the monsters away before scooping up his only son and carrying him to the master bedroom. Scorpius sleeps soundly after that, but Draco remains awake – mind plaguing him with memories of Astoria but also of the coffee he shared with you.

It’s noon when Scorpius begins to pester his father for lunch. In his own words; he’s starving, and he hasn’t eaten in hours.

Draco laughs at his son. Three years old, but utterly dramatic. He kneels down so he’s eye-level, “How about we have ice cream for lunch?”

Scorpius’ face lights up and he begins to jump in his spot, “Can we go now? Please?”

Draco nods, holding out his hand for Scorpius take so he doesn’t get lost in the short distance to Florean Fortescue’s. He had lost him once; and whilst it was only two minutes before he found him, it was two minutes, he never wants to relive.

Draco lifts Scorpius so he can see the rows of flavours behind the glass. Scorpius’ eyes are wide as he checks the colour of every flavour. He even goes so far to press his face to the glass, fogging it up. Draco chuckles at his son’s antics; knowing full well he’ll pick the same flavour he’s gotten on every visit.

“Have you decided?”

Scorpius nods, “Chocolate please.”

Draco places Scorpius on the ground, “One chocolate tub, and one caramel fudge swirl tub please.”

Florean nods at the young Malfoy family with a large smile; watching them sit down at a window table before bringing their ice creams to them.

Scorpius attacks his chocolate tub with ferocity. Draco touches his son’s hand, “Slow down, squirt. You’ll get stomach ache.”

Scorpius looks as if he doesn’t believe his father’s word but not wanting to risk the chance of a stomach ache, he slows his pace. Carefully scooping the frozen treat before eating. His legs swing as he watches the scores of witches and wizards passing; they all look to be hurrying somewhere yet Scorpius doesn’t know where, but seeing all the different people, keeps his attention squarely on the window.

Draco works his way through his ice cream faster than his son; his weakness being the caramel fudge swirl that Florean makes fresh every day. He settles for drifting once his tub is empty and Scorpius is happily distracted by whatever he’s watching out of the window.

Draco begins to wonder about his son’s future – something he’s done a thousand times since his birth. He wonders about what Hogwarts house would best fit his sons personality; though he knew that the Sorting Hat would be the final word on that. But Draco can’t help but ponder over what attributes his son will demonstrate – will he ambitious enough for Slytherin? Courageous enough for Gryffindor? Loyal enough for Hufflepuff? Creative enough for Ravenclaw?

He had eight more years to ponder over it, but it’s still a question he’d like answered. However, Draco would still adore his son no matter his house.

“Draco?” Your voice sounds, breaking him out of his deliberating.

“(Y/N),” He greets.

Scorpius turns from people-watching, taking in the visitor standing at their table.

“And you must be Scorpius, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).”

Scorpius shies away slightly from the new person, inching back a bit in his chair.

“It’s okay, Scorpius,” Draco reassures, “I went to school with (Y/N).”

You nod, “I did! I was in Slytherin with him, and he was so smart! He still is; he’s a Healer isn’t he? Isn’t that so cool?”

Draco blushes at your compliments but it brings Scorpius out of his shell.

“My dad is the coolest! He fixes people when they are very sick.”

You nod seriously, “Yes, he does. It was very nice to meet you, Scorpius but I have to get back to work with my ice cream.”

Scorpius smiles, his teeth on show, “Goodbye!”

“It was nice to see you, Draco,” You say, smiling at the blonde-haired man.

“It was nice to see you too, even if it was so brief.”

You laugh, “Work calls I’m afraid, but I always have an ice cream, so I wasn’t going to let work stop me,” You wander back to the counter where Florean waits with your cone, “I’ll also cover Draco’s bill too, Florean.”

“You don’t have to,” Draco begins to protest.

You hold your hand up, smiling gently, “You treated me to coffee. I’ll treat you to your ice cream.”

Draco nods, wordlessly. Scorpius watches him with his eyebrows furrowed.

You take a lick of your cone, “I’ll see you soon, Draco. Have a nice day, Scorpius!”

And like that, you leave the ice cream parlour, heading back to the office where a pile of work awaits.

Draco leans back in his chair, disbelief clear on his face.

“What’s wrong, dad?”

Draco shakes his head, “Nothing, squirt.”

Scorpius shrugs, determining it adult stuff. “I like the lady who spoke to us.”

“(Y/N)?”

Scorpius nods, “She was really nice.”

“She is. She was nice when we were at school together.”

“She’s a good friend.”

“She is,” Draco murmurs once again, mind in another place entirely.

Scorpius lets his father have his moment; turning back to the window, wondering if he might get to see the nice lady named (Y/N) again.

------

Two months pass, and January’s winter gives way to March’s spring.

The gardens at his home and at the Manor have started to bloom beautifully meaning that Draco is constantly surrounded by floral aromas that make his head spin and Scorpius sneeze.

Draco starts to see more and more of you at the graveyard. After each visit, you seem to wait for the other – always asking whether the other would like to go for a coffee; very rarely refusing the offer.

He enjoyed the time he spent with you; Draco felt like he got to make up for the lost time he was an arsehole at Hogwarts.

The more time he spent with you; the more he started to feel the urge to begin his life again. But the hauntings continue; he continues to see his wife in the mirror; hearing her voice on a night whispering to him that it’s okay to move on. But hearing those words from the mouth of the woman he promised an eternity with racks his entire body with guilt.

But it’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t want to stay away from you.

The more time you spend with Draco Malfoy; the more you can feel yourself fall for him – his smile, his eyes, his mind. You just hoped that the landing wasn’t going to be too rough.

------

Draco drops Scorpius off at the Manor before heading to the graveyard for his usual Saturday visit. He blindly hopes to see you again after running into you at the ice cream parlour and seldom seeing you after but refuses to let himself dwell too long on the hope.

He was visiting his dead wife, after all.

He still grieves for her; still reaches for her in the middle of the night, but there are times through the day where he doesn’t feel so weighed down by grief – where he feels as if he can begin functioning fully once again.

But then that brings the guilt.

And that leads to the sightings.

And then that leads to the visits.

It’s a vicious cycle, and he’s desperate to break it.

He knows logically that Astoria would always be a part of him; he sees her every time he lays eyes on Scorpius but the small voice in the back of his head tells him often that he isn’t ready to let go yet.

And all Draco is desperate to know is: when?

-----

You find him knelt before her grave. He’s silent; simply staring at her headstone, reading the words that are already seared into his mind: Beloved Daughter, Wife, and Mother.

You place your hand on his shoulder and he jumps at the sudden contact. He relaxes once he sees it’s you, “(Y/N),” he breathes out, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I can tell,” you murmur, “Are you okay?”

He nods silently; gazing at the headstone once again, “I will be.”

“I can stay with you, if you need me.”

He shakes his head, “Go. Go see your grandfather; tell him hi from me.”

You want to laugh but nothing comes out. Draco looks at you; his blue eyes bright, “I’ll be okay,” he says gently.

The softness of his voice has you stepping away, “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

Draco nods, hearing you walk away from him.

He’s a man made entirely of conflictions. He watches you from the corner of his eye and wonders whether he is finally ready to start his life again after Astoria; ready press play once more and see what happens but the sheer fear that runs through him, paralyses him.

He doesn’t know what to think; he doesn’t know what to do.

All he knows is that in the handful of times he has seen you, you make him want to live again.

----

Your time with your grandfather comes to an end, and you stand from where you had knelt, murmuring a goodbye.

You can’t miss the way Draco remains in front of his wife’s grave. Standing just after you; stretching out the tight muscles in his back that had stiffened the longer he had sat there.

You sigh at the sight; mindlessly wondering if you would ever find a love that would impact you this much.

It was unintentional; it hadn’t meant to happen but the feelings you once harboured for the Slytherin Prince were returning in full force the more you saw of him.

But now, there was so much more to consider.

At Hogwarts, it was social groups that kept you from ever revealing your crush – that, and Pansy Parkinson. Now, though, Draco was a widower still very much in love with his dead wife, and he had a son that came first.

You know you need to tread carefully, but there was something addicting about the man’s presence. His way with words; his hand gestures; how he’d slip off into his own mind – it all had you caught; you were hook, line, and sinker.

You make your way back to the blonde-haired man, “What do you say to another coffee? I wish I could have stayed longer the last time I saw you, but work, you know?”

Draco nods; looking very much as if he wants to accept – the words being on the very tip of his tongue, but he sighs heavily, “I can’t today, I need to grab my son from my parents.”

“Oh,” You shake your head – of course, “Another time then! I’d like to see you again soon.”

You make to walk away but a hand reaches out and grabs your wrist, “Would you like to come with me? I need to grab Scorpius but we’re making dinner tonight and you’re welcome to join.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You won’t be. Scorpius has been asking about you.”

That makes your decision for you, “Alright, I’ll join you for dinner.”

Draco smiles; letting go of his hold on your wrist, “I usually apparate to the manor, do you mind?”

You shake your head, placing a gentle hand on his outstretched arm.

Within a second, you’ve landed at the seat of Malfoy power for the last century. Draco was right you realise; Narcissa had lightened the manor up. Flowers border the main path; stemming from Hyacinths to white Lilies, to Irises. Colour lives up the home immediately, and the warm light coming from the masses of windows only makes the place more welcoming.

“I remember visiting here when I was a youngster,” You start, “I remember it being cold and uninviting… no offence, but now it feels so warm and happy.”

“That’s my mother’s influence,” Draco states; smiling wryly at the sight of all the flowers, knowing too well of the masses of Roses behind the manor.

Draco sounds the knocker three times before Narcissa pulls open the door with the smile reserved only for her son. She blinks twice before registering your presence; then she needs to do a double take.

“Afternoon, Mother,” Draco greets; leaning in to kiss her cheek which Narcissa returns distractedly – her eyes still on you.

“Draco, dear,” She greets, “And who have you brought with you?”

“Straight to the crux, aren’t we?” Draco laughs, “This is (Y/N). Surely you remember her?”

“Not Anthony’s granddaughter?”

You nod your head; ignoring the spear of grief flung through you at the sound of your grandfather’s name, “The very same,” you greet, “It’s lovely to be here. I was just mentioning to Draco how gorgeous your flowers are.”

Narcissa beams; her flowers are her pride and joy other than the son who had battled so much and came out the other side only stronger. “Thank you, my dear. Lucius and I were so saddened to hear of Anthony’s passing – tell me, how is your mother doing?”

“Better, thank you. She took his death as a blow – well, we all did but she took it the hardest being the only daughter and losing my grandmother so young.”

Narcissa nods; ushering you into the foyer of the grand manor, “We sent flowers, but we’re sorry we couldn’t make it to the service.”

A lumps forms in your throat at the mention of the service. It had been a beautiful and respectful service, but your memories of it were tied with the heart-clenching sobs of your mother as he cried about how she missed her father. It was a hard day and night for all; very few had dry eyes.

Draco notices your hesitancy at replying to his mother; notices the glazed look in your eye. He wraps his arm around Narcissa’s shoulder, distracting her from asking you any more questions, “How was Scorpius today?”

“Like always, an angel,” Narcissa coos, “Lucius has started to teach him French.”

“French? So early?” Draco asks; keeping a wary eye on you.

“Nonsense, my love. You were three when we started to teach you the basics.”

“You speak French?” You ask; mind now focused back onto the conversation. You shoot a grateful look to draco; he replies with a soft, kind smile.

Narcissa nods, “Most of our family does. Draco has spoken French fluently since he was nine years old.”

“Oui, maman,” Draco responds cheekily.

Narcissa playfully hit her son’s shoulder, “Hush you. Scorpius is with your father in the Library – shall we go grab him?”

Draco nods; desperate to see his son after hours apart, “Are you okay to follow?” he asks, throwing a glance to where you remain rooted.

You shake yourself free; banishing all thoughts of Draco and his speaking of one of the most romantic languages on the planet from your head.

You follow with a sheepish smile, “Definitely. Even I’ve heard tales of Lucius’ library.”

Narcissa chuckles, “He spends more time in there; researching and reading anything.”

“What does he research?” You ask; curiosity piqued.

“Anything – the pagan tribes of the celts at the moment. He’s focused on the history of Wiltshire at the moment; I’ve had stop him twice this week from apparating to Stonehenge and scaring the tourists.”

Draco pauses; falling into step with you as Narcissa opens the library doors, “My father needed something to do after the war; historical research turned out to be his niche.”

“It sounds like he’s having one hell of a time,” You comment; not kissing the grin that stretches across Draco’s face.

“Scorp, darling, your father is here!” Narcissa calls out after not having found her grandson where she had left him with his grandfather.

It’s hard to miss the footfalls of the toddler as he runs through the shelve stacks, crowing, “Dad! You’re back!”

Draco catches Scorpius in his arms, “Hey there, squirt. How was your day?”

“Fun. Grandpa taught me about the selts.”

“Celts, my boy,” Lucius says, appearing from behind one of the many shelves, “A hard C. Celts.”

Scorpius’ eyebrows furrows as he repeats the word again, “Celts.”

Lucius claps, “Excellent! We’ll make a historian of you yet.”

Scorpius beams at the pride rolling off Lucius in waves; he almost doesn’t notice you standing next to Draco.

“(Y/N)!”

“Hi Scorpius,” You greet.

“Why are you here?” He asks.

You laugh at his curiosity, “Your father invited me for tea, is that okay?”

The young boy nods, “We’re having pasta.”

You smile, “I like pasta.”

Scorpius nods again, and just like that, it’s settled.

Draco hitches Scorpius higher onto his hip, “He wasn’t much trouble?”

His question breaks his parents from staring at the exchange between you and Scorpius. Lucius smiles at Draco, “Scorpius is never any trouble.”

“Thank you for looking after him again.”

“It’s no bother to us. We love the boy,” Narcissa comments; blinking away what look to be like tears.

“We’ll see you soon, no doubt,” Draco says, “Say bye to granny and grandpa, squirt.”

Scorpius yells his goodbye with a large smile.

Draco holds his free arm out to you, and the three of you apparate to his home in the next village over.

Draco’s house is nowhere near the size of Malfoy Manor, but it is still large in comparison to the two bedroomed flat you rented in Diagon Alley.

It’s perfectly symmetrical you realise as Draco opens the garden gate. Two windows on either side of the pale green front door. Always a Slytherin, you think as you follow Draco up the main path. He readjusts Scorpius as he reaches for his key; putting Scorpius down as he opens the door.

Scorpius reaches for your hand, “I’ll show you the kitchen,” he states, leading you through the large foyer to a room just to the right.

The kitchen is the biggest one you’ve been in. The island being home to a breakfast bar where Scorpius tries to climb up to before you cave and place him on one of the stools.

Draco follows closely behind; opening the fridge to grab the ingredients for dinner.

You hop off a stool, “What can I do to help?”

Draco pauses, “You need to sit down, I said I was cooking.”

You roll your eyes, “I want to help, so what can I do?”

“Add the pasta to the pot when the water starts to boil. I’ve already salted the water.”

You nod, rolling the sleeves up on your blouse. Draco doesn’t miss the small tattoo on your left forearm, “When did you get that?” he asks as he starts to crush and chop some garlic.

You look down to the now familiar swirling patterns below the crook of your elbow, laughing, “I got it after our Eighth Year. I snuck out to a muggle artist and got it done; mum hit the roof.”

Draco laughs, moving on to slicing the tomatoes in two. You look down at the pot of water, happy to see it boiling. You add the pasta to the pot, stirring twice before stepping away from the pan.

You sit back down at the breakfast bar; ruffling Scorpius’ hair as you do so. The blonde-haired boy giggles, “Can I see your arm?”

You glance at Draco to check that he’s okay with Scorpius seeing your tattoo. Draco nods and you hold out your arm for Scorpius to gaze at your tattoo.

He reaches out a small finger, running it over the ink gently, “Did it hurt?”

You shake your head, “Not a bit.”

“Dad has a tattoo.”

You stiffen at his words; so does Draco.

The Dark Mark that mars Draco’s arm wasn’t spoken about when it was placed on his forearm, and it wasn’t spoken about now. It has been years since the Dark Lord was vanquished by Harry Potter yet his mark upon the house of Malfoy had definitely been left.

“It’s pale but I’ve seen it.”

Draco clears his throat, saying somewhat brokenly, “Dinner is almost ready. Go clean up, squirt.”

You help Scorpius down from the stool; grinning as he rushes away to the downstairs bathroom to wash his hands before dinner.

As soon as he’s left, you turn your attention back to Draco who’s stirring the pan of pasta quietly, “I’m sorry, Draco.”

“For what?” He asks incredulously.

“For showing him my tattoo. I didn’t think he would bring up yours.”

Draco shrugs, “It’s okay. I’ve learned to live with it, and like squirt said, it’s pretty faded now.”

You nod, “I’m glad. Where do you keep your plates? I’ll grab them for you.”

“Second cupboard on from the fridge. There’s a small plastic one for Scorpius there too.”

You grab the three plates, wandering back to where Draco is adding the pasta to the sauce simmering away in the pan. Scorpius rushes back into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table by the window.

“Show us your hands, squirt. Are they clean?”

Scorpius holds his hands up, waving them at his father. Draco squints, pretending to look over his son’s hands with extra care, “Very good. Are you ready to eat?”

“Yes!” Scorpius shouts, legs kicking under the table.

Draco laughs, “Well it’s a good thing it’s ready then!”

Draco takes over yours and Scorpius’ plates first before grabbing his and the cutlery. He cuts up Scorpius’ pasta before settling in his own seat and starting to eat.

“This is so tasty,” You compliment, “One of the best meals I’ve had.”

Scorpius nods rapidly, working through his own mouthful before saying, “Dad is the best cook! You should try his pancakes!”

“Thanks, squirt,” Draco replies, smiling at him.

“I’ll have to try those pancakes one day,” You murmur, casting a side glance at the blonde-haired man sat to your left.

“I think you will,” He replies, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

Of course, you would rekindle feelings for your teenage crush when he’s now a widow and a father. You wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you focus your gaze back to your meal.

The dinner is soon over, and the plates are cleared away to the sink where they’ll be washed after dessert.

Dessert is a slice of chocolate cake and ice cream; a treat from Narcissa. Scorpius makes as much conversation as he can; telling his father and you about the day he had at his grandparents where he learnt about the mystical celts and Stonehenge. Soon, though, his eyes start to droop and his final spoonful of cake clatters to the plate.

Draco scoops up his son; cradling in his arms as he once did those years ago. Draco murmurs an apology to you as he carries his son from the kitchen to his room,  but you wave him away.

To help, you collect the plates and start running the hot water, adding dish soap as you go. You’re almost finished with the final plate when Draco returns from putting Scorpius to bed.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind – it makes me feel useful.”

“Alright. You washed, I’ll dry,” Draco bargains; grabbing the tea towel from the counter and picking up the first plate.

“Did he fall asleep okay?” You question.

Draco nods, “Out like a light, I had put his pyjamas on for him.”

You chuckle, “Bless him.”

“He really likes you,” Draco comments.

“Well, what’s not to like?” You quip, grinning, “I really like him too. He’s a credit to you, Draco.”

Draco finishes drying the final plate; putting them back in their assigned cupboard.

“Thank you. Would you like a drink, or do you need to be at work early?”

“I do, but I’d like that drink.”

Draco pulls two glasses from the display before reaching for a bottle of red wine. You already knew that you would wake up tomorrow with a headache, but it was worth it to spend more time with him.

Draco pours two glasses before handing one to you. He grabs the bottle and his glass, leading you to the living room across the foyer.

You take a seat on the maroon couch, taking a drink of wine before placing the glass on a coaster.

“Thank you for the meal. It was delicious. Where did you learn to cook like that?”

“That is all part of Narcissa Malfoy’s rearing of a good husband. She started teaching me to cook before I left for Hogwarts and would give me lessons every school holiday.”

“Well, you’re very good. I’ll be thinking of that pasta for days.”

Draco smiles at you from over the rim of his wine glass and your stomach flips.

“Why did you tell your mother that it was just dinner?” You question, referring to the incident earlier at Malfoy Manor. You take another sip of wine, watching Draco the whole time.

“Mother has it in her mind that it’s time for me to find someone new. She worries that I’ve been alone too long,” Draco drawls wryly.

“What do you think?”

Draco swishes the remaining wine in his glass; reaching for the bottle to refill.

“I don’t know,” is his answer as he tops off your glass too.

“Are you lonely?”

“You really are a journalist, aren’t you?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, smiling, “Are you though? Lonely?”

Draco locks eyes with you; the answer is on the tip of his tongue, ready to make its entrance but he’s interrupted by the cry of his son.

Wine glasses are placed hurriedly as you both rush to the young boy’s room; his cries getting louder.

The both of you fall into the room in a hurry; desperate to help Scorpius. Draco shakes his shoulders, bringing him back to reality.

“Scorpius, Scorpius – it’s okay, open your eyes.”

“Dad?” Scorpius asks; his voice a sob.

“It’s me, squirt. I’m here.”

Scorpius opens his arms for his father. Draco picks him up with no hesitation; cuddling his son to his side – drying his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt.

“It sounded like a bad one,” Draco comments.

Scorpius nods, “I don’t want to go back to sleep, I’m scared.”

Draco looks torn in two. On the one hand, Scorpius needs to sleep otherwise he’ll be as cranky as a Hungarian Horntail tomorrow. However, on the other hand, Draco won’t force Scorpius back into another nightmare by insisting he sleep.”

You step forward, perching on the end of Scorpius’ bed, “I have an idea, but you need to be all comfortable and cosy, okay?”

Scorpius nods timidly; rearranging himself against Draco’s side, cuddling his beloved teddy tighter.

“Are you cosy?”

He nods once more.

“Okay, I’ll begin: Once upon a time in a far off land there lived a king who was very lonely. He had tried for years and years to meet the love of his life, but he felt defeated for he hadn’t found the one…”

It takes over an hour – three stories and two muggle songs before Scorpius is soundly sleeping once again.

Draco shifts him with the expertise of a parent before leaving his bedroom with you in tow.

He goes to close the door, but you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him. “Leave it open two,” you start, “the light from the landing will comfort him a little if he has another nightmare.”

Draco leaves the door open a crack. Turning to you, he says, “I don’t know why I never thought of that.”

You shrug, “It’s something my mum used to do for me.”

“You were incredible in there by the way,” Draco compliments as you descend the stairs together.

“Thank you,” You murmur shyly.

“Where did you learn those stories and songs?” He asks, “I feel like I should take notes for next time,” he chuckles half-heartedly.

You laugh too, “The stories I made up years ago and the songs are muggle ones I heard on my travels. I used to babysit my younger cousins for extra pocket money – I got to be creative very quickly.”

“Well it paid off,” Draco comments, eyes flickering to the stairs.

“It certainly did,” You murmur; eyes following Draco’s.

It’s silent for a few moments; the both of you thinking of the other without the other knowing. You, terrified to tell him for the fear of rejection. Him, terrified about letting down his dead wife.

You both go to speak at the same time and promptly burst into quiet laughter.

Through the span of the conversation, you’ve gravitated towards Draco – bodies angled towards each other, hands close to touching, heads close together.

If you leaned forward an inch, your mouth would be on his.

The alcohol coursing through your veins makes the connection for you as in the next second, you’ve leant forward and attached your lips to Draco’s.

He doesn’t respond at first; too in shock by your boldness but when you’re about to pull away, he wraps a hand in your hair, keeping your mouth pressed to his. Lips glide together seamlessly. He bites down on your lower lip, making you gasp. He deepens the kiss then; shifting on the couch to press you further into it.

Your hand make their way into his hair, and Draco groans against your mouth at the feel.

But it’s all too much and you need to pull away.

Chest heaving, you drag your mouth away from Draco’s. He nuzzles his nose into your cheek, pressing little kisses across your jawline to your ear before sitting back up.

“I didn’t expect that,” You gasp.

“Neither did I, but I’m not mad about it.”

“You aren’t? I did just jump you.”

Draco laughs, “It would have happened sooner or later.”

“Really?” You ask; a note of happiness unmistakable in your voice.

Draco nods, running his thumb across your lips, relishing in the fact that they’re swollen because of him.

The wine has gone to your head, and you feel your eyes begin to droop before the first yawn hits. You sigh, pulling away from Draco’s distracting touch, “I think I better head off.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to leave.”

“Why, do you want me to stay, Draco?” You tease.

He nods, “I can’t offer much, but this couch is really comfy.”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You ask; the wine making you more brash.

Draco blushes. You take back your words, “I’m sorry, Draco. Red wine goes straight to my head.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it isn’t. I just propositioned you and all we’ve done is kiss,” You groan, dropping your head into your hands.

Draco pulls your hands away from your face, “(Y/N), it’s fine, really. The blanket on the back of the couch is really warm; grab it will you?”

You feel your face heat as you reach for the large grey blanket draped over the back of the couch. Draco stands momentarily to toe off his shoes before settling back down on the couch. You slip off your own shoes before clambering onto the couch next to him.

This was all so intimate.

Draco throws the large blanket over you both. Once suitably covered, his arm slips around your waist and your hand rests on his chest.

Neither of you say anything. No words need to be spoken now; everything expressed through actions alone.

With a kiss to the top of your head, Draco falls asleep unafraid of what he’ll meet in the morning.

--------

It’s the sunlight that wakes you. Bright light warming your face; you flutter your eyes open to find you face to face with Draco’s chest. Neither of you had moved in night; if anything, becoming closer together. At some point, his legs had tangled with yours and your hand had gripped his shirt so tight, it came away wrinkled when you loosened your grip.

You sigh happily; then you glance at the clock on the mantle piece where the hands make it abundantly clear that you were going to be late for work.

Extracting yourself carefully from Draco’s hold, you pick up your shoes from the floor. You search quickly for a spare piece of paper and a pen; scrawling a note for Draco to read when he wakes.

With one last look at the man you had fallen for in such a short amount of time, you apparated away.

-----

Draco wakes not long after you leave; feeling oddly light without the weight of your body pressed up against him. He frowns when he realises that you’ve left without a goodbye but with a glance at the clock, he doesn’t have much time to worry about it.

Scorpius would be awake any minute and demanding breakfast.

Draco sits up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It had been so long since he had slept with someone by his side; wrapped around him the way you were, and he was happy to admit, he had missed the feeling of another human pressed so tightly against him, he could feel every contour in their body.

He almost falls off the couch when he notices your note lying on the table. He grabs it with shaking hands:

“Had to go to work – meet me for lunch if you can? Thank you for last night. You still owe me pancakes – (Y/N).”

He feels like a teenager again experiencing the rush of his first crush. He runs a hand across his face; standing up to get a start on breakfast. He folds your note in two before sliding it into his wallet for safekeeping.

It’s then that Draco realises he has two things he needs to do.

-----

Draco drops Scorpius off at Astoria’s parents for the morning. Apologising to his son for bailing on their plans of the park and the library; Scorpius simply pats his father’s face in goodbye before running to his grandma and grandad Greengrass.

Draco waves at his in-laws before apparating to see their daughter.

-----

The graveyard looks entirely different, but Draco knows nothing has changed. What has changed is him, and he need to tell Astoria.

Kneeling in his usual place in front of her grave, Draco releases a shaky breath.

“Hi darling, I know I’m early for our visit, but I have something important to discuss with you,” He looks down at his hands before continuing, “I think I’ve met someone, and I really want to pursue it. I want to see where it goes.

“You have to understand, darling, I never thought I would love again after you. I really didn’t and for three years, I’ve been an island with just enough room for Scorpius. I didn’t expect it, but it happened, and I like the way (Y/N) makes me feel. I feel excited again; my hands are shaking from the very thought.

“Scorpius likes her by the way, and she likes him, but they both know they won’t ever fill the role that you were supposed to. And I think they’re both happy with that knowledge.

“I’m not asking for your permission, but I am asking for your forgiveness. For not loving you harder; for not taking more time to be with you; for not apologising immediately after every argument. But I’m ready to start living again and I’ve found someone that makes me want to live again; that incites that spark of life within me, and I desperately want to see where it goes.  

“I haven’t seen you in a while; around the house. I think you realised what was happening before I did and finally made your peace with it. I can’t ever forget you and our time. I see whenever I look at our little boy, but I’m ready to begin again, and so I shall.”

Draco stands from the grave feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had to speak to Astoria before he could speak to you; he had tell her his choice but to reassure that he would always love her, but his heart was ready to make room for another person.

And that person was you.

With one last glance at the marble headstone, Draco apparates to Diagon Alley.

----------

The offices to the Daily Prophet newspaper lie in a side street just off the high street. He signs in at reception but asks the receptionist not to alert you of his presence. The receptionist flushes when she realises that she’s now part of a romantic plot. Draco smiles at her gratefully as he makes his way to the main lift, asking for your floor.

He taps his foot the entire ride up to your floor, annoying every single person in the lift with him. But he can’t help it; he’s both excited and nervous.

In a few moments, he’s changing the direction of his life forever, and he couldn’t feel more ready to start.

The door opens on your floor and Draco rushes out, followed by the happy sighs of those journeying to higher floors. He wants to laugh at their reactions, but the butterflies rioting in his stomach make him feel as if he could vomit right on the muddy brown carpet.

It’s not hard to find which desk is yours by the amount of trinkets on there. Files are precariously high in one section, and then the rest of the desk bar the cream typewriter is covered by snow globes and tiny figurines of landmarks from your travels. From this first look at your desk, Draco already has a sense of what your flat will look like.

You gasp when you see Draco standing in the door to your office, “Draco, you’re early for lunch.”

Draco walks up to your desk; his hands shaking through it all, “Let me make you pancakes.”

“What?” You ask, breathless.

“Let me make you pancakes,” He repeats, “I want to make you pancakes in the morning.”

“Really?” You sniffle; tears collecting.

Draco nods, “I’m still grieving, but I always will be. However, that doesn’t mean my life needs to come to an end and I realised that I want it to continue with you by my side so… let me make you pancakes every morning.”

Tears have started to fall down your face and you sniffle before speaking, “Okay. You can make me pancakes.”

Draco beams; eyes crinkling. He leans in close to you, whispering, “Do you think you can get off early?”

You grab your bag before he finishes his sentence, “Let’s get out of here.”

Draco holds his hand out for you to take. At the feel of your skin against his, a jolt of electricity runs between you. It takes everything in him not to drag you into a kiss in the foyer of the building.

He waits until he’s in the street.

Like a gentleman.

He waits until the coast is somewhat clear before pulling you into his side and drawing your mouth to his like you did last night. Your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you.

It’s not your first kiss, and it won’t be your last, but this one kiss means the world to the both of you.

Through it all, you’ve learnt to swim.

-------

A year later:

Scorpius is almost five years old when he visits his mother’s grave for the first time in his life. He had been less than three weeks old when she was buried in the Greengrass plot

Scorpius watches as his father kneels before her first; apologising for his absence and asking for her forgiveness.

But then he looks to Scorpius; where he stands with his hand holding onto yours tightly.

Draco beckons to Scorpius with an open hand. Scorpius staggers to his father’s side immediately.

“Hi Mum,” he whispers.

Draco’s hand is firm on his son’s shoulders; a comforting presence.

“I miss you,” he starts, “I know I never got to know you, but I miss you. I have your picture in my room, so I know what you look like, and Wellesley. I’m starting school soon; a small magic school with kids like me and I’m really excited. Dad’s doing well. He was sad for a while but he’s happier now and he talks about you more with (Y/N) who I like too. I want to come back, and I think Dad will let me, so I’ll see you soon, Mum.”

And with that, Scorpius walks away, happy to have finally met the mother had wanted to meet for so long.

Draco watches his son potter back to the still creaky gate in awe. You join his side; fingers tangling in his. “How are you feeling?” You ask, watching Draco’s face.

“Happy and in love,” is Draco’s reply.

*****

Muggle songs:

Johnny Ace - Pledging My Love

Paul Anka - Put Your Head On My Shoulder

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife​ @levylovegood​ @mytreec​ @haphazardhufflepuff​ @teheharrypotter​ @chaoticgirl04​

Draco Malfoy taglist @the--queen-of-hell @obxmxybxnk @obx-beach @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey

[winterscaptain]

take the day.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: a treat for the grown-ups in the room! this was inspired by an ask from many moons ago, and a couple of ideas submitted in the form. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think (and practice safe sex)! this fic contains explicit content and is 18+. minors do not interact or prepare to be blocked! also some tags aren’t working - please double check your urls below!

words: 2.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, [consentual & monogamous] unprotected sex, creampie, counter sex, floor sex, oral [reader receiving], very light soft dom!aaron),language, food mention

summary: “if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex, break up.” - my sister-in-law. au!november 2021.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Take the day. Nothing’s going on here and we don’t have any cases for once.” 

You tuck the phone under your chin as you pack the last of the kids’ lunches. “Really?”

Emily’s smile is audible through the phone. “Really. It’s Friday, and isn’t Hotch out today?” 

“Yeah, but mostly just to avoid the meetings with -” 

Just then, Jack rockets down the stairs, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and grabs his lunch off the counter. With a kiss to your cheek, he jets out the door with a quick, “Bye, Mom!” 

You blink rapidly, kind of taken aback by the abrupt nature of his departure. He can drive himself to school now, but he doesn’t always take advantage of it. 

“Sorry, Em. Jack just left for school like a damn tornado and I gotta get Isaac out of bed.”

She laughs. “No worries. Swing by my office when you drop the girls at preschool. I’ve got a couple of things for Aaron.” 

+++

When you return, the house is eerily quiet. 

You toe off your shoes and round the corner to the office with an armful of files in your hand. 

Unceremoniously, you drop them on his desk. “These are from Emily.” 

He huffs a laugh through his nose without looking up. “Thanks.” 

With a sly little smile, you leave him to his work. 

Padding across the hall to the master bedroom, you light the fireplace and replace your winter clothes with one of his dress shirts, two buttons holding it closed over the middle of your abdomen, and a pair of fuzzy socks. 

You’re grateful for the central heating in the house. You’d never be able to pull this off without it. 

After you sneak into the kitchen for a glass of water (you know - the ruse of usefulness), you return to him and place the water next to his left hand. He hardly looks up but mutters his thanks under his breath. 

You take your time leaving the office, just reaching the door when you hear, “Wait, hey. Whoa. Back up.” 

You don’t follow instructions, walking out of his office and into the kitchen, making play at putting lunch together. 

A pair of familiar hands slide up your thighs and underneath the shirt.

“Is this mine?” 

You hum in the affirmative. “Thought you’d like it. It looks good on you so I figured it would look alright on me.” 

“Uh huh. Yeah, well, if those were the rules I’d have to hand over my entire wardrobe.” Aaron spins you and presses you back into the island, your back arching as he crowds closer to you, his mouth hovering over your neck. “You look better in my clothes than I do.” 

You hum again, but your brain is too fuzzy to come up with a retort. He laves kisses over your neck, dropping to your collarbone and brushing his shirt off your shoulder. You decide in that moment to let go, relaxing back into the counter and giving him implicit permission to have his way with you. 

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling you sink back. 

You nod, bringing your hand to his hair and pulling him to your lips. “Yeah.” 

With a dark laugh, he turns you around again and snags your hands, pressing them to the cold granite countertop. You’re stretched taut, your legs already shaking with anticipation. 

His hands slide up your arms and over your back, the starched fabric of his dress shirt a delicious texture over your skin. He reaches your hips, his hands wandering under the hem of his shirt and hooking his fingers in the fabric of your underwear, practically tearing them over your ass and down your legs. You step out of them and he nudges them out of the way. 

He kicks your feet apart at the ankles, spreading your legs and forcing your back into a gentle arch. 

A perk of law enforcement training - some moves translate well in the bedroom. 

Or the kitchen. 

You hear him unbutton his jeans and free himself, not even pretending the last half-hour hasn’t been its own kind of foreplay. An empty house is practically an open invitation at this point. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds, pressing against your clit with every pass. You drop your forehead to the countertop with a whine, letting the cool temperature soothe your heated skin. 

Aaron doesn’t quit rutting against your wetness, only just teasing your entrance before sliding up to your clit again. From experience, you know he could theoretically do this for hours, waiting for you to get desperate, squirmy, and whiney.

It’s working. You wiggle back against him, but his hands cover yours with a smack as he shushes you, his hips pressing yours flush against the edge of the counter. You’re sure the granite against you would hurt if it wasn’t so hot. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, low and soft in your ear. 

You swallow as his lips wander over your neck and shoulder. “I want you.” 

He hums in understanding, sucking bruises along the line of your shoulder blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Your answer is breathless, and you shove your fingers between his from underneath, holding on as best you can. 

“Do you know how good you look in my shirt and nothing else?”

You nod. 

“Do you know what it does to me when you look like that? My wife in my clothes?”

You don’t answer, knowing it’ll only pay off for you. He lets go of your hands and grips your hips, yanking you back toward him. It’s only an inch or so, but you can feel his cock pressed against you, the cold metal buttons against your ass, the coarse feeling of his jeans against the skin of your thighs. 

“Do you want me to show you what it does to me? What you do to me?” 

You swallow and nod, pressing your chest into the counter, bracing yourself. “Yes.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, plenty slick with your arousal - you’re practically dripping, soaking your thighs and the apex of your legs. 

Aaron slams into your heat, all the way to your cervix, with a searing kiss pressed to the middle of your back to smother his groan. You cry out from deep in your chest, drawing it out as he pulls back, dragging against your walls before filling you again, his hips audibly making contact with your ass. 

It’s rare you get a chance like this. Even at night, with the kids’ rooms upstairs, you have to be relatively quiet. Aaron, when he really lets go, can get loud, and so can you, with his encouragement. So, needless to say, your opportunities are few and far between. 

A steady stream of curses leave him through gritted teeth, watching his own hands pull you onto and push you off of his cock, bottoming out every time. 

You’re not even sure what noises you’re making, but there are a lot of them. You unstick your palms from the granite, reaching around to press your fingertips into the part of Aaron’s hip you can find. 

He leaves you then, falling out of your reach as he pulls out and turns you around again. 

Suddenly, you’re over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

How does he do that?

The smell of his body wash from his morning shower lingers in the air as he brings you into the bedroom, dropping to his knees on the soft rug in front of the lit fireplace. 

He supports your shoulders as he tips you backwards, sealing your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands are in his hair, more for the feeling of it than for support. 

The plush rug is warm from the fire, a stark contrast to the cool kitchen island. His weight on top of you seems to sink right into your bones, a feeling of safety and love soaking into your skin. 

Much to your chagrin, he’s still fully clothed, his pants loose around his hips and his shirt hiked up to his ribs. You find the hem and separate yourself from his mouth only long enough to yank it over his head and throw it toward the bed. 

He laughs into his next kisses, but it turns into a sigh as your hands run over his sides, pressing firmly into his waist, before dragging up his back and back into his hair. 

“Are you gonna let me go?” He asks against your mouth. 

You shake your head. “Don’t wanna.” 

He laughs, tipping your head back and peppering kisses to your jaw and neck. “Fine.” 

His kisses meander down, nosing a path past the collar and buttons of his shirt on his way to your chest. He pauses at your breasts, drawing patterns with his tongue until you’re taut and puckered under his touch. 

His hands follow his mouth, unbuttoning the two buttons you’d done up to play at modesty, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches your hips and scoops your legs onto his shoulders, kissing a path down the creases of your thighs. 

When he finally wraps his lips around your clit, your hips buck into him. He laughs, sending a buzz up your spine, and locks your hips in his hands, holding you securely to his mouth. 

You resist the urge to bring your hand to your face, letting your whimpers and groans leave you at full volume. One hand finds a home in his hair while the other claws at the carpet. He could probably eat you out in his sleep at this point, what with the way he knows the pace, the pattern, the pressure you like. He’s consistent but never boring, always managing to lull you into a dull hum of pleasure, your legs shaking under his hands, before pulling something that makes you jump and whine. 

His warm breath fans across your lower belly, keeping him centered as he flicks his tongue against your clit, dipping lower to your entrance, sliding back. He sucks your inner lips into his mouth, letting them go with obscene, wet pop before pulling your clit back into his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved. 

You clench around nothing, desperate for him to fill you with anything, anything to ease the want that courses through you. There might be a moment when you ask for something, but you’re not entirely sure. 

He chuckles, a dark and smug sound, but only continues until your center starts to throb, shocking your body with pleasure all the way to your fingertips. Aaron can feel it too, running his hand up your abdomen, reminding you to relax. 

You take the note, slowing your breath and relaxing into the floor. Your grip in Aaron’s hair doesn’t budge, tight and close to the root. 

He’s determined to get you off with his mouth alone, his fingers digging deeper into your hips to keep himself on track. 

The pulse of your walls continues until the tension crawls into the rest of your body. Your shoulders pull away from the rug as your body curls forward, your hips stuttering even under Aaron’s firm grip. Both of your hands wind into his hair and you fall over the edge, chanting his name. 

Your upper body twists, your cheek against the plush carpet as you convulse under his continuing ministrations. Your hips are still locked to the floor under his hands, braced by his shoulders and held by his mouth. You can feel his smile as he rides it out with you, backing off on the pressure as pleasure rolls through you in violent, overwhelming waves. 

Your jaw seems to be stuck open, your eyes wide as you stare into nothing. Aaron slows, the strokes of his tongue long and drawn-out against the length of your sex, before stopping entirely, pressing a kiss right above your clit. 

He crawls up your body, keeping some of his weight on you as he finds your lips again. You’re still boneless, catching your breath, shaking, and experiencing little shockwaves that irregularly catch your abs.

With that in mind, you can hardly kiss him back - instead, passively letting him smother you in affection, vaguely processing the fact you can taste yourself on his tongue. You wrap your ankles around his lower back, and he finally sheds his jeans and boxer briefs. 

“You good?” He asks. 

You nod. “Mhmm.” You reach between your bodies and stroke him a couple of times. “Gimme.” 

He laughs out loud then, kissing you soundly as he slides home. 

You whimper into his mouth, your overheated flesh alive with sensation as he rocks into you, nearly frictionless. He holds you tight, his hand splayed across your shoulders underneath the shirt you’re still (somehow) wearing. 

You let your mind wander a little, combing through Aaron’s hair with your fingers and tucking your face into his neck. 

It’s been ten years with him, almost exactly. You’re a far cry from the person you were then, and you think maybe Aaron is a different man, too. 

Not where it counts though. He’ll always be that chronically-stressed, endlessly-dedicated tightass who thinks too much and speaks too little. If anyone asked, he’s still the smartest, warmest man you know. Privately, you know he’s also the dumbest invulnerable moron who ever drew breath. 

That makes you laugh, and you wrap your arms further around him. He doesn’t stop, but cranes his neck to look at you. 

“What?”

You shake your head, bringing your hands to the sides of his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just thinking about you.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, his head tilting sardonically to the side as he snaps his hips to yours, making you jump and clench around him. “I’d hope so.”

Flipping onto his back, he pulls you on top of him and has the audacity to wink at you. 

The pair of you giggle and laugh your way to your destination. His laughing smothers his curses as he cums, fucking up into you and holding you flush to him by the hips. You follow him by scant seconds, bracing yourself on his chest as you drag out your orgasm, enjoying the rush and the laughter and just being together. 

When you both completely run out of steam, you lift yourself off of him and tip sideways, landing flat on your back out on the rug. 

This poor thing has seen more use today than in its entire lifetime. 

You roll over after a second, propping your head on your elbow. Aaron mirrors you, meeting your eyes. 

“That was fun,” he says. 

You nod, bringing your hand to the graying hair at his temple. “Don’t get too many chances for this kind of fun anymore, huh?”

He sighs and pulls your hand from his hair, kissing your palm and folding your hand in his. “No, we don’t, but it’s…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s nice to appreciate it more than we used to.”

“Yeah.”

+++

You twist back and forth on the barstool, watching Aaron slice an apple and some strawberries. You both did away with the lunch idea, deciding it was too much work to put something together. 

It feels awfully like your first weekend together, the only differences are in the scenery. Even the wardrobe is similar. You’re in the shirt he started in, not much else, and he’s in his jeans, shirtless and barefoot. 

It’s nice to see him wandering around with a kind of carelessness. You’re not sure any of the little ones have seen him without a shirt, not for any real length of time that they would remember. He told you once that he doesn’t want to scare them. 

You reminded him that this is their normal, too. They’ve never known him without the scars so they’ll always know him with them. The little ones don’t know to be scared. 

Still, he’s careful. 

It’s a work in progress. 

“What were you thinking about before?” He asks, rounding the island. He goes to lean on it, but hesitates. “We have to wipe down the counter.”

You snort and take the plate from him, headed for the living room. “It’s been ten years and you’ve never changed.”

He rolls his eyes and follows you, sitting down in his chair so you can sit in his lap, the plate of fruit on the coffee table. “Is predictable so bad?”

“No,” you reply, your eyebrows raised. “I was just answering your question.”

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “You haven’t changed, either, for the record.”

“Is that a good thing?”

With a smile, he pulls you gently by the side of the head, tucking you under his chin. “It’s a very good thing.” Then, almost inaudibly -

“A great thing.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @angelsbabey @venusbarnes @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchslatte @avengersbau @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @reidtomestyles @crazyshannonigans @iconicc @deagibs @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bwbatta @lotties-journey-abroad @ssahotchnerr @unicorn-bitch @capricorngf @zizzlekwum @cevanswhre @this-broken-band-girl @word-scribbless @averyhotchner @reidingmelodies @shesbiochem4 @violet-amxthyst @kelstark@mandylove1000 @sunshine-em @starsandasteroids @roses-and-grasses @ssworldofsw @sunflowersandotherthings @little-blue-fishie @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream  @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[twjournals]

Can you do a Theo imagine where the reader catches him masturbating while thinking about her and then they get a little crazy 😜 😂

warning: swearing, choking, oral, unprotected sex 

word count: 1,781

It had been a long day at work. After school would let out, you spent your night helping Dr. Deaton at the vet clinic. You were not a pro at your job, but you were getting better with the help of Deaton and Scott. You had such a big heart for animals and an even bigger one for the ones in pain. You wanted to do anything you could to help them out of their pain. Your job was so rewarding, but the hardest part of your job was the losses. Deaton had already gone home for the night and you were in charge of closing the clinic for him. There were not many people Deaton trusted so while you and Scott were in school, he spent his mornings working alone but he liked it that way.

You took the last few moments of closing to wrap up your night refilling all the water bowls of all the animals. You gave a few head scratches before you grabbed your things from behind the counter to lock up for the night. Sometimes you wondered how you managed to do everything. Between keeping your grades up, keeping your job at the clinic, and even maintaining your relationship with Theo. Some days you felt day as if you were leaving Theo on the back burner, but he understood more than anyone else that your schooling and your job always came first.

You had already messaged Theo not to wait on you considering you were closing the clinic up tonight so there was no sure time that you would be done. He was probably asleep by now considering you had not got a reply from him. The car ride home was such a drag. You longed for a hot shower and to crawl into bed with your boyfriend. His strong arms would always find their way around your body and pull your body against mine when he would feel you snuggling close for warmth underneath the blankets. 

You hurried inside once you got home and quietly shut the door behind you before locking it. The house was dark and quiet. Everyone had already gone to bed, but that was no surprise. You peeled your jacket off at the door and removed your shoes while you set your things down. 

You started up the stairs to your bedroom. From your view on the stairs, you could not see any light coming from your bedroom, so you were sure he was already asleep. You tried to be as quiet as possible to keep from waking him. You needed some clothes to change into after your shower. You reached for the door to your bedroom, instantly freezing just as your fingertips brushed the doorknob. A quiet familiar groan filled your room. It was Theo’s. Maybe he knew you were home and was just getting up to greet you. You did not hear any footsteps though.

You pushed the door open just a little to see if he might have been awake. Your cheeks blushed a deep shade of red once your eyes adjusted to the dark. The only light in the room was the light from the moon shining through your window on him. His large hand took its time stroking up and down his hardened length. You couldn’t pull your eyes away from the sight of him. You did not know whether to move from your spot to help or to watch from your spot at the door. You could feel it getting warmer between your legs and you pressed your legs together as if that would fix the problem. Of course it did not. It never did.

Aside from the sweat glistening on his forehead and along with his abs, you could tell by his heavy breathing that he had been doing this for a moment. “Y/N…” He moaned your name. You could not help but feel responsible for his problem. You could not pull your eyes away from his cock. His thumb stroked over the tip to smear the precum. You craved to clean it up, to taste him. This was all your fault, and you knew it. If you had not been so wrapped up with everything else going on, he would not have felt the need to fix himself before you got home. Theo was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had not noticed you watching him at the door. His head rolled back in pleasure against the pillow as the speed of his strokes quickened. His eyes had been closed while his mind was clouded with lust, thinking about all of the things he knew you were capable of doing.

Your panties were soaked already. That alone was enough to get your feet working. You quietly moved over to him on the bed and placed your hand over his, making him jump. “Y/N-” He knew he could not even attempt to lie about what he was doing. He knew he was busted. You quieted them though. You did not say a word, only pushing his hand off his cock to fix the problem yourself. Your hand wrapped around his length as you moved onto the bed between his legs. His eyes stayed glued to you. He was at a loss for words. Was this really happening? Or was this all in head? You gripped his cock, feeling it throbbing under your touch and you smiled. Your smaller hand worked up and down his hardened shaft as you moved your hair back from your face to kitten lick the tip. It was even close to fixing your craving. You needed more. 

Your mouth wrapped the tip of his cock, sucking teasingly on the tip as your big eyes peered up his bare chest at him. It always drove him crazy when you would hold eye contact with him while sucking him off. You took more of his cock in your mouth, tracing your warm tongue against the vein along the side of his shaft. 

“What were you thinking about?” A smirk formed on your lips as you stared up at him for an answer. He stumbled over his thoughts trying to find his voice. “You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about me, now would you?” He twitched inside of your mouth and his hand fell to your hair, tangling his fingers in your hair and gripping it tight to help guide your mouth. He nodded his head quickly in response. After all the times he dominated you, edged you, tortured you, had you weak at his mercy, it was nice to see him so obedient to you. Your head bobbed up and down until the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. Your muffled moans vibrating up his length as you sucked. 

“Y/N…” His head rolled back. There was no telling how long he had waited for this.

Your eyes stared up at him as you pulled his cock from the back of your throat. A string of saliva connected from your mouth to his cock. You smiled, wiping the spit away and using it as lubrication to stroke his cock. “Use your words.” You used his own words against him. You knew he was sure to break. 

His grip on your hair tightened, pulling you by your hair on the floor. “On your knees.” He demanded.

You could not help but giggle. This was what you wanted, and he knew that. You obeyed, getting on your knees in front of him as he stood beside the bed. He grabbed a hold of his pulsing length, slapping it against your cheek. “You think you can use my own words against me?”

“I did.” You smiled, proud of what you did.

He shook his head. “Open.” His large had gripped your chin as you opened your mouth for him “Let’s put that pretty mouth to better use.” Theo pushed his cock inside of your warm mouth until the tip hit the back of your throat. You knew you were in for it. His hips thrust against your mouth, pushing his cock in and out of your mouth as he pleased. Your hands tried to push against his thighs, but he grabbed them to pin them behind your back. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You whimpered around his cock as he fucked your mouth open. Your face was read from lack of oxygen. He finally pulled his cock from your mouth, watching the spit dripping down your chin and you stared up at him with watery eyes. His favorite thing in the world was to make you a mess. When he was done using you mouth however he pleased, he pulled you to your feet before bending you over the bed as he had envisioned in his head. You wanted to know what he was thinking about? He was going to show you.

His hands painted your asscheeks in his handprints while you tried to muffle your moans in the sheets, but Theo would not dare let you be quiet. You deserved to be rewarded after working so hard. You deserved to cum over and over again. He dragged the tip of his cock through your slit, admiring as the tip lathered itself in your juices. You would be lying if you said you were not wet. Who were you kidding? You were soaking wet, so soaked your juices were smeared down your thighs. Theo loved that he had this effect on you.

“Theo, don’t tease…”

His large hand found its way to your neck and gripped on it, making you gasp. “Or what?” He proceeded to drag his cock through your drenched slit to your clit and hitting the tip teasingly against it. You only let out a whimper in response as your hips wiggled. “That’s what I thought.”

His hips pushed into yours, feeling his cock pushing inside of you until you were full of him. A pleasure-filled sigh fell from his lips as a moan escaped yours. Theo did not waste any time with you. He had missed you so much. Your lips, your touch, everything about you. Even though he understood, he still craved moments like this with you. A part of him did not want to make you any more tired than you would already come home being, but another part of him did. You tightened around his cock with every thrust. You were in pure bliss. This is what you both needed. Even though it did not take much of you to get him off, you both knew this would be all night. Even after this, he still would not be done with you.

[lunarastrobabe]

Joel Miller x F!Reader: Sleepless Night

(Fluff/Angst) (Age Difference)  (Warning: Details of smut included) 

- 

Joel sat down on one of the chairs on his porch, clutching his guitar in one hand, and coffee in the other in his well-known owl mug. Letting out a heavy sigh, with tired eyes and set the guitar by his feet, taking a sip from his drink. He had struggled sleeping the past few nights due to the last patrol he had went on with [Y/N]. The memory of her getting jumped by runners and her cries for help traumatised him. Thanks to him, he saved her life. It wasn’t the first time he had saved her or risked his life to keep her safe, he was determined to protect her. Since that day, he’s been avoiding her. He had never spoken to her openly about his past, and he knows if these feelings keep growing, he would regret not talking sooner. 

He remembered when she had arrived at Jackson a year and a half ago, being only 25 and having no family, she found it hard adjusting to new people, new faces. After a few months, she settled right in, getting to know Ellie and Dina and helping out on patrols with them every now and then, and having a brotherly-sisterly bond with Tommy. He took her in to his house, she didn’t know anybody and Joel was the first person she had met, feeling he was trustworthy. 

Staring at the dark liquid he swirled it around in circles not noticing you had went looking for him, she stood in the doorway of the front door, her hand on the doorframe. 

“Joel?” Her quiet tone was like music to his ears. Jackson was peaceful, most of the area was asleep, snow covered the ground like a blanket. He jumped a little at her presence, but relaxed realising it who it was. 

“Evenin’.” He says, setting his almost empty mug of coffee on the small wooden table, which was now cold from the length of time he was lost in his thoughts. His voice was rough, feeling exhausted from the lack of rest. 

“Can’t sleep?” She asked, closing the door behind her, keeping quiet as possible not to wake up the nearby neighbours and took a seat beside him. He shook his head at the question. “No.” 

She pulled her jacket closer around her body and crossed her leg over the other. Joel shifted in his seat a little, clearing his throat. She looked over at him, watching the wind go through his soft, silver hair. His heart skipped a beat, feeling her eyes scanning him, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. 

“I never said this before but,” She started, moving her hair from her face. “Thank you, for saving my ass again.” He turned his head, looking over at her, he had missed that smile, he had missed her laughter when they would patrol and she’d throw snowballs at him. Seeing her around Jackson, having that friendship with Ellie and Dina, offering to take dangerous patrol areas to keep the town safe. Risking her life multiple times to save others. The sound of her name or the sound of his name being spoken by her, feeling a sense of new-found love and happiness, something he missed experiencing a long time ago. 

“S’alright darlin’.” He gave her a half smile, his hazel eyes filled with fear, and pain, he masked it well and she noticed. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, the way her eyelashes fluttered, or when her nose would scrunch up when it was cold, or when they would sit by the fireplace while he strummed his guitar. 

“Um, Joel?” She looked at her lap and fiddled with her fingers. He sat up in his chair, his hands resting on his thighs. “Is everything okay? I haven’t .. seen you, for a while.” Her words had a nervous feeling to it. He exhaled heavily. He had to tell her what was going on in his mind, the thought of her blaming herself for his avoidance was already worrying him. He was the only one she trusted with anything, especially from the start. Every night, if she needed his comfort, his in particular, he would be there for her, he’d make coffee for her and sit with her and let her vent to him about anything that bothered her. He never wants her to feel alone, and during that time of knowing her, he fell in love, and he knew he was, he kept it inside, fear of losing her, like he had lost Sarah and Tess. 

“Let’s go inside and talk this out.” He stood up, taking his guitar gently in his hand and the empty mug, guiding her back in the house. The heat from the lit fireplace warmed up the room. Kicking off his shoes, he set the guitar next to the couch, and went to the kitchen to make the coffee, keeping up the tradition. She sat on the couch and patiently waited for him to return, admiring the large bookcases. Sounds of spoons clinking together and the shuffling of his feet across the floor made her smile. 

Joel returned, holding two mugs of hot coffee and placing them on coasters on the small coffee table. Her eyes watched his every move, thanking him for the drink, smiling to herself, he remembered to put some cinnamon in her drink, that being her favourite. The curtains were shut and there was silence between the both of them, the fire was the only sound in the room. She sat cross-legged and turned her body to face his, holding the mug in her hands tightly warming up her cold fingertips, waiting for him to explain.

He sat there for a while, figuring out how to explain his behaviour to her, the guilt inside of him eating him away. A sad expression washed across his face. She frowned and looked down at her drink. 

He set his mug on the coaster again, letting out a sigh and looking over at her. He felt her eyes burning into him, as if they were looking into his soul. “That day, when the infected attacked you,” He always found it hard expressing his true feelings when it came to people he cared deeply about, afraid that more loss and more pain would return. She listened to him, she really listened, understanding every word he was saying. “watching you struggle and cry, it-, it terrified me. Terrified of what would happen if, I hadn’t stopped it.” A glistened look covered his eyes, he kept his composure, trying to stop himself from breaking down. 

She set her mug beside his, taking in what he had just told her. As he continued, “I’ve had, a great deal of loss, fighting to survive all these years, but, also fighting to protect you,” He rubbed his bearded chin with his hand. “I don’t want those things, out there, to turn you into one of them.” He pointed to the window, gesturing to outside. His thick Texan accent growing deeper, the difficulty expressing this made his stomach flutter. 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling touched by his words and realising, she meant more to him than he let on. She was patient with him, knowing he was closed off, always kept to himself, no matter the situation. He was more worried about the feelings and well-being of others than his own. 

“But, why me?” She asked softly, he knew she appreciated everything he’s done and still doing for her and for her safety. Her actions of being there for him when he needed her was enough proof. Actions speak louder than words. His brows furrowed at her question. Keeping her eyes down, away from looking into his eyes. 

“You go through near-death experiences when it’s us together, you’ve slain multiple clickers and bloaters, you’re so hell-bent on keeping me as close as possible to you. There are other people who need more protection than I do.” She felt guilty for causing him to put himself through horrible situations, feeling like she was forcing him to look after her. “I just, feel like a burden.” She bit her lip, worried at his response. 

“Look at me,” He whispered in a raspy tone. When she refused to look into his eyes, he spoke once again. “Darlin’.” That little pet name was a little secret that only they knew about. He reached over, tucking hair behind her ear and turning her face to look at him, a hand resting on her cheek. His large, warm, rough hands felt like a security blanket to her. All the anxiety and stress he felt, washed away when his skin came into contact with hers. 

“You ain’t ever been a burden.” His eyes stared into hers, all he ever wanted to do was love her, make her feel special. His body shifted position. She had no trouble opening up to him in the past, he knew her like the back of his hand, he knew about her family, her childhood, the trauma she experienced, he felt deeply connected with her, they both had experienced loss. 

There have been times where he’s had thoughts of making love to her, just to hold her close to his body, being as gentle as possible. The dream of pushing her against the wall, both their hands hungrily grabbing at each others clothes to tear them away. Her pushing him closer to press his hard-on against her core, to feel how much he wanted her. Grabbing at her thighs as she’d grind herself against him, her soaked panties staining his jeans. Curiosity being a main factor, wishing to know what she tasted like and what he tasted like between the sheets. To graze his lips across her skin, to feel her body tense up underneath him when hitting her high, her nails digging into his skin as he pushed in and out of her. He longed to hear her soft moans, her calling his name as he made her his own, tangling fingers through her hair. He never wanted to let her go. She had never laid with a man before, as she had told him subtly in the past. She had been having those thoughts and feelings towards him just as much as he did. Her having no experience with sex in general speak, in her mind, she knew exactly what she would do. 

He took her face in his hands, rubbing her cheek with his thumb, he didn’t like feeling vulnerable, but it was overpowering, he wanted to kiss her, right there, right now. She slowly moved her position and kneeled in front of him, his hands sticking to her like glue. She moved little bit closer. 

“You promise?” She whispered, his skin covered in goosebumps, feeling the closeness of their faces just inches apart. Her lips hovering over his. 

“Yes.” He replied. She was now in a crawling position, her hands finding their way into his lap then moving them to his grey t-shirt, running her hands up his chest and finally resting them on his shoulders. His breath was shaky, waiting for it to finally happen. 

And there it was, his lips brushed against hers, his facial hair tickling her mouth. It was slow and innocent at first, his body tensed but relaxed, both getting used to what was happening in the moment. He pulled back for a moment, feeling a little embarrassed at the sudden urge. His eyes flickered from her eyes to her lips. Licking his own, wanting to taste her fully, she wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her body weight on his chest, his arms snaked their way around her waist, holding her tight, worried if he let go, she would disappear. She let out a slight giggle, leaving him with a comforted feeling that she wasn’t rejecting him. 

“Kiss me again, cowboy.” The use of the word ‘cowboy’ surged through his veins, kissing her once again, his tongue diving in taking dominance. His grunts and her moans against the kiss was too much to bare. Feeling beads of sweat on his forehead and her heavy panting, he pulled back and looked once again in her eyes. 

“Take me.” She ran her fingers across his lips, his mouth curving at the side with a smile. 

“You sure?” His fingers ran up and down her sides. 

“Show me what you’ve got.” Replying as she kissed the corner of his mouth. 

That burning feeling of lust, desire and attraction possessed them. Feeling a sense of love in his heart, he felt whole. 

[science-hoes]

Warming Up - Jimmy Woo x Reader Smut

Jimmy Woo x Reader Smut (18+ only)

Words: 2k+

A/N: I have done it. I wrote the first (based on my searches) Jimmy Woo smut for tumblr. I love this man so much. He needs to be appreciated. Anyway, this is a really cheesy scenario but I neeeed the *spicy* content. I’ll probably write more Jimmy Woo x Reader because this man has taken over my life. Also this was my celebration post for 1k followers 🥳

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected sex, cheesy scenario, language

You had been in cold weather before, but it had never been this cold. Fuck. It was painful to walk back to the resting quarters as the slight breeze chilled your bones. Monitoring the town of Westview was stressful, but oh how you envied the seemingly perfect weather that Wanda was generating. And as if on cue, it started to rain. It wasn’t cold enough to form sleet, but it sure was cold enough to quicken your pace. Maybe Wanda could control the weather out here too, to piss off everyone who was surveilling her.

Your walk to the resting quarters was much longer than you would have liked it to be. By the time you reached the temporary building, your body was soaked from head to toe. You entered the resting quarters with your teeth chattering and arms folded across your chest. Just as you were about to enter your section, you bumped into a sturdy figure that grabbed onto you to stop you from falling backwards.

“Hey, Y/N.” Your coworker, Agent Jimmy Woo, greeted. He awkwardly let go of you once he realized he was still cradling your body against his to stop you from stumbling backwards.

You looked up to him, your hair plastered to your forehead from the rain. “Hey.” Was all you managed to say in between shivers.

Jimmy tilted his head slightly. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. Looks like you weren’t cut out for the cold weather.” He noted, but still flashing his charming smile.

You smiled in return, damn his smile was contagious. “I g-guess not.” Your teeth shattered involuntarily.

Jimmy looked up and down the hallway to check for other agents. “You don’t look so well, Y/N. Why don’t you come on to my room and I’ll get you all warmed up.” He said.

You raised an eyebrow, assuming his offer was meant to be suggestive. “You’ll get me warmed up?” You repeated.

Jimmy’s eyes widened and he began shaking his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just- I have hot chocolate in my room.” He rambled.

You smiled and nodded. “Oh, okay.” You said.

Jimmy began to walk down the hall. “It’s this way.” He said, making sure you were okay to walk.

You followed him to the end of the hallway until he scanned his badge at the final door on the left. The door slid open, and you slipped inside his room after him.

Jimmy walked over to his kitchenette and began pulling ingredients from a cabinet. You sat down on one of the chairs in his room, shivering still. Your clothes were still ice cold even with the warm heat blasting from the air vent. You tried to reach for a blanket that was on the chair opposite to you, but as you did, you lost your coordination and fell to the floor with a painful thud.

“I’m sorry.” You immediately said as you tried to lift yourself from the ground.

But before you could open your eyes, Jimmy was already by your side, gently lifting you into his surprisingly strong arms. “Y/N, you’re not okay.” He said worriedly before placing you on his standard twin sized bed.

“I’m fine, I’m just a little cold.” You tried to play off.

Jimmy began to remove your wet jacket from your body before working at your soaked shoes and socks. “You have to get out of these clothes.” He explained.

Your eyes widened slightly as his hands brushed against your hips and slipped under your shirt. “Trust me, I was a Boy Scout. You’ve got mild hypothermia, but it can turn really bad really quick.” He said, but looked to you for permission to keep going.

You nodded, and he pulled your shirt off. You helped carefully lower your pants down, leaving you only in a bra and panties. You could tell, even in the dim light, that he was blushing heavily. “I-I’ll let you do the rest.” He said.

You slipped under the covers before discarding your undergarments onto the floor as well. Jimmy grabbed the blanket you attempted to reach earlier and placed it on top of the covers. You were still trembling pitifully, and it hurt Jimmy to see you like that.

“I’m still s-so cold.” You whimpered.

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably on his feet for a moment before pulling off his FBI jacket. “You need body heat. I can’t give you anything too warm yet or it’ll hurt you.” He explained.

You watched as he looked away from you as he slid under the covers to press against your body. He wrapped his muscular arms around you, pulling your head to his chest. Immediately, your hands found his arms. The sensation of your frigid skin against his was too strong. You needed more of it. You quickly untucked his buttoned up shirt and snaked your hands under to find more exposed skin. Your arms burned as they began to increase in temperature again.

At first Jimmy sucked his abdomen in, trying to hide from your freezing touch, but he soon responded by wrapping his legs around yours. “Geez, Y/N, you’re really cold.” He hissed.

You rolled your eyes, “Yeah, I think we est-t-tablished that.” You chattered.

Jimmy let go of you for a moment, and you made a small whimper that broke his heart. “No, no, I was just gonna take off my shirt. It’ll give you more heat.” He explained.

And hell you weren’t gonna argue with that. He broke the knot in his tie and slid it off his neck before making quick work of his shirt buttons. It only took a short second for him to toss his shirt aside, giving you a quick glimpse of his toned upper body. Goddamn, you wouldn’t have guessed he was so cut from that bulky jacket he always wears. He wrapped his arms around your frail body again, this time defrosting your skin. But you let out an unholy moan as your breasts brushed against the coarse hair dusted on his chest.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sound, but connected the dots as to what happened. “I-I’m sorry.” He stammered, not knowing how to respond.

You huffed a laugh and shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. T-that was out of line for me.” You responded, the embarrassment helping your face heat up.

Jimmy shook his head. “No, it was fine. I mean, it wasn’t a bad thing, it was good. But not in like a creepy way, like a…a normal human response w-“ He rambled.

You cut him off by pressing a chilly kiss against his soft lips. He didn’t move at first, afraid of what to do next. After a rush of confidence, he ran his hand up your neck, anchoring his fingers in your hair, and deepened the kiss. You shifted, pulling him on top of you. But as you did, his chest rubbed against yours again, and you let out another involuntary moan into his mouth. This time Jimmy chuckled and kissed his way down your neck.

“Is this okay?” He asked. “I shouldn’t be taking advantage of a hypothermic person.”

You giggled and shook your head. “No, this is only helping. Trust me.” You responded, feeling heat spreading to all ends of your body.

And that was enough reassurance. Jimmy’s hands delicately traced the sides of your waist as he kissed down to your chest, stopping at particularly sensitive areas to gently suck the skin and leave a pink mark. His nose brushed against the valley between your breasts and placed a sweet kiss there before licking a path up to one of your nipples. He swirled his tongue in lazy circles, taking his time with you.

The sensation of his burning tongue slipping against your icy bud drew a whimper from your chest. Jimmy heard your fussing and reached one of his hands up to your other breast. His fingers twisted the nipple there while simultaneously gripping the other one with his teeth. You gripped the sheets on his bed, twisting them in frustration, and bucked your hips into his chest.

“Jimmy…” You moaned, wanting him to keep caressing your breasts but also keep moving down your body.

Jimmy hummed in response, looking up to you with those sweet brown eyes. “What do you want, baby doll?” He whispered against your skin.

You blushed at his old-fashioned nickname for you but tried to refocus your attention on your body’s demands. “I need you inside me.” You replied.

Jimmy gripped your hips tightly before searing a trail of kisses down your stomach. “Can I taste you first? I’ve wanted to do this so long.” He pleaded.

Your walls involuntarily clenched at his request. You nodded, “Please.” You granted.

Jimmy grabbed your thighs and tossed them over his broad shoulders. He didn’t waste any time teasing you or pressing kisses along the inside of your legs. He licked a long and deep stripe against your pussy, drawing a desperate scream from your throat. He moaned at the amount of slick that he swallowed down.

Without hesitation he delved his tongue into you, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. You secured your fingers in his black locks, tugging when his tongue snaked deeper into your pussy. He reached up with his thumb and rubbed circles on top of your sweet spot. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the fact that you had been dreaming of this moment for weeks, but you were quickly approaching your first orgasm of the night.

“J-jimmy, I’m gonna come.” You panted, tightening your thighs around his neck.

“Don’t hold back on me, baby doll.” He mumbled against your folds.

And that nickname pushed you over the edge. Your walls throbbed and waves of electricity shot through your body. Jimmy continued to lap up your juices as you rode out your orgasm on his tongue. You were suddenly very aware of your panting and placed a hand on your chest to feel your pounding heart. Jimmy kissed up your body again, worshipping every patch of skin he could get his lips on.

“Was that okay?” He asked innocently.

You huffed a laugh and met his lips with yours. You could taste yourself in his mouth. “That was…amazing.” You answered. “But I still need your dick inside me.”

Jimmy chuckled against your lips and guided your hands down his firm chest to the waistband of his khaki pants. You could feel his packed bulge against your hands as you whipped the belt from his waist and undid his pants. He kicked them off as you pulled his briefs down, his cock springing free. You took it in your hand, swirling the precum around the tip. Jimmy moaned deeply against your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

You adjusted your hips and swiped the tip of his cock through your folds. Jimmy grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to him.

“Are you ready?” He asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” You breathed.

Jimmy slowly pressed against your entrance. It probably wasn’t the best idea to start fucking without stretching you out, but that was a problem for tomorrow. You hissed as your walls began to stretch. After what seemed like an eternity, he bottomed out inside of you and you whimpered from the sting. Jimmy leaned down against your body again and pressed kisses against your flushed cheeks.

“Shh, sweetheart. It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispered.

His gentle words made you smile and you reached up to hold his face in your hands. He flashed that charming smile again, and you couldn’t help but kiss it off his face. “I can keep going.” You mumbled against his lips.

Without moving away from you, Jimmy slowly pulled out, leaving you empty. You were worried that he was going to just torture you before he slammed back into you with full force. You screamed into his mouth and dug your nails into his shoulders.

“Come on, baby doll, I know you can take it.” He whispered, catching your mouth with his.

He pounded his hips into yours at a brutally fast pace, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. You held onto him for dear life as his cock buried itself into you over and over again. You felt that same build up of heat in your pussy with each snap of your hips. You buried your face in his neck, moaning and panting.

“Jimmy…” You whimpered as your orgasm neared.

Jimmy felt your walls begin to tighten and he quickened his already brisk pace. “Come for me, sweetheart.” He encouraged.

After a few more thrusts, your body let go and your vision went black from the overwhelming sensation. Your pussy throbbed around his cock, but he didn’t let off. He wanted to make sure you came again before he would let himself go. And with your final scream, Jimmy let out a moan in tandem with yours as his cum spilled inside you. The pulsating of his cock was just enough stimulation to help you finish out your own orgasm.

Jimmy collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. For a moment, all you could hear were the staggering breaths heaving from your chests. After a minute of silence, Jimmy looked back up to you, sheepishly this time.

“Are you still cold?” He asked with a joking smile.

You giggled and kissed him gently. “If I say yes, can we do that again?” You teased.

Jimmy laughed and pressed his forehead against yours. “Baby doll, we can do this any time you want.”

A/N: Lmk if you want to be added to my Jimmy Woo x Reader taglist :)

[fantastic-bby]

Pairing: Reader x Jinyoung (ft Mark)

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: Fluff | Comedy | Best Friend!Jinyoung

Summary: After a massive break up, Jinyoung thinks that the medicine you need might just be revenge.

Prompt: “I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

Warnings: Mentions of cheating | Mild vandalism (?)

Masterlist

[23:51]

You should’ve known. The moment you saw your partner—now ex—gawking over the person you both saw at the gym was a dead giveaway and you hate yourself for not realising it sooner. Or maybe you hate yourself more for putting so much trust in him. There was always something that your ex did that made you doubt your entire relationship and it makes you wonder why you didn’t see all the red flags until you saw the two in his bed.

Your first thought was to rant about it to someone, but who were you supposed to tell? You can’t tell your siblings, they’d be on your ex’s ass in seconds. You also didn’t feel close enough with the friends you made at work, which left you alone and yearning for someone to comfort you. It was only when you heard the doorbell to your house ringing that you realised there was one person you could rely on—the person that you actually didn’t want to tell.

Your phone lights up beside you and you wipe your tears with the blanket in your lap to see the screen clearer.

Jinyoung: I know you’re home, loser [23:51]

You feel the tears building up in your eyes once again. Why did Jinyoung choose to come over now? Out of all days and all the time he had before, why did he choose to come when you felt like you were at your lowest?

Jinyoung: (Y/n)? I can see your living room lights Open the door I have pizza [23:54]

You see, Jinyoung was someone you met mutually through a friend at work—his name’s Mark—and you clicked pretty well with him. The only problem was that Jinyoung always seemed to catch you at the worst times, which made you feel bad because he always shows up whenever you’re having a breakdown or plotting some form of revenge on your coworker who decided to take your lunch from the pantry. Thunder claps and lightning flashes from outside the window to your bedroom and only then do you realise that it’s storming. Which means that Jinyoung’s standing at your doorstep in the pouring rain.

Jinyoung: I didn’t get soaking wet walking through the rain to your house just for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too [23:59]

You stare at his messages, debating whether you actually wanted him to see you like this. He doesn’t even know whether or not you’re crying.

Jinyoung: I know you’re sad Let me in [00:04]

Oh.

You force yourself out of bed and down the stairs of your home to open the front door. Jinyoung stands at your doorstep, water dripping from the strands of his wet hair and sliding down his face. In his hands are a large pizza box and a plastic bag filled with bottles of beer.

“How did you know?” you ask softly as you move aside to let him into your house. He rubs his feet against the plush carpet right in front of your door, trying to get his feet as dry as possible before making his way into your kitchen. Jinyoung’s hand gestures for you to sit on one of the barstools at your kitchen island while he pulls his wet coat off of his shoulders and balls it up before leaving it on your counter; making a mental note to clean that up later.

“I always do,” Jinyoung mutters as he opens the pizza box. He’s thankful that he somehow managed to keep the pizza dry or else he would’ve had to be faced with both your tears and rain pizza. You’re silent as he pushes the box towards you before pulling out two bottles of beer from the orange plastic bag that’s now perched on your countertop. You give him a weird look that makes him sigh, “Mark hyung told me.”

“And how did Mark figure it out? I didn’t tell anyone.” You pull one of the slices out of the box and take a bite out of it. It isn’t as hot as you’d prefer your pizza to be, but you can’t expect Jinyoung to have fresh-out-of-the-oven pizza when you left him standing outside in the rain for more than ten minutes.

“Mark hyung introduced you to the cock head. Of course he’d know,” he says as he pops open both bottles of beer, sliding on towards you. “What happened?”

“What do you want to know?” you look away from the slice and let your eyes meet Jinyoung’s. His face and body language never seemed to show that much emotion, but his brown eyes always held every single word that he wanted to say.

Jinyoung’s shoulders raise into a shrug, “whatever you want to tell me.” You hesitate with pizza in your mouth, chewing slowly before you sigh and tell him everything. Half a pizza and three beer bottles later, you feel relieved.

“And now I’m just sulking in my house,” you mutter when you finish your fourth slice of pizza. Jinyoung blinks a few times and his eyes drift away from you for a moment as he takes in the entire story.

“I have an idea,” he speaks up after a moment, his back straightening as the idea brews in his mind. “I’m not usually one who condones revenge because it’s petty and it wastes my time, but…” Jinyoung trails off when he sees you perking up.

“What’s your plan?” you quickly ask.

He smirks, “I’m thinking lots of toilet paper and lots of glitter.”

“Why am I here again?” Mark asks but Jinyoung quickly shushes him.

“We’re here to get back at (Y/n)’s ex.” The older man gives him a weird look but obliges anyway, hands grabbing at the envelopes filled with glitter and signed with different names and addresses to avoid suspicion. “Are you ready?” Jinyoung turns to you and you nod as you pull the hood of your jacket over your head to hide yourself.

“You do know that we could get arrested for vandalism, right?” he points out.

“That just fuels the adrenaline,” you hum with a smile when you turn back to him. The corners of Mark’s lips lift into a smile when he sees the mischief painted on your face. You’ve convinced him only because Mark’s a bit of an adrenaline junky and he’d do anything just to feel alive.

The three of you climb out of Jinyoung’s car and quickly make your way into the bushes of your ex’s garden, hiding under the cover of night with a bag full of toilet paper rolls. Mark tears himself away from you and Jinyoung to stuff the envelopes into the empty mailbox before regrouping. Each of you get a few rolls and the revenge plot begins. Call it childish, but you had never felt so much rush within you from throwing toilet rolls. You swing one of the rolls over the house, frowning when you see the way it bounces off of the wall and falls back into the garden.

“Watch this,” Jinyoung chuckles. You watch as he swings his arm with more strength and force, the roll flying straight over the roof and leaving a trail of toilet paper behind it that drapes over the top of the house.

“Show off,” Mark snorts as he throws a roll. Jinyoung scowls at that and throws the roll right at his head, earning a whine from your coworker. “Is that all of them?” he asks. You rummage through the now empty tote bags and nod just as the lights to one of the rooms turn on.

“Fuck, we have to go.” Jinyoung grabs onto your wrist and the three of you run out of the garden and straight into his car. The front door swings open and you hear distant yelling just as Jinyoung slams his foot on the accelerator, speeding out of the neighbourhood as fast as he can to stop your ex from seeing his license plate. Giggles and laughter erupt from the three of you once you’re out of the neighbourhood.

“Feel any better?” Mark laughs when he sees how bright you look as compared to the past two weeks and how dull and tired you’ve been.

“I feel fucking amazing,” you breathe out a laugh, turning to your side to look at Jinyoung who laughs from behind the wheel.

“I’ll be taking food as thanks,” he jokes.

“Oh, shut up,” you roll your eyes playfully, unable to stop the smile that feels permanently etched on your face. “I’m actually surprised that you, out of all people, thought of this.”

“That’s exactly what I said when he called me,” Mark chuckles.

“I don’t know,” Jinyoung shrugs with a content sigh. “Never really liked that guy anyway. I felt like you deserved better, so revenge was the first thing that came to mind when you told me.” You keep your eyes on him for a moment, basking in the adrenaline that courses through your veins. Mark cocks an eyebrow at the way the car slowly falls into silence.

“Thank you, Jinyoung,” you hum after a moment.

“Yes, thank you, Jinyoung,” Mark snickers. “It’s nice to see you having all this fun when you’re usually so stone cold.”

“I’m not stone cold, I’m just unresponsive,” Jinyoung corrects him.

“Unresponsive until someone grazes your shoes with theirs,” you quip, making Mark laugh.

Jinyoung gasps, “those shoes were white and they were expensive! Anyone in the right mind would be upset!” You and Mark’s giggles are only heightened at how Jinyoung starts nagging you two for stepping on his white shoes once a few years back.

“Alright, alright,” Mark says in between laughs, “we’ll be more careful when you’re wearing white shoes.”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was (Y/n), but hyung,” he emphasizes on ‘hyung’, hinting at the fact that Mark acts like a teenager despite already almost breaching his thirties. “I would’ve expected at least some respect for my white shoes from you!”

“Dude, just soak them—that’ll take the stain right off.”

“They’re leather!”

“Let’s just agree not to ruin Jinyoung’s white, leather shoes, so that he’ll stop nagging at us,” you giggle. Jinyoung whines in response as he glances at you. Mark makes another comment that has Jinyoung practically fuming. He’s lucky that it’s a red light because he puts the gear into neutral and reaches behind to grab onto the black hoodie of Mark’s jacket, the older man whining and crying in response while you watch with pure glee.

[junosartsthetic]

Patching Things Up   

Wordcount: 3846

Character(s): Dabi, (Y/N)

Warning(s): Innuendos. Swearing. Mentions of sex. Angst. 

Note: This is an updated version of a one-shot I originally posted on my Quotev account.

__

 You snuggled deeper into the blankets surrounding you, your feet tucked under you as you leaned against the armrest. Your eyes fixated themselves onto the T.V. as you flipped through the channels with one hand, the other holding a mug of hot chocolate.

       A sudden knocking at the door caused you to pause your channel surfing and look towards the door a little ways away from the living room. You could see the rain pouring outside the window but spotted nobody.

       You raised an eyebrow and set your mug down on the side table before standing up, the remote being placed on the arm rest. Your socks slid against the wooden floor as you made your way to the door, covering your robe against your body to keep warm.

       You peered out the window and saw a figure, though it was too dark to make out the specifics. You flicked on the porch light.

       A young man with jarring purple blotches of skin all over his body held together by staples slouched forward, his hands gripping his side. Blood dripped from it.

       You let out a gasp. You recognized him as one of the members of the League of Villains— Dabi.

       Your hand went into your robe pocket and you pulled out your phone, getting ready to dial the cops before a harsh knock stopped you. Your eyes met a bright teal as you stared at his face through the window. His gaze was soft, softer than you’d seen from his pictures on the news. It looked strangely familiar.

       You slid your phone back and put a hand against the window, tilting your head. What was he doing here? Why your house?

       His mouth began to move, and you made out the words, ‘open the door.’

       You shook your head.

       He frowned. ‘Please.’

       You bit your lip before reaching for the handle and opening it. Now, only a glass door remained between the two of you.

       You reached out to grab the handle to the glass door, and pulled it open slightly. ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ you thought, now holding it open wide enough for him to step inside. ‘He’s a murderer. A Villain. And I’m letting him inside because of some weird nostalgic feeling. God, I’m an idiot.’

       He grabbed the edge of the door and used it as a brace as he limped inside. He was soaked to the bone and blood began to drip onto your door mat.

       “What the hell are you doing here?” you asked, closing the doors behind him. “I don’t even know you.”

       Dabi let out a breathy laugh which quickly devolved into coughing. His eyes held a certain spark to them, and you squinted at him. He shrugged his leather coat off and hung it on the coat rack before kicking his shoes off. “Yes you do,” he replied, now beginning to limp towards your kitchen.

       “Hey!” you said, stomping after him. “I don’t know what came over me to let you inside, but you don’t get to prance around my house like you own the place.” You caught up to him and pulled on his arm to get his attention as he was now digging through your medicine cabinet. “And I have never met you before in my life.”

       He turned his head to glance at you, flashing you a cocky smile. “C’mon, you really don’t remember me, princess?”

       “Princess— ” you shot him a glare—  “For, the last time, I’m a knight, not a princess— ” you stopped, flashing back to a vivid memory.

       “Okay,” he said, his six year old self pointing at your five year old self with a wooden sword. “Now, you go and be the princess, and I’ll slay the dragon for you!”

       You shook your head, crossing your chubby arms. “No! I wanna be the knight in shining armor!”

       “But then who will be the princess?”

       You smiled. “You!”

       He shook his head. “I don’t wanna.”

       “Okay, then you can be the dragon, and I can be the knight, and there can be a pretend princess!” You tilted your head, wondering if that would be alright. “How about that…”

       “Touya,” you suddenly said, your body freezing up as you backed away from the male who was now taking his bloodstained shirt off in the middle of your kitchen.

       He paused, his arms partially behind his head and his shirt halfway off, and let out a soft chuckle. “It’s been a while.”

       Your heart began to race as your eyes fogged up with tears. “I- I thought you were dead! What the hell are you doing with your life! A villain, really?” You shook your head, wetness now rolling down your cheeks. “Why, Touya?”

       He finished pulling his shirt off, revealing the true extent of his scars, and began to dab a cotton ball doused in rubbing alcohol on what looked to be a bullet wound on the side of his stomach, his other hand holding a pair of your tweezers. “The name’s Dabi now.”

       “I don’t care.” You wiped your tears away and grabbed the cotton ball and the tweezers before gesturing for him to sit on one of your bar stool chairs. “I need answers. You can’t just— ” you let out a tense breath—  “just show up here after all this time!”

       He sat down on the bar stool and turned his wound towards you. “Fine, but I’m currently bleeding out, so maybe we should focus on that first, aye, princess?”

       “Shut up,” you muttered, nose scrunching up as you examined the wound. You assumed the bullet was still lodged in there somewhere, which meant you had to use the tweezers to get it out. “You’re lucky I care about you, or else I’d throw you back out on the street.”

       “Even after all this time, huh?” he said, looking at you as you slowly moved the tweezers towards the hole. “I thought you’d be pissed as hell and punch me in the dick or something when I showed up here.”

       “Oh trust me,” you replied, shoving the tweezers in the wound rather harshly before gripping the bullet and yanking it out, making him flinch and curse in pain, “I am definitely pissed and will not hesitate to punch you in the dick.”

       You placed the bloody bullet in the sink and quickly grabbed some gauze and cotton balls, wrapping the wound and creating pressure on it. You had to wrap your arms around his torso to properly secure the gauze, and fought the urge to blush. ‘I shouldn’t be this close to a cocky shirtless villain.’

       He laughed, but said nothing else as you finished tending to his wound and proceeded to back away, putting your hands on your hips. “Alright, I doubt you’ll die, so now tell me what the hell is going on.”

       He stood up from the chair and began heading back towards your bedroom. “Let me take a shower first, then we’ll talk.”

       You let out a groan. “Fine, don’t get blood on my white towels, moron.”

       He turned back to flash you a stupid grin before opening your bedroom door and shutting it behind him.

       You sat on the loveseat to wait, and eventually heard the water kick on from the master bathroom shower. It took another fifteen minutes for it to kick off.

       You turned towards your room door, ready to scold him again for showing up out of the blue, but the words got caught in your throat.

       He opened the door, a towel in his hands as he rubbed the water out of his hair, his lower half sporting a towel skirt and nothing else.

       You tried your best not to pay attention to the way droplets of water rolled down his chest, and made their way between each and every muscle before disappearing into the towel wrapped around his hips.

       You attempted not to notice how attractive his hair still was, despite being dyed black now, or how hot you still found him despite his new scars. They simply added more character to an already completely one of a kind person, and you bit your cheek. ‘God, why did I have to fall in love with him, and why am I still in love with him?’

       His voice broke you from your thoughts. “Are you done staring? I’m fuckin’ freezing. You got any clothes that would fit me?”

       You cleared your throat and patted your cheeks in an attempt to quench the redness. “In the bottom drawer of my dresser should be something. Just put your old clothes in the washer in the bathroom.”

       He gave a mock salute before walking back inside, a water puddle now on your floor from where he once stood.

       Standing up, you moved to your kitchen to grab a rag before wiping up the water, going to clean the blood off your entryway, as well. ‘God damn it, Touya.’

       After another five minutes, he walked out in a familiar pair of sweatpants and a band tee, a smirk on his face. “You kept my clothes? D’aww.”

       “Shut up and sit down,” you muttered, face flushed as you gestured to the couch across from the loveseat you sat in.

       “Okay, fine,” he replied before heading to the loveseat and picking you up bridal-style, sitting down and proceeding to set you on his lap. “There.”

       You let out a vaguely offended noise, flustered. “Hey! Just because we dated way back when we were teens doesn’t mean you can come in here and pretend like you didn’t disappear for years!”

       “Why not?” he replied, leaning back in the chair and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. He was warmer than you, despite just taking a shower, and you assumed his quirk kept him rather hot.

       You shook your head and attempted to lean forward, only to get pulled back once more. “Because, how do I know you’re the same person you were back then? What happened, Touya? Last I remember, you were nineteen and living with me, and then you suddenly vanish and never come back! You can’t do things like that!” The tears you shed in the kitchen returned full force, choking you up.

       “I told you, the name is Dabi now,” he mumbled, placing his chin atop your head and letting out a sigh. “And I have no excuses for what I’ve done. There’s nothing I can say to change what happened. I— ” he took in a breath, his normally cocky exterior shattering to reveal the true pain underneath—  “I’m sorry, princess— no, (Y/N). I’m so fucking sorry.”

       You heard his voice crack, and felt drops hit the top of your head. Neither of you spoke, just letting out all the bottled up emotions of the past few years.

       Eventually, you managed to stop crying long enough to pull your head away from his chest and look him in the eyes. He was already looking at you. You reached up and gently cupped his cheek, rubbing the purple skin which covered the lower half softly. “Does it hurt?”

       He shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

       You began to tear up again. “Is this my fault? Did I push you over the edge?”

       He immediately placed a hand atop yours, his other one hugging your waist tightly. “No!” he yelled, before clearing his throat. “No… You had nothing to do with this. I just— I snapped. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t take him. He constantly reminded me I wasn’t good enough and I didn’t— ” he heaved out a breath—  “I didn’t deserve anything, much less someone like you.”  You knew exactly who he was.

       “Touya…”

       “I told you— ” you used your other hand to hold a finger to his mouth.

       “Hush. You’ll always be my Touya.”

       He gave you a half-hearted smile which turned into a playful smirk. “Your Touya?”

       You flushed. “Yes. You never broke up with me so technically we’re still dating, and you’re still my Touya.”

       He let out a soft snort. “God, I missed you,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb against your hand before leaning forward.

       You moved the finger against his lips to cup his other cheek, and copied his movements.

       Despite the roughness of his lips, the kiss was soft, and you could feel the old spark between you re-ignite.

       When you pulled away, his eyes were closed and he had a smile on his face. “I missed that, too.”

       You laughed.

       The beeping of a cell phone brought you both out of the moment, and he looked towards his jacket still hanging on the coat rack. “I need to get that, it’s probably that dick Shigaraki.”

       Your expression dulled. ‘Right, he’s a villain now.’

       He gathered you up in his arms before standing up and placing you back on the loveseat. He trudged to his coat, pulled out a phone and read the lit up screen. He glanced at you.

       You looked at him. He turned away, typing out a response before heading back towards you. “Are you leaving?” you asked, voice strangely monotone.

       “Not yet,” he replied, picking you up again to return to his original spot. “I told him to shove it for now.”

       “Won’t you get in trouble for that? I don’t want you getting punished because of me,” you said, voice now conveying your sadness.

       He shrugged and cuddled you closer, one of his hands reaching for the cup of hot chocolate on the side table to take a sip. “I don’t care. I’d go through the worst of whatever the world has to offer to stay like this,” he said, voice honest and content and sounding much like your Touya.

       The person before you now wasn’t quite like the Touya you knew, nor the Dabi, he was an odd combination, but you didn’t care. Your long lost lover was now back, and that was good enough for you. Sure, it might be wrong to still be in love with him, despite all the awful shit he's done since he's been gone, but you can't help it. When you love someone, you never really get rid of that feeling.

       You closed your eyes and began to drift off to sleep, but not before feeling a goodnight kiss against your forehead. You smiled. ‘Yeah, definitely good enough for me.’ You awoke to the smell of something burning, and your eyes quickly shot open as you tumbled out of bed. Your back hit the ground as you let out a groan, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes.

       Flashbacks of last night flashed in your mind and you shot up from the floor and ran to the kitchen.

       Smoke filled the kitchen, and you slid open the window above the sink for some fresh air.

       You spotted Touya amongst the fog, a pan filled with bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove.

       You nudged his shoulder and gestured to the smoke-filled room, coughing. “What the fuck are you making over there, fire?”

       “It’s been a while since I’ve made you breakfast, alright? Give me a break,” he said, turning off the burner and sliding the bacon and eggs onto two different plates.

       You closed your eyes for a moment. “You didn’t have to—  I didn’t ask you to. Honestly, I thought you’d have left while I was asleep.”

       He grabbed both plates and set them down on the bar counter before sliding into a seat. “Do you want me gone that bad?” he asked, smirking.

       “No! I— ” you cleared your throat—  “I mean, I just assumed you had villain things to attend to and such.”

       He let out a laugh. “Villain things? What does that even mean?”

       “I don’t know,” you replied, puffing your cheeks out in anger. “I just meant I didn’t expect you to stay. It still doesn’t feel real. I— I thought you were dead!” Despite you trying not to, you started to sniffle, making him frown. “It feels like you’re back from the dead! I attended a funeral for you! I said my goodbyes and yet here you are!” At this point, tears streamed down your face as you held your arms against your chest. “I can tell you want things to go back to the way they were, but that can’t happen! Things have changed too much…”

       He stood up from the stool and walked over, wrapping his arms around you. He smelt like burnt food, and you let out a small laugh. He was trying his hardest to win your affections back, but you couldn’t help but hesitate. “Nothing I can say will ever make what I’ve done okay—  I know that. I just—  I can’t just walk away now, either. You’re the only person I have left who knows I’m still alive, and I’m still in love with you, (Y/N).”

       You buried your face into the old band tee he was wearing, moving your arms to wrap around his waist tightly. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, but what if you leave today and never come back?”

       He moved a hand to softly grip your chin, and brought your head up to make eye contact. “Look at me, princess, I won’t abandon you, not again. Not ever again.”

       Your lips formed a hesitant smile. “How can you say that? You could die and I wouldn’t know. I hate the fact that you’re a villain, Touya. I hate it so so much and I— I wish you could stay with me forever instead of going back there.” You shook your head, pulling away from his grasp and taking a seat on a stool. “But I know that this is a choice you made for valid reasons, and I couldn’t ask you to drop everything. Let’s just— I guess, enjoy the time we have now, and figure everything out later.”

       He took a seat beside you, and you two ate in silence. Everything tasted vaguely like smoke, and you let out a sigh. He still sucked at cooking.

       “I moved you to your bed, by the way,” he spoke up in between bites. “I slept on the couch.”

       You glanced at him, rolling your eyes. “My bed is more than big enough for two, moron.”

       “I see your caring nicknames haven’t changed,” he said, grabbing both now-empty plates to bring them to the sink. “Would it hurt to call me something nice for a change?”

       “Oh sorry,” you said sarcastically. “What names should I be calling you?”

       He looked over his shoulder, hands still scrubbing the dishes. “Oh, I don’t know, your knight in shining armor, babe, sweetie, the best sex you’ve ever-”

       You interrupted his monologue by throwing an apple from the fruit bowl at him, face red. “Shut up… moron.”

       He frowned. “That wasn’t very nice.”

       “It wasn’t supposed to be, now stop cleaning the dishes like you live here. I can do it.” When you got up and attempted to push him aside, he didn’t budge. “Would you just sit down, moron? I got it!”

       “No.”

       You let out an exasperated sigh before grabbing him by his shoulders and looking him in the eye. “Would you just sit down, babe? I got it.”

       “Better, but no.”

       You smacked his chest before crossing your arms. “I’m not saying the last one, now move.”

       He opened the dishwasher before placing the dirty dishes inside. “Too late, I’m already done.”

       You simply threw your arms up in surrender before trudging to the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

       Within moments, a body was next to you. You glanced beside you to see Touya sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring boredly at the black television. “What now?”

       “I’m assuming you now have to leave, being that you told your superior to shove it last night and they’re probably a bit pissed.”

       “You just can’t wait to get rid of me, huh?” he said, annoyance lacing his tone.

       “Okay, fine, get in trouble, see if I care.” You pouted, bringing your knees up and wrapping your arms around them.

       You felt him wrap his arms around you. He kissed your ear. “Let’s do something. I’ll leave soon, just not yet.”

       You pushed him away. “Like what? By the time we figure out where to go you’ll have to leave.”

       “Who says we can’t do something here?”

       You rose a brow, which prompted him to pull you into his lap, his lips quickly meeting your neck. You flushed red, a shiver going down your spine at the coldness of the staples against your skin. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and your first idea of something to do is fuck?”

       He pulled away. “Uhh, yeah?”

       “Wow. Classy.” You stood up, despite his grip on your waist telling you not to, and turned to face him. “We should go on a walk.”

       His face fell. He blinked at you. “Seriously?”

       “Yes!” you grabbed his hands and pulled him up. “Like we used to do! I miss walks.”

       He sighed, but nodded nonetheless. “You sound like a dog, but alright. Only for you.”

       You smiled and went to put on warm clothes.

       Eventually, you two made it outside dressed in fall clothes. After last night’s rain, puddles formed on the sidewalk and you stepped in them as you walked, observing the falling leaves.

       Your arms were wrapped around one of his, one of your hands holding his. A sense of Deja Vu washed over you, and a light blush permanently dusted your cheeks. Having him back, even for a day, made you happier than you’d ever been before, and you weren’t ready for him to leave.

       After walking only three blocks, a ping sounded from his pocket, and he looked at the screen of his phone before scowling. “Damn it.”

       “Hmm?”

       “I gotta go.”

       You stopped walking, giving him a sad smile. “Oh. Do you know when you’ll be back? I’ll sorta miss you.”

       He laughed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead before smiling. “I’ll sorta miss you too, princess. I’ll be back as soon as I can, just don’t assume I’m dead, alright?”

       You smacked his arm. “That was one time! And being you were gone for years, I had a right to!”

       He grabbed your wrists, pulling you in for a hug. “I know. Just— wait for me. I promise you I’ll be back.”

       You slipped out of his grasp and stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You better be, moron.”

       After a last kiss goodbye, he shot you a wink before beginning to trek forward, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a soft smile and tears in your eyes.

       ‘God damn it. I just had to go catch feelings again. Stupid Touya. Stupid me.’

       You crossed your arms, shaking your head. “If he doesn’t come back alive, I’ll kill him.”

       With those words, you turned to walk back to your house, leaves crunching underneath you.

[cherryblossomflowers]

Her Special Day

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Jensen wants YN to have an incredible birthday, but when his plans start to fail he's worried he ruined her special day. Luckily, YN is very understanding.

Warnings: Mega Fluff, Slight Cursing, Anxiety/Panic

A/N: Happy Birthday @mlovesstories​ I hope your day is filled with laughter and joy. Here's a little something from me. (I also had to add a JA gif from yesterday, lol) Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

***ASK OPEN***

*LET ME KNOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE TAGGED*

Cherry Blossom One-Shot Masterlist

As he pulled into his driveway, Jensen looked down at the clock on his radio, "Okay, she should be here in about an hour. That's plenty of time to get everything set up."

Today was YN's birthday and Jensen was determined to make it an unforgettable one. After all, the two have been dating for 3 years now.

And Jensen believed it was time to take that next step.

Early that morning, he called a local flower shop to deliver a bouquet of roses to YN's office as a surprise for her birthday. Then he made a plan and got ready for the day.

His first stop was the jewelry store in town. It took some time to find the perfect diamond, but after 3 hours of careful looking, he had found it. 

He didn't even flinch at the price when he swiped his credit card, especially since YN's happiness was worth more to him than any amount of money he ever had.

His next stop was the floral shop that he had the roses delivered from. He decided to buy a couple more bouquets of roses and use the petals as a romantic decoration around the house.

Finally he popped into the grocery store to pick up ingredients for YN's favorite meal: chicken parmesan. He also grabbed a chocolate cake mix, frosting, and candles, deciding that a semi-homemade birthday cake was better than having someone else make it in a bakery.

After he purchased everything, Jensen climbed back in his truck and drove to his house. He pulled into the driveway, checked the time, and got to work.

Jensen managed to get everything inside, including the ring, and into the kitchen before setting up a plan of action, "First things first: I need to get that cake made so it has time to cool. Then I need to get everything decorated. I should probably get dinner at least put together while the cake bakes."

In his entire life, Jensen had never been this nervous. He wanted YN's special day to be memorable, but he also needed this proposal to be perfect. She was the love of his life and he wanted her to always be happy.

So everything had to go right and be perfect.

After a half hour of mixing ingredients, Jensen popped the cake in the oven and got to work preparing dinner. Since he's made chicken parmesan several times over the years, mainly at YN's request, it was second nature to him.

He set the dish aside and started decorating the living room and kitchen for YN's birthday. He put one bouquet of roses in a vase and set them on the counter, then he set the table for himself and YN.

A little while later, the timer for the cake went off and he pulled the pans out of the oven. He set them on the cooling rack and slipped the chicken parmesan into the oven.

As he was cleaning up the kitchen, his phone started to ring on the counter. He picked it up and saw the picture from his and YN's first date at the water park.

He smiled as he answered, "Why hello, birthday girl."

Her giggle on the other end made his heart skip a beat, "Hello, love. Guess who got off work a half hour early?"

Jensen pulled back his phone and noticed the time, "O-oh, wow that’s...great," he had to think of something to keep her busy a bit longer, "Um, hey why don't you stop by the store a grab a bottle of wine? I spaced getting it when I was at the store earlier."

"But don't you have like rows and rows of wine in your house?"

"Y-yeah, I do. But I want you to have your favorite and we drank the last of it a week ago."

"Oh, uh, okay then. Sure, I'll stop by the store. Is there anything else I could grab?"

"Nope, that should be it. I'll see you in a bit my love," Jensen sighed in relief.

"I love you, Jay."

"Love you, too," he hung up and set his phone back on the counter, "Great, that bought me some time, but not a lot."

After grabbing the ring box from the kitchen counter, he jogged into the bedroom and swung open his closet. He looked around until he spotted the royal blue dress shirt that happened to be YN's favorite on him. He also grabbed his black slacks and dress shoes to match.

He set the ring on the nightstand by his side of the bed and changed rather quickly before walking into the bathroom to fix his hair, spray some cologne, and make sure he looked as handsome as the first time YN fell in love with him.

He took a long look at himself in the mirror and sighed, "You're all right. You can do this. You're Jensen Ross Ackles. Just a simple question: will you marry me? It's not that difficult. Just take a deep breath and relax."

He walked out of the bedroom and back towards the kitchen. As he stepped into the kitchen, he heard YN's car pulling into the driveway and he panicked.

"Shit!" he whispered, "Nothing’s ready. What do I do?"

He had to think quick on his feet, so he bolted out the front door and over to YN's car. He yanked open her driver door, which startled her.

"Jeez, Jay. Are you trying to scare me to death?" YN sighed.

"N-no, sorry. I...um..." he trailed off, trying to figure out what to say.

YN stepped out of the car and shook the bottle in her hand, "I got the wine."

"Oh, right," Jensen nodded, "I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay, love," she kissed his cheek, "Let's go inside and chill. I had a long day and I just want to have a nice relaxing evening with my love," she started walking towards the house.

Jensen panicked, "YN, wait!"

"What for?" she turned to him, "Awe, are you wearing that shirt because it's my birthday? Or just because it's my favorite?"

"Both, I guess," he walked up to her, "But you can't go inside."

YN rolled her eyes and smiled, "Why not?"

"Because...because..." Jensen stood behind her and covered her eyes, "It's a surprise! No peeking, okay?"

"Okay," she chuckled, "You know I'm not one for surprises, Jay."

"I know, but...trust me," he breathed, "This is a good surprise."

He kept his hands covering YN's eyes as they walked into his house. He guided her away from the kitchen and living room and towards his bedroom. He kicked the door closed behind himself, took his hands off YN's eyes, and spun her around to look at him.

"Whoa, okay. Now that I can see, what do you have up your sleeve, Jensen?" YN asked.

"Whatever do you mean, my love?" Jensen smiled, "Now, why don't you get out of your work clothes and take a long, hot bath?"

YN sighed, "That does sound nice."

"And while you do so, I'll get dinner ready."

"What's for dinner?"

"Your favorite."

YN smiled, "You're the best."

Jensen turned her around and walked her towards the bathroom, "I'll take that title for sure, but since it's your special day, I think you should take it back. All I've done is put chicken and sauce in a pan. You, m'lady," he kissed her cheek, "do more for me everyday just by breathing."

YN sighed in content, "You're going to be the death of me, Ackles."

"I love you, too," he smiled, "Now, go take a bath and meet me in the kitchen when you're done. Take as long as you need."

YN nodded as she walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind herself. Jensen let out a long sigh of relief as he walked out of the bedroom and back to the kitchen.

The cake had to be cool enough to ice by now, so he took them out of the pans and layered them on a plate. He grabbed the frosting and a spatula, and got to work on the cake. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world, but Jensen made it himself.

He added the candles to the top then stood back to look at his handy work, "Not bad, Ackles. Not bad at all."

After setting the cake on the counter next to the vase of roses, he walked over to the dining table, picked up the last bouquet, and started pulling off the flower petals. He scattered them around the dining table then started walking back towards the bedroom while scattering more petals as a path.

When he reached the bedroom, he could hear YN's music coming from the bathroom. He smiled as he thought of how the rest of the night was going to go.

First, she'd walk out of the bathroom, her towel around her body and hair, and relaxed from her long soak. Then she'd get dressed and notice the rose petals around her feet. She'd walk out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and towards the kitchen. She'd see dinner on the table, her birthday cake, and more roses waiting for her.

And Jensen would be there, knelt down on one knee with the ring in his hand. He'd pop the question, she'd say yes (hopefully), and they'd live happily ever after.

It was perfect. Well, hopefully it would be that perfect.

Suddenly, a beeping could be heard coming from the kitchen and Jensen could smell smoke. He went into a panic as he ran out of the bedroom and towards the kitchen.

He abruptly came to a halt when he saw black smoke pouring out of the oven, "Shit! I forgot to set a timer for dinner!"

He ran into the kitchen and pulled the oven open, causing more smoke to pour out of it. He blindly reached around for something to douse the small fire and rolling black smoke.

Unfortunately that thing happened to be the vase of roses. He grabbed it and tossed it on to the flame, which ruined the flowers but extinguished the fire.

When he realized what he had done, he felt himself panic more, "Oh, no. No, no, no. This is bad. The flowers...dinner...they're both ruined."

He took a few steps back from the oven, trying to figure out a quick plan to fix this. When he moved backwards, he ended up bumping into the cake and knocking it to the ground.

He whipped around and gasped at the sight, "No! Not the cake too! What am I going to do now?!"

Just then, he heard the bedroom door squeak open and footsteps approaching the kitchen.

"Hey, uh, Jay?" YN's voice echoed in his head, "Do you, um, do you want to tell me what this is that was sitting by your side of the bed? And why there are rose petals all over the floor?"

She walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, but paused when she saw the devastating sight in front of her.

There was Jensen on his hands and knees trying to somehow salvage the cake that had dropped. YN took a few steps towards him before he looked up at her with tears in his eyes.

She gasped when she saw his face, "Jensen? Honey, what happened?"

Jensen wiped his eyes, "I-I messed everything up. The chicken parmesan is burnt to a crisp, the flowers went up in flames, a-and I knocked over the cake," then he noticed the box in her hand, "Oh, no. Y-you didn't...open that did you?"

"No, not yet," YN shook her head, "I assumed it was a birthday gift that you wanted me to open with you."

He sighed, "Well, the entire night is ruined anyway. You might as well open it."

She glanced down at the box then back at Jensen, "Honey, the night isn't ruined. So dinner got a little burnt and the cake is on the ground and the flowers are toast. So what?" she knelt down next to him, "It doesn't matter."

He blinked up at her, "But your birthday-"

"Is just another day, love," she interrupted him, "You could've just popped in a movie, ordered a pizza, and we could have cuddled up on the couch. Just the fact that you tried to hard to make it perfect let's me know how much you really care about me. I love you so much."

Jensen smiled, "I love you, too, YN. And I'm sorry about all of this."

"Don't worry about it," she kissed him, "How about I help you clean up all of this then we'll watch a movie, drink some wine and relax?"

"I like that idea," he nodded, "I'll handle the cake if you want to try and get the pan of food out of the oven."

YN and Jensen stood from the floor and got to work. After YN placed the ring box on the counter, she walked over to the oven, grabbed potholders, and pulled out the dish. She placed it in the sink and started running water on it to cool it down enough to clean it.

Meanwhile, Jensen pulled the trashcan over to start cleaning the cake off the floor. He grabbed cake by the handful and tossed them in the trashcan.

It took roughly a half hour or more to clean up the mess in the kitchen. Jensen and YN had to change their clothes once they finished as Jensen was covered in cake frosting and sweat while YN was covered in burnt chicken parm and soapy water.

Once back in the living room, YN collapsed on the couch with a heavy sigh, "I could use a glass of wine."

Jensen chuckled, "I think I can handle that."

"You sure?" YN asked.

"Hardy har har," he rolled his eyes as he walked into the kitchen, "That was so funny."

He poured two glasses of wine and moved to walk out of the kitchen when the ring box caught his eye. He had completely forgotten about proposing to her after everything had happened.

Jensen grabbed the box and took a breath, "It's now or never."

He walked back into the living room and handed a glass of wine to YN. She took it from him and immediately took a satisfying sip.

"Wow, who knew wine was the key to your happiness," he chuckled as he sat next to her and put his glass on the table.

"Well, not exactly. Just a long day," she sighed and took another sip.

Jensen took a breath and held out the box, "YN, um-"

"Oh, my birthday present," she set the wine glass on the table.

"Sort of," he smirked, "Look, I know that I'm not a perfect guy. I know that I mess up from time to time, and it's mainly from my nerves. Things like tonight, I know it won't be the last time they happen. But out of all the things I know, there is one that tops them all: I know for a fact that I love you and that you love me back."

YN felt tears welling up in her eyes, "Oh, Jay."

"I've done a lot of thinking lately. And I've come to 3 conclusions: 1) I am a huge dork who's dating the most beautiful and amazing woman on the planet. 2) That amazing woman has had me wrapped around her finger from the first moment we locked eyes. And 3) The finger needs a little something more to make it official," Jensen opened the box to reveal the ring.

YN gasped, "Jensen..."

He smiled at her with tears in his eyes, "I love you, YN YLN. Would you do me the incredible honor of becoming Mrs. YN Ackles?"

"Oh my gosh, Jensen. Y-you're being serious, right? This isn't some prank o-or some cruel joke, right?" she was shaking from shock.

"No, baby. This is real. This is 100% real," he took her hand, "So, what do you say?"

YN chuckled, "What do I say? What do you mean 'what do I say'?" she leaned forward and kissed him, "Yes, Jensen, of course I'll marry you."

"Really? Yes?!" Jensen smiled his mega watt smile as he took the ring out and slide it on her finger.

YN took a long look at the ring, "This is gorgeous, honey."

"I couldn't find the exact one that you wanted, but I hope you'll love it just the same," he kissed her hand.

"It's perfect," she reached for her wine glass, "To my handsome fiance. He has his quirks, but he always keeps a smile on my face."

Jensen lifted his own glass, "And to the birthday girl, my gorgeous fiance. There's not a single flaw about her, well maybe except her small phone addiction-"

"Hey, now," YN interrupted him, "I am the owner of a company. I kind of have to be on my phone from time to time."

"But regardless of that," Jensen chuckled, "she's always there for me no matter how clumsy I get."

"To us," YN clinked her glass against Jensen's.

"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Ackles," Jensen nodded.

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

Masterlist

My Cherry Blossoms

@mlovesstories​​​ @smollestbean-2​​​ @kitwithnokat​​​

@idksupernatural​​​ @desiredposion​​​ @thevelvetseries​​​ @let-me-luve-you​​​

@obsessedwithfandomsx​​​ @mangueweaschester​​​ @starchildwild​​​ @deans-baby-momma​​​

@spnbaby-67​​​ @unicornmadness2444​​​

@emery--nicole--morrison​​​ @spnfamily-j2​​​ @akshi8278​​​ @avocadogirl216​​​

@imthedoctorlove​​​ @x-mypeopleskillsarerusty-x @lyarr24​​

[f0rever15elf]

I’m Sorry

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: T Word count: 1,961 Warnings: Alcohol mention, swearing, drinking/getting drunk alone, angst, verbal fighting, no beta

Summary: All couples fight eventually, but this time leaves you questioning your relationship with Marcus

A/N: This is a fic for the following anonymous request: “ Hi!! I was wondering if your Pedro requests are still open? Cause if they are I’d like to request a Marcus Pike or Frankie Morales piece, where they like get into an argument with you and it’s like super angsty, but y’all make up in the end ((: “ I hope you enjoy it dear!

Masterlist |  Ao3

“You absolute CHILD!” you shriek as you slam the door open, storming into the home you shared with Marcus.

“Oh, I’m the child?! You’re the one throwing a temper tantrum!” Marcus slams the door closed with just as much force as you slammed it open.

“Yes, Pike. You’re the child! I cannot believe you right now.” You wheel on him, stabbing your finger against his chest as you glare up at him. “Do you even realize how fucking embarrassed I am right now? I’m never going to be able to show my face at a work function ever again all because you decided to turn into a little green-eyed monster! Child!” Marcus snarls, grabbing your wrist to pull it away from his chest. His grip was firm, but even in the heat of the anger and jealousy you could see bubbling in his eyes, he was still gentle enough to not hurt you.

“And what would you have had me do, huh?! Just let your ex sit there and cozy up to you like that? He had his hands on you and his eyes hadn’t left you all freaking night!”

You yank your wrist from his grasp, absolutely seething. “We’re coworkers! We have an image to upkeep as far as being cordial with each other, especially in front of share holders! Marcus, there were investors there, and your little outburst has put every single deal involving them in jeopardy!” You rip your shoes off, the uncomfortable heels not aiding your mood in the slightest. “All because you got jealous of my ex. All because you couldn’t stand to see me being friendly with someone who use to be in my life. I have never done something like that to you! Not when your high school sweetheart left you flowers. Not when Lisbon sauntered her happy ass into your office, perched herself on you desk, and FIXED YOUR FUCKING HAIR!” Marcus’ nostrils flare as he towers over you, his voice low when he speaks again.

“Don’t bring them into this, this isn’t about them.”

“Oh like hell it isn’t! You know why I didn’t care about those two? Cause I was confident you wouldn’t do anything to hurt or betray me. Because I fucking love you and trust you! But apparently you don’t feel the same way, if your self confidence is so low that you can’t stand to see me laughing with my ex without deciding it’s an appropriate time to throw hands!” That was a low blow, and you knew it, but you were so angry the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. The two of you stand there in the living room, shoulders heaving as you pant for air. You could hear a pin drop, and the tension was so thick it felt suffocating. Slowly, the anger fades from Marcus’ eyes, replaced only with pain as his expression shifts. You cut him deep with that comment, you know you did, and it hurt to see that pain in his gentle eyes.

“M...Marcus…” Your voice is much softer now as you reach for his hand, but he takes a step back out of your reach, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he whispers, turning and grabbing the car keys from the bowl as he all but runs from the house. You stand there frozen, hand outstretched as you listen to the sound of the car engine starting followed by the tires squealing as he tears out of the driveway. Tears brim in your eyes, spilling over as you begin to tremble.

What have you done?

The minutes turn into hours as you sit in the dark of your living room, waiting on your Marcus to return. An empty wine bottle sits on the coffee table next to a second nearly empty one. You swirl the pale liquid in your glass before bringing it to your lips to down the rest of it. Your once manicured nails have been bitten down to the nail bed, a nasty habit of yours when your anxiety gets the better of you. A habit that hadn’t reared its ugly head since the day you met Marcus… Two in the morning and he still isn’t home and you’re getting worried. You had messed up, and big time. You know how much Marcus struggles with his own confidence after how Lisbon had treated him. You know that, and you still felt the need to fling it in his face. Words said out of anger, words you didn’t mean...you couldn’t take them back now, no matter how much you wished you could.

A fresh round of sobs bubble from your throat as your hand flies to your mouth in an attempt to hold them back. Marcus is the best thing to have ever happened to you, how the hell could you do something like this to him, no matter how angry you were. You rub your eyes, looking like a raccoon from the smeared makeup, before you stagger to your feet. You wanted Marcus. You needed him. You needed him here, at home, where you could apologize until your voice goes hoarse and it still wouldn’t be enough.

The world spins around you, the two bottles of wine catching up to you as you stagger through the living room before falling to your knees. You cradle your face in your hands, sobs wracking your chest. Please come home Marcus, please come home. You don’t hear the key in the lock over the sound of your sobs, but when you feel the rush of air from the door opening, your head snaps up, bleary eyes searching desperately for the love of your life.

“Marcus?” you whimper, barely audible.

“Oh, love...what did you do?” he murmurs as he shuts the door before coming to your side, cradling your cheek gently. Desperate hands reach out to grab his shirt, now wrinkled and untucked from his pants, his jacket missing and sleeves rolled to the elbows.

“I-I’m s-s-sorry Marcus!” you wail, collapsing against him. His gentle arms wrap around you and he sighs, resting his head on top of yours. “I s-shouldn’t h-ha-have said wh-what I did! I was wr-wrong and c-cruel! P-please d-don’t leave m-me!” you plead, trembling against him.

“Leave you? Darling, I wouldn’t do that to you.” He leans back and tilts your chin up to look at him, paying no mind to the black splotches your makeup leaves against his once crisp white button down. His thumb traces along your chin before his hand moves to cup your face, running his thumb along your cheek bone. “You smell like wine...how much have you had?” You shake your head, ignoring the question as you continue to cling to him, your sobs slowing.

“I love you and I d-din’t mean what I said,” you whimper. “Don go again, p-please don g-go again.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, I just needed to cool down. Calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick.” He brushes your hair from your face as best he can before pulling you back against his chest, slowly rocking you in the middle of the floor. His hand pets your hair gently, soothingly as the remaining cries slowly abate. “Let’s get you to bed, love. Alright? We can discuss this more in the morning.” You mumble something unintelligible against his chest as he helps you stagger to your feet, guiding you to the bedroom. He carefully sits you on the bed, helping you undress down to your bra and underwear, removing your jewelry before going to get a warm cloth, helping to wipe your face. Finally, he hands you a glass of water which you stubbornly refuse at first. “Baby, please? For me?” You crumble, taking the glass and chugging it. He smiles and takes the glass back before gently laying you down so you’re slightly elevated.

When he joins you in bed you roll to snuggle against him, soaking in his warmth as he wraps his arms around you. The last words from your lips before you slip into unconsciousness are a very slurred I’m sorry.

The light of the day streaking across your face is what wakes you in the morning, and you groan as you come around, your head absolutely pounding. Your eyes feel like they’re full of sand and you can barely open them. Every joint in your body hurts and your mouth tastes like sandpaper. Slowly sitting up, you see a glass of water sitting on the nightstand next to two pain pills which you quickly take, downing the whole glass. As you dig the heels of your palms into your eyes in an attempt to dull the ache, last night comes rushing back to you and a wave of intense shame washes over you. A quiet rustling draws your attention to the door, and you seem Marcus peeking in. He gives you his gorgeous smile, one you feel you don’t deserve as he comes in.

“Good morning beautiful,” he whispers, knowing your head is probably killing you.

“Hi, Marcus…” He takes a seat on the bed next to you, taking your hand.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit...for a few reasons.” You look down at your connected hands, yours fitting so perfectly into his. “I’m sorry.”

“Want to elaborate on that?” He asks gently, lifting your face to look at him. There is a pained light in his eyes still that grows when he sees the shame and sadness in your own.

“For everything. For yelling, for that low blow, for...for getting drunk alone, for accusing you of bullshit and...and I…” you begin to tremble, his hand on your face the only thing keeping the tears at bay. “And I was so terrible to you and I’m so sorry, Marcus, I’m so fucking sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper as his hand leaves your face to place on the back of your head, pulling you against him. He smells as he always does, like cinnamon and coffee and his fresh aftershave and you use that smell to ground yourself.

“I’m sorry too, love of my life. I shouldn’t have behaved that way at the banquet, and I’ve already taken measures to mitigate what damage I may have done.” You shake your head, pulling back to look up at him.

“Screw the deals. They’re temporary.” You reach up to cup his cheek, your heart swelling as he leans into your touch. “You’re the one I’m in love with, the one I want to spend forever with. Everything else can burn to the ground, I just need you. I’ll always need you.” He smiles at you, that pain in his eyes fading as he watches you for a moment before leaning in to press his lips gently to yours. When he pulls back, he brushes your hair from your face before pressing his forehead to yours.

“We both acted like a couple of fools last night. Let’s put it behind us, ok? We’ll move forward and be better.” He takes your hand and places it over his heart. “It’s yours, completely and totally. I trust and love you with everything I am. I’ll be better, for you. For us.” Your eyes prickle with tears and you sniffle before leaning up to kiss him again.

“I love you too Marcus, so much. You’re my everything. I’ll be better for you, because you only deserve the best.”

He grins, placing a kiss on your nose. “Hey, that’s my line.”

You giggle softly, cuddling into him as he lays you back down to get a few more hours of rest. It’s all ok, you think. It’s all going to be ok. You still have your Marcus, and that is all that matters.

~~~~~

Tag Lists: Permanent : @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​, @tangledlove27​, @paintballkid711​, @lose-eels​, @adamdrivercouldchokeme​

Tag list is open!  Fic Requests are open!

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Darkest Little Paradise

Blue Jones Modern/Mob Boss AU ish

A/N: I have no fking clue what possessed me to write this but here we are  Im so sorry for this dumpsterfire

Pairing: Blue Jones x fem!Agent!Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ sub/dom themes, bondage themes, orgasm denial, dubcon???, dirty talk, praise kink, THAT GIF OH GOD

Word count: ~2.5k

You were going to die tonight. You were sure of it. No one lives to see another day after double-crossing the most notorious man in the city. Let alone someone who got into his club, his lair, his bed.

Blue Jones’ strip club was just a front for his more illegal activities, money laundering, drugs and arms dealing. Youhad joined as bartender as a secondary for our colleague’s mission and you caught the eye of the head within the first week of you employment. By the next few weeks, you and Blue had christened every surface of his office. And you had gotten a good look of the ‘behind the scenes’. It technically wasn’t a part of your job but you did it just because you wanted to. And getting a look into his operations was just an added benefit.  

Things turned to shit just as quickly, when your colleague’s cover was blown. You’d been forced to cut your losses and rescue your him from the man you were sleeping with. Your tactical team had caught Blue with two of his dealers and you had personally handcuffed him and shoved him into the armored vehicle. But where you had expected to see anger or betrayal, you had only seen mirth in his eyes.

That look haunted your dreams for nights. For days, you had sat in the courtroom, being forced to watch the jury dismiss every single evidence against him as circumstantial. 

Today, the jury had pronounced him innocent. And Blue Jones walked out of the fire unscathed. An entire year’s work gone down the drain with absolutely nothing to tie the crimes to the man himself. But at least two of his dealers were convicted, your superiors told you. For them it was a win. But not for you.

—-

You kick your apartment door close, frustration getting the best of you. Your bag goes flying in one direction and you kick off your heels, storming into the kitchen looking for that bottle of scotch in your cabinet not even bothering to turn the lights on. You slam you glass atop the dining table and pour a generous amount of liquor into it.

“Hey there, sweetness,” you jump at the smooth voice that sounds from the dark behind you. “Oh no no, baby,” The voice coos when you try to turn around, the cold barrel of a gun pressing into the back of your neck. You freeze as a warm body presses into your back, pining your hips against the table, reaching around you for the glass. You hear a scoff, then the sound of glass shattering as he tosses it against a wall. “Drinking isn’t good for you, sweetheart,” This is it, you think. You’re going to die.

“Show me your hands,” you hesitate for a second and you feel him press the gun harder into your skin. “Go on sweets, I won’t hurt you,” he coos as if he wasn’t holding a gun to your neck. You lift both hands before you, suppressing the tremors that run through you at the thought of what he might do to you. You’d once seen him beat a man’s face to a pulp for trying to steal from him. “It breaks my heart that I can’t trust you anymore sweetheart,” he sighs into your neck, sounding.

You hear the rustle of cloth behind you as he whispers a soft good girl into your ear when you obey. You really shouldn’t be getting turned on when your life was on the line, but here you are anyways. Your thighs clench together of their own volition at his praise and that sultry tone. His hand comes into view, clutching his tie, which he loops around both your wrist and holds them together before lowering his gun.

“I hate guns,” he mumbles more to himself than to you as he carelessly tosses it onto the table and it clattered, coming to rest barely a few inches from you. Blue works the tie around your wrists forming an elaborate knot, humming when he was satisfied with the results. You know you can’t escape it no matter how hard you try. You’ve tried before. He nudges your feet apart with his feet, still clad in the expensive leather shoes he loved so much.

“Put your hands on the table and bend over for me will you?” It isn’t as much of a question as it is a command, and you do as he tells you, your body already complying before your mind comprehends. He’s always had that effect on you. As much as you had hated it at first, it always ended with you having one of the most mind blowing orgasms of your life. Now that you couldn’t resist, even if you tried.

Blue lets out a shuddering breath. You realize it’s a turn on for him, seeing you all spread out and at his mercy. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to concentrate on the trial with you parading around in this fucking pencil skirt?” A violent shiver runs down your spine as he presses his hips against you, his erection evident against your ass. “All I could think about was bending you over the table and having my way with you in front of all those people,” your hips buck against his involuntarily at his words. “You would’ve liked that, wouldn’t you sugar?” He was speaking to you like he usually did when you were lying naked under him on his bed. Not like you had betrayed him and gotten his men arrested.

You eye the gun lying on the table before you. Could you try to reach for it? Do you even have a chance? You could still aim a gun with your wrists tied together. Maybe if you shove Blue backwards hard eno- 

You feel him ruck up your pencil skirt letting his fingers skim against yours thighs, way too close to your sensitive nub, and a wave of arousal hits you out of nowhere. Suddenly, escape is the last thing in your mind, and the gun lays forgotten before you. “I wanna feel you honey,” he breathes above you. “Can I? Let me touch you baby,” his fingers dance along your inner thighs, drawing patterns on the sensitive skin with the tips of his fingers. A hand dips into the waistband of your underwear as you nodded, rubbing circles into your throbbing clit as you whimpered in pleasure.

Blue yanks you up by the back of your shirt, leaning you against his chest as he slips a finger inside your slick folds. Your cry of surprise immediately morphs into moans as he adds another digit, pumping both fingers in and out of you. The heady scent of his cologne and the way he whispers filthy promises into your ear has you shaking in his arms. 

“You want another finger, baby? You need three of my fingers in your greedy little cunt?” His voice sounds high and breathless, like he’s getting off on the sole act of pleasuring you. The obscene sounds of his fingers squelching in your wetness echoes through the small space. Blue pants as heavily as you and he rolls his hips against your ass. He lifts his other hand to wrap his fingers around your throat, pressing his fingertips into the sides of your neck. You hang on to the edge of the table with your bound hands as Blue thrusts another finger inside you, curling them into the spot that makes you see stars. Your eyes roll back and your knees buckle, but his grip around you keeps you upright and flush against him.

You feel yourself rapidly approaching your release and Blue chooses that exact moment to extract his fingers from inside you. A keening cry slips from your mouth as you feel you orgasm dissipate. You whine his name when you feel his chest rumble as he finds humor in your plight. “If you behave, I might let you come, baby,” 

Blue turns you around and you get a good look at him in his crisp white shirt, just missing the usual jacket. He holds you close enough for you to feel the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingers. You lurch forward, trying to crush you lips against his, every ounce of shame and control thrown out the window. But Blue moves faster, a hand coming up to grab a handful of your hair and yanking it back. A guttural moan slips from your lips and you don’t bother trying to smother it.

“You look a little tense, sweetness,” you feel his hot breath on your skin as he grazes the tip of his nose up the column of your throat. His voice sweeps over you, so sweet and warm like honey, at odds with the way his grip on your hair sends pinpricks of pain through your scalp. “It’s been a frustrating day, hasn’t it?” 

The grip on your hair remains unrelenting as Blue coils his other arm around you, undoing the clasp on your pencil skirt. Then his fingers hook onto the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down all the way and he lets you step out of it. But he makes no move to go beyond that. You twist your fingers into his shirt in frustration.

“You want me to take care of you, sweetheart?” He nips your earlobe, grazing his teeth over the soft bone. “You know I can make you feel so good,” you squirm against him. You know he can make you feel great.

Your body is no longer in your control as he leads you to your couch, lying down on it before he pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling him, skirt bunched up around your hips. And you are grinding against him, hands splayed on his chest, trying to keep yourself upright as you frantically grinding your core against his clothed erection. It doesn’t take long for you to feel another orgasm approaching after the one he just denied you.

Until, he twists his hand into the material of your skirt, forcing you to a stop again. Tears prickle your eyes as you groan in frustration. “I wanna hear you beg for it,” Your arousal is soaking through the material of his pants, he has you all wound up and aching for him. That’s when he negotiates. 

“Blue, please,” your face burns at the sound of your own voice begging for him. “Please let me ride your cock, please,”

“What would your precious partner say if he sees you like this huh, baby?” He huffs a laugh, “Begging me to fuck you like a little slut?” You growl, pushing him harder into the couch, trying to shut him up. But it only encourages him, knowing that his goading was getting a rise from you. “Whoring yourself out to the enemy like this,” he shakes his head clucking. He hisses when you dig your nails into his chest, “You’ve got some claws, kitten,”

He releases his hold on your skirt and you shamelessly paw at his belt, trying your best to make use of your bound hands to undress him. Blue lays back, watching your desperate attempts to pull his pants down and whining in frustration as you fail. He chuckles, finally helping you push it down far enough to pull his length into his hands, giving himself a few short pumps before lining up against your dripping slit.

You lower yourself onto him, watching his mouth fall open as he fills you up, inch by inch. He throws his head back, eyes rolling back as a moan wrenches out of him. His fingers around your waist tightens as your wet heat envelopes him entirely, and his face twists in pleasure. You can’t bring yourself to look away from his gorgeous face, as much as you want to hate it. He groans your name as you start rocking on top of him.

Your real name. Not the alias you used during your time undercover.

“Just like that, you ride my cock so good, kitten.” He pants. His sweet moans and filthy words only drives you on harder. You throw your head back biting back your moans as you chase your release for the third fucking time. “I know you can be a hell lot more louder than that baby girl,” he growls, thrusting his hips to meet yours halfway. “Scream my name, baby. Show me how good I make you feel,”

And so you do. Your mind goes numb with pleasure when he grabs your waist pulling you down onto him at the same him he trusts into you. The only sounds from your mouth is the screams and moans of his name along with a few choice words that would make a sailor blush. 

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper, your pace faltering. Blue flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head and pounds you into the couch. The new angle finds that sweet spot inside of you making your eyes roll back as you whimpered. Blue slips a hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles over your bundle of nerves and your vision whites out as an orgasm shatters through you, back arching skywards, breathy moans falling from your lips. You hear blue groan as your walls clenches and spasms around him and before long, he’s spilling into you.

 It takes a few minutes for Blue to recover his strength and he flips the two of you over again. He holds you against his chest, stroking your hair gently as you lay on top of him, quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm. An inexplicable ache settles heavily on your chest as you nuzzle your face into his warm neck, breathing in the scent of his worn out cologne. 

“Why are you here,” your voice comes out breathier and a lot softer than you expect and you blame it on your previous activities. 

Blue stays quiet for a few seconds, and then he says, “You’re not one of them,”

“What?” you look up at him.

“You’re not one of the good guys,” he repeats, “You may be fooling yourself, but you can’t fool me, baby,” he tuckes a stray hair begins your ears, “The gun was within your reach on the table sweetheart, I made sure of it. You could’ve used it to escape me, or shoot me, but you didn’t. You wanted to surrender to me.”

Blue really wasn’t someone to make decisions on speculation alone. He had a compulsive need to always be right, to always have a back up plan. You learned it the hard way, you were still learning about it apparently. Realization hits you just then, and your mouth falls open. “The gun wasn’t loaded, was it?”

“Smart girl,” He chuckles, “But not smart enough,” He traces a finger up your spine, “I just came to say goodbye, by the way,”

“Why?” you frown.

“I need to take a small vacation somewhere,” A small smile spreads on him face like he was imagining something. “You see, the people you managed to put behind bars are gonna blame me for it since I walked away without any charges. Everyone knows we weren’t just auditing the accounts alone in my office. So I need a safe place to lay low for a while. I’m flying off in two hours,” 

“And you’re telling me this because you think I won’t be coming after you? Because, I want to surrender to you?” You throw his words back at him, mocking him. “I will, Blue. I’ll find a way to lock you up,” You are fully aware that you are not in the position to be issuing threats but you do it anyways. 

“I know you will,” His sly smirk tells you he had one more trick up him sleeve. “But you have to catch me first,” His lips descends on your as he kisses you fervently. You kiss him back with just as much vigor, and your entire body feels heavy like lead in exhaustion.

Wait, that wasn’t it. Your breaths become shallow as you struggle to hold onto consciousness. Blue pulls away as your head lolls forwards, suddenly too heavy to hold up right. “Shh, don’t fight it baby,” 

Your muddled thoughts came to one final conclusion. Leave it to Blue Jones to chose the most theatrical way to undermine you. That bastard had drugged you. The last thing you feel is blue gathering you up in his arms before your vision goes black.

---

Blue gently settles you on top of you bed, tucking you into the covers. He placed a soft kiss against your forehead, on top of the small frown you sported even unconscious. His heart thrums at the though of the chase he had planned for you.

You had fire, he’d seen it in your eyes when you cuffed him that night. You’ll go after him, Blue was sure of it. He was counting on it.

“See you soon, babygirl,” Blue kisses your cheek one final time before he leaves.

---

Tags: @yougottakeeponkeepinon​ @anetteaneta​ @darksideofclarke​ @woakiees​

[meltwonu]

can i request a #2 , #6 and #7 cause i feel like its fitting for frat boy wonwoo and like reader being a library kind of girl

2. “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

6. “Would you just shut up and kiss me already?”

7. “You want me to give you your book/phone/item back? Make me.”

note; this is fratboy!wonwoo so this includes dom!wonwoo which includes dirty talk, name calling, degradation, a lil pussy slappin, orgasm denial, creampies and him stealing your panties dkfjsf also this is long bc i’m invested so the rest is under the cut! thank you for requesting! enjoy! 💕

PLAY MY DRABBLE GAME HERE | ASK | MASTERLIST

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“You want me to give you your book? Make me.”

Wonwoo holds the only Art History book in the entire library in the palm of his hands, eyes twinkling with mischief as he holds it above your head. “Well? You want it don’t you?” You face reds at his question, taking it in a completely different direction as you stare back at him.

You were a regular at the library, always using the empty study tables and abandoned study rooms to your advantage. It was quiet and gave you ample space to work in peace. And Wonwoo was always someone you’d seen around since he volunteered there and you couldn’t deny how attractive you thought he was even from the first time you’d seen him. Since then, he always showed up in the nerdiest outfits, glasses perched on his nose bridge as he reshelved books and helped from the receptionist desk.

Wonwoo was kind and helpful, always shooting you a smile as you sat at one of the empty study tables. But things had gotten weird lately. His radiant smiles had turned into inviting smirks, eyes lingering on you longer than need be when you noticed. When you asked for help getting books from higher shelves, he always pressed into you from behind, pinning you to the bookshelves as he grabbed what you needed. His words turned suggestive quickly, a simple “If you want more, tell me.” before he’d turn and walk off.

Curiosity got the better of you as you slipped on your shortest skirt this morning, wanting to test a theory. When you had walked into the library, you’d greeted Wonwoo with a cheery smile and a wave, asking him how his morning was going. He had stared you down, eyes flitting to your short skirt as he gave you a tight lipped smile. Replying with a clipped “fine”, you smiled at him once more before making your way to a secluded study room towards the back of the library. You’d gotten into the groove of work, only getting up after 45 minutes when you needed an Art History book for one of your projects.

Flagging down Wonwoo, you asked him if he could get it for you on the top shelf, his body pressed into yours as he reached for it.

“Well? Do you want this book or not? Hmm?” His question brings your attention back to him as you stare up at him. You’re chest to chest with Wonwoo, back pressed up against the bookshelf as he slots a leg in between yours. “Something tells me you wore this tiny little skirt for a different reason today, pretty girl. Care to share why you dressed like a ‘lil slut?”

“I…I–”

“Oho, cat got your tongue?”

“Would you just shut up and kiss me already!?” The words leave your mouth before you can think, the sly smirk on Wonwoo’s face growing as he slides the book back onto the shelf, fingertips gripping your chin as he tilts your head up. “Hmm, you think you can give me orders like that? That’s cute. But if you’re gonna play with me, there’s gonna be rules. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Wonwoo drags you back to your study room, pushing you inside as he locks the door behind him. You stand with your back against the table as you watch him adjust his glasses.

“Now, those clothes aren’t library appropriate so I’m going to have to punish you for walking around here looking like a little slut. Get on the table.” It takes a second too long for his words to click as you scramble onto the said table, pushing off pencils and books to make room.

He walks over to you once you’re seated atop the table, standing between your legs that are dangling off the side. “A little slow, but you’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” He thumbs the hem of your skirt, fingertips dancing on the skin of your thighs lightly. “I don’t really know what you were trying to prove by wearing this, but I hope you know what you’re in for. Now, I want your legs up on the table and spread for me.”

Scooting back further, Wonwoo helps you prop your legs up so that your feet are firmly planted on the table as he resituates himself in front of you. Without a second to spare, he flips your skirt up, exposing your panties to him. “Interesting. How did you know purple is my favorite colour?” Your knees threaten to clamp shut from mild embarrassment but Wonwoo’s quick, prying your legs open. “I said legs spread.” You whimper, already wet and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

“ ‘m sorry… I just… I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.”

“Is that why you got all dressed up for me today? Couldn’t take it anymore, huh? Such a cock hungry ‘lil thing.” He doesn’t wait for a reply, instead using two fingers to slap your cunt over your panties. You jolt at the feeling and can’t help but clench around nothing as the heat builds in your core. “Look at you, already wet and I barely started touching you. Fuck, you’re such a dirty little slut.” Running his fingers over your clothed cunt, he can feel the wetness already pooling onto the fabric. “You want me that badly, huh?”

For once you’re glad that the study rooms are in the back and hardly used because you can’t help the moans that spill out of you as Wonwoo fucks you. He was quick to slip your panties off, fingers sliding through your folds as he gathered your wetness up, using it to coat his fingers as he worked you open; fingering you until you could take 3 of his fingers. Begging him to just fuck you already, he had obliged, sliding his cock into your warmth untill he bottomed out.  

“Fuck, you’re so tight around me, baby.” Wonwoo groans, fingers slapping your clit. You clench around him every time he does, small cries leaving you at the stimulation. “Ah, W–Wonwoo…”

“Mm? Something the matter?”

“N-no just, feels good…”

“Hmm, I know it does. Your tight little pussy is squeezing me so much, baby. Such a shame I didn’t fuck you sooner huh?” “Mmhmm–ah, Wonwoo right t-there..!!” Your back arches off the table as he hits your g-spot, angling himself better as he makes a mental note. “Fuck, I can feel you get even t-tighter around me. Gonna let me cum inside you?”

“Yes, y-yes please! I want your cum!”

Wonwoo smirks, fucking you faster as he feels his orgasm coming. “You’re just like me, y’kno? Everyone probably thinks you’re a goody-two-shoes but you’re not. You’re a filthy little slut who’d get down on her knees for me whenever I asked. And you’d be good for me, wouldn’t you? Choke on my cock ‘til I cum on your face and make a mess out of you. Fuck, you’d probably let me fuck you anywhere in this library for anyone to see. Everyone would know you’re my little slut.”

Wonwoo’s hips stutter as he cums inside your warmth, his fingertips gripping your thighs tightly as he continues to thrust into you. It feels warm and nice as he fills you up, your fingers curling against the table. He catches his breath as he slides his cock out of you, his fingers quickly pushing his cum back in. “I want you to be good and keep all my cum inside of you, baby.” You shoot him a confused look, brows furrowing. “W-wait, what? But I… I didn’t cum?” He throws you a smirk, fingers leaving your cunt as he uses the soaked digits to slap your clit again. “That’s your punishment, sweetheart. I’ll be back in a few hours to check in on you once the library’s closing. But for now, don’t make a mess.” He picks up your panties off the floor, quickly wiping his wet fingers on the material as he pockets it. Wonwoo adjusts his clothes, tucking himself back in and fixing his mussed sweater vest.

Your legs snap shut as you try to keep his cum inside, the creamy liquid already threatening to seep out. “B-but my p-panties…?”

“What about them? They belong to me now. I mean, didn’t you wear them for me?”

“I, but–”

“But what, sweetheart? I told you, this is your punishment. I never said what exactly it would entail.” You bite your bottom lip, shimmying off the table as gently as you can as you feel his cum already sliding down your thighs. You moan at the feeling, wanting his cock back inside of you already.

“But…what if I can’t wait that long?”

Wonwoo smirks cockily as he corners you up against the table again. “Trust me, I’ll know if you’ve touched yourself without my permission and trust me, the punishment will be worse if you don’t obey me.” You gulp at his words, nodding as you side step him to sit back down at the table, clenching as hard as you can as to not let his cum pool out onto the chair and onto your skirt.

“Now, I gotta get back to work. Be good and don’t make a mess.”