#i actually enjoyed the book a lot more than i anticipated

[singmysoultosleep]

i read rent boy yesterday and am so obsessed with the concept of dally’s murder rap being him roped into a lucrative organ harvesting scheme by some looney old trick but it’s all under the guise of gang activity.

[incognit0slut]

The breaking point

Part 2 of Beyond the Limit (can also be read as a standalone)

Spencer realizes that being dominant doesn’t always require him to be rough, especially when he has complete control over your body.

warnings: (18+, MDNI) soft dom spence because there’s a lot of praising in this one, reader in lingerie, orgasm control or edging, overstimulation, reader gets cockdrunk (idk how to explain it better), a little cockwarming at the end

Words: 4,3k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for a while and i finally finished it, i don’t usually do a part two for my oneshots but…i’m actually tempted to do more

You were a tease—a goddamn tease. Spencer knew he needed to work on his self-control, but it was hard to keep his composure when you had the ability to stir desire within him. It was perplexing, given that there was a time when thoughts of anything remotely sexual never even crossed his mind.

For the majority of his life, intimacy had been a foreign concept. While he occasionally felt a pang of jealousy witnessing everyone around him find love, he managed just fine without it.  He suspected it was partly a defense mechanism, channeling his focus toward other aspects of his life—such as his mother's health, for example—to avoid dwelling on what he lacked.

But then all his beliefs shattered when you came crashing into his life. Suddenly, everything he thought he knew about himself was thrown away. Your presence sparked a fire within him that he never knew existed and he found himself craving the intimacy he had once dismissed as unnecessary.

He wasn't even aware of how touch-starved he was until he met you, and now it was hard to maintain that last thread of self-control he possessed. It wasn't that he didn't want to give in, but rather, he feared the intensity of his own desires, afraid that he might enjoy it more than he anticipated.

Because did he have to be rough with you for him to be satisfied, now that he had once known how it felt like? But how could he indulge in such temptation when you looked so utterly beautiful right now, so delicate, so precious in his eyes?

How could he even fathom ruining your perfection with roughness?

"Spence?" You nervously asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Your confidence was starting to dissipate as his eyes slowly traveled down your body, taking in the lingerie you chose to surprise him. Although this was not the reaction you were hoping for. "Do you not... like it?"

Spencer's gaze lingered on you, his expression was unreadable for a moment before a warm smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"No, no, it's not that," he reassured you, putting down the book he had been reading on the bedside table before you walked into your shared bedroom. He reached his hand out, motioning you to come closer. "It's just... you caught me off guard, that's all."

You approached him cautiously and as you stepped closer, you noticed the tension in his shoulders easing, replaced by a soft warmth in his eyes. His hand found its place on your waist, drawing you closer and you instinctively fell on his lap, your knees dipping onto the bed on each side of his thighs.

Feeling his arousal right between your legs, you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips. "So you do like it," you murmured, a hint of satisfaction lacing your words.

"Like it? Sweetheart, that's an understatement," he replied. His calloused palms traveled along your sides as he took in the way the lace material hugged your curves.

The lilac-colored lingerie set on your body accentuated your figure perfectly. Both pieces were see-through, granting him a glimpse of your chest and lower region. The delicate edges of the top were adorned with more of the soft fabric, cascading over your stomach and back in a gentle, stunningly pretty way.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer whispered as he traced the intricate patterns of the fabric with his fingertips. "Absolutely breathtaking."

His touch sent shivers down your spine. You leaned into him, relishing the warmth and tenderness of his touch as one of his hands moved up your arm before resting behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

His lips touched yours gently, sending a thrill coursing through your body. He nipped at your bottom lip, his touch both teasing and tender and as he sucked on it softly, a low moan escaped you. He then deepened the kiss, his tongue gently pushing into your mouth, and you kissed him back eagerly, your lips moving in perfect sync with his.

When he finally pulled away, you were left breathless, but he didn't stop giving you attention. His mouth made its way down to your neck, his lips trailing soft kisses along your skin and you couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. He then sucked on the spot below your ear, his lips creating a deliciously pleasurable sensation that made you moan softly in response.

You could feel his smile against your skin as he continued to travel further down, his lips leaving a trail of heat along your neck and collarbone. At the same time, his fingers pulled down the strap of your lingerie top, the material gracefully falling down your body, revealing more of your skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered as if it was the first time he laid his eyes on you, even if the two of you lost count long ago. His name slipped from your lips the moment his wide palms were pressed to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and your nipples hardened beneath his touch.

Your mouth hung open in a silent gasp, and your breathing quickened in response when his thumb traced over your sensitive peak, sending electric sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. Spencer watched the way your eyes widened with desire, his own filled with a hunger that mirrored yours. And when he leaned closer, wrapping his soft lips around it, you were instantly gone.

The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, eliciting the most sinful sound you weren't even aware of making. It was like music to his ears, fueling his desire to please you even more. He continued to suck on your skin, giving the same attention to each breasts, his movements growing more fervent with each passing moment.

When he felt your hips bucking against his, he let out a low, guttural groan of pleasure. He softly drew back your nipple, your supple skin following his pull before he released it with a soft pop. Your skin glistened from his saliva, and honestly, Spencer had never seen such a splendid sight before.

The way you were grinding against him over his cotton pants frantically sent a surge of desire coursing through his veins. He could feel the thin fabric of your sheer panties pressing between your cunt, and with each movement, he could see glimpses of soft, bare skin glistening under the light, driving him wild with longing.

A primal need surged within him, a need to devour you, to lose control and indulge in the raw intensity. He craved to run his rough hands along your body, to explore every inch of your skin and claim you as his own. But he couldn't—not when you were the one in control as you sought pleasure in the way your hips moved against his.

So instead, his hands found purchase on your hips, guiding you to move faster. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice thick with desire. "Keep going."

You obeyed, pressing your aching heat against his cock, rolling your hips rapidly as a whimper of his name escaped you. You felt yourself growing hot and needy, your arousal dripping through your panties to coat his flesh beneath you, soaking through fabrics.

"Look at how wet you are," he mused, his voice laced with desire as he observed your flushed state and the evidence of your arousal staining the fabric between you. "Does this feel good?"

Your only response was another desperate moan, your body consumed by the overwhelming pleasure of being with him. What started lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

"I need to feel you," you breathed out quickly, and before he could register what was happening, your fingers were pulling down his pants frantically. Sensing your desperation, he was quick to push the fabric down as his cock sprung free.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you lift your hips above him, taking him by the base with one of your hands while the other pushed the material of your panties to the side. He groaned when you pressed the tip of his cock to your dripping entrance.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his concern evident in his voice. Spencer always made sure you were fully ready, either with his fingers or mouth—or even with your own fingers. But you were already wet enough, and you couldn't wait any longer to feel him inside you.

You nodded eagerly, the need for him overpowering any hesitation. "Please," you begged, your voice pleading and desperate. "I need you now."

Both of you watched in awe as his girth stretched your clenched walls, the sensation of being filled to the brim overwhelming your senses. It wasn't the first time this happened, but it felt like a new sensation each time, and you found yourself instinctively clenching around him, eager to feel him even deeper inside you.

"Fuck," you whimpered, allowing yourself a moment to adjust to his size. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh as you squeezed yourself around him. With a slow, deliberate motion, you lifted your hips, feeling him ease out of you, only to lower yourself onto him again.

The sensation of him sliding back inside you made you gasp, a rush of pleasure washing over you as you took him deeper. His groan reverberated through your body, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you. As his head fell back against the headboard, you couldn't help but whimper, the words tumbling from your lips without much thought.

"You fill me up so good," you confessed, your voice laced with desire as you rolled your hips against him. Your hands slipped under his shirt, feeling his soft stomach clench underneath your fingertips with every upstroke of your hips. "Take this off, baby."

With a low growl of approval, Spencer complied, swiftly removing his shirt and tossing it aside. Without hesitation, your hands trailed over his chest, reveling in the sensation of his smooth skin beneath your fingertips, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch.

He watched you intently, captivated by the raw display of pleasure that painted your features. The way your face twisted in ecstasy, the way your mouth hung open in silent gasps, the way your breasts bounced with every movement—all of it drove him to the edge of his self-control.

As you quickened your pace, he felt his restraint slipping away, the urge to claim you completely becoming increasingly difficult to resist. Each time you clenched around him, it became harder for him to hold back. And as always, you could tell. You could feel the tension in his grip on your hips, the way his fingers dug into your flesh with a possessive urgency.

You slowed your hips, bringing your hand to his cheek, forcing him to look at you. "You're doing it again."

His gaze met yours, filled with a mixture of desire and frustration. He knew exactly what you were referring to. "I... I can't help it. You drive me crazy."

"I know that," you responded, stilling for a moment as you kept him buried deep inside you. "I just need you to do something about it."

He slowly shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," you assured him, your voice filled with confidence as you leaned closer, bumping your nose against him seductively. "Come on, I know how much you want to be in control."

When he didn't respond, you pushed him even further, your lips tantalizingly close to his as you whispered your seductive taunt.

"I know you want more," you teased. "Don't you want to take control? Lie me on my back and fuck me until I can't think anymore? Until I beg you to stop while you use my body over and over again?"

"Don't tempt me," he choked out, his voice thick with longing and restraint.

But you weren't finished yet. "Yeah?" you challenged, your tone daring as you buried your hand in his disheveled, sweaty hair. "Then I dare you to."

You tugged on his roots.

"Fuck me, Spencer." You nipped on his bottom lip. "Fuck me real good."

His breath caught in his throat at your bold words, his heart pounding rapidly. With a shaky exhale, he met your gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter than ever before.

And then, in a sudden surge of boldness, he surprised you, flipping you onto your back as you let out an amused squeal. But your laughter was quickly drowned out by the heat of his lips crashing down on yours.

He kissed you feverishly, with a messy and desperate hunger that left you breathless. He clung onto you as if you were the very air he needed to survive. He was devouring you as if you were the most delicious meal he had ever encountered, and he savored every moment, every sensation, swallowing your desperate moans.

And then he pulled out and you whimpered at the loss but any hint of disappointment vanished as you watched him shed his last piece of clothing. Then with deliberate slowness, he reached for your panties, his eyes locked on yours as he dragged them up your leg, savoring the sight of the damp fabric clinging to your skin.

When he finally discarded it on the floor, he wasted no time in grabbing one of your legs. With deliberate tenderness, he began trailing soft kisses along the inner part of your thigh, each gentle press of his lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your breath quickened as you watched him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I'm not going to be rough," he whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes never leaving yours as he planted soft kisses right at the edge of your drenching heat, teasingly close to where you craved him most. He then crawled over your body, settling himself between your legs, his gaze locked on yours.

"But I am going to use you," he murmured, his words sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you. "You'll let me do that, won't you?"

As he hovered above you, his weight supported by his arms, you watched a strand of his outgrown hair fall over his eyes. With a gentle touch, you reached out and tucked it behind his ear, a soft smile playing on your lips as you nodded in response.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me you're mine to use."

You met his gaze, your own eyes dark with longing and anticipation. "I'm yours," you whispered, and when you felt his tip pressing into your entrance once again, you gasped. "I-I’m yours to use."

In one swift motion, he filled you again with a hard thrust that had you arching your back, a strangled moan escaping your lips as pleasure surged through you. "S-Spence..."

"Good girl," he praised, his words sending shivers down your spine as he kissed your cheek. His hips began to roll into you, setting a rhythm that drove you wild. "My good, pretty girl."

You whined in response, the sound music to his ears as he continued to thrust into you at a steady rhythm. He relished the way you responded to him, the way you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to use the way you were satisfied, to use the way you wanted him, to take you to the brink of ecstasy.

He wanted to use you in every way possible, to make you his in every sense of the word.

Spencer never considered himself a possessive person, but when it came to you, he wanted to be the one you surrendered to completely. And in this moment, he had never felt more in control. It was intoxicating, the power he held over you, the way you willingly gave yourself to him.

That was why when he felt you clenching around him, knowing you were so close to your peak, he stopped. He wanted to draw out this moment, to savor every sensation, every sound you made, every breath that escaped your lips. He wanted to draw out your pleasure until you were begging for release, until you were completely and utterly his.

"Why—" you gasped. "Why did you stop?"

He smiled down at you. "Because I want to make you feel good, Angel," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "And I want to take my time doing it."

Your head fell back, and you couldn't help but bite your lip to suppress a moan. His use of the term Angel always had a way of melting your resolve, and you knew he was fully aware of the effect it had on you.

"Be patient," he chided before burying his head in the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin gently. Then, he resumed moving his hips, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. It felt incredible, but you couldn't shake the desire for him to fuck you harder.

"More," you cried out, feeling as if you were in a deep haze.

"Yeah? Spread your legs wider then."

You whimpered at his simple command, your shuddering legs gradually spreading a few inches wider. It was becoming harder to breathe from the way he was pushing you into the mattress, but you welcomed the pleasure, craving more of him.

Your hands clawed at his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails as you desperately sought something to hold onto. The intense pleasure coiled tightly in your gut, making you feel as if you were gasping for air while your head swam with overwhelming sensations.

Your moans became more fragmented with every stroke of his hips, your thoughts clouded by the pulsating ache between your legs. All you could focus on was the overwhelming sensation building within you, traveling along your body. You were so close—and then it stopped.

It simply stopped right at the edge, and you couldn't feel anything but a raw need. It was incredibly frustrating as you caught him smiling down at you. You whined and bucked your hips, chasing the tight warmth you had so suddenly been denied.

Your breath came out in short, ragged gasps. "You're evil," you managed to say, your voice trembling with need. "I-I was so close..."

"Too soon," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed his lips to yours. "Just imagine how good it'll be once I finally let you come."

Spencer then slowly pulled away, his eyes tracing every detail of your trembling form—the way your mouth was slackened open, the way your hair sprawled across the sheets, the way your eyes fluttered closed yet struggled to remain open. He noticed them glistening with unshed tears, on the verge of falling, and a pang of guilt tugged at his heart.

He knew he was pushing you to your limits, but he couldn't help himself. He was simply using you, just like you asked him to. But seeing the tears welling in your eyes, a wave of tenderness washed over him, and he leaned down to kiss them away, whispering soft words of comfort.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured. Although his words were spoken softly, there was nothing gentle about the way he continued to fuck you. "You can take it. Hold on a little bit longer, I promise."

A choked sob escaped you as he pressed soft kisses to your cheeks, murmuring soothing words. One of his hands reached between you, settling on the lower part of your stomach before pressing down gently as he felt the outline of cock moving inside you. He let out a groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.

"That’s it, Angel," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "You're taking me so well."

You whimpered almost pathetically as everything started to blur. You were a sweaty mess, both of you were, his skin gliding along yours effortlessly as he continued to thrust into you. The sound of wet skin slapping against each other filled the room, so sticky, so messy, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

The throbbing between your legs was starting to burn, but at the same time, it felt so good—the way he was stretching you, the way you could feel him moving in and out of you. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, it was all too much but also not enough.

"S-Spence..." you whined, your head spinning with pleasure, almost too delirious as drool seeped down the corner of your lips. "Pl-Please, I-I can't—"

A soft chuckle escaped him as he watched you struggle to form coherent words. "Alright, alright, I got you," he murmured reassuringly. "On three now. Can you be a good girl and come at the count of three?"

You nodded weakly. "Yes, yes," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths.

"That's my girl," he praised, his voice filled with satisfaction. "One..."

Your breath hitched as anticipation built within you. Obscene wet noises filled your ears as he continued to fuck you, and with each number, his thrusts grew more deliberate, more intense.

"Two..."

You whined and he swallowed your moans, capturing your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. You couldn't form any coherent words. You couldn't even think. It was too fucking much and you were on the verge of your breaking point.

And then, on the final count, he drove into you with such force that it sent you hurtling over the edge, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"Three," he whispered as he pulled back slightly, a string of saliva connected your parted mouths.

You gasped, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure consumed you. Your senses overwhelmed, your vision blurred with white-hot intensity, and tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of overstimulation.

T-Too much—You can't. You fucking can't.

The sensation never seemed to end and you found yourself surrendering to it,  your mind going blank. It was as if you were intoxicated by the heady sensation, your senses dulled and heightened all at once, drunk on his touch. Your body felt so wet, so sensitive, so overwhelmed by the sheer force of your climax. 

And when you thought it couldn't get any more intense, he proved you wrong by rutting his hips even harder with so much force as he chased his own high. He tucked his head in your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he moaned into your ear. With a few final thrusts, he drove into you deeply, his body tensing as he released himself inside you.

You were tired, so overwhelmingly spent, and as you both came down from the high, you gasped and trembled, your body finally relaxing from the pent-up tension. Your eyes felt glassy and unfocused, blinking slowly as you registered his murmured praises against your neck and shoulder.

He gently pulled away, and you winced as you felt him still throbbing inside you. Slowly, he searched for your eyes, his gaze filled with tenderness, and sighed in relief when you looked up at him with a tired yet blissful smile on your lips.

He smiled softly, relieved by your response. "You're okay."

You nodded, still feeling a bit dazed. "Hmm," you murmured, running your fingers along his damp hair. "I'm more than okay."

He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You did so well," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "I'm so proud of you."

You giggled. "Me? I never thought you could be tempted to do that so easily."

He chuckled softly, brushing his nose against yours. "You have that effect on me," he confessed. "Besides, it's hard to resist you."

"I am pretty irresistible, aren't I?"

"Absolutely," he replied as he brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face. He shifted his weight and started to pull out, only for you to wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in place.

"No, no," you pleaded. "Stay inside me for a while."

He paused, looking down at you with a smile. "We need to clean up."

"And we will." You ran a hand over his shoulder. "Just... give me five minutes."

He sighed, his resolve melting under your pleading gaze. "Alright, five minutes," he agreed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But then we really need to clean up."

You responded with a soft hum, snuggling closer to him as he shifted toward the empty space on the bed. With a gentle gesture, he pulled you on top of him, enveloping you in his arms as you sprawled across his body. 

You let out a sigh, tucking your face into the crook of his neck with the rhythm of his heart beating against your own. And as you savored the sensation of him still pulsing inside you, you smiled peacefully—you have never felt so complete.

I'm tempted to turn this into a series of one-shots where he and Reader explore new kinks together... or like how they try to navigate their relationship. I'm really, really tempted.

[kquil]

JAMES POTTER | JOINT SCHEDULE

request. : Hey can you do some more ice hockey player James imagines? I love them sm! —@prongsbandit

sum. : you booked the university's ice rink to practice your routine for an upcoming competition but so did the university's ice hockey team, whose captain screwed up the timings

g. : fluff ; modern au ; ice hockey player james ; figure skater reader ; shy reader ; university au ; jock james potter ; supportive figure skating coach ; supportive hockey team

length : 1.6k

In preparation for an upcoming figure skating competition, you were dedicated to getting in as much practice as possible. Thankfully, you were able to book the university ice rink for two months in the lead up to the competition. Your regular practice sessions were every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday for five in the late afternoon until seven. It was a bit excessive but you wanted to win. Many of your friends view you as someone sweet and docile but also hard working and quite the perfectionist. What they don’t realise is how competitive you can be behind the scenes. Everytime you cancel plans, you usually excuse yourself with the ‘I’m busy’ reasoning that your close friends readily accept, believing that you were working through papers and research articles for uni classes when, in actuality, you were spending time in the rink. 

Today, you had brought with you your portable stereo to go through the routine with the music over and over again, gradually perfecting the appearance of your more grandiose moves as well as the sequence of your steps on the ice. It felt good being at this stage of your development, the entirety of your routine has been choreographed already and had been revised by your coach, who suggested some minor changes but approved it overall — you knew what you were doing, it was just the case of perfecting things now, something you were talented at and even enjoyed. 

The main focus for today’s session was the polishing of the big jumps and ambitious spins of your routine. It was a little tiresome and you don’t believe you’d be able to cover all of them for this session but you never really expected to in the first place. Your only saving grace was that you had some time to apply light makeup earlier in celebration for the new figure skating set you were gifted by your parents. It was an all black set that paired a sleek skort with a long sleeved turtle neck top that had lacing to decorate the open back and thumb holes in the sleeves as the hem reached half way up your palms. You liked feeling pretty in practices, it always helped to encourage your self-confidence so there was always a little spike in your performance. The praises of your supervising coach was all you needed to confirm this fact. 

“Brilliant, my girl! Again!” Vera sang her high praises from the stands and helped you control the music whenever you wanted to repeat a particular part of the choreo. For this routine, you had settled for something more elegant and based the choreography around the ‘Waltz of the Flowers’ by Tchaikovsky. The soundtrack made you miss the time you did ballet until you were fifteen before eventually falling in love with figure skating. A lot of your routines tend to be based around the elegance of ballet in addition to the complicated turns, spins and jumps that encompassed figure skating; your coach, Vera, loved how you were able to combine both sports in such a seamless way. 

The music kept playing even after you had repeated the skid spiral so you naturally flowed into rehearsing more of your choreo, allowing muscle memory and the music to guide you over the ice as you subconsciously waited for Vera to pause the music and ask you to repeat something that didn’t look quite right. Polishing up the routine was filled with more critiques than any stage of creating your final performance so your anticipation for Vera to pause the music, repeat a move and provide additional tips lingered in the back of your mind as you flawlessly spiralled into one of your most difficult spins — a one-handed beillman. 

“Beautiful Beautiful!” Vera praised, clapping as you gradually spun out of the position before abandoning the routine and grinning widely to yourself, proud and giddy for finally nailing the transition and spin. 

“Vera!” you shout across the ice and over the music, cheering with your fists raised to the air in victory, “I did it!” It was then when you realised that Vera’s clapping was accompanied with an entire audience of applause and your panicked eyes fell upon a grinning hockey player standing beside your coach, behind them was a team of hockey players, some whistling and whooping in between their applause. 

As you tried to catch your breath and suppress your bashfulness, you gathered that Vera had neglected to reply to the soundtrack to discuss something with the hockey player, and so, it seems that the entire hockey team just saw a glimpse of your routine. Eventually, Vera paused the music and motioned you over, looking to discuss something. 

“Wh-what’s wrong?” you ask upon reaching the sidelines, fiddling with the hem of your sleeves as you avoided the hockey player’s eyes. He was dressed in most of his equipment, only missing his headgear, and was sporting the dopiest grin on his face. “It appears as though the university hockey team had booked the rink to practise for a match happening early next week, however, there was some miscommunication over the timings and schedules,” you furrow your brows as Vera explains the situation before shyly glancing up at the hockey player beside her, who had unruly dark curls and glimmering hazel eyes behind a pair of cute glasses. It seems your simple acknowledgement of him was enough to prompt his self introduction. 

“I’m James,” he reaches out his gloved hand for you to shake, quickly taking it back to rip of his glove off before reaching to shake your hand once again, “James Potter, Captain of the Hockey team,” behind him the rest of the hockey players wave at you, some with friendly grins and others sporting a mischievous smirk as they regard their captain’s behaviour around you, “Vera explained that you were practising for a competition and also booked the rink in advance but since you got here early, we’ll put the decision to you,”

You raised a brow and tilted your head slightly, prompting him to continue, “make a decision on what?”

“On whether to kick us out and continue your practice or finish your practice early and allow us to have the rink for drills exercises and plays,” James finished, grinning at you with no malice and insinuating that he wouldn’t hold any ill-will over either outcome. 

“Oh!” your cheeks heat up under his warm voice, amiable manner, pretty eyes and charming dimples and you couldn’t help but stare for a moment before eventually shaking your head and giving him your resolve, “I’d be happy to give you the rink, I’ve covered a lot of ground already so I don’t mind,” James’s smile reaches his eyes once more and he nods. 

“You heard the lady boys, what do we say?” he shouts back to his team, his voice commanding attention and is as firm as his build, encouraging an ensemble of ‘thank you’s to sound from behind him, “Thank you very much,” James finishes and nods to his boys, signalling them to set up the rink and get ready for practice while you also take the time to shake off your nerves and walk off the ice, where James greets you once more.

“I hope you have a good and productive practice,” you wish him and offer a warm smile, your heart finally settled down to a semi-heightened beat. He’s really quite handsome…you think to yourself but quickly look away to, again, keep from staring too long. 

“Thank you and thanks again for letting us have the rink,” James takes your hand and lifts your knuckles to his lips — an act of gratitude that has a dangerous heat creeping up your neck to occupy your cheeks once more, “you’re very beautiful on the ice, by the way. I’m sure you’ll smash it at the competition, your competitors don’t stand a chance,” the two of you share pleasantries and more smiles before you finally make your way to the locker rooms to change with a straighter back and a lighter heart. 

What an encounter. 

“She practises every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday from 5 to 7pm,” Vera says out of nowhere as she approaches James, who stares off to where you had disappeared. 

“I’m sorry?” 

A stone cold look crosses over Vera’s face, “avoid those times at all costs,” she warns, her russian accent suddenly thick and intimidating, “my student doesn’t need any distractions,” the statement makes James raise a brow in question, “her competition is on the 14th November, held in the city community rink, and it starts at noon, don’t be late,”

Suffice to say, James wasn’t late to your competition, in fact,  he was early and he brought the entire hockey team with him to support you. You won second place but felt like a gold medalist when the hockey team hollered the loudest for you at the awarding ceremony and lifted you onto their shoulders with the congratulatory flowers James brought you in your arms and your silver medal around your neck.  To return the favour, you attended their next hockey game and made sure to shout the loudest whenever their team scored and eventually when their team won the match.

“When do you think our captain’s finally gonna grow some balls and ask out his ice skating ballerina?” Sirius whispers to his taller brunette friend.

“Let them take their time,” Remus replies, the two staring as James throws his arm over your shoulders and you wrap your own around the back of his waist, “everyone already thinks their dating anyway so they’ll get it eventually,”

“Wait! So they’re not actually dating yet?” Peter asks with a surprised face as the other two laugh, “But I swear I saw them kissing by the locker rooms before the game earlier!”

a/n : i know nothing about ice skating or ice hockey but i tried my best! i'm sorry if this is not very realistic. i also hope that the request was fulfilled to a satisfactory standard despite the long wait, i'm really sorry for that by the way (┳Д┳) nevertheless, i tried my best and i hope this made you happy, darling, thank you for the cute request (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

navi.

taglist : @ghostgardn @fredweasleysjumper @rosalyn-s @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms

[beelmons]

44. “I saw you naked once.  And now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

45. “How are you so oblivious?  I’m trying to tell you I’m fucking horny!” with spencer also he would literally memorize your body

Mini skirts. Tight shirts. Clevage. Accidental falls on his lap. Caresses on the thigh. You had used every move on your book, albeit questionably outdated, to get his attention, and that wasn't even through out the week, it was just this morning.

You couldn't get Spencer Reid to look at you, let alone sleep with you. Regardless of how badly you wanted that. One would think with his ability to read body language he would have already noticed that you were practically oozing pheromones in his direction, like an animal in heat, and yet he continued to drift his sight whenever you bent over to obnoxiously pick up the eleventh pen you had dropped since you got to the office. Everyone else enjoyed the show, everyone but the one person it was directed to.

Needless to say, your mood took a hit. Scratch that, you were straight up sad. You had heard chatter from Penelope and JJ that he liked you, and you decided to go for it only to find out, allegedly, that he didn't have the least interest in you.

You mopped around the rest of the day, and you had changed into more comfortable clothes you carried on your go-bag; what was the point on looking hot if he wasn't even gonna notice? Time flew by and night fell, everyone went home on time, thank god, but you chose to stay behind. The only thing worse than being horny for your uninterested coworker was sitting at home alone masturbating to the thought of him.

"You're not leaving?" his voice startled you a bit, forcing you to look up from the file you were working on.

"No." you answered dryly, uncharacteristic of you "Got a lot of stuff to do."

He stood there with his usual awkward demeanor, the same one you found utterly adorable and annoyingly attractive. His hands fiddled with the strap of his bag, deciding whether to simply let you be or intervene in your clearly bad mood.

"Are you okay?" he asked doubtfully.

"You know what? I'm not." you, somehow, gathered the courage to say, you stood up from your desk and closed the folder annoyedly, your lower body rested against the edge of the surface, your arms folded over your chest "Do you even like me?" you asked.

"What? Of course I like you!" he blurted out desperately, dropping his bag to his side to hurriedly stand in front of you "I consdier us to be very good friends."

"That's not— " you had to stop yourself, there was no point in threading lightly around Spencer, you knew that "I have been trying to get your attention the entire day, and you won't even spare me a glance."

"I can't look at you while we're working! I immediately get—" he also had to force his voice to stop and lower, clearing his throat in the process, it was late but not that late, people could still be around. He took a deep breath in, trying his best not to perish out of embarrassment at his confession "One time, Hotch asked me to go get you for a briefing. You were in the locker rooms, it was an accident, I swear, I didn't expect to see you naked, but I did." his face had tinted a lovely red, and his hands were having a hard time keeping still "I can't stop thinking about it. If I as much as look at you, I will get excited."

You swallowed an anticipated knot in your throat, and a pulsating sensation took over your lower body.

"I'm pretty sure there's a way I could help you with that." you extended your arms to have them laying on his shoulders, promptly wrapping them around his neck.

"There is, actually, you could start buttoning your shirts properly." he said, and you had to roll your eyes.

Instead of saying something else, you tugged him forward to let your lips land on the side of his jawline. He lost his balance for a second, having to press his palm against the desk for support. Soft moans were coming out from his lips at the licks and gentle sucks you would take on his skin trailing down his neck.

"How oblivious can you be?" you muttered against his skin before moving to his mouth, your teeth dragging his bottom in a playful nibble "I'm trying to tell you that I'm fucking horny."

Your words barely had left your mouth before he was attacking it with his own. His hips pressed forward and you could feel the harded bulge rub against your thighs.

It was the rustling of his belt being pulled open what let you know you had finally cracked Spencer Reid, and you were in for a good night of being rewarded for that.

[skrrts]

the bus at 11:17PM (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x yunho ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, crush on a stranger ✧ word count: 1,6k

every thursday, you wait with a handsome stranger for the bus at 11:17 pm. today, you intend to finally approach him.

a/n: how to write drabbles? this was meant to be short but oh well. thank you yuyu for all those pictures

As you stepped outside of the building, your gaze went up to the night sky, and you admired how the rain clouds had vanished, the moon shining boldly, fighting the fake lights of the city.

“I guess I won’t need that one,” you said, dropping the small umbrella into your bag and stretching a little.

Taking a long language class every Thursday after work was still challenging, your lazy nature asking why you couldn’t just go home early instead of trying to learn a language you had been interested in for years.

All your attempts to teach yourself with YouTube videos had failed horribly.

“Y/N, are you sure you do not want a ride home? I really do not mind taking a detour, it’s late.”

Yeosang’s pretty face appeared next to you, leading you to look back at him.

You shook your head, smiling: “No, it’s okay. I like taking the last bus; it’s nice to ride without all the crowds I deal with every morning. And besides, I really do not live too far away, it’s just ten stops, and I will be right at my apartment complex.”

There was a small hint of worry. The two of you sat next to each other in language class, and he had been a great help, far more advanced than you were after years of failed self-study.

“Alright, get home safely. I’ll see you next week,” he bowed and waved before turning around to follow the other students to the parking lot.

You were a little surprised to learn you were the only one who did not have a car. It just didn’t feel convenient in the middle of a large city, not to mention the costs tied to it — money you’d rather invest in something you enjoyed.

Then, there was another reason. As you walked to the nearby bus station, you could feel your heartbeat increase and held your breath in anticipation as you stepped around the corner.

It was on the day of your first language class that you saw him for the first time, waiting for the same bus as you. The tall and handsome stranger looked up and flashed you a sweet smile before focusing back on his phone that day. You felt silly and shy for glancing at him the entire time, even when you reached your station and had to go.

Then, you told yourself it was fine — who didn’t do that with a stranger? But to your delight, he was there every Thursday, waiting in silence not too far from you.

His presence was comforting. The street was quiet and empty, but with him there, you felt safe. It sounded strange, considering you didn’t know anything about this man. Maybe it was his tall frame or the way he was so relaxed, giving you a feeling of security.

He was always dressed casually but still elegant, and you wondered if he worked somewhere around here, spending hours imagining what kind of job he held.

Your language class was about to end in three weeks, and you knew you were likely running out of time. If you intended to learn at least his name, you finally needed to find the bravery to approach him.

Your heart skipped a beat as you could see him standing there once again! He was looking good today too. White and black suited him so well, but this was the first time you saw him wearing glasses. Did he need them? Was it a choice of style?

Your bus always left at 11:17 PM; you had about fifteen minutes to change your life!

Fine, you just tried to hype yourself up to finally find the courage to do something.

Unlike all those other Thursdays, you decided not to sit down but instead stood quite close to him, looking casually at your watch like you actually just wanted to check the time.

While you used a backpack because it was simply more convenient, you carried one of your language books around today, hoping it would make you look just a little more interesting.

All those scenes from your favorite romance series flashed into your mind, where the protagonist just stood cutely at the station and the romantic interest would approach them just like that.

It would be ideal, but there it was again — your imagination running wild, just like when you thought how nice it would be to learn another language but didn’t manage without the help of a teacher.

You gave him a quick glance, but for some reason, the stranger was more engaged with his phone than usual.

He didn’t even give you that sweet and quick smile you had gotten used to because he always greeted you like that when you joined him, waiting for the bus in silence.

Did he ever think about that stranger who only showed up here on Thursdays? Was he maybe quietly asking himself what you were doing here so close to midnight?

Maybe it was better not to know; you would just be disappointed.

As you were lost in thought, you did not realize how your time was already up — not until the bus arrived, a little faster than usual. When it braked, the rain puddles splashed at you, covering not only your book but also your clothes.

The soft noise of surprise was followed by a hiss, and you stared at your outfit.

You intended to approach him today, so you had put more effort into your appearance, wearing some of your favorites pieces, which were now covered in dirty rainwater.

For a moment, you fought back tears, now embarrassed by how you had imagined your life turning into a silly romance movie when you should be more mature than that.

What made you think this would work?

“Are you okay?”

The voice next to you was foreign, but when you turned around, you saw the stranger looking at you with worry. The bus driver hissed to get in if you didn’t want to stay.

Your crush gave the old man a small glare before he quickly smiled at you, indicating for you to get in. After a moment, you blinked but hurried inside. The doors shut, and the bus station was slowly disappearing.

The stranger was standing beside you, pulling out a package of handkerchiefs from his bag.

“Here, it probably won’t help much with the clothes but the book.”

You stared at it, blushing.

“Oh, yes! Thank you!”

You accepted it with a slight bow and tried to clean off your book, you felt his gaze still on you. As you looked up, he offered a soft smile.

Realizing you did not answer his question yet, you said, “I am okay. It was my fault… I should not have stood so close to the street.”

But he was quick to shake his head.

“No, he drove too fast; it wasn’t your fault. He should be more mindful. Here, let’s sit.”

Your cheeks were red, and you weren’t sure if the heat was from being shy or embarrassed, but your body just acted, and the two of you settled on two of the seats.

“I have seen you a few times; I guess you visit the language school nearby? Ah, I am Yunho, nice to meet you. I believe you get out at Parkroad Station?”

You were surprised to learn that he did pay attention, not only to what kind of book you carried or that he did notice you after all, but also which station was your destination.

“Oh yes, I am almost done though; there are just two more lectures and it will wrap up. I was thinking about taking the next level entry though!”

Your words were rushed, and he chuckled.

“Learning a new language is good fun! I’d encourage it if you are enjoying yourself.”

He really was sweet, trying his best to cheer you up although you were strangers. Finally, you offered him your name and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

This wasn’t how you had imagined approaching him, but now you were just glad the two of you finally talked.

“I … noticed you too, but I admit, I was too nervous to say hi. It was nice; I felt safer waiting for the bus so late, knowing I’d not be alone,” you mumbled softly.

Yunho seemed surprised before smiling back.

“Same here. We always have a team meeting on Thursdays, but I am the only one without a car… it’s nice to know I am not alone taking the bus.”

“Oh, I feel that! Everyone at my language class takes a car except for me.”

The two of you laughed, but you realized your station was coming up soon.

Yunho looked at you before opening his bag again and pulling out his business card. You weren’t surprised to see he was head of his department — he really seemed to be kind and smart.

“It’s late, and you should get home, dry up, but maybe … we could meet for a coffee? You could tell me more about your lessons and how you like the school. I was thinking about studying a new language myself.”

You carefully put it between the pages of the book.

“I will make sure to text you my number once I am home… and I’d love that. I’m off on weekends, whenever you are available.”

“Same here. I will call you tomorrow?”

The two of you looked at each other with a smile before your station was announced, and you pushed yourself up.

“I am looking forward to it,” you bowed, and this time, you were quite sure to see how his ears were just a little red.

As you stepped outside of the bus and turned around, Yunho had moved over to a window seat; he was waving to you until you were no longer in sight.

“Wait… is that a date?!”

[sturnslcver]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ virulent love (series) ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

— chris sturniolo x fem reader —

— warnings, drinking, smoking, pills!

a/n: couldn’t figure out what i wanted to do for chris and y/n’s meet cute so it is heavily based off of a real life book i read, but ive already finished the rest of the story/chapters and it is all my own original ideas! enjoy! :)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚.°: ₊˚ ୨

i creep up the stairs in search for my brothers apartment door. this place seems more like a historic hotel than an apartment complex, with its expansive columns and marble floors. when arlo said i could stay with him after hearing about another one of moms manic episodes, i had no idea he lived like an actual adult. I thought it’d be more similar to the last time i visited him, right after i graduated from high school, back when he had first started dealing. however, that was four years ago and a two story skimpy complex ago. that’s kind of what i was expecting. i certainly wasn’t anticipating this orderly area in the middle of downtown massachusetts. I spent all of last week packing up everything i own from mom’s house back in florida. luckily, i don’t own much. but after taking a five hundred mile drive alone today, my exhaustion is pretty obvious in my reflection. my hair is in a unsecured knot on top of my head, held together by a pencil, since I couldn't find a hair tie while I was driving. i reach into my purse to find chapstick, hoping to recover my lips before they end up as weary-looking as the rest of me. I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my messages to arlo.

i can't remember which apartment number he said was his. it’s either 1372 or 1374. maybe it's 1372? i come to a stop at 1372, because there's a guy passed out on the floor of the hallway, leaning against the door to 1374. please don't let it be 1374. i find the message on my phone and cringe. it's 1374. of course it is.

i walk slowly to the door, hoping I don't wake up the guy. his legs are sprawled out in front of him, and he's leaning with his back propped up against arlo’s door. his chin is tucked to his chest, and he's snoring. "excuse me" i say, my voice just above a whisper. he doesn't move. i lift my leg and poke his shoulder with my foot. "i need to get into this apartment." he rustles and then slowly opens his eyes and stares straight ahead at my legs. his eyes meet my knees, and his eyebrows furrow as he slowly leans forward with a deep scowl on his face. he lifts a hand and pokes my knee with his finger, almost as if he's never seen a knee before. he drops his hand, closes his eyes, and falls back asleep against the door. great. arlo won't be back until tomorrow, so i dial his number to see if this guy is someone i should be concerned about. “y/n?" he asks, answering his phone without a hello. "yep," i reply. "made it safe, but i can't get in because there's a drunk guy passed out at your front door." "thirteen seventy four?" he asks. "you sure you're at the right apartment?" "positive." "are you sure he's drunk?" "positive." "weird," he says. "what’s he wearing?" "why do you want to know what he's wearing?" "if he's wearing a yellow shirt and goggles on his head he’s probably the janitor. the janitor in our complex is homeless" this guy isn't wearing any type of goggles, but i can't help but notice that his jeans and black hoodie do fit him very nicely. "no goggles," i say. “can you get past him without waking him up?" "i’d have to move him. he’ll fall inside if I open the door." he’s quiet for a few seconds while he thinks. "go back downstairs and wait in the lobby until someone can let you in" i sigh, because ive been driving for six hours, and going all the way back downstairs is not something I feel like doing right now.

“just stay on the phone with me until I'm inside your apartment" i like my plan a lot better. i balance my phone against my ear with my shoulder and dig inside my purse for the key arlo sent me. i insert it into the lock and begin to open the door, but the drunk guy begins to fall backward with every inch the door opens. he groans, but his eyes don't open again. "it’s too bad he's wasted," i tell arlo. "he’s not bad-looking." "can you just get your ass inside and lock the door so i can hang up." i roll my eyes. i’m hoping things will be different between us now that mom’s in the hospital. she was always turning us against one another. for example, by the time i was eleven, i’d saved up three hundred dollars so that i could finally get a pet hamster. she ended up stealing it and spending it on pills. she told me arlo stole it.

i wrap my purse around my shoulder, but it gets caught on my suitcase handle, so i just let it fall to the floor. i keep my left hand wrapped tightly around the doorknob and hold the door shut so the guy won't fall completely into the apartment. i take my foot and press it against his shoulder, pushing him from the center of the doorway. he doesn't budge. “arlo, he's too heavy. i’m gonna have to hang up so I can use both hands." “no, don't hang up. just put the phone in your pocket, but don't hang up." i look down at the oversized shirt and leggings I have on. “no pockets. you’re going in the bra." arlo laughs as i pull the phone from my ear and shove it inside my bra. i remove the key from the lock and drop it toward my purse, but it misses and falls to the floor. i reach down to grab the drunk guy so I can move him out of the way. “okay" I say, struggling to pull him away from the center of the doorway. "sorry." i somehow manage to prop him up against the doorframe to prevent him from falling into the apartment, and then i push the door open farther and turn to get my things.

something warm wraps around my ankle. i freeze. i look down. “let go!" i yell, kicking at the hand that's gripping my ankle so tightly I'm pretty sure it might bruise. the drunk guy is looking up at me now, and his grip sends me falling backward into the apartment when I try to pull away from him. "i need to get in there” , he mutters, just as my butt meets the floor. he makes an attempt to push the apartment door open with his other hand, and this immediately sends me into panic mode. i pull my legs the rest of the way inside, and his hand comes with me. i use my free leg to kick the door shut, slamming it directly onto his wrist. “fuck!" he yells. he’s trying to pull his hand back into the hallway with him, but my foot is still pressing against the door. i release enough pressure for him to have his hand back, and then i immediately kick the door all the way shut.

i pull myself up and lock the door, the dead bolt, and the chain lock as quickly as i can. as soon as my heart rate begins to calm down, it starts to scream at me. my heart is actually screaming at me. in a deep male voice. It sounds like it's calling my name. arlo. i immediately look down at my chest and pull my phone out of my bra, then bring it up to my ear. "hello!" i wince, then pull the phone several inches from my ear. "i’m fine," i say, out of breath. "i’m inside. i locked the door." “okay" he says, relieved. "you scared me. what the hell happened?" “he was trying to get inside. i locked the door, though." i flip on the living-room light and take no more than three steps inside before i come to a halt. i slowly turn back toward the door after realizing what ive done. “arlo?" i pause. "i left a few things outside that i need. i would just grab them, but the drunk guy is still trying to get in, so there's no way I'm opening the door again. what do i do?” he’s silent for a few seconds. "what did you leave in the hallway?" i don't want to answer him, but i do. "my suitcase...and purse." “why the hell is your purse outside?" "i also left the key on the hallway floor." he doesn't even respond to that one. he just groans. "i’ll call chris and see if he's home yet. give me two minutes." "wait. who’s chris ?" "he lives across the hall. whatever you do, don't open the door again until i call you back." arlo hangs up, and i lean against his front door. i’ve lived in massachusetts all of thirty minutes. my phone rings. i slide my thumb across the screen and answer it.

"hey." "y/n?" "yeah?," i reply, wondering why he always double-checks to see if it's me. he called me, so who else would be answering it who sounds exactly like me? "i called chris." “good. is he gonna help me get my stuff?" "not exactly," arlo says. "i kind of need you to do me a huge favor." my head falls against the door again. i have a feeling the next few months are going to be full of inconvenient favors, since he knows he's doing me a huse one by letting me stay here. "what?" i ask him. "chris kind of needs your help." "the neighbor?" i pause as soon as it clicks, and i close my eyes. "arlo, please don't tell me the guy you called to protect me from the drunk guy is the drunk guy." arlo sighs. "i need you to unlock the door and let him in. let him crash on the couch. i’ll be there first thing in the morning. when he sobers up, he'll know where he is, and he'll go straight home." i shake my head. "what kind of apartment complex is this? should i prepare to be groped by drunk people every time I come home?" long pause. "he groped you?" "groped might be a bit strong. he did grab my ankle, though." arlo lets out a sigh. "just do this for me. call me back when you've got him and all your stuff inside." "fine." i groan, recognizing the worry in his voice.

i hang up on arlo and open the door. the drunk guy falls onto his shoulder, and his cell phone slips from his hand and lands on the floor next to his head. i flip him onto his back and look down at him. he cracks his eyes open and attempts to look up at me, but his eyelids fall shut again. "You're not arlo," he mutters. "no. i’m not. i’m your new neighbor." i lift him by his shoulders and try to get him to sit up, but he doesn't. i don't think he can, actually. how does a person even get this drunk? i grab his hands and pull him inch by inch into the apartment, stopping when he's just far enough inside for me to be able to close the door. i retrieve all of my things from outside the apartment, then shut and lock the front door. i grab a throw pillow from the couch, prop his head up, and roll him onto his side in case he pukes in his sleep. and that's all the help he's getting from me. when he's comfortably asleep in the middle of the living room floor, i leave him there while I look around the apartment.

the living room alone could fit three of the living rooms from arlos last apartment. arlo said he'd be back in the morning, so i’ll leave that to him. normally, i would be nervous about the fact that there's a stranger in the same apartment I'm in, but i have a feeling i don't need to worry. arlo would never ask me to help someone he felt might be a threat to me in any way. which confuses me, because if this is common behavior for chris, i’m surprised arlo asked me to bring him inside.

i head back to the living room to turn out the lights, but when ive rounded the corner, i come to an immediate halt. not only is chris up off the floor, but he's in the kitchen, with his head pressed against his arms and his arms folded on top of the kitchen counter. he’s seated on the edge of a bar stool, and he looks as if he's about to fall off it any second. i can't tell if he's sleeping again or just attempting to recover. "chris?" he doesn't move when i call his name, so i walk toward him and gently lay my hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. the second my fingers squeeze his shoulder, he gasps and sits up straight as if I just woke him from the middle of a dream. or a nightmare. immediately, he slides off the stool and onto very unstable legs. he begins to sway, so i throw his arm over my shoulder and try to walk him out of the kitchen. "come on." he drops his forehead to the side of my head and stumbles along with me, making it even harder to hold him up. we make it to the front of the couch, and i start to peel him off me. "okay, chris. whoever you are. just go to sleep." he falls onto the couch, but he doesn't let go of my shoulders. i fall with him and immediately attempt to pull away. i gently push him back into the couch, yanking my hand away. i lay his pillow down and urge him onto it. "go to sleep, chris," i say gently.

his eyelids are heavy and watering when he drops to the pillow. he grabs my hand and hums. his eyes fall shut again, and he releases a heavy sigh. i stare at him silently, allowing him to keep hold of my hand until he's quiet and still. i pull my hand away from his, but i stay by his side for a few minutes longer. even though he's asleep, he somehow still looks as if he's on edge. his eyebrows are furrowed, and his breathing is sporadic, failing to fall into a peaceful pattern. when he makes another half conscious effort to reach for my hand, i finally give in. i place my cheek on top of our hands and lean into the couch. i fall asleep on the floor next to him.

@sturnsmadison @ryli3sworld @sunnysturniolos @ariologyy @sturncakez @sturnsxplr-25 @nickmillersn1gf

[ambrozjas]

reader x gang request 🫶

Reader that can crochet making a sweater for the gang? (separate)

You don’t have to do and if you do, thanks 💓

the gang x reader that can crochet ꨄ︎

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

sorry i haven’t been posting as fast lately, this one took some time and i put MUCH LOVE into these blurbs, so i hope you guys enjoy xoxo 💕

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

some curse words, alcohol, a mention of a threading needle, let me know if i missed anything though !!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

“what’s this?” DARRY asked, holding up a maroon crocheted sweater that he found in a box under your bed.

your head snapped to the sweater, remembering the night you spent hunched over a table, weaving a needle delicately through the yarn, sewing them together.

“oh, uh.. it’s a sweater?” you mentally facepalmed, of course it was a sweater.

darry just chuckled and turned it around, analyzing it and every little fiber of its material.

“i mean, did you make it?” he asked, blue eyes gazing at you. your face heated up under his stare, darry always seemed to hold this forward eye contact that nobody could beat.

“yeah, made it f’you actually.” you said, continuing to iron darry’s work shirt and directing your attention to cleaning.

a silence passed between you two for maybe ten seconds before darry let out a small, “ain’t that somethin’?”

“shut up.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“hey SODAPOP, let me talk to you for a sec.” you said, walking in front of him with your hands behind your back. he was on the couch, his attention now on you rather than the television.

“what is it, darlin’?” he inquired, a smile being brought on his face just from the sight of you. the corner of your eyes crinkled as you grinned, “made’cha something.” you said.

“that so? what is it?”

you brought your hands out in front of you, only to reveal in your hands a small crocheted pony, it had a golden brown yarn for its coat and black for its mane and tail, resembling sodapop’s old horse mickey mouse.

you knew how much he loved that horse, and how devastated he was when it got sold. even if it was definitely an ornery horse. so you crocheted him a little version of his old stable pony, so they could meet again.

soda’s eyebrows furrowed and the corners of his lips downturned a bit, before he looked back up at you. “you made this?” he asked. you nodded and rolled back and forth on the balls of your feet, anticipating his reaction.

“do you.. like it?” and before you could say more, soda pulled you down onto the couch to hug you.

“‘course i like it, thank you.” he said, rubbing your back when you hugged him back.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you groaned as you rested your head on PONYBOY’s bed. you were sitting on the floor, already starting to work on a sweater for your him (although, he didn’t have to know that part), but couldn’t settle on a design.

“hey pony, can you do something for me?” you asked, craning your head to look back at your boyfriend who was laying down with a book in his hands, as usual.

“yeah sure, what is it?” he said, his head bobbing from the movement of mouth moving while his chin was on his chest.

all you did was hand him a pencil and throw him a sheepish smile, cocking your head. “what?” he asked, setting the book down and taking the pencil. “what do you want me to do with this?” he asked.

“need you to draw somethin’ for me hun.” you turn to his desk, opening one of its drawers and finding a blank sketchbook before unceremoniously tossing it to him.

“what do i draw?”

“anything.”

“well cant you—,” he paused, taking a second to look at you batting your eyelashes and pouting at him, “—fine.” he mutters, leaning over the book and sketching away.

you smiled brightly, watching him work. he glanced up at you, unable to hold back a small smile himself. because even if you didn’t realize it, he knew that you had him wrapped about your finger.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had met up with JOHNNY in the lot again, him still frazzled about his home life. it was getting too much at this point, and all he wanted to do was seek comfort in you.

you held him as his shoulder shook with silent sobs, his hand covering his mouth in order to muffle most of them, but your heart still broke as one or two came through.

“i just—,” another cry, “i just can’t anymore.” he said. johnny’s arm were wrapped around you tightly, like you’d let go at any moment and leave him.

your hand rubbed his back soothingly, occasionally coming up to his head and cradling it as if he was a baby. until he cried himself out.

after a while, you both ended up on your backs just facing the stars. you talked about stuff, dreams of moving away from tulsa or a better life. but then you remembered something.

“oh! shit..” you mumbled, sitting upright and reaching over for your bag. johnny sat up onto his elbow, looking at you in confusion. you rummaged through your bag, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth in focus before you finally found it with a little ‘aha!’ leaving your lips.

“what’s that?” he asked, watching you pull out a knitted sweater.

“it’s a sweater i made for you.” you shuffled over and handed it to him, neatly folded and smelling pretty like your house.

“if you don’t like it—“

“no.” said johnny. “i like it.” he looked up at you. god, he looked perfect. the moonlight hitting his face just right, giving him a blue hue where the light shined on him and his hair.

you did what any reasonable person would be. you grabbed johnny’s face, giving him enough space to pull away, and leaned in to kiss johnny under the moonlight.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

you had spent all night working on this sweater for DALLAS. you were sat at your desk with only a small dull lamp illuminating your work for you. your hands were starting to shake and you growing antsy with how long you were sat for.

dallas, as per usual, was bumming it at your house. he was next to you, laying on your bed arrogantly with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and an arm behind his head.

dally watched you work, his head turned slightly where he could watch you and look around the rest of the room from his peripheral. the way you were just so focused was satisfying to him.

you tapped your foot, you wanted to take a break and lay with dallas but you knew that if you didn’t continue with the sweater, you wouldn’t wanna do it later.

finally, you sighed and smile, holding up the sweater so dally could see.

“y’know i’m not gonna wear that, right?” he said, in the middle of trying to blow a smoke ring.

you just hummed, attention mostly on putting all your supplies away instead.

“yeah you will. i know you will.”

“and how d’ya know that?” he said, turning his head all the way in your direction.

“because i speak dallas winston.” and to that, dallas scoffed and looked away, because he knew it too. he’d wear that sweater in private, but he’d never admit to anybody.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

TWO-BIT took another swig of his booze, watching mickey mouse on television. the grainy audio traveling to the hallway where you were walking into the living room from.

“hey, look at this.” you told him, sliding up next to him on the couch. he looked at you for moment, alternating between watching the tv and you.

you showed him the crocheted sweater, hoping he would like it. his eyes were glued to your tv for a while, before you nudged him in his ribs. he shifted away and giggled a little bit, before looking down at the sweater, his lips parting in shock.

“oh m’glory baby, this is amazin’.” he slurred, taking it into his own hands and staring at it, setting down his bottle.

you leaned forward and looked at how many bottles were on the ground.

“how many drinks have you had?—“

“nevermind that! i’m looking at a masterpiece darlin’..” he said, you didn’t miss how his voice broke a little at the end.

“are you cryin’, keith?” you chuckled, putting your hand on his shoulder. he must’ve gotten a bit emotional with how many drinks he’s had.

“no! i’m just—..” he hunched over and and buried his face into the sweater, taking in the scent of your lotion faint on the yarn.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“awh, hell naw! i’m not wearin’ that!”

“yes you are! get over ‘ere!” you yelled, running after STEVE with the sweater in your hands.

he scurried away, sliding around all the hallways in order to get away from you. you two both laughed as you tried to catch him, and finally you had him cornered.

he was stuck in the corner of your room, eyes darting for any possible way out. you carefully stepped towards him, holding the sweater up by its neck. “nowhere else to go, baby. it’s time.” you grinned, before running at him.

but before you could grab him, steve charged and picked you up, throwing you onto the bed.

you squealed as he blew raspberries in your neck, laughing loudly along with you too.

“just—! just put the goddamn sweater on, will you?” you asked, trying to get through one sentence without giggling. steve held his face in your neck as he thought for a sec.

“can i get a kiss in return?” he lifted his head to look at you, flashing you those beady brown eyes and batting his eyelashes dramatically.

you placed a quick peck on his lips and did your best to push him off of you, throwing the sweater so it’d land on his face. “now put it on.” you laughed softly, and with that laugh, steve would’ve done anything.

when soda came over later that day though, he definitely took notice.

“wow steve, very fashionable today.”

“shut th’fuck up, man!”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ eeek!!! sorry this took so long, all the of gang hcs take me a bit, love :( but i like how this turned out! sorry that sodapop was the only one that didn’t involve a sweater, i just thought it’d be a cute idea 😭🫶

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

[hotchs-big-hands]

dbf & corruption link Hotch with plus-sized reader who didn’t think he would ever be interested in HER and is so naive about it omfg the gif u reposted fuckkk I can’t stop thinking about it

YEAHHHH YOU GET IT

Okay I didn't realise I was gonna turn this into a whole fic JWFJEKFKDKFKRK (I'm writing this midway through the fic rn whoops 🫣)

Reader is early 20s and lives at home with her dad. I cba writing too much abt it in the plot sorry lol

Dbf!Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader|Minors dni NSFW|5.9K words

Warning(s): SMUT, Corruption kink, fingerfucking, sir/daddy kink 👀, almost getting caught

(d/n) = dad's name

It wasn't often you met your dad's friends, they only really managed a few meet ups a year with how busy people's lives were these days. And so when your dad approached you to inform you he was attending a meal out with said friends you were happy for him. But you didn't expect him to offer you to join him.

"My buddies have been wondering how you're getting on," he had said, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. "You should come along, sunny. The guys are bringing along their partners but eh, you know me. As big of a bachelor as one can be."

You rolled your eyes with a chuckle, but within your stomach you felt it coiling with anxiety. And you knew he could tell from the change of expression on his face.

"Hey... you don't actually have to come along if you're not comfortable. I know you don't really, uh, enjoy these sorts of things."

"No, no! I'll come along. Um, I just don't really remember any of your friends by name." You said quickly. He chuckled and shook his head, and you knew if he was closer he would have ruffled your hair affectionately.

"Fair enough, sunny. That's a relief actually, given that I already booked for you to come along as well."

With a gasp, you thumped your dad lightly.

"Dude!" You cried, making him laugh and step back a little.

"Well, we're aiming to meet up around seven tonight so be sure to be ready by half six." He grinned at you and you felt yourself returning the expression. It was nice seeing your dad looking a lot happier these days.

By the time you were dressed up ready for the meal that night you were inwardly panicking. Had you overdressed? Underdressed? Why did it even matter what his friends thought? Oh god, having to eat in front of his friends?! Needless to say, you were an absolute mess. Your dad grabbed one of your hands to squeeze it comfortingly as the two of you sat in the back of a taxi on the way to the restaurant and your lips curled up slightly in appreciation. It would be okay. There was no need to panic.

The ride was all too short to calm your nerves and at this point you felt jittery. It was too late to back out now though, and you quickly climbed out of the taxi when your dad walked around to open your door for you, mumbling a quick thanks and smoothing out the skirt of your pretty dress. You hadn't gone with anything flashy, opting to wear a mid-thigh length white dress that was covered in tiny blue flowers with a dropped neckline, some pretty knee-high socks and white sneakers. It made you feel good, your large curves complimented your outfit and you felt less inclined to shy away right now. With a quick adjustment of the strap of your bag, you followed your dad into the restaurant.

Oh... it was certainly more posh than you anticipated. Had your dad's friends always been this fancy?! Those coils of anxiety only tightened more as your dad spoke to the waiter about the booking. And then you were both escorted to a large table where six other people were already seated.

"Well look who it is! (D/n), you're looking well!" One of the men exclaimed cheerfully. You vaguely recognised the faces around the table, but not enough to know them by name. The man's eyes flicked to you and his eyes widened. "Goodness! Is that your little one?! You're all grown up!"

Your cheeks felt hot as you quickly sat down beside your dad, smiling shyly at the outspoken friend.

"Yeah, it's me. I don't think you guys have seen me since I was... eleven?" You conversed quietly. One of the wives of a different friend leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"You look gorgeous, sweetie!"

Beside you, your dad could feel you trembling slightly and chuckled, waving his friends off.

"Alright, alright let the girl be."

As the attention drifted from you and the conversations changed to the mundane of friends catching up after a long time, your eyes drifted around the table. Your brows slightly pulled together. There was an empty seat next to you on your left. You gently nudged your dad, who turned to you.

"What's up, sunny?" He asked quietly. You offered a quick smile of reassurance.

"Um, is there meant to be someone else here?"

His eyes flicked to the empty chair, then back to you.

"Ohhh right yes! You remember Mr Hotchner, right? He's running a little late but he should be here soon."

No, you didn't quite remember Mr Hotchner. It had been years since you'd heard anything surrounding that name. All you knew was he had a very involved job that took him all over the country. As you sat deep in thought your dad's voice cut through as he made a humming noise, mouth full of beer. You glanced at him, noting he was looking over your shoulder at someone. But before you could turn you heard the chair next to you slide on the polished floor and shuffle as someone sat down in it. A wave of an alluring cologne flooded your senses and you slowly turned back to facing the table, heart racing. Then you heard him.

"I'm sorry I'm late, we just got back from a case. Barely had time to freshen up at home before coming here." Mr Hotchner spoke smoothly, voice deep and sensually gentle. You dared to glance next to you and you clenched your pillowy thighs together. Fucking christ, he was sexy! With the corner of his mouth turned upwards, the man oozed assurance and control as he greeted his friends around the table. Your eyes couldn't stop wandering over his features, the scattered beauty marks on his mature skin, the eyebags under his dark eyes, the prominent slope of his nose that you quickly had to move on from to not let your mind wander too much... His hair was short with a few stray wisps flopping onto his forehead and you could have sworn you could spot a few streaks of grey in it too.

And then he turned to look at you and your father. He raised a brow, feigning surprise.

"Oh hello, Mr (L/n). It's been a very long time since I saw you last. And this must be..." his eyes drifted to you, his lips twitching.

"(Y/n), sir." You managed to say, feeling hot and flustered. You dad chortled.

"My lovely sunny is here to humor her old man! Don't spook her."

"Spook me?" You squeaked. Mr Hotchner chuckled and shook his head.

"He's referring to me profiling people as part of my job. It tends to freak people out." He explained to you in that delicious voice of his. "And please, call me Aaron. Calling me sir makes me feel old."

Aaron didn't look even the slightest bit annoyed, his smirk only growing as his eyes travelled up and down your figure. You shivered.

"I- I see... Could you tell me more about this, um, profiling stuff? I don't really know what you do for a living." You admitted. Aaron had ordered a bourbon, taking hold of the glass and sipping some of the deep orange coloured liquid and setting the glass down again.

"Oh? Well, seeing as you're curious..."

You barely remembered the meal you had ordered, more engrossed in the conversation you were having with this man. He was so fascinating, passionate and when the topic of his son came up his smile softened and he pulled his wallet out to show you a photo of the cute boy. That... hm. You didn't want to think about the fact that he had already been through something as involved as having a child with someone. There was no place for you to be thinking about this man any more than a daughter of his best friend should.

But here you were, spending the night chatting to the man effortlessly whilst your heart fluttered. It was only when your dad tapped you on the shoulder that you realised the evening was coming to an end.

"Hey sunny, I know you're having a great chat with Aaron there but it's time to get going." He said with a chuckle. Your eyes widened slightly and you scowled, shoving him with your shoulder.

"Say less dad, I beg." You shot back quickly, cheeks flushing as you followed along with him pushing away from the table and standing up. Your hands smoothed out your dress, making sure all was in place again and you shuffled closer to standing next to your dad. It was when Aaron rose up slowly from his own seat with an air of grace that you realised you had to crane your neck a bit to look him in the face. The corner of his mouth twitched at the slight widening of your eyes when he straightened up and you dipped your head quickly.

"Don't worry, I'll be sure to try see you again. Although, I'm not certain on when that would be." He spoke, eyes focused on you. Your dad reached forward to shake his hand, seemingly oblivious to what was happening.

"Whenever you're back in town Aaron, you're free to come visit, my pleasure." He shook firmly, but Aaron was barely focussed. With an unwavering eye contact, his smirk widened. You could feel your legs trembling slightly under his fiery gaze.

"Oh, the pleasure is mine."

When their hands dropped, Aaron turned to you and offered to shake your hand as well, his hand smothering yours when you hesitantly reached out to take it. He gazed down at you, his thick lashes framing his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Until next time, (Y/n)." He said quietly and then turned around and walked away. Your dad raised a brow at you as you watched the older man retreat but merely chuckled once under his breath.

"Come on you, taxi's on its way." Your dad pulled you from your daze and you blinked, cheeks feeling warm for being caught staring. With a huff, you slapped your dad's shoulder when you noticed the growing grin on his face.

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up."

Over the next couple months, you saw Aaron briefly as he passed by in between cases. Each time, no matter for how short of a time, he would stop to chat and get to know you a little more. And every time you felt your crush grow stronger and stronger. But suddenly, he stopped showing up. You never heard from him, not a peep. Humiliatingly, when you idly asked your father if he had heard from the man he showed you the communications he had had from the last time Aaron had been in town to now. To say the least it left you feeling crushed and stupid.

Another month flew by after that before you saw Mr Hotchner again. For the first couple weeks you were secretly hopeful he would show up again, checking up every time you returned from work. But he never showed. And it... well, it didn't feel good to miss someone you had only met properly once and had a couple smaller conversations after that with. Maybe he knew you had a stupid crush on him and was put off from showing up. He had no reason to want someone like you, after all. By the sixth week since you'd seen the man last you'd forced yourself to move on from being hopeful.

And then when you returned home from work one evening you noticed an unfamiliar car parked at the end of the driveway. Tired, you paid it no mind and trudged up to the front door and let yourself in with your key. You shuffled into the house and locked the door behind you, then made a move to enter the living room.

"Hey, dad? I'm home." You called out. There was a scuffle of feet and the very same man appeared with a grin.

"Ah, there you are! We have a guest over, as you probably could tell." He said cheerily and you chuckled.

"Mhm, well I'll just go and change upstairs. Be back in a sec."

With a ruffle of your hair from your dad, you rushed upstairs and decided to take a shower to wash the exhaustion of the day away. After you'd dumped your bag on your bed, you grabbed your towel and a fresh set of lounging clothes to lay out on your bed and made your way to the bathroom which was down the hall. Avoiding looking in the large vanity mirror, you stripped and stepped under the warm water of the shower once you'd switched it on.

"Mmh.." you groaned as the water sprayed down your achy muscles. For a moment, you simply stood there with your eyes closed as you basked in the soothing sensation. A moment later you lathered your plush body with your favourite soaps, taking care to glide your hands over your every curve. Idly, you thought of him, of those hands of his. You switched the water to cold.

Feeling clean and relaxed, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped your towel around yourself. Now all there was to do was return to your bedroom. As you crossed the hall, you heard the tap of footsteps making their way up the staircase. As sneakily as you could, you peeked to see who was ascending and a little squeak escaped you against your will. Still just as devastatingly handsome as the last time you saw him, Mr Hotchner was gaining closer and closer to your location and with a quick jump of action you scurried the rest of the way to your room and all but slammed your door shut.

Your chest heaved, adrenaline pumped through you and shakily you towelled yourself off and redressed in the fresh clothing. Maybe it was better if you changed, you thought as you looked down at the slightly more fitted tank top and shorts you were sporting now.

"No, don't be ridiculous." You mumbled to yourself and after hanging your towel up to dry you forced your legs to move towards your bedroom door and back out to the hallway. It was when you made it to the top of the stairs he called out to you.

"Oh, (Y/n). I'm sorry, I didn't realise you were exiting the bathroom earlier." Aaron said smoothly, startling you to spin on your axel towards him. Shit, had he seen you?!

"Um, it's fine. No harm done." You mumbled in response, shifting your weight from one hip to the other under his dark gaze. His brow twitched.

"Right."

Much to your dismay, he was by your side quicker than you realised and the two of you descended down to find your dad. With every step, the back of Aaron's hand would brush against the side of your arm accidentally, causing goosebumps to spring up across your skin. What were you to say to this man now?

"It's...it's been a while since you were last in town." You said finally, internally wincing and wishing you'd stayed quiet. The man beside you hummed.

"Had an onslaught of back-to-back cases. This is the first time my team and I have been able to catch a break. And... well, we won't get into it just yet." Aaron responded, his exhaustion barely suppressed behind his words. You wanted answers, to know why he showed up now or all times. Of what he wouldn't get into. Instead, you made a barely audible noise in response.

Glancing at the man you realised he was full on frowning now and you cleared your throat, chest aching.

"Oh! I see you found her then, huh?" The sound of your dad's voice startled you and you quickly stepped away from the older man beside you. Rounding the corner, your dad appeared wearing a jacket and shoes over his clothes, confusing you.

"Dad? Where are you going?" You asked.

"Just going to the store to grab some food."

Aaron frowned and stepped forward, stuffing his hand into his pocket to grab his wallet.

"Here, let me head to the store or at least pay for the inconvenience." He said but your dad huffed and straightened out his jacket.

"No, you're our guest, Aaron. Now grab yourself a drink and relax, buddy."

Shaking his head but smiling, Aaron reluctantly stuffed his wallet away and raised his hands in defeat.

"Next time is on me, (D/n)."

"Deal." Your dad grinned, then he shifted his focus to you. "You be a good host now, got it?"

You grimaced.

"I mean I don't mind going, he's here to see you anyway so.."

"Nonsense, I'm here to visit both of you." The man beside you said, of which your dad chuckled.

"Well there you go, he said it himself. Now I'm going out so we're not waiting too late having dinner."

You scoffed at his words but inwardly your heart was pounding. He was seriously leaving you home alone with Mr Hotchner?! Your eyes flitted to the man, who was seemingly paying attention to your father as he moved towards the front door. It was only when you heard the slam of the door that it truly sunk in; you were home alone with the man you'd grown an embarrassingly big crush on while simultaneously feeling an unjustified anger towards.

On shaky legs, you shuffled towards the kitchen to grab a drink and calm your nerves. Just as you grabbed a glass from the cupboard he spoke.

"Are you alright?" Aaron's voice startled you once again and automatically your hand let go of the glass cup, a crash following as it smashed into glistening, sharp shards. You'd barely gasped when Aaron appeared crouched before you, picking larger shards up immediately.

"I'm sorry." He uttered, snapping you out of your startled trance. You crouched down as well as you shook your head vigorously.

"No, it's okay. It's my fault-"

You looked up and froze, realising your faces were far closer than you'd anticipated. He was frowning, then he straightened up rapidly to dump the shards of glass in his hands in the trashcan.

"Please, leave the clean up to me. I was the one who startled you. Besides, you haven't got shoes on right now. So, can you hop up on the counter top?" He asked you, his tone more firm than you'd heard before. It made your lower lip jut out. You made a noise of acknowledgement, straightened up and braced your palms on the counter top behind you to help yourself onto it. Aaron had turned back to you by this point, a wash of satisfaction traced over his more alert expression at the sight of you safely away from the shards on the ground.

"Vacuum?" He simply said. You winced.

"O-oh.. um, it's in the storage under the staircase."

With a nod, Aaron swiftly left the room, his footsteps echoing through the house. God, could you feel anymore embarrassed than you did already in that moment? He had to clean up after you because you were incapable of functioning around him. You wished you had a crush on someone nearer your age, at least they wouldn't find you so childish as you suspected Aaron did. With your head hanging low you didn't even notice him re-enter the room, not until he padded towards you carefully and set the vacuum down.

"Hey... it's alright, just an accident. I didn't mean to scare you." He said softly. You sniffled and shook your head.

"S'fine. I'm okay." You mumbled. He paused for a moment, then placed a hand on your knee.

"I'll just quickly clean this mess up, alright sweetheart? I'll be with you as soon as I can."

Your head shot up at the pet name, wet eyes wide as you studied his face. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, despite the concerned furrow in his brow.

"There you are. Just sit tight, don't want any glass to hurt you."

You watched as Aaron set up the vacuum cleaner and, crouched again, he hastily but thoroughly removed the debris from the floor. When he was satisfied, he unplugged the machine and lifted it up, the muscles in his arms bulging in his neat dress shirt. Your eyes followed him, but dropped away when he glanced your way.

"Um thanks, Mr Hotchner." You uttered and made a move to slide off the counter top. And then one of his long legs pressed against your shin, willing you to stay in place.

"Ah, ah, ah wait there." He muttered.

You quivered and shuffled back onto the counter top properly. What on earth..? You watched him leave again, swinging your legs nervously. Surely he had got rid of all the glass, right? You were unable to ponder for long when Aaron returned again, eyes on you as he approached. Your brows creased.

"Um I'm sure I can move, right? You got all the glass."

He hummed, stopping in front of you now, gaze still unwavering.

"Can't be too careful now, can we?" He said with a little smirk. You swallowed thickly.

"I..."

"May I talk to you about something?"

Your eyes trailed over his face, noting on an emotion you hadn't spotted upon first inspection. Slowly, you shook your head.

"Um yes, you can, Mr Hotchner."

He puffed air out of his nose.

"You don't need to be so formal with me, (Y/n)."

You dropped your gaze.

"Sorry, can't help it." You managed to say, feeling shy and silly. He leaned one hip against the counter beside you, crossing his arms against his broad chest.

"Don't apologise, sweetheart." He shifted his weight, now a little closer still to you. His scent enveloped you, it was soothing. "I... wanted to apologise for disappearing for a long time." He finally said. You shuddered.

"Um, it's okay-"

The sound of him clearing his throat silenced you and rendered you unable to do anything more than stare wide-eyed at him. He hummed and raised a brow.

"Sweetheart, you do know I can tell when someone is lying, right?"

Fuck.

"Mr Hotchner, sir I- I'm not lying, It's okay-"

Aaron moved suddenly, caging you in by placing his hands either side of your wide, plump hips and stared you down.

"Tsk. Don't be naughty by doubling down on lying." He gazed through his thick lashes now, leaning his face closer to yours. His scent overwhelmed you now and you bit back a whimper. "Come now, I upset you and I want to make things right."

You squeezed your eyes shut and gripped onto your shorts tightly, balling the fabric up in your tight fits.

"F-fine. I just... why did you stop visiting all of a sudden?" You wrinkled your nose a little and huffed. "God, I sound like a fucking weird-"

"No. Allow me to explain."

You exhaled quietly, not expecting him to cut you off like that. He sighed and lifted his hands up to rub his face.

"I... well, I had to distance myself from you. Not because I don't enjoy seeing you, it's more the opposite. I have feelings for you which I most certainly should not have, not as a friend of your father." He said, fumbling his thumb and pointer finger together.

You froze.

Was this really happening? Your heart felt like it was racing, your stomach coiling as you stared at him.

"I- Mr Hotchner, you..."

Aaron grimaced and shifted his weight, ready to step back from you.

"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I knew this was a bad idea to tell you, but I just thought you should know why I had started avoiding you." He said sincerely, then dropped his arms and turned his body.

You didn't know why you did it, but your hand shot out and you grabbed his shirt.

"-No! Don't- don't go!"

Aaron's breath hitched from your outburst, but he also didn't try to pull away from your touch either.

"(Y/n)..."

You felt warm, dropping your gaze whilst your fingers messed with the expensive fabric of his shirt.

"I- I don't want you to leave. You didn't make me uncomfortable." You mumbled. The man waited for you to continue speaking as you opened your mouth and closed it a few times. "I, um, I just wasn't expecting you to say you were interested in me."

Your eyes flicked to his face and you sucked your lower lip between your teeth at the furrowed expression on his face.

"You thought I wasn't interested in you?" Aaron's brows raised and he stepped a little closer towards you. "Sweetheart, I don't tend to talk to people outside of my close circle much at all, and, admittedly, I don't often visit people very often. But I just had to see you again."

His confession made you feel strange in a way you couldn't pinpoint on. Not necessarily bad, but a little unsure. Your eyes met his beautiful dark brown ones.

"Mr Hotchner, I don't see why you-"

"Call me that one more time and you'll be calling me sir instead." He cut you off sternly and you gasped. His left hand moved to rest on the counter just barely brushing against the outer side of your thigh and he leaned towards you, his face almost close enough for the two of you to kiss.

"I want you, sweetheart. I've spent the last few months trying to clear you from my thoughts," He paused to let out a small sigh. "However, you remain embedded within the foundations of my mind and I've come to accept this wholly. But just tell me if you don't want this and I will never bring this to you again, I promise."

Your eyes trailed over his face, tracing the creases and lines of age and you longed to feel them under your fingertips. You grabbed onto his arm.

"I-I want this... please. I haven't been able to stop thinking about you too." You confessed with a shy smile. Aaron chuckled through an exhale of relief and he began to close the gap between your lips and his.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Desperately, you pressed your lips to his and moved your hands to grip onto his broad shoulders. Responding to you, Aaron's hands moved to grab onto the squish of your hips, digging into them as he pulled you ever closer towards him. Now chest to chest, you whined against his mouth and instinctively, your legs parted enough for him to slip between.

All too soon, you parted for oxygen, your chest heaving and straining under your lounging tee. Aaron brushed his nose against yours sensually, his thumbs stroking your hips.

"I estimate your father will be gone for forty-five minutes at most." He murmured and you whimpered.

"Y-yes, maybe..."

"Sweet girl, I want to make sure you know how I feel, truly."

Your hands tightened their grip on the shirt.

"H-how?"

He chuckled, pressing a light kiss to your lips.

"If you'll let me, sweet girl, I want to pleasure you. We'll have to be quick though, at least this time round."

This time, this time. You felt light headed in the best way.

"W-what do you wanna do?" You hesitantly asked him. Aaron slid his hands to the expanse of your thighs with a hum.

"You don't know how much I wanted to slip my hand up your dress that night we met to touch your pretty pussy, sweetheart- "

"M-Mr Hotchner!" You squeaked, cheeks flushing from the dirty confession. A deep rumble reverberated through him and one of his hands lightly slapped your thigh. You jolted, but he held you in place.

"That's it, little girl. I don't want to hear any other title other than 'sir' from you now until I say so, is that clear?"

You nodded. Another slap, slightly closer to your inner thigh. You gasped out.

"Y-yes sir!"

Satisfied, Aaron hummed and grabbed onto your thighs and, with a hint of a smile, he pulled you closer to the edge and spread your legs wider. You yelped, hands grasping onto any part of him you could to steady yourself and he chuckled whilst pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth.

"Mhm, gonna let me take a look, sweetheart?" He murmured against your skin, fingers dancing along the waistband of your shorts. You whimpered.

"I-I-" Fuck, you didn't know what to even say. You'd done minimal things with others before, but they were underwhelming experiences and you preferred to close that chapter of your life. But here you were, sprawled out on the kitchen counter with your father's friend who was more than twice your age, trying to process what he had asked you.

Aaron brushed his nose against yours, bringing you from your racing thoughts.

"Aww, don't know what you want, sweet girl? It's alright, let daddy help you." He cooed. Almost immediately, your body spasmed with the way he addressed himself and he huffed out a quiet laugh. "You like that, huh? Like the thought of calling me daddy?"

You whimpered, hips rolling against his with need.

"Uh-huh, I do."

"Say it then, I want to hear it. Then I'll give you anything you want."

Your eyes widened at the commanding tone he used. Your pussy twitched.

"I- I do, daddy. Wanna call you daddy really badly."

"Mhmm.." Aaron pressed his lips to yours again and your hands gripped his shirt again. You could feel the prominent bulge in his pants against your clothed slit now, subconsciously grinding yourself against it. With a low growl, Aaron pulled his lips from yours sharply and his hands grasped your thighs to pin you in place. You whined, trying to push back and feel the friction against your pussy again.

"Behave, little girl. Now lift your butt up for me." He commanded you and, desperate for his touch, you propped yourself up on your elbows to raise your ass from the counter top. You vaguely heard him call you a good girl before he slipped his finger tips into the band of your shorts and, with a swift pull, he removed them. You squeaked, automatically closing your legs but Aaron growled, tugging your plush thighs apart again. Your chest heaved, arousal flaring within you as you realised he was staring directly at your panties. His mouth twitched.

"Pretty panties on such a pretty girl."

You whimpered when he let go of your right thigh to slide his thick fingers over a wet patch on the crotch of fabric. Your hips bucked, you hadn't realised just how pent up you were.

"D-daddy- please!" You pleaded and he cooed at you with a smirk.

"Want daddy to play with your little pussy, huh? We'll have to be quick if you wanna cum."

You nodded eagerly, grinding your hips against his fingers eagerly.

"Mmh- yes, sir!"

"Good girl. Hold your legs spread for me."

Hooking your hands underneath your knees, you trembled as Aaron moved his right hand to pull your panties to the side, revealing your slick, puffy pussy to him. He hummed in approval, ghosting his fingers over your folds and gathering some of your juices on the tips.

"You're so wet, sweetheart. Is this all for me?" He asked softly. You wiggled your hips a little.

"Y-yeah, daddy~ only for you..."

Aaron groaned as he parted your folds to reveal your hooded clit and dripping entrance.

"Next time I want to eat you out, sweet girl. You're fucking divine looking." He rumbled, swiping his thumb over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips bucked immediately, Aaron hummed. "Gonna fingerfuck you this time, that sound nice, huh?"

"Mmmh, yeah daddy, need it!" You whimpered, at this point just desperate for anything. Aaron kissed you roughly, the sounds of both yours and his lips moving against one another made you squirm. But you gasped out when he slipped his thick middle finger into your entrance, taking you by surprise. And with a smug grunt, Aaron slid his tongue against yours to deepen the messy kiss. One finger became two, sliding in and out of your sopping wet hole and stretching you around the two digits.

The edge of his palm massaged your throbbing, little clit as he curled the fingers upwards inside you, searching for the spot that would have your toes curling. A sudden burning pleasure spread through your lower abdomen and you moaned against Aaron's mouth. You felt his lips curl into a smile, smug as he began to thrust the two fingers up inside you in an unbreaking movement. You heard it then, the messy, gushing sound of your pussy squelching in time with the rapid thrusts and you bucked up into it, feeling the burning pleasure begin to build up. You couldn't kiss back anymore, mouth fallen open now with every whimper and cry as the thrusts increased in speed. Aaron bit down onto your lower lip, then pulled away with a wet kiss.

"You're fucking clenching around daddy's fingers so well, sweetheart. You close, huh? You gonna cum for me?" He coaxed you, the hand that had originally been holding your panties to the side now pressed down on your plush stomach, leveraging his other hand's movement. You sobbed and writhed, eyes fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

"G-gonna cu-um! Wanna cum, daddy!"

With a grunt, Aaron's fingers moved blindingly fast, your pussy's squelches echoing in the kitchen along with your wails. He pressed his lips to your neck.

"Fucking cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, that's a good girl. Cum." He growled at you. And as your pussy began to flutter and clench around his fingers he ripped them from your hole and instead brushed them over your almost neglected clit. It was almost instantaneous then, the arch of your back, the roll of your eyes, moaning brokenly as you cummed hard.

And then you heard the keys jingling in the lock of the front door.

"Fuck-" Aaron hissed, pulling his hand away and quickly grabbing your shorts so you could pull them back on again. You were shaking, struggling to pull the garment of clothing back on so you could slip off the counter top. You heard running water, spying Aaron washing his hands and when you met his gaze the two of you giggled, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"G-go up to the bathroom!" You whispered, gesturing to the prominent bulge in his crotch area. He huffed, but grinned and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

"We'll continue this another time, sweetheart." He whispered. He rushed off out of sight and, whilst on still shaky legs, you turned to wipe down the kitchen top just in time for your father to enter the room.

"Ah, you getting a head start with clearing up ready to eat?" Your dad greeted you and you bit your lip to hold back a giggle.

"Mhm, don't you know it."

Needless to say, Mr Hotchner ended up staying too late to drive home that night.

Not my best work I gotta say but 😔😔 hope yawl like it anyway SKSKSKSK

Gonna move the taglist to the comment section I think but yeah if you'd like to be tagged in future works lemme know!

[festivalsofmargot]

Pretty Thoughts {Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: Sebastian is down bad for you, my dear reader. But a lot of overthinking on your part makes you blind to it. So, his only option is to keep chasing after you. Takes place after MC meets Anne and before Seb’s final mission. Your Hogwarts house is up to you.

Word Count: ~2700

Warnings: Kissing, Teen Angst

Author’s Note: This is an (un)official Part 2 to Pining in Potions Class. I like writing one shots that could go together if you’d like, but you definitely don’t need to read any other stories to know what’s going on. I love the idea of a clingy Sebastian. Teens finding their first love can feel amazing but they also don’t know how to act. All they know is they want to be with that person at all times.

Songs (if interested):

Kill the Director - The Wombats

Whatever You Like - Single Version - Anya Marina Cover

Wallpaper - Matt Watson

How Long - TALK

You had found Sebastian around you a lot more lately, not that you minded. You enjoyed it, actually. But at the same time, it kept you on edge. Though you hadn’t known the Slytherin for long, this behavior seemed very out of the ordinary for him. When you were first getting to know him, he would be brief and to the point with you, then he was off. He was always prioritizing practicing new spells in the undercroft or going over every book he could get his hands on from the restricted section. 

At first, you thought maybe he had a falling out with Ominis, but then you saw them walking into the dining hall seemingly fine with each other. And then, you made yourself paranoid it had something to do with Anne’s health. But to your relief, he updated you on something funny she wrote in her latest letter to him.

Your early conversations mainly consisted of discussing the things he had found in Salazar Slytherin’s spell book, but that was only a small portion of the time these days. More often than not, the two of you weren’t saying anything at all. He was just there with you. Whether it be studying, laying in the grass and basking in the sun, or sitting with you at breakfast going over some last minute homework. 

He was getting dangerously close to you lately too. He might not have thought anything of it. But you on the other hand? Your mind went reeling. Every time you were together, he would do something simple that made your stomach dance with butterflies. He’d brush your fingers with his, lay his head on your lap while you laid in the grass, and touch his shoulder against yours whenever you sat together in the dining hall.

It was your final class of the day, and you were barely paying attention, your mind thinking back on those light touches you and Sebastian shared. Looking up from your notes to sneak a glance at him, you found he was already staring back at you. The both of you quickly averted your eyes.

With Professor Hecat’s dismissal, all the students made their way out of the classroom. Sebastian caught up to your side.

“Have to cancel our library session. I need to meet with Ominis. Can I still try to see you later?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes, as if he needed you to confirm he could, in fact, see you later.

“O-Of course, Sebastian. I’ll probably be in the library for the rest of the night if you need me.”

He gave you a small smile and nod of his head. He took a few steps backwards to leave, keeping his eyes on you a moment longer, then he turned and went on his way.

- 

Rubbing at your eyes, you were relieved to be nearly done with all of your homework. It was the weekend now, you didn’t need to worry about finishing it all that night, but Sebastian hadn’t come to see you yet. So you stayed a bit longer than anticipated. It was getting late and everyone was gone except for you and Madam Scribner at her desk at the library entrance. 

You’d feel bad if Sebastian showed up and you weren’t there to at least tell him you were done and heading to bed. But if you were too tired, you were too tired. Sebastian wouldn’t be crushed if he turned up and you were gone... right?

You shook the thought from your head and rubbed at your blushing cheeks with the back of your hand. Sebastian doesn’t feel that way about you, he needs to focus on helping his sister. If he wants anything more, he’ll tell you. But then you began thinking about all his small touches again, pulling yourself back into the fantasy.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you knew you needed a distraction. You decided to get up from your table and explore the shelves for another book. Nothing education related, there had to be something in this humungous library that was just meant for enjoyment. Some fictional story to take your mind off of everything.

Aha! You believed you found just the book. You couldn’t quite tell from the cover, but the title was “My Beloved”. That sounded like a romance novel, right? Plucking the book from the shelf and running your hands across its bindings, you made your way back to your table. Not wanting to sit thanks to the lingering nerves, you opened up the book to a random page and read it over to see if your prediction on the content was correct.

You found it was a romance that took place in a small village. Before you knew it, you were engrossed in the story, picturing yourself and Sebastian as the main characters who were in love. You slowly placed both of your hands on the table, leaning on them as you kept reading, forgetting you could sit back down. It’d really come to this, you were so head over heels for him you were picturing the two of you in a romance novel. A dreamy sigh escaped your lips.

“What are you reading?” Sebastian asked, coming up to your side. Your attention snapped to him. He chuckled at your startled expression and very red complexion. “Uh oh, catch you reading something interesting, did I?” 

"Um...”, You started, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind was still recovering from the romantic scenarios you were just picturing the two of you in. 

Shaking your head and avoiding his gaze, Sebastian took this to mean you were upset with him. His heart sank. “I’m sorry it took me so long. Ominis and I decided to try a new spell and it took us forever to figure out. I was so focused on getting it right, I lost track of time. You’re not leaving soon, are you?”

You gave a small wave of your hand, dismissing his apology. “It’s alright, Sebastian. I got caught up here and... well, lost track of time myself.” You slid the book away from him, slowly closing it, hoping you didn’t look suspicious.

But, of course, Sebastian thought you looked suspicious. He raised a questioning brow at you and glanced at the book.

“What?” You asked innocently, turning away from him and looking down at the romance novel, firing off ideas in your head of how you’d put it away without him figuring out what it was.

“That book you got there. Why are you acting so secretive? Did I catch you reading something interesting after all?” Sebastian got closer, leaning one hand on the table next to the book and peering at it over your shoulder. His chest pressing up against your back. There he went again, giving you the slightest touch and driving you mad. The scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, intoxicating you. In that moment, you were tempted to yank him close and bury your face in his neck.

He turned his head to look at you for an answer, but you couldn’t get yourself to look back. He was so close, his lips were so close. You could make out his freckles out of the corner of your eye, feel his breath against your skin. Did he know what kind of effect he had on you? Was he teasing you? Your lips were moving to speak but no words would come out.

He gave you a playful nudge with his shoulder, prodding you to answer him. “Come on, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

And it wasn’t that bad, at most he would tease you for reading a romance novel. What was holding you back at this point was how nervous Sebastian was making you. As if you weren’t tense enough, he took it a step further and placed both of his hands on either side of you on the table, trapping you in. He rested his chin on your shoulder, taking another peek at the book.

“I never realized how much taller I am than you.” He chuckled, chest humming against your back. Keeping you in place, his callused hands grabbed yours to remove them from covering the title of the book. He held your hands in his while he read it over, then he gave a quiet, amused hum.

You turned in his arms and he lifted his head off your shoulder to meet your gaze. He smiled at you, but it faded when he saw your face. 

“What’s wrong?”

Finally facing him, even with how close he was, your desire took over your reason. And, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to be selfish. “You make me nervous, Sebastian.” You told him in a low tone.

He didn’t think you looked nervous at all. Something was written on your features but he certainly wouldn’t call it ‘nervous’. Your eyes were dark and you licked at your lips. It was brief but it caught his eye, seeing a quick glimpse of your tongue made his head race with all sorts of thoughts.

You too glanced at his lips, not caring if it was obvious what was on your mind.

Seeing your eyes shamelessly stare at his mouth, he froze. He was afraid if he made one wrong move, you’d run. He had wanted to kiss you for a while now, and right then it looked like you wanted to kiss him too. 

Then you did, and his heart went rapid. He had been convinced you could feel it when your hands moved up along his chest until one snaked around his shoulders and the other rested on his neck. His hands left their place on the table to grab your waist, pulling you closer, holding you in place. His warmth enveloped you.

You pulled away to kiss at Sebastian’s neck and his knees went weak. You kissed around the area you pictured he sprayed his cologne. You took an inhale and breathed out, “I always loved this scent on you.” You kissed at the area one more time, sending a pleasant tickling sensation up the back of his neck. His fingers dug deeper into your waist.

You go back to kissing his lips, which were softer than you had imagined. The way he earnestly moved his mouth against yours ignited sparks in your chest. You had wanted him so badly, and you finally had him there in your arms, on the tip of your tongue, for the taking. One of your hands moved to his hair and you reveled in the feeling of his locks between your fingers. 

But the abrupt sound of heels walking along a marble floor slowed your kiss to a halt. Madam Scribner. The two of you were so swept up in the moment you completely forgot other people existed (faculty that Sebastian does not have a good reputation with included).

The two of you left each other’s embrace just as Scribner came into view. Sebastian, hair slightly askew, gave a cough and acted like he was looking over some important papers which were actually your homework pages for a class he didn’t have. All the while, you had managed to open up the romance novel, nodding your head as if you were learning some new herbology methods.

Madam Scribner eyed the two of you while she put away a few books. “Getting late, best finish up before curfew.” And then she was gone, returning to her desk.

You and Sebastian looked at each other, cheeks flushed, and grinning from ear to ear. You bit at your lip and he rubbed the back of his neck. Clearing your throat, you started gathering up your homework and books.

Sebastian watched with an ache to pull you back in and keep kissing you senseless.

“I-I’m sorry I did that. That was selfish of me.” You stammered, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked, returning to your side, thinking through anything he could have done to make you feel this way. You had helped him through so much, if anything he thought he was the selfish one. You came in as a new fifth year with seemingly endless catching up to do and you had to learn how to wield ancient magic on top of that. Yet, he was unabashed in asking for your help countless times, anything to steal you away for himself.

“Well I-I know how busy you are with your research for Anne and I’d hate to be the one who slowed you down just because I-.” You went quiet, unable to finish the sentence, fingers fumbling to organize the papers in your hands.

“Just because you... what?” He urged on.

“Merlin, Sebastian. Do I need to spell it out for you?” You exhaled, leaving to go put away the books you borrowed, him following close in pursuit.

“Please do.”

“As I said,” You sighed. “You make me... nervous.”

“In a good way or bad way?”

Putting the last of the books away, you turned to face him again. “Good, I suppose.” You confessed, barely above a whisper, unable to meet his gaze.

He tried to bite back the giddy smile forming on his lips. “I make you nervous in a good way.” He repeated back, almost sounding proud.

You nodded your head, looking down at your twiddling thumbs, listening out if he would say how he felt about you.

Sebastian glanced over to Madam Scribner, who made it not so subtle she was keeping an eye on the two of you. “We should start heading to our rooms now, I suppose. Curfew and all.”

Your heart dropped, he didn’t say a thing about reciprocating your feelings. Not even a simple “I feel the same.” He must have only been swept up in the moment, enjoying the attention. Perhaps teenage hormones could make kissing enticing no matter who you were with? Embarrassment filled your every limb and you wanted to run and hide. You gathered your things to go.

“Um, yes. You’re right. We should be going.”

“I’ll walk you.”

“No, that’s alright. At this point, I’m asleep on my feet and you must be exhausted too. I’ll just floo and go straight to bed.”

Your rejection took him aback. “Oh. Well, alright then. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Maybe. I’ve got some assignments outside of the castle, might not have time.”

“Well, let me come along to help.” He offered eagerly.

“Don’t worry yourself, just send me an owl if something comes up for Anne. Sleep well, Sebastian.” 

Before he could say anything more, you sped off to the library floo, and then you were gone. He was baffled at your sudden shift, everything was going so well. The two of you kissed and you had confirmed you felt the same as he did. He couldn’t believe he could make someone like you nervous. Hearing you say how you felt about him made him so happy he could burst. But then you were rushing to leave, rejecting his offer to help again. He didn’t think he said anything wrong, he barely said anything at all. Yet off you went, like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

He groaned in frustration as he made his way to his room. He had managed to kiss you and he still felt as distant as ever from you. He had never had the courage to outright tell you how he felt, so he would constantly toe the line with his touches. The brushing fingers, laying his head on your lap, sitting as close as he could to you in the dining hall, and now a kiss, all of which you seemed to welcome.

Sebastian laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, going back and forth in his head what your actions tonight meant. You had waited in the library for him all that time, you initiated the kiss, said you liked - no - loved his cologne, told him he made you nervous in a good way, and then you wanted nothing more to do with him. He replayed the whole night and he couldn’t pin down where he went wrong. 

He’d have to find you first thing in the morning, before you could leave.

[artinvain]

vampire!sevika x witch!reader who runs into you at the library when she’s returning books. (no smut … yet!??!) men and minors dni

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ:

Vampire!sevika who smells you, sickly sweet smell of a bakery, cigarettes and coffee. whose mouth starts to taste metallic. standing there and scenting the air, her eyes scrunched shut so no one sees the whites have turned crimson and her pupils are blown and black.

who tries to smile at you but feels her fangs extending a pain of hunger growing in her so she has to feed before she even comes near you.

vampire!Sevika who ignores all your advances with a smile and flippancy because she’s afraid she’ll hurt you if she gets too close.

vampire!Sevika whose hunting and spots you on a picnic, and has to claim she was hiking because she was caught staring.

vampire!Sevika who has to join you — seeing you alone in the woods too worrisome for her to leave you.

vampire!Sevika who then warms up to the idea of being around tou, not because she was dangerous but because she could protect you from things much worse than her

vampire!Sevika who starts leaving flowers at your work.

vampire!Sevika who is so used to providing she nearly cries when you send her your favourite book you “think you’ll really enjoy. It seems to match your old soul” with a plate of baked cookies on top.

vampire!Sevika who has her team watch out for you (as in stalk you 24 hours and report your movements back to her)

she thinks it’s the way you get to know someone — watch you , learn what you like so that she can anticipate your needs and be a good partner.

vampire!Sevika who thinks she’s ready to have dinner at your place when you offer.

and is stunned to see the sigils and candles, books and herbs inside, crystals lining the walls and refracting light into your living room.

When you stand silently at the door until she asks to be invited in, she’s immediately suspicious.

vampire!Sevika who’s been around long enough to realise you have a cloaking spell rune above your fireplace and knows she fucked.

because she doesn’t know anything about you — all her intel was messed with by your spell.

vampire!sevika who is now an entirely new level of nervous because not only are you intelligent and interesting and funny — you’re also more gorgeous than any face she’s seen in decades. eyes so unwarded and honest, skin soft and dewy. and your hands on hers — god it’s so soft—

and then she realises you’re asking about her daylight ring, you’re very fascinated you know about the type of rock that was used, it’s more popular century, the tiny runes inscribed de dismissed as aging.

vampire!Sevika who doesn’t stay for dinner when she smells your tea, the scent like burning razors in her nostrils. Vervain. A plant near deadly to vampires.

vampire!Sevika who excuses herself saying she has a cold and then receives a care package for her, which makes her realise the cookies you baked didn’t have any vervain in them. So she tries the food and it’s fine. more than fine it’s incredible. It makes her so hungry she has to feed.

vampire!sevika who only feeds on what she declared “scum of the earth,” she didn’t do it often at the risk of being caught but some nights, (like where she sees two men pulling a knife on a woman walking home from work — well with a knife it’s easy to make the deaths look … natural) she’s lucky.

vampire!Sevika who invites you over to her loft, it’s actually more dated than you’d expect. gold-yellow and red lilac and columbine flower wallpaper in the living room’s feature wall. With more modern pops in the furniture and essentials.

“A lot of your stuff is… antique,” you say smiling politely, a furrow in your brow. and Sevika laughs at the way you sit very very carefully on an old chesterfield sofa.

“I’ve reinforced them,” Sevika explains “they are old but, I can’t seem to let them go,”

“Family heirloom?” You guess, a lot of the stuff in here was too fancy to be sold at regular antiques in your area, which meant Sevika was rich, according to her furniture you guessed old money rich.

“that’s insane to have a family tree you can trace so far back you could have your own heirloom”

it was her brothers. they sat on it every night together in his first and only home, and talked in depth about nothing at all.

“My family is close, I am grateful,” Sevika says

the look in your eye. a twinkle of playful curiosity,

“and the ring is an heirloom also?” You ask, standing up to take another look around.

“this stuff if very english — your accent —“

”we moved when I was very little,” she interrupted quickly, that wasn’t entirely false. “I’ve lived here all my life,” that was lie.

you smile at her and quirk your head. she was so… guarded.

“what about your family?” Sevika asks, stepping toward you and guiding you with her hand on your lower back to the sofa. she opens a bottle of wine and pours it for you when she hears you say “salem” and nearly spills. you pretend not to notice and take the glass, thanking her.

“yeah, we fled during the salem trials, there was a much bigger pool of people then, than what’s documented,” you say and Sevika turns to you

”witches then,” Sevika says and lets a giggle slip when you say “of course, have you seen the way I dress?” so wooed by your boldness because yes, she has noticed the way you dress and she thinks you’re some kind of deity, the way your dresses and skirts fall over your thighs, and the way your jean overalls highlights your arms. she’s always mesmerised.

“you are a little whimsical, you sent me the metamorphosis by Franz kafka!” She rolls are eyes at the memory, she was kind of offended when she got it because really? but then when she read it with your note at the end she knew you were referencing yourself, explaining the way your mind works without really having to tell her. So Sevika is gentle with her words around you, makes sure your needs get catered to and makes sure that you always feel secure and loved. 🏷️ @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @sevsbaby @bimboprincezz @opropheticsoul

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

hello! im a big fan of the childhood friends trope and was wondering if you could write that with alastor? (ex. what being friends with him as a child was like and how he’d act towards reader when theyre both in hell)

Life and Death

Navigation!! // Mastlierst!!

A/N: Clearing out my inbox is proving to be a lot harder than I thought, but nevertheless, I really enjoyed writing this so thank you so much for your request!! I actually wrote something similar to this, which I will link here in case anyone wants to check it out :)

The old manor on the edge of the forest was a place of whispered secrets and endless possibilities. It was here, among the ivy-clad walls and shadowed corners, that you and Alastor first crossed paths as children in 1910. The air was thick with the scent of adventure and mischief, and you were drawn together by an unspoken bond that only childhood friends could understand.

Alastor was a whirlwind of energy, always dreaming up new schemes and fantastical stories. You were his constant companion, eagerly diving into whatever trouble he cooked up. One day, Alastor burst into your room, eyes wide with excitement.

“Guess what I’ve unearthed!” he announced, brandishing a dusty, old book he had found in the manor’s attic.

You looked at him skeptically but couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. “What is it?”

“It’s a tome of ancient rites!” he proclaimed with a theatrical flourish. “We could summon something marvelous!”

Later that evening, under the flickering light of a candle, you followed Alastor’s instructions from the book. The ritual involved chanting in an archaic language and mixing some peculiar ingredients. Alastor’s dramatic flair was on full display as he recited the incantations with exaggerated gestures.

“Prepare yourself for an awe-inspiring spectacle!” he declared, his voice rich with anticipation.

You nodded, and moments later, the “ritual” resulted in a shower of harmless, yet dazzling sparks that illuminated the darkened room. You both laughed, delighted by the harmless chaos.

Despite his penchant for mischief, Alastor had a protective streak when it came to you. One day, a local bully who had a knack for tormenting other children cornered you near the edge of the forest.

Alastor, who had been hiding behind a tree, sprang into action. He marched up to the bully with exaggerated, theatrical bravado.

“Unhand my companion, you ruffian!” Alastor declared, his voice echoing with a dramatic authority that surprised even you.

The bully, taken aback by Alastor’s sudden appearance and his unyielding confidence, quickly backed down. You watched, both relieved and amused, as Alastor escorted you away with a triumphant grin.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said, trying to suppress a smile. “But thank you.”

“Of course I did!” Alastor replied, puffing out his chest. “Who else could possibly defend you from such knaves?”

Your shared adventures and mischief were punctuated by quiet moments of reflection. After one particularly wild escapade, you’d sit together under the sprawling oak tree in the manor’s garden.

Alastor was sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the sky. “Did you know,” he mused with a playful glint in his eyes, “that the stars are the souls of ancient heroes, forever shining?”

You lay beside him, looking up at the sky as well. “Really? And what about us?”

Alastor turned to you, his expression a mix of seriousness and playful charm. “Well, we must be destined for greatness. After all, we’ve survived countless escapades without a scratch.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “And we’ll conquer many more adventures to come.”

Years later, in the chaotic, glittering world of Hell, your friendship with Alastor became a source of stability and comfort. The year was now 1910, and Alastor, having transformed into a powerful and enigmatic figure, still sought out your company. Despite his new persona, there was a spark of the old Alastor that remained when he was around you.

In the neon glow of Hell, you both found solace in each other’s presence. During a quiet evening, Alastor stood up, his posture exuding both confidence and nervousness. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, softened as he prepared to confess his feelings.

“Mon chère,” he began, his voice rich with an earnest emotion that contrasted with his usual theatricality, “even amidst all this ceaseless darkness, you’ve become a beacon of light in my existence. I’ve never felt this way before—not even when I was alive. Your presence… it’s something I can’t simply ignore.”

Your heart ached at his words, and you replied with the same mix of warmth and reserve that defined your relationship. “You’ve always been a part of my world, Alastor. Even now, despite everything that’s changed, I still see the child I once knew. And I can’t deny that I feel the same way.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken promises. As the night deepened, you both found solace in each other’s presence, a testament to the enduring bond forged in childhood and strengthened through the trials of the underworld.

In that moment, under the neon glow of Hell, you were not just two powerful entities but childhood friends rediscovering a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space. The adventures of the past and the mysteries of the present merged into a shared future, one where the echoes of your childhood laughter resonated with the promise of something deeper and more profound.

[niallhorxns]

Niall Horan x Reader: Worth Fighting For

Prompt: The distance while he's on tour is difficult, you and Niall try to make it work.

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hi all!! So excited to be writing again. Please enjoy this slightly angsty, short fic. And please feel free to send any / all Niall requests my way :)

Niall’s contact photo pops up on your phone. The ringer interrupts the song you were playing through your car speakers, but before you even slide to answer, you already know the sound of his voice is going to be way better than whatever poppy tune had been on.  

“Hey babe,” you smile widely, trying to balance your phone between your ear and shoulder as you drive home from work. The fact that you would be seeing Niall tonight has been the only thing keeping you smiling throughout the day. Not even the heavy traffic can interfere with your good mood.  

Since you’ve been together, you’ve dealt with Niall spending long hours at the studio– and occasionally taking long weekend trips to Ireland or New York. But this tour was so much more difficult than any of that. 

When Niall left for his latest tour, you both were dedicated to making things work. You planned FaceTimes and phone calls and flew in to see him whenever you could. However, the last few months had been harder than you could have ever anticipated, and the distance had definitely taken a toll on your relationship. 

But right now, none of that mattered, because Niall would be home tonight.  

“Hey there,” Niall says back. You can hear chatter in the background and briefly wonder if he’s landed yet.  

“Are you almost home?” You ask, hopeful.

There’s a brief pause, then Niall sighs. “That’s actually what I was calling about—“

“Oh no,” you interrupt. “Was the flight delayed?”

“No…” he clears his throat, “I’m actually still in New York.”

The moment he says the words, your coffee canister slips from your hands, spilling over your lap and car. The heat immediately seeps through your skirt. You’re lucky you don’t crash as you try to wipe it up with the napkins stuffed in your cup holder.  

“Shit,” you gasp, your thighs burning from the hot beverage. “Shit, shit, shit—“  

“Baby?” You hear his worried voice through the line. 

You flip your blinker on and pull over on the side of the road. You wipe up the remainder of the coffee, ignoring Niall asking if everything was okay on the other end of the line.  

Once your legs no longer feel like they’re on fire, you pick your phone back up, and already on the verge of tears resume your conversation.

“Are you serious?” You ask. “I thought you had three nights off.”

“I know– I do, but we got the opportunity to play on Fallon, my agent booked it–“ 

You can tell he’s trying to dodge a fight, which you’ve been doing a lot of lately. Last week you were mad when he canceled your FaceTime date to go out with bandmates instead. The week before that, he was frustrated that you declined his offer to fly you out to Denver with less than a day's notice.

Seeing each other today has been what you were both holding onto. Or at least that’s what you thought.

“Why do you have to play Fallon, Niall? It’s not like you’re desperate to grow your image–”

“I know, but it’s a good opportunity to expand to other listeners–”

You sigh, and without raising your voice say,  “I just… We’ve had these dinner plans for so long— I mean my parents have been talking about this for weeks.“

“I know, I know, I know—“ he says frantically, “I’m so sorry, believe me, I’d much rather be there than here… this place is nuts.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, and close your eyes, listening to the sound of traffic rushing by your parked vehicle.  

“Okay,” you sigh, feeling so defeated and drained all of a sudden. “Okay, well, we’ll miss you.”

“I know, tell everyone I say I’m sorry for not being there.”

“Yeah, alright,” you agree.  

“So we’ll just talk later then?” He asks, the noise in the background getting louder.  

“Okay,” you say before hanging up. 

You can’t help but notice that the “I love you’s” were skipped.  

You drive the rest of the way home with your fingers tightly clutching the steering wheel. Your knuckles are white by the time you pull into the driveway. You drag your bag and coffee-stained self into the house to change and get ready for dinner with your family.  

You try convincing yourself that the night will be fun, regardless of the fact that Niall bailed.  But the moment you sit around the table at the restaurant and count that you are in fact the ninth wheel of the family, you know things are doomed. Plus you can’t shake the achy feeling inside your chest that makes you fear for your relationship with Niall. You’d been holding onto this weekend together with everything you had. It’s kept you grounded, and reminded you that this distance between you and Niall won’t last forever– that this tour will eventually end. 

Except now, you have nothing to hold on to.  

“Where’s Niall?” Your mother immediately asked. Of course she does– because your family loves Niall. 

Without even thinking, you lie, “His flight got delayed. Bad weather. Tornadoes, I think—“  you’re not sure why you don’t tell the truth. Denial, maybe. Embarrassment that his job would always come before you.

“Bad weather?” Your brother asks, “Where is he?”

“New York,“ you say quickly. 

Your brother pulls out his phone. After a moment his brows furrow. “Huh, weird. The weather app says it’s sunny and clear there.”

Instantly you feel your face turning red. “Yeah… weird,” you say. 

Your brother opens his mouth– probably to ask more questions, but his girlfriend elbows him, indicating for him to shut his mouth. You give her a soft smile in appreciation.

You stay quiet for the majority of the meal, and you don’t feel much like eating. You try to listen to your dad talk about golf, but all you can focus on is how Niall might chime into the conversation. You try to listen to your older brother when he complains about his meal, but all you can imagine is how Niall would nudge your leg and offer you a sly smile, knowing how much that annoyed you. 

You can’t be present because all you can do is think about how much you miss him– you miss his laugh, and the smell of his aftershave. You miss how warm hands always are, and how they’re always touching you– every chance he can get. You miss the way he can always lighten the mood, and how safe you feel just knowing he’s around. You miss him with everything inside of you– and his absence tonight only makes you miss him more. 

All-in-all, you’re relieved when everyone is ready to head home.  

“Hey,” your brother’s girlfriend catches up to you before you can head to your car.

“Hi,” you smile.

“Is everything okay? I just— I wanted to make sure, because you do know New York doesn’t really have tornados, right?”

You nod and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, I know. And Niall’s flight never got delayed,” you take a deep breath, “I guess that just sounded better than the fact that he didn’t even get on his flight. Got caught up at work,” you explain.

She sighs empathetically. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just—“ you feel the tears starting to fill your eyes and you wipe them away, embarrassed. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh no,” she says empathetically.

“The distance is just, really, really hard. Way harder than I ever thought—“ Even you can tell how choked up your voice sounds. “And I just don’t see it ending anytime soon. I mean, sure, this tour will end. But he loves his job, so I know there will just be another one. And another. And can’t ask him to give that up. But I can’t compete with it. I just don’t know if I can do it—”

“Maybe you should talk to him about this,” she suggests, as she soothingly rubs your shoulder. “Tell him how much it’s bothering you. Be honest.”

You nod. “Yeah you’re probably right.” You wipe your runny nose on your sleeve.  

“Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

You nod, thanking her and hugging her goodbye. She’s right. You do need to talk to Niall. But that’s a conversation you wish you could just keep on the back burner, ignoring until everything ignited. You dreaded it the whole way home.  

When you did finally arrive home, you puttered around the house– put the dishes away, washed your face, got into your pajamas, all as an effort to stall. Finally, you curled up on the couch. With no more excuses to delay the inevitable, you pulled out your phone and clicked on Niall’s contact. You hated this– everything about it. You hated that you hated it– hated that you were dreading calling your favorite person in the entire world… the only person who made you feel whole. 

The phone rang three times before Niall answered. “Hey baby,” he said cheerfully. “How’re you?”

“Okay,” you said quietly. “How was Fallon?” 

“Not bad– that guy from the TV show you like… the one on HBO? God, I can’t remember the name of it now. But he was there. Made me think of you. The crowd was fun– a few people actually knew the words. How was dinner?” He asks.  

“It was fine—“ you lie, not really wanting to fake small talk. “Everyone missed you.”

“Yeah, I wish I could’ve been there.”

You clear your throat as you anxiously pick at the skin around your thumb.  

“Listen, Niall. We need to talk—“

“Babe,” he protests, like he knows where this is going. “I already apologized for not being there— I wanted to, but I couldn’t say no after they booked the gig–”

You don’t want another fight. You’re too tired, too drained, too sad to fight. You love Niall– so much so that you wanted him around all the time– needed him. And you know Niall loves you too. But Niall also loves music, and touring. One was always going to interfere with the other, and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. And suddenly, the realization that this just isn’t going to work hits you like a ton of bricks.

“I know…” you say as non-confrontational as possible, “I know it’s your job, I understand that, but I— I need you here, Niall. And maybe that’s selfish of me, or whatever, but it’s true. I need you here. And I don’t know if I can do this distance thing, I thought I could, but I don’t think I can. It’s… Honestly, it’s killing me.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Niall asks. “I mean, what do you want me to do? Quit? Do you want me to quit the tour?”

You squeeze your eyes shut in anticipation of what’s about to happen.  

“No, I don’t want that,” you say, your voice becoming thick with tears. You could never take performing away from Niall– you wouldn’t be the thing that came between him and his passion. “I hate that this is through the phone, but I don’t think we should do this anymore. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

A long, heavy silence settles over the air. It sends waves of blood pumping to your ears. It’s deafening. 

You begin wondering if you should provide more of an explanation, but then Niall speaks. 

“Baby—“ he pleads, his voice suddenly full of desperation. “Please, I know you’re mad about tonight but I can fix this—“

“I’m not mad,” you tell him honestly, pushing the emotion in your voice down and trying to muscle through. “I understand that you couldn’t say no. I know you wanted to be here but couldn’t. But I come second to your job, Niall. And I always will. And that’s not your fault. But it’s not my fault either. And I– I just think that I need more than that.”

He’s stammering incoherently on the other end, and you imagine what his face looks like right now. Is he crying? Are his eyebrows all scrunched up?

He tries protesting again, but you can’t think about anything other than getting off the phone.  

“I’m really sorry this isn’t in person, you deserve that. But I just can’t keep doing this,” you explain. “When you’re back in LA, shoot me a text and I can get your stuff together.”

“Baby–” he pleads. 

But you cut him off. “Goodbye,” you whisper, hitting the end button before he can convince you to change your mind. As soon as the line goes dead, you break out into uncontrollable sobs.  The weight on your shoulders that you thought would be lifted only felt heavier as you let yourself fall back against the cushions of the couch you bought together.

Your chest aches. Desperately, you clutch your arm around yourself, trying to hold everything together. 

It hurts like fucking hell. 

It’s the kind of pain you know will leave lasting scars– the kind you know you’ll carry with you forever. And the only person you’d ever want to call to help you through it is the one you just broke up with. 

Broke up. 

You and Niall broke up. 

You cry harder. 

You cry and cry and cry– until there’s nothing left inside of you, until you’re pretty sure if you cried anymore, you’d need an IV to replace all the fluids. You cry until finally, you drift off into an uneasy sleep, curled up on the couch with Netflix playing on the TV, the screen lighting up the otherwise dark living room. 

The clock below the TV reads 7 am when you wake to the sound of the front door opening.  

Your first instinct is to scream, but you catch a glimpse of the familiar, dark haired man crossing the room before that can happen.

“Niall?” You say groggily, rubbing your tired eyes. “What are you doing?” You feel like you might still be dreaming.

“I know you probably don’t want me here,” he says, he’s out of breath, panting, even– like he ran across the country overnight to be here. That’s when it hits you that Niall is really here– not across the country in New York, but standing in your shared living room in LA. 

“Just hear me out—” He begs. When you don’t protest, he continues. “I love my job,” he states. “Playing music has always been my dream, and then that dream came true. I love touring– I love performing.I love being able travel around so much—“

You let your eyes wander to the floor, wondering where this all is going.

“But none of that compares to how much I love you,” he says, his shoulders finally deflating.  “And I’ll quit in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes. Please, please don’t be mad– I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work, I swear.”

It had been so long since Niall had told you he loved you, that you feared it might no longer be true. But as soon as he says the words with such honesty and passion, your face scrunches up and the tears start to fall, because you immediately believe him. For a moment, you forget that you’d practically broken up with him over the phone.

All you care about is that he’s here. Niall is here, standing in front of you in real life for the first time in so long. As soon as he sees your face crumple, he’s crossing the room in two quick strides. Before you can protest, he’s kneeling in front of you on the couch. 

Your knees– you think. But then one of Niall’s hands is cradling your cheek softly while the other rests on your thigh, and all you can think about is how grateful you are that he’s home. 

“I’m not mad, I just… I– I miss you–” you sob before leaning forward, arms winding around his neck while you crash into him. “I miss you so much, all the time.” 

His arms wind around you tightly. He smells so familiar, and when he tightens his grip around you, you immediately feel safe and secure and whole again– the way only Niall can make you feel.   

You’re not sure how long you stay like that. But you’re afraid that the minute you let go, things will fall apart again.  

“I miss you too,” he whispers, hand coming up to stroke through your hair. “God, I missed you so much.”

You lean into his touch, try to memorize the feel of it. Then, you sigh into his neck. “I could never ask you to quit your job. You love your job more than anything. You’d be so unhappy and I’d hate myself for making you unhappy.”

Niall pulls you away from himself– holding you out in front of him. “You come before my job, okay? It’s not even close. If I quit music, I’d miss it. Of course I would. But I can write songs here– play my guitar here. Eventually, it’d feel okay. But if I lost you–” Niall shakes his head, like the thought alone is too unbearable. “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to be happy again. You come first, okay? Always.” 

You give Niall the best attempt at a smile that you can come up with, enough to show him that you appreciate his gesture. It’s nice actually hearing how much Niall cares for you. He smiles back, it’s weak and doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a smile all the same. And it’s Niall’s. 

But then it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a slight frown before he says, “What if you came with me?”

Taken aback, you immediately shake your head. “What? On tour?”

He nods, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “Yeah, why not?”  

You open your mouth, presumably to list the reasons why that would be such a bad idea. But your mind is blank. 

“You can bring your laptop– work from the bus, or hotel or whatever. We could travel around, see things. Just be together.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’d get sick of me–”

“Are you kidding? I’m sick of being away from you.”

“Niall– there’s no way. I have work– what about the apartment?”

“It’s an apartment, not a dog. It doesn’t need food or water. Plus, I won’t be touring all the time. Just for a few more months. We’d get through it, then figure out what to do next. But we’d be together.”

The more he talked, the more you realize that maybe it isn’t such a bad idea. Like he said, it’s only a few months. Maybe it really could work. 

And in that moment, on top of admiration and love and endearment, you feel hopeful– hopeful for the first time in a long time. Because even though things between you and Niall are far from perfect, you love him and he loves you. And that’s worth fighting for.  

[spongeyspot]

Poly Relationship HCs (SFW +NSFW)

(John Marston x fem!reader x Abigail Marston)

(A/N): A little longer than I anticipated. Also, I'm terrible at editing things so if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, please don't bite me. I'm just a wee baby

Content warning: fluff, small mentions of infidelity, polyamory, female reader, you/she pronouns

SFW

- The relationship itself had probably started when either John or Abigail had started to catch feelings

- It was probably Abigail considering how distant John was from her in the beginning

- Quite honestly would probably keep your relationship a secret during the very early stages.

- She saw how much you cared about her and her family, so it was only natural for her to start to fall in love. She fell in love with John pretty quickly, too, though he was a bit slower to warm up to the idea of having a family

- You, however, love Jack as if he were your own, which makes Abigail swoon even more. Plus, another parent figure to Jack (Who he also really likes) because her husband is kinda useless half the time? Jackpot!

- When she brought up adding you to their relationship, John was probably pretty okay with the idea, even a little excited, though if she told him that she had been seeing you secretly before that, he'd probably be a little pissy.

- After adding you to their family, things seemed to move a lot smoother. John warmed up to the idea a lot quicker than both of you had anticipated

- You usually act as a mediator for a lot of Abigail and John's fights, but knowing John he'd probably say some shit like "Look, even she's on my side!" and Abigail would get pissed at you too.

- Abigail LOVES to hold you by the fire. John usually has his arm around the both of you with you sitting in the middle.

- Would take turns having you sleep with them at night because their bedrolls weren't really big enough to fit one person, let alone three.

- When the gang moved to Shady Belle, things were a lot easier with lodging. John loses his mind every time he gets to cuddle the both of you at the same time. He's a sucker for physical touch, really.

- After chores are finished, the three of you are usually found sitting under a tree, Abigail cuddled into your side while you read a book, and John lays on his back beside you, his head resting on your thighs. His hat is usually covering his face, but when it isn't, you or Abigail absentmindedly play with his hair or massage his scalp.

- Abigail loves it when you spend time with Jack. It makes her heart swell to see him having so much fun.

- You tend to encourage John to spend time with him as well, which she also appreciates.

- Family game nights end with You and Jack teamed up and absolutely wrecking John at dominoes while Abigail watches

- Says something like "I let you win." with a roll of his eyes before sulking away

- Pet names!

- John calls you 'Baby', 'Darlin'', 'Dollface', and even 'Sugartits' if he wants to get slapped

- Abigail calls you 'Honey', 'Sweetie pie', 'Honey Bun', or 'Pretty Girl'.

- Both John and Abigail enjoy physical affection.

- John likes to kiss your hair and squeeze your thighs.

- Abigail loves to kiss you on the cheek and hold your hand.

-If John walks by you, he will throw out an affectionate compliment or two

- "God, you look pretty today, (Name)."

- Also probably pinches or slaps your ass on his way by

- He secretly loves it when you slap or pinch his ass too, though he'd never actually admit it.

- Abigail is a bit more sultry with it, then goes back to normal like she didn't just blatantly hit on you

- "Damn, well look at you, Pretty girl. Don't you look fine this mornin'... Coffee?"

- Also pinches and slaps your ass, but also gives it a good squeeze, and will sometimes hold her hand on your ass instead of on your hip if you stand side by side.

NSFW (MINORS DNI)

Content Warnings: oral sex (m + f recieving), mean!dom!abigail, dacryphilia if you squint, edging, masturbation, voyeurism, cucking if you squint, risky sex, brat tamer!Abigail, spanking, biting, hickeys, marking kink, Mommy kink, praise, breeding, creampies, cum eating

- John and Abigail are both switches.

- John tends to be a top when it's just the two of you, but when Abigail is also part of the fun, he's most likely on his back, letting you both use him however you please.

- His favorite is when he's laying on his back and both you and Abigail take turns sucking his cock, occasionally pulling away to kiss. It makes him rock hard. Never mind how it feels... he could cum from the sight alone... his favorite girls worshipping his cock with all their enthusiasm and love.

- Abigail is a Dom/top a lot of the time. She can also be pretty mean about it.

- Abigail edges you to the point where sometimes, you'll cry out for her, begging her to let you finish. Every time she finally lets you, you always feel like you cum so much harder than you ever had before.

- John loves to sit back and jerk off, watching the two of you in bed together.

- Abigail sometimes does the same, sitting aside whilst rubbing and fucking her pussy with her fingers as she watches John fuck you into his bedroll

- Abigail loves it when you act like a brat - She likes to leave your ass red and sore from spanking you, and often orders John to do the same when she watches.

- Abigail also probably bites you a leaves hickeys to stake her claim on you. Makes sure to put them where everyone can see.

- John does the same, but it's usually below where your clothes would cover them like your breasts, stomach, or thighs

- John LOVES biting you. He loves making you squirm

- Abigail lowkey has a Mommy kink

- Abigail likes to call you her Pillow Princess, pulling beautiful noises from you as she makes you cum multiple times in quick succession with just her hands. Sometimes even her words.

- "Look at you, sweetie pie. All pretty and spread open, just for me. Oh, I know you just came... but... How's about one more, huh? Can you do that for Mommy?"

- There have been times when it's been just the two of you, and she's shown far more vulnerability than she's used to. During those times, she's on her back, a hand covering her mouth as you work her open with your mouth and fingers.

- Please praise the hell out of her during these times. She really needs it.

- Even when Abigail is vulnerable with you, she is still in control almost 99.99% of the time.

- John and Abigail are both certified munches

-John loves when both of you are on top of him, riding both his dick and his face.

- He eats pussy like his life depends on it. Fr like it's his last meal.

- He also loves to watch you eat pussy.

- He loves to fuck you in the doggy style position while Abigail buries your face between her legs.

- John usually likes to have sex in the privacy of his tent/room, whereas Abigail likes risky sex. She likes the idea of there being a possibility you could be caught

- there have been numerous times when she's stuck her hand into the front of your skirts while you sat the the dining table during mealtimes. As far as you both knew, the other people sitting there had been oblivious.

- John knows. He always knows. He was watching the whole time.

- He was usually the one to instigate it, always letting Abigail know whenever you forwent bloomers. (he would hide them so you couldn't wear them)

-Though he'd probably never participate himself, he loves to watch you come undone on Abigail's fingers in public.

- John fantasizes about getting you pregnant too.

- He brought it up to Abigail as a joke, saying how nice it would be for Jack to have a sibling to play with.

- From that point on, John was told to cum inside you every chance he got, not stopping even after you're swollen and round with his baby.

-Abigail enjoys eating you out after John has cum inside you.

[yuurei20]

Hello!! Sorry if this is a little something out of your wheelhouse but I keep seeing people say Yana said in a tweet that the Twst’s story will continue after the current main story arc. Do you know if she actually said it or have a link to that tweet? It feels like an urban legend and idk if I can believe it without seeing it for myself. Thanks if you get around to answering this and if not then have a good night/afternoon/morning!

Hello hello! Thank you for this question!

There has been no explicit statement released by Yana, Aniplex or anyone on the direction of the main story (that I have been able to find), which makes sense!

According to the interviews we have, plans/ideas/characters are changing all the time behind the scenes (sometimes long after development has begun), so someone saying "these are our plans for the future!" at any time would be very unwise. It is a volatile industry!

Proving that something has happened is much easier than proving something has not (which is likely why a lot of these rumors get so popular), but I can certainly share the things that we know have been said! ^^

I reviewed the two official interviews that Yana has given on Twst, one published in the Magical Archives game guide in 2020 and one posted to the Apple Store in 2023, and here are all the comments that might be meant to relate to future endeavors!

・"I wrote this story with the intention of developing mutual understandings through such clashes. So no matter where this story goes, it will never be about forgiveness or saving someone."

・"I would like to have raid battles where players fight together. The theme of the game is 'making problem children cooperate with each other,' so I feel that such an addition to the gameplay would allow us to better feel the growth of the characters."

・"I would also like to collaborate with other Disney productions. The characters in 'Twisted Wonderland' are also Disney characters, so I don't know if collaboration is the right word."

・"I would also like to continue to dress the characters up in gorgeous outfits. I have so many ideas for what kind of fashion I want them to wear, what kind of makeup I want them to try…there are so many things I want to do."

・"As long as villains are the basis for these characters, I think it is important that they never become overly good people."

・"However, I am sure that more and more events are going to be held in the future, so I am wondering if parallel and ‘if’ worlds are going to start appearing."

・"The text of the first book is 35,000 Japanese characters long but book 6 has over 250,000. Up until about book 3 users are still getting to know the characters, so we prioritized helping people come to understand the world of Twst and keeping things compact. After the game was released, however, it felt like people were reading much more deeply into the story than we had anticipated. So now I include much more information than was provided during those setup chapters."

・Going forward things are going to be on a much larger scale, incorporating not only the vertical and horizontal axes of the story but also expanding upon elements such as a present, past and future. Look forward to Book 7 (currently on chapter 2)!

・"We will continue to develop this game that emphasizes the spirit of villains that cannot be discouraged, and we hope that our users will continue to enjoy it.”

・"Thank you so much for playing Twisted Wonderland. We will continue to do our best to make this game into something that can add a little more fun and color to your daily lives."

I have seen fan-rumors before of maybe an RSA arc, or perhaps the 4th years being introduced, or even the current class graduating to welcome a new wave of 1st-year students, but they are all unproven theories ^^ Very fun to think about, but unofficial!

[edwinspaynes]

I think I've figured out how to articulate something fandom related that I've been thinking for a while, so I'm going to try.

For context, I've been a TSC fan for over a decade, primarily into TLH (even when we had nothing but portraits and Nothing But Shadows). I've seen the tides of the fandom change more than a lot of people can fathom. And I consistently find that the space we're in now, the "between series" space, is my favourite time period for fandom.

Part of this is that the fandom gets smaller and less insane when we're in this in-between - while the books are being published, tons of people come in, argue, start drama for no reason. It's unmanageable. 2020 was a fucking nightmare, probably the worst one, but there have always been nutty masses when the series are actively being published and at their prime time.

But that isn't all.

It's that the people who stick around during these in-between gray areas are those of us who actually love the books, the world, the canon. We're by and large the people who want to stick with it and feel positively about the series, the creator, the world building, and the characters. Sure, we have criticisms - naturally! But they're made with love and respect, and we don't attack Cassie or other fans about it. We're excited rather than angry, and that overarching energy makes the fandom a much more wholesome space instead of the toxic cesspool that it is when people are sticking around to hate-read it and dump on all aspects of the series.

I'm thinking about this now because TWP coming in 2026 (not surprising to me and actually 100% reasonable given how publishing works) gives us more time to live in this space. To enjoy the fandom without the unnecessary drama of weird antis who want to hate read every release and attack people who actually like the books and world for what they are.

I'm in a pretty unique place now with the book canon where "my" series is done (with the exception of a novella and 3 short stories). That's brought me both a weird amount of peace and a pretty new, interesting perspective even if it's Sad. I feel like I'm on the other end of things. And I really hope the TWP peeps enjoy this time, because some of my best memories and connections were made at 3 AM chatting with the other 3 people who liked TLH best in 2017. It's in hope, it's in theorizing, it's in anticipation, and it's here that we can truly connect and thrive and love.

[toboldlygohome]

"Please..."

Mark Watney X Reader

Summary: Nothing could have prepared you for the pain of losing your boyfriend on Sol 6. But you were even less prepared to find out that he didn't die. You left him there. Alone.

Character(s): Mark Watney, Beth Johanssen, Chris Beck, Melissa Lewis, Alex Vogel, Rick Martinez.

Warning(s): Descriptions of grief, Mentions of death, Cursing (lots of it), Mildly sexual themes (nothing explicit), Mentions of malnourishment.

A/N: I absolutely adore The Martian, but I've noticed a criminally low amount of fan content for it, so I decided to make some! I've decided to follow more closely to the book plot rather than the movie (Just because I like the dialogue more and it's more scientifically accurate). However, there will be a couple scenes from the movie sprinkled in just because I thought they were fun. I hope you enjoy!

It was the morning of Sol 6 and you were up early to make some coffee before your EVA mission. The past few days on Mars had been busy, but far more rewarding than you could have ever imagined. You were one of the geologists in the Ares 3 crew, along with Commander Lewis of course. Mars, to you, was a playground of science. A giant sphere of discovery you couldn't wait to explore.

Today's EVA was to gather samples from near the hab. You had seen plenty of rocks on the way in that you needed to overturn almost as much as you needed oxygen to breathe.

You sensed a hand on the small of your back and felt goosebumps trail up your spine. "Morning Y/L/N. Anything to report?" A playful voice proclaimed.

"Other than bland coffee and terrible sleep, nothing of interest~" You turned back and smiled at your boyfriend. He brushed his thumb over a patch of exposed skin on your lower back before pulling his hand away.

"Hey, at least you don't have to sleep under Martinez, bastard was tossing and turning all night." He smirked as he made his own cup. "I'm barely getting by, the only thing keeping me grounded is this bland ass coffee."

You snickered and rolled your eyes. "Poor baby," You teased.

You and Mark Watney had been together for almost three years, in secret of course. NASA isn't exactly fond of sending couples into space where they might throw caution to the wind and procreate in transit. You were professionals, this mission was something you both had been looking forward to since it was announced. But that wouldn't stop the Space Administration from removing you both from Ares 3.

Nobody knew you were together. Not NASA, not your families, not even the crew knew of your relationship. As far as anyone was concerned, you were just great friends (inseparable in fact). You went out for dinners, went on morning jogs together, spent late nights gaming and going over the mission handbook. Everyone knew you confided in one another and worked incredibly as a team. But nobody would have guessed that instead of playing Yahtzee together on your evenings off, Mark was slowly and deliciously making you breathless with his lips, melting you with his touch.

Once the mission actually started, it was much harder than anticipated to cut out the physical affection. There were cameras everywhere on the ship and absolutely no way to hide from them. The only place for privacy was the bathrooms, but you had a rather close call that involved Mark dragging you there under the guise of helping him with his laptop (which obviously earned an eyebrow raise from Johanssen,) only for him to kiss you with the desperation of a man dying of thirst. You were nearly caught by Beck and you both decided not to risk it again. Luckily, you and Watney were a couple of problem solvers.

Instead of kisses, you resorted to touching. A hand on the back, an arm on the shoulder, a nudge of the elbow. Casual touch became your replacement for intimacy.

Mark pulled a smug smile and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. "You know what Y/N, I am a poor baby. But I can think of something that would make me feel better..." He whispered close to your ear. You flushed and playfully shoved him back.

"In your dreams Watney." You scoffed but your hand lingered on his stomach, earning a cheeky grin from the botanist.

"How'd you know?" He laughed, glancing down at your lips briefly. You knew what he was thinking: that it had been awhile and maybe he could risk just a little peck. Mark was a reckless one, that's for sure.

"Guys, quit flirting so loudly. I was trying to get a few minutes extra sleep before Lewis pulls out the bugle," Beck strolled in and grabbed a ration packet.

"Flirting? With him?" You asked incredulously, jabbing your thumb toward Mark.

"And vice versa," Beck shrugged.

"You must be seeing things, maybe we should call a doctor?" Watney sassily took a sip of his drink.

"Hilarious," Beck replied. Chris had been fighting for you and Mark to get together for about as long as you've known him (which is a decent number of years, in case you were wondering.) Little did he know you had already jumped that fence. You felt bad for keeping it from him, but you were sure he'd understand given his thing with Johanssen.

"Oh good, you guys are already up." Lewis sighed "hey, can one of you wake up Martinez? He's not listening to a single word I say."

You gave Watney a sidelong glance. He groaned and downed the rest of his terrible space coffee. "Yeah sure, I can go get the bastard. I'll give him a piece of my mind while I'm at it." Mark stomped off to the bunks and Lewis followed him. You casually sat beside Beck, who gave you a knowing smile.

"You know Chris, it would probably happen on its own if you didn't push it so much." You mumbled against the rim of your cup in an attempt to hide a smile.

"It's obvious he likes you too. Practically written all over his face," Beck said. "Honestly though, you two don't even realize when you're flirting. It's kind of incredible."

You huffed, "Now's not the best time for all that, you know."

"I know, I know. Just, keep it on the table okay?"

"Whatever you say Dr. Beck," You snickered. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have an EVA to prep for."

Chris rolled his eyes and poked at the food on his plate, "you're excused."

~~~

"Alright team, stay in sight of each other. Let's make NASA proud today." Lewis announced.

"How's it looking over there Watney?" Martinez asked.

"Well, you'll be happy to hear that in grid section 14/28, the particles are predominantly coarse. But in 29 they're uh... much finer. That should be ideal for chem analysis."

"Oh wow! did everyone hear that? Mark just discovered dirt! Should we alert the media?" Martinez teased. Mark glanced up at you, but you couldn't see his face behind the helmet.

"Hey, you better watch it fly boy. I'm working this grid too!" You laughed.

"Sorry, what are you doing today Martinez? Making sure the MAV is still upright?" You could hear the smirk in Mark's voice.

"Well, I'd like you to know that visual inspection of the equipment is imperative to mission success," Rick preached. "I'd also like to report that the MAV is still upright."

You and Mark giggled as you worked on the grid. "Watney, you're keeping your channel open, which leads to Martinez responding, which leads to all of us listening, which leads to me being annoyed," Lewis scolded halfheartedly.

"Roger that, Martinez the captain would like you to please uh," Mark looked at you for approval and continued. "Shut your smart mouth."

Rick cackled and you playfully nudged Mark on the shoulder.

"We'd prefer you use a different adjective to describe Martinez's mouth." Beck said from inside the Hab, resulting in even more laughter from the rest of the crew.

"Did Beck just insult me?!"

"Dr. Beck and yes!"

"I'm happy to turn the radios off from here commander. Just say the word." Johanssen suggested.

"Johanssen, constant communication is the hallmark-" Watney started.

"Shut him off" Melissa gave the order.

"No-" Johanssen cut him off. Mark tossed his little hammer in the dirt and looked back at the captain like she had just kicked a kitten. You patted the shoulder of his suit and urged him to get back to work.

"I'm sorry for my countrymen, Vogel." Lewis said.

"Accepted," Vogel shrugged and glanced up at the sky. "The storm... It's closer than Houston reported."

"We've got time," Lewis said. "Focus on the task at hand. This EVA's all about chemical analysis. Vogel, you're the chemist so you're in charge of what we dig up."

"Ja, Please dig thirty centimeters and get soil samples. At least one hundred grams each. Very important is thirty centimeters down." Vogel clarified, eyes back on his work.

"Will do, stay within a hundred meters of the Hab," Lewis said.

You worked in peace and quiet for a few minutes. You measured the grid while Mark hammered the grid labels. You could hardly wait to take samples. Mark was right, it was perfect for chem analysis. Unfortunately, your work was short-lived because Johanssen had some bad news.

"Commander, you should come inside. You're gonna want to see this."

"What is it?" Lewis asked.

"Houston has upgraded the storm to 'severe.' It's going to be here in fifteen minutes." Johanssen said.

You perked your head up to get a look at the sky. Already it was getting darker.

"Martinez, how's it looking?" Asked commander Lewis.

"Not good." He said.

After a moment of contemplation, Lewis made her decision. "Back to base."

~~~

The Hab shook and the sound of wind and debris outside only exacerbated the tension within. Lewis commanded everyone to put on their flight suits and you congregated around the screen, wondering if this was the end of your mission.

"Sustained winds over one hundred kilometers per hour now. Gusting to one twenty-five," Johanssen frowned.

"Jesus, we're gonna end up in Oz," Watney said. "What's the abort speed?"

"One fifty kilometers per hour, anymore than that and the MAV's in danger of tipping." Martinez placed his hands on his hips.

"Any predictions on the storm track?" Lewis asked.

"This is the edge of it... It's gonna get worse before it gets better." Johanssen delivered the bad news with confidence. Silence fell over the group and you grabbed Mark's hand. You wished you could feel the warmth, but the gloves on the flight suit acted as a barrier. Watney met your sorrowful eyes. You'd have to end the mission before it even started. He let go of your hand and pressed you into his side. It was over. 25 sols early. You leaned your head against his shoulder and willed the grief to subside.

"Alright, prep for abort. We'll go to the MAV and hope for the best. If the wind gets too high, we launch." Lewis grabbed her helmet.

~~~

Outside the Hab, the wind was disastrous. Mark was nearly swept off his feet by the force of the gusts. He slammed into you, but you managed to keep him on his feet.

"Shit! Thanks." Watney regained his balance.

"Visibility is almost zero. If you get lost, hone in on my suit's telemetry! The wind's gonna be rougher away from the Hab, so be ready!" Lewis warned.

The Ares crew stumbled toward the MAV with ever increasing uncertainty. You had to lean into the wind to avoid being thrown backward. Mark wasn't doing much better. It didn't help that his mind wasn't on getting to the MAV safely, it was on how to keep it upright. Watney was smart, too smart for his own good.

"Hey," Watney panted. "Maybe we could shore up the MAV. Make tipping less likely."

"How?" Lewis Huffed.

"We could use cables from the solar farm as guylines. The rovers could be anchors. The trick would be getting the line around the-"

You choked on your scream as Mark was struck by a massive piece of wreckage, sending him off into the disorienting mist of dust and wind.

"MARK!" You screamed and tried to stumble after him, but you could barely see an inch in front of your helmet.

"What happened?" Lewis said.

"Something hit him!" Johanssen said shakily.

"Watney report..." Lewis said. You listened hard and prayed he'd answer. "Watney, report!" Nothing.

"He's offline, I don't know where he is." Johanssen reported as calmly as she could. You bit back a whimper as you shuffled forward.

"Commander, before we lost telemetry, his decompression alarm went off!" Beck said.

"Shit! Y/L/N, where did you last see him?" Lewis asked.

"H-he was right in front of me and then he was gone," you managed. "He flew off due west" You pointed.

"Okay, Martinez, get to the MAV and prep for launch. Everyone else, home in on Johanssen."

"Dr. Beck, how long can a person survive decompression?" Vogel asked.

"Less than a minute." Beck looked back at you. You could hear the pain in his voice. No. Mark couldn't be... He was just beside you a moment ago.

"Commander, the MAV's got a seven degree tilt. It'll tip at 12.3."

"Copy that."

He's alive, he can't be dead!

"Johanssen, Watney's bio-monitor sent something before going offline. My computer just says 'Bad Packet,'" Beck said.

"Give me a sec," Johanssen said.

"Commander, message from Houston. We're officially scrubbed. The storm's definitely too rough."

"Copy."

"Beck, I have the raw packet!" Johanssen said, "It's plaintext: BP 0, PR 0, TP 36.2. That's as far as I got."

Beck sighed and shook his head. "Blood pressure zero, pulse rate zero, temperature normal..."

Your chest tightened and your eyes burned. "Temperature normal?" You asked hopefully.

"It takes a while for the-" Beck swallowed. "It takes awhile to cool."

"Commander, tilting at 10.5 degrees now, with gusts pushing it to 11." Martinez reported.

"Copy, if it tips, launch."

"What about you commander?"

"I'm going to search a little more."

"You really think I'll leave you behind?" Martinez asked.

"I just ordered you to. You four, get to the ship." Lewis replied.

"Let me help search commander, we'll find him faster if we-" Lewis cut you off.

"That's an order, Y/L/N. Go."

Beck nudged you forward. You reluctantly allowed him to.

"Johanssen, would the rover IR camera do any good?"

"Negative. IR can't get through sand any better than visible light."

"What about the proximity radar? Could it detect Watney's suit?"

"No way. It's made to see Hermes, not the metal in a single space suit."

"Give it a try," Lewis ordered.

"Commander, I know you don't want to hear this... but Wat-... Mark's dead." Beck said.

No.

No.

Please...

Everything around you was a blur. You went through the motions from training. Strapping yourself in, readying your station, waiting for launch. You couldn't look at the empty seat beside you. You couldn't think about anything but your job right now, If you allowed your thoughts to that dark place, you'd have to be dragged along by the rest of the crew.

You couldn't do that to them. Not now.

Lewis returned to the ship and strapped herself in. "Still at pilot-release," Martinez said softly. "Ready for launch."

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I'm sorry Commander, you need to verbally-"

"Launch."

You felt the bone-crushing power of ascent. The g's did nothing but forcefully push the tears from your eyes.

You wish it would have been you.

~~~

Mark Watney closed out of the mission log application and stared at the computer screen for a few minutes. He couldn't fathom the hopelessness he was feeling, it was too deep to swim out of. What else was there to do but sit and wait to die? Maybe it would be easier to just go into the airlock and open the doors!

Watney turned his head to a picture of you on the wall behind the computer. It was there among other pictures of the crew and their families. You were standing with your brother in front of one of those rickety wooden roller coasters at Six Flags. He felt a painful twinge in his chest. You thought he was dead and there was no way to tell you otherwise.

He was completely alone, had the whole goddamned planet to himself. Mark rubbed his hands over his face. "Fuck..." he said. "Fuck!" he pulled at the hair on his head before looking up at the picture again. He wished he would have kissed you. He wanted to that morning when you were sharing coffee. He should have said he loved you. Mark hadn't said it in so long.

He knew you like the back of his hand. You were blaming yourself. Everyone in the crew was probably doing the same. He could barely stomach the thought.

Mark grabbed the picture from the wall and shuffled to the bunks. He was so tired and in a lot of pain from the stupid antenna. He was about to settle into his bed, when his eyes landed on yours. After a moment of deliberation, he hobbled into your bunk and pulled the covers up to his chin. It still smelled like you. He buried his face into your pillow and cried.

~~~

You sat in the dining area in the Hermes, watching as the windows slowly spun around. It had been about a week since the incident and you weren't sure you had any more tears left to cry. You did your best to keep on task during your waking hours, only allowing yourself to feel when everyone else was either asleep or taking the piloting shift.

Your fingers drummed lightly against the table, mingling with the beeps, boops, groans, and hums of the ship keeping you safe from the unforgiving vacuum of space. You thought about a lot of things. About Mark, his parents, the house he wanted so badly to buy, his favorite music, his plants growing in the botany lab... The one thing you didn't want to think about was his body, how it would be buried by sand and dust within the year, how Mars would never let it decay. You tried not to think about how if you had just reached for him, maybe he'd still be alive.

"Y/N?" A familiar German accent spoke. You tensed and dared a glance back at Vogel.

"Hey, what's up?" You plastered a grin on your face.

"I have noticed you've not been sleeping. You are... Okay?" He asked, lumbering closer. He was clearly very tired and you felt terrible he was here worrying about you instead of getting some much deserved rest.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm okay Alex, just... Can't sleep." You sighed.

"Have you spoken to doctor Beck? I am sure we have sleep medication on board."

"Oh I know... I just don't really want to bother him, you know? I mean, we're all going through it right now..." You shifted under his gaze.

"You are having bad dreams," Vogel stated. "You're afraid if you sleep, they will come back."

"How could you tell?" You peeked tiredly up at him.

"My little monkeys... before I left, some of them had bad dreams. A father can always tell." He sat down beside you at the table.

You felt your eyes burning again. You hadn't dared ask for comfort from your crew mates, not even Chris. Now that you were receiving it, you wished you had asked for it long ago. There was a hellish cocktail of emotions running through you: relief, sadness, safety, longing, despair. You were so relieved that Alex was here. You were sad to think about how deeply his loved ones must be missing him. You thought about what Alex said about his "little monkeys." Mark would have made a great father if he'd only had the chance.

"You love him. Very much," Vogel said.

"I did..." You whispered.

"You do." Alex grabbed your hand and the tears poured from your eyes. "You do..."

"I do," You let out a choked sob. Vogel pulled you into a gentle hug.

"This pain of loss we feel... It will never go away. But it will get easier to live with as time goes by. This, I promise is true."

"Thank you Alex." You whispered.

"You're welcome..." He patted your back and pulled away. "Now, shall we try some rest?"

"I'll try," you put on a brave face.

"And- what is it?-" He thought aloud. "When first you don't succeed-"

"Try try again," You said with a sad smile. "Words to live by."

~~~

LOG ENTRY: SOL 23

So, I'm still brain storming the whole, "Mark Watney can only really make his potato farm last 90 days," problem. Can't say It's going too well. I'm surrounded by the stench of my own shit. Kinda distracting.

I've made the executive decision to take a long overdue break out in the rover. Sure, logically I know I should probably utilize every spare second on planning my survival right down to the last drop of water, but riddle me this: just who is gonna stop me? Not NASA, that's for sure.

It's funny. I came into the rover to escape the rancid poop smell, but it seems to have followed me. Turns out, I was the poop smell all along! If Y/N were here, they would have forcibly shoved into the shower. They'd say something like... "Don't even think about touching me until you smell like ocean breeze!" (What does ocean breeze even smell like? How do you smell a breeze?...)There are few things in life Y/N hates more than stink. Me being on Mars is probably one of them.

What I would give to see you right now. Even just a dream would be nice, but I guess that's asking too much.

I miss my parents a lot. Maybe that's an understatement. I haven't really let myself think about it, but sitting here in this cramped rover really has my mind wandering. I really should have told them about Y/N. Maybe if things don't work out for me, they could confide in each other.

I don't have much else to say. The calculations aren't done and quite frankly, I'm depressed.

I'll probably scrub this log from the system, It's kind of a downer.

~~~

You had been doing better. Getting at least 6 hours of sleep a day was an accomplishment and you were eating your meals, but a certain date on the calendar was growing closer. You made yourself busier and busier, but no amount of work would keep this day from coming.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 62

On Earth it's January 8th, which is a very special day. Our anniversary! It's official, we've been together for three years! Yeah, yeah I hear you. These logs are for work purposes only, but I promise no one's gonna see this one. Not even you.

I think about that day a lot. It was freezing outside and snowing everywhere. I don't even remember why we walked to the cafe that day, but I'm thankful for it. You were holding your hot cup so tightly and your coat wasn't nearly thick enough for the weather. You were complaining that the snow came early and I laughed at you.

I think we both knew for a long time that this would happen. A year at least. We kept ourselves just at arms length, on the brink of lovers without ever crossing that line. We never discussed it before, but we knew once the mission was over, we'd do it. We'd take that step.

I had wanted to kiss you all day. Want isn't really the word for it. How about craved. Desired? Yearned~

I wrapped my coat around you and you complained again, said that I'd catch a cold and it would all be your fault. The way you looked at me... Still gives me chills when I think about it. It's like I'm still standing on that sidewalk, snowflakes landing on my nose.

I told you, "I can think of something that'll warm us both up..."

You said, "Then what are you waiting for?"

I was right of course. I always am. I just didn't expect you to be so... magnetizing! Like damn babe, you had me weak in the knees! (What am I, a Disney princess?)

I'll be back with you someday. It'll be your anniversary present from me. You're welcome in advance. XOXO - World's Handsomest Boyfriend.

-P.S. You left your deodorant in the Hab. I've been using it. Totally not creepy.

-P.P.S. Who's the stinky one now?

-P.P.P.S. You better be prepared, when I get off this wasteland of a planet, I'm making up for lost time. You aren't gonna be able to walk for AT LEAST a week.

-P.P.P.P.S. I was talking about CUDDLING you perv~

(or was I? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°))

~~~

This had to be one of the greatest days in Mark Watney's life.

Contact.

Sweet, sweet contact!

[11:18]JPL: Mark, This is Venkat Kapoor. We've been watching you since Sol 49. The whole world's been rooting for you. Amazing job, getting Pathfinder. We're working on rescue plans. JPL is adjusting Ares 4's MDV to do a short overland flight. They'll pick you up, then take you with them to Schiaparelli. We're putting together a supply mission to keep you fed until Ares 4 arrives.

Watney could hardly believe it! Everything was working! They had known he was alive since Sol 49! His eyes were brimming and his breathing came out in short gasps as he fought to control himself. He used to take messages for granted, now they're the only tether he has to humanity.

He's not alone anymore.

His hands shook as he wrote out his message.

[11:29]Watney: Glad to hear it. Really looking forward to not dying. I want to make it clear it wasn't the crew's fault. What did they say when they found out I was alive?

Mark shifted in his seat. The reply was taking a bit longer than expected. He hadn't talked to anyone in so long. The thought of being so close, only to fail right in the beginning was terrifying. He wasn't sure he could survive that kind of disappointment.

[11:48]JPL: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to focus on their own mission.

What. The. Fuck.

Mark covered his face with his hands and released a frustrated groan. "You've got to be shitting me!"

You didn't know. You didn't know he was alive.

"What the fuck? Wha... What the fuck?!" He took a shaky breath and wrestled with his frustration.

[12:05]Watney: They don't know I'm alive? What the fuck? WTF? Seriously! What the fuck is wrong with you?

[12:23]JPL: Please watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcast live all over the entire world.

They did not just say that.

After everything he has been through, there is no way JPL just told him to watch his language.

So, that's how they want to play it, huh?

[12:42]Watney: Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck shit fuck shit fuck! Fuck fuckity fuckfuckfuck! Oh look! A pair of boobs!-> (.Y.) How's that for watching my language, you goddamned bureaucratic felchers!

NASA got the message loud and clear.

~~~

Four months passed and you fell into a routine. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, repeat. It was predictable, which was something you were thankful for.

You took on Watney's role as the ship's botanist. You weren't as good as him, but really, who was? You couldn't match his skill even if you tried. Still, you followed all of his experiments. Took diligent notes and snapped as many pictures as you could.

Martinez joked that you took better care of the plants than yourself. It was one of those jokes meant to expose an underlying issue: You weren't looking after yourself. There was a shadow hanging over everything you did. The crew was experiencing it too. Mark Watney was one of a kind. Everyone he touched felt his loss so viscerally, so deeply.

You needed time, just like Vogel said. But that didn't mean everyone had to be okay with you beating yourself up like this.

Lewis knew better than anyone how you were feeling. As the Commander, she should have tried a little harder. And you... You were right there in arm's reach. Yes, Lewis knew how you felt only too well.

You heard a faint Knock in the doorway. You looked up from the camera and met Beck's eyes.

"Data dump will be completed soon. Care to join?" He smiled.

You managed a smile back, "Yeah, sure. I'm hoping I got something from my siblings. Maybe my niece and nephew too." You strapped the camera to the wall so it wouldn't float away, then you pushed yourself toward your crewmate.

"How about your parents?" He asked.

"Oh, that's a given. I can't get them to leave me alone," you chuckled.

You floated down to Semicone-A, where everyone else was already waiting for the data dump.

"Is it here yet?" Beck asked.

"Almost, it's at ninety-eight percent." Johanssen shot him a grin.

"You're looking cheerful, Martinez," Beck laughed.

"My son turned three yesterday." He beamed. Should be some pics of the party. How about you?"

"Oh, nothing special. Just some peer reviews of a paper I wrote a few years back."

"Complete," Johanssen said. "All the personal e-mails are dispatched to your laptops. Also there's a telemetry update for Vogel and a system update for me....Huh.... There's a voice message addressed to the whole crew."

"Play it." Lewis shrugged. Everyone gathered around the screen as Beth pressed play.

"Hermes, this is Mitch Henderson," the message started.

"Henderson? Talking directly to us without CAPCOM?"

Lewis raised her hand to signal silence.

"I have some news. There's no subtle way to put this:.....Mark Watney's still alive."

Your stomach dropped.

"Wha-" Beck choked.

"I know that's a surprise. And I know you'll have a lot of questions. We're going to answer those questions. But for now I'll just give you the basics. He's alive and healthy. We found out two months ago and decided not to tell you. I was strongly against all that. We're telling you now because we finally have communication with him and a viable rescue plan. It boils down to Ares 4 picking him up with a modified MDV. We'll get you a full write-up of what happened, but it's definitely not your fault. Mark stresses that every time it comes up."

You clenched your eyes shut as they burned painfully with tears.

"Take some time to absorb this. Your science schedules are cleared for tomorrow. Send all the questions you want and we'll answer them. Henderson out."

Silence fell over the bridge.

"He...He's alive?" Martinez beamed.

"He lives." Vogel nodded excitedly and squeezed your shoulder.

"Holy shit!" Beck laughed. "Holy shit! Commander! He's alive!"

"I left him behind," Lewis muttered.

You covered your eyes with your hands, fighting to stay quiet.

"No, hey... we all left togeth-"

"You followed orders...I left him behind. In a barren, unreachable, godforsaken wasteland." Lewis scowled and trudged off the bridge.

Everyone stood around the console. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Y/N?" Chris asked softly.

"Are you okay?" Beth added.

You shook your head. You couldn't look at any of them right now.

"I need a minute..." you said softly before hurrying back out of the Semicone. You retreated back to the comfort of the botany lab. It was all so much to process.

First Mark is dead, you left him behind to die. Then Mark is alive, you left him behind to die. He doesn't want you to blame yourselves, it was terrible luck. He's healthy. He can contact Earth. Mars is a desolate planet. He's all alone. On an entire planet. You left him there. He will never be safe until he's back on Earth soil. It will be four years until Ares 4 arrives.

He will be alone on Mars for four years.

You left him there.

~~~

Y/N,

I'm typing this letter to you because talking to you relaxes me. I won't actually be sending this to you. It's not going to be professional in nature like the other notes I've sent you. (JPL says that you have received all of them, but have neglected to send me any of your responses. The only one I have gotten from any of the crew was one from Lewis. She invited me for beer to make up for leaving me on Mars.)

Anyway, some bad stuff happened. I wish you were here. Not because I want you to have been launched by an airlock. Never that. I just really fucking miss you. I really need you right now. I almost died last night. I had to do some serious surgery on my suit to keep me alive and I had to sift through the dilapidated remnants of the Hab to find a new one.

I'm so tired. I just want you to hold me. I'm so sick of all of this. Fuck Mars, Fuck the Hab. I'm so sick and tired of getting my hopes up and being disappointed. I miss you so much. You make every one of my bad days good. I know if you were here, everything would be okay again.

Why did this have to happen?

Mars keeps throwing curve balls at me, but I'm not giving up. I've got a lot to look forward to and I'm trying to focus on that.

-Mark

P.S. Your bed stopped smelling like you a month ago.

~~~

The crew of Ares 3 met in the Rec. A secret message had arrived not even an hour ago. One that would alter their mission by 533 extra days.

"Are we going to do it?" Johanssen asked.

"I won't lie, I'd sure as hell like to. But this isn't a normal decision. This is something NASA expressly rejected. We're talking about mutiny. And that's not a word I throw around lightly," Lewis explained. "We'll only do it if we all agree. And before you answer, consider the consequences. If we mess up the supply rendezvous, we die. If we mess up the Earth gravity assist, we die. If we do everything correctly, we add 533 days to our mission. 533 days of unplanned space travel where anything could go wrong. Maintenance will be a hassle. Something might break that we can't fix. If it's life-critical, we die."

"Sign me up!" Martinez announced, causing you to smile. At least someone else was as enthusiastic to bring Mark home as you were.

"Easy, cowboy. You and I are military. There's a good chance we'd be court-martialed when we get home. As for the rest of you, I guarantee they'll never send you up again," Lewis said.

"If we do this," Vogel looked to you and back at Lewis. "It would mean over one thousand days of space. This is enough space for a life. I do not need to return."

You couldn't have possibly said it better yourself. It was like Alex was reading your mind.

"Sounds like Vogel's in. Me too obviously," Martinez laughed.

"Let's do it," Beck agreed.

"If you think it'll work, I trust you," Johanssen said.

Lewis nodded and turned to you. "Y/L/N?"

"You don't even need to ask me. Let's go get our boy," You smiled.

Wow. This is the first time you've smiled... a real smile, since leaving Mars.

'Hang in there babe,' You thought. 'I'm on my way.'

~~~

LOG ENTRY: SOL 192-2

Yep, another secret letter do my dear, long lost love~ How predictable. I don't really care, today's been a great day. I can't believe you're coming back for me! Here I was, thinking I'd have to survive without you for four years. Then there you go, riding in from the sunset to bring me home.

Logically I know the rest of the crew had something to do with it, but I kind of like the idea that maybe I am a Disney princess and you're my knight in shining armor coming to rescue me.

It's like the story of Rapunzel, except my tower is a whole planet and instead of catching my hair, you're catching my MAV. Now that I think about it, the stories are more different than they are similar.

That hardly matters though, what does matter is that for the first time I actually feel like I'll survive. I trust our team with every fiber of my being, but most of all I trust you. I'm gonna rest easy tonight. And in the morning I'll start my work on the rovers!

See you in about a year babe! I'll be counting down the hours. Literally.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 426

Happy anniversary Y/N! You thought I'd forget? Never! You know why that is? Because I fucking love you, that's why!

Four years we've been together as of today, that's assuming we are counting the year we've been apart as "being together", (which I do.) Today I'm really beating myself up over frying Pathfinder with my drill all those months ago. It was my only form of communication with you and I royally fucked it up.

You'd think that cutting myself off from Earth, NASA and humanity at large would be what upset me the most. Nope, it's the fact that I can't send you a super sneaky secret anniversary e-mail. I also missed my parents' birthdays, your birthday, Christmas AND Thanksgiving. Twice. Also, fucking Valentine's day! I used to hate that holiday before I met you.

Anyway, as you can see, I totally have all my priorities in order! Also! I got you a present~ Since you have no way to read this, I don't feel bad spoiling it for you. I found a little rock. It's in the shape of a heart.

Awwww wow! That's cute, I just realized that I'm giving you my heart for our anniversary! To be honest, you had it a long time ago.

I miss you. I miss your smell, your eyes, the feel of your skin. Most of all, I really, really miss your voice. I just want to hear you. I've forgotten what you sound like. I'm scared If I didn't have this picture of you and your brother, I'd forget what your face looks like too.

I'm starting my long commute to Schiaparelli in 23 days. It'll be a two month drive. I really hate driving in the rover. But if it gets me to you, who cares? I'm stalling. I've got a lot of work tomorrow and I just want to enjoy today. I wish I was there with you to enjoy it obviously, but we can't all get what we want (least of all, me.) I've learned how to settle.

Speaking of settling, what do you think about getting married in the woods, or a big grassy field? I'd like there to be as much green as possible. No red or orange, we're talking the opposite side of the color wheel here. I can picture you walking down the aisle. I'll be an absolute mess, but who cares. You're the love of my life. Thanks for, y'know, coming back to pick me up instead of leaving me to die on Mars.

I hope you like the rock.

-Mark

P.S. I grew a beard and my hair looks like the 80's had a baby with a grease monster. You'd hate it.

P.P.S. I hope you're into pirates~

P.P.P.S. Y/N Watney... Mark Y/L/N... hmmmmm, so hard to choose!

P.P.P.P.S. We are never eating potatoes again.

P.P.P.P.P.S And ABSOLUTELY NO DISCO MUSIC!

~~~

You stared at Mars creeping back into view. The last time you were here, Mark was sitting beside you, arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. Maybe it wasn't your most subtle of moments, but how could anyone not be enthralled by the beauty of the red planet? Even now it was hard not to feel stricken with wonder.

Sometimes your mind played tricks on you. You'd see a speck of dust on the window and think you could see Watney on the surface. That was ridiculous of course, There is no possible way to see an individual person this far out. That didn't stop you from imagining it.

NASA had briefed everyone on the Martian's health, explained that he wouldn't look the same as the last time you saw him. You expected as much, but the thought still worried you. It wasn't that you were worried if you'd still find him attractive, there was no force on Earth or beyond that could change how much you loved Mark Watney. It was his health that worried you.

During all your back and forth questions with NASA that Henderson had arranged, you inquired about his health. They said he was doing well, but that he was stretching his little amount of food to its limits. That's what scared you the most. How would his immune system fare? How would he acclimate back to normal food on Earth? All of these questions went unanswered. NASA was honest, "we won't know for sure until he gets here."

"Mind if I join you?" Lewis asked softly, floating a short distance away.

"Of course Commander. I'd like the company," You said. It was surprising to realize you actually meant it. It'd been awhile since you wanted to spend time with anyone.

Melissa floated further into the cupola and settled beside you.

"Crazy to think that in a few days he'll be up here with us again..." Lewis said softly.

"Yeah..." you said softly, keeping your eyes ahead.

"I know how much you miss him... You two were always great friends."

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the pit in your stomach as you nodded. "Yeah..."

You could see Lewis looking at you out of the corner of your eye. Her expression was conflicted. "I'm really sorry this happened. I know it's been hard on you. I should have searched a little longer-"

"Commander." You stopped her from continuing. "You did all you could. You made the right decision. I wish none of this had happened, but none of this was your fault. It couldn't have been easy to make the choice, and I'm willing to bet that if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't have been strong enough to do it. I'm sure everyone else feels the same exact way, Mark included." You placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Thanks, that's... Thank you," Melissa smiled.

"We're a team, that's what we do. We keep each other grounded."

"That's actually sort of what I wanted to talk to you about..."

"What do you mean?"

"NASA just sent the message a few minutes ago. They're letting us talk to Watney... Directly," Lewis said. You blinked in surprise. No matter how many times you asked, NASA wouldn't allow any kind of direct communication. You wondered why the sudden change of heart.

"Henderson thinks we need to remind him of what he has to look forward to, keep his eyes on the prize so to speak. At least, that's how he's been pitching it to the director. Anyway, the rest of the crew and I agree you should be the one to do it," she finished.

"R-really? I can talk to him?" You asked hopefully, hoping this wasn't a dream.

"Y/N, I can't think of anyone else he would need to hear from more."

~~~

Mark was waiting by the coms in the MAV for any final updates from NASA regarding the meticulous destruction of his ship, piece by piece. He had just finished taking out the main window and it was heavy as hell, even in Mars gravity. He was happy he at least had some time to rest after all that hard work. If he was lucky, maybe they'd wait too long and it would be too dark to get any work done. He could use a good sleep, it seemed like he was needing it more and more lately. Watney suddenly heard the telltale beeps that signaled an incoming message. He was expecting a barrage of questions about his progress, instead he got something so much better.

[19:22] Y/L/N: Hey, Mark.

Mark's voice got caught in his throat.

Y/N.

It had been so fucking long since he talked to you. His eyes burned and his hands shook. Watney leaned his head back in relief, thanking god for this incredible gift. "I just about gave up on you man..." Mark smiled to the sky before nervously typing back.

[19:23] MAV: Y/N!? Holy crap! They're finally letting you talk to me directly?

You released a sigh and covered your face with your hands. He was responding! Really responding! Everyone was looking at you. Beck beamed at you while Martinez watched on with interest. Lewis was waiting to see if you could handle it. No way you were gonna let this one chance slip through your fingers. You sniffed and wiped your eyes before responding.

[19:24] Y/L/N: Yes, NASA just gave the OK for direct communication an hour ago. We're only 35 light-seconds apart, so we can talk in near-real time. Johanssen just set up the system and I'm testing it out.

Mark sighed and smiled. Level headed and professional as always. How you had such self control, he had no idea.

[19:24] MAV: What took them so long to let us talk?

You looked up at Lewis, silently asking if you could relay the truth. She nodded.

[19:25] Y/L/N: The psych team was worried about personality conflicts. [19:25] MAV: Why? Just 'cause you guys abandoned me on a godforsaken planet with no chance of survival?

Mark typed without thinking and as soon as he hit send, he regretted it. He didn't want you to feel bad, It was a joke. You'd understand that right?

[19:26] Y/L/N: Not funny. Don't make me come down there and kick you.

Watney let out a choked laugh. Half a chuckle and half a sob.

[19:26] MAV: God I missed you.

You smiled at the screen and pushed down the urge to hug Martinez behind you. You were really talking to him! He was only 35 light-seconds away! Suddenly you realized you were blessed with an opportunity even more amazing than just talking with him. You could ask him what you had been asking in all of your disregarded emails!

[19:27] Y/L/N: We missed you too. I've had to take over the botany lab. You'll be happy to know I haven't killed any of your plants...Yet. How are you feeling? We've gotten a few updates from NASA regarding your health, but nothing in incredible detail.

Watney chuckled at the text appearing in front of him. 'Cute,' he thought.

[19:27] MAV: Awwww, are you worried about me?

The crew laughed and you shook your head, swiftly adding your response.

[19:28] Y/L/N: Do I really need to answer that?

Mark snickered and decided not to tease you. He wanted to tell you all of his woes and adequately prepare you for how much he had changed. But he didn't want to put a damper on the mood. Luckily, Watney was a master at sugarcoating.

[19:29] MAV: I'm doing okay. My clothing feels a little loose and I'm craving spaghetti. I'm also in desperate need of a shower. Other than that, I'm just fine. Looking forward to seeing you and the rest of the crew.

Your smile fell. You were happy he was being at least somewhat honest, but you knew it was probably worse than he was making out to be. Unfortunately, Watney was a master at sugarcoating.

[19:29] Y/L/N: We're looking forward to seeing you too. I think it's safe to say a big group hug is in order, if I can get Vogel in on it that is.

Watney hummed at the thought of holding you in his arms. The image was so clear, yet so far away.

[19:30] MAV: At this point, I'd even settle for holding hands. Group hug sounds nice. How are you doing Y/N? I wrote you a lot of emails.

You grimaced and thought your next words through very carefully. With the crew watching, it was hard to collect your thoughts.

[19:31] Y/L/N: I wrote you plenty of my own. There was only so much air time to be used outside of helping you survive. My guess is they put priority on Commander Lewis' emails. Rightfully so of course. I'm doing fine. I've missed you a lot. To be honest, a lot is probably a huge understatement. It's hard to express exactly what I want to say over message.

Mark nodded. You watched him presumably die, leave his 'body' behind, mourn his loss over a period of months, find out you left him there alive, be unable to talk to him for about a year, and suddenly he was here reading and responding to your messages, but you have to limit the details so as to keep those private thoughts private. He couldn't imagine what he would do if the roles were reversed. What you wanted to say needed to be kept between you and him. He understood. There was a lot he wanted to say too.

[19:32] MAV: I know what you mean. I'll be there soon, then you can tell me all about it in person. And I'll tell you all about my space crops and my long voyage to the MAV. Have I mentioned I'm a space pirate?

The crew laughed and for a moment, it felt like he was there. Really there.

[19:33] Y/L/N: Good to know you're still the funniest person on Mars. [19:33] MAV: Thanks! [19:33] MAV: Wait a minute! Rude! Don't make me come up there! [19:34] Y/L/N: Don't threaten me with a good time, Watney. [19:34] MAV: ;)

You were about to make some really elaborate emoji out of parentheses and dots, when you saw a notification from NASA. Playtime was over. You scowled as you broke the news to your boyfriend.

[19:34] Y/L/N: I hate to cut this short, but NASA wants us to keep the line open. We'll be in touch asking for updates on your progress, but don't expect too much witty banter.

Mark's heart sank a little, but there was no use in leaving such a perfect night on a sour note.

[19:35] MAV: Figures. NASA never lets me do anything fun! Tell the others I said hi. [19:36] Y/L/N: I'll be sure to pass it along!

Mark's leg tapped nervously. He knew NASA was right about keeping the line open, but he really didn't want it to end yet.

[19:36] MAV: Hey, thanks for coming to get my sorry ass. [19:36] Y/L/N: No thanks necessary. We'd do it a million times over.

Watney knew you meant it. He could feel the warmth through the bland MAV text on the screen. He couldn't wait to be up there with you...But what if something went wrong? Fuck, don't think about this now! Everything's going to be fine! Right? But what if... There was always a chance, especially on Mars, that things would not go your way. And the likelihood of him surviving this mission was slim at best. He needed to tell you. He should have said it a lot more. A whisper here and there in the hallways, maybe some stupid middle school secret code. Like hell he was going to pass up this one chance, consequences be damned.

[19:37] MAV: I love you, Y/N.

Your heart lurched in your chest. The room fell silent. Martinez lightly squeezed your shoulder. Your eyes flitted around the room to your colleagues. All of them stared with bewildered looks on their faces. What were you supposed to say? What if you got him in trouble? If he was worried about that, why would he send this in the first place?

'You know what, Fuck it,' you thought.

Watney watched the screen with baited breath. "Please..." He whispered. "Please."

[19:38] Y/L/N: I love you too Mark. Sleep well, we'll be there before you know it.

Mark released a cry of joy and typed through the tears.

[19:39] MAV: You too. Goodnight. [19:39] Y/L/N: Goodnight, Mark.

The line received no new messages after that. Mark rested there a moment before retreating back to the rover. Once the airlock had engaged, he removed his helmet and admired the picture of you and your brother he had taped to the rover computer.

He used to take those words for granted. Why say it when you could show it? He showed it to you as often as he could... At least he used to. You never made him question it for a second. You gave him compliments, brought him water on late nights, listened to his nerdy ramblings about plants and D&D. He'd help you to bed when you were too tired to stand, work out the knots in your shoulders while you typed. Over a year has passed and your grip on his heart is still firm. And when you said those three little words, all of it made sense again. Mark Watney would never again question the power of I love you. He was going to remind you every chance he got. He was going to ask you for it as often as possible. His mom and dad would hear it in every phone call, and no more excluding his friends. He loved them too. He would say it until the term loses all meaning, then he'd remember this night where I love you saved his life.

Mark took off his gloves and danced his thin fingers over the photograph.

"See you soon, baby..." He whispered, "I love you."

~~~

You pulled on your headset and took a deep, self soothing breath. In an hour, the love of your life was going to be launched into Mars's orbit in what could barely be considered a MAV. The thing was a Frankenstein version of the shuttle you had taken off the planet nearly two years ago.

You shook your head. What Mark needed right now was confidence. You could do that.

"How you feeling Y/L/N?" Martinez smiled over at you.

"Like I'm gonna throw up," You laughed.

"Anxious huh?" He smirked, "For the launch, or for your man?"

"Both," You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes. Martinez and Beck hadn't stopped giving you crap for the I love you texts. You didn't mind too much, it was nice being able to acknowledge that side of your relationship with Mark. Unfortunately it made for some rather awkward conversations with the NASA administrators.

"You got nothing to worry about, he's in good hands," Rick said reassuringly.

"I know, we're all badass trained professionals with years of experience," you chuckled. "I can't help it. I'm built to worry."

"You've checked and double checked the telemetry. Johanssen confirmed all of your calculations. It's going to be a smooth ride for sure."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

//////////

Mark scowled at his reflection in the mirror and stroked his beard. He looked like shit, no way around it. He hadn't taken a moment to really look at himself for a long time and he couldn't say he liked what he saw.

"It's the end of an era," Watney said to nobody as he grabbed the razor. "No more captain blonde-beard."

Mark took his time shaving his chin and trimming the hair on his head. By the end of it, he still looked like shit but slightly less so. He felt a little more like himself at least.

He patted his chest to make sure the picture was still there, tucked under his uniform. It was there, along with his anniversary present to you. He slipped the headset over his ears and turned it on. It was nearly time to go. Watney pulled the suit on over his head and double checked if it was all on securely.

"I'm leaving Mars today, one way or another..." He whispered. "About fucking time."

//////////

"Fuel engine green," Your voice seemed to cause time itself to slow down. Not just for Mark, but for the entire world. "Engine alignment, perfect." Mark closed his eyes took a series of deep breaths, trying in vain to keep his emotions in check. "Communications five by five. We are ready for preflight checklist, Commander."

"Copy." Lewis said. "Mission Control, this is Hermes actual. We will proceed on schedule. we have T minus two minutes, ten seconds to launch... Mark." The commander turned her attention to the man of the hour. "About two minutes Watney. How you doing down there?"

"I'm good." He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm anxious to get up to you. Thanks for coming back for me."

You sniffed and shot a smile to Johanssen, who sent you a grin of her own.

"We're going to make it happen. Remember, You'll be pulling some pretty heavy g's. It's okay if you pass out. You're in Martinez's hands."

"Well, tell that asshole no barrel rolls."

"Copy that, MAV."

"CAPCOM."

"Go," you said.

Mark's bottom lip quivered

"Guidance."

"Go," Johanssen said.

"Remote Command."

"Go," Martinez said.

"Telemetry."

"Go," you said again.

He couldn't fight it anymore, he let the tears fall.

"Recovery."

"Go," Beck said.

"Secondary Recovery."

"Go," Vogel said.

"Pilot."

Mark steadied his voice before speaking, "go."

"Mission control, we are go for launch. T minus ten," You said.

"Nine."

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"Five."

Mark closed his eyes and focused on your voice. "See you in a few, baby..." He whispered.

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

The force of the blast was incredible, and growing more painful by the second. His breathing came out short and panicked as the Hab canvas rattled nightmarishly against the MAV. His panic only increased as the canvas ripped from the shuttle, exposing him to the full force of the MAV's thrust. He couldn't even scream. All he could do was watch the sky grow darker and darker.

"Watney." He heard your voice from far away.

"Watney, do you read me?" Your voice called again. His eyes drooped and his vision faded.

//////////

"Watney. Do you read?" You asked in the calmest voice you could muster.

"He's probably passed out. He pulled 12 g's on the ascent. Give him a few minutes," Beck said.

"Copy that." You said and turned your attention on the numbers before you. "I have interval pings. Intercept velocity will be eleven meters per second."

"I can make that work," Beck confirmed.

"Distance at intercept will be....we'll be sixty-eight kilometers apart..." You whimpered and buried your face in your hands.

"Did they say sixty-eight Kilometers? Kilometers?!" Beck cried.

"Keep it together, work the problem. Martinez, any juice left in the MAV?" Lewis asked.

"Negative, Commander."

"Then we'll have to go to him. Y/L/N, time to intercept?"

"Thirty-nine minutes, twelve seconds," You steeled yourself and focused on your coordinates.

"Martinez, what if we point the attitude thrusters all the same direction?" Lewis asked.

"Depends on how much we want to save for the attitude adjustments on the trip home."

"How much do you need?"

"I could get by with maybe twenty percent of what's left. If I use the other eighty percent... We'd get a delta-v of thirty-one meters per second."

"Y/L/N, Math."

"In thirty-nine minutes, we'd deflect....seventy-two kilometers! Use seventy-five point five percent of remaining attitude adjust fuel. That'll bring the intercept range to zero," You did the math quickly.

"Do it." Lewis said.

"Hold your horses, that'll get the range to zero, but the velocity will be forty-two meters per second."

"Then we have thirty-nine minutes to figure out how to slow down. Burn the jets."

//////////

Mark awoke to find himself spinning. Flashes of stars and the red glow of the Martian surface had him feeling a little dizzy. "MAV to Hermes?"

"Watney?" You gasped.

"Affirmative," he grunted.

"What's your status?" You asked calmly.

"Uhhh..." He winced and leaned back in his seat. "My chest hurts. I think I broke a rib. How are you, sweetheart?" He groaned.

"We're working on getting to you," you relayed. "There was a complication in the launch."

"Yeah," Watney dejectedly looked at the massive hole in the roof of his ship. "The canvas didn't hold. I think it ripped early in the ascent."

"That's consistent with what we saw during the launch," Lewis agreed.

"How bad is it, Commander?" he asked.

"We were able to correct the intercept range with Hermes's attitude thrusters, but there's a problem with the intercept velocity."

"How big a problem."

"Forty-two meters per second."

"Well..." Mark paused and tried to wrap his head around that number. "Shit."

//////////

You typed furiously, staring at your screen unblinkingly as you worked through all the possible ways to bring down the velocity.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Watney said.

"Of course you do, what have you got?" Lewis asked.

"I could find something sharp in here and poke a hole in my EVA suit. I could use the escaping air as a thruster and fly my way to you. The source of thrust would be on my arm, so I'd be able to control it pretty easily."

"How does he come up with this shit?" Martinez laughed.

"I can't see you having any control if you did. You'd be eyeballing the intercept using a thrust vector you can barely control."

"I admit it's fatally dangerous, but consider this: I'd get to fly around like Iron Man."

"We'll keep working on ideas," Lewis said.

"Iron Man, Commander. Iron Man."

"Stand by," Lewis temporarily cut contact with Watney.

You furrowed your brows at the screen, waiting for the correct course of action to jump out at you. Suddenly, there it was. "Wait! that's it!" you looked back at the Commander. "Mark's a genius! We could use the ship's atmosphere as thrust. We could blow the vehicular airlock. Seal the bridge and the reactor room. Iron Man... But bigger!"

"....." Melissa stared at you for a moment before addressing Alex. "Vogel?"

"Yes commander?"

"I need you to come inside and make a bomb," she ordered.

~~~

"I have visual, I can see the MAV," Beck said. "Jesus Mark, what did you do to that thing?"

"You should see the rover," Mark radioed. He was ready to get out of his goddamned chair, ready to get away from this hunk of junk that could barely be considered a MAV.

"Call out my velocity to Mark every two seconds or so," Chris said.

"Copy." You responded.

"Hey Beck, the front's wide open. I'll get up there and be ready to grab at you." Watney said.

"Negative, no untethered movement. Stay strapped to your chair until you're attached to Beck."

"Copy." Mark huffed. Lewis was right, impatience would be the death of him out here and he had come too far to die now. Instead, he focused on your voice calling out the relative velocity.

"Three point one meters per second."

"Eleven meters to target."

"Six meters."

"Contact." Beck grabbed the canvas of the destroyed MAV. "Firm contact."

"You have fourteen seconds Dr. Beck."

"Copy."

Nothing could have prepared Watney for how he'd feel seeing Beck's helmet poking through the opening.

Pure. Unadulterated. Serotonin.

"Visual on Watney!"

"Visual on Beck!"

"How ya doin' man?" Beck pushed himself toward Mark, meanwhile Mark was trying not to have another emotional breakdown.

"I....I just...Give me a minute, you're the first person I've seen in eighteen months," Watney croaked.

"We don't have a minute," Beck clumsily collided with Mark. "Contact with Watney... Connected!"

"Restraints off," Watney called.

"We're outta here!"

//////////

"Houston, this is Hermes actual. Seven crew safely aboard," Lewis's voice echoed in your mind as you, Martinez, Johanssen, and Lewis pushed yourselves toward the airlock where Vogel and Beck were bringing him in.

Mark.

You could see his dusty helmet from the small window on the airlock. Already you were feeling an overwhelming ache deep in your chest. There he was, only a few feet away, behind this door. Your crewmates flew in and clambered for Watney.

"Hey guys!" He laughed.

You were frozen in the doorway.

His helmet came off.

Everything slowed down.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. High fiving. Quick hugs. They all wanted to get as far away from the smell as they could.

Your eyes met.

There were beads of what looked like water floating in the air. When did you start crying?

Mark held out his arms to you and you wasted no more time. He hugged you as tightly as he could with the bulky arms of his EVA suit. His face buried into your neck as he cried softly. "Y/N...." He whispered in a broken voice. "Y-Y/N?"

"I'm right here Mark... Right here." You cradled the back of his head, scratching that spot at the base of his neck. He always liked it when you did that

"I stink, don't I?" Watney laughed in between sobs.

"You do. You really do," You tried to keep up the joke. "But if im being completely honest, I couldn't possibly care less," you laughed.

Slowly, you pulled back so you could get a good look at his face. He was thin. Gaunt, and covered in bed sores. That should have been expected of course, It's not like he had anywhere to shower in the rover. He looked at you like you were an angel. He looked embarrassed, like he wanted to hide.

Your fingers danced over his cheek and his eyes fluttered closed at the tenderness. The crew watched on with pride and varying degrees of bashfulness.

Mark opened his eyes and stared at you pleadingly as orbs of tears flowed from their corners. "Y/N... Please..." He whispered.

You didn't hesitate for a second.

You grabbed the sides of Mark's face and smashed your lips against his. So soft... your hands are so soft and your lips are trembling. The heat of your skin, the scent of your hair. It was even better than he remembered. He couldn't breathe, he could barely even think. He wanted so desperately to kiss you back, to fall into your embrace until there's no space left between, but his ribs hurt like hell and his suit was in the way. Mark whimpered as your fingers tangled into his hair. Fuck. Fuck. 'Everything hurts baby, please don't stop kissing me,' he pleaded in his head. 'Don't stop.'

When you started pulling away, he reached out to pull you closer again, but winced when he moved his arm.

"Slow down, baby." You breathed and pressed a little smooch to his forehead.

"Alright love birds, I need to get Iron Man over here to sick bay."

"But-" Watney protested.

"No buts, you need an X-ray and a shower. Maybe three." Beck laughed.

Mark looked at you pleadingly and you caressed his face. "I'll be by once Beck fixes you up. I gotta help check the ship for damage. Okay?"

He nodded and smiled. "Don't miss me too much~"

"You seek the impossible, Watney." You kissed his forehead again and let Chris lead your Martian down the hall to his quarters.

"Wow," Martinez said "I can't decide if that was incredibly romantic or incredibly awkward."

"Shut up Martinez," You playfully shoved his shoulder.

"Honestly though, he smells terrible! You've got some nerves of steel, Y/L/N," Johanssen joked.

"My boyfriend just spent eighteen months alone on a remote planet, If he wants a kiss he's gonna get that goddamned kiss. Definitely not a quick one and definitely not a half-assed one. But I will say one thing," you grinned.

"What's that?" Lewis smirked.

"He's not getting another one until he brushes his teeth."

~~~

Mark settled into his bunk after what felt like hours. He finally had a bath. Five, in fact. The showers were on a timer to conserve water. He had to run that timer five times before he finally felt clean. The water hurt the sores on his skin, but he felt so much better afterward that he almost wanted to go in for a sixth one. Mark brushed his teeth about three times and got rid of all the tangles in his hair. He'd need someone to touch up the cutting job he did. Now that it was all brushed out, it looked astoundingly bad.

After his long grooming session, Beck took an X-ray and determined that he'd broken two ribs. Chris bandaged him up, gave him some pain medicine, made him eat, and sent him to bed for some well deserved rest. At first, Mark protested. He hated the idea of everyone else fixing the ship while their lead engineer was taking a nap. But he was painfully tired and painfully...well... in pain.

Hey! His bunk didn't smell like shit! That's a huge upgrade from his bunk in the Hab- no more thinking about that place.

With a deep groan, Watney eased himself into bed. Weird...his sheets smelled like you. He didn't mind of course, you always smelled nice. He had never been more thankful for the centripetal force spinning the ship. He would have hated having broken ribs in zero g's. He imagined trying to sleep with his body constantly moving ever so slightly. Sounded like hell to him.

Mark wondered what the others were doing. He hoped there wasn't something too terribly wrong with the ship. The subtle groans of metal didn't ease his nerves. He was never scared of the Hermes before, but he was just now coming to terms with that fact that the ship had taken some serious abuse over the past few months, not to mention the past few hours. Normally Hermes would undergo maintenance after each mission, but because they turned around to get him that maintenance was scrapped.

New fear unlocked: Dooming his team to die in space because they had to turn around and get him.

He almost thought the knocking on his door was the hull breaking apart into a billion little bite-sized pieces.

"Come in," he said.

He expected it to be Beck checking in on him, but he was relieved when you poked your head in with a shy smile.

"Heyyyy, look over there! It's the world's handsomest boyfriend!" You said with gusto.

"You are such a kiss ass," Mark laughed, which hurt his ribs, which made him laugh again from how pitiful he must look.

You scoffed as you stepped into his quarters, shutting the door behind you. "You calling me a liar?" you grabbed a loose storage box and used it as a chair so you could sit beside his bed.

"That's exactly what I'm calling you," he smirked. "Seriously. Have you seen me lately? I look like a... a popsicle stick with a bad haircut."

You looked him up and down. His sores looked a lot better after cleaning them. You had no doubt they would heal nicely. The malnourishment on the other hand... That might take some work. You and Beck already had a few dietary plans for him. You discussed it while you reorganized the chow hall. Still, Mark was the most beautiful person you had ever seen. Even now, those alluring blue eyes were mesmerizing you. And let's not forget that goddamned tantalizing smile.

"I'm looking at you right now, babe," You giggled.

"And?"

"You're still as gorgeous as ever. Just a gorgeous man who's been through some shit," you carded your fingers through his hair. Mark hummed and closed his eyes. "How are you feeling?" you whispered.

"Physically or emotionally?"

"Both."

"Emotionally, happy. Very happy. Best day of my life kind of happy," he smiled. "Physically, pretty shitty. The medicine hasn't kicked in."

"Anything I can do to help you feel better?" you asked warmly.

Watney sent you a smug look, "Oh, I can think of a few things that might help~"

"Not until your ribs are healed."

"Damn."

You leaned down and pushed his hair back so you could kiss his forehead. He gave you a dazed grin, "oh, what do you know? I feel better already," he whispered in a gravelly voice. "... I really missed you..."

"I missed you too Mark..."

"I can't believe I can... I can feel you again. I can hear you and see you and feel you... s'insane..." He reached up and cupped your cheek despite the pain. "You were always on my mind. I-I just really wanted... I wanted to make it back to you." He brought his thumb just under your eye to catch a stray tear.

You covered his hand with yours and pressed a kiss to his palm.

"I-I don't even know what to say... I've been feeling so much, I don't know how to... how to-" He swallowed hard.

"Everything's changed so fast," you reassured him. "But we aren't on the messaging system anymore. It's a long journey home, we have plenty of time to find the right words," you continued to run your fingers into his hair.

"I fucking love you... " he closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling of your nails against his scalp. "I'm gonna marry you one day, decided just now."

"Just now?" You snickered.

"No...Realistically, it was the first night we uh... slept together. Do you remember that?" Watney chuckled.

"Of course I do," you smiled, thinking of his messy blonde hair, searing gaze, and strong arms. He took his time with you that night, unhurried, attentive, and unabashedly vocal. "How could I forget?"

Mark shook his head and looked away to hide his blush, but not even his smile could distract you from it. "Sorry, sorry. Go on, continue!"

"Well, I uh..." He let out a sheepish chuckle. "Obviously every part of that night was perfect, but it's what happened after that really changed things."

"Oh?" you leaned closer, curiosity getting the better of you.

"You let me be the little spoon. I'm fine with being the big spoon most of the time, but you gotta be the little spoon sometimes, you know? No one ever let me be the little spoon before you... And when I woke up, you were still holding me." His fingertips danced down your arm, leaving a trail of chills in their wake. Once he reached your hand, Mark intertwined your fingers. It wasn't a conscious movement for him, simply muscle memory. But you couldn't keep your mind off of it. "I know I goof around a lot, but I can't stress how serious I'm being when I say... I have never felt that loved before. It was just... such a perfect night. I knew that you were the one for me well before, but that was the first time I really saw my future flash before my eyes like that."

Your eyes stung a little as you tenderly kissed his lips. "Want to know when I decided?" you whispered against him.

"Please..." He whispered back.

"Remember when I had that terrible flu during the first year of our training program?"

"Oh damn, yeah I do! You looked terrible, baby." Mark teased.

"I felt terrible. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and I definitely couldn't go to lectures... I was so worried about missing, even though the professors agreed there was no way I could come to class. You brought me a copy of your notes. The copy machine in the library was down, so you had to write them by hand... you even filled them with these horrible stick figure drawings," you laughed and Mark brought your knuckles to his lips and watched you, immersed in the sound of your voice. It was like he was trying to commit you to memory. You were doing much the same.

"Anyway, you stayed with me and you made some Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. You stopped by everyday until I got better."

"We were just friends back then," he whispered against your hand.

"I know, but every time I think about how much I love you... that memory comes back, playing on repeat."

"Say that again."

"That again," you smirked. Mark gave you a sassy eyebrow. "Which part babe?" you laughed.

"The uh..." he trailed off.

You lightly kissed his cheek, "I love you, Mark... I love you so much." You peppered his face with little smooches. When you finally pulled back, he was all red again and teary eyed.

"I love you too, Y/N," He whispered. You sat together in silence for awhile before Mark suddenly remembered something extremely important! "Oh shit! I almost forgot!" He winced as he reached into his pocket. "Happy late four year anniversary!" He finally presented you with his gift.

Your fingers trembled as you took the little rock into your hands. Mark's Martian heart stared back up at you, dusting your palm orange.

"Y-you remembered our anniversary?"

"Of course I remembered! Have I ever forgotten before?" Mark smirked.

"N-no, but..." You couldn't help it, you were crying again god dammit. "Thank you Mark, I love it." You beamed and kissed him so hard he lost his entire train of thought. He sighed and pulled you closer like he had wanted to do hours ago. Fuck. There you go again, playing with his hair like it wasn't going to rile him up. He moaned and reached for your waist, only to be pulled swiftly back to reality by the jarring pain in his abdomen. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Mark." You pulled away quickly.

"It wasn't you, I was getting too carried away." He winced and took a deep breath. "My bad," Watney laughed.

You sat down on the crate beside his bed and settled for playing with his hand. While you took inventory of every new callus, Mark once again saw his future flash right before his eyes. You and him and that little house with the green shutters. He's gonna have the best garden in the neighborhood, you'll have all the time in the world for reading. No potatoes. No disco.

"Y/N... Can you hold me?"

"Oh baby, I would love to but the beds are so small-"

"Ouch, oof, oh! ow!" He scooted closer to the wall to make room for you.

You sighed and shook your head. "Mark, your ribs-"

"Please..." he whispered. Dammit! What are you supposed to do when he gives you the puppy eyes!? Beck is going to kill you...

"I can't ever say no to you, can I?" You laughed and scooted into the bed. "Seriously, you've got me wrapped around your finger."

Mark smiled as you tucked yourself into his side. He wanted to be the little spoon, but he couldn't turn over so his back was against your chest. He'd just have to heal quickly, then he could freely snuggle, (and do other things) without any constraints!

He turned his head so he could admire your lovely, beautiful face. You were already looking back at him, one hand holding your rock close to your chest, the other was draped carefully over his waist. Mark swears he's never seen anything more breathtaking in his life.

He slowly leaned closer- Fuck! His ribs hurt so bad, where the hell is the Vicodin when you need it?

You gently smoothed out the crease between his brows with your thumb and pushed his hair back again. Mark closed his eyes, succumbing to the bliss that came with knowing he would never be alone again. You kissed him again and pulled his blanket over the both of you.

"I love you, Mark."

"I love you too."

He felt your hand slip under his shirt and onto his stomach. You drew soft shapes onto his skin, but stopped when you felt the scar just above the hem of his pants. It was jagged and angry.

He swallowed.

Much to his surprise and relief, you didn't pull your hand away. You just kept tracing the new territory.

He sighed and kissed your temple. His body shuddered in relief. "Th-this isn't a dream, right? You'll still be here when I wake up?" he whispered.

You peeked your head up and smiled "I'm not going anywhere, I'm afraid you're stuck with me." You leaned in and gave him one more kiss. He smiled into it and finally allowed himself to rest his eyes.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, Y/L/N..."