#i went on ao3 and looked at some of my old stuff and like

[shoel4ced]

i would make a great boyfriend if not for the horrors

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.2 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: more fluff, more laughs, a little bit of insecurity from Miguel and reader, underage drinking (all of the characters are aged 18-20 so by USA standards, that's underaged. but college kids will be college kids. and so will high school graduates.), a mention of an edible like once, Hobie is here! (fr this time), Pavitr too, even more jealous Miguel, 18+ so MNDI, wet wet relations, fellatio, cunnilingus, Miguel is a munch (his fantasies are unraveling finally), cum play if you squint, partially public indecency???, I think that's it

word count: 9.3k, halfway proofread (I split it really weirdly so I apologize for that lol)

Some of the links used in this part are just to give you an idea of what's going on! Enjoy! 🩵

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GymRat!Miguel who texts Tyler while you’re in the shower. 

Dad…Tyler:

“She really loved it. Thank you so much for helping me out with this, Dad.”

“Any time, son! I’m glad everything went well! I can have my people send over the video form of the animation if you would like.”

“Sure, I can have it on hand.”

“And I take it, you like the yacht?”

“It’s extremely nice! Captain Barrett is pretty cool.”

“Don’t tell him you said that or it’ll go to that funny mustache.”

“Ok 😭”

“I did have a question though.”

“Ask away.”

“What did Kron do to his other boat?”

“What didn’t he do to that boat? He had too many friends on that thing all with a mix of substances I could never dream of combining. Their parents had to come drag them out lest the police get involved. I’ve never helped Kron with any event or party since then. He hasn’t earned it and he embarrassed me greatly.”

“Would you be more comfortable if we held off on the drinks?”

“See son, the difference between you and Kron is that you understand the legal ramifications of doing something so idiotic as having illegal items on a property that isn’t yours as a minor. You also have integrity and respect, something that Kron has lost sight of. I trust that neither you nor your friends will do anything too drastic.”

“Yeah, there’s no crazy stuff happening this weekend.”

“I believe it.”

“Get back to your girlfriend now. Thank you for checking up on your old man. Tell her I said hello.”

“For sure. Good night.”

“Good night!”

GymRat!Miguel who opens his arms up to you as you come out of the bathroom. You hurried to lay in his arms, skin warm from your shower. 

You snuggle up under his chin, “Today was really fun.”

“Yeah?” he rubs your head slowly. 

“Mm hm. Now, we should sleep.”

A yawn racks through Miguel’s body, the day of driving settling in his bones. 

You keep your ear on his chest. The steady tempo of his heart and his breaths lulling you to sleep. 

GymRat!Miguel who is still asleep by the time you wake up. You both ended up at opposite ends of the giant bed with just your legs intertwining. 

You look over to Miguel and watch his chest rise and fall, his snores crescendoing at each breath. 

You lay your head back on the pillow, eyes tracing the shape of his face in this morning light. The water was calm, giving the boat a slight rock. Some seagulls flew by, their sounds fading in and out. 

You scoot closer to get a better look, your hand lightly following the line of his face. 

His eyes flutter open at your touch, a brown sea welcoming you. 

“G’morning,” his voice is terribly deep like this. The timbre shoots straight to your core. 

“Morning. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. 

Miguel moves to lay his head on your chest, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine. The sight made me feel like I went to heaven.”

He pulled you closer by the waist, “Ten more minutes?”

“Rest up all you need, bear-bear.”

GymRat!Miguel who is just as excited as Gabriel when he gets to the deck that morning. The agenda was swimming with the dolphins before everyone else got here.

Miguel and Gabriel were practically buzzing in their matching wetsuits. Dana snuck in a video laughing at the twin looks on their faces. 

GymRat!Miguel who sneaks glances at your form on the way to the dolphin center. You’re leaning over the edge of the smaller boat, the wind against your face. The wetsuit was doing wonders for the curve of your figure. 

GymRat!Miguel who ends up going into a nerd session about dolphins with Gabriel. Both of them are spitting out dolphin facts at the speed of light. 

 “I just think that if you were to be any dolphin, it’s so obvious that you would be an orca.” 

“But why, though? Because I’m big? That’s a new low, even for you, Gabri.”

“No, it’s because you’re mixed, obviously. Killer whale aka orca aka dolphin. Duh, Miguelito.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me because that doesn’t even make sense. Orcas are still classified as dolphins even though they look like whales.”

“Just like you-”

“I’m going to smack you off the side of this boat if you finish that sentence.”

“Resulting to violence just like a killer whale, what a shame.”

“You’re so annoying. Orcas are smart, they speak different languages based on their pod, and the name was actually ‘whale killers,’ not ‘killer whales.’ That would make me an orca, but I would not be one because I would never take care of my family but abandon my children.”

“A lot of male dolphins abandon their families. A lot of them hang out with the bros and come back.”

“Female dolphins can do the hard work of carrying babies from ten to eighteen months, so enlighten me, Gabri. What are the male dolphins doing with the bros?”

Gabriel squinted his eyes and put his finger up weakly, “This is a trick question.”

“No it’s not! Don’t you know the answer?” Miguel put his hands out, as if waiting for a physical object to be presented. 

“I do know the answer, which is why I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Well, now I want to know because you two nerds wouldn’t shut up about bottlenose dolphins just five minutes ago,” Dana scoffs as she takes off her shades, the morning sun too much for her. 

“That’s not the same energy you had last night when I-”

“No one wants to hear that.”

“Shut up, Miguel,” Gabriel snaps back. “They take care of other dolphin babies. And sometimes become friends with benefits with their homies.”

Dana makes a disgusted face, “And you’re defending that? Wow. So when I have your kid you’re going to leave me and go do fuck all with Pavitr?”

“No, Dana, I would never do that! We discussed this! Miguel is going to study seahorses, make me a safe mutation, and I’ll carry them for you!”

“I don’t even study genetics so I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“So you wouldn’t carry her babies?” Gabriel gestures towards you in a panic. 

Miguel looks towards you at the front of the boat, watching the water go by. 

He thought of you as a mom, carrying his kid, holding their hand in the park, picking decor for the nursery. 

He thought of you under him, taking everything he could give you and more. You screaming his name as the bed creaks loud enough to fill the hallway. 

“I would, but that’s not the question right now.”

“Why did it take you so long to answer that?” Gabriel’s tone was high. 

“Oh my god, he was thinking of getting her pregnant,” Dana says in horror. 

“Oh, so I have to listen to your escapades, but I can’t even daydream in silence?”

GymRat!Miguel who listens intently to the staff. No harm shall come to any dolphin on his behalf.  

GymRat!Miguel who makes friends with one of the cute dolphins. Her name is Dotty because of the few spots she has on her body. 

She immediately gravitates towards Miguel. Her blowhole squeals constantly whenever Miguel talks to her. 

“Well I think Dotty is in love!” the instructor yells from across the enclosed water. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at Dana who keeps getting splashed on by the baby dolphins. 

GymRat!Miguel who looks so cute with his nose touching Dotty’s rostrum. They’re spinning in circles with Dotty clicking away like a cat purring. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you interact with one of the bigger dolphins whose name is Mon. 

“Mon and Dotty are a couple, but he’s a little sad today because Dotty isn't giving him any attention,” the instructor says with a giant pout on her face. 

Even Mon’s clicks sounded sad and Miguel didn’t know how that was possible. 

Mon places his chin on your shoulder and you’re immediately in love, rubbing his body and consoling him and his broken heart. 

“It’s ok, Mon. You can hang out with me,” you say in a sweet voice. Mon’s fins squeezed you even tighter. 

A sweater, some random guys, Dana, Blake, and now a dolphin. Miguel can’t win. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches Mon click and spin happily when you feed him fish for doing a trick. 

“That was so good, Monie!” you pat his head, and he leans into your hands. 

GymRat!Miguel who thinks Dotty and Mon are a bit like you and him. They’re twirling in the water together, rubbing their bodies close. 

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the boat ride back, watching the dolphins race with the boat halfway to the yacht.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyebrows raise when he sees one of your friends as you guys step off the boat. 

“Hobie!” you squeal, running to hug the lanky figure. 

“My girl! How have you been, love?” he asks, a deep London accent lining his words. 

Love?

“I’m so happy you made it! How’s the apprenticeship? Any new techniques to share?”

“A lot more than techniques, if you know what I mean?” Hobie leaned on you as he snickered away. 

Miguel might pop a fuse. 

GymRat!Miguel who lingers by as you chat away with Hobie. The two of you are catching up for a while and Miguel wants to walk back to the room with you so you can help him take off this tight wetsuit. 

He’s lightly kicking at a puddle with his arms crossed when you call his name. 

“This is my boyfriend, Miguel,” you say, coming up to him and wrapping an arm around his.

“He’s a big one, innit?” Hobie says, holding his hand out. “Hobie Brown.”

Miguel shook it with a sturdy hand, “Miguel O’Hara. Nice to meet you.”

“How long have you known this firecracker for?” Hobie gestured to you with a smile.

“It’ll be a year once August hits. The best ten months of my life, honestly,” Miguel says, leaning down to kiss your temple. 

“She’s got you wrapped ‘round her finger, yeah?” Hobie smirked at the love drunk look on Miguel’s face. “Yeah, you’re a goner. That’s just how she is. One encounter and it’s hard to let go.”

Hobie went to pick up his one backpack, a master at light travel from how much he’s moving. 

“Don’t let me stop yous two from partying. See ya in an hour, love,” Hobie said walking away. 

You look up at Miguel, “The best ten months?”

“Yep. Love?”

“It’s a British thing. He’s friendly!”

“Hm.”

“And definitely demisexual.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re very territorial.”

“For good reason.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to the boardwalk after he’s changed to greet their friends and guide them to the yacht. 

There’s a lot of you, especially from Gabriel and Dana’s graduating class. Miguel greets everyone warmly. 

It feels good to unite his old friends and newer friends together.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a plan to be the best at every activity on the agenda today. Yeah, he wanted to have fun, but for some reason, he felt like he had something to prove.

He walks back out to the top deck to see Hobie laying out on the flat slats under the shade. His arms are crossed and his shades are hiding his full expression. 

From here, Miguel can hear Blake chatting it up with some of the girls that are hanging out near the on-deck pool. He looks over the edge and sees him grinning from ear to ear as the girls giggle. He clicks his teeth at the scene. 

“Big Migs, c’mere for a sec, will ya?” Hobie said.

“He’s a bit chatty, that one. An overachiever if I’ve ever seen it.”

On second thought, Miguel might like Hobie a lot.

“All morning, he’s been spitting nothing but rubbish. Going on and on about the boat and the city and his socials. Nothing of substance, just straight air.”

Miguel snickered, “It feels like that’s all he’s got going for himself. His daddy’s boat, his daddy’s money, and his face.”

Miguel recounts the events from last afternoon. How he lacked respect for not only him but for you and your personal space. 

“Not gonna lie, I’d smash his head in,” Hobie replied calmly.

Miguel let out a hearty laugh, “I wanted to and honestly, I could, but there are several circumstances stopping me. Such as the fact that we’re on his dad’s property.”

“But deep it, when’s the next time you’ll need to be on this thing?”

Miguel is about to respond in agreement when you round the corner from the stairs. 

“There you two are!”

You smile at the two of them, “Are you guys getting along? Has Hobie convinced you to join him on some scheme across the country?”

Miguel took a deep breath before responding. He knew what outfits you brought with you, a lot of them matched his own, but it was still like new whenever you put them on. 

He didn’t have enough time in the world to cherish your beauty. 

“They’re not schemes, baby, they’re elaborate plans,” Miguel responds.

“Man like, Migs!” Hobie hops up and drags his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. 

You shake your head with a warm smile on your face, laughing at Hobie’s antics.

“And you look stunning. Though, I’m not too sure if it’s fit for hoverboarding.”

“That’s because I’m jet skiing and shaking ass, Hobie. You guys can have fun flipping in the air.”

“Right on, then. Migs and I have important business to attend to.”

Miguel nods, “Extremely important.”

You eyed them both, “Uh huh.” They left in a controlled frenzy, Hobie pulling his wicks up with a giant band and Miguel cracking his neck.

You didn’t even want to know. 

GymRat!Miguel who is a bit peeved that Blake has to give the water hoverboard demonstration. He’s staying up there longer than necessary, grabbing girls to balance them in the middle of his board while he flips them around.

You’re standing next to Miguel during it all, waiting for Miguel’s turn so you can get a video.

“Hey!” Blake yells out in your direction. “Wanna take it for a spin?”

You shake your head and yell back, “No, I’m good!”

“Just three minutes! Don’t be scared! I won’t drop you.”

“No thanks,” you bite back, voice irritated. 

Blake smiles with a hand on his hip, ready to convince you, when Hobie pipes up, “The lady said no. Can we move on?”

Blake’s face cracked a bit as he told one of the crew members to kill the power in the waterboard. 

“What is up with him?” you mumble to yourself. 

“I think he likes you,” Pavitr remarked. “He wouldn’t stop asking Gabriel questions about you.”

“He’s really pushing it,” Miguel scoffed. Not only was he being overly flirty to every girl on board, he was adamant about getting your attention. “No wonder he gets along with Kron.”

You sported a twisted lip as you watched him strap up one of Gabriel’s friends. “I don’t know. Even if I was single, he’s a bit too…tiny. Communal.”

The laugh that left Miguel wiped the scowl right off of his face.

GymRat!Miguel who gets the hang of the hoverboard after one try. You’re recording him with a big smile on your face as he tries to spell “love” in the air. 

GymRat!Miguel who dies laughing at Gabriel’s horrible attempts at staying in the air. His body keeps shaking like a baby deer and he’s steady yelling in garbled Spanish. 

By the time his turn is over, Miguel is laid out on the boardwalk with tears down his face.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Miguel,” Gabriel cries out.

Miguel just rolls and laughs some more. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you expertly drive a jet ski from the edge of the yacht. You’re shouting with one arm in the air as you race Dana and some of her friends. 

Miguel leans his head on his hand as he watches you zoom across the ocean. Your skin is glowing, your smile is sparkling, and your laugh is bright. 

GymRat!Miguel whose bubble of thoughts involving you, him, the water, some fruit, and a floatie is popped when Blake’s voice pierces through. 

“She’s pretty good at that.”

“Yep.” Maybe if Miguel ignored him enough, he’d go away.

“Looks like a dream, too.”

“Are you dumb or something?” Miguel turns his body, gripping the rail to not get in Blake’s face, but extending his height to cower over him.

“Woah,” Blake holds his hands up. “It was a compliment, dude, chill out. You’re not mad at me for finding her beautiful, are you?”

“That’s not what the fuck you’re doing and you know it.”

Blake makes a confused face, laughing off Miguel’s statement, “Kron said you guys were open.”

“Does it look like we’re fucking open?”

“Well, at first-”

“Keep talking and you’ll end up just like him. Knocked out. Do you want that?” Miguel edged closer to him. “Huh?”

Blake bristles, ready to defend himself when his head is knocked to the side. 

He looks next to him to see a gaggle of girls all with waterballoons and nerf guns. They yell at him to come on and pick a side. 

Blake scrambles to join them.

Miguel is about to follow when Hobie sweeps in front of him, “Cool it.”

GymRat!Miguel who almost takes an edible from Hobie but decides against it. 

“The offer is open all weekend.”

“Noted.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets roped into playing some games to start off the night, one of which is Never Have I Ever with shots. 

It started off innocently with things like peeing in a pool and cheating on a test to which everyone looked in shock at Miguel when he put a finger down. 

“I’m smart but if there’s a group effort to get the right answers, I’m not going to say no.”

Then it went left field and personal with things like threesomes, drunkenly fighting with others, and streaking. 

“Never have I ever…received head from a partner!”

A few of the guys put a finger down, groaning out and snickering as they had to take another shot. 

Miguel was trying not to dwell on how many experiences he lacked compared to the group, a lot of them younger than him. 

He rubbed his tongue across his teeth. He didn’t want to show his irritation on his face. 

Looking across the circle, he could see Gabriel’s eyes get wide, staring off beside you. 

Miguel followed his line of sight landing on you with a finger down and a shot in your hand. 

What the fuck. 

Who the fuck beat him to it? Where the fuck did it happen? When the fuck did it happen? How the fuck did he not know?

He’s ready for the game to be over. 

“Miguel is putting in work!” one guy pushes his elbow against Miguel’s side, laughing and patting his shoulders. 

Well, if people think he did it, it’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, girl, how was it?” Dana’s friend asked you. 

Miguel tried his best not to scream bloody murder. 

“It was,” you pause, looking up to ponder. “It was something! Not particularly fun or good. My ex wasn’t the best at listening so he just poked at me. I faked everything that night.”

Miguel smirked. There were no big shoes to fill because they were never taken out of the box. Or even out of the store. 

“That sucks. I bet he thought you were in heaven.”

You laugh with the girls, joking in a way similar to the women that flooded Miguel’s for-you page. 

Miguel stepped away to get a breather. If he stayed any longer, he might do something drastic. 

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on the boat when Gabriel comes to check up on him. 

“You ok, Miguelito?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. A little overwhelmed so I need to reset,” Miguel wrung his wrists while he let the sea breeze cool him down. 

“Is it the game? Don’t feel so bad,” Gabriel leans closer to Miguel and speaks in a stage whisper. “Some of them are a little too fast for their own good.”

Miguel snickered. Gabriel was definitely tipsy. 

“Thanks, Gabri.”

“Anytime. Don’t let them bring you down. You’re my perfect Miguelito. My pure baby!” Gabriel kissed him on the cheek.

“Ugh,” Miguel laughed and wiped at his wet cheek.

“Don’t wipe away at my love, broski.”

GymRat!Miguel who is guided by you in a dance. You’re a little tipsy and giggly, holding onto him as you dance to the music. 

Miguel just holds onto your hips and smiles with you. 

GymRat!Miguel who is locked in on your body as you grind against him. You’re arching your back and looking at him with a sparkle in your eye and Miguel feels like a wild animal.

When you lean back against him, he whispers in your ear about a private party just for the two of you. You bite your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes are tracing your lips and his hands are groping you. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at you as you wish everyone a good night quickly.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning!” you shout to your friends as you pull Miguel behind you to the room.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you on the bed while you use the bathroom. 

He’s excited for an intimate night with just you. Parties were fun but it really couldn’t beat the serenity of smaller groups. It especially couldn’t beat talking all night with you. 

Everyone else was chilling out in other parts of the yacht, back in their hotel rooms, or night paddle boarding. 

You’re in the bathroom staring at the thin fabric in your hand. 

Miguel told you that there was a pool involved. 

You bought a micro bikini during a surge of confidence. It looked so cute on the model and you wanted to feel the same way. 

Now you’re standing in the bathroom freaking out, worried to death over the flimsy material. You were excited about Miguel seeing it, but you couldn’t shake your own nerves about how everything would play out. 

A knock at the door makes you jump.

You crack the door and peer up at Miguel. 

“You ok in there?” he asked, eyebrows pinched. 

“Yeah, I’m ok! I’ll be out in just a sec!”

You bite the bullet and place the bikini on. 

You didn’t account for your areolas to poke out beyond the triangles. You bit your lip as you turned to check out your backside.

At least your ass looked great. 

In a nervous motion, you pull your coverup over you and pull your hair up so that it doesn’t get too ruined by the water. It was now or never. 

GymRat!Miguel who holds your hand as he guides you to the private area. You’re squeezing his hand so tight. 

One of the stewardesses smiles as she sees you two coming. She stands next to a rope cutting off the area. 

“Good evening to you both! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay so far,” her voice is polite and even. “Tonight, it’ll be just you two enjoying the Galaxy. If you need anything, just press the call button on the wall and I’ll be right down.”

She unlatches the rope and holds her arm out in the direction of the stairs.

You both slowly descend, careful not to slip on the trippy-looking wood. 

Taking a step into the room, Miguel stares in awe at the glowing pool. 

There’s petals fluttering about, small fairy lights surround the corners to add extra light. Looking up, you both can see the night sky with the stars adorning it. 

“This is beautiful,” you say, the lights surrounding you glittering in your eyes. 

You were staring at the stars and the lights but Miguel couldn’t help but to think that you were the most beautiful part of the room. 

He said this much to you, watching as you bent your head down hiding the smile on your face. Miguel lifted it back up and kissed you under the light of the stars. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah, let me just go take this off.” 

You walk towards a chair with folded towels placed on it. 

“Miguel, these have our names on them!” you say with shock, running your fingers over the embroidered letters. Hearts surrounded the names and you felt fuzzy from the implication of the stewardess preparing this. 

“Yeah, I heard it was a part of the couple’s bundle,” he shouts from the pool. It wasn’t really a part of the bundle, but Miguel suggested it way before the trip. 

His back was turned to you, trying to set up a speaker by the pool. 

The moment was perfect, so you opened a champagne bottle and poured two glasses. You took a huge gulp of one and removed your slip. 

GymRat!Miguel who hears you entering the water, so he hurries to pick out a song. 

The mood needs to be right. 

He turns to you and nearly drowns at the sight. (Art is not affiliated with this fic, but I couldn't find any plus-size women in real life on Pinterest with this type of bikini! Please give this artist some love, I love their art!)

You’re coming down the stairs with two glasses in your hand and your skin on full display. The strings are digging tight into your skin and your breasts are practically spilling out from every side. 

Miguel is stunned.

“Come grab your drink, Miguel,” your voice is like butter in his ears. 

His eyes don’t leave you as he swims across the pool. The only sounds that could be heard are the water moving around him and the music playing. When he gets closer, he stands up, water dripping down his body. He’s breathing hard and is laser-focused on your frame. 

You feel an array of emotions. You feel like running, jumping, maybe hiding. His gaze is too heavy and he hasn’t spoken a word yet. 

You don’t know how long you two stare at each other before Miguel breaks the tension, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He takes the glasses from your hand with one hand and picks you up in the other. You cling to him as he goes to the edge of the pool, places one glass down and chugs the other. 

In a flash, you’re sitting on the edge and he’s holding his body out of the water in order to kiss you. 

He pushes your mouth open, pulling at your lip with his teeth. He was desperate, wanting more. 

Your hands find your way to his hair, the tips wet from his swim. You card your fingers through his locks, opening your mouth wider as Miguel groans onto your tongue. 

He can’t stop, body moving forward the deeper the kisses get. Your legs open wider and your hands fall down Miguel’s back. You go lower than usual, pushing your hands under his swimsuit, fingertips grazing over the skin of his ass. 

Miguel parts, spit-ridden mouth red and messy. 

“You’re making this so hard for me,” he says against your lips. You’re both panting into each other’s mouths. 

Your body feels like jelly. The way that he’s looking at you fills you with desire, “Making what hard?” You’re quivering and clenching as his eyes seem to get darker. 

“Baby,” Miguel kisses the corner of your lips then your jaw. He moves to where your jaw and neck connect, licking  “Amor. I can’t.”

You move your head, encouraging him to continue, “You can if you want to.”

“No, I’m supposed to take this slow,” his mouth moved to your collarbone, sucking at the skin as you squeezed your thighs around him. “I need to take this slow.”

He gets to your breasts, pressing your nipples through the material and watching as your areolas poked out more. “Mierda.”

You try to talk as Miguel takes one breast into his mouth, “It’s ok to want more. I want, ugh, I want you to take more.” He pulls at your nipple, watching as it rises more through the fabric. His thumb traces it, causing you to twitch in his hold. 

He continues to rub over the fabric as he kisses down your stomach. The string is wrapping around your stomach like a gift just for him. 

“Tomorrow, baby,” he says into your skin. “I’ll take more tomorrow.”

He needed to stop before he broke the promise he made to himself. 

He hears you whine as he gets eerily close to your sex before jerking his body straight. 

“Why?” you sound so needy and broken. 

“Because,” he kisses your pout away. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take all I need. You just need to trust me. Please.”

You nod your head, heart pounding with his words. 

GymRat!Miguel who lets you persuade him into swapping places. All it took was a few blinks of your eyes and Miguel was swooning.

“I saw you walk away during the game today. I wanted to make sure that the next time you play, you’re able to put a finger down.”

That’s what you told him with a sweet smile on your face.

Now you’re rubbing up his thighs and Miguel is about to pass out from the view of you peering up at him. Your eyes were foggy and the slope of your neck to your chest was glistening. From this angle, Miguel could see the curve of your ass with the bikini barely covering it.

You run your hands down his chest, fingers dancing along the slopes and planes, leaving a wet trail in your wake. Miguel’s stomach tightens as you make it below his belly button, the sensation of your fingertips across his happy trail building a fury in his core.

You kiss him through his swimsuit causing him to jump.

You hold his thighs and tilt your head to lean on one, “Are you nervous, Miggy?” Your knuckles rake against his groin, lingering in spots that made his inner thighs clench the most.

“I,” Miguel is trembling like a leaf. He can barely get the words out from how much energy he's using to hold himself up. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You lift your body from the water a little, pressing your tits closer to his clothed sex. “Baby, I need you to know. I can’t go further without your permission.”

Miguel feels like he could cum right now.

“I’m really nervous, but I want to experience this.”

You hum as you start to pull at his waistband. His eyes scrunch closed as his dick springs up. 

You’re met with a sight you had missed. The size is still as intimidating as the last time. 

You rub his thighs and give yourself a quiet pep talk. You were determined to make your boyfriend feel good. 

Miguel looks back down at you and swallows dryly, anxious at the look in your eyes and your silence, “If it’s too much, w-we can stop here-”

“No.”

The first lick of his tip has Miguel rising off of the pool edge, pre-cum escaping him.

He whines, embarrassed at his lack of control, but his dick is twitching from the sensation.

“Miguel,” your hands are back on his hips at a flimsy attempt to hold him down. “You need to be careful, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby right now.” Miguel’s voice is winded like he’s been running a marathon.

You look up at him. His mouth is twisted up and his eyebrows are furrowed. His stomach keeps shaking and his elbows don’t know if they want to bend or extend. When he looks down at you, he lets out a whimper, dick jerking against his will.

You hold your lips right above the head, the heat of it making you excited, “Baby.”

Miguel jerks again as you take his tip into your mouth, more of his pre-cum slipping out. His body is wound tight and he’s losing sense of it. Your mouth is so warm and he’s crying out from just you suckling along the head. He would be grateful with just this alone.

You push yourself lower, mouth adjusting to the widening girth. You don’t know if it’s the champagne combined with the other drinks you’ve had today, but the taste is making your mind fuzzy. 

You hum as you move your tongue along the underside of his length, his essence melting into your mouth. Miguel continues to twitch against your lips. 

You look up and he just groans when his eyes connect with yours. 

“P-pretty,” he stutters out, brain-to-mouth filter completely disintegrating. One of his arms covers his mouth as he fights to quiet down. There’s no telling what the stewardess could hear from above. 

You decided to go deeper, wanting to hear him some more. You make it halfway down before you grip his shaft and give it a few semi-dry pumps. 

Miguel just about shouts at the sensation, legs jerking enough to splash the water around you. 

Satisfied with the reaction, you release him with a pop and slide your tongue down to the base, trying to get him as wet as possible for what you’re about to attempt to do. You pucker your lips to leave wet kisses all over his shaft, sucking occasionally. 

All Miguel can do is whimper and shake. 

You hold him, sliding your hand up and down, applying pressure whenever you glide over the top, “You can hold on to me.”

Miguel shakes his head and releases his bottom lip from his teeth to speak, but his words are jumbled up in a heated mess. 

“Say it again, Miguel. I don’t understand,” you bring your mouth to the head again, this time, cupping his balls as you slide back down. 

Early spurts of cum land in your mouth as Miguel uselessly grips at the flat ground. He’s moaning out your name and if you weren’t sliding him down your throat, you would think he’s crying for you. 

“I-I don’t wanna hurt you,” Miguel takes heavy breaths in the middle of his sentence. 

Even like this he was oh so sweet. You don’t push it and continue on. 

As you reach the hilt, you force yourself to relax, thumb pressed against your fisted palm. He was heavy on your tongue and you needed to find the right pace. 

You slowly move your head up and down, lips wet with spit and slick. You build a steady tempo that has Miguel involuntarily moving his hips and moaning in a senseless manner. 

He was conflicted, core heated at the sound of your throat barely taking him, but wanting to pull you off so you don’t choke all because of him. Hot tears ran down his face as you didn’t let up. 

He chooses the latter, foggy mind coming to a decision. His shaky hands reach towards your face, your cheeks hallowed and eyes closed. His hands make it to your cheeks when you reach the hilt again and swallow around his head. 

Miguel scares himself with the moan he lets out. 

You panic as you swallow his load, mouth completely full. 

Miguel hurries to pull you off, “Shit! Baby, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok,” you cough as you try to catch your breath. Drips of him that you didn’t swallow falling to your chest. “I wish you would have told me you were about cum, though.”

“I didn’t know!” he’s red in the face. “God, I’m so sorry!”

“Was it good, though?” You look up at him with lips and sparkling eyes. You’re holding your tits up so that his cum wouldn’t get in the pool. 

Miguel’s dick twitches like it’s trying to wake back up again. You notice it and a grin plants itself right onto your face. 

“Do you really have to ask me that?”

“Yes, Miggy.”

“I think my embarrassing finish was enough but yes, you made me feel good. It was way more than good. Now come out of the pool before you get any more ideas.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing!” you reply as Miguel picks you up from the water and on his stomach while lays back. “‘Was kinda hot. You felt so good that you couldn’t wait.”

You slide your finger over your cleavage to pick up the leftover essence and plop right in your mouth. 

Miguel grips your thighs as he looks up at you, “No, stop that, you vixen.”

You’re going to be the death of him for sure. 

GymRat!Miguel whose legs are like jelly when you help him up from the ground. His thighs haven’t shaken this much since his first leg day almost five years ago. 

“Do you need to lie down on the beach chair for a minute?” you ask with genuine concern. 

“Yeah, I think I need a second,” Miguel says, trying his best not to put his entire weight onto you. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you watch him from the pool. You’re at the edge, leaning over and smiling at him while you let your body float. 

“Next time, I want to get, like, really hoarse. We should work on your resistance and my tolerance. Oh! And maybe we can do that thing where I hold your-”

“Amor, please. Let’s talk about this when I’m not halfway dying,” Miguel groans, dick half hard. “How are you so good at this anyway?”

“Practice! With my ex and like one other fling. They weren’t nearly as responsive as you, though.”

Miguel squints at your figure. 

“Or fun. Or satisfying. Or tasty. Or big. Can I do it one more time, Miggy?”

Miguel stares at you for a minute or two then groans, “Come on.”

You leave the water and walk over to him with glee. 

GymRat!Miguel who grabs lightly onto your head this time, fingers twitching occasionally. His legs are parted and you’re laid out on the horizontal part of the beach chair. Miguel is constantly looking from your face to your ass, experiencing a sensation overload. You take it easy on him this time, saving some of your tricks and things you wanted to try for a later date. 

The room is filled once again with Miguel’s grunts and whimpers plus your mouth and throat molding unto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who warns you this time. You let go with a pop and let him paint your open mouth. He shudders as you look at him through it all, pumping him slowly until he can't take anymore. A lonely tear escaped him, eyes heavy and chest heaving. 

GymRat!Miguel who barely makes it back up the stairs. He gives the stewardess a polite smile but you can barely look at her for longer than a second. 

“It was really lovely,” you say leaning into Miguel’s side, voice a little gone. 

“Yeah, amazing,” Miguel snickers. You nudge him at the back of his leg causing him to stagger a bit. 

The stewardess just laughs and wishes you both a good night. 

GymRat!Miguel who sleeps like a log that night. His soul needed to rejuvenate. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up a new man. He feels like he can conquer the world. As of now, the world is a new set of water activities with their friends. 

He kisses you on the cheek in your sleeping state makes his way out to the deck, wanting to do some morning stretches and yoga if he could fit it in. 

He walked out to see Dana talking to Blake, an indifferent look on her face.

“I just can’t believe he would lie to me like that, you know? Like that’s fucked up. Here I was, ready to get something and he set me up.” 

“Yeah, no. That really sucks,” Dana replies with a big yawn.

“I mean, I thought we were bros. I thought-”

“Miguel! My knight in shining armor,” Dana practically screams when she spots Miguel.

Blake tenses up so that if he mimics a timid raccoon. 

“Morning,” Miguel walks up to them.

Blake breaks out into a sweat, “Hey man, I’m sorry about last night. I would have never done that stuff if I knew. I don’t know why Kron told me you guys were open.”

“I think you need some new friends and better social cues,” Miguel brushed Blake off and walked with Dana onto the boardwalk. 

“Thank god you got here. That was his fourth iteration of ‘bro code should be respected.’ I was going to start screaming if he kept talking.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Dana guide him in a mini yoga class on the beach. It’s pretty nice with the waves crashing and the birds squawking occasionally.

GymRat!Miguel whose downward dog pose is almost disrupted by you whistling from a spot in the sand. 

You and Gabriel had snuck up on Miguel and Dana, cackling like hyenas.

“Baby, I think you can go deeper,” you shout over the waves, encouraging Miguel to stretch.

“Gross,” Gabriel shudders. 

GymRat!Miguel who wants to use you for a flying pose but you refuse. 

“I’m not walking back with sand up my back.”

“Can we try it later, though?” Miguel pouted. 

“On safe carpet, yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who settles for a forward fold with you. You stretch your body across his back as he reaches down to touch his toes. 

It’s nice until you both switch positions. 

“I think I’m dying,” you gasp out. You sound like an old man on his last breath. 

“No, you’re not. You just need more practice,” Miguel chides from above. 

“When will I ever need this pose in life?”

“Flexibility is good for you!” Miguel replies after a while. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

GymRat!Miguel who tilts his head at your breakfast plate piled with pineapples. 

“You don’t want an omelet?”

“Maybe later.”

GymRat!Miguel who joined any group activity he could. 

From the inflatable water obstacle course,  

which Gabriel cheated on by the way,

To the boat tour, he got so many pictures for you for his rotating home screen,

To the banana boat rides that he almost lost his life on. It took you, Gabriel, and Dana to hold onto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who surprises you with a “rooftop” dinner on the horizon on the highest part of the yacht. You’re wearing that same green dress that made him go crazy in the dressing room. 

“This is so gorgeous, Miguel,” you sigh as you take in the small scene. 

From up here, you could see the breathtaking view of the ocean and the city. The sun was close to setting, people were out and about, and the group was partaking in last-minute activities like parasailing and water walking with bubble balls but you could only focus on the glow around Miguel. 

“Did you enjoy this weekend?”

You nod your head, shy with attention, “I really did. I had so much fun.”

“Even with boys that don’t understand the word ‘no’?”

“When I have my strong boyfriend there to defend me, what is there to be afraid of?” you smile at him. 

Miguel sits up straighter at that, chest puffing out.

You laugh at his state, “Seriously, though. This was one of the best summers ever. I’m really glad Mr. Stone arranged this and I’m even more glad that you brought me along.”

“Of course I did. You’re my girl. Mi amor, mi luz,” Miguel reached out to run your hand. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Like a flower unfurled, your heart took in his words. You leaned across the table until you could brush your lips with his, only the sun peeking through the two of you. 

You let go and lean back a little. “I’m not letting go of you either. I want you by my side,” you say, eyes panning back and forth between his.

“And that’s where I’ll stay.”

GymRat!Miguel who covers your eyes on the way back to the room.

You’re whining because you don’t have nearly as much planned for him as he always does for you. 

“Amor, you could just text me an emoji and I would be happy. You deserve good things. Don’t worry about me.”

GymRat!Miguel who wraps his arm around you as you open your eyes to the room. 

It’s lit with soft lights, decorated lightly with rose petals in the shape of a heart on the ground, and a banner full of pictures with the two of you. Pictures from outside of lab, pictures of you with oil paint on your face, pictures of him piled with notes in the study lab. 

Pictures of you both on your early dates, pictures of you looking at him in the car, pictures where he’s kissing your face off. 

You gasp at the scene, feet stuck in the entryway.

“Surprise,” Miguel says into your ear, kissing the top of it.

“I don’t think I have any tears left,” your voice is watery enough to dispute that lie.

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you deeply in the middle of the rose heart. You’re cradling his face with one hand and rubbing your thumb across his sideburn with another.

You’re so wrapped up in his arms and his presence that you miss his question.

“Can you do what?”

Miguel’s hands find their way to your ass, pulling you even closer, “Can I please eat you out?”

When you stare at him with your eyebrows raised, it only pushes him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’ve dreamed about it, researched how to do it, studied it, daydreamed about it. I need to do it before I go crazy.”

He bent down to get on his knees, hands never letting go of your body.

“Please, baby. If you’ll allow me, I really want to make you feel good.”

At first, all you could think was that Dana was right and definitely a girl’s girl. Then, you looked down at Miguel whose head was pressed up against your torso, eyes pleading with you. 

You ran your hand through his hair, “You need to do it?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, nuzzling into your body through your dress. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fake my reactions for you.” You didn’t have the heart to lie to him like that, especially when he’s looking at you like that. 

“You won’t have to,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “I’m confident, but if something is weird, stop me immediately.”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t give you time to think when you whisper out an “ok.” He’s picking you up by the legs and plopping you on the bed.

Like a switch, he’s kissing down your body, pulling at the stretchy green fabric to expose your skin. He’s crowding your space in the most desired way possible, a fire building within him.

“Miguel, the dress isn’t going to come off like that,” you say, internally laughing at Miguel tugging to no avail. 

He starts to pull so hard that you can hear threads ripping. Before you can stop him, there’s a makeshift slit up your thigh. 

You lean up on your elbows and give Miguel a look. He just stares sheepishly and lets you stand up to pull the dress off. 

“You gotta be more patient baby,” you purred, bending down to kiss his lips. 

When you lean back, you move backwards to sit on the bed. It’s just you, your black panties, and a hungry Miguel at your feet.

The further you inch up the bed, the more Miguel crawls to be closer to you. 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes into your mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please.”

Miguel melts into your skin, mouth molding to a familiar shape. His breaths are heavy and sporadic, too excited to finally know what you feel like on his tongue.

You reach to pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his chest against yours, wanting to feel the expanse of his back while he pressed up against you. Miguel follows your movements without letting up.

He sighed into your lips with pleasure as he let his hand flow down your body, grabbing a breast to massage. You hummed into his mouth, legs parting to bring him closer. Eager to please, Miguel slipped his shorts below his bulged, grinding against you.

You start to wrap your legs around his waist before Miguel interrupts you with a sturdy hand under your knee, and a promise to devour you to your neck.

GymRat!Miguel who groans when he slides your panties down your legs. The slope of your thick thighs to your ass has Miguel ready to burst. 

He gets on his knees to maneuver your legs up into your arms. You peek up at him over your knees, your wet cunt kissing the air. 

He licks his lips at the sight, taking a tentative touch at your wet lips. 

You jump at the sensation, the feeling of Miguel seeing you this vulnerable new. 

He bends down to kiss them, hands on the back of your thighs for extra support. Your core flutters as he takes a few more kisses to your sex, tongue reaching out to trace from the bottom to the top. At the first taste, Miguel is groaning into you, sending vibrations through your body. 

You sigh out in bliss as your grip loosens on your legs. Miguel flattens his body on the bed and spreads your legs wide, tongue continuing to savor the taste of you. 

At this angle, Miguel pushes his tongue in between your folds, feeling your warmth around him. He laps at your entrance slowly causing you to flutter around him and reach for his hair.

He slurps up the juices that try to escape him causing you to moan out his name. He just hums in response, breaching further inside. The more noises he makes, the wetter you get. The room is full of the sound of him lapping everything he gave you and your quiet moans.

“Miguel,” your breath hitched as he swiped over a particular spot. You look down at Miguel whose eyes are closed and hands are tight on your thighs. You feel a building heat seeing how much of a trance he’s in. 

Just when you feel a bud sprouting within you, he directs his attention towards your clit, searching until he finds it. At the first skim across it, your hips are bucking up off the bed. Miguel is quick to hold you down, placing his weight on your thighs and lapping continuously at the pearl. 

“Fuck!” you shout, hitting the mattress. You’re writhing beneath him, unable to control your body. “Don’t stop, Miguel, please.”

Miguel groans through it all, lapping up every drop. 

“Baby, I’m gonna-” a scream pushes through you as your body shakes with pleasure. Miguel takes it like a champ, slurping like you were his last meal.

As you twitch with aftershocks, Miguel barely gives you time to recover before he’s diving back into your entrance. You let out a sob, still sensitive and quivering as your legs move too close before Miguel growls and wraps his arms around your thighs to keep them open. 

He’s sinking into you, moving his tongue at a steady pace and sucking in between. Your moans were a pool of words from his name to begging to profanities crescendoing across the air.

Miguel would rarely part for air, adamant on bringing you to the hilt again. Your thighs were tensing up as Miguel kept going, fire building as you grabbed his hair and jerked your hips in time with his movements. 

Your climax comes in waves, your hands tighter in his hair and an arch in your back. When you clench over his tongue and your release hits his mouth, Miguel’s eyes start to roll and he’s rubbing his nose against your clit. You yell even louder as Miguel pushes his face incredibly deep into your pussy. He’s rutting into the bed at the sound of your voice, moaning with you. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The captain swore that the VIP suite was soundproof, but your voice was practically carrying across the yacht. 

“She’s getting it good! Just like I promised,” Dana smiles to herself. 

“What did you promise? I was the one that gave Miguel tips.” Gabriel moved his headphones aside. 

“Oh yeah? And what tips did you give him?” She had her eyebrow raised and a silly smirk on her face. 

There was a pause of silence between them, only your voice filling up the space occasionally. Gabriel stared at Dana with a goofy grin.

He reached over and connected his phone to his speaker, putting on his special playlist. “Want to find out?”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

GymRat!Miguel who has to be pulled off your sex with both of your hands. His eyes are glazed over and his chin is soaked. Every chance you came after the first two times, your body would move up the bed and Miguel was sure to follow. 

“Ok, ok, baby,” you heave. Your legs are spasming, a result of the position and Miguel’s willingness to have you cum over and over again.

You were tapping out, body sore and tired. 

Miguel left a final long kiss to your clit, a trail of essence following his lips. He kissed up one of your thighs with a hungry look still in his eyes.

“¿Lo hice bien, cariño?” (Did I do it well, baby/darling?)

You trembled at his touch, limbs still heavy and mind in the clouds. 

Still, this was the best you’ve felt in a while.

You open your mouth to whisper, “Lo hiciste muy bien.” (You did so good.)

GymRat!Miguel who has to calm down internally at your answer. You don’t talk to him in Spanish often, but when you do, he’s over the moon. 

GymRat!Miguel who carries you to the bathroom to clean you off.

“Baby, I can’t walk. You’ll have to carry me for the rest of your life.”

“I’m totally fine with that.”

GymRat!Miguel who shocks you when he says that you don’t need to worry about bringing him relief. 

“Amor, I came when you came. After that, it was really all about you.”

“Oh!”

GymRat!Miguel who pats his past self on the back for asking the crew for extra sheets. He had no clue how the evening would go, but something in him told him to be overprepared. 

Those old sheets were beyond ruined. 

GymRat!Miguel who rubs your legs and stomach with aloe vera lotion after the shower. Not only did he stretch you a little further than you’re used to, but his bite marks left a big impression. 

GymRat!Miguel who cuddles you to sleep. If you wore him out the other night, he definitely put you through the ringer. You were gone after three rubs to your back. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up early with you to send off all of your friends. You’re yawning constantly, tears sticking to the corners of your eyes.

“Someone had a time last night,” Hobie snickers as he walks past with his backpack. 

“Shut up, Hobie,” you say, already flustered. 

“What? It’s true! If I didn’t know Migs' name before, I sure do now.”

“I’m going to backflip off of this boat.”

GymRat!Miguel who grants Captain Barrett a goodbye, thanking him for letting them use his boat.

“It was a pleasure to host you, Miguel. If you and your girlfriend ever need to, my superyacht is available for any future formal events!” he elbows Miguel with a giant grin, curled mustache moving like it was paid to do so. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Cap.”

For Miguel, the man with the plan, he would grant Mission A: Eat You Out, a huge success and the start of the summer one to remember.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.1 here!

a/n: And with that, the yacht chapter is finished! I hope you guys enjoyed it and got your life. 🤭 It was both challenging and rewarding to write this GIANT chapter. I hope that you guys have fun with it like I did! I have no idea how the next chapter OR Miguel's Mission B: Virgin No More plan will go, but!!! Hopefully, it will be pleasant regardless! 🤠

ALSO! I have decided to give this drabble that's basically a fic a proper name (mostly for AO3). Do you all have any suggestions?

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[gojomamashouse]

Taking Care of You

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x babysitter!reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (M receiving), breeding kink, praise kink, Fem!reader. Very minor mentions of injury & blood.

Description: He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home.

A/N: crossposted on my Ao3 and Tumblr.

3.7k words

18+ content! Minors and ageless blogs dni!

You remember the first time you came over to babysit for Mike all too clearly. You remember the way your eyes went wide when the door opened, and how your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. More importantly, you remember thinking that Mike Schmidt was far too hot for his own good, a clear image in your mind of how he had greeted you with tired eyes, messy hair, and a hand gripping the doorframe.

"Mr. Schmidt," you had blurted, ignorant to how his nose scrunched at the words leaving your mouth, "It's nice to—"

"Don't tell me I look that old?" His tired expression tried a smile, and you found yourself standing there, unable to formulate a proper response as you were already convinced you messed up the job before you even started. "Just Mike is fine.”

Back then, the only thing you knew about him was that he was hot, overworked, and clearly exhausted. So you did your best to make his life easier, even if those things were small, like cleaning all the dishes before he came home, tidying up all the clutter left behind on the table and kitchen counter. It wasn’t much, but you figured he could use whatever help he could get. He came home the first night, too tired to even notice before collapsing on the couch. Suppressing a giggle, you threw a blanket over his sleeping form, lingering a moment longer than you should have just to observe his face. Even in his sleep, you weren’t sure you could find even an ounce of peace in his expression.

—

Mike remembers the first week of your babysitting, when he returned home at some ungodly hour that Friday. While most babysitters in the past opted to lay on the couch, sleeping or watching TV, he had discovered that you preferred to be a bit more proactive. That night, in particular, he recalled your humming in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes before placing them in the dishwasher.

A strange feeling filled his chest at the sight, the smell of dinner still lingering and the radio playing some old song from his childhood. It was a feeling he shouldn't have been feeling towards the babysitter looking after his little sister. You had jumped when the floorboard creaked beneath himself shifting weight, still shy and jittery around him at the time.

“I didn’t see you come in,” your voice is still shaken from the scare. You turned to the oven, “Oh! I kept the food warm, in case you wanted some. Are you hungry?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, blinking a bit to shake the thoughts from his head, “Ah, you don’t have to do all this, you know. The cooking and cleaning stuff.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not like I have anything else to do,” you returned your gaze to the dishes in the sink, “Besides, you work hard. It’s the least I can do. Just let me take care of it.”

Just let me take care of it.

A phrase he hadn’t yet forgotten, either. When was the last time anyone had taken care of anything for him? He’d taken on the role of being Abby’s caretaker the moment his parents were out of the picture. He had made countless sacrifices, dropping out of school to work full-time, losing his social life. His old friends preferring to go out partying rather than hang out with the guy who has a kid sister and a full-time job. Every day was work, only to mess up at work. Then go home, stress over a dirty home. Drive Abby to school, stress over her education and development.

He didn’t have it within himself to deny you, not when you were so kind and helpful. Even if the guilt ate away at him, reminding him how he couldn’t even afford to pay you close to what you deserved.

His eyes wandered to an image on the counter. There was himself, a familiar stickman with brown hair. There was Abby, of course, given the height difference. And then there was another figure, the hair undeniably similar to yours. All three figures were holding hands together inside a square home.

“What’s this?” He picked it up.

“Abby told me it’s us,” you had laughed, placing a dish in the dishwasher. “Cute, right?”

There was a thumping in his chest as he looked at you, before looking back down at the paper. All he could manage was a smile as he pinned it to the fridge.

You soon felt his presence at your side, his hand picking up another dish while you rinsed yours.

“Let me help with that,” he said.

—

You’ve fallen into a routine. Every day, when he returns home, he is met with the same thing. You, in the kitchen, humming. You, greeting him with a smile. You, sitting down to eat with him. You, always asking him about his day even though you know by now that he has nothing interesting to say. He prefers to hear you talk instead, to listen to you ramble about your shitty college professors and annoying roommates. He likes it like this. To be able to pretend that he’s not some deadbeat who can’t hold down a job to save his life or some traumatized freak haunted by the memories of his dead brother and parents. With you, he gets to pretend like he’s normal.

But, of course, just because he can pretend things are normal, doesn’t mean they are. Reality soon hits him when he’s sitting in his boss’s office, asking Mike for his badge and ID. It hits him when he’s driving home, remembering how he beat an innocent man, his knuckles still bloody as he grips the steering wheel tight. He walks through the front door, hearing you greet him from the kitchen, a sound that would have been music to his ears any other day.

“Mike?”

He doesn’t have the energy to reply. No, all he can do is walk over to the chair in the living room, sinking into it with a sigh. He loosens his tie and closes his eyes, trying to ignore the sound of dishes clattering in the sink followed by your footsteps against the hardwood floor.

“Hey, you okay?” Your voice is soft and gentle. His eyes shoot open when he feels your even softer touch against his forehead, laying the back of your palm flat. “You’re not sick, are you?”

In all the time you’ve been babysitting, neither of you had done so much as touch each other at all. The few times he could remember was how your fingers brushed when you reached for the same dish in the sink or the innocent hand you placed on his shoulder that one time you laughed so hard you couldn’t hold yourself up. He had always made sure to keep his hands firmly placed in his pockets or at his side. Now, you were touching his face, and he thinks that’s the first time anyone has touched him like that in years.

“Don’t worry about me.” He pleads, his body betraying his words when he leans into your touch, your hand drifting to caress his cheek, “You don’t have to.”

You ignore him, and your eyes scan over his form, before landing on his bloodied knuckles. A gasp escapes you, followed by the scolding of his name. He hears you stumble towards the bathroom, rummaging through whatever you can find and returning with a washcloth and disinfectant. You kneel beside him, cleaning the dried blood from his wounds and he winced from the sting of the alcohol.

“I know I don’t have to,” you finally break the silence. “I worry because I care.”

“Why?”

You avert your gaze.

“I just do.”

“That’s not a good enough answer.” He presses. There’s another pause.

“Because this feels like home.”

The answer is enough to render both of you silent, you out of humiliation, and him out of shock because he hadn’t realized you thought the same way.

You finish wiping the last bit of dried blood from his knuckles and there’s a lingering feeling left on his skin, where your fingers held his hands. Soft. Familiar. You’re still kneeling in front of him, but you’re wearing an expression he hadn’t seen since the first week he met you. It’s that look of shyness, the way you used to squirm under his gaze or shrink your presence out of fear of overstepping a boundary.

“Mike?”

“Yeah?

“Let me take care of you. Please?”

He knows it’s wrong. He knows that “messing around with the babysitter” has never been a good idea in the history of ever, but when he sees you gazing up at him like that, sitting on your knees between his legs, your eyes wide like that. Well, what the fuck else is he supposed to do?

The chair isn’t too high from the floor, so he easily finds himself at somewhat your level when he leans forward, his hand lifting your chin to look him in the eye. He pauses, analyzing your face just for a moment. Your lips are parted, so prettily, and your eyes are filled with a look of lust and desperation.

“Please,” you repeat, this time in a whisper.

Any semblance of self-restraint he had before was all lost the moment his lips met yours. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was until he got a taste, a groan escaping his throat when he feels your tongue in his mouth. And you, you are so pliant. So eager to please. Still timid, hands hesitant as they rested on his knees, but so willing to let him handle you however he pleases, moaning when he tugs on your hair, whimpering when his hands grope your chest through your shirt.

“Quiet,” he mutters between kisses. You feel him pull away, the ghost of his lips at your ear, “we gotta be quiet, yeah?”

You nod, and he kisses your forehead, a tender change from his rough kisses shared only moments prior. He looks down at you, a flustered mess, but knows he must look the same. He couldn’t even remember the last time he let himself indulge like this. He feels your hand slither up his thigh, fumbling with his belt, groaning when you feel him through his jeans.

“You’ve had a long day, haven’t you?” You ask, looking up at him through your lashes as your hand dips into his boxers.

“You have no idea,” he says, his hand caressing the side of your face, making circles with his thumb against your cheek. He can feel your skin heat up under his touch. Your hand wraps around his hardening cock, and he has to stop himself from bucking into you. You’re just so gentle and sweet and he knows you’d let him take his frustration out but he just cannot allow himself to do that just yet— not without a little guilt.

“Then talk to me.”

“Got, ah, fired,” he chokes out, feeling your thumb swipe over his tip, gathering his pre-cum and helping you stroke up and down with more ease. “Was my fault, too.”

“You started a fight, didn’t you?”

“Something like that.”

He looks down at you, his cock now fully hard in your hand. He can’t hold but admire the sight, how you hungrily stare at him, or how you press your thighs together to relieve yourself of your own desires. He feels his breathing become heavier with each passing stroke of your hand on his dick, and he forces himself to look away, his hand that had previously been caressing the side of your head now digging his fingers into the back of your scalp.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” he leans his head back, in an attempt to stop himself from busting in your hand before you’ve even done anything. He swears he’s not usually this sensitive, but the fact that it’s been so long, and the fact that it’s you, had him feeling like he was a teenager getting his first handjob all over again. He tries not to think about it. “I’m already behind on bills. I don’t think I can even pay you. Probably won’t even get another fucking job after what I did.”

“You don’t need to pay me.”

“You’ve got to stop saying shit like that,” he shakes his head, almost in disbelief. He looks down at you again, and you’re pressing your lips to kiss the underside of his dick, then kissing his tip. He shudders. “You’re too good for this. For me.”

He’s about to continue, but your lips wrap around him and he can’t think of anything. Curse words slip from his lips, feeling your tongue work around him, your hot mouth taking him. He still has his hand on the back of your head, tempting him to force your head down, but he’s more curious about whether you’d try to take him all yourself— which you do. He feels your throat contract around him as you try to push yourself down his cock, determined to take it all. Sometimes, you really were that predictable. Sure, you were a timid little thing, but you were equally if not more stubborn. He grips the back of your head to pull you off, a cough rising to your throat as you catch your breath and he smiles lazily.

Your quick to take him back in your mouth, and he cherishes the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and your hands that reached for the base of him to stroke whatever you couldn’t take. He gives an experimental thrust and he’s in bliss when he hears you moan around him. And as much as he wishes he could do this forever, watching you take him in your mouth, he knows his own limits and he knows he won’t last any longer. Besides, he’s neglected your needs for far too long.

He pulls you off of his cock finally, tears stinging the corners of your eyes, your lips puffy from their earlier actions. Then, he’s lifting you to the couch, hovering over your form as your back hits the cushions. Mike is thankful that you chose to wear a skirt tonight because with your legs spread like this, he gets a full view of your white cotton underwear, as well as the wet patch your arousal has created. He brings his hand down between your legs, feeling you through the fabric. He can hear your breath hitch and he watches you bite down on your lower lip to suppress your noises. And as much as he wants to tell you not to, he is reminded by the fact that you are both doing this in the living room, and the last thing he wants to do is traumatize his little sister, who is sleeping a few doors down the hallway.

“Didn’t know you wanted me this bad,” he whispers, finally slipping his hand past the fabric barrier to gather your slick at his fingers and rub your clit with his thumb, his other fingers prodding at your hole but not yet entering.

“Wanted you for so long,” you admit, sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle around your clit again. “You’re really fucking hot.”

“Yeah?”

Two of his fingers finally sink into you and you’re gripping the fabric of his uniform at his shoulders. Rough, long and so much bigger than your own— you have to grit your teeth even harder to stop any sinful noises from escaping you.

“Always thought you were real pretty, too.” He continues, “You’re prettier right now, though.”

He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, the wet sounds making you burn up in embarrassment. He’s obsessed with the way your eyes roll back, how your pretty lashes flutter open and closed, and how your hips buck to meet his rhythm.

“More, please,” you finally let out, your eyes going down to his cock, which was still very much hard. “Need you inside.”

You whimper at the emptiness you feel when his fingers leave, but quickly forget about it the moment your panties are removed and you feel his cock rub against your cunt, the tip resting at your entrance. You expect to feel him push in, only to see that he has paused.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says, a pained look on his face. He had no reason to keep any around any more, not since providing for Abby had become his number one priority. He mentally kicked himself for it now.

“Mike,” you whine, trying to roll your hips up, but his hands remained firm against you, keeping you down. “I don’t care. Just pull out or something.”

You feel like a pathetic idiot for saying it, and he feels even more of one for considering it at all. All he can manage is a sigh. He’d already crossed so many lines tonight that he shouldn’t have. What difference would crossing one more be?

He hesitates before pushing in, but once he feels your tight walls around the head of his dick he can’t find it within himself to have any regrets. You’re so tight and warm and wet and he loves the way you stretch around him, gasping with every inch he gives you. He pauses when he’s buried at the hilt, mentally trying to cool himself down because the fact that he’s fucking you raw and you’re taking him so well is driving him mad.

“So good,” he coos, his hand on your face, thumb on your lower lip, “so fucking good.”

He pulls away until he’s nearly out again before thrusting into you fully, and he has to slam his hand over your mouth to stop the moan that would have escaped you. He continues to fuck you like this, slowly, and deeply, before it’s not enough, and he finds himself taking you faster, harder, wanting to see how much you were willing to take.

You feel every inch of him inside you, and you can’t help but clench around him every time the tip of his cock hits the spot inside you that you can’t reach with your own fingers. You feel so full and it’s everything and more that you’ve needed for so long.

He pushes up your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Your breasts are still covered by your bra, but he pinches your nipples through the lacy fabric anyway, content when he hears you make a sound, muffled by his other hand which remains on your mouth.

He can tell you’re close from the telltale sign of your pussy clenching harder, and how you start to freeze up, too fucked out to do anything else. He, too, starts to feel himself approaching his limit but knows he has to hold out long enough to let you reach your high first. He finally removes his hand from your mouth and uses it to rub your clit.

“Such a good girl,” he breathes.

“I’ll always be good for you,” you keep your voice a whisper, “Always waiting for you when you come home.”

Your words ignite a desire within him he never realizes he had. He had never considered himself too fond of domestic life until you came into his house and made it feel like home. Now, as he’s fucking you, the only thing he can think about is how deeply he wants to cum inside you, over and over again until he gives you another kid to take care of. He doesn’t care if he can’t afford it. He’ll pick up as many jobs as he can get just to take care of you.

He feels your back arch and your walls clench around him, immediately going to kiss you to swallow your cries. He ruts into you, over and over again and though there’s a sinful voice in the back of his head telling him to fill you up until he’s dripping out of you, he knows he should stay true to his promise to pull out. That is, until you tell him otherwise.

“You can do it inside,” you choke out, still fucked out from your orgasm, “I don’t mind—“

Before you can finish your sentence his hips come to a stop and he’s finishing inside you, as deep as he possibly can, as if to not waste a single drop. When he finally pulls out, he can’t help but watch in awe as his seed drips from your cunt down to your ass, ruining the couch cushions beneath you both. He tries not the think about the consequences that will bring. Instead, he’s pulling you close, catching his breath while laying his head against your stomach. Moments later, he feels your hand running your fingers through his hair and he sighs, leaning into your warmth.

“I don’t want you to be Abby’s babysitter anymore,” he starts, his voice hoarse and worn out. He can feel you tense up when he says it, before immediately continuing, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

He hears you laugh.

“Does that mean I won’t get paid anymore?”

“I’ll repay you in other ways,” he flashes you a suggestive smile, earning him a snort and a flick on his forehead. Still, the guilt gnaws at him from within. “Seriously, though. I will. I’ll take care of you, too.”

He doesn’t care what job he picks up next. He’ll take any job in the world, so long as it means he can provide for you and Abby.

—

You wake up the next morning, the scent of pinewood and campfire surrounding you. You don’t remember exactly how, but you remember, after being fucked mercilessly, being carried to his room, cleaned up, and falling asleep in Mike’s bed. Now, you find the place next to you empty but can observe Mike standing at the door, speaking in a hushed voice while holding back the door.

You stand on shaky legs, still wobbly from your earlier affairs, approaching the argument.

“Abby, go away!”

“No! Let me—“

“What’s all this?” You interject.

Mike loses his grip on the door and Abby opens it wide. Her arms are crossed, adorning a frown while Mike is bringing his hands to his face.

“Abby, I can explain—“

“Why didn’t you tell me you guys were having a sleepover?” She fumes, “We could have built a pillow fort!”

[lowkeyrobin]

MCYT ; they have a very obvious crush on you

includes ; tommyinnit, ranboo, badlinu, & quackity

warnings ; language

y/s/n = your ship name

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

constantly donates / talks through tts when you're streaming alone

TommyInnit donated $10!

"Tommy, stop giving me money, just use TTS"

only uses tts when you tell him to each and every time, it's routine

if he's streaming when you compliment him, chat always points out his red face to both of you

"shut up chat! I'm not blushing. you guys suck"

after a while he gets invested in the shipping

"if I open wattpad and don't see three new y/s/n fics I'm gonna lose my shit, guys"

"Tommy, Tommy, check ao3"

"I found one and it actually looks good!"

reading fanfics on stream (with permission of course and being light on the jokes and whatnot)

you and Tommy make your own fanfic too

he gets your friends to read it on their streams too 💀💀💀

literally every bit he writes is something he wants to do with you

such a hopeless romantic

RANBOO

always doing you favors

never saying no to you

"yes sir/maam!"

always donos on your streams while speed running or playing horror games to tell you good luck

it rlly isn't a stream wo one of their donos istg

chat always asking where he is during one of said streams

editors go CRAZY with the misfits vlogs & tom simons vlogs with you two in them

the chemistry???

you react to / watch each sorry boys episode on stream when they come out

editors go crazy with your compliments to ranboo

they do too 😭😭

giggling and kicking their feet cause they're so funny to you

he's literally head over heels bruh

gives u free merch and stuff

FREDDIE BADLINU

he's usually nice/full of compliments but he's so extra with you

claims it's for the bit

lets you dye his hair

ylyl streams with him constantly LMAO

he wrote your name on his bi flag for some reason??? when you ask about it he just says "why not?" and you shrug it off

always helping you pick out clothes and shit when thrifting/shopping

always has to find a pair of sunglasses for you I swear

constantly asks his viewers to edit you guys

it's become a part of your relationship where he clearly has a crush on you but you can't tell if it's for the bit or if he's serious so you never say anything

the tom simons vlogs w you guys go hard

especially the ylyl irl with ran, tommy, charlie, james, and billzo

same with the ylyl american version w jack, tommy, james, harry, etc

editors and fanfic writers have field days with those

just straight up making out as "friends" for the bit????

even Tommy is confused and he's been supporting Freddie through the dumb shit he's been doing

supports the fanfics

he honestly reads them

if you catch him doing so he says he's just interested and he might read it on stream for funnies

QUACKITY

"accidently" sends you free merch nearly every drop

qsmp streams are never complete without you guys flirting or going on a date

basically old karlnapity but you guys on the qsmp

qsmp y/s/n streams go so hard, they're literally the best

cellbit, roier, and jaiden officiating your fake wedding

qsmp y/s/n edits and fanart went crazy

youre like "guys no fanfics or edits of y/s/n, only if hes comfortable with it, I don't want you guys to weird him out"

and hes begging people to make the fanfics, the fanart, the everything

daily tweets of "guys send me more y/s/n fanart" or "any good y/s/n fanfic recommendations??"

cellbit always replies to those tweets with some long ass dictionary ass response to fuck with you two

fitmc of all people makes you guys a little tumblr oneshot.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

——————————————————————

I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

——————————————————————

Up Next

Chapter 1

[fuctacles]

Just like Cinderella

happy bday to my Prince Charming @blasvemous M | 3.3k | crack treated seriously, meet cuteugly something, idiot4idiot, humiliation kink mentioned | Ao3

"Shit, fuck!" Steve lets himself have one last glance at his wristwatch, and of course, it instantly proves to be a mistake. 

He runs straight into someone's back, and it punches all the air out of his lungs. He's stunned for a second, and can barely hear a rushed apology. He thinks he mutters back 'No, it was my fault', and by the time he blinks back into reality and crouches to pick up his bag, the guy is gone. 

But not all of him. 

On the pavement, right under his bag, he finds a... something.

It's made of metal and intricate, and not his. He picks it up and straightens up quickly, in hopes of seeing the guy he ran into. There are a lot of people rushing about, though.

"Hey!" He picks up his pace again, hoping to spot the person he ran into. He remembers long hair and a mix of citrusy shampoo and cigarette smell. Not much else. Nobody turns their head as he runs through the morning crowd, so he stuffs the item deep into his bag and focuses on the initial goal of rushing to work. He can worry about this all later. 

On his break, he takes the thing out of his bag to take a better look. It looks well-made and could be expensive, but he has no idea what it could be. It reminds him of old egg beaters, but he doubts that's what it is. Maybe a toy? One of these educational puzzles for nerds, like a Rubik's cube? Or! It could be a replica of some sci-fi movie gadget. Like the sonic screwdriver that Dustin made.

He probably should just ask around. 

His usual go-to, the self-titled oracle and part-time scholar Robin Buckley, had no better ideas than him. She turned the thing in her fingers, cradling it delicately like an eggshell, while humming and hemming. 

"Looks like a tiny brace. Maybe for a york's paw? The guy could be a vet," she offers. 

"Maybe," Steve nods, not convinced at all. He doesn't want to think about a little dog with a broken paw somewhere out there, its bones unprotected. "I was thinking it could be a kitchen utensil?"

Robin puts it on the desk between them and stares at it intently. 

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, embarrassed to share his idea. "Like an egg beater?"

Robin continues her loud thinking but in the end, leaves him with nothing. 

The thing weighs him down on his daily commute, waiting in the bottom of his bag for the day he finds its owner. Steve isn't even sure if he would recognize him. Them? After a week he wasn't even sure it was a guy. 

The workload doesn't give him a break either, and once Friday finally arrives, he makes a detour on his route home to grab a drink or two. After his first drink, he checks for any loose change he could put in the tip jar and his hand finds the Thing. He pulls it out with a sigh and puts on the bartop with a small clunk. As he reaches out to put what he's found in the jar, he hears a very concerning and loud choking sound. 

To his right, a long-haired guy is wheezing his lungs out, fist-punching his own sternum. Steve immediately leans over the empty stool between them and starts smacking his back to help.

"Jesus, you alright? Went down the wrong pipe?" He looks around the man, but all he sees is a glass of beer, so hopefully he didn't get a peanut lodged in his windpipe. 

The man lets out a really gross phlegmy cough, clears his throat, and takes a shuddering breath.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he wheezes out. "Just, uh, you know. Didn't expect to just turn around and see, uh, that." He spares a tiny glance at the Thing in front of Steve. 

Steve immediately brightens up, hoping to finally get an answer to his predicament. He swiftly moves to the empty seat, drink and Thing sliding along the bar with him. He sees the man wince while he's still facing forward like he's afraid to take a proper look. He takes a drink of his beer, this time slow and cautious, and Steve can see the redness spreading from his cheeks down his throat.

"You know what it is?" Steve asks hopefully, leaning closer to him. 

The man freezes, and maybe it wasn't in his best manners to just sit down next to someone without asking, but it's already happened and Steve is kind of desperate. 

He gulps down the beer, no accidents this time, but his voice is still strained, when he asks incredulously:

"You don't?! No, you know, that actually explains it. Take them damn thing off the bar for the love of Merlin."

Steve, while taken aback by the sudden shift and being ordered around by a stranger, stuffs the Thing away from peering eyes. 

"Why? What is it? Something illegal?" Fuck, why didn't he think about that? 

But the man is shaking his head.

"No, but I'm pretty sure the bartender wouldn't appreciate it."

"What is it?" Steve presses on.

The guy finally turns to him and Steve can see him in all his glory. Black leather, long hair, and a pair of truly soft brown eyes that don't match his overall vibe at all. And they stare right at him like they are trying to look straight into his soul. He's searching for something for a long, drawn-out moment, before he deflates, eyes skirting away, but he keeps facing Steve. 

"Really?" he mutters, mostly to himself. "It's a fucking cock cage, man."

"A fucking cock what?" Steve asks once he gets his voice back.

"You heard me. I'm not repeating myself," he says with a scoff, eyes falling to Steve's bag. His knee starts jumping up and down restlessly. "Where did you find it?"

But Steve had questions of his own.

"Is it like, a medical thing?" he asks. 

The looks he gets back would make him believe an alien just popped out of his forehead and started dancing Macarena. He frowns defensively.

"What? I've never seen something like this!" 

"It's a sex thing," the man responds mercifully, watching him closely. 

Now it's Steve's turn to gauge his eyes at the man. He looks briefly down at his bag like the thing could just grow tentacles and have its way with him. 

"How? Why?" he asks, mouth twisting at the images flashing in his mind. "How do you know that?"

The knee never stops jumping. If anything, it becomes more erratic. 

"Uh, I know guys who are into it." The man looks away again. 

Steve rolls his eyes. Sure. He knows a guy.

"So since you know some guys," he plays along. "Maybe they know more guys and they could ask around if anyone has lost one of these?" he suggests. "Now I want it off my hands even more."

The man scoffs, almost amused. 

"Could imagine. I could take it from you and just hand it over to them, make things easier for you," he offers, glances at him, and then shrugs.

Steve recoils at the idea.

"That? No, It's my fault the guy lost it, I wasn't looking and ran into him. I need to make sure it goes back to the right hands."

The man hums, drumming his fingers against the bar. 

"I want to be there when you ask random people if they are missing their cock cage."

Steve presses his lips together. 

"Stop saying that."

"What?" He tilts his head, looking amused. "Cock cage? Like the cock cage you have in your bag?"

"Yes. That."

He raises his hands placatingly. 

"All I'm saying is I would be embarrassed as fuck if I was the idiot who lost it. Would be hard to come forward and admit it," he says, raising his shoulders. 

Steve huffs, slumping against the bar.

"Fuck, you're right."

"I know," the man murmurs back and they quietly sip their drinks. 

"There must be places where it isn't that weird to admit it," Steve thinks out loud. He looks to his bar companion for confirmation but he's frowning at the liquor display in front of him, lost in thoughts. Steve hopes they aren't about him. The guy had a good profile and a cute nose.

"Hey." He nudges him gently with an elbow. 

"Hm?" The man turns, his frown melting away so he can raise his eyebrows curiously.

"Do you know any fetish places where I could leave a poster or something?"

The man only stares at him blankly. 

"You're gonna make posters," he states more than he asks.

"If I have to." Steve shrugs. 

"You sure you don't want me to just take it off you?"

"Nope."

"We could exchange numbers and I'll let you know when I find the owner."

Steve thinks about that. 

"You could lie, though," he points out. 

He huffs, annoyed. 

"I totally absolutely could," he agrees with a resigned nod like using logic pains him. Then, he sighs. "I could buy it off you?" he finally offers. 

Steve's taken aback.

"Why do you want it so badly?" He frowns at him.

"I just want to do you a favor, man!" He rolls his eyes. He's almost angry and 100% done with this conversation, it seems, as he downs the rest of his drink and slides off the barstool. 

"Tomorrow at ten, in front of the bookstore on John Paul. Bring your silly posters and I'll show you some kink shops and bars."

Steve blinks at him.

"That okay?" the man asks, tongue darting out to lick his dry lips. 

Hesitantly, Steve nods. 

"I guess that's my best shot. Thanks, man."

The guy nods.

"Don't mention it."

Then he turns and leaves, hands buried deep into his pockets, and Steve realizes he hasn't even asked for his name. 

He regrets not taking the guy on his offer to take the thing off him when he had the chance. Because he wouldn't be stuttering his way through explanations while his temporary companion revels in his embarrassment like it's the gods' nectar. 

At least now he knows his name is Eddie. 

Eddie pretends to be interested in the little display of nipple rings while Steve tries to convince the shop owner to hang his little poster saying "fetish gear found". The man finally yields, as do two others, thus concluding the number of sex shops in the area. 

"The bars don't open until late but we can try the Hangover before we part."

"What's that?" Steve asks, following Eddie anyway.

"Also a bar, but they serve hangover food around noon. They have the best bacon and won't tell me where they buy it from." He frowns like it's some personal feud. 

"Perfect. I can buy you lunch for helping me." Steve grins at him.

Eddie seems surprised at first but then smiles widely. 

"I won't say no to free food. This way, my good man!"

The place is a hole in the wall but really cozy. It seems like the same guy who took their order is cooking it and there's only one other person, with a coffee refill in front of them and a plate of... something unrecognizable under every possible sweet topping. 

"I gotta show this place to Robin, she'll love it," Steve comments while looking around. The inside looks like It was never fully finished or whatever purpose it served previously didn't require it. The walls are rough bricks, the windows old and probably drafty, and the only part of the floor that isn't rough cement is the dancefloor. 

But the collection of LED signs, mismatched couches, and a sunflower mural softened the rough interior. Steve will definitely come here again.

They get their own jug of coffee and Eddie pours for both of them.

"Girlfriend?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve rolls his eyes in a very tired way and Eddie almost chokes on his surprised laugh. 

"Geez okay, not a girlfriend then."

Steve chuckles dryly. 

"Nope, just my best friend. We play for different teams."

Eddie eyes him curiously but he doesn't elaborate on that. He clears his throat. 

"Well, in that case, I should tell you that all the places I've shown you today are queer-friendly."

"This included." The chef must have heard that last sentence. He places their food on the counter. "There you go, little gays, bone apéritif."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it goes," Eddie murmurs, immediately snatching a piece of bacon off his hash browns. 

"It is how it goes if you want more free coffee," says the chef as he turns around. 

"Your French is immaculate, Benjamine!" 

Steve makes an ugly snort at Eddie's terrible French accent. The man seems to be very proud of his little theatrics.

For a moment it's just the sound of forks against plates and the distant radio playing in the kitchen. Eddie finishes first, almost inhaling his food like he's a human vacuum, and pours himself more coffee. 

"You wanna go to the bars too? Later?"

Steve chews on his bite thoughtfully. 

"I think if you give me the addresses I'll be good to go on my own. You've already done so much, man."

Eddie is stunned into silence. This is not the answer he wanted. He licks his rapidly drying lips, looking for a good excuse to keep tagging along. 

"Uh, are you sure?" 

"Yeah, don't worry about it. You've wasted so much time on me today. I don't want to completely ruin your weekend." Steve smiles at him. 

"It's not a problem, really—"

"No, man, I wouldn't feel okay dragging you around." Steve shakes his head. 

"First of all, I'm dragging you around," Eddie huffs. "Second of all, it's the first time a man this pretty spent so much time with me and hasn't run for the hills. Let me have this."

Steve frowns at that information.

"You must have shit luck with men." 

"Tell me about it," Eddie murmurs into his coffee. 

"So it would be a date?" 

Eddie turns to him, eyes wide. But Steve holds his gaze.

"I mean, it would be nice." Eddie tugs on his hair nervously. "We can do the posters thing and then just have fun for the rest of the night, no?" he offers. 

"Absolutely." Steve smiles reassuringly. 

"Awesome." Eddie grins.

Steve spends hours figuring out his outfit. It's his first official date with a man, he has to look good. He therefore makes the mistake of calling his best friend. He nods along as she tells him what exactly to put on (How she has memorized his wardrobe is a question he doesn't want answered.) and then clears his throat when she takes a breath. 

"What if I don't want to attract women?"

There's a pause and then—

"My my, Steven, finally going for it?"

"You could say that."

"Where are you going? A bar? What's the vibe?"

He sighs. 

'We're kind of bar hopping, he's showing me around the area."

"Back up, back up!" she yells in his ear. "We?! You're not just going out? You have a date?"

"Yeah," Steve more breathes than says. He has a date. It's slowly dawning on him.

"Who is he?" Robin asks impatiently and he can easily imagine her curling up in her armchair for gossip. 

"His name is Eddie—"

"Okay, sounds normal."

"—he has this long, wild hair, and tattoos—"

"Okay, less normal."

"—but he is normal. A bit awkward, kind of dorky, not at all how you'd expect a guy in a leather jacket to be."

"Huh. Okay, maybe I won't find you in a ditch somewhere. I want a call when you get back, no later than tomorrow morning. At noon, I'm calling the police."

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. 

"Of course, Robbie. But can we focus on the matter at hand?"

In the end, he goes the Freddie Mercury route, with a tank top that shows off his chest hair, and tight jeans. He throws a colorful shirt over it to fight off the night chill. Eddie looks pretty much the same as earlier, though his band t-shirt looks a bit tighter. 

"Steve," he sighs instead of a proper greeting and Steve's face falls. He looks down at himself. 

"What? Is it that bad?"

"Darling, you're gonna get eaten alive. How am I supposed to fight off all of the bargoers?"

Steve laughs in surprise, feeling himself blush.

"I guess you'll just have to hold on to me."

Eddie's eyes sparkle under the setting sun. 

"Don't have to tell me twice," he says, pulling Steve inside their first location. "I saved my favorite place for last. But we can stay wherever you feel like."

Eddie stays true to his word, parading Steve around like an arm candy, their elbows hooked together. Only on their second bar does he realize something is amiss. 

"You didn't bring your posters?" he asks curiously, cocking his head. 

Steve hums next to him, sipping on the colorful drink the bartender recommended.

"Do I need them?"

Eddie's visibly taken aback by the question. He frowns at Steve. 

"Didn't you want to find the owner?"

Steve nods, unfazed. 

"Yeah, and I did."

Eddie's face blanches. He opens his mouth before closing it abruptly, his frown deepening. 

"What? When?" he asks, barely containing his panic and immensely confused. 

"Earlier today." Steve shrugs. "Haven't given it back yet, though."

"Oh, thank gods." Eddie visibly deflates. Steve raises his eyebrows at that, so he rushes to add: "It's great that you found him so fast." He forces out a smile. "Who is it? Did he know what it was?" The poster was purposefully vague so the person calling in would have to say what they'd lost. 

Steve shakes his head, raising the drink to his lips to prolong the suspense just a bit more. 

"It's you."

Eddie's brain short circuits. He's stunned for too long for his forced laugh to work. 

"Hahah, what?" 

Steve smiles at him and since he's feeling extra merciless tonight, reaches out for the man's neck. Eddie looks close to fainting but Steve doesn't relent and rubs a thumb across his jugular, observing him shiver before he pulls him in by his nape. He leans in to press his nose to Eddie's skin, fingers digging into the roots of his hair, where lingers the smell of his shampoo. Artificial lemon and cigarettes. He must have taken a shower before going out. 

"You smell just like the guy I ran into that day," Steve explains close to his skin as he traces it with the tip of his nose. Slowly, he moves away. He's a bit worried he moved too fast, but Eddie's cheeks are red and his eyes are fixed on his mouth, so he relaxes back into his seat. "And if I had any doubts, your reaction just now dispelled them all," he finishes with a smirk. 

Eddie groans, hiding in his hands.

"This is the most embarrassing date in my life and once I wore my shirt inside out."

Steve laughs but reaches out to put his hand on Eddie's knee to weaken the blow. 

"Don't worry, it's working on me."

Eddie pushes his fingers apart to peek at him. 

"Really?"

"Surprisingly, yes." Steve nods. "I hope it works out, preferably long enough so I can tell about our first meeting at the engagement party." His smile turns wide and teasing. "We'll put Cinderella to shame."

Eddie groans, but it sounds more pained this time. 

"Careful," he says heatedly. "My humiliation kink is flaring up," he says, aiming for humor, but something new wakes up in Steve and he cocks his head with a fake pout.

"Poor baby. You wanna go hide your shame somewhere more private?"

Eddie presses his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose. 

"Can we?"

Steve finishes quickly his drink and slides off his bar stool. He feels the pleasant buzz of alcohol and Eddie Eddie Eddie. He leans in for a quick, impulsive peck against his pink lips.

"Of course." He grins. "Let's go."

[taintandviolent]

Ouija Board (Tate Langdon x Reader)

Summary: You have a sleepover at your new house, and your friend decides to bring out your Ouija board. But, you’re all teenage girls, so the questions are completely unhinged and un-serious. But, the ghost you’re talking to takes full advantage of the situation. It’s a perfect opportunity, he’s been watching for you weeks. You’re living in his room, afterall.

warnings: 2.9k words -- self insert! female receiving. shameless smut. post-death Tate, ghost sex, cunnilingus, handjob, rough sex, unprotected sex, mention of ghosts/death.

Ao3 link here! Full fic below the cut! 18+.

tagged: @zabelcolin @kaismanwich @elsamars @thewolveswithin @marylovesevanpeters @80strashbag @r-3tro​ @twinkiemaximoff​ @milkovich-misfit {dm/ask to be added!}

It was the third week in the new house.

It was the first time that you actually felt at home. Somehow, you’d managed to make two friends from school, which was equally as shocking to you as it was to your parents. In previous schools, you’d always been on the outskirts, bored stiff at the idea of socialising. When you’d announced to your dad at dinner that you’d actually braved the choppy shores of friendship, he’d nearly choked on his coffee.

“That’s wonderful! Why don’t you invite them over for dinner tonight?” Your mom asked, setting her mug down on the table. You rocked your foot back and forth, mulling over the idea. Previously, your days off from school had been spent unpacking and checking around corners, listening to the creaking and whining of an old house.

Your mother was delighted with its age, commenting on the Tiffany glass and wood — but you felt things that had rotted underneath the wood. Things that whispered when your back was turned, or lingered in the kitchen when you went for a glass of water in the middle of the night.

“Okay, sure.”  

So that night, instead of flicking the light switch off in your bathroom and making a beeline for your bedroom, you sat on the floor with Jessica, Angie, a dish of pizza rolls and three glasses of grape soda.

You swallowed the mouthful, and nodded. “No, I’m serious. This house is weird. The first week I was here, in the kitchen… I saw a blonde lady with a hole in the back of her head.”

Jessica snapped the book she was leafing through, and turned. “I bet she was murdered. Don’t you have an Ouija board?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, pointing towards the bookcase. “Never used it, though.”

“You’re going to. This is much more fun than going to Town Hall and asking for records on previous owners. Sometimes, they don’t include death certificates — which is obviously what everyone is interested in. That’s the good stuff.” It took all of three minutes for Jessica to set it up. In unison, the three of you delicately placed two fingers on the planchette.

“Okay… so, what do we ask?”

You chewed on the inside of your lip, thinking.

“Is there anyone here with us?” You blurted out.

The planchette skidded to life, circling in the middle of the board. You’d seen it happen in movies, but the actual sensation was an unsettling one. YES. You all exchanged looks, searching for any guilty expressions — but it seemed that none of you had opted to play any tricks. The planchette had moved by itself.

“Did you die here?” Angie asked.

YES.

Jessica gasped. “Ooooh, what if it’s a cute ghost boy like in Casper? Can I keep you?”  

Completely enrapt with the idea, she turned her attention to the board, and asked, “Is the spirit in this room male?”

YES.

“Well, that rules out Miss Hole in her Head.” You cleared your throat, focusing on the printed letters. “Have you been the one in my room every night?”

“The one in your room every night?!” Jessica hissed, shooting a pointed look at you. You shrugged apologetically. Angie, who was visibly uneasy with the entire idea, almost fell backwards when the spirit answered.

YES.

“Oh my god!?” Jessica hung her head between her arms, laughing. “It’s probably some old grandpa with a shrimp dick, let’s be real here.”

“Bet. I’ll find out. Do you have a big dick, Mr. Ghost?” You asked.

Again, the planchette zipped to YES. Whoever he was, he didn’t hesitate. Cute. The three of you howled, laughing at the ridiculousness of the question. Angie desperately tried to redirect the conversation by asking the ghost what it wanted. The planchette spelled out HER.

Jessica lifted her fingers, and Angie screeched at her to return them. “If you don’t say goodbye, the spirit will have an open invitation to come into you!”

“To come!?” Jessica mocked. “To come into me?! Oh, the horror — don’t come into me! Pull out first, Ghost.”

Angie scowled. “You’re so gross.”

As they bickered, you stared at the planchette. It was still active, despite Angie and Jessica’s attention being pulled away. It quivered back and forth, as though it was shaking nervously.  

Once Jessica’s wandering mind had been reigned back in, the three of you managed a few more more questions; some about murder, some about occult, and some about other ghosts in the house. Eventually, the sun disappeared from your window, plunging your room into darkness, and your mother called the three of you down to eat. Your friends stayed for about an hour after dinner, and they’d seemingly forgotten about the Ouija board. You hadn’t, though. You leaned your back against the door, the coldness of the glass piercing through your cotton shirt. Your eyes trailed up the staircase, following the bend of the bannister as it curved to the left. Before you made your way upstairs to ready yourself for bed, you craned your neck down the hall, trying to listen for the whispers.

~

You sat upright in your bed, gasping for air. The book clutched in your hand fell to the floor with a thud. You hadn’t even really remembered falling asleep, but the creak of your floorboards had woken you up. You were met with nothing but the silence and glittering darkness of the room while your eyes adjusted. Eventually, the speckles turned into furniture pieces; your dresser, your mirror, your bookcase… everything seemed in order. The clock on your bedside table incessantly blinked 2:34 AM.

Something skidded across the floor, a spinning blur of tan and black. You yelped, throwing yourself up against your headboard. Your room was silent save for that sound of something hard scooting against a flat surface. You took a deep breath, and crept forward gingerly, wincing each time your mattress creaked.

You gripped the edge of your bed frame tightly, knuckles paling. You peered over. In the middle of the floor where you’d been sitting earlier, the Ouija board was laid out. The planchette swept across the board as it had earlier, but this time with no hands to guide it. It zipped across the board aggressively, as though it was trying to get your attention.

“Hello?”

The triangle paused, then slowly drifted to hello.

Dumbfounded, your mouth opened and closed. You were at a loss — because no horror movie had ever given you any idea how to politely hold a conversation with a spirit outside of the traditional setting.

“Um…. can I… help you? Are you here to possess me?”

Stupid. That was stupid.

Watching as the planchette swept across the board, you read the letters allowed.

“L…A…Y…. Lay? Lay. Okay. B…A…C…K? Lay back?” You waited for further confirmation, but the planchette stayed still for a moment.

It started spinning again, quickly spelling out a final instruction. “Close my eyes. Lay back and close my…. eyes.”

You heaved a sigh, and against your better judgement, you did. You shimmied back underneath the covers, pulling them up to your chest, and waited. The seconds were excruciating, and you were sure some horror movie had to have started like this.  

The duvet rustled at the bottom of the bed, and all at once, a gust of cold air hit your feet. The mattress gave to the weight of someone, and you yelped at the feeling of clothed shoulders nestling in between your thighs.

A broad hand ghosted across your stomach, fiddling the scalloped edge of your pyjama shorts. It swooped into your inner thigh, then circled down along your knee. Though the actions were soft, you couldn’t help but feel the knot forming in your stomach. Letting out a soft whimper, you bit your lip, clamping down hard. One hand slid up, caressing the curve of your ribs. You writhed. “You’re driving me insane…” you whispered harshly. Had you really been that touch starved? 

Lips hovered over your inner thigh, the hot breath washing over the warm skin. A single finger ran along the inside, trailing further and further up. He slowed as he neared you, wordlessly asking for permission. 

“Please,” you begged, doing everything you could not to scoot your hips down into him and embarrass yourself any further. “Please…” 

He continued. The pad of his finger floated over you, stroking, teasing until the wetness soaked through the threads. The hands disappeared, but only to return to the sides, where they gripped the waistband, tugging them softly off your hips.

You took a deep breath and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, muffling the shrill whine that tried to escape. Whoever he was, lapped at your cunt like it was a melting ice cream cone, and it didn’t take long for it to start weeping, soaking the green sheets beneath you.

Your chest rose and fell quickly, and your eyelids fluttered, overwhelmed with the sensation. Everything was white and on fire. Your thighs trembled deep within the muscle with every flick of his tongue. Were you really getting eaten out by a ghost? Was that actually happening? You felt silly acknowledging that. His tongue flattened out against your clit and you let out a whine, erasing every other thought. He pressed his face deeper into your wet folds, tongue flicking at the underside of your clit.

“Fffffuck, oh my god.”

You had to know. You swallowed, and tightened your lips into a thin line. You were ready for whatever horrifying visual would meet you. With one final surge of courage, you flipped the covers up, opened your eyes and gazed into the tented darkness. A head of soft, blonde curls bobbed softly between your legs.

“HELLO?!” It wasn’t a greeting, but the boy lifted his head from your cunt. Two dark eyes glimmered at you from beneath the duvet.

“Hey,” he said, chin glistening. “I’m Tate. I used to live here.”

“You’re so…. cute?”

He smiled crookedly, the dimples in his cheek deepening. “Were you expecting Freddy Krueger or something?”

Your head fell back on the pillow like an anvil and a breathy laugh broke your pants. “Yeah, maybe. Jesus Christ…. I don’t know. I’ve never had a ghost between my legs.”

“You liked it. You’re so wet.” He was pleased with himself, you could tell. Reaching one finger up to stroke your opening, he angled his head to watch the way you clenched and squirmed at his touch.

“Was I… were you the one I was talking to with my friends?” He nodded. He shifted his weight, manoeuvring himself up until he was above you, supporting himself with hands on either side of your neck.

“I’ve been watching you since you moved in, Y/N… I didn’t want to scare you away.” He confessed, searching your face. “I’ve wanted you for weeks.”  

You were scrambling to keep your thoughts in one manageable bundle. On one hand, this scenario was insane and you were sick to be enjoying it. On the other… sure, he was dead, but he was easily one of the cutest boys you’d ever seen and the way he wanted you was intoxicating. His dark eyes darted from your lips to your eyes, wordlessly asking for permission. You craned your neck up to meet him, pressing into his plush, pink lips.

You’d never been one of those boy crazy teenagers, but you understood the cathartic release that sex brought. It was carnal and natural. You’d only ever slept with one other person, so the hunger was never sated, and you were left quietly fingering yourself after your parents fell asleep. Every time you’d had the chance to have made out with someone though, you tasted them. Deeply. Kissing someone released their scent, the one that only intimate partners got. And none of them had ever been as heady and addictive as Tate was. You tilted your head to get further into his waiting mouth, swirling your tongue with his. You whimpered, sending a moan down his throat.

You reached under, sliding your hands down his stomach. The tiniest trail of hair guided you to the waistband of his jeans, where you made quick work of the buttons. Breaking the kiss only to help with scooting his jeans over the curve of his ass, Tate quickly returned his lips against yours, his tongue moving past your lips eagerly.

Although you were going in blind, it wasn’t difficult to find his cock. Not only did it take up most of the space between you two, but it was hot to the touch, the heat radiating from beneath the thin fabric of his boxers. You pressed your hand against him, getting an idea for the length.

“Huh. So, you weren’t lying about that.” Tate’s hips ground against your palm in response. You reached up, flipping the elastic down so you could slip your hand in, dragging your fingers along the soft tip. Your palm was immediately slick with his precum; the thick fluid coated the soft skin. You used your thumb to smear some of it to the underside of the head, teasing at the ridges. He groaned, burying his face into your neck.

“I didn’t lie about anything you asked me.”

You began stroking him underneath the sheets in slow, full movements and Tate’s breathing hitched, hips bucking forward involuntarily. You sped up, feeling warm droplets dribble onto your exposed tummy. Your thumb pressed into the squishy flesh of his head, not expecting the reaction that followed.

“Mm-uh—please. Please, I want you. Please.” He was begging, whining, and his big brown eyes were filled with a pathetic yearning that made your walls soak even further.

“So do it.”

He wasted no time in completing your demand. He sat up, the covers falling off his back.Tate gripped himself, giving his cock a few pumps before he lined himself up, pressing his hot, leaking tip into your entrance. Snatching the opportunity from him, you bucked your hips up to his, forcing his cock inside. You clenched around him hungrily and Tate let out a throaty whine as he pushed the remaining length into you.

He started out slow, taking his time as he slid in and out of you, but the slick pull of your walls each time he slid out unravelled his concentration. Each thrust seemed a little more desperate than the last, his balls slapping against you, splashing the mixture of his spit and your cum against your inner thighs. Bottoming out inside of you, he arched his neck backwards, letting it hang heavy. “Are you a virgin?”

“Wha — no.” You breathed, adjusting your head on the pillow to look at him. Odd question to ask in the middle of the deed. “Why?”

Tate swallowed, and between pants, said, “Because…. you’re so wet.” He dropped forward, pressing his forehead against yours. His cock was still inside, the girth hitting you at a new angle, and the fullness made your stomach clench.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, okay? Tell me if I’m hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You nodded fervidly, and slithered your hands underneath his sweat-soaked shirt until it gathered. Tate lifted his arms, and allowed you to slip the shirt over them. You tossed it towards the edge of the bed, and raked your nails along his naked chest.

“Please.” It was your turn to beg. Tate backed his hips out, pulling himself from your warmth. “I want it.”

He dropped back down to his hands, getting a tight grip on the mattress behind you. His lips met yours again, hungrily. It provided only a momentary distraction, because the second that Tate started pounding into you, you could focus on nothing else — except suppressing your aroused screams. He scooted closer to you on the bed, angling himself to get deeper.

He was hitting every spot he could, and your breaths quickened as he fucked you closer to the edge. You bit down on your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. He had just started, and you were already about to lose it.

“Are you gonna’ cum? Huh?” Tate asked, now struggling to keep his rhythm. If you were close, he seemed to be closer — and you didn’t feel so bad. Tate reached down, pulling himself out to slide the tip of his cock over your clit a few times before stuffing it back in. Your lips parted in a soundless scream as you felt the unmistakable warmth filling you, the quivering in your legs, and the desperate, spasming arch of your back.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tate chanted, feeling your orgasm as it gripped him in a wet, pulsing chokehold. “Fuck!”

As he spilled into you, Tate fell atop of your body, pressing his sweaty forehead against yours. His hips were on autopilot, erratically bucking with each gush. You winced, on the verge of overstimulation. Gradually, his thrusts slowed.  

He flopped over on the side of you, one hand stroking the outside of your thigh delicately. He was gazing at you dreamily when you turned to face him.

“So, do I have to bring out the Ouija board each time I want to see you?”

Tate propped his head up on his hand. “You want to see me again?”

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling, a taunting smile curling around your swollen lips. “Uhhh… yeah.”

“I can be here every night if you want.” He purred.

“Haven’t you been anyway? Or did you lie about that?”

Tate’s brows pulled upwards, looking hurt. “I told you — I didn’t lie about anything! I’d never lie to you!”

“Okay, shh —“ You silenced him with your lips. “I’ll be right back. I have to pee.”

For the first time since you’d moved in, you weren’t afraid of ghosts as you walked to the bathroom. You were just afraid that the one in your bedroom would be gone when you got back.

He wasn’t, though.

[ray4hotchner]

Reckless

❀ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: aaron hotchner x reader

❀ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Y/N, a team member of the BAU, faces her past during a challenging case. Struggling to cope, Y/N's impulsive actions strain her relationship with Hotch.

❀ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 5.5k

❀ 𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣’𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: Hi everyone, I finally caved in and wrote something on my own. This is my first fic, so let me know what you think

❀ 𝕞𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕒𝕔𝕔: @iyv-ray24

On Ao3

Normally, Y/N was one of the last people to board the jet after a case. Not this time though. She didn't wait for the team and drove straight from the sheriff's station to the airport once the case was wrapping up. It had been a couple of stressful days, and everyone was exhausted. However, Y/N was not only exhausted but also very, very pissed – pissed at the team, pissed at herself, but most importantly, at Hotch.

This case was not easy for any of them. Three girls between the ages of 9 and 13 were abducted, horribly abused, and killed before their bodies were dumped in different local parks in the city. The BAU was called in when the third child was missing, but unfortunately, they arrived way too late. Now, the fourth girl, Casandra Johnson, an 11-year-old, was missing.

Most of the times, Y/N wouldn't have problems with distancing herself emotionally from cases, but this one just hit too close to home. Her little baby sister was abducted from their front porch when she was 9. Y/N herself was only a teenager at that time, and she was the one babysitting her sister. Just a couple of minutes of distraction, and her baby sister was gone forever. They found her body a week later, and the man who killed her luckily got caught, but Y/N never forgave herself and lived every day with the guilt of letting her sister down.

Yep, the team knew all about this stuff. They were familiar with each other's messed-up pasts and traumas; they were like a close-knit family, after all. So, when Penelope started laying out all the details about the case, she could feel her teammates' eyes on her. Sure, it wasn't easy to stare at pictures of innocent little girls and remember what happened to her own sister, but that wasn't going to stop her from getting her job done. She was a pro at this, and as far as she was concerned, this was just another case.

She found herself in the tiny kitchenette of the jet, pouring a cup of coffee, when Hotch walked over.

"Hey, want some coffee?" she offered, but he just shook his head.

"You doing okay?" he asked, standing close because the kitchenette was so darn small.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she replied, knowing exactly why, but she wasn't about to show her feelings to him.

"You could sit this one out, you know.”

"Hotch, no way! Please don't even suggest that! These girls deserve justice, and I've got to see it through."

"I get it, but if things start getting too heavy and overwhelming, promise me you'll give me a heads-up," he said gently.

"You bet," she nodded.

They hung there for a few more seconds. Hotch's presence always had a calming effect on her, and she felt more grounded when he was around. He saw the tension on her face and he probably wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but he held back. So, he turned around and went back to his seat. She watched Hotch walk away and caught eyes with Emily, who gave her a knowing look. She was the only one on the team who knew how Y/N felt about Hotch. To this day, she regretted telling Emily, on a drunken night, that she had a crush on their boss. Emily had persistently encouraged her on more than a few occasions to confess her feelings, but she had consistently declined, fearing the potential embarrassment and awkwardness it could create between them. Emily smirked at her, but she only mouthed "Don't" before also returning to her seat.

The case was progressing as usual – examining the crime scene, talking to victims' relatives and potential eyewitnesses, and creating the unsub profile. Throughout the investigation, the team noticed Y/N becoming increasingly agitated. However, things took a sharp downward turn after Casandra was kidnapped. Y/N grew moody, neglected sleep and food, and immersed herself in reexamining the same files and evidence over and over again.

Y/N and Spencer found themselves back at the last crime scene, as Y/N insisted on revisiting it, when new information arose. Penelope added them to the group call and informed everyone that her research had led her to a man fitting the unsub's profile. She sent over his last registered address.

"We're nearby. It's not far from the last crime scene," Y/N informed the team.

"We'll meet you guys there," Derek said before they ended the call. Y/N and Spencer then drove to the address.

They parked in front of the house and awaited the team's arrival when Y/N spotted movement inside. She immediately called Hotch.

"Hotch, there's someone in the house. Maybe he's holding the girl in there. We need to go in. Now!"

"We'll be there shortly. You can't go in there without backup," Hotch cautioned.

"Spencer is here too."

"Agent Y/L/N, I said wait. That's an order!" Hotch's tone was stern.

"I'm sorry, I have to," Y/N replied, and with that, she exited the car and headed toward the front door of the house. Hotch heard Spencer shouting after Y/N before the call ended. Cursing under his breath, he instructed Derek to speed up.

In under 5 minutes, the team reached the unsub's address. The front door had been kicked open, and the team could hear Y/N yelling at someone.

"Where is he? Tell me! Where is your brother?" She was shouting, pinning a young man facedown on the carpet. Y/N's knee was pressed into his back, immobilizing him as she held his hands behind his back.

"Agent Y/L/N, that's enough!" Hotch's order rang out, and he turned to Emily, gesturing for her to take over. Emily walked over, cuffed the man's hands, and assisted him to his feet. The officers and the team exited the house. As they were leaving, Hotch turned to Y/N and said, "We will discuss this later."

Upon arriving at the station, Hotch instructed Derek and Rossi to interrogate the suspect's brother regarding the unsub's whereabouts. He told the team, except for Y/N, to leave the room the sheriff assigned to the BAU upon their arrival. Facing her, Hotch clenched his jaw, in order to stay calm.

"You are off the case," he stated in an unwavering voice.

"Hotch, no, I'm—"

"You. Are. Off. The case. Agent Y/L/N."

"That's not fair. We have the guy's brother."

"That's not fair? That's not fair? Are you really talking back right now?" Hotch's anger escalated.

"I said I'm sorry! But what if we would have lost our chance? That guy had his things packed; he was leaving!"

"I don't care if he was leaving or not! You can't act on your own in situations like this! You put yourself and Spencer in danger."

"We're fine!"

"Yeah, luckily! But you didn't know what awaited you behind that door. Both of you could have been injured or worse. Your actions were selfish and unprofessional. I don't want you anywhere near anything related to this case until we're back in Quantico. Do you understand?"

Y/N didn't even respond; she simply stormed out of the room. She headed straight to the bathroom, seeking some privacy to calm down. Splashing her face with ice-cold water, she leaned over the sink, taking deep breaths while still seething with anger. Just then, JJ entered the restroom. Like everyone else at the station, she had heard the heated exchange between Hotch and Y/N and came to check on her.

"Hey, are you alright?"

"I'm off the case."

"Maybe it's for the best, don't you think?"

"Not you too, JJ," Y/N replied, releasing a heavy sigh as she dried her hands and face. She walked past JJ and left the restroom, unwilling to argue with her as well. Although she was banned from anything related to the case, Hotch hadn't instructed her to leave the station entirely or return to the hotel, so she remained. In the breakroom, she sat, observing and straining to catch any updates. She watched as Derek and Rossi emerged from the interrogation room, but they refused to share information due to Hotch's orders. Naturally, Spencer and Emily also followed Hotch's directives, all for Y/N's own well-being.

Suddenly, there was movement as the team geared up, putting on their vests. Clearly, they had a new lead. Y/N swiftly rose, walking toward the team to grab her own vest, but Hotch halted her immediately.

"I told you that you're not allowed anything related to the case."

"Hotch, come on! Punish me with paperwork or anything else, but not like this, please!"

"No."

"Hotch, maybe you should—" Derek attempted to intervene.

"I said no!" Hotch's tone was firm as he locked eyes with Y/N. He could see the anger in her eyes and how she was holding back tears of frustration. With Hotch's final words, the team exited the station and drove away. Unable to hold back, Y/N retreated to the bathroom, shedding a few tears of anger. She knew she had made a mistake and was in the wrong, but the frustration and sense of being left behind lingered. Hotch should have been the first to understand the weight of guilt from not saving a loved one. Yet, he treated her as the issue, disregarding the missing child who might require the help of every agent for her rescue.

She let out a deep breath, a release that felt like she had been holding it in for days, as the team returned to the station with the little girl in Emily's arms. Y/N's gaze remained fixed on the heartwarming scene of the girl reuniting with her parents, embraces and kisses shared all around.

Mistiness gathered in Y/N's eyes once more, her mind drifting to how it might have felt to get her own little sister back all those years ago. Lifting her eyes from the heartwarming family reunion, her gaze locked with Hotch's, and it was as if he could read her thoughts. He took a step towards her, but she promptly spun around and walked away.

Hotch was not surprised by her reaction; he didn't even know why he had attempted to approach her. He did know, deep down, but he wasn't ready to admit it to himself, especially not at this moment. A few minutes later, he noticed Y/N storming out of the station, her bag slung over her shoulder.

"She said she'll be waiting by the jet," JJ informed Hotch as they both watched Y/N leave.

That was why she found herself being the first to arrive at the jet, a rarity. Normally, she'd take the seat in front of Hotch, and they'd dive into their paperwork during the flight back home. It was an opportunity to talk and maybe even steal glances at his handsome face. But now, she didn’t even want to hear his voice.

Instead, she settled onto the broad couch, the same one where Spencer often napped, and attempted to drift into sleep. Exhaustion from the past days quickly pulled her into slumber. She faintly registered the team entering the jet and briefly woke at takeoff, but she promptly turned away and slipped back into sleep, determined to avoid everyone, especially Hotch.

The jet's interior was dimly lit, and most of the team dozed off in their seats. Hotch occupied a couple of seats away from the couch where Y/N was deeply asleep, while Rossi sat directly in front of him. He observed her for a moment, noticing her curling up into a ball – she must be cold. The realization prompted Hotch to stand up promptly. He opened one of the jet's cupboards and retrieved a blanket. Quietly, he approached Y/N and draped the blanket over her, observing as she snuggled into the soft fabric. With the exception of Rossi, everyone else was already asleep, so his actions would likely go unquestioned by the team. Besides, he was merely helping a colleague, right? He lingered by her side for longer than necessary; her relaxed face was undeniably beautiful, and he wanted – no, needed – to savour it for just a little while longer. He was painfully aware that the only expression he'd encounter in her eyes when she woke would be resentment toward him. He would give anything to reach out and caress her cheek at this very moment. Eventually, he returned to his seat, and Rossi's gaze immediately landed on him.

"You're hopeless, Aaron," Rossi chuckled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Hotch replied, his gaze shifting to the files before him.

"You know, she kind of has the right to be angry at you."

"You can't seriously think that what she did was right."

"No, I do not. It was actually really fucking dumb, but you're sort of being a hypocrite here."

"How so?"

"Well, yes, she made a mistake barging into that house on her own, and she acted impulsively. But so did you. Every one of us has made stupid mistakes at some point, and hers at least helped us locate the unsub. If it were any other agent, you would have let them join the rescue and handed them a pile of paperwork as punishment later. But because you have an emotional attachment to her and feelings for her, you were afraid she'd act recklessly again. You couldn't risk her getting hurt, like, say, jumping in front of a bullet – which we both know she would have. So, you left her behind. Not to mention, you understood why she acted the way she did. This case was deeply personal to her. Needless to say, you both acted like idiots."

Hotch leans back in his seat and lets out a sigh. He knows Rossi's right, though sometimes he hates working with profilers.

"We all want to protect the people we love, Aaron. But remember, she's still an agent, and this is her job," Rossi adds before returning to his files.

Hotch glances over at her and ponders Rossi's words. He realizes he definitely overreacted because it was you who put yourself in danger. He knows she's a great agent and can take care of herself in these dangerous situations, but just the thought of something happening to her makes his stomach drops.

It had been a couple of days since the team had returned to Quantico, and as Hotch expected, Y/N was avoiding him at all costs. She submitted her reports well before the deadlines, left the office earlier than usual – a rarity for her, as she was typically one of the last agents to leave. Hotch even noticed her falling silent whenever he entered the break room or the bullpen, and she seemed to find excuses to distance herself from him. This avoidance was starting to irritate him more and more. He missed the late nights spent doing paperwork together in his office after everyone else had gone home. He longed to hear her laughter and engage in conversations with her. He just missed her. While she appeared to be getting along fine with the rest of the team, her anger toward Hotch still lingered. He knew he needed to talk to her and explain his actions; he hoped that she might understand once he did.

So, as soon as he arrived at the office the following day, he made it a priority. Upon entering his office, he noticed Y/N's completed report on his desk, finished once again before deadline. He was aware that she was completing her work ahead of time to avoid any interaction with Hotch about the report. Without even glancing at the report, he stepped back out of his office.

"Agent Y/L/N, a word, please," he said, his tone possibly more agitated than he had intended. The rest of the team exchanged questioning looks as Y/N ascended the few stairs to his office. She knocked on the door, even though it was already open, and announced herself before entering.

"Close the door," Hotch ordered, his voice firm as he removed his jacket.

He had initially only wanted to apologize and explain his decision on the case, but seeing that finished report again ignited a kind of anger within him. Particularly because he knew how much she despised working on it in the first place. Now, she stood in front of him, alone for the first time in days, yet she didn't even glance at his face.

"You finished your work early again, Agent Y/L/N?"

"Yes, sir." Sir... she never called him 'sir.' He really wanted to hear his name from her. He tried to catch her eyes, but she purposely looked away. There was a brief silence before she finally spoke up, "Is there something wrong with it, sir?"

His emotions were getting the better of him due to her distant tone, possibly amplified by the frustration that had built up over the past few days. So, he responded with unnecessary sharpness.

"Yeah, there's something wrong with it. Do it again," he snapped, tossing the file onto the desk closer to her. For the first time in days, she met his eyes, her brows furrowed in irritation, though her voice remained calm.

"May I ask what was wrong with it, sir?" she inquired, striving to sound neutral.

"You may not, Agent! Get back to your work," he replied, his voice unintentionally louder than he intended.

Y/N stormed out of the room, doing her best to restrain herself from slamming the door behind her. She settled back at her desk, aware of her colleagues' watchful eyes on her, though no one said a word. In his office, Hotch couldn't help but curse under his breath. "Why did I do that?" he wondered. This kind of pettiness was uncharacteristic of him, yet there was something about her that could evoke such strong emotions from him, both positive and negative.

He struggled throughout the remaining day to focus on his work, his mind repeatedly drifting to thoughts of her. Glancing at the clock, he realized that the workday was drawing to a close. He had planned to talk to her today, and he was determined to do it before she left, especially since she tended to head out before the others. Stepping out of his office and peering down into the bullpen, he noticed Spencer packing up while Y/N and Emily waited. Derek and Penelope were already on their way to the elevator, and Rossi had left hours ago due to personal matters.

"Y/L/N, to my office, please," he called out in his strong voice from the top of the stairs before returning back into his office. Spencer and Emily exchanged glances, and while Y/N was clearly displeased, it was inevitable that she had to have a conversation with Hotch.

"You guys go ahead. Don't wait for me. I'll see you tomorrow," she said, placing her bag back on her desk before making her way up to Hotch's office.

"Sit down," Hotch says as she enters his office, gesturing to the free chair in front of his desk.

"For how much longer do you plan to keep this up?" Hotch asks in a plain tone.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir."

Hotch rubs his face and lets out a sigh before continuing. "Cut it out! This whole 'sir' thing. You haven't spoken to me in days. It's affecting the work environment."

"I don't think it's affecting anything. I've been working efficiently, and my reports are always on time."

"I don't give a damn about your reports, Y/N!" Hotch exclaims, standing up and slamming his hands on the table as he leans toward her.

She stands abruptly. "Then there's no reason for me to be here if this isn't work-related," she nearly yells, matching Hotch's intensity. She starts to turn around, indicating her intention to leave.

"You're not leaving before we talk about what happened and clear this up!", he said and walked around his desk to now stand infront of her.

"There's nothing to clear up!"

"How is there nothing to clear up? You've been avoiding me since we got back from the case. You won't talk to me, you won't look at me—hell, you leave the room when I walk in."

Hotch's frustration was palpable as he stepped closer to her. "You think you can just avoid me and everything will be fine? You think you can act like nothing happened?"

Y/N's voice trembled with anger. "I'm doing my job, just like I always have."

"Your job? This is more than just about your damn job. We're a team, and that means communication and trust."

Y/N shot back, her voice rising. "Trust? Is that what you call it? You completely shut me out during the case. You made me feel like I can't make decisions, like I'm incapable."

Hotch's eyes blazed with frustration. "I made a decision to protect you, to keep you safe!"

"By treating me like a child? By belittling me in front of the team?" Y/N's cheeks were flushed, her anger evident.

"You were reckless, Y/N! You put yourself and Spencer in danger!"

"I had a lead, I had a chance to save that girl!"

"By charging into a potentially dangerous situation without backup? You're lucky nothing worse happened."

Y/N's fists clenched at her sides. "You don't understand. You never understand."

"Oh, I understand more than you realize," Hotch retorted, his voice dripping with frustration.

The room seemed to crackle with tension as their argument escalated. Each word was a jab, a release of the pent-up emotions they had been harboring. The distance between them had grown from physical to emotional, and they were both struggling to bridge the gap.

Suddenly, a knock echoed through the room, and JJ's head appeared in the doorway. "Oh, sorry for disturbing. I just wanted to say goodbye before I leave. Don't let me interrupt," she said, sensing the tension in the room, and then closed the door behind her. Throughout JJ's brief interaction, Y/N and Hotch's eyes remained locked on each other.

JJ's interruption seemed to inject a moment of calm into the charged atmosphere, allowing a slight easing of the tension in the room.

Hotch's voice broke the silence once again, this time with a calmer and more composed tone. "Believe me, I understand why this case held such significance for you. The entire team recognised that. However, that doesn't justify putting yourself in harm's way."

Y/N's voice softened, her frustration mingling with a touch of vulnerability. "I know it was reckless to charge in without waiting, and I've already apologized for that—I'm still sorry. But what you did was unfair. You left me behind. Aren't we supposed to be a team? How could you make that decision, Hotch?" Her eyes misted over, a mixture of hurt and confusion in her gaze.

Hotch's gaze softened as he heard the hurt in her voice. He took a step closer, closing the physical distance between them, and rested his hands on his hips. "Y/N, it's not about whether you apologized or not. It's about the fact that you charged into a dangerous situation without considering the consequences. In this line of work, we can't afford to act on emotions alone. We have to think logically, strategically. Acting solely on emotion can get people killed."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears as his words sank in. She looked down at her hands, her voice choked with emotion. "I know that, Hotch. I do. But in that moment, all I could think about was finding that girl, saving her. It was like... I couldn't control myself."

Hotch took another step forward, his presence a comforting presence in front of her. He reached out and gently lifted her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his. His touch was tender, his thumb caressing her cheek. "Y/N, I get it. I do. But I was scared. Scared of losing you, of seeing you hurt. I couldn't bear the thought of something happening to you."

She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks. His touch was a lifeline, grounding her in this vulnerable moment. "I... I couldn't save my sister," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I was supposed to be watching her, and I let her down."

Hotch's grip on her chin tightened ever so slightly, his eyes locking onto hers. He leaned in closer, his voice tender. "Y/N, what happened to your sister wasn't your fault. You were just a child yourself. You couldn't have known."

A sob escaped Y/N's lips as she leaned into his touch, her tears falling freely now. Hotch gently wiped away her tears with his thumb, his touch soothing. "It's okay to feel the pain, Y/N. But you can't let it dictate your actions now. You have so much strength, so much potential. I just want to keep you safe."

She let out a shaky breath, her emotions raw and exposed. Hotch's presence and his words were a balm to her wounded heart. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice filled with remorse.

Hotch shook his head softly, his eyes never leaving hers. "There's no need to apologize. I should have handled things differently too. We both made mistakes."

They stood there for a moment, their gazes locked, and the air around them seemed to shift. Hotch took a step forward, his hand moving from her chin to her cheek, his touch gentle and caring.

"Y/N, we're a team. And I promise you, I'll always have your back. But I need you to promise me that you'll think before you act, that you'll prioritize your safety."

She nodded, her tears slowing as a small smile tugged at her lips. "I promise."

And in that moment, with their bodies close and their gazes intertwined, they found a connection that went beyond words—a connection forged in vulnerability, understanding, and the unspoken bond of a team that had weathered the storm together.

Y/N closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around Hotch in a tight embrace. Her face is buried in his chest, and he holds her close, his hand caressing her hair with utmost tenderness. In this vulnerable embrace, their walls begin to crumble, and the weight of unspoken emotions hangs heavily in the air.

Hotch's voice is barely above a whisper as he presses his lips to her ear, letting all the truths he had been holding back spill forth. "I was so scared, Y/N... scared to lose you. I can't bear the thought of ever losing you. Please, don't ever put yourself in that kind of danger again."

His words are a mixture of desperation and genuine concern, a heartfelt confession that had been weighing on him for far too long. He holds her tighter, his grip on her waist firm yet gentle. "I don't know what I would do without you. You've become such an important part of my life."

His voice quivers with emotion, each word carrying the weight of his feelings. "I missed talking to you, missed hearing your laugh. Even the complaints about paperwork, I missed those too. You mean so much to me, Y/N, more than you might realize."

Y/N's grip on him tightens, her tears soaking into his shirt as she listens to his heartfelt words. It's a moment of vulnerability, of raw honesty that they had both been avoiding. Hotch's whispers in her ear are like a soothing melody, erasing the tension that had been building between them.

Their embrace lingers, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that ties them together. Hotch continues to caress her hair, his touch a silent reassurance of his feelings. In this moment, surrounded by their shared emotions and the warmth of their connection, they find solace in each other's arms.

Y/N pulls away slightly, creating enough space to look up at him, her eyes glistening with sincerity. She takes a deep breath before speaking, her voice a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Hotch, Aaron... I became so upset about this situation because it was you who was disappointed in me. You mean the world to me. Your opinion, your feelings, they matter more than I can even express. Not just as my boss, but as a friend and... and maybe, just maybe, even more."

Her cheeks flush with a soft hue of pink as she admits her feelings, her gaze dropping to the floor as if overwhelmed by the weight of her confession. She's both relieved and terrified to have finally voiced her emotions, unsure of how he'll react despite his previous words of comfort.

Hotch's breath catches in his throat as he absorbs her words. His heart races, and a mixture of surprise, hope, and affection blooms in his chest. He reaches out to gently lift her chin, his thumb brushing against her skin as he tilts her face up to meet his gaze. His expression is a mixture of tenderness and warmth, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

"Y/N..." Hotch's voice is soft, carrying a mix of emotions that mirror her own. He searches her eyes, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone, his touch both soothing and electrifying. "I've been struggling with my own feelings, with the fear of crossing a line. But I want you to know... you're important to me too. More than I can put into words."

A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his lips, his gaze locked onto hers. "I never wanted to push you away or make you feel like your actions don't matter. They do, because you matter. And I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."

Y/N's heart swells with his words, and the warmth of his touch resonates deep within her. Her eyes well up with tears, but this time they're tears of relief and joy. Her lips tremble into a soft smile as she meets his gaze with renewed hope.

"I'm glad we talked," she whispers, her voice filled with sincerity. "I don't want to avoid you, Aaron. I want us to be honest with each other, no matter what happens."

Hotch's thumb continues to caress her cheek, his touch grounding her in this moment of emotional intimacy. "I feel the same way," he admits, his voice a mere breath against her lips. "And I promise, from now on, we'll face things together."

Their proximity becomes charged with a newfound understanding, their unspoken connection now verbalized. And as they stand there, gazing into each other's eyes, they both know that this conversation is just the beginning of a deeper and more meaningful journey ahead.

As the weight of their emotions lingers in the air, Y/N takes a small step closer, her heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. Hotch's gaze softens even further, and in that moment, they both feel the pull of an unspoken desire.

Without any more hesitation, Y/N tilts her head slightly, her lips brushing against his in a tentative yet gentle kiss. It's a kiss filled with the tenderness of their shared feelings, a silent promise of everything they've both been longing for.

Hotch's arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss with a mixture of longing and affection. His lips move against hers with a slow and deliberate rhythm, their connection intensifying as their bodies press against each other.

The air between them grows warmer, their shared emotions igniting a spark of passion. Y/N's fingers thread through his hair, holding him close as the kiss becomes more heated, a reflection of the desires they've kept hidden for so long.

Their breath mingles, the world around them fading as they lose themselves in the intoxicating sensation of their lips moving together. The kiss becomes a dance of emotions, each movement a declaration of their feelings.

Finally, they break apart, their lips still lingering just millimeters away. Their breaths come in ragged gasps, their eyes locked in a heated gaze filled with a mixture of surprise and bliss.

A soft, love-drunk smile tugs at Y/N's lips, and she brushes her thumb against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch. Hotch's fingers continue to caress her back, his touch a silent affirmation of his feelings.

"Wow," Y/N breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart still racing from the intensity of their kiss.

Hotch chuckles softly, his forehead resting against hers. "Yeah, wow," he replies, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and contentment.

Their smiles mirror each other's, and in that moment, they both realize that this is just the beginning of their journey together. The walls that once kept their feelings hidden have crumbled, replaced by a newfound connection that's deeper and more meaningful.

As they stand there, breathless and gazing into each other's eyes, they know that they're embarking on a path of honesty, vulnerability, and love. And with their lips still tingling from their kiss, they share a quiet understanding that whatever challenges lie ahead, they'll face them together.

[kivino]

LOST AND FOUND || ZOMBIE AU || PLATONIC PARENTAL FIGURE!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X CHILD!READER

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ao3 link to this fic

Word Counter – ~5.6k words

Tags/Warnings – Reader is 11-13 years old, Simon is their parental figure, and their relationship is purely platonic. Mentions of family dynamics, blood, gore, guns present; gender-neutral Reader,as per usual with my works.

Summary – You both were lost in this new world, but at least you had each other to lean on.

a/n – so uh. it’s been a minute! this is a fic i’ve been trying to finish since november of 2023, so that’s nice, lmao. i hope you guys like it! please, tell me what you think about it in the comments and enjoy the reading!

“Kid. Hey. Wake up.” You ignore the quiet mumble in your ears that interrupts your precious sleep and only mutter something unintelligible, rolling over on your side, trying to get away from the voice. “Come on, rise and shine.” You hum in protest, pulling the sleeping bag over your head and basking in its leftover warmth, that slowly slipped away into the breezy morning air. If you saw Simon right now you’d witness him rolling his eyes, despite the rapidly growing smile under his mask.

The winter was coming closer and closer each day, so obviously you preferred the company of that old sleeping bag and moth-eaten blanket stuffed inside of it to whatever outdoorsy activities were waiting for you when you had to pack up and go on your way to next place Simon had in mind. He kept pestering you about having to go south. South, south and south, that was your only direction. But you suppose it wouldn’t get any warmer if you went north, so maybe he was right. You’re not going to tell him that though. He’ll be too full of himself if you do.

“Hey there, come on. We don’t have all day.” He waits a few minutes before saying that and shaking your shoulder carefully. Still, you hear some impatience in his tone. You wouldn’t have been able to tell if you didn’t know him as well as you do now. You don’t really have any control over your body, so you try to swat his hand away, the repetitive motion just annoying you further, but then you realize you’re still stuck in that sleeping bag, and that motion only yanks you over on your other side. Damn, you hated mornings.

Simon only scoffs at this unsuccessful attempt to get rid of him. Quiet and breathy, but you hear it. His laugh is always breathy.

“Get up. I won’t carry you.” Oh, you know he will if you ask him. Nicely. Several times. He pats your shoulder and you open one eye, looking up at him, all angry and annoyed. Just like you are every other morning. You like sleeping, what can you say?

You can barely see anything besides the glint of his eyes in the cold, blueish darkness, his figure towering over yours even despite him sitting down near you. You didn’t need to see him right in front of your eyes to remember each detail of his appearance etched into your mind permanently at this point. Dark brown eyes that looked similar in color to the fresh, crumbly soil in the forest, dirty blond hair that would get too long too fast, so he’d ask you to chop it off as best as you could, and if you were to get right into his face you’d notice a line of freckles right where this eyesore of a balaclava exposes his skin.

“Do we need to get up at the ass crack of dawn each time?” you grumble, wiggling your arm out of the sleeping bag and unzipping this insulated monstrosity that made you look like an overfed caterpillar, covered in some stains that came from who knows where.

“Language.” Simon reprimands (and you can already picture his gloomy frown) while packing up your and his stuff into a giant duffel bag, with his voice sounding similar to a growl of a stray, old dog. He always reminded you of those little guys for some reason. Sad that you don’t see many of those anymore. Probably because they got eaten by those ugly undead. You try to shake off the unpleasant thought.

“Ass is not a bad word.” you return, as you roll out of the sleeping bag and start putting on the heavy worn boots over two pairs of socks that felt a bit damp to the touch. “Besides, you constantly swear, why can’t I do it too?” You were genuinely curious – it felt a bit unfair after all, that he would place some responsibilities on you, but then turn around and still treat you like a kid…which, you definitely hadn’t completely felt like one in a long, long time.

“What’s the first rule?” He asks without actually turning to you, choosing instead to start shoving bottles of water into the bag. You roll your eyes at this but comply.

“Whatever you say goes.” You grumble, while tying your shoelaces, that already started fraying on the ends…you’ll need to cut them, or just use Simon’s lighter if there is any gas left in that ancient thing. You’ll totally forget to ask him, that’s for damn sure.

“Whatever I say goes, that’s right.” He repeats with you, like it would help hammer down the thought into your mind better. Honestly, you’d rather take his sledgehammer to the head rather than go on an extensive trek through misty, damp fields with air that burned your lungs from how cold it was. “Second – once you’re grown up then you’ll say those words. Now you’re just a kid, so you can act like it. I’ll take care of all the adult stuff, which includes swearing.” Simon’s voice is so parental you could almost roll your eyes again. He’s not usually as serious, opting for light-hearted teasing instead so you guess…something might be bothering him. And if it’s true, you’d have to probably torture it out of him to find out.

Because Simon was a big-big, awfully quiet liar. He never talked much about his feelings, preferring to stay silent and listen to your constant blabbering while you two were on the road. You had to pester him for hours just to find out his surname, or what he used to do before the world went downhill. Which, you were pretty sure he lied about. Do mechanics get taught how to use knives that well? You didn’t know, but you were sure that the answer would be “no”. Simon was so secretive and quiet when he found you, barely speaking, at the time his voice reminded you of the way the school bus engine roared when a gray-haired driver drove away from your house.

You missed your old life. You wanted it back.

Slowly but surely you got used to Simon, though. He wasn’t this huge shadow, that silently followed everywhere behind you and regularly gave you heebie-jeebies anymore. Now he was a reassuring huge hand on your forearm. Or a gentle pat on the head. Like a blanket that you’d wake up in after you fell asleep while rereading the same book with your flashlight on. He said that he’d look after you until you find your parents. But you weren’t dumb, you knew that most likely, you’re never meeting them. With endless amounts of those undead things you saw, chances of them surviving seemed pretty slim. You tried not to think about it too often, because tears would inevitably start prickling at your eyes, and your nose would become runny in a blink of an eye. You wanted to bawl and cry, and scream, but then you’d remember Simon’s words.

“Don’t be loud or you’ll attract more of them”

And there was nothing more stupid than dying when you just needed a good eye-burning cry. So, you bottled it up. Of course, Simon would ask you about your parents. So many times, he would try poking and prodding as delicately as he could, and you could only visualize his attempts at subtly approaching your feelings as a polar bear trying out lace-making or embroidery. You didn’t blame him though, it felt like he was coming from a good and genuine place when he asked you all of those questions. Where did you like to go on the weekends? What did your parents do for work? What did your mom usually make for dinner? What did your dad teach you?

Then his voice would become quieter and softer, as he cradled you in his arms, warm as a damn furnace, hands gently rubbing your back as you broke down into small pieces at the memory of your parents. Your heart was tearing apart, and it hurt so bad, and it just wouldn’t stop, tears flowing like a river down your face, as you tried wiping them until your cheeks were raw. Simon would apologize profusely for bringing up your parents and making you sob your eyes out, reassuring you with an easy lie.

“We’ll find them, honey. I’m sure they’re waiting for you.”

You knew you would never find them. But for some reason, it still brought you comfort. They were waiting for you somewhere out there, didn’t matter if it was on this earth, or someplace else. So, your fingers would dig into the thick leather of Simon’s jacket, clinging closer for comfort, as your tears and snot soaked his sweater. Your parents weren’t for you here right now, but Simon was. He’d wipe off the tears off your skin, a lot more gently than you could ever do it. He’d tuck you into all the blankets you two had after you managed to calm down at least a little bit, violent shaky sobs turning into soft sighs. Simon would swipe the hair away from your face, and offer you some water to rehydrate after you cried your eyes out.

“You’re alright, kid. You’re okay. I’m here.”

And things didn’t seem so bad after you heard Simon say it. You didn’t know why he just picked you up like a lost puppy when he found you. You would’ve surely been dead by now if he didn’t, and you were thankful for whatever influenced his poor decision-making. You heard the way occasional groups you came across talked to Simon about having you with him, maybe they thought that your age also made you completely deaf and utterly stupid. And the only thing you wanted those idiots who thought you couldn’t hear them to do is get fu-

“Ready to head out, kid?” Simon shakes your shoulder snapping you out of your thoughts, with your backpack lying near your feet, instead of hanging on your shoulder. “Almost” You nod, as you pick up the bag and continue shoving your sleeping bag inside. “Hurry up, or I’ll leave without you.” Simon grunts, putting on this annoyed and grumpy front. “You wouldn’t.” You chuckle in response, finally zipping up your backpack and carelessly throwing it over your shoulders. You were sure Simon would never leave you. He wasn’t like that and you knew it.

“Careful, this is a hunting rifle, so if you hold it wrong the kickback can bruise you. Not like a handgun.” Simon corrects your stance, making sure you’re doing it just the way he’s been taught. Years ago, memories so hazy, he can barely recall that world. Almost feels like a dream, with how cloudy and unreal it looks in his mind. “Good. Now, open your mouth. Like this, alright.” Riley puts a hand with a worn glove on your lower jaw, pulling it down gently, until you feel the bones click in place. “We don’t want you walking around all woozy with ringing in your ears, right?” You nod, determined and concentrated, eyes directed at the makeshift shooting range in front of you. Simon’s palms cup your ears for added protection.

The sleepy glow of the sun played in the bottles put around the ruins of a burnt-down cabin, which stuck out of the ground like sharp scorched bones. There were also planks, big branches and other trash Simon carefully set to imitate the training ground for you. A kid’s gotta learn how to hold their own, so he put as much creativity as he could to make this hellscape into something decent. Breaking down some of the crumbling walls that turned into straight charcoal with his trusted sledgehammer, which rang like church bells each time he put it to use, covering “the shadows” burned into the floor before you spot them with your sharp eyes, and digging around for anything that can be the target for you. Anything so you can at least defend yourself when he’s…not around. For whatever reasons, that were most likely connected to getting mauled by a crowd of undead.

He keeps thinking about it. Simon can’t escape these thoughts.

That sooner or later he won’t be there to protect you. To laugh with you. To heat up your food and flick your nose for your dumb jokes, wrap you up in a blanket and give you a boost so you could climb the fence with ease. The more death and ruin brought by endless waves of undead you both see, the more it haunts him, like bloodhounds following his trail all over the country, sniffing out every single footstep and campground. And he’s sure it’s dragging behind your thoughts too, affecting the way you see world.

Simon won’t be there to see how you turn out. He knew it, felt it in his bones even. But that was the price he’d pay for deciding to raise you. Like a contract Riley signed with his own hand the say he saw you with your eyes swollen from crying. Simon won’t be there to see how all this bloodshed influences you, if it’ll break you like a fragile, ceramic vase, or temper, like good, reliable steel. He had hoped that this harsh world would make the latter out of you, but he wouldn’t blame you if you were to just…give up. It wasn’t easy out there. Especially if you’d end up alone.

Simon kept thinking about all of those endless groups that you two have been through on your way south. How inevitably, when you two would settle in a for a little while he’d have folk coming up to him for a talk. How he’d see those pitiful, sad looks in their eyes for him - a single father raising a kid in a world that has gone to shit eons ago. How someone’s hand would rest on his shoulder, fruitlessly trying to reassure him, meanwhile hiding even more heart-crushing sadness in the pair of dull, lifeless eyes.

And what he hears is a variety of voices, along with an array of faces that didn’t match any names he could recall. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to make them follow you?” whispers a woman with tight curls and a scar across her cheek.  “They’re just a kid, and you drag them around with you?” accuses an older missus with a knitted scarf. “It must be rough out there” mumbles an older gentleman with a rasp that suggested he enjoyed the company of tobacco more than the company of people back in the day. “You won’t be able to defend them if you continue on like this” sighs a man with deep canyons of wrinkles racking through his greyish skin. Quiet and heartbroken. Speaking from his own experience. A father. And Simon believed that voice.

And that trust is what caused him so much doubt now, when there was no turning back on caring for you. He knew it will end badly. For either or both of you. But Simon would never hand you over to anyone, unless it was your wish to leave him. You were his blood now. His kid. That would never change, in a thousand of years.

BANG. Simon’s ears start ringing, one of his palms now rests on your shoulder as he points towards one of the bottles and squints his eyes to see better in the distance.

“Good job. See? You shot the neck off.” His gloved finger points at the accurately shot bottle and pride swells in his chest. Simon hopes you turn out to be a good shot. You’ll need that.

Almost the whole day passed with the two of you on the road, shuffling through the dead leaves, varying in the hues of brown and grey, yet it still felt like Simon was drowning in his own thoughts like some damn quicksand. And the more he tried to distract himself with some mundane, routine questions of where to find food, shelter, and water he just kept circling back to those doubts, sinking down, deeper into the unwelcoming depth and the unknown.

Even now, when you two finally stopped for the night, tent already set up near the neat, small fire that you managed to make thanks to instructions Simon gave you ages ago, he just sat there, silent. Head heavy with worry, eyelids burning from observing the fire too close, it didn’t matter anymore. Simon was sure his figure was that of an undead right now – round-shouldered and tired. One more similarity between him and those…creatures. Simon was sure that if he wasn’t on leave when all of this shit went down, he would’ve been one of the first people to go. And he didn’t like the quiet, nagging thought that he would’ve preferred that.

That thought dissipates into the thin air the moment he slightly turns his head and sees you in your blanket pulled up to your ears, eyes owlishly staring into the darkness, where you could hear cricket’s song and shuffles of small rodents in the short, dry grass and layers of leaves. If he wasn’t alive you probably wouldn’t have been either. Weird stinging in his chest became even more intense when he looked at you. Life has a weird sense of humor.

Simon wanted to avoid being a father or a parental figure for as long as he could, preferably for his whole life. Being made into a killing machine, a mindless weapon to get rid of the enemy by any means wouldn’t make for a great father material, he figured. He also lacked the necessary emotional vulnerability to meet anyone who’d want to bear his child and stay with him. So, he never tried. Not that he thought he was missing out on something – he felt alright as he was, plus who wanted the responsibility that came with raising another human being? It was never as easy as just keeping a pet or a potted plant, if you fuck up it would take you years to find that out. Possibly through your own blood and flesh going no contact on you and deciding not to reconcile ever.

And despite how much Simon hated the thought, he was his father’s son. It would be too arrogant to assume he’ll be a good parent, if his own fucked him up so much. Simon heard all of these things about “ending the circle of abuse” but he would rather end himself if he ever remotely resembled the monster that was responsible for bringing him into this world.

But for that poor kid, eyes wide from terror, hands hugging their own body, trembling and terrified when he had found them a little less than a year ago, he was willing to try, even if it cost him his life.

“Something’s wrong with you.” He hears your quiet, but confident remark. Your eyes glimmer in the light of the fire, focused and attentive. For a moment it felt like there was no escape from your gaze and many questions hiding behind it.

“You don’t have to worry about me, kid.” Simon waves his palm, almost dismissively, but he doesn’t mean any harm. You have enough on your plate already, being a kid during the end of the world. There is no point for you to trouble yourself with his fears and doubts.

“That’s what you always say. Yet you keep making that face when you think I can’t see you” Instinctively, man’s hand reached out to touch his jaw, and when his fingers could only feel the rough, dirty fabric, a slight sigh of relief was torn out of his lips. Though right now, one would think it was his way to express annoyance. It wasn’t quite the case though.

“But you can’t see it.” Simon says with a lighthearted rise in his voice.

“Well, I see the eyes. What are you thinking about?” Stubborn as always. Well, if you were so curious then he has to tell you at least something, right? Been a long time since the two of you had a heart to heart talk with each other. Still, there was a reluctance deep in Simon’s heart. It was unfair that you had to grow up like this. Among walking corpses and ravaging beasts instead of people surrounding you around every corner.

“About how I want you to be able to protect yourself. That good enough answer?” Simon quietly barks, not intending to sound strict, but failing at it miserably. “Now go to sleep. We’re rising early tomorrow” Simon cuts the conversation short rather bluntly, not fond of the idea of sharing more than necessary.

He doesn’t want to tell you about all those nightmares where you scream in agony, torn apart by the undead, innards spilling onto the cold floor, teary eyes looking at him and begging for help, reaching for him, dirty fingers with blood under your nails looking to claw at something to relieve you of at least a sliver of the immense pain shooting through you.

“You’re an ass” You give a firm verdict, turning around and crawling towards the tent, seemingly ready to finally reunite with your sleeping bag and doze off. Your blanket drags behind you over the ground, until Simon quickly reaches out and carefully drapes it over your shoulders again.

“Well, the company you keep.” The man barely contains the laughter at the offended expression you give him after turning your neck so fast that Simon can almost hear your vertebrae cracking from such sudden movement.

“Hey!”

“And what did I tell you about swearing?” Riley immediately reminds you, raising his eyebrow, and you could swear that if you gave him a moment, he’d cross his arms over his chest like suburban soccer mom with a bad bob. Maybe he’ll call a manager after that…

“Sorry.” You mumble to the side, before disappearing in the tent and only hearing a low gruff in response:

“Much better.”

“Now, remember what I told you? In and out, quick and quiet. Whatever there is, don’t pick a fight.” He told you before going in to look for supplies in that hospital. Before the two of you climbed the fence (somehow still mostly intact after almost a year of it not being used and upkept like you would a normal hospital), then crawling up the rusty and unsteady fire escape, which Riley helped you climb, naturally.

Simon wasn’t a fool, not by any extension of the word. He also did not consider himself reckless, at least not to the point of endangering others with his recklessness. He knew that the hospital would be the prime place for a horde of walkers, but the rapidly dwindling supplies (along with your cough and stuffy nose that were getting worse by the day; it was a mystery to him, how you were not yet feverish) and the dangers the not well-scouted area for you were too much. So, he decided it’s better if you keep close to him.

He should’ve taken more time, should’ve been more careful, should’ve investigated the building beforehand, like he always does. Simon thought it would be okay. He knew the kid could handle dozens upon dozens of corpses littering the floor, turning to dust in patient rooms and locked up in medical staff rooms; for so many months they’ve seen only death and decay around. Riley knew that the (most likely) overflowing morgue would be off-limits, not only because of undead activity, but also because of the toxic (once again, most likely) expired chemicals there.

Simon could’ve made it another teaching moment for you, sharing telltale signs of undead presence, besides the smells and the sounds that can be concealed by weather. The undead always leave traces, whether their dulled (or absent) conscience is aware of it or not.

Simon could’ve done so much to prevent this. But he just didn’t. His worst fucking nightmare turned reality in a matter of seconds and he could not do shit about it.

He barely heard anything while rummaging through the supply cabinets in the room right behind what probably once was a nurse station. Which was weird. He always heard everything. He had left you to keep guard near the entrance to the room, because as much as Riley trusted you, it was probably safe to assume that he knew what kind of drugs to take better than a prepubescent teen. Next thing he knew when he looked outside of the door – the undead flooded the corridor and you were nowhere to be seen. His heart dropped, nothing but concern and pure terror in his mind.  A sudden ringing in his ears deafened him for a moment.

You could be dead for all he knew. Torn apart by the undead, begging for your life, bloody and crying, or with your neck broken, from the attempt to escape from one of the windows that was not boarded up, or bitten and left to the terrors of this sickness that will eat you alive in no time. Replacing his poor kid you with a decaying husk, bearing your eyes and your face. It would be extremely dangerous and foolish to attempt looking for you. Downright idiotic.

Good thing his father always called him an idiot, because he won’t leave without finding you. Alive or…otherwise.

Simon had to time to plan everything out, every second contributed to whether you’re walking out of here, or being carried out the building by him. He swung the door open, ready to take the fight head-on.

The smell of the hospital alone was enough to make his eyes tear up. You nor him could ever get used to it, no matter how often you stumbled upon that smell – rotting, nauseatingly sweet, fleshy and suffocating. It was even worse when the undead who emanated this stench stumbled through the corridor towards him. The mask was not helping much.

Riley could not help that primal irrational part of his mind from taking over, it was hard not to, when someone you cherish so deeply is possibly in grave danger. Almost every movement was precise and short, nothing but pure instincts, reflexes and muscle memory taking the ownership of his mind.

He was on the battlefield once again.

Fast jab, swing, push, step, crush, dash, push, swing, crush, jab, shove, swing, crush; it all flowed into one monotonous dance macabre, low hum of something dark puppeteering Simon’s limbs. He could feel that familiar buzz of satisfaction in his head with every skull shattered either by his heavy boots or with the pleasantly heavy sledgehammer. Each kill bringing Simon closer to you, and you – closer to complete safety within these walls. He promised himself that he won’t have to do…all this anymore. But if it meant unceremoniously grabbing you from the embrace of death, he was willing to let himself loose a million times more, until his hands are stained by blood forevermore.

The worry and pure terror for you took over him completely, his heavy blows kept landing wherever there was even the slightest movements and he did not stop. Simon’s hands did not tremble even for a single second. Covered head to toe in guts and rotted, sticky blood, he was more beast than man, shoulders rising and falling, heavy breaths drawn through the several dirty layers of cloth on his face filling him even further with the urgency, with hurry and the continuous urge to maim and kill anything that threatened your and his possible survival.

Because what was Simon, if you, the only thing he carefully and lovingly put all his remaining humanity into, were not here anymore? It was all that would be left of him, if you…

Nevermind. Simon shouldn’t be thinking like that. But how can he not, when he’s been warned all these times that, given some time, one of you will die, protecting another? What else was he supposed to think when day and night the only thing he was worried about was if he was a good enough father to you, or if you would be better off under the care of anybody else, who’s just…not him?

The metal of Riley’s sledgehammer was filthy with brain matter, skin and hair, and his clothes heavy with blood soaking them through and through. He could not comprehend how he was not bitten yet. Line of decaying corpses kept trailing him like a wicked serpent through the stuffy corridors of the hospital.

Until finally Simon saw a familiar pair of eyes looking right at him through the filthy glass of a storage room.

You were terrified out of your mind, shaking and crying, not only because you thought you were going to be torn apart just mere moments ago. There were more possibilities – if it were not for the rotten, jagged teeth finding you, Simon would’ve found you and be furious at you for being a reckless idiot and almost getting yourself killed, running away like that in an unexplored area (even though he never screamed at you in all this time you spent together, and even if he did, that would only attract more undead). Or, worst case scenario, you’d just find Simon’s body somewhere in the hospital, being gnawed on by several undead, coppery, vile smell in the air. You knew that chances of you walking away without losing something were razor-thin.

Yet here he was. Some irrational part of you was convinced he’d yell at you, hit you, throw something at you putting the safety in no regard. You flinched, feeling you body shake against the cold floor. A second passed and the giant of a man swooped you into a bone-crushing embrace, shushing you and slowly rocking you in his arms. You felt more sobs bubble inside of your throat, when you hear him murmur reassurances into your ear.

“It’s alright, kid, I’m here. I’m right here.” His voice is coarse and rough, but so utterly familiar, you feel like you’re being wrapped in a warm blanket when dad Simon talks. To hell with being stubborn and independent. You don’t to leave him ever again.

“I’m so…so sorry, Simon” you managed to get out, violent sobs interrupting your words. “I didn’t, didn’t want to lead them to you…” Because that would entrap both of you with the undead that flooded the hallway much too quickly, his mind finished the thought that you were not able to articulate in your deep emotional distress. “I tried, I tried…”

Simon’s heart shattered.

He was silent for seconds that stretched akin to hours. Pressing your face into the soaked shoulder of his rough jacket that smelled like smoke and the undead, you had no idea that Simon’s eyes were glistening with tears as well. You felt his hand gently stroking your head, attempting to soothe you to the best of his abilities.

“Shhh, I know, I know. You did you best. You did good, kid. You did good.” The way dad Simon said it made the hot tears pour down from your eyes even stronger, like a sudden storm in the middle of a summer day.

 “I was so-, so- scared, I-I thought you were going to be so mad at me.” You whole body trembled with every shaky breath that you took and Simon did not fail to notice that, his arms closing around you even tighter, which you only welcomed, clinging onto him like he was your lifeline.

“Please, don’t be scared. Why would I be mad at you?” Riley’s voice is so painfully soft and quiet. He came for you. He could’ve left, but he came for you. It dawned on you, how easily you could’ve lost each other in these minutes spent apart, and your fingers clawed into the bloodied fabric even harder.

“I-I don’t know…”

For a split second, you thought you felt Simon’s giant stature shake around you with a barely audible noise that reminded you of a sob. Simon pulled away, his big palms still resting on your shoulders, grounding you, reminding that everything is alright and the both of you are alive.

“Dry your tears, kid. It’s going to be alright.” You could see the corners of his eyes crease in a smile, moisture still shining in them, and you could feel the tears burn your own eyes once again. You, however, tried your best to put on a brave face, not wanting him to see you cry even more than you already did. You reached with your hands to rub your eyes in exasperation. The man, instead, delicately started wiping off your tears with his blood-stained fingers, not even realizing that he was making things worse. But you didn’t care. Simon was here for you. That’s all that mattered in this moment.

Silence felt like it lasted forever until you opened your mouth and quietly asked for only one thing:

“Promise you won’t leave me. Ever.”

Good God, your voice sounded sad. Simon did not respond at first. He knew he couldn’t make promises like that, but the guilt and all these unbearable thoughts of losing you just moments ago got to his rationality, making it absolutely useless. If it meant you’d be willing to stay a kid a little while longer, he was ready to make a false promise he would never be able to fulfill.

“I promise, kid.”

Maybe someday you’ll lose each other to the horrors of this world, lurking beyond what any living soul can perceive. But it won’t be today.

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[illunicae]

What Could He Do? Should Have Been a Father But he never even made it to his twenties

The title is deceivingly sad, I promise this is just some pure father's day fluff that just happens to be set in the Kraang apocalypse timeline. (Ao3)

Pairing: Donnie x Reader

TWs: None really, though it does take place in the kraang apocalypse

Happy Father's Day to everyone celebrating.

You often imagined these days in a world where the sun wasn’t bleeding red. Where the green trees still stood proud against the winds and the air was crisp with summer breezes. You imagined taking your daughter to the park where she would sit on her father’s shoulders and point at every little thing that caught her attention.

The view outside your window may not be the most inspiring sight, but truthfully all you needed today was your family. With them, you could pretend everything was all right.

“Mamma! Mamma!” Your daughter comes racing around the corner of the hall. When she reaches you she goes quiet, “Is papa asleep now?” Lenore asks with a whisper.

You smile warmly and nod. It had been a bit of a chore, but with a little convincing and literal dragging, you managed to pull your stubborn husband out of his lab for some much needed rest. Donnie claimed he wasn’t tired, but the moment his head hit that pillow he was out like a light. “Yes, he’s asleep right now.”

“Perfect.” Lenore grins and gets a gleam in her eye that matches her father’s perfectly. You really should have known you’d have two mad scientists running around. 

“My light, what are you planning?” You ask. 

Lenore grins, her eyes shining as she grabs your hand and begins pulling you down the hall. She pulls you down a familiar stretch and into the lab as the doors open with a hiss. She pulls you through the lab to a back corner, her little tail wagging the whole time.

When she finally lets go of your hand she speaks. “I found something and I wanna give it to papa today, but I needed him out of the lab.” She explains as she kneels down and grabs a box out from under her desk, which is messy with blueprints and parts. The box is worn but on it you can see your daughter’s handwriting. Papa Keep Out!

“What did you find?” You ask softly and curious.

Lenore freezes for a moment before turning with a sheepish grin. Now you’re slightly concerned. “Please don’t be mad, Mamma.” She pauses a moment before taking a breath and spitting it out like a curse. “But I went into the city.” 

Your eyes went wide. “You what? You know that’s incredibly dangerous. When did you? Why?”

“Cj was with me, we were fine.” Lenore says. 

“You’re both only 10 years old!” You exclaim, “You can’t run off on your own. And you know you’re now supposed to go into the city.”

“But if I didn’t I wouldn’t have found this!” Lenore explains and opens the box. “I think it might have been papa’s from… the Before.”

Your heart leaps into your throat and you choke on a gasp when you look down and see what was in the box. A million thoughts raced through your head trying to make sense of what you were seeing. Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks as your throat runs dry. “Shelldon?” 

The name is a broken whisper on your tongue as you kneel down next to your daughter to get a better look at the drone in the box. One of his rotors is missing and he looks incomplete, but it is, without a doubt, Shelldon. You thought you’d never see him again. Donnie had been in the middle of rebuilding him when the Kraang attacked. They had lost a lot of stuff from the lair that day, including Shelldon.

You gently pull the little drone out of the box and glance to your daughter for an answer. 

“I found him under the city. We were exploring. We were just looking for old tech, I wanted to bring something back for papa. We found this old place that looked like it was half caved in. I found the drone under some rubble. It looked like something papa would make, so I brought it back. I’ve been fixing it. I wanna surprise him with it.” Lenore explains as she twists and plays with her fingers.

You laugh as some happy tears slip down your cheeks and you rub your thumb over the little drone head. Your smile is bright as you look up and pull your daughter into a hug. “Oh my little light, you are full of surprises.”

Together the two of you work to fix the rest of Shelldon before Donnie wakes up from his forced nap. While working you share a few stories with your daughter about the little drone. She’s particularly fond of the one where Shelldon ran away to join the Purple Dragons. The stories only work to build Lenore’s excitement and she works fast, both eager to meet Shelldon and surprise her father. 

“Moment of truth.” Lenore whispers as she closes up the battery port and makes sure everything is in the right place. She nods to you, and you tentatively reach out and press the little on button. Slowly you see the glowing red eye “blink” open. You can’t school the grin on your face as Shelldon wakes up and looks at you.

“(Y/n)?” 

“Hey Shelly.” You smile and pet his head softly. His rotors jump to life as he speeds off the desk, nearly sending you stumbling backward as you catch him against your chest. 

“Mom!” It’s a hug you never believed you'd feel again as you hug your robotic son. When he pulls away and hovers in the air before you, his head tilts. “You’ve gotten older. So much older.” 

You nod. “Yeah a lot’s happened Shelly.” You gesture for your daughter to join your side. She steps closer with a shy grin. “But first I’d like to introduce you to Lenore. My daughter…your younger sister.”

Lenore waves and Shelldon’s eyes brighten as he swoops down to be face to face. “Woah!” He waves his front rotor. “Hi! I’m Shelldon.” Lenore’s grin grows as she too says hi.

Shelldon and Lenore hit it off immediately. Lenore is fascinated with the little drone and Shelldon asks Lenore lots of questions. It does funny things to your heart watching your son and daughter interact. 

“My little light, I’m going to go get your father now, are you ready?” You ask. Lenore nods her head enthusiastically. Shelldon’s rotors whirl with excitement as well. “Okay, I’ll be right back.” You laugh and step out of the lab.

Your heart is racing with excitement as you quickly travel the halls leading back to your room. When you get there the door is opening up and a still half asleep looking Donnie is stumbling out, but for the most part he looks well rested. 

“When you coerced me to bed I was under the impression that you’d be joining me.” He mumbles when he sees you.

You chuckle and straighten his mask. “Sorry Dove, I was helping Lenore with something.” 

He perks up a little at that. “Oh? Pray tell what it is you two were working on.” 

Shaking your head, you grin up at your husband. “I’m afraid that is a surprise our little light has put together for you. So if you would follow me, I’d told her I would retrieve you.” 

Donnie raises an eyebrow as your offered arm and follows you through the halls. He picks up on the familiar path to the lab right away. “Ah. Is that why you wanted me out of the lab so badly?” He teases.

“It was a part of it maybe, but you really did need the rest.” You shrug. “Killing two birds with one stone.” Donnie hums as you reach out at tap a few times against the door of the lab. You can hear your daughter’s hushed voice whispering before she calls out for you to enter and the doors slide open.

Lenore is standing there in the middle of the lab, her hands slipped into the pockets of her overalls and her goggles resting atop her head. She truly looks like a carbon copy of your husband. Hovering by her side is Shelldon who looks five seconds from running Donnie over.

Donnie has frozen stiff by your side as he sets his gaze on Shelldon. You can practically see the thoughts turning in his head and the emotions swirling in his eyes. “Shelldon?” Like you, the name is barely a whisper on his lips. “How?”

“Dee!” Shelldon shouts and races forward. Also like you, Donnie’s arms automatically wrap around the small drone. 

“How?” Donnie asks louder.

Lenore steps up to answer. “I found him. I had a feeling he was yours from the Before. So I fixed him up the past few weeks.” She explains.

Donnie’s eyes are wide as he looks between Lenore and Shelldon. His gaze falls back to you and you just smile and nod. “This was all your daughter, I had no idea until a few hours earlier.”

His grip tightens on Shelldon. “Shelldon. Shelldon.” All Donnie could do is repeat the name like a mantra, like he can’t quite believe it’s real. 

“I missed you too Dad.” Shelldon says, resting his head on Donnie’s shoulder. The two stay in silence for a moment as Donnie takes it all in. You stand beside Lenore with your hand on her shoulder as she watches the interaction while her tail wags. 

“You did good, my light.” You whisper to her. 

“I like seeing him happy. I like seeing you both happy.” Lenore says as she turns to you. You smile and bring her into a hug. When you part, Donnie has also let go of Shelldon to inspect the work Lenore did, to which Shelldon shows off with pride. 

Donnie glances at Lenore, who stands there beside you fiddling with her hands. He takes a step toward her and kneels down to pull her into a tight hug. “Thank you.” 

“Happy Father’s day, papa.” Lenore responds as she hugs him back just as tightly. Both you and Shelldon are pulled into the hug as well and the four of you hold onto each other tightly. Your family is one hundred percent complete now: your son and daughter in your arms and your husband holding you close. Peace is a rare treat these years, and you’re determined to hold onto this moment for as long as you can. 

Maybe you do dream about the memories you’ll never have: walks in the park with your children, lazy days in, board game nights, walking your daughter to her first day of school. But those will just be dreams. Right here and now is all you need.

[slut4thebroken]

Russian Roulette

Pairing | Mitch Rapp x reader

Summary | Assassin!reader won’t talk. mitch knows just what to do to fix that Warnings | Sexual content, 18+, gun play, fear play, degradation, cnc (barely), breeding, face fucking, crying, edging, light praise, choking, brat taming, deep throating, Words | 8k Notes | Here it is folks! The long awaited russian roulette fic😌 I do plan to edit this again and republish it in the future but I’m happy with it for now. Enjoy!! (p.s. I’m more likely to post stuff that isn’t completely perfect in my eyes (even tho it’s literally still good lmao) if I have positive reinforcement😭 just an fyi if y’all want more💀) Ao3 link | <3 Masterlist

It was supposed to be a simple mission. One you’ve done hundreds of times by now.

Seduce the target, then kill the target.

Every mission, your boss gives you a name, picture, location, and time. That’s how you found yourself at a hotel bar, wearing a skimpy dress and strappy heels, waiting for Mitch Rapp.

You’re excited for this one. Usually the men are either old perverts or young, inexperienced, and cocky. But every once in a while there'd be a man who’d challenge you. A man who made the game exciting. And Mitch seems like that kind of man.

You sipped your drink and looked around the bar. Finally you saw him walk in. He went to the opposite side of the bar and ordered a drink. When he looked up, he caught your eyes. You didn’t look away and just gave him a small smile. His face was emotionless but you didn’t let that deter you. You leaned forward with your elbows on the bar, pushing your breasts together, and watched as his eyes followed the movement. When his drink was set in front of him, he grabbed it then started walking toward you, making you laugh internally. Men are so easy.

“Hi.” You said, setting your drink down after he sat next to you.

“Hi.” His voice definitely matches his face.

“I’m Evelyn.” You lied.

“Dylan.” He lied as well. Your targets were rarely smart enough to use a fake name, usually too focused on your tits and the promise of a good fuck instead.

“Do you live around here?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair around your finger.

“No. I’m here on business.” He took a sip of his drink and looked you up and down, this time spending more time on your legs.

“Oh me too. Well, business and then a little vacation time before I have to go back.” Which was another lie. You never stay anywhere right after a mission. “Although I do have time for some fun before I have to work.” You gave him a small smirk and crossed your legs, making your dress ride up your thigh.

“Oh yeah? How much time?”

“Probably a couple hours. My boss is flexible.” Lie. He hates when you’re late. But you’re horny and, target or not, there’s a hot man in front of you. He can wait a little longer than planned.

“What do you say, Dylan? Wanna keep me company for a few hours?” You set your hand on his thigh lightly. When you started sliding it up, he grabbed your wrist, his fingers completely encircling it. Probably to keep you from finding a concealed weapon.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He said lowly.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “C’mon, let’s have some fun.” You leaned your face closer to his and felt his grip on your wrist tighten.

“I promise I’ll be a good girl.” You whispered, breath fanning against his lips. His eyes roamed your face for a few seconds before suddenly using his grip to pull you from your seat, over to the elevator. You’re thankful your purse was already on your shoulder because you definitely wouldn’t have remembered to grab it… And you definitely need it to finish the mission. Not that you can’t kill someone without a gun, it’s just easier.

You entered the elevator and he pushed the button for his floor. When the doors closed he slammed your back against the wall and pressed his lips to yours, making you moan in surprise. His hands gripped your waist tightly and yours went to his hair. He kissed you passionately, his tongue fighting for dominance with yours. When he rolled his hips into you, you pulled back with a gasp. He was quick to move to your neck, pressing kisses and leaving hickeys along the sides. You moaned again and his hand snaked down your leg then up your dress on the outside of your thigh.

“Oh my god!”

You both pulled away quickly. An older lady stood outside the elevator with her mouth open in shock. You hadn’t even heard the elevator ding. Mitch checked the floor number then swiftly exited, pulling you behind him.

“Sorry.” You gave the lady a sheepish smile as you walked past her. You entered his room quickly and he slammed you against the wall again. When his lips met yours, you started trying to push his jacket off his shoulders. He obliged then pulled back to take his shirt off.

You were too horny to think about what the proper reply should be when someone has scars like this. Maybe that’s what gave you away.

He pulled your purse off your shoulder and threw it on the dresser next to you. You internally cringed when it landed with a really loud thump, seeing as your phone and gun are both in it.

He kissed you again and started sliding both of his hands up the outside of your thighs, this time making sure to pull your dress up. He placed his leg between yours and you stifled a moan. When he bit your lip, you gave in, starting to grind on his thigh. His hands reached your hips and he gripped them tightly, forcing you to continue rocking against him.

Mitch moved to your neck again, leaving more hickeys and occasionally biting the sensitive skin. He reached your collar bones and continued down your chest but pulled back when he reached your dress. He looked at you with dark eyes then placed his hand on your neck. You gasped and started rutting against him harder.

He leaned his head down next to yours, putting his mouth by your ear, then whispered, “Who are you?”

“W-what?” You didn’t register the question, still focusing on grinding against him. He leaned back to look at you and tightened his hand on your neck, making you release a choked moan.

“Who the fuck are you?” Your hips stuttered to a stop. Shit. They never figure it out until there’s a gun to their head. Maybe he means something else. “Who do you work for?” He said, harsher this time.

Okay so he definitely doesn’t mean something else. Fuck. He slammed your head against the wall and you winced.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about. Dylan, you’re scaring me.” You said quietly.

“Don’t fucking lie to me!” He growled. He tightened his grip, and even pushed on your windpipe, making you claw at his hand, trying to remove it.

“You’re hurting me.” You whimpered, feeling tears pool in your eyes from the lack of oxygen. “Dylan, please.” You gasped, letting the tears fall- all of it adding to your performance. His grip loosened and your chest heaved, trying to take in as much air as possible. Finally you caught your breath and then made your move- it’s too risky to stay in this position when you don’t know what he’s capable of.

You punched him in the nose and he stumbled back, clearly surprised. You ran the couple of steps to reach for your purse but were yanked back by your hair until you landed on the ground in front of him, his gun aimed at your head.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice harsher now.

There are three ways you can play this. Accept your fate, continue with the act and hope you fool him, or fight and finish the assignment. In reality, there was only one option because of your ego.

“Honestly I’m surprised you figured it out so soon. Most of them don’t until they’re already dead.” You smirked, looking up at him. “Although the few that do figure it out usually are smart enough to try and get their dick wet before doing anything.” His face remained emotionless and it only spurred you on.

“What gave me away?” You started taking off your heels, preparing for a fight or a quick escape. “C’mon Mitch,” You continued when he didn’t reply, “I gotta know how to improve for my next job.”

“Who are you?” You kept looking up at him and moved onto your knees, not giving him an answer. Suddenly, his gun hit your temple, the force making you fall onto your hip. You brought your hand up to feel the injury, no blood at least but it’ll definitely bruise.

“Fucking, dick! What was that for?”

“It’s going to get a whole lot worse for you if you don’t start answering my questions.”

“What are you gonna do? Shoot me?” He cocked the gun and held it closer to your head making you chuckle. “You won’t do that.”

“Why’s that?” He deadpanned.

“Because your dick’s still hard.” You whispered, placing a hand on his bulge, waiting for him to remove it. He looked you up and down and you could only imagine what you look like right now. Because based on what you can feel, your dress is dangerously low on your chest and high on your thighs, and not to mention the number of hickeys you probably have. He put his gun in the waistband of his pants behind him and you smirked triumphantly.

Mitch crouched in front of you and you tried to plan how you could grab either his gun off him or your own. One hand fisted your hair and roughly pulled your head back, making you gasp.

“I’m going to ask you again. And I’m going to keep asking and hurting you more and more until you finally tell me.”

“Who are you?” You kept your mouth shut and stared at him. He removed his hand from your hair to land a swift punch on your cheek before grabbing it again. The dull throbbing hurt like hell but you kept your poker face.

“Who do you work for?” When you didn’t answer, he punched you twice this time. You could taste the blood in your mouth and you debated spitting it in his face.

“You’re wasting your time. You might as well just kill me.” You wiped off some blood you felt dripping on the corner of your mouth. “I’ve been trained to endure every type of torture in the book.” He examined you again but this time you grew nervous under his gaze. Finally he hummed and stood up.

“You’re right. I’m going about this all wrong.”

“What?” You barely got the word out before he grabbed your hair again, lifting you off the floor and throwing you onto the bed. “What the hell are you doing??” You scrambled backwards to the head of the bed when he started moving toward you.

“Luckiky for you, I know a type of torture that’s not in the book. Take your dress off.”

“W- no!” He sighed and got on the bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you until you laid on your back. Mitch grabbed the hem of your dress and ripped it in half easily. You wanted to be angry with him so badly… but the horny part of your brain is outweighing any logic right now.

He pulled the shreds of fabric off your body until you were left in just underwear- foregoing a bra earlier because of the dress’s low back.

Mitch straddled your hips and placed a hand on your neck, leaning down so his nose brushed yours. You closed your eyes, waiting, but you only felt his breath fan against your lips as he chuckled.

“You’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now.” He rasped. His hand moved up to grip your cheeks, forcing your lips into a pout. “What do you say when I’m being so generous?”

Fuck you. Is what you wanted to say.

“Thank you…” You muttered, looking at the wall next to you. You assumed Mitch was satisfied because he released your face and sat up. He dragged his nails down your ribs and you hissed at the sting. Finally he reached your underwear.

“Such a fucking slut.” He mumbled under his breath and you bit your tongue. “No bra and this pathetic excuse for underwear? Baby, you’re just asking for it aren’t you?” He cooed. You wanted to beat the patronizing tone right out of him, but you couldn’t help the reaction you actually had. He smirked when he noticed you clenching your thighs together beneath him.

Mitch grabbed your underwear and ripped it in half, a lot easier than your dress. He removed the fabric and you started squirming under him. His hands held your hips still and his thumb brushed across your mound, teasing you. You bucked your hips and whined.

“Oh I’m sorry. Did you want something?” You glared at him and his smirk returned.

“You know, if you don’t know how to please a woman you can just say that. You don’t have to drag it out and stall.” His smirk immediately turned into a scowl and he raised his hand to hit you again but froze when he heard an unfamiliar phone go off. He got off you and you started to sit up but he grabbed his gun, pointing it at you.

“Stay.”

You rolled your eyes at the command. He grabbed your purse from the dresser and walked back over to the bed, gun still aimed at you.

“That’s my boss probably wondering where I am.” You said when the ringing stopped.

“I thought you said he’s flexible.”

“I lied.”

The ringing started again and he pulled the phone out of your purse. He looked at the unknown number then to you.

“You’re going to answer and you’re going to lie. Otherwise it’s a bullet in your head. Understand?” You nodded and he answered the phone, putting it on speaker.

“What’s taking so long?” He snapped.

“I’m just wrapping up. I’ll be in tomorrow instead of tonight… This guy was a lot more trained than you said.”

“You better not have slept with him again-“

“That literally happened one time and I still finished the assignment. How many more times are you going to bring it up?” You asked, very annoyed and wanting to get back to Mitch. Speaking of him, you looked up at him and saw his eyebrows were raised. You just rolled your eyes and flipped him off.

“Don’t be late.” The call abruptly ended and you found yourself wondering why you had covered for him. You’re not afraid to die… but it was almost instinctual to lie to your boss and that scared you. Because if Mitch had the power to make you do that… what else could he make you do?

You cleared your throat and looked up at him. He tossed your phone on the floor then continued digging through your purse. He pulled out your revolver and smirked.

“Cute.”

“Yeah I bet you’ll think it’s really cute when one of those bullets goes through dick-“

“Watch your fucking mouth. That’s your final warning.”

“Or what?” You challenged him. He set your gun on the bed behind him and kneeled over your hips again.

“Open.” You kept your mouth shut as tight as possible and he sighed. Mitch grabbed your cheeks and forced your jaw down then slid his gun into your mouth. You gagged at the taste and tried to get away from it but he was practically holding your head down. When you gagged again, this time it was because he shoved it further into your mouth. You felt tears well up in your eyes, then fall down your temples.

“Poor baby, crying over a few inches. How do you think you’re going to take my cock if you can’t even take this, hm?” You attempted to whine around the gun but it just sounded like a garbled moan. Mitch fucked his gun in and out of your mouth slowly and you continued to squirm under him.

“Careful, baby. One wrong move and I could accidentally pull the trigger. We don’t want that now do we?” You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, your body going stiff.

“There you go.” He purred. You continued gagging and crying, just wanting to be done with this part already.

“Take it.” He uttered softly. After a few more long seconds he removed it, a trail of saliva connecting the barrel and your lips. You coughed and tried to catch your breath, then looked up at him through your lashes, your lips were slightly parted as you panted.

He reached up and placed a hand on your cheek. You tried not to read into it when you leaned your head against his palm. His thumb wiped the remainder of your tears, then moved down to trace your lips. He just barely put his thumb in your mouth when you closed your lips around it and sucked lightly. You swirled your tongue around his finger, then opened your lips slightly. He removed his thumb, dragging your bottom lip down on the way out.

Your thighs were squeezed together and you bucked your hips before you could stop yourself. He chuckled and removed his hand from your face, groping your breasts instead. You gasped when he pinched your nipples and then winced when he tugged even harder.

“Ow.” You mumbled. He ignored you and did it again. “You know, you don’t have to be so rough with it. It feels perfectly fine when you do it lighter.”

“Oh I know. But here’s the thing,” He leaned down in front of your face, “I’m not trying to make you feel good, and I especially don’t care if it feels good or not.” He glanced at your lips, then leaned back up.

“I’m going to keep hurting you. And if your slutty little head can’t tell the difference, that’s not my fault.” He shrugged and you pouted.

“There’s not even a small part of you that wants to make me feel good?” You looked up at him through your lashes. His hands grabbed your waist, his thumbs rubbing circles on your stomach.

“You know, usually when someone tries to kill me… that’s not a very good incentive for me to pleasure them.” You just rolled your eyes.

“But I understand why you’re confused, baby.” His tone was dripping with condescension. “Because we both know you’re not leaving here alive and yet, I’d bet you’re all too willing and eager to please me.” You scoffed and he raised his eyebrows, as if to say am I wrong?

“Tough luck.” You snickered, feeling his grip tighten on your waist. “I’m a pillow princess. So I’m perfectly content right here.” You smirked and tilted your head slightly from its place on the pillows, as if to give him a physical example of just how content you are. He gripped your neck in one hand, the other holding himself up on the bed next to your shoulder while he leaned over you.

“That may be true, but even as a pillow princess I can tell you’d do just about anything for some praise.” You felt your cheeks heat up at that. There’s no way you’re this easy to read…?

“Please.” You scoffed. “I wasn’t loved enough by my daddy and now I’ll do anything a man asks in bed? Is that it?” You said sarcastically.

“No I don’t think it’s that.” Mitch tilted his head, studying you. “I think, being a female assassin, you rarely get the recognition and praise that you deserve. So you crave it in other forms.” You swallowed, your neck moving under his palm.

“What is this, a fucking therapy session?” You spat, growing uncomfortable under his gaze.

“No.” He smirked. “I’m just having some fun by getting under your skin.”

“Or are you just stalling cause you’ve never been with a woman before?” You flashed an innocent smile as his hand tightened on your neck. “Or is it that you can’t get it up? There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Mitch. Impotence isn’t uncommon.” You feigned seriousness, almost laughing at his expression.

Eventually though, he just chuckled darkly and your stomach dropped a little. He grabbed your ripped underwear and shoved it in your mouth. You looked at him with wide eyes, but before you could do anything, his hand was leaving your neck and sliding down your stomach. He reached your leg and traced over your hip bone, not going down any farther. You tried to spread your legs under him but you barely moved.

Mitch leaned up then settled between your legs on his knees. He grabbed your hips roughly and dragged his nails down your thighs, touching you just about everywhere except where you actually wanted him to.

You whined, squirming and opening your legs wider. Finally, his fingers ghosted over your clit, making you instantly buck your hips into his hand. To retaliate, he slapped your clit, hard, and shot you a warning look. You choked on a gasp at the sting but it faded quickly.

His fingers lightly dragged down your clit to your folds, then back up to start again. You were just about to rip the underwear from your mouth and tell him to hurry up when a finger entered you. You let out a muffled moan and closed your eyes, tilting your head back. He curled his finger inside you over and over again until you were bucking your hips against his hand. He inserted another finger and you let out another relieved moan.

This continued for a few minutes until you felt yourself nearing the edge. His palm pressed down against your clit, adding even more stimulation. Your hips were rocking against his hand and your eyes closed as you were about to come. He pulled his hand away suddenly, making you whine loudly.

“Ready for some torture?” Mitch smirked and you pouted around the makeshift gag. His fingers entered you, picking up where they left off. You fisted the sheets in both hands and arched your back slightly as you got close again. He stopped and you cried out as you came down from the edge for a second time.

“You gonna answer me now?” He looked at you with a dark glint in his eyes. He wasn’t really asking since he didn’t remove the gag to let you speak. “That’s fine. I have all night.” He curled his fingers inside of you and picked up the speed, making you release a muffled moan. He edged you a few more times- after the fourth time you started losing count- and you were so desperate that you were on the verge of tears.

You tried talking around the underwear in your mouth but it just came out as incoherent, muffled sounds. He removed it and you didn’t waste a second before begging.

“Please- I want…” You cut off with a sharp inhale when a third finger entered you, “I want to come. Please make me come.” He was silent for a moment and then he removed his fingers, sucking your arousal off of them quickly.

“How about this?” He picked up your gun and took out the bullets, leaving one in, and then spun the cylinder. “I’m going to shoot this four times,” he leaned over on his elbow, aiming the gun at your temple, “and if you’re still alive by the end of it, then you can come.” You choked on a gasp and his fingers brushed your entrance again.

“If you’re not alive by the end of it…” He leaned down so his nose almost brushed yours, “Well, I’m still going to fuck you.” He whispered with a dark look in his eyes that made you shiver. He inserted his fingers again and you whimpered at the intrusion.

“Ready?” He smirked, cocking the gun. You shook your head and furrowed your brows.

“N-no, I don’t-“ You flinched when he pulled the trigger, the click deafening right next to your ear because of the sudden fear you got hit with. You shuddered and squeezed your eyes shut.

“One.” He rasped. You whimpered and shook your head more.

“M-Mitch, I-I don’t wanna…” You gasped out.

“Why not, baby?” He worked his fingers inside you faster now. “I thought you wanted to come?” And the thing is… you do. You want to come so fucking badly. The gun aimed at your head is only adding to the growing knot of arousal in your stomach. But you watched him load the gun. And you have every reason to believe that he truly doesn’t care whether he fucks you before or after he kills you. While the thought makes you clench around his fingers, you’d rather be alive for that.

“Just three more, princess. I know you can take it. You wanna come right?” The saccharinity in his voice was quickly taking down all of your defenses. You nodded hesitantly, still shaking out of fear and arousal. He pulled the trigger again, the sound making you release a choked sob.

“Two more.” You felt tears welling in your eyes quickly. You’ve dabbled with fear play as a kink in the past, but it was never anything like this. He inserted a fourth finger and you whimpered at the stretch, but didn’t tell him to stop.

“You deserve this, princess.” His fingers contrasted the gentleness in his tone. “Maybe I should just fire all six rounds.” You moaned through a cry, feeling too overwhelmed emotionally and physically. “Cause we both know your holes are all you’re good for. At least when you’re dead you won’t be able to talk.” He fired the third shot and you felt the tears start to fall.

“Poor thing. Are you scared?” He cooed softly and you nodded with a whimper. “Little girls like you shouldn’t be carrying weapons around. It makes it too easy for just anyone to turn the tables and have you at the other end.” The way he reprimanded you was infantilizing. And you hated the fact that you don’t hate it…

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimpered, not sure what else to say.

“You’re so fucking pathetic. Look at you, humping my hand.” You didn’t even realize you were doing that. “Even with a gun to your head you’re still only thinking with your cunt. That’s why you’re a shitty assassin.” He whispered the last part bitterly.

“Dumb little whores like you aren’t cut out for this, you know why? Because you’d rather fuck your target than finish the assignment.” He ground the palm of his hand down hard on your clit, making you moan. “Say it, princess. Say ‘I’m a dumb whore who only thinks with my cunt.’” You whined loudly in protest, but he pressed the gun hard into your temple, reminding you of your position right now.

“I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, “I’m a…” You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Open your eyes, baby. Open your eyes and look at me.” You complied. “There you go. Now keep looking at me and say it. Don’t make me tell you again or one more shot will turn into two.”

“I’m a- a dumb whore who only thinks with my- with my cunt.” You whispered and Mitch looked satisfied.

“You ready to come?” You whimpered and nodded eagerly, thinking he’d let you come before firing the last shot. “Then just one more, baby.” Your stomach dropped and you felt the fear come back, full force. The coil in your stomach was about as tight as it could get and you tried to come before he could have a chance to fire another round, but your body would not obey you.

“Ready?” You choked on a sob and shook your head. “Oh come on, don’t be such a little bitch about it. Do you want to come or not?”

“Yes!” You cried.

“Then beg.” He said and you paused.

“W-what?”

“Beg me to shoot you so you can finally come, humping my hand like a fucking bitch in heat.” He growled, his fingers somehow going faster. You stared at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

“Go on, baby.”

“Please…” You mumbled.

“Remember what I said would happen if I had to tell you again?” You swallowed, giving him a small nod.

“Please s-shoot me…” You whimpered, eyeing the gun. He raised his eyebrows so you continued, “so you can finally make me come.”

“Good girl.” He smirked, grinding his palm harder against your clit, bringing you impossibly closer to the edge. He fired the gun and you froze, then let out a heavy breath.

“Can- can I come now please?” You all but sobbed in relief.

“Go ahead, princess. Keep humping my hand just like that… good girl. Grind on it, baby. Make yourself cum.” He set the gun on the bed then wrapped his hand around your throat, pressing on the sides hard enough to make you light headed. You gripped his bicep and squeezed your eyes shut. Finally the knot inside you snapped and your back arched as your head tilted back, pushing your throat into his hand. Your other hand reached up to grab the wrist of the hand on your neck. You didn’t try to pull him away, you just needed something to ground yourself.

As you came down from your orgasm, your body sagged into the bed. Your eyes were closed as you panted, trying to catch your breath. He pulled his fingers from you then took his ring and pinky fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and groaning at the taste. He placed his pointer and middle fingers in your already open mouth and you moaned, leaning forward to take them deeper.

“Who do you work for?” He asked softly, removing his fingers and using his other hand to cup your cheek. The tenderness of his touch and his voice distracted you from the weight of the question.

“Piece of shit.” You mumbled sleepily, leaning into his hand. “Hate him.” You sighed and closed your eyes that were growing heavier the longer you tried to keep them open.

“Why does he want me dead?” He brushed his thumb against your cheek, his other hand moving some hair behind your ear.

“You’re being so sweet. Dunno why anyone would want that.” You pouted, opening your eyes to look at him. He gave you a soft smile, but his eyes showed his confusion. “I didn’t wanna kill you. Dunno why… just had a feeling I guess.” You returned his smile then closed your eyes again.

“I’m not done with you yet, princess. Don’t go falling asleep on me now.” He chuckled, his breath fanning against your lips. “Remember what I said? I’m fucking you whether you’re alive or not.”

“Alive doesn’t mean conscious.” You smiled mischievously, not opening your eyes.

“Alright then. If you don’t want to be conscious when I fuck your face and then your cunt, then by all means. Go ahead and sleep. Makes no difference to me.” You could practically hear his smirk, and yet… you still took the bait. You opened your eyes and glared at him.

“Fine. I guess I’ll be conscious.” You huffed dramatically, rolling your eyes. You did your best to suppress a giggle.

“I’m honored.” His faux seriousness is what made you break out into a fit of laughter. He didn’t really laugh with you, but he smiled so you counted that as a win.

“Alright get it over with.” You settled into your spot on the bed and opened your mouth with a glint in your eyes.

“You’re such a pillow princess.” He muttered, shaking his head with an amused smile.

“Hey! Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing. I’m proud to be a pillow princess.” You grinned and he just scoffed.

“Yeah, okay.” He laid down on the spot next to you, one hand resting on his stomach and the other behind his head. “Sorry, princess but you’re gonna have to do some of the work. I’ve been on top the whole time.”

“So what I’m hearing is… you want to bottom? I mean I’m down for that but I don’t think we have the right materials, unless you’re hiding a strap somewhere.” You smirked, sitting up.

“Cute. Remember what happened last time you didn’t watch your mouth?” You flushed at the memory.

“How are you gonna fuck my face if you gag me with my underwear again?”

“I’m really starting to reconsider accepting your decision to stay conscious.” You gaped at him.

“You wound me, Mitch.” You put a hand over your heart dramatically.

“I’m going to wound you if you don’t hurry up.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You know, you telling me to hurry up makes me want to do the opposite.” You crossed your arms and he huffed.

“You’re a brat too. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah actually. It usually goes hand in hand with the whole pillow princess thing.” You condescended him and he raised his eyebrows.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes then looked up at you through his lashes. “Please suck my cock, baby. You wanna make me feel good right? Wanna prove that you really are a good girl? Cause I’m aching for you, princess. I know you can make me feel so fucking good.” He all but whined and you faltered. That was not what you were expecting at all. You figured you’d get another sarcastic reply, not- not that. You settled between his legs on your knees.

“I want to state for the record that I am doing this because I want to, not because you told me to.” You started unbuttoning his pants and you glanced up when he didn’t reply. He had a satisfied smirk on his stupid, pretty face. You just glared at him and kept working on taking his pants off. When you removed his black briefs you were mesmerized as his cock slapped against his stomach, big and red and did you mention he was big??

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I would but you threw my phone somewhere so…” You reached out to touch him but he grabbed your wrist.

“Take them off all the way.” You huffed but did what he said then reached for him again, he didn’t stop you this time. It looked even bigger in your hand and you could see the vein on the bottom and the precum surfacing at the tip. You leaned down and licked the clear bead, moaning at the taste and then laying down on your stomach between his legs.

You looked up at him and god what a sight. The veins in his arm behind his head are bulging and you could see the veins in the hand resting on his stomach. His pupils were blown wide and he had a light blush on his face.

“C’mon, princess. We don’t have all night.” You ignored him and continued trailing your gaze over his body. You wanted to kiss all of the moles littering his face. Your hand reached up and you brushed your fingers down his happy trail until you reached the base of his cock. You grasped it and looked up at him before starting to move your hand.

His eyes fluttering was the only indication that he even felt anything, so you decided to do more. You put the tip in your mouth and lightly sucked and then swirled your tongue around it, your hand still pumping him. He muttered a ‘fuck’ and you wanted more.

You took him deeper into your mouth, until your lips met your hand, then went back up, still keeping your mouth on him. You looked up at him and when you met his eyes he groaned. He tangled a hand in your hair but didn’t push you yet.

“That’s it. Fuck- good girl. No hands, baby. Just your mouth.” You removed your hand and continued bobbing your head up and down his length. He started taking control, moving you further down each time. When you gagged and tried to pull back is when he lost all control.

His other hand joined your hair and he didn’t even move your head. He just held you still and bucked up into your mouth at a punishing pace. Each time he thrusted in, you were nearly all the way down, but not fully. His thrusting came to an abrupt stop when he buried his cock as far as your throat would allow.

“Fuck- Relax your throat, princess. C’mon, take me all the way in.” You did your best to relax and he pushed inside until you gagged around him and tried moving off him. His grip didn’t loosen and you clawed at his thighs, feeling your airways start to burn from lack of oxygen. When he finally let you pull back, you took a huge breath in and coughed. Mitch was stroking your hair and you looked up at him with tears in your eyes.

“Ready for more?” You glanced at his cock again and nodded, licking your lips. He eased your mouth back over him and started with slow thrusts. He moved your head up and down his length, the slow place allowing you to concentrate on breathing and not gagging.

“You’re just the perfect little fuck toy for my cock, aren’t you?” You moaned around him and he started to speed up. “Just a fleshlight for me to use however I want. Fuck- you were made for this.” He grunted. His hips started to meet your mouth every time he pushed you down.

“Fuck- take it, princess.” He groaned when you choked around him. He held you down until your lips were at the base of his cock, paying no mind to your struggling. Your hands gripped his thighs again, nails digging into the skin. Even though he was holding you flush against his hips, he was still thrusting into your mouth slightly.

Finally he released you, a trail of spit connecting your lips and his cock. One of his hands fell to his side, the other brushing the tears of your face.

“Come here.” He muttered, pulling your body up his. He kissed you slowly, nails dragging down your back, making you groan. He rolled both of you over until he was on top of you, never breaking the kiss.

“I’m gonna fuck you now.” He rasped. You nodded your head, eager for him to start. “Condom?” He took his cock in his hand, rubbing the tip against your opening and your clit.

“Don’t have one. I’m on the pill though.” You breathed, bucking your hips into him. He connected his lips to yours again, this time faster and more eager. He pressed the tip against your opening, pushing in the tiniest amount. When he finally breached your walls you gasped. Obviously you knew he was big… but it’s a whole other story when he’s actually inside you.

He slowly slid his length into you, your legs being pushed up to his hips the closer he got. When his hips were flush against yours, your chest started heaving as you tried to relax around him.

“Fuck,” You whimpered, grabbing his bicep in one hand and the sheets in the other, “oh my god. You’re so fucking big.” You gasped out. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth in a silent moan. Mitch grabbed your thigh and pushed it up higher, the new angle making you whimper.

“Oh fuck- your little cunt is so tight around me.” He groaned, finally starting to pull back slowly. He dragged his length out of you until only the tip was inside, then snapped his hips forward quickly. The force pushed you up the bed slightly but he continued that rhythm.

“Fuck- please go faster.” You whined, dragging your nails down his back and making him groan. His thrusts sped up slightly, the sound of his hips hitting yours was resonating through the room, along with your moans. His mouth attached to your neck as he bit and sucked the skin everywhere he could reach. You put a hand in his hair and pulled on it hard. To retaliate, his hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing the sides and making your head feel lighter.

Mitch kissed you again briefly, then pulled out. You whimpered at the empty feeling but he quickly grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach. He pulled you onto your knees then pressed down on your upper back, making you arch even further. His cock entered you again and you let out a loud moan at the sudden thrust. His pace picked up quickly and you fisted the sheets near your head and squeezed your eyes shut. His hand left your back to grab your hips, using the leverage to thrust harder and faster.

He landed a sharp slap on your ass and you cried out from the sudden sting. He leaned over you and brushed the hair on your face behind your ear. His thrusts never ceased as his lips brushed your ear.

“You take my cock so fucking well, baby.” He said through a moan. Your breath hitched and you felt his words add to the growing warmth in your belly. “It’s like you were made for me. Made to be my little cock sleeve.” Mitch grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, making you gasp. His other hand wrapped around your throat, pushing your head back slightly. The harshness of his thrusts coupled with the sting on your scalp and the floaty feeling from his hand on your neck was driving you closer to the edge.

No matter how much you hated your boss or your job… you couldn’t help but feel glad that you didn’t quit yet. Because this was probably the best fuck of your life. Sure, most of the other men you’ve been with couldn’t please a woman to save their life- literally and metaphorically- but there’s just something different about him. About the way that he’s rough and soft at the same time. Not just in his actions but in his words too. It’s almost like he had a fucking manual for all of your kinks and turn ons.

“Where do you want me to come?” He whispered, lips grazing your ear. And fuck- you clenched around him, making him moan lowly.

“Inside.” You whispered breathily. His grip on your neck tightened and he cursed under his breath.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up?” He put all his weight on the arm holding your throat, then released your hair and moved his hand down to start rubbing your clit.

“Please.” You whined, clenching down on him again.

“Such a fucking slut- wanting a stranger to come inside you.” You whimpered at that because… even though it doesn’t feel like it, he still is a stranger. “What if I knock you up, huh? I guess it won’t matter either way since, like I said, you’re not leaving here alive.” His thrusts got harder and faster and he was panting next to your head.

“Please, I-“ You cut off with a choked sob, getting closer to your release with every thrust. “I wanna live. Wanna be your cock sleeve.” Despite you being 90% sure this was all roleplay, there was still some truth to your words.

“Begging for your life and all you have to offer are your holes?” Your breath hitched and his words just added to the growing knot in your stomach. “I might consider that. But it depends… are you offering all your holes?”

“Yes!” You said through a moan. “Yes- all of them.” He chuckled darkly. “Please, I- I need to come.” You cried, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

“Go ahead, baby. Come and I’ll fill you up, okay?” He rasped, his hand rubbing your clit faster. Your body obeyed his command and you cried out when your orgasm hit. You heard him curse under his breath and felt as he fucked into you faster. You buried your face in the bed, muffling your loud moans. His hips stilled and you felt hot come paint your walls. You let out a loud whine as his hips just barely bucked against you, trying to bury himself deeper.

After both of you stilling and just panting for a few seconds, you lifted your face from the bed so you could breathe better and he moved off of you so he was kneeling. Mitch slowly dragged his cock out and you clenched at the emptiness. You felt his come drip out of you, down your clit, and he groaned loudly. He rubbed the head of his cock on you, spreading his come around, and you hissed at how sensitive you were. He moved to lay beside you and you dropped down from your knees on your stomach.

“You don’t seem like the type to cuddle after sex.” You chuckled and the corners of his lips turned up.

“You’d be surprised. But we aren’t exactly cuddling right now.”

“Well what’s stopping you?” You smirked and he rolled his eyes before pulling you to lay partially on top of him.

“Better?” He raised his brows and you laughed quietly.

“Much.” You said, laying your head on his chest. His fingertips lightly dragged up and down your arm and you traced the moles and freckles on his chest. What now? You thought. He’s not actually going to kill you… is he? “Are you actually gonna kill me?” You mumbled against his chest.

“I don’t know…” He sighed. “No. But I can’t just let you go.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I think I should bring you to my superiors and let them decide what to do with you.”

“Your superiors? That doesn’t sound ominous at all.” You laughed, feeling his chest vibrate as he chuckled quietly. “What are they like mob bosses or something?” You said teasingly.

“More like a former navy seal and director of the CIA.”

“The C-“ You lifted yourself off his chest to look at him. “CIA? You work for the CIA??” Your voice rose in shock and he raised his brows, amused by your reaction.

“Oh my god- I almost killed someone from the CIA. That would’ve been so bad.” You put a hand over your mouth and stared at him with wide eyes. “You didn’t even get close to killing me.” He chuckled.

“Only because I didn’t want to. I totally could’ve killed you.” He just smirked at you but you were too hung up on the fact that your boss basically sent you on a suicide mission. If not suicide, then life in jail.

“That bastard! He sent me to kill an agent of the US government and didn’t even fucking tell me.” You seethed before calmly stating, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“Don’t kill him.” He chuckled. “Actually it depends. Who is he?” You told him the name and his eyebrows raised before he let out a small laugh.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“That’s the guy we’ve been after right now. We’re actually really close too.”

“Oh... What’d he do?” You asked.

“He’s a terrorist.” He deadpanned and your whole expression dropped.

“Oh shit.” You breathed. “Okay well now I definitely want to kill him.” You shrugged. “After I get paid though.”

“But you didn’t kill me.”

“That’s what’s funny about it though. It’d be even more ironic if you were the one to kill him.” Suddenly, you realized that you, an assassin, are talking to an agent of the US government about killing someone. “Are you gonna arrest me?” You asked nervously and he let out a small chuckle.

“I don’t think I can even do that… but no.” You sighed in relief. “Plus, what good is a fuck toy if it’s in jail?” He smirked and you felt your cheeks heat up.

I’M SORRY IDK HOW TO END THIS 😭💀

[the-mad-starker]

Starkercest Smut: Quick Tips For Satisfying An Alpha (1/3)

For TSToT and Starker Battleship!!

Figured I'd post this in and I'ma try to finish chapter 2 so I can attack Spidey team over at @starker-battleship !! Not gonna reveal my prompts just yet but they're very typical of me haha 😮

Notes: Omegaverse, starkercest, alpha tony, omega Peter, intersex Omegas, Size Kink, ambiguous age but underaged, tags to be updated

Rating: E

WC: 2606 (AO3 Link)

💗💗💗

When Peter Stark walked into Omega Ed., he wasn't sure what to expect but it surely hadn't been this.

The sex ed class for omegas that he'd been required to attend was just so dry. He hadn't had any real expectations though. If anything, he thought he'd end up leaving with a bright red face because learning about those things with his peers just seemed… embarrassing?

But no. Whatever Peter had expected, it was worse because it was boring. The omega instructor was a stickler for facts, which, yeah, those were super important, but Peter wanted to know stuff beyond what he could find in textbooks.

For the first week, they had to study the anatomy of all sub-genders. Peter learned a lot, for sure. He learned just how knotting happened, how female alphas’ pensies were different from males, and that male omegas had two internal erogenous spots compared to female omegas who only had one. That kind of information was an eye opener, but even then, it was all… very scientific and therefore, not at all what he thought sex ed would be like.

He'd been raised by a very sex-positive parent so it wasn't surprising that Peter had questions. Unfortunately, Peter realized pretty early on that what he had wanted from the class was guidance and a more real life approach than the in-depth diagrams and plastic models that his instructor showed them.

Like Peter now knew about the prostate and g-spot for omegas, but how do you stimulate them? What did that even feel like? He read somewhere that prostate stimulation for some males was uncomfortable but was that across all males? Or were omegas an exception? Or maybe just alphas? Beta males?

He had so many questions but the instructor didn't seem inclined to answer them. It was always a gentle but firm decision to turn back to the books and a dismissive answer that wasn't an answer at all.

It was great, then, that Peter had such an accommodating parent. His dad had never held back on giving him the truth, at least not since he was maybe five years old and had accidentally tugged Santa’s beard off only to be met with his dad’s chagrined face.

His dad wouldn't sugarcoat things for him and he’d finally get the answers he wanted.

Peter set his plan into motion on a nice Saturday morning. The freshly ground coffee beans were brewing and just as expected, the smell of it lured his alpha father out of his room.

Peter watched as his dad went straight for the coffee pot, eyes assessing the alpha over the rim of his cup of orange juice.

His father was the epitome of what an alpha should be, Peter recalled all the social media claiming. His classmates often teased him for having a hunk of an alpha as a father. Add to the fact that his dad was also single… and his father didn't discriminate between genders… and he was rich and handsome…

Peter frowned and took a sip of his OJ.

He tried to look at his dad like his classmates did. Look beyond his quirky lovable father to see the alpha that teens his age drooled after.

Surprisingly, it wasn't hard because as he already acknowledged… His dad really was the perfect alpha.

Alpha genes really were something. Alphas were just naturally taller, broader, and stronger. Put an alpha next to an omega, and these physical attributes were even more exaggerated. Alphas had a more muscular physique compared to an omega’s softer, leaner body.

And that was just the genes influencing an alpha. Of course, like any normal person, if they didn't take advantage of it, an alpha can squander those built in boosts and end up as unhealthy as any other. Not even superior alpha genes could help someone if they didn't take care of themselves.

But Tony Stark didn't have that problem. Peter’s gaze lingered over his lightly muscled arms, his broad shoulders, and the defined muscles of his back through his thin white undershirt. His dad, courtesy of Peter’s insistence, ate healthy and, despite his grumbling, worked out regularly.

“Morning, kid,” his dad's voice rumbled, rough from sleep. It sent something foreign but exciting shooting through Peter's body.

He stood up, setting his OJ aside, and like many sleepy mornings before, he hugged his dad from behind as Tony readied his coffee.

With his face pressed against his dad’s back, Peter breathed in the comforting scent of his alpha. This close, he could smell his own scent mixed in, and before he knew it, a purr rumbled in his chest.

His dad had never been able to resist Peter’s purring and it said a lot that his attention immediately went from his precious coffee to his even more precious son.

Tony turned and gathered Peter in his arms and the omega melted right into his embrace.

As a male omega, Peter stood at a respectable 5’7 height, but in his daddy’s arms, he felt so small and precious. He rested his cheek on his dad’s chest, the firm muscle of his pecs a perfect cushion. Their eyes met and Peter’s purr grew louder which only made the fond smile on Tony’s face grow wider.

“Alright, Pete, what is it?” Tony laughed, hugging him tight. “You've ambushed me before my coffee and you're purring up a storm so you're up to something. Give your old man a break and out with it.”

Peter pouted but he let his purring taper off before it stopped completely.

“First off, you're not old, Dad,” Peter had to protest.

Yeah, his dad had some silvers and grays in his hair and beard, but he was far from old. He was still in the prime of his life as far as Peter was concerned.

“Mhmm.”

Tony wouldn't be so easily distracted so Peter adopted his best puppy eyes look. Wide round honey brown eyes and just the slightest downturn of his lips completed the pouty look.

“Ouch, pulling out the big guns,” his dad dramatically sighed.

“Dad… You know they put me in omega ed this year, right?” Peter started.

“Mhmm, I had to sign off on it 'cause you know how some parents get about that stuff,” Tony said then raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Do you want out or something?”

Peter paused but then shook his head.

“No, not really,” Peter decided, “I'm learning some stuff but it's…” How could he explain that it wasn't giving him what he wanted?

“Not what you expected, huh?” His dad hummed in understanding.

Peter instantly lit up, pleased that his father just understood him right off the bat.

“Yeah! I mean, I've tried asking questions but it always goes back to–” Here, Peter pitched his voice to a soft almost condescending tone, “This is not that type of class, Peter. I don't think your parents would appreciate it if I indulged in those kinds of questions, Peter. This class is just to help you get a better understanding of how your body works.”

Peter huffed by the end of his mini rant and immediately, his dad soothed him with a few strokes to his hair.

“Yeah, I get it,” His dad indulged him, “So what can I do, hmm? The classes that’ll scratch that itch in your brain are probably college courses. Psych classes if you're interested in the bonding aspect or maybe those general Alpha-Beta-Omega classes… We can look into some AP classes or some online classes…?”

Peter briefly thought about it but then shook his head.

“I don't think my interest is that deep,” he explained to his dad. “At least not yet? I just want… something more informative or uhh… something more real life than diagrams and stuff…”

Throughout the entire exchange, Tony maintained eye contact with him, probably to show he took Peter’s concerns seriously. Peter loved that about his dad but for the first time, the young omega hesitated. He didn't think it was weird for him to ask his dad but maybe it was weird in general?

They had a strong bond but surely, there were limits and lines between father and son that couldn't– shouldn't be crossed.

He's already gotten this far, though, and with his dad now alerted to a problem, Tony definitely wouldn't let it go unless Peter begged him to drop it.

But the thing is… Peter didn't want to drop the subject. This was his life, his future, and his understanding of what being an omega meant. He trusted that his dad would always have his best interest at heart, that he loved him no matter what and no matter what questions Peter asked.

There was no one he trusted more so Peter took the jump.

“I thought maybe… you can help me?”

There, it was out there in the open.

There was a moment of silence where Peter felt blood rush up to his cheeks and flush down his neck. This was probably the craziest thing he'd ask from his dad.

“You… want me to talk about my, uh, dating…. life…?” Tony asked, puzzled.

With that, Peter instantly relaxed but he did make a sour face at the question itself. He didn't want to know anything about the many alphas, betas, or omegas that had caught his father’s interest in the past. He didn't even try to parse the fact that it was other people getting intimate with his dad that bothered him, not the fact that it was his dad at all.

“Nooo thank you,” Peter denied very quickly. Rando strangers getting their grubby hands all over his amazing father? Gross.

“Not like I have much of one,” Tony sighed then ruffled Peter’s hair again, this time a little roughly, “Too busy with this little troublemaker here.”

Peter grabbed his dad’s wrist and set his teeth to the skin there in a playful bite. And like the good daddy he was, Tony pretended to be seriously injured.

“Oww, what a feral feisty omega I've raised,” Tony bemoaned as he tested the hold that Peter’s teeth on him.

Peter let go but still held onto his dad’s hand. The embarrassment had died down with their interaction. His dad always knew how to make Peter feel better.

“I don't wanna know about your past flings,” Peter told Tony seriously. “But I wanna know things about… alphas… And I've looked into some stuff but none of them were…” Just thinking about all the ridiculous porn he’d stumbled across in his research made him feel hot all over.

“...Credible…” Peter coughed.

His alpha gave him a look, no doubt realizing what his sources were.

“So what… you want like… tips?” Tony asked hesitatingly. “About alphas?”

“Maybe?” Peter answered, also a bit doubtful. He wasn't sure tips was the right word because he wanted something more than that. “...Would it be too much to like…”

Why was this so hard! Peter wanted nothing more than to bite his dad’s hand again, just so the words wouldn't come out. But he was a Stark and even though they were bonafide geniuses, they were also idiots with idiot planning at times.

Maybe he should've put more thought into this. His dad would never do anything to hurt him or make fun of him for his questions. The worst that could happen would be his father saying no and setting up some online learning and getting actual credible sources… But this was what Peter wanted.

He just wanted his emotional support alpha, who happened to be his dad, to hold his hand through all of it.

That was what he wanted. If he could have it. But first, he'd have to ask.

Peter firmed his resolve and then looked up from where he’d been staring at their clasped hands.

“I think I do want tips and… maybe some… hands-on experience…?” Peter tacked on the last bit, unsure of what his dad’s response would be.

Tony’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“Oh,” was his dad’s response. The request was definitely a surprise, but it wasn't a no.

Peter looked at his dad, hopeful and uncertain. Terrified but excited.

Maybe… maybe…??

His daddy took in his puppy eyes and Peter could see the second he gave in.

“Ohh, boy,” his dad groaned, “you're so vicious, Pete. At least let me have my coffee before you throw something like this at your old man. I can't believe my baby boy would pop this question before I've even had a sip to wake up.”

That sounded like a yes! Well, not a definite yes, but Peter knew his dad and that was a yes for sure.

He pecked a kiss on Tony’s cheek, his face making some weird expression because he was trying not to smile.

Peter quickly retreated back to his OJ, leaving his father to his coffee. He did have a bounce in his step.

He watched eagerly as Tony poured way too much sugar into his coffee. He didn't even make a peep as his dad stirred for a bit before taking his first sip.

He waited patiently and when his dad finally looked at him, their eyes met over the rim of their cups. It felt like something seemed to sizzle between them, some irreversible change that Peter didn't understand.

“Alright,” his dad said once he'd gathered his thoughts. “So my baby boy wants his daddy to teach him about being an omega and what to expect from alphas. Is that it?”

Peter’s breath hitched as he saw the look in his father's eyes. Dark and calculating. The mood was entirely different now and Peter’s heart fluttered as anticipation took over.

“Y-yeah, I mean, yes, Daddy,” Peter tried to sound so confident like a strong omega who knows what he wanted but the words came out coquettish and shy.

That only made his dad hum thoughtfully.

“Alright, Pete,” Tony affirmed, “This… Whatever this is… You gotta be sure, kid, that this is what you want. I’ll always stop if you want me to or you decide to call it off– but some things you can't pretend never happened once you've done ‘em. If you know what I mean.”

Peter did know. Theoretically. Or at least he’d thought about it briefly. Even now, he was sure this was what he wanted.

“I'm sure,” Peter said with all the confidence of a teen who only had a tiny inkling of what he was getting into.

“Good,” his dad said and Peter sighed in relief at the acceptance. He smiled at his father, only for his breath to catch because…

For the very first time, the person looking at him wasn't his patient loving father, but an alpha assessing a potential omega.

Oh…

His dad was already starting without realizing it. With just that one look, Peter was already learning what it meant for an alpha to look at an omega like that. It made him feel… he wasn't sure what but he liked it.

His gaze dropped but then flirted back up. His dad smirked at him, knowingly, and Peter agonized over what that smirk meant. His dad always seemed to know what was on his mind, did he know what he was doing to his own son, even now?

Peter’s hands tightened on his drink, cheeks flushed like he'd been drinking wine instead of juice. Was this how omegas felt when alphas gave them attention…?

If so… Peter liked it. He liked it a lot.

The omega squirmed in his seat, surprised but excited by the indescribable look in his father's eyes.

He couldn't wait to learn what it meant.

[call-me-strega]

How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 2 (chapter 1/?)

Here is part 1, lore

Edit: ao3 link now here

They do go to a library in this chapter so there are a lot of references to books in this chapter. I've read some but not all of them so I can say anything about their quality more than as things that I thought sounded interesting in theory. A lot of the stuff at the library was inspired by my own experiences with public libraries.

~~~

Step 2: Get to know them

Within the next 4 months Jason ran into Danny several more times. Each time becoming more and more enamored with the young man. It was hard not to when he saw how kind and hard-working he was.

~

The first time he ran into Danny after their first meeting he actually ran into Ellie first. Well, technically she ran into him but that's beside the point. But if you were gonna get technical about it he heard her little giggles before he saw her.

He had been at the library during some of his downtime to peruse some books and relax. The life of a vigilante crime lord isn't a very peaceful one, go figure. That's why Jason liked taking some time to himself every once in a while whether it was to have tea with Alfred, hang with one of his friends or siblings, or in this case visit Gotham Public Library.

Sure he could've gone to the Manor Library or gotten something online but the Manor was pretty far from the Alley and preferred having physical copies of his books rather than a computer or tablet. Electronics just didn't have that nostalgic book smell or the soft touch of a well-loved page.

Going to the library also came with its own perks. For one, he got to visit Barbie at work. It was always nice to see her as they had this unspoken solidarity between them. The atmosphere was also a plus. There was just something special about being able to be completely solitary yet still have this special connection to the other patrons. Seeing the old man enjoying a novel with his wife, the book club that met on Sundays, the haggard office worker winding down on the weekend with a graphic novel, the young woman teaching herself sign language, the teens goofing off while they were supposed to be studying, a mom reading The Kissing Hand to her kids, all of the various people here for various reasons; all of it made Jason feel like he was a part of something bigger.

He was currently browsing a display of LGBT+ books for young adults that the library had put up for Pride Month. '"Cemetery Boys", "Aristotle and Dante", "You Should See Me in a Crown", "Six of Crows", "Boyfriend Material", "Red, White, and Royal Blue", "Carry On", Oh- "The Song of Achilles" that sounds interesting?'

That’s when he felt a small chill pass behind him. He initially dismissed it as a draft from the air conditioner, but soon after he heard the sound of excited giggles nearby. He didn't think too much of it assuming it was another kid on their way out of the children's section. However, something niggled in the back of his head that this particular giggle was one he was familiar with.

That's when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a small child with a head of glossy black hair in a red beanie glomping his leg. Suddenly, the child looked up and beamed at him. Jason's eyes lit up with recognition and he laughed.

" Hey there munchkin, how are you?"

Ellie continued to smile, releasing her hold on his leg.

" I'm doing really good Mr. Jason! Daddy told me he didn't have any work today and he said we could go anywhere we wanted! First, we went to the bodega a got these really big breakfast sandwiches! Like really really big! Like the size of my face and we shared! And then Daddy took me to the park and it was really fun! I saw a squirrel there but it ran away before I could pet it! And then we came here and Daddy said we'd make me a library card so I could get whichever books I wanted. He read Oh The Places You Will Go and Where the Wild Things Are to me and then they were gonna have story time and Daddy looked tired from the park so I told him to read one of his space books and rest while I went to story time like a big girl! When story time was over I looked around and saw you so I came over to say hi and thank you for the cookies and food because daddy says we should always say thank you when people give us gifts!"

Damn, the girl sure had one hell of a motor mouth on her. It seemed she and Danny were in the middle of a father-daughter day. It brought a smile to his face to see that she was well taken care of, but based on her very informative rambles, it seemed they were taking care of each other.

" Why don't we go say hi to your dad, huh Elle?"

The young girl gasped, "That's a great idea! Then Daddy can say thank you too! And then you can read with us and come to our house for dinner! Daddy kept saying how he wanted to make something for you too since you made us the-, the- uuh... luz-on-ya and cookies!"

" Whoa there munchkin, how about we just start with hi?"

Ellie nodded with a determined look on her face, she wrapped her little hand around his pointer finger and pulled him along to the semi-secluded corner of the children's section. Sitting there in an armchair next to a small pile of books was Danny, who seemed to be out cold, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy slipping from his fingers.

'Aah he must be tired from moving in and probably from working too' Jason thought to himself. A smaller voice in the back of his chimed in with its own two cents. ' He still made time for her. He took her out and is spending the whole day with her even though he's tired. He's a good dad.' That's when he made up his mind not to disrupt Danny's nap and let him get some rest before he had to tackle the rest of his father-daughter day with his hyperactive six-year-old. He placed a hand on Ellie's shoulder, stopping her as she was about to shake Danny awake, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

" It looks like you were right about your dad being tired. How about we let him rest for now and I'll say hi another time? Besides I wouldn't want to interrupt your daddy-daughter day now would I?" He started to guide her to a different portion of the library quickly forming a plan, "Hows' bout we do something I think you'll like? Did you know sometimes they bring puppies and kitties into the library?"

The young girl gasped, " REALLY!"

" Yeah, sometimes puppies and kitties can help people who are feeling sad or nervous feel better. They also help teach kids how to act nicely and quietly so that they don't scare animals by letting them read to a puppy or kitty. I can help you sign up to read to a puppy or kitty today if you want? Then afterward, you can go tell your dad and he'll be really proud of you."

The young girl seemed so excited by the prospect that Jason worried for a second that she might explode.

" That's a great idea Mr. Jason! He'll be so proud of me and he'll bring me again! And I'll get so good at not scaring animals that the squirrels in the park will let me pet them! Then, Daddy will be so impressed that he'll let us get our own puppy and Cujo can come live with us!"

Jason winced, perhaps his plan had been a tad too effective. Single parents had a hard enough time keep themselves afloat while looking after their kids, a pet was extra expenses and another commitment to devote time and effort to. Pets were usually out of budget and out of question for anyone living in or near the Alley.

Well, he'd cross that bridge if he ever got to it. For now, he focused on getting Ellie signed up to read to Charlie, the old St. Bernard that was at the library this today. He and the trainer, he squinted reading her name tag, Amanda, supervised the session. Jason would be lying if he wasn't endeared by the sight of a young girl reading Dragons Love Tacos very enthusiastically to a dog nearly twice her size.

" It's nice to see a young father spending time with his daughter."

'I agree' Jason thought before realizing Amanda thought he was Ellie's dad.

" Oh- ah no I'm her -," Jason quickly made up his mind on the least creepy excuse he could find, " -babysitter. Although, her father does make a lot of effort spend time with her."

The dog trainer flushed and apologized for her mistake but Jason waved her off saying it was no big deal. Silently, he wondered how often Danny got time to himself. When he realized what he was thinking he raised an eyebrow at himself before dismissing it as worry for a young parent and wondering how he divided his time to be able to take such good care of his daughter.

Ellie was saying her final goodbyes to Charlie when he got a text from Alfred reminding him he had promised to meet him for tea and some chitchat. Once Ellie returned to his side he let her know that he had had fun seeing her today but that he had to go spend some time with his granddad and that he'd have to say hi to her dad another time. She accepted this with a surprising amount of maturity for a 6-year-old but made him pinky-promise that he'd definitely spend some time with the both of them next time they saw each other. Jason happily accepted and sent her back off to her dad before heading over to the tea shop he and Alfred liked to meet at.

" It is so nice to see you again Master Jason. I'm happy to see arrive in one piece. Usually when you are delayed it is due to some rather -ah, unfortunate hold-ups," Alfred greeted him. He returned the smile, sinking into his seat across from Alfred, ready to unload.

" Not this time Alfie, though it is a bit of a story."

" One I'm sure you'll be pleased to tell me all about," he challenged, raising an eyebrow. Jason just shook his head and chuckled.

" Sure thing Alfie."

~

The next time he ran into Danny and Ellie he was at the grocery store.

Jason had been examining a piece of zucchini when he felt a light, cool breeze quickly followed by the sensation of someone walking past him. A lean figure came and stood nearby inspecting the squash. Jason glanced up, having registered a new presence, before doing a double take. A small grin graced his lips as he spoke,

" Well hey there neighbor, didn't expect to see you today."

Danny looked up, slightly startled before he saw that it was Jason. He smiled back and returned his greeting in a warm tone.

" Hey neighbor, I didn't expect to see you either. Honestly, I was hoping we wouldn't meet till I had made a batch of my family's signature fudge to give you as a thank you when we returned your dishes for the food and for looking after Ellie that day in the library."

" Ah~ the little munchkin told you bout that did she?"

" She was pleased to inform me about how she was learning not to scare animals and how Mr. Jason was sooo nice and even pinky promised to spend some more time with her." he teased.

Jason flushed slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck,

" Oh yeah, I hope I didn't overstep my bounds there. She just seemed so excited."

" Yeah, that sounds like my little spitfire!" he chuckled fondly. He took a deep breath and continued. " Well if you don't have anything else going on tonight I'd love to have you over. Ellie has really been looking forward to seeing you again and I can whip up some fudge that you can take home with you if you stay for dinner?" Danny seemed to flush at his own forwardness before rushing to continue, " I mean- not that you have to, especially if you're busy! I just- thought it might be nice to get to know my neighbor, especially since Ellie seems to like you so much! But-"

Jason, who had just finished processing the dinner invite, interrupted before Danny spiraled deeper into his nervous rambles. He place a hand on Danny's shoulder to get his attention and spoke,

" Sure. I'd love to come over Danny." He smiled, puffing up his chest, “ Besides, I have a pinky promise to fulfill.”

Danny returned his smile with a laugh, giving Jason's shoulder an embarrassed shove. Jason grinned at having successfully made the other laugh. The two stared at each other for a beat, coming down from their high of making each other laugh, before flushing and looking away. A look of realization passed over Danny's face and he turned to speak to Jason again.

" You probably have your own groceries to finish and put away. How about you come over around 7:30? I can have the fudge cooling in the fridge while we eat, oh which reminds me, you’re not allergic to anything are you?"

Jason smiled back. "7:30 sounds great Danny and no, no allergies as far as I’m aware, though I’m not particularly fond of most shellfish."

“Well alrighty then I’ll see you at 7:30,” Danny confirmed with a smile and rushed off to continue his own shopping.

And that’s how Jason found himself standing outside the Nightingale residence in a casual maroon 3/4 sleeve tee, a dark denim jacket, and some of his nicer trousers with a bouquet of flowers he put a frankly embarrassing amount of thought into. He figured bringing more food wouldn’t be appropriate since he was a dinner guest, dessert wouldn’t fly either as Danny had claimed he’d be making fudge, and wine didn’t seem appropriate with a 6-year-old also in attendance.

‘Come on Jason, it’s just a casual dinner with your neighbors! Normal human interaction, nothing to be nervous about! You can do this!’

Jason took a breath and knocked on the door. He heard a pitched squee followed by a “it’s him daddy!” come from behind the door. Unconsciously, Jason smiled as he heard the door unlocking. As it opened he was met with a cool breeze from within the apartment and the sight of his two neighbors. Danny was in a pale, moss green apron, smudged with what appeared to be powdered sugar, over a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and cuffed jeans. Ellie was dressed in an interesting combo of pink crocs, neon green leggings, a sparkly, powder blue tutu, a white shirt with glittery black script declaring her “Daddy’s little princess”, a denim jacket embroidered with flowers and vines on the back and sleeves, and a plastic tiara with a big purple gem in the middle fixed atop her signature red beanie.

“Hi,” Danny greeted a bit breathlessly. His young daughter stood in front of him beaming up at Jason.

“ Mr. Jason you came!” She bounced excitedly on her heels before launching forward to hug his leg. She tugged at his jacket before pointing to her own, “Look! We match!”

With a smile, Jason got down on one knee and offered the flowers to her, “ And what an honor it is to match with such a beautiful princess! Please, accept these flowers as a token of my goodwill m’lady!”

“Thank you!” The girl giggled, accepting the bouquet and scurrying back into the apartment. Jason watched her go with a smile. He then turned his gaze to look up at Danny who watched the whole interaction with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He met Jason’s gaze and smiled.

“Why don’t you come in too my good sir,” he teased, holding out his hand to help Jason up. Jason smirked at the opportunity Danny had unknowingly presented him. He took Danny’s hand but made no move to get up. Instead, he ran his thumb over the other man’s knuckles and slowly brought the hand closer to his face. He glanced up once more, teal eyes connecting to icy blue ones.

“Of course my dear king,” he whispered. His breath dancing over Danny’s hand, his lips ghosting over his knuckles. Maintaining eye contact, the kneeling man placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, watching a beautiful red flush bloom upon the young man’s face.

‘His hand is cold. His fingers have the beginnings of callouses on them. It feels like his hand was made to fit in mine. This feels right’

Jason is snapped out of his reverie when Danny clears his throat. He coughs into his other hand while trying to hide his blush, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He doesn't withdraw his hand however, allowing Jason to continue to hold it. Jason took that as his sign to get up before this got too awkward.

He rose from the ground still not letting go of the other's hand. The pair stood there for a moment with their hands intertwined, as if a message was being passed through their tingling palms. A charge filled the air with an exhilarating tension. The kind you feel before trying something unfamiliar and new that, unbeknownst to you, will become your favorite.

“So, uh, let’s head in then?” Danny said, slowly withdrawing his hand from Jason’s, almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

“Let’s,” Jason replied and the two turned into the apartment.

Danny had Ellie show Jason to the bathroom so he could wash up as he set the table. He had made grilled squash, a macaroni and beef hotdish, and some Greek salad on the side. The three of them sat at the table making some small talk ( how are they liking it in Gotham, how did the rest of daddy-daughter day go, does Jason have restaurant/activity recommendations, would he like to see Ellie’s favorite model airplane, etc.) and laughing with each other over horrible dad jokes and Ellie’s antics.

Jason could feel his chest fill with an almost unbearable warmth. He would’ve sworn it’d have melted him from the inside out if it hadn’t been accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of joy and desire. The traitorous little whisper in his head returned to comment on how much he’d love to be a part of the Nightingale’s family.

Soon enough it was time for Ellie to head to bed and Jason to head out, lest he be late for patrol.

“Here, I can clear off the table while you put her to bed.”

Danny rushed to stop him despite the young child koala wrapped over his torso. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that. I can-”

“Relax your highness, let me take care of this while you put the princess to bed.” He gave Danny a kind look, hefting up the dirty dishes. Danny returned it with a grateful look and turned to go put his daughter to bed. Over his shoulder, Ellie looked up sleepily and weakly waved one last time saying “Goodnight Mr.Jason” in a small voice.

Jason smiled gently at her and replied, “Goodnight princess.”

He then turned back to his task of clearing the table. Moving the dirty dishes to the sink and the serving dishes to the counter. He figured he’d get started on the dishes while he waited for Danny to return. He let his mind wander as he covered a plate with soapy suds. Danny and Ellie seemed like a good pair of neighbors. He doubted they’d cause him any trouble and if they ever unintentionally did, Jason found himself thinking he’d find it rather easy to forgive them. The two were both so welcoming and full of life. They made Jason feel so happy and peaceful tonight. They welcomed him into their home and made him feel as if they enjoyed his company and wanted him around for more than just a cursory “return the favor” dinner. ‘As If he belongs there. With them.’ The little voice returned, prompting Jason to reel in his thoughts. He’s only known them for what? Two weeks? These weren’t the type of thoughts he should be having at this point. He tried to rationalize it telling himself he just missed the domesticity of family dinners like he had when Catherine was in a good stretch or like he had with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred as kid when they were all getting along. He made up his mind to attend one of the bi-weekly family dinners at the manor coming up. It’d be nice to see the little demon brat, big bird, and nerd bird again now that they were getting along like actual brothers.

“Oh! Jason you didn’t have to do that!” His train of thought broken by Danny rushing over to protest him doing dishes. “You’re a guest! You really didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay Danny, I wanted to,” he reassured the fussing young man who pulled him away from the sink. The young man responded by pushing him out of the kitchen and telling him to grab his jacket before turning back to grab something from the fridge.

And there he stood in the doorway, 20 minutes after he had intended to leave, still saying goodbye. Danny pushed a familiar Tupperware container into his hands, which recognized as the one he had given them lasagna in, now full of dark squares of fudge sprinkled with a bit of white and green on top.

Danny smiled as he handed him the sweets. “A family recipe with my own little twist on it,” he winked. Jason gratefully accepted, wishing the young man well and agreeing that he hoped to see the other again soon. And with that, Jason rushed off hoping that he wouldn’t be late for patrol.

~ Later that night Jason returned to his apartment, exhausted. He chucked his helmet off onto the bed and stumbled to his kitchen. He pulled open the fridge in search of something to eat when his eyes landed on the fudge his neighbor had given him. He pulled it out and grabbed a square, giving it a sniff before biting in. His eyes widened at the taste.

The fudge was, well fudgy, but not overly sweet. It had a richness of dark chocolate and a sweeter note from the white chocolate chips mixed in. There were also candied orange peels mixed into it which gave the fudge a bit of chew and acidity to break up the richness. The fudge was topped with pistachios adding a nutty, earthy flavor to the experience. He’s sure that if Martian Manhunter ever tried these he’d accuse Jason of giving him hard drugs. But what Jason liked most of all was the quality only homemade food and family recipes passed down over generations have. He could practically taste the amount of love and thought that went into this fudge.

Jason smiled to himself finishing off his square and decided the save the rest for later. He headed off to bed with a peaceful smile on his face and a warm, full, feeling in his chest.

~~~

I tried very hard to balance out the dialogue and description as well as to not make it too long winded and keep the story moving so please let me know what you guys think. I love receiving feedback so if there is anything you want to see more or less of let me know. I’m also open to suggestions of where Jason should run into our father-daughter pair next.

If anyone's interested here is what the bouquet was comprised of: apple blossom- preference, basil- good wishes, white camellia- you're adorable, goldenrod- encouragement/good fortune, violets- watchfulness/modesty/faithfulness

I actually looked up a real fudge recipe so that I'd have and easier time describing it. You can find it here: https://www.midwestliving.com/recipe/candy/creamy-rich-pistachio-tangerine-fudge

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 14

WIP Wednesday is happening this week! I would've had it up an hour or two ago, but I ended up having to run an emergency errand for my mom to keep her friend's car from being towed. But it's all been taken care of!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Note: Anyone who still doesn't know which episode I'm basing this arc on should know by the end of this segment. I did realize I made a mistake, though. The invading ghosts are Walker's guards. In the episode, up to this point the trio never refer to them as such. The audience, however, sees Walker send them in. I took that as Danny and co didn't realize they were Walker's people. But as I was going through minute-by-minute while writing, Danny does call them Walker's goons. So he knew the entire time. I'm adjusting that going forward and I'll retroactively make the edits before posting to AO3.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

Everyone left Sam’s house at the same time. The Amity crowd had to get to school and no one felt comfortable staying at Sam’s house while she wasn’t home. As they ate a quick breakfast, Tim noticed Conner’s fingernails were painted.

“Looks good, Kon,” he commented.

“Thanks,” said Sam. “I did them last night while you and Danny were sleeping. Introduced him to actual music, too.”

Conner grinned. “She’s promised to burn me some CDs before we go.”

“A mixed tape is the only valid way to share music,” Sam agreed. “And if he’s gonna rock the punk look, he should know the punk culture, too.”

Tim laughed. “Well, looks like we know what we’ll be listening to on the way home. Will you need a CD player, Kon?”

“Is my laptop not good enough?”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Come to Gotham with me. I know I have an old one lying around. Nothing like listening to a CD while lying somewhere, wired headphones tangling up as you shift position. If you want the authentic experience, that’s the only way to go.”

Conner shrugged, clearly unsure. “If you say so.”

Danny yawned. “You’re giving him Dumpty Humpty, right?”

Sam snorted. “Am I giving him Dumpty Humpty? Who do you think I am? Of course I am!”

“Good. You can’t introduce someone to good music and leave out Dumpty Humpty.”

Tim nodded. “Yeah, you’ve gotten me into them. They’re fun. You’ll like them, Kon.”

“You played a song or two by them last night, right?” Conner asked.

Cassie nodded. “Yep. That’s who she was playing when Tucker, Bart, and I left to get some sleep in the other room.”

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. I liked them.”

“Of course you did,” said Sam as she flicked her hair. “I have excellent taste.”

Tucker was typing away on his PDA. “So what’ll you be doing while we’re in school?”

Tim grimaced. “I was thinking of hitting up the local library. We want to learn more about the ghosts. But also B has said that a condition of allowing me to extend my trip is that I keep up with my own schoolwork. So I have some catch up to do.”

Danny waved his spoon at him. “And you get on me for not doing my work.”

“Yeah, but you want to graduate and, like, go to college and shit. The stuff I want to do doesn’t require a diploma of any kind. B’s just making me do it because he society has convinced him it’s important.”

Tucker’s PDA alarm went off. “And that alarm means if we’re not out the door in five minutes, we’re gonna be late.”

Everyone groaned as they pushed away from the table and collected their belongings. The walk into town was filled with music discussion. Bart and Conner mostly listened and took note of recommended bands and musicians. Sam tended to know the most obscure stuff, but Tim knew some foreign bands from his time in Europe that no one else had heard of.

The walk was, thankfully, not disturbed by ghosts, but Danny’s ghost sense did go off several times.

“Didn’t your parents make a device that can track ghosts?” asked Tim the third time he complained. “Would that help you locate them?”

Danny hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe, I’ll have to see if I can find it. My parents stopped using it when it kept zeroing in on me. It was too loud for stealth use, though, and loudly went off anytime I was in range. And it didn’t work great for a 3D environment. So Tucker and I would have to develop a new display that can tell me if one is above or below me.”

“I should be able to help, too. You know how good I am with computers.”

“If I can find the device or blueprints, I’ll take you up on that.”

Not long after, they had to say goodbye at the entrance to Caspar High. Dash and his friends also arrived at about the same time. The group stared at Danny, but didn’t move to interact.

“Think they’re still overshadowed?” asked Conner, mirroring Tim’s thoughts.

“God, I hope not,” said Danny.

“But knowing our luck…” Sam trailed off.

Tim sighed. “Keep your distance as much as possible.”

“I know, mom.” Danny rolled his eyes. The school bell rang and he adjusted his backpack strap. “Gotta go. Have fun at the library.” His sarcasm was very evident and he hugged Tim.

The gesture surprised him and his return hug was slightly delayed. “I think I’ll find more than enough to amuse me there.”

With a quick goodbye, the trio rushed off before they could be late.

“So,” said Cassie, “Sam and Tucker seem to have a ton of ideas about you and Danny.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Danny and I only met in person less than forty-eight hours ago.”

Bart nudged him. “And yet you’re already sleeping in the same bed and giving each other goodbye hugs.”

“I do the same with you guys.” He pulled out his phone to check the location of the library. “Come on, let’s just get to the library. I want to see if they have a digital subscription to the local paper we can use.”

Tim didn’t get much schoolwork done that morning, but he did find out Danny was originally named Inviso-Bill by the press and immediately began planning ways to prank him with that knowledge.

For the rest, he compared what was reported vs what had actually happened with past ghost attacks. One thing was clear, Danny needed much better PR. Hopefully being seen working with the Young Justice would help. And maybe Sam would actually listen if he tried to give pointers on how to manage public perception.

Shortly after noon and before Tim could even pretend he was about to switch over to school work, his phone rang.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?”

“Tim! Do any of you speak Esperanto?”

“Uh… I don’t. Let me ask Bart.” He lowered the phone to ask.

“Esperanto? What’s that?” asked Bart.

“I’ll explain later,” said Tim. Back into the phone, he added, “Doesn’t look like it. Why? What’s going on?”

“So… You remember that wolf ghost with the collar? Walker’s goons are after him, too. I’m not sure why since he only speaks Esperanto. I got him away from both them and my parents. Think you can keep him safe until school is out? If I miss any more class I’ll be grounded until graduation. Senior graduation.”

Tim gestured to his friends to pack everything up. “Yeah, sure. Where are you right now? I’ll have Bart meet you first and the rest of us will follow.”

Danny gave him directions to a forested area behind the school which Tim relayed to Bart. As soon as the group was out of the library, Bart rushed ahead to Danny.

Over the phone, Danny let him know Bart had arrived. “Oh, and Tucker just got here, too. Excellent. He can speak Esperanto as well. Looks like he’s explaining things to big and hairy over here.”

“Great. We’ll be there soon as we can.”

“Can we fly there?” asked Conner.

Cassie nodded. “People would just think we’re more ghosts.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Superboy and Wonder Girl were seen in town just last night. No.”

Conner stuck his tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.”

“Relax. It’s not far. GPS has us in the general location in, like, ten minutes.”

“Fine, fine,” sighed Cassie. “We’ll be good.”

Tim elbowed her with a grin. “Now, I never said you had to do that.”

Conner laughed. “So, what is this Esperanto language, anyway? I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a conlang based on European languages that’s supposed to be easy to learn. The idea was to make a sort of common language for Earth without promoting a single language like English. It hasn’t gained a lot of traction, though. And if Bart doesn’t know it, then it likely won’t.”

“Huh, weird. Why do you think a werewolf ghost know an Earth-based conlang?”

“Oooh! I bet it’s because he’s the manifestation of some teenage girl’s OC,” offered Cassie.

Tim laughed. “Or maybe the OC of one of the people to create Esperanto.”

Conner shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. He’s from an alternate future where Esperanto did take off and a werewolf virus spread among humans.”

The ten minute walk was filled with more and more outlandish theories ending with the wolf being the reincarnation of Jesus who was trying to bring humanity together through the reinstitution of a common language like in the pre-Tower-of-Babel days.

At the edge of the woods, Tim nudged Conner. “Can you hear where they are?”

“Yep. Follow me.”

And then it was less than two minutes before Tim could see them. “Oi! Danny!” he called out with a wave.

Danny flew over to them and hugged him. “Thank you so much! You’re gonna save me so many detentions.” He grabbed Tim’s hand and pulled him towards Tucker and the ghost. “Tim, this is Wulf. Wulf,” Danny said while making eye contact, “Friends.” Then he slowly pointed to each person and said their name.

Tucker rolled his eyes and repeated the information in Esperanto. Tim recognized his and his teammates names and many of the words felt familiar. Likely since he knew or was learning a few European languages.

“So, will we just hang out here for the next few hours until you get out of school?” asked Tim.

“Yeah. It’ll only be about two and a half hours. That okay? Then we’ll go back to Sam’s place. We can hide in her basement.”

“We’ve hung out in worse places for longer,” said Bart. “This is practically cozy. And me or one of the others can run into town for food and supplies. Anything you want from your parent’s place? Food? Snacks?”

Tucker grinned. “If you could get some jerky, that’d be great. No meat at Sam’s.”

Danny laughed. “If we think of anything else, one of us will text it to the group chat.”

An alarm buzzed on Tucker’s PDA. “We’ve got to get back now.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll fly us back. Bye Tim, everyone!” Danny picked up Tucker and flew away, turning invisible before he was more than a few yards away.

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Next

So, more banter and more plot! We're almost starting to get somewhere! This marks roughly the halfway point of the episode. And the arc is almost 25k words. This is why I take forever to publish anything. It always spirals out of my control. Even this section, I originally opened with them in the library. But then I remembered I wanted to have Sam paint Conner's nails and that led to me adding over 900 words to the beginning.

I no longer do tag lists for this fic, but if you make your way to the subscription post, you can set it up so you get notified when this updates.

[polkadotpenguin16]

The Five Stages of Grief: Depression

A/N: Thank you to everyone for your patience in waiting for me to finish this chapter! Getting myself to write has felt like pulling teeth as of late. But we’re here! And we’re almost done!! Let’s get angsty…

Pairing: Sonny Carisi x female reader

Tags: you read the title, right?

Word count: 2,410

Previous parts: Prologue | Denial | Anger | Bargaining

Also posted on AO3.

You and your friend were lounging on the couch, devouring a carton of chocolate chip mint ice cream, while watching what felt like an endless Lord of the Rings marathon. “I don’t remember this being so long,” you mused as you licked chocolate bits off your fingers.

“That’s cuz it’s the extended edition,” she replied with her mouth full of ice cream. “It’s the only way to watch it. You want to feel like you’re walking to Mordor in real-time.”

You smirked and shook your head at her logic. This was nice. Getting lost in Middle Earth was a welcomed distraction from inner turmoil.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Your friend shifted herself on the couch to look at you. “When are we gonna get your stuff?”

You looked at her confused. “My stuff?”

“Yeah, from your apartment? You can stay as long as you like. Just wanna know if we need to rent a truck or something.”

“Um…” You hadn’t thought about what exactly your next steps were. If you and Sonny were over, that meant moving out of the apartment. It meant packing up the pieces of your old life, the one you’d built with Sonny, and moving on. And that was terrifying.

“Hey, hey, no pressure here!” She reassured you as she saw the panicked look on your face. “We don’t need to plan anything tonight. Let’s just watch the movie. I think Aragorn is gonna do something badass in a minute, anyway.”

It was late when you finished all the movies. Your friend went to bed, but you couldn’t sleep. The gravity of your situation was weighing heavily on your chest. It was truly over. You believed only a day ago that this was what you wanted. 

This was what was best for you and Sonny. 

You had thought you would both move on to better things—people better suited for each other. And Sonny probably would. But you realized that you didn’t want better.

You just wanted Sonny.

You missed him. A lot. Missed his laugh, his smile, the way his brows scrunched together when he was concentrating. You missed laying your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. And all those times Sonny was working until 3 in the morning or disappearing to help Amanda, you had missed him. And you never let him know. “It’s fine” was what you always said. But it wasn’t fine. You missed him, needed him, wanted him, and you never told him.

“What have I done?” You were curled up in a ball on the floor. Your cheeks felt cold from the tears streaming down them. There was no coming back from this. You walked out that night. You ignored him. You said some unforgivable things. You ruined everything.

Spiraling into a black hole of despair, you felt hopeless. You resigned yourself to the darkness, hoping it would engulf you. Your heart ached in your chest. What hurt more than knowing it was over, was thinking of how much pain you caused Sonny. Beyond leaving that night, you turned down every attempt he made to reconcile. He was trying. All you’d wanted for so long was for him to try, to choose you. And when he did? You practically slapped him in the face with it. He deserved better than that.

But what could you do? The damage was done. Sonny wasn’t going to reach out to you again. Not after what you said. He was done trying.

Perhaps now was your turn to start.

You could reach out to him. But what would you say? What do you even tell someone after you broke their heart? You grabbed your phone and started composing a text. Your hands shook as you typed and retyped the message. You weren’t going to get all your thoughts into one text. The right thing to do would be to tell him in person. Maybe he’d give you the grace you so rudely denied him.

Hi. I’d really like to talk to you if you’re willing to listen. But I’d understand if you aren’t. Would you meet me at Prospect Park on Saturday?

After several minutes of working up your nerve, you hit send and put your phone down. You waited anxiously, silently praying he would reply. The suspense was killing you. You imagined this was how Sonny felt when you ignored him, and that made you hate yourself even more.

You don’t know how long you sat in the dark when you heard your phone ping. You couldn’t breathe as you picked it up and saw a new message.

3pm work for you?

You let out your breath and immediately replied.

Yes, I’ll be there. Thank you.

He’d accepted your olive branch. Maybe there was still a chance for the two of you. Even if there wasn’t, at least you would be able to apologize face to face. He deserved that. Whatever the outcome of Saturday, you had the chance to make things right.

It was nearing 10 o’clock, and Sonny and Amanda were the last ones at the station. Once he finished writing this report, he could finally leave. But he’d been stuck rewriting his last paragraph at least a dozen times. He was distracted thinking about you. By some miracle of God, you reached out and said you wanted to meet. About what you didn’t mention, but you were ready to talk to him. That was more than he’d ever expected.

But he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Maybe you just wanted to coordinate moving out, transferring the lease, and such. There was still a big chance you were over forever, and it emotionally destroyed him. Coming to grips with losing the love of his life had been incredibly depressing. You’d been the glue keeping him from coming apart at the seams. The thought of going through his life without you in it was incredibly painful, but nonetheless, a truth he was facing. However, he couldn’t help the optimist in him from thinking there was the tiniest sliver of hope that things could all work out. But the ball was in your court now. He’d apologized and tried his best to fix things. It was up to you now on how you both moved forward.

Sonny heard Rollins sigh from her desk in relief. “That’s it, I’m calling it a night. And so should you.” She got up and put on her jacket. “You know, I could use some help painting my apartment. It might cheer you up. I’ll even splurge and order wings with the pizza.”

“Sorry, not this weekend,” he replied, still staring at his laptop, trying to get his thoughts into his report so he could be done for the day, too.

She was surprised by his answer. He was never one to turn her down. “Really? You got something funner to do than manual labor and eating mediocre food with your friend?” She remarked sarcastically.

“No, um…I’m going to talk with my girlfriend on Saturday.”

She looked at him perplexed. “What’s there to talk about? I think she was loud and clear on what she thought of you.”

“She reached out to me, Rollins. I just want to hear her out.”

“Seriously? What could she possibly have to say for herself? Have some self-respect.”

Sonny shook his head and went back to typing. He wasn’t in the mood to bicker. He’d had enough arguing to last him a lifetime.

Undeterred, Rollins walked towards his desk and leaned down to look at him at eye level. “Listen, dating a detective…it’s not for everyone. It means missed birthdays and canceled dates. A lot is expected of us, and we sometimes miss out on things. She’s shown you she can’t cut it.”

“Well, maybe I can’t either.” Sonny sat back in his chair and slapped his thighs. He’d been having doubts about his career for a while. The pressure and horrors he faced were starting to get to him. He wasn’t sure if he had it in him to continue this path.

“What do you mean? Of course you can. You do it every day.” She was taken aback by his comment. She hadn’t noticed how disillusioned he’d become in the past several months.

“I don’t wanna be like those old timers who wind up bitter and alone. There’s gotta be more to life than…this.”

“Come on, you don’t mean that.” She came up to him and patted his shoulder. “This is our lives. It’s what we do. And you’re not gonna be alone, we’re partners.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never thought about calling it quits?” She huffed at his ridiculous question. “No, really. Day in and day out, dealing with the worst of the worst, you’ve never wanted a change?”

“You’re a cop, Carisi. It’s in your blood. What else would you be doing?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I could…” He took a second to ponder the possibilities. “I could be a consultant and sit on my ass all day getting fat and rich. Or become one of those hipster photographers who drives around the country taking pictures and living in a van. Hell, I could move to the DA’s office! Now that would be a change.” Sonny laughed at the thought. He’d played around with the idea of using his law degree, but never seriously given it any weight. Maybe this was his sign to start.

“Wait a sec…” She analyzed his face trying to decipher if he was genuinely considering this. “You can’t be serious.”

“Well, maybe. My law degree’s been gathering dust. Might be nice to get some use out of it. You know, a fresh start.”

Rollins’ demeanor changed. Her body tensed and her face became serious. “So, you would just throw away everything you’ve worked for? And for what? To make your girlfriend feel better about herself?” Her speech sped up as she tried to get all her thoughts out.

“Hey, leave her out of this.” He said defensively but calmly. “If I decide to go, it would be for me.”

“That’s not you, Carisi. The stuffy lawyers, the politics? You’d hate it there!”

“I haven’t even done anything! What are you getting so upset about?” Sonny couldn’t gauge what was getting her so upset. “I’m just talking about trying to make a better life for myself. Thought you’d want that for me.”

She looked at him like he had three heads. Her cheeks flushed red, and her jaw clenched tightly. “Be happy about you leaving? How stupid are you?”

Sonny stared at her in disbelief. He was completely perplexed on how this conversation turned from confiding in his friend to having his character bashed.

“And what about all of us here?” She gestured to the empty desks of the detectives who’d already gone home. “You would just—you’d pack up your stuff and ditch us? You said you were my partner, and you—you’re gonna walk out on me?” Rollins was becoming irate, stumbling over her words.

“You’re acting like I’m moving to the other side of the world!” He was at the end of his tether. His whole life, he’d been living for others. The never-ending pressure of having to be everything for everyone was too high. He couldn’t seem to do right by anybody. So why did he even try? “There’ll be other detectives. You’d be just fine.”

“No, I need you, Sonny! I need you here beside me!”

The room went deathly silent. It was finally clear to Sonny what she’d been trying to say. After all this time, this was how she really felt?

“When did that change, Amanda?” He asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. Hazy memories of a trip to West Virginia and long forgotten heartache were returning to him.

“Don’t tell me you never felt anything between us.” She stared down at her shoes, unable to look him in the eye just yet.

“Not since you made it clear there wasn’t.”

“I was…not in a good place back then,” she tried to explain. She finally looked up to meet his gaze, needing him to understand her reasoning in her eyes.  “I knew you were looking for something serious and committed, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“So you thought you could string me along until you were?” Sonny shot up from his chair and crossed his arms. He could hardly believe the words coming out of her mouth. His whole world felt turned upside down. He thought she was his friend who cared about him. He wasn’t sure what he believed anymore.

“Oh, please, you weren’t strung along,” she scoffed at his suggestion. “You’re telling me you weren’t happy to help me out? Hang out with my kids? I never asked you to do any of that—”

“No, you just expected it,” he snapped back. The voices of you and Bella echoed in his ears. “I wanted to help you, Amanda, to try to make your life a little easier. I did those things because I thought—”

“Anyone could see you were way more invested in your relationship with me than with your own girlfriend,” she sharply pointed out, her words cutting deeply into his heart. “We’re practically a family already, Carisi.”

Sonny stood there defeated. How could he have not seen all this? “You were my best friend…” he said breathlessly. Any fight left in him had evaporated. “Guess I was mistaken.” He closed his laptop and started collecting his things.

“Sonny, if you would just hear me out—”

“No, I’ve heard enough of this.” He put on his coat and made his way out. “It’s late, I’m going home.”

“Would you stop?!” She exclaimed in frustration, trying to get his attention. “You’re gonna give up your career, your life, for some girl who doesn’t even appreciate you? I would never make you do that, Sonny—”

But he was already walking out the door. He felt empty inside. He had already lost his love, and now this betrayal from someone he had once called his best friend was more than he could handle. All that he’d done for Amanda was still somehow not enough. He needed to start thinking about himself. He wasn’t sure of what his future would look like, whether you would be in it or not. Bella was right. 

He’d have to hope for brighter days ahead.

[late-to-the-party-81]

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Thank you @metalbvcky. NPT for @mrs-illyrian-baby @doasyoudesireandlive @km-ffluv @labella420

🍓 How did you get into writing fanfiction?

As a teen I was a voracious reader and tried to write my own stuff based on other books I'd read. I also loved ST:TNG and wanted dearly to be in an episode and had lots of the books. I wrote my own ST stories with OC's (gratuitous self inserts), but they never went anywhere. In my late teens I read some Xena fanfic on the internet. But that was it for a great number of years.

At the beginning of 2021 I sat and watched the entirety of the MCU films in chronological order (I'd seen most of them before and was mainly a Thor gal.) I fell down the Stucky rabbithole. Deep. I decided to look up fanfic. AO3 was now a thing! I wrote (a very poor) Stucky fic and here we are, almost 3 years later

🍇How many fandoms have you written in?

As my ST stuff never made it further than my parent's old PC in the days of dial-up, I won't count it.

I've written for MCU, various Chris Evans and Seb Stan Characters and one fic for RWRB. I've been toying with writing a one-off Criminal Minds fic as a gift for a friend.

🍈How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Three in July since I first published anything on AO3.

🍎Do you read or write more fanfiction?

I try to balance it out. If I have a period of hyperfocus writing I try to then go through a period of reading. I read on both Tumblr and AO3, so try to keep that even as well.

🍌What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Getting betas to pick me up on tense changes, overuse of words and rogue commas. Reading more. Practising. Writing outlines for longer stories so I don't go off-piste.

🍑Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

Getting bored half-way through a long fic, especially if the first few parts haven't had a lot of interaction. Which is why I try to write the whole thing before I start posting.

🍍 What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Engineering courses at MIT and, for a separate fic, Violet wands, including the ways to use them and the differnt types of accessories you can use with them. I even watched a Youtube video.

🍉What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

Any comment! Anything that gives me the validation I need!

🍐What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

I wrote a transformation into Tsum-tsum fic that was both cracky and smutty. That's pretty niche.

🥭What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Action scenes. I loathe them. I'm constantly wondering if they are long enough, and make sense.

🍏What is the easiest type?

Short things that are either PWP or fluffy slices of life.

🍑Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

Mainly on my elderly laptop on G-Docs, and in every moment I can - normally afterwork before dinner and on Mondays when I don't have work.

🍋What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

There are a few characters and ships I haven't written that I'd like to. And I suppose I'd like to write a proper long, over 100k fic at some point.

🍇 what made you choose your username?

When I made my AO3 account I felt as though that at 40, and only really starting in Fandom in this way, I was late to the party, so that is who I became.