#it still counts even if she's not the main focus

[macfrog]

backspin | bbf!frankie

surprise! we're taking a quick detour to fuck around with our brother's best friend again. what else is new.

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x fem!reader summary: you try to get even with frankie. it works. warnings: reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, enemies to lovers, mention of throwing up, alcohol consumption, cursing, oral, more dickhead frankie and more sassy reader word count: 6.3k

part one: rack 'em | main masterlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💙

So, you fucked around with Frankie.

It’s no big deal, right? It was just a one-time thing. There was tension, you guys relieved it. Scratched an itch. Served a purpose. You still fucking hate the guy, and he still fucking hates you.

Nothing’s changed.

Right?

Mal sprays wine all over the kitchen table when you tell her. Gargles a, Sorry – fuck – sorry, through what little of the alcohol is left in her mouth.

You wipe your face clean in the crook of your elbow. It’s in your fucking eyelashes. You blink the room back into focus, and – “Jesus, Mal!”

Dark droplets teeter around the edge of the table, threatening to plunge straight down onto your mom’s chair cushions – thus damning you to her very own personal hell for all eternity. You can feel the flames licking at your feet already.

Your best friend rips a sheet of paper towel and drags it over the wood – white bleeding violet at the first swipe. “Why’d you tell me as I was taking a sip?”

“I didn’t think you’d fucking hose me down,” you hiss, taking the soaked crumple from her hands.

“You didn’t think I’d be a little surprised that you and Catfish Morales hooked up? Are you fucking ser–? Actually, you know what? I’m not that surprised.”

You glare at her from the sink, upper lip curled.

Mallory Bennett has been privy to your every thought since you were six years old. Hand in hand, arms swinging as you marched into first grade together.

Most days, you barely have to open your mouth – one flinching expression, one flash of eye contact, and she can parrot your own thoughts back to you.

Francisco Morales going down on you two nights ago is the first thing you’ve ever had to confess to her. It’s the first thing she never saw coming.

“Shut up,” you breathe, eventually thawing and sweeping over to your chair. The table sticks to your arms when you sit back down.

“There’s a lot to unpack there, alright? A lot of tension. I mean, you gotta fuckin’ feel it. You two hate each other’s guts! And you’re both single, and you’re only here for two weeks. And – he’s Santi’s best friend. It’s just…it’s the perfect storm.”

Another exasperated sigh passes your lips. You settle back, eyes closed, and lift your palm. “Enough. I’ve heard enough.”

“You wouldn’t’ve told me if you didn’t wanna talk about it. Was he good?”

“Mal.”

“Was he?”

“I was drunk. I don’t remember.”

“Bullshit.” Her face screws up; the gold hoops wobble from her ears. “Like hell you don’t remember. Tell me.”

Your eyes slip from her over to Ange. The old pup pushes herself to her feet with a huff, her joints stiff and bones frail. She moseys over to your side. You scratch the back of the dog’s neck, shrugging to Mal.

“Maybe if you hadn’t cheated your way to a free round of drinks, I’d remember enough to share.”

“Fuck you,” she snorts, voice rounded by her wine glass. “Maybe that just means you gotta do it again – sober.”

You scoff.

Angie looks up at you – watery eyes blinking, tail slowly fanning.

Mal’s already recounting the time Frankie snitched on the two of you for raiding your mom’s makeup bag. She waves her hands in the air, eyes bulging.

Do it again. The thought actually makes you want to laugh.

You and Frankie – you and Catfish, hooking up again. As if the first time wasn’t a total mishap, the biggest mistake in judgement you think you’ve ever made.

He drove you home, he made you come, he left.

One nil, right? You have one up on him. You got yours, and he probably went home and jerked off to the thought of it. Alone in his room, tongue licking at the corners of his mouth where he could still taste your release.

You won.

You won, against Frankie Morales.

“…and then fuckin’ – Pope tried to help us tidy it up, remember? He was scrubbing the hell outta the lipstick on the mirror. But that asshole – Frankie,” she seethes, “he went downstairs as soon as your mom came home. As soon as she…And he fucking ratted!”

She growls, balls her fists. Screws her eyes tight shut like the enraged eight-year-old she was back then. She still has the same little crease between her brows. “What the hell got into you that night? We hate him, junior!”

Ange slumps to the floor with a sigh.

“Me too, girl,” you mutter to her, twirling the base of your glass. You look back up at the crazed woman opposite. “I don’t know,” you insist. “I was drunk, we were on our own…It just happened, alright?”

Her shoulders roll in a shrug. She lifts her glass to clink the neck of the bottle against the rim, purple wine spilling in a swirl. “Maybe it’s the start of something.”

You scoff. “Mal. Come on.”

“I’m serious. Perfect storm.”

“Nope. No storm. Stop that.”

She jabs a tipsy finger in your direction. “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you messed around with your arch fucking menesis– arch fucking…with – with Frankie, and you just – still feel nothing for him?”

“No,” you admit, “I feel plenty for him. I hate his fucking guts. I used to wish every birthday that he’d disappear. One time in church, when Father Joseph told everybody to bow their heads ‘n pray, I actually asked God to kill him for me.”

“Not Father Joseph!” Mal shrieks, grinning. “He was so fucking hot, by the way, for a dude with no hair. When the sunlight caught that cueball just right…that was a real fucking miracle. Goddamn.”

You bat her snicker away. “Me and Frankie used to brawl so bad that our moms had to separate us,” you continue. “I had to sit in the front seat if we drove anywhere – and that still didn’t stop him! He’d reach around the headrest and flick my fucking ear.”

“You gave as good as you got, though. I’m surprised he can even still get hard, the number of times your foot…” She swings her leg and kicks your thigh softly. “He was an ass, I know.”

“He was an ass then, he’s still an ass now. That’s all there is to it.”

“Okay,” Mal concedes. Her dark, glossy hair surfs around the lip of her wine glass when she leans in. “But you wouldn’t’ve told me unless it was still on your mind. ‘s all I’m saying.”

You throw yourself back with a quick, angry shake of your head. Your tongue flicks over your top lip.

“All I’m saying,” she repeats, holding her hands up.

But I won, you think – in a petulant little whine. Like you could shake your fists and stamp your feet at the same time. You got one up on him. He – he made you…

He made you come. He saw you. Felt you. Tasted you.

He knows what you sound like, whimpering his fucking name. Drunk on him, begging him not to stop. And now, the image of him fisting his cock over the memory of it feels less like a victory, and more like –

Another fucking loss.

You have no idea what he looks like, coming undone. No clue what his fragmented moans sound like as they tear from the bottom of his throat and rain down over you. You don’t know the weight of him in your hands, the wet slip of his tip as he leaks over your tongue.

Mal’s onto something new. Taken by a Facebook post from some girl you went to high school with. Biggest head I ever saw on a fucking baby, she mutters, wincing and then sprinkling a handful of salted peanuts on her tongue.

Frankie’s cocky smirk clouds over the sight of her at the opposite end of your kitchen table.

Francisco fucking Morales. The asshole wins again.

All at once, you hear his rotten little jeers in your ear – curbed painfully by his middle finger searing across your lobe. You feel his heavy palm on your skull, fingers scrunching roughly into your scalp.

A temper boils between your ears, heavy over your head. It feels juvenile, as if it’s armed with a Barbie in one fist and a juice box in the other. Sunken and wallowing in shame and rage, red-hot waves which wash over you as Mal cackles at some video on her phone.

You feel Frankie’s hands around your legs; the flicks of his hair tickling the inside of your thighs. The swarm of butterflies deep in your belly as you watched his figure swagger back across the street to his truck.

Loss after loss after loss. Each one wearing a satisfied smirk and a Standard Oil baseball cap.

Each one staining deeper than red wine in varnished oak.

You grit your teeth.

Frankie –

fucking –

Morales.

Santi floats the idea of a barbecue. Because of course he fucking does.

He says his place is too small, too many neighbors in earshot – and as long as Ms. Teller takes both hearing aids out, she won’t even know it’s happening.

“Just the guys ‘n us,” he chirps. “You, me, Will, Benny…Fran-kie…?”

You gag down the line. Body instinct whenever his name is mentioned, worsened by the latest developments in your relations. Ange glances up from her spot beneath the oak tree – her milky fur stark against the velvet green grass.

Santi chokes on a laugh. “Mal, too, if that helps with the Catfish thing.”

You lean the phone on your collarbone, sitting forward to apply a second coat of polish to your toes. The red gloss shines in the early morning light. “He is not welcome in my house.”

“First off: not your house. Second –”

“My house for the next eleven days.”

He says your name flatly. It sounds like a door being slammed. It shuts you up as though you’re nine again. “…Second: he won’t be in the house. He’ll be in the backyard.”

“You owe me,” you protest. “For ditching me the other night. I’m cashing in, Santiago. You want a cookout? No Frankie.”

Your brother sighs. “And how am I supposed to explain that to him, hermana?”

“Don’t,” you tell him. “What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.”

Santi mutters something incoherent, though you know from the razor-sharp tone of voice that it’s no compliment. Still – he’s a man of his word.

Eventually he agrees: no Frankie at the barbecue.

The store is chilly, plucking goosebumps along your arms.

You round the aisles, scanning your list. You’ve been battling with a janky front wheel which has squealed and veered off-course at every fucking turn. It almost mowed over an elderly woman in the meat aisle.

You’ve cleared most of what Santi told you to get. Drinks, ice, buns, meat, corn on the cob. He wanted to use Mom’s dinner plates – but that, you countered, runs the risk of them being scraped, chipped, or worst of all, smashed.

That’s not a risk you’re willing to take. So you’ve piled in some paper plates and plastic cutlery, too – just to be on the safe side.

The cashier cuts a familiar figure at the checkout: her navy apron and full-cheek grin. She’s a staple sight from your childhood – a pair of dimples and sweet giggle trailing after you as you’d follow your mom’s skirt back out to the parking lot.

Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands when she notices you approaching. “Well, would you look who it is?” she sings.

“Hey, Pol,” you say, fanning yourself with your scrawled shopping list. “How you doing?”

The belt jolts your supplies closer to her bejeweled fingers.

“Same as always, honey. Rockin’ and rollin’. What brings you back to town?”

“Housesitting, dog-sitting…Santi-sitting. Mom and Dad are on a cruise.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she says, nodding. “She told me last week. Caribbean, right?”

You nod, sucking a deep, unenthused breath in.

Pol hums, smiling to herself as she clicks the barcode for your hotdogs into her computer. She begins telling you what her granddaughter thinks of second grade – her two times table and the tadpoles they’re keeping in class.

Your eyes sweep around the store as she chats. Everything looks the way it always did, a time capsule from the nineties. Speckled floor and fluorescent lights; placards hanging overhead which sway each time the great glass doors pull open.

Baskets of fruit and veg lined alongside a lawn set on offer. Beside that, heaps of flowers and stacked planters. Beside those, a discarded shopping cart. And beside that –

Frankie fucking Morales.

Well – the silhouette of him. It’s pretty bright outside. But you’d recognize the outline of that dumb baseball cap anywhere. He’s talking to one of the assistants.

You hand Pol the cash Santiago gave you, and she trades it for a receipt. Dumping your bags back into your cart, you nod to her in thanks and stalk off towards the sliding doors.

Frankie tosses and twirls a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The assistant is telling him about some big college football game.

Your grip tightens on the janky-wheeled cart. You feel your skin begin to heat; prickling all over your arms, flushing down between your shoulder blades. Gathering somewhere south of there.

But you walk by him with purpose, choosing to ignore that warm feeling. Choosing to ignore…him.

He doesn’t turn. Thankfully.

The doors grant you exit and you give your cart one good shove across the threshold, back out into blinding daylight and sticky heat.

“Alright, man,” Frankie’s voice calls from behind. “Good talkin’ to ya.”

You nail your eye on the car. It’s, like, fifteen paces. You can make it fifteen steps without having to deal with him, right? If you take longer strides, it’s probably more like ten.

Ten steps, and then you’re in the sanctuary of your car. You don’t have to see, speak to, or deal with him.

So why are you slowing down?

You’re slowing down. You are. You’re borderline fucking loitering. Quietly hoping he’ll notice, catch up, maybe talk to –

You click the unlock button. The car beeps in response.

Five steps out. The front wheel is rattling. You’re doing your best to ignore it.

Four.

Three.

The wheel spins, flitting like a confused compass needle, and stops dead in the opposite direction. The cart hurtles out of your grip for less than a second before you recover it and haul it close to your car, cursing under your breath.

But a force – stronger, steadier – reaches around your body and takes hold of the thing. It guides it back to course. A force which, when it speaks, sounds a shit ton like –

“Woah, lil Santi,” Frankie mutters, and your chest leaps.

You freeze in your tracks. His weight is still around your back. He’s right fucking there, when you turn to look.

The brim of his cap bumps against your head. He steps back with a smirk on his face. He’s so fucking smug, you could slap him. “You tryna cause a goddamn accident with that thing?”

You pull a disingenuous smile. “Hey, Fish. Ever tried minding your own business?”

He feigns a wounded sound and clutches his chest. “Ouch. I’m just looking out for ya.”

“Feels more like you’re pestering me.” You pull on the door handle and slot the first bag along the backseat.

Frankie lifts his chin, peering in at the contents. The star-spangled plated, the dripping bags of ice. “Having a party?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.

You yank the bag from his sight, spinning to push it alongside the others. “Nope.”

He crosses his arms. “Sure looks like you’re having one.”

“Well, I’m not.” You slam the door and turn back to him, staring blankly.

“Forgot,” he sniffs, “you need friends to have a party.”

“Hilarious. Those shit jokes how you make all your friends?”

He nods, impressed. Pouts his lips like an annoying little fish. Suits his stupid fucking nickname. “Then why’d Benny call ‘n ask if I’ll be at Pope’s parents’ tonight?”

Shit. Fucking – Benny.

You sigh, eyes rolling closed. Your fingers massage your temples. “It’s not…it’s…”

“Cookout, right? Yeah. That stings, baby. No call, no text. You owe me, remember?”

“I owe you jack sh–”

“Two drinks,” Frankie clips, holding a finger up to shush you. “Three, if you count saving your car from one hell of a scratch.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and then give voice to, “It’s a small gathering of friends, and – now you, apparently.”

He sways forward, bumping the cart into your hip. “You need me to bring anything?”

You heave it straight back at him, hopefully hard enough to bruise. “Tranquilizer gun, if you’ve got one.”

“Can get something even stronger, if it’s a party you’re after.”

Your eyes thin. “Wouldn’t be my mom’s favorite for much longer if she found out you were doing coke in her backyard.”

Frankie smiles. That trademark Catfish grin. “I’ve done worse in her kitchen, baby.”

He’s so goddamn cocky. So full of it, it makes you want to scream. He studies you, eyes shadowed by his cap. His hair flicks out around his ears, dark curls doused in golden sunlight.

When your eyes trace the shape of his jaw, the wiry hair above his top lip – the faint flicker of a memory glows across your skin.

The weight of his hand on your stomach, pinning you to the bed. The bristling feeling ghosting the inside of your thighs. Your desperate wet, his tongue covering ground across your body like claiming territory.

Every shade of wrong. Ignoring every atom in your body – betraying every version of yourself for ten minutes of euphoria. He brought every numb nerve under your skin to attention, the second he knelt between your knees.

But he’s looking at you now, the same way he did the other night. It’s boyish and dangerous. A naked match just waiting to fall.

Maybe you’re waiting for an excuse to drop it.

Frankie gives his cap a quick tug, and makes off for his truck.

“See you at seven, Garcia.”

Daylight melts into dusk and with it, goes the sharp sting of summer. A pale blue rolls across the horizon, covering the yard in a hazy sort of chill. A relieving breeze, like satin over newly burned skin.

You’re still fucking sweating.

“Are you going to help me, or you just gonna lie there and text your girlfriend?” you call across the yard.

The dark figure spilling over the edge of the hammock grunts in response.

“Santi.”

Your brother groans, rolling free from the marigold fabric. He strides across the lawn, swinging an arm down to ruffle Ange’s ears. “Not a girlfriend,” he says, slipping his phone into his back pocket. “She’s…she’s more of a…”

You lift your hand. “Not something I need to know.”

He laughs and looks at the spread on the table. He lifts the corner of a tricolor napkin, straightens a plastic fork. The foil over the hamburger buns crinkles. “We did a good job. Looks great.”

“We?” You scoff, slapping his wrist away. “Yeah, me and the fucking dog, more like.”

“How much did it all come to? The food and shit?”

You shrug. “Like, forty dollars. I don’t know.”

“Gave you sixty. Where’s my change?”

You frown, hands on your hips. “If you don’t know how to budget properly, that’s not my problem.”

“And if you don’t know when to just lie and say you spent it all, that’s not mine. Twenty bucks, kid.” He holds his hand out, fingers beckoning.

The squeal of the gate interrupts, followed by a barrage of voices. Will and Benny and Mal and – as you lean back to watch them parade through the yard, you spot the figure of Frankie at their heels.

“Pope?” Will calls. “Pope, do me a favor. Remind me which one of us threw up at Busch Gardens that one time. Remember – right after we rode Gwazi?”

Santiago chuckles. “I remember Mallory wearing her raspberry slushie.”

Will guffaws in Mal’s face.

“I spit up!” she protests. “I spit up in a flowerbed. I was not wearing my slushie.”

“You were fluorescent pink the whole day,” Will says. He slings an arm around your shoulders. “You remember, lil Santi?”

You frown. Yeah, you fucking remember.

You remember being forced to sit between Frankie and Mal the entire way home. Santiago got dibs on the front seat by pretending he was carsick, and Mal had to sit by an open window so she didn’t stink your dad’s car out with all her raspberry-flavored puke.

You and Frankie bickered the whole journey. Both absolutely certain that the other was leaning too far over your seats. Your dad vowed he’d never let you both in his car at the same time, ever again.

“Mhm,” you grit, shooting daggers at your best friend.

She mouths a Sorry, and then places her salad bowl in the middle of the table. “Enough about throwing up. I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

The boys spend twenty minutes arguing over how the barbecue works, before a single bit of food is cooked. You and Mal watch from the table, sneaking Ange slices of cheese and giggling when Will and Benny break into their fifth argument of the night.

Santi and Frankie take charge, shoving the brothers out of the way.

Pope passes over the meat, while Frankie mans the grill. He lifts his cap and wipes his brow with his bicep, giving his head a shake as he flips burgers and turns sausages.

And no, you’re not watching him. You’re focused on Mal and her story about some guy from work. Or – it might be a guy from her yoga class. The instructor, maybe? You’re not sure. Frankie just flapped the collar of his shirt and the hem lifted, exposing a sliver of his tummy.

You’re not watching him, though.

He runs his tongue along his top lip, focusing on the sizzle and spatter of the grill. His arm tenses, turning the tongs over and over. Wide shoulders stretch when he reaches for a plate.

He’s laughing quietly at whatever Santi’s babbling about at his side. His eyes are stuck on the barbecue in front of him. His fingers twirl around the tongs again. He never looked so lean and so broad and so fucking different, all at once.

Weird different. Good different?

You feel your cheeks flush with heat. This time, it’s not so much anger, as it is –

Oh, shit.

Mal gets up for a refill at the same time Santiago jogs inside to grab more meat. You and Frankie are alone on the patio – Will and Benny are kicking a ball for Ange to chase on the grass.

Morales turns, and you instantly stare down at your beer. You take a forceful swig as he approaches.

“Hotdog?” he asks, holding a plate down to you.

“Huh?”

He glares at you and scoffs. “Are you dumb? Hotdog.” He slips it onto the table in front of you.

You squint at the grill marks, and then squint up at Frankie. Puzzled and…offended, at the same time. You come back to your body with a jolt. “Why the hell are you–? Have you laced it with something?”

He shoots a glance over his shoulder, tongue between his teeth. “No, I haven’t fucking laced it with anything. I just figured you should have the first one, since you put all this on for us. But – Jesus, give me it.”

Your fingers lock around the paper plate when he tries to steal it back. For all that he’s a dick and might actually try to poison you – you’re fucking starving.

You figure you can stomach the poison.

Frankie sighs. He lets go. “I’m tryna be nice, alright? You know nice?”

“I know nice. You’re not it.”

“Shut up and eat your hotdog, lil Santi.”

You mimic him in a squeak as he strolls off, shaking his head. Still, the second he’s back at the grill, you rip into the hotdog.

Frankie stays at the opposite end of the table for the entire meal – closest seat to the barbecue, and furthest seat from you. There’s too much chatter, too much hilarity being thrown back and forth between you for either of you to kick up a row.

Probably better for the guys’ sakes, but – you want to fucking row.

It’s like a hit, now. A rush of electricity, any time Frankie looks at you for longer than it takes his face to twist into a grimace. You’re hunting for ways to ignite something – anything. Looking for an excuse to drop that naked match and set the whole thing alight.

Because it’s fun, when you’re in the heat of it. Feeling his eyes on you, as hot and angry as flames. Being suffocated by the smoke of it all; breathing in less and less air and more…him.

And, anyway – who knows you better than the one person who pisses you off the most?

As the sun is snuffed by the heavy hand of dusk, you disappear to a quieter corner of the yard. Tucked between two thick beech trees, you throw yourself into the hammock – one leg draped over the side, swinging idly through the night air.

A beer bottle balanced on your tummy, the round base seeping a chilled ring into your shirt. The swish of leaves overhead and the annoying midges at your ears for company.

That is – until the sound of footsteps over crisp grass, and the creak of an old, splintered garden chair disturb your peace.

Frankie adjusts his cap, flatting his fringe beneath it, and sits back. “You never change, do you, Garcia? Still the same little longer you always were.”

You hold your hands out, gulping back beer – and glee. “Can I fucking help you? I’m minding my own business.”

“Thought you might want some company.”

“Not yours, dickhead. You think I’m way the hell over here ‘cause I wanted you to come annoy me?”

He hums, picking at a flake of paint on the armrest. “Sure wanted me to annoy you the other night.”

“Alright,” you clip. “Cheap shot. You been practicing that one all afternoon?”

“Since I saw you at the store.”

You roll your eyes.

Frankie slips a cigarette from its pack and lights it, tipping his chin to blow a white cloud to the sky. “You’re too much fun,” he tells the stars.

You squint through the dark, staring at the glowing cherry. “What?”

“You. You get so pissed, so easily. Always have.”

“Well, you antagonize me. Always have.”

His cheeks lift. It’s something softer than a smirk, still laced with too much attitude to be a smile. “That’s ‘cause you were always around. Everywhere Santi went, there you were. Closer than his shadow.”

“Well,” you glower, “’s what happens when you have a big brother. You’re void of love; I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I get it,” he says. “It just got fun to mess with you, after a while.”

“Uhuh,” you take another swig, “so is that what you’re doing? Messing with me?”

Frankie’s shoulders jump. “You tell me. There were two of us in your room that night.”

You swing your legs down to the grass. It’s brittle under your socks when you stand, still focusing on the end of his cigarette. “Damn, you really can’t shut up about it, can you? How many times have you tugged one to the thought of it?”

“Tugged one,” he snickers, but he seems nervous – watching as you approach. “What age are you?”

You push his knees wider, slotting between his thighs. “Which part does it for you? What sends you over the edge?”

“Come on, lil Santi,” Frankie says, averting his eye. “You’re embarrassing yourself now.”

One knee up, resting on the crease of his jeans. You lean forward and nudge his hip, lay your hands gently on his shoulders. “I bet you still hear me in your dreams.”

He scans up and down your body, lingering on your bare thigh. “Not – not gonna work, kid,” he promises, shaking his head. “You still annoy the fuck outta me.”

“Right, right.” You pinch the pale stick from between his teeth. “’cause nothing’s changed, yeah?”

His head sways in agreement. He’s distracted, watching as you lift your hand to your mouth.

You smile down at him. “’cept you know how I taste now, so.”

You slot the damp end of the cigarette between your lips and suck. Sharp, acrid heat sails over your tongue and down your throat, filling your chest in one inhale. You cough a little, batting the smoke as you blow it out.

“Tastes fucking disgusting,” you croak. “How can you smoke these?”

Frankie’s eyes never leave your lips. “You get used to it.”

You take another draw, letting the smoke soar through the space between you. “Gross,” you say, and prop the cig back between his lips. “Just like you!”

“Sh…shut up,” he groans, adjusting in his seat.

“Make me.”

But he doesn’t bite. Doesn’t flinch. He just stares back, rolling the smoldering stick between his thumb and finger. Running his tongue along his teeth.

You spill the last of your beer onto your tongue, cocking an eyebrow at him, and push from his lap.

You make it no more than five steps, before that same weight from the parking lot is around your shoulders.

He pings the cigarette somewhere in the grass, and grabs onto your elbow.

“Fran– Jesus – Where are we–?”

He drags you through the dull dusk to the other side of the lawn, ignoring the click of the motion sensor. You’re thrown through a wooden door onto cold concrete before the yard light floods over you.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Weak slivers of moonlight illuminate each tool hanging from the wall. The fairy lights outside lose their battle against the darkness the second they creep through the window.

Before you can sling something mocking at him, Frankie has you pinned against the wall.

“You want me to make you shut up?” he growls, teeth grazing your neck. His fingers slip behind the waist of your shorts, plucking at the button. “I’ll make you shut up. Make you shut up all goddamn night.”

“Frankie,” you gasp, grabbing hold of his shirt. You push on his chest, walking him backwards over to the workbench.

The thing shudders when he rocks against it.

“The fuck are you doing?” he murmurs, watching as you kneel before him.

“Getting used to it,” you reply.

You pull his belt apart, loosen the fly on his pants, and pull until they’re low on his hips.

Frankie holds onto the bench with a white-knuckle grip. He lays his hand over the crown of your head, rubbing small circles. A laugh slips across his tongue. “This what you’ve been thinkin’ about?”

You ignore him, instead focusing on the solid shape in his underwear.

His hips flinch when you drag your palm along it. He’s hard already. He hisses at your cold fingers on his stomach, tensing as your knuckles skim below the elastic.

And then…he’s in your palm. All of him. Frankie fucking Morales.

You’re trying not to think too deep about it.

Your fingers wrap around him, barely meeting around his width, and you slip him from his boxers.

His cock springs free, swaying once, twice – then settling to the right.

Your mouth fills with saliva. Suddenly – there’s no way not to think too deep about it.

He’s…he’s big. He’s thick; smooth and sculpted, veins trailing around his shaft. It’s not like you ever considered what he’s walking around with before, but looking at it now – you can’t believe it’s him.

Without thinking, you lean in and kiss him all the way down to the hair at his base. A wet trail, lips curving around the size of him. You run your tongue up and down, circling the tip and toying with it.

Frankie cups your cheek. “Pretty little mouth,” he utters. “Put it to good use, huh?”

You don’t need him to ask twice.

You sink down on him. Every inch of him – every aching, choking inch. Your jaw slackens to take him; nails digging into his thighs when he bumps the back of your throat.

“Oh, shit, baby,” he hisses. His hand comes down on your head a little too heavily.

You yelp and pull back, gasping when he slips out. “Prick,” you breathe, closing your lips around his tip again.

“Just too sweet with it,” he murmurs, guiding himself back across your tongue.

You suckle on him, using your hands to pump the inches your mouth can’t take.

Frankie’s head tips back, panting at the roof. His hips thrust to meet your movements. “Feels so – goddamn – good,” he moans, and you hum with glee.

You take his balls in your hands, kneading them as you work your way lower. He’s so deep in your mouth that it makes your eyes water. Each slip of his tip against the back of your throat makes you gag, pulls a lewd, muffled sound from your chest.

It shouldn’t feel like this. You shouldn’t be enjoying it this much. But he’s falling apart under your fingertips, he’s unwinding right before you. He’s whispering your name, begging you not to stop. Just like that, just like that, just like that. Oh, fuck, just like that.

It’s addictive. Now that you know how he looks, how he feels, you’ll never go back to before. When the most thrill he gave you was a burning temper; feeling your pulse jump in your throat with rage.

This – whatever the fuck this is – is all you know, now. Pulling threads from one another, watching the way they unravel. Watching each other unravel. Flashes of eye contact, salt and slick and sex dripping from every secret word.

Frankie’s hips jerk. His cock spasms.

You don’t want him to come down your throat. You don’t want him to climax when he’s too deep for you to taste it.

You want him all over – your lips, your tongue, dribbling down your chin. You want to mix him with your saliva and swallow; warm, salty, Frankie.

He got his taste. Now you want yours.

You bring your hands up to his thighs, purposefully pushing back off him.

His grip loosens, and he looks down. Brows low and close, eyes blown wide like he’s higher than any drug could take him.

He’s as addicted as you are.

“My mouth,” you mumble, head of his cock circling your glistening lips. “In my mouth.”

“Yeah?” he says, and the weight of his cock slaps on your bottom lip. “That where you want it, baby?”

“Mhm.” You wrap your lips back around him.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” Frankie spits, laughing. “Shit – just like that. Yeah, that’s it.”

Three, four more soaking strokes of your tongue and he’s twitching again.

You pull back only enough to rest his tip on your tongue, feeling the pulsing heat as he comes. Watching the way his face tightens, the pull of his brows as it overcomes him.

His eyes stay locked on you. Your fluttering lashes, your puffy, glossy lips. He fills your mouth and then some – semen spilling from the corners and dribbling down your jaw. And the sound he makes – this broken, scattered moan, bordering on a fucking whimper – is fucking perfect.

Frankie’s hand locks at the base of your skull, holding you steady until he’s done. His cock slips from your bottom lip. He gives one last satisfied sigh, petting your head as you stroke him slowly, tenderly – swiping kitten licks at the dripping mess of him.

“Fuck,” he moans, letting his eyes close over. His weight slumps against the workbench. “The fuck do you spend so much time yapping for when you’re that good with your mouth?”

You hum in amusement, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. He’s softening, but still a decent size. Still a weight to it that makes your cunt clench around nothing.

One last little kiss, and you tuck him back into his boxers. You drag the back of your hand across your chin.

Frankie holds his hands out, and you pull yourself up. He fixes himself into his jeans, turning away to do up his belt. He had his cock in your throat two minutes ago, and here he is pretending to be shy.

He turns back around, half disappeared to the dark shed. “I, uh…I don’t want you to think that I came here just to…just for that.”

Your tongue dabs at the inside of your cheek, all salty. “Then this is awkward, ‘cause that’s the only reason I hadn’t kicked you out yet.”

He laughs, dropping your gaze. “You…” he shakes his head, “…are such a little shit, you know that?”

It’s nicer than he would’ve worded it half an hour ago. But still – having an exchange with Frankie that doesn’t involve spitting insults or jagged glares, warms your blood in a way that’s new and…unsettling.

“We should probably…” You toss a thumb over your shoulder, eyes flitting to the string bulbs outside. “We don’t want them wondering what’s…you know.”

He nods and strides over to the door. The wood squeals against concrete as he pulls it open.

The summer swirls around you again, sweetening the stuffy heat of the shed. Mal’s voice surfs through the breeze – she’s still arguing over the Busch Gardens story.

You make to step out, and Frankie’s arm halts you.

He opens his palm. “Even,” he tells you. “We’re even.”

He seems sure of himself. Sure of you. He looks you in the eye and doesn’t blink.

You smirk. Your hand slips into his, letting him shake your fist once. You stare straight back at him.

“We’re just getting fucking started, Francisco.”

[wigglesdtuff]

A bit of a different one today for a DTIYS on Twitter!

[void-kissed]

Me: “for how cool I think robot stuff is you’d think I’d have made a self-insert who’s robotic by now. Like, yes I have Xiara but she’s data and while that’s similar it isn’t quite the same, she’s digital but not mechanical-”

..Also me, remembering Citri exists:

[dreamcubed]

i think he knows | theodore nott x reader

song; i think he knows [taylor swift] pairing; theodore nott x ravenclaw!fem!reader genre; not actually unrequited love, s2l, fluff word count; 3,1k timeline; half-blood prince warnings; swearing, theo's lack of communication summary; you had fancied the mysteriously quiet slytherin boy for as long as you could remember (since first year), and, quite frankly, your best friend was sick of you going on about it without ever making a move

masterlist

"wanna see what's under that attitude."

—————————————

Truth was, you knew you weren't special for having your attention caught by Theodore Nott. Despite his almost entirely anti-social personality and apparent grumpiness, many girls longed after him. You completely understood, of course; there was something enticing about a potentially misunderstood quiet boy, and the idea of becoming the one person they show affection to was self-indulging.

The fact of the matter, as your best friend, Cho, frequently pointed out, was that you had never even so much as spoken to him. You hoped he at least knew you existed, from the times you had been praised in class for your assignments, but you had no proof that he even recognised your face.

"Babe, it's sixth year now- that's over five years of you fancying Nott," Cho said as she caught your gaze lingering over to the Slytherin table again. It was your second day back after summer, so you had a lot of long-distance admiring to catch up on.

"Okay, so?" you replied, not even bothering to move your eyes away from the object of your desires.

"So, it's time that you do something about it," she continued, shovelling scrambled eggs on to both her plate and yours, "Do you really want to leave Hogwarts without any dating experience?"

You finally prized your eyes away from Nott, opting instead to meet your concerned best friend's gaze, "I don't think it's the sort of time to be thinking about dating."

"It's especially the time to think about it," she said, "Our lives may be shorter than we think they are - don't die with regrets."

You sighed, unable to argue.

"Plus, it really wouldn't hurt to have some positivity around here. You can feel how much heavier the air is than before."

That, you had to agree with. People were still laughing in their friend groups throughout the hall, sure, but there was a lingering sense of dread that had stuck with everyone since the Triwizard Tournament and reign of Umbridge, and it was only getting worse.

"Maybe," you finally concluded, picking up your fork to dig into your breakfast.

"You have nothing to lose," she added, "Your social circles are completely separate, and, you're pretty as fuck."

You couldn't help but smile at her compliment, "Even if that's true, I'm completely inexperienced."

"It's not that hard."

"Yeah, says the girl who had both Hogwarts champions drooling over her. No offence, babe, but you're biased."

"That could just have easily been you if you'd ever spoken to either of them."

"Whatever you say."

Cho sighed, deciding to not argue any further with you on the matter - for now.

***

It was amazing how potions went from your least favourite subject to your favourite after Slughorn took over from Snape. The lessons were no longer a fear-inducing chore, but instead a time of laughter and enjoyable learning: the way it should be.

Harry Potter especially seemed to be flourishing in the subject, much to the dismay of Hermione Granger, who usually took the spot at the top of the class. You were glad to not be a part of their constantly hectic lifestyles, although you had almost been when Cho had a thing with Harry the year prior.

Regardless, your main focus during potions was the gorgeous Slytherin boy who sat across the classroom from you - another of the best students in the class. Your seat was stationed at the perfect angle to sneak glances at him without raising too much suspicion: you definitely hadn't ensured that a few weeks ago during the first lesson or anything.

"Shit, I forgot the anjelica," you muttered to yourself, gazing at the list of ingredients in front of you as you had been wondering why your potion was a navy blue when it was meant to be a royal blue.

You left your station to head over to the ingredients cupboard, where you gazed at the arrangement before you. It was organised alphabetically, so your eyes shifted to the top left hand corner where you spotted the jar that you were after.

You stood on your tiptoes in attempt to reach it, but after failing, you huffed, going to pull out your wand instead. That was when a hard chest pressed against your back and a large pale hand grasped the very jar that you were in dire need of. You turned around quickly only to spot the guy you had fancied for an unhealthy amount of time - and his face was shockingly close to yours. His scent swarmed your nostrils, making your knees weak.

He raised an eyebrow at you.

Coming to your senses, you cleared your throat, "Uh, I need some of that anjelica- please."

His eyes shifted down to the jar in his hand as he stepped back slightly. The added distance meant that you could finally breathe.

Nott presented the jar to you, and you gratefully took it, thanking him in the process. As you went to open it and take what you needed, he left the cupboard and went back to his station, which was in view of where you were. You remained shocked for a few moments: did he not need some of the herb? His eyes locked on to yours from where he now was, making you panic and quickly depart the cupboard with the jar still in your hand.

Rowena, how did Cho expect you to ask him out when you couldn't even make eye contact with him?

***

The following morning, you were sat at breakfast with Cho and your other fellow Ravenclaws, busy discussing the latest ancient runes essay that you had to complete. Just as you began to discuss the difficulties you had with writing the conclusion, you were interrupted by the sound of owls from above. The morning post had arrived.

Typically, you didn't get anything. Maybe the occasional letter from your mother, but that was about it. So, you were mildly surprised to see an envelope drop in front of you.

It was a very small envelope: that was the most confusing part. You couldn't think as to why your mother wouldn't send a normal-sized letter, but you opened it nonetheless. Only, the contents of the envelope made your stomach drop as dread filled your bones and veins.

A tiny note was enclosed, that wasn't addressed or signed, and it simply read "I see you staring at me". Instinctively, your eyes looked up and over to the Slytherin table, where Theodore Nott sat, evidently having been watching you this entire time. His face was completely blank, until he arched an eyebrow at you - clearly a favoured expression of his - which made you begin panicking.

"Oh, fuck," you mumbled, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Only Cho, who was sat next to you, heard your profanities, and turned to you with confusion adorning her face. "What is it?"

You passed the note over to her, still gazing at Nott who now had the slightest of amused smirks tugging on his lips.

"Oh, fuck," Cho mimicked you, finally making you prize your eyes away from the boy, "Yeah, I see why you're panicking."

"This is going to socially ruin me," you sighed, "He'll probably tell the other Slytherins and then they'll bully me until the end of my school career."

"Okay, catastrophising much?" she said, gently slapping you, "Nott like never talks, I highly doubt he divulges his friends with personal information."

"Yeah, his personal information!" you whisper-yelled.

"I mean, maybe he likes you back."

"What?"

"He doesn't indicate at all in that note that he's mad at you for staring at him."

"Yeah, but, don't you think he'd go about it in a different way if he returned the feelings?"

Cho paused to think for a moment, "No, actually. Maybe he was pretty sure that you were staring at him, but needed to confirm it. So, he wrote that note to you, intentionally not signing it, to see if you would immediately look to him after reading it."

Your eyes widened with realisation, "Wait, are you saying I could have still saved myself, but instead instantly looked in his direction like a fucking idiot?"

"Y/N," she hit your arm, "I think this is a good thing. Try and be more optimistic."

"Easy for you to say."

***

You felt sick to your stomach as you arrived at your potions lesson that day, keeping your head down as you took your usual seat. Normally, this would be when you'd steal your first glance at Theodore Nott, but the thought of seeing his face again paralysed you with fear.

"Y/N, relax," Cho whispered to you, but her words were futile. Relaxation seemed impossible in times like this.

"Today, class, I want you to pair up with someone you don't usually work with," Professor Slughorn announced, "By that I mean, someone who isn't from your house and doesn't sit on your table."

You mumbled a curse under your breath as people began to move around, looking up to try and locate the nice Hufflepuff girl you sat next to in history of magic. Only, Cho had already disappeared to her side, and they were chatting happily with each other. Rowena, this was bad. You didn't have the biggest social circle.

"Excellent, everyone seems to be in pairs," Slughorn spoke, making you furrow your eyebrows.

Looking to your side, you were shocked to see that Nott had silently sat next you, and was gazing at you intently.

"Hi," you squeaked, flashbacks of breakfast flooding back to you.

He gave you a curt nod, and turned back to face the front.

You didn't listen to a single instruction that Slughorn gave after that, as your brain was much too pre-occupied with concepts of social suicide and humiliation. Was Nott just trying to torture you?

"L/N," a deep voice snapped you out of your thoughts. That was it. The first time you had ever heard Theodore Nott speak.

You turned to him, only to realise that everyone was standing up and getting ingredients - had you really been that spaced out?

It must have been evident in your facial expression that you had no idea what was going on, because Nott opened his potions book and pointed at the potion that you were making. You looked at the ingredient list, but you couldn't say that you were actually taking any of it in.

Clearly, Nott was aware of this fact, and let out a small sigh that made you feel exceptionally guilty. Regardless, he walked over to the ingredients cupboard himself without another word and soon returned with everything you needed. In the meantime, you had snapped out of your stupor and set up the cauldron and cutting board. You didn't want him to completely regret pairing up with you.

What potion were you even making? You finally processed the words on the page: amortentia. Your eyes widened.

This might not end well.

***

You had never thought being a remarkable potion maker - who was collaborating with a fellow remarkable potion maker - would be a bad thing. It turned out that it very much could be when the steam from your concoction wafted up your nose, overwhelming your senses with the smell of intertwined chestnut and paper money. As if the faint scent of Nott that you picked up on whenever he walked past didn't make you nervous enough, now it filled the entire room, since you certainly weren't the only capable potion makers in the class.

"Alright, class, it seems that we have all about finished," Slughorn clapped his hands together, "And, now, for my favourite part."

You had a feeling you knew what was coming.

"Miss Parkinson, what does the potion smell like to you?"

"Uh," the girl flushed a bit, her eyes flicking towards Draco Malfoy, "I don't know how to describe it - clean, expensive. Like a really fancy fragrance."

"Fascinating, most fascinating," Slughorn replied, his eyes gleaming, "Mr Nott, what about you?"

Were you already about to hear him speak for the second time? He hadn't spoke throughout the entire potion making process, which, to be honest, you were kind of glad for.

"Coconut," he said simply, "And vanilla."

Your breath hitched.

You used coconut shampoo.

Your favourite perfume was a vanilla scent.

"That is most interesting!" Slughorn grinned, "It is fascinating to hear what enraptures you all the most!"

You didn't realise that your eyes had glued on to Nott as Slughorn proceeded to ask other students what amortentia smelled of to them until the Slytherin boy turned to face you and raised a singular eyebrow.

You felt warm underneath his gaze.

He smirked.

***

You packed up at the end of the lesson, preparing to return to the Ravenclaw tower until dinner time along with Cho who was still across the room. Just as you were about to walk over to her, Nott grabbed your arm and jerked his head in the direction of the door. It was a silent invitation to walk with him somewhere, from what you could gather. You turned around to tell Cho where you were going, but she had already disappeared, much to your confusion.

The first few minutes of the walk were in silence, and the awkwardness was killing you. It was only once you had emerged from the dungeons that Nott finally said something.

"You aren't subtle."

A lightning bolt of shock and nerves shot up your spine and made you stiffen up as you walked. You managed to force out a mumble of, "I know."

He shrugged, "It's cute."

Had you heard him right? No, you couldn't have. You just weren't used to hearing his voice.

"I thought you were shy," you muttered, but he heard and chuckled a bit.

"No. Just quiet."

You clutched your books close to your chest.

"You're shy," he added.

You nodded.

He chuckled again, and silence ensued for another couple minutes.

"Hogsmeade," he said.

You hummed in surprise.

"This weekend. Me, you."

Your jaw dropped - did he mean a date? A Hogsmeade invitation had certain implications among Hogwarts students.

But he didn't clarify, not once on the way to the Ravenclaw tower.

***

"Relax, Y/N, you'll be great," Cho assured you, wrapping your scarf around your neck since the autumn breeze was nippy in Scotland.

"I don't even know if it's a date."

"Of course it's a date," she shook her head, "Everyone knows what inviting someone to Hogsmeade means."

You grimaced, "I don't know if Nott is the most up to date with social norms."

"Regardless, he's not a fucking idiot."

You gave your best friend a small smile.

"Now, he'll be waiting for you in the courtyard, so hurry!"

***

You had only ever seen Theodore Nott in casual clothing from afar before, catching a glimpse of him before he disappeared amongst the other Slytherins. But, Rowena, you had been missing out on quite an indulgent sight.

How could a man make such a simple outfit of a knitted jumper and baggy jeans look so good? You didn't understand it, unable to feel anything but self-conscious in your own ensemble.

He didn't smile at you as you approached, but instead gave you a curt nod. And, as you both began walking towards the carriage, the silence was truly beginning to suffocate you. So, you reached inside the crevices of your brain to talk about something - anything - and finally landed on informing him of every little thing that had happened to you that week. It wasn't particularly interesting, mainly because you were omitting the details about him, but it meant that the quietness was filled with your babbling.

Which was how it went the entire journey to Hogsmeade.

At first you weren't sure he was listening, but when you paused mid sentence for a moment, he raised his eyebrow at you and gestured for you to go on. So you did.

"...and honestly, I don't know why Cho thought that was a good idea," you sighed as you both stepped out of the carriage, "She nearly set her hair on fire!"

You heard a small chuckle erupt from the boy next to you, making you look over to him in surprise.

"What about you? How's your week been?" you asked cautiously, nervous to see his reaction to a question that required a wordy response.

He shrugged.

It was frustrating.

You chewed your lip for a few seconds, "Look- I get you find communication difficult. But, please, I need more to work with here."

He gave you a surprised expression, and stopped walking, making you halt too. Nott looked around pensively, completely unreadable.

"Nott?"

He looked at you and scowled, "Theo," he corrected.

"Theo- what are you doing?"

Letting out a loud exhale, he grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to a more hidden area behind some of the houses. When you turned around, you realised that he was right in front of you - to the point that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

"I'm not good with words," he mumbled.

You hummed in agreement.

"I don't like talking to people," he continued, "But I want to talk to you."

Your breath hitched, "Really?"

"I'm not an idiot- I've known that you've fancied me for years."

You felt your ears heat up.

"But this year, when we started back, I-" he paused, trying to piece together the words in his mind, "I saw you, and it was different than before. I wanted your attention."

A smile crept on to your face as you gazed up at him.

"So, I know I need to work on being open - but I want to try. For you."

You don't know where the wave of confidence came from, but you found yourself pressing your lips against his and combing your fingers through his hair. He gasped at the sudden contact, but quickly reciprocated the affection until you pulled apart.

"Rowena... I always thought you knew. I can't believe I was right."

"Horrifying?"

"A little," you nodded, "But it's obviously worked out."

————————————————

masterlist

written; 03/06/2023 —> 15/08/2023 published;17/08/2023 edited; —/—/——

[springtyme]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐍𝐨 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 ♡

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Spencer Reid x f!reader || Series masterlist || Series playlist

Main masterlist || can also be read on ao3 || Next chapter

summary: After having worked for the BAU for two years, you have seen and experienced a lot, but after a series of murders of young married couples, you’re asked to do something that you never had thought you would have to do; going undercover, as an expecting, married couple, with Spencer Reid.

word count: 5.8k

warnings/tags: Eventual smut! (18+, mdni!) Undercover as a married couple. Pretend pregnancy. Language. Drinking. Angst and fluff. Slow burn. Mutual pining. Coworkers to lovers. Not set at a specific time, but definitely somewhere in the early seasons. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mention of canon-typical violence.

The table is a bit sticky, and the music could be better, but the drinks are decent and you’re just so happy to finally be out with your friends after what feels like forever. Your job is demanding, and being an FBI agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit means that your work-life balance is almost non-existent. But tonight, you don’t want to think about the gruesome crime scenes or the long hours spent profiling and investigating violent crimes, all you want to do is have a good time and catch up with your friends. And finally having an occasion to dress up and feel cute isn’t bad either.  

Closing your glossed lips around the straw of your Strawberry Daiquiri, you take a long sip and let the sweet, icy drink cool your throat as you sit back in your chair, listening to the lively chatter of your friends. Michaela and Piper are going back and forth about some new movie that you haven’t had the time to watch yet, and you and Janelle, who is sitting across from you, are laughing at their antics as you listen to their debate with half an ear, but you focus shifts as Janelle gently nudge your shin under the table.

“That guy is totally checking you out,” Janelle says with a playful raise of her eyebrow, gesturing towards the bar with her eyes, as she takes a sip of her Mai Tai, while Michaela and Piper continue their discussion about whether the final plot twist of the movie was too predictable or an actual  genius twist.

You can’t help but let out a tired giggle and roll your eyes as you follow Janelle’s gaze, glancing over to the bar and catch the eye of a man who is indeed looking in your direction, but you quickly turn back towards your friend again. “I thought we had decided to just focus on having a girls’ night out tonight, no boys allowed?” you say, giving her a knowing look. She shrugs her shoulders and smiles jestingly.

“You can still appreciate the view, even if you’re not looking to buy,” she teases, taking another sip of her drink. You shake your head, laughing at her antics, but you can’t help but look over in the direction of the guy at the bar again. He catches your eye and flashes you a charming smile. He is cute, sure, but not cute enough for you to want to do anything about it. 

But to be fair, he could be the cutest guy in all of  D. C. and you probably still wouldn’t do anything about it. You don’t really have the time or energy for dating right now and you are not really currently in the mood for meaningless sex with a stranger either. 

Your job consumes so much of your life already, and you’re content with just focusing on your career, or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Sure, it would be nice to have someone to share your life with, but what you’ve learned over the last few years is that most guys don’t understand the demands and emotional toll of your job. They either can’t handle the long hours, and all the time you have to spend on cases, or the gruesome details of your work, or they simply can’t comprehend the darkness that you have to face on a daily basis. And so, you’ve built up walls to protect yourself, to shield yourself from potential heartbreak or disappointment.

“You sure it’s not you who he’s checking out?” you ask, trying to shift the focus of the conversation away from your lack of interest in dating. Janelle laughs and shakes her head. 

“No, I think he’s definitely into you,” she says, nudging you playfully. 

“Well, I’m not interested, so he is all yours, Nell,” you reply, taking another sip of your drink as you give her a playful wink. Janelle just laughs and shakes her head.

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just here to have a good time with my girlies,” she says, raising her glass in a toast, making Machaela and Piper forget their never-ending debate and cheerfully join in. 

Just as you’re about to raise your glass and join in the toast, your phone buzzes in your purse, interrupting the moment. You reach into your bag and pull out your phone, seeing Hotch’s familiar number flash across the tiny screen. 

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you say with a sigh, standing up from the table giving your friends an apologetic smile. Your friends nod understandingly, knowing that your job always comes first as you excuse yourself from the table and head to a quieter corner of the bar to take the call. You feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you, knowing that your night out with your friends is about to be cut short. 

“Yeah?” you answer, putting the phone to your ear, not bothering with any formalities as you know that Hotch is going straight to the point when he calls you outside of office hours.

“Sorry to interrupt your Friday night, but we’ve got a new case, high priority,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, his tone serious and professional, but you can also hear the tired edge in his voice. It can’t be easy being the Unit Chief and always having to be on call, but you respect him for his dedication to the job. “I’m afraid I need you and the team back at the office ASAP.” 

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” you say, already mentally preparing yourself to switch back into work mode.

“Great, thank you, agent,” Hotch says, and you can hear the gratitude in his voice before he hangs up. You can only imagine how shitty it must feel to have to call in your team on a Friday night only a few hours after everyone has left the office. But that’s the nature of the job, and you have accepted it a long time ago, even though it means sacrificing your personal life and plans at a moment’s notice. 

With a deep breath you take a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the disappointment of having to leave your friends behind. As you head back to the table to break the news to your friends, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt for having to leave them hanging. They all look up at you expectantly, sensing the change in your demeanor. “I’m sorry guys, I have to go. Work…” you trail off, your voice apologetic, you hate having to disappoint them.

Michaela and Piper exchange sympathetic looks, while Janelle just nods understandingly. “It’s okay, we understand,” Janelle says, giving you a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry I have to cut the night short,” you say, feeling the weight of disappointment settling in your chest. 

“Hey, your job’s important, we’ll catch up another time,” Michaela says, standing up to give you a supportive hug. “And we are really proud of you, just so you know,” she adds, giving you a reassuring smile as she pulls back from the hug.

Suddenly you almost feel like you could cry. You spend so much time burying your emotions and focusing on the job that it almost feels overwhelming to be reminded that you have people outside of work who love and care about you. “Thank you, Kay,” you say, smiling back at her. You hug the others and say your goodbyes, before you quickly gather your things and prepare to head out and find a cab. 

· · · · ·

Spencer is abruptly pulled out of his slumber by the sound of his phone ringing. The book he had been reading sprawled open in his lap. The softness of the armchair and the long week of work finally caught up to him, and he must have dozed off. He blinks groggily as he fumbles to grab his phone. He squints at the screen, momentarily disoriented from being woken up so suddenly. Seeing it’s a call from Hotch, he quickly answers, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Hello?” Spencer mumbles, trying his hardest to sound awake and alert despite his groggy state.

“Reid, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we have a new case, high priority. I need you and the others back at the office ASAP, we will have a briefing as soon as you’re all here,” Hotch’s voice comes through the line, terse and serious, but also tinged with exhaustion. 

Spencer’s heart sinks at the news, knowing that his plans of spending a quiet Friday night at home, recovering after a hard work week is now dashed, but he quickly pushes the book aside, already mentally preparing himself to switch into work mode.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he replies, removing his glasses that he had swapped his contacts out for earlier in the evening. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, the sense of urgency now kicking in.

“Thank you, Reid,” Hotch says before ending the call, leaving Spencer to gather his things and head out to Quantico without delay.

As he makes his way out of his apartment and towards his car, he can’t help but feel a sense of disappointment at having his night disrupted once again by work. He had really been looking forward to a quiet night in, and finally enjoy a break. 

Spencer watches the city lights pass by in a blur as he begins to make his way out of D. C., the reality of his job sinking in once again. He knows that as a part of the BAU, his work is never truly done. The cases are always waiting, the criminals are always out there, and the demands of his job are always pressing. And while he loves what he does and finds fulfillment in helping to catch the most dangerous offenders, and having his mind challenged, there are days when he longs for a sense of normalcy, for a break from the darkness that seems to follow him everywhere he goes.

With a deep breath, he steels himself for the long night of driving and work ahead, knowing that he may not see his bed again for a while. 

· · · · ·

As you arrive back to Quantico, you rush into the FBI building, quickly making it through the security check. The heels of your stilettos click loudly against the floor as you hastily make your way to the conference room. The short, tight dress that had made you feel so confident just a few hours ago now makes you feel exposed and vulnerable as you walk through the sterile hallways of the building. 

You try to pull down the short hemline of your dress, as you push open the heavy door to the conference room, but it doesn’t change the fact that most of your thighs are on display and that your tits are almost spilling out of the low-cut neckline. It is so rare that you get the opportunity to dress up and feel sexy, so you might have gone a little overboard with your choice of outfit for a simple girls night, or at least that is how you feel now as you’re about to walk into a room full of your colleagues, who aren’t that used to see this side of you, and are about to hear about the details of a violent crime case.

As you step into the room, you see that Derek and Spencer are already sitting at the big round table, waiting for the rest of the team to show up, Hotch is probably in his office getting more details for the briefing before the entire team is here. They turn their heads in your direction as you enter, and you can feel their eyes lingering a moment longer than necessary, seemingly surprised to see you in such attire.

“Damn, princess, you clean up well,” Derek says with a smirk, giving you a once-over. “You had a hot date tonight or something?” 

You roll your eyes at his comment, knowing that he always loves to tease you about your personal life. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Morgan,” you reply with a raised brown and a playful smile, taking a seat at the table and crossing your legs and adjusting your dress as you sit down. 

“Of course, I would like to know, that’s why I asked,” Derek chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “You come in here looking like that, and you expect us not to ask questions? I just need to know, is he more handsome than me, should I be worried?” he teases, earning another playful eye roll from you.

“Can’t a girl just want to look good for a change, without it having to be for a man?” you shoot back.

“What do you mean, for a change? You always look good,” Derek counters with a charming smile, before he turns to Spencer, who has been awfully quiet this entire time. “Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

Spencer looks up at Derek and then at you, a faint blush rising to his pale cheeks. His hair is slightly tousled and he is wearing his glasses, making him look even more adorable than usual. You don’t know if it is wrong of you to think of your colleague as adorable, he is a grown man and exceptionally capable of his job, you respect him a lot, but you just can’t help but find Spencer extremely endearing. 

“You don’t have to answer that, Spence,” you quickly interject, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable. You know that Spencer can be a bit awkward when it comes to social interactions and you don’t want Derek’s teasing to make him feel even more self-conscious.

You and Spencer have become good friends over the two years that have passed since you joined the BAU team, you and him are the youngest agents in the unit. You have always admired Spencer’s brilliant mind and his ability to remember almost everything he reads as well as his sweet, quirky personality. You have a mutual respect for each other’s intelligence and dedication to the job. You have also noticed the way he sometimes gets lost in his thoughts or stumbles over his words when he’s nervous, and you have always tried to support him and make him feel comfortable in social situations.

But despite being friends and good colleagues, there’s also always been a slightly awkward tension between you and Spencer, at least on your end, it’s not like it’s there all the time, but you do feel it from time to time. You are not even sure where it comes from or why it’s there, but there’s something about Spencer that can make you feel slightly flustered and unsure of yourself, if you ever stop to think about it. It’s probably just because you admire him so much and don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of someone you respect so deeply.

“No, it’s okay,” Spencer says, his usual rambling tone coming through as he speaks. “You do look very nice, tonight. Wait, no, I mean, Morgan is right you always look nice, but you also look real nice tonight,” he stammers, stumbling over his words as he tries to explain himself. 

You can’t help but smile at his adorable awkwardness, grateful that Derek’s teasing didn’t faze him too much. “Thank you, Spence,” you say, giving him a kind smile and reaching out to pat his arm reassuringly, hoping to ease his discomfort. “I appreciate it.”

“Oh, so when it is him you appreciate it, I see how it is,” Derek jokes, earning a playful shove from you. 

“Shut up, Morgan, you know that I love you,” you say with a laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at him, which makes him laugh, but you don’t get to continue your banter as the rest of the team starts to filter in, Hotch enters the room with a stack of case files in hand, his usual stoic expression in place as he takes his seat at the head of the table to begin the briefing. 

“Thank you all for coming with such short notice,” Hotch starts, his voice authoritative and commanding. “We have a new case that just came in and it’s classified as high priority. A series of brutal murders have been reported in Northern California. Local police have finally reached out to us for assistance after multiple cases after two new victims were found earlier in the day. They have all been double murders, with the assumption that the victims have been stalked for a while beforehand, and are then killed in a very specific and violent manner. All have been young married couples, all under thirty, and in all of the cases, the female victim has been between five and nine months pregnant.”

As Hotch continues to outline the details of the case, you can feel the weight of the seriousness of the situation settle in the room. You are usually able to compartmentalize your emotions and focus on the task at hand, but the thought of innocent lives being taken in such a violent manner always hits a nerve and you feel a chill run down your spine as Hotch describes the details of the case, the gravity of the situation sinking in. This is a disturbing and horrific case, one that hits close to home for you as a woman. 

As Hotch finishes the briefing he turns to Spencer. “Reid, I would like to have a word with you in my office. The rest of you, start looking into the evidence and see if we can find any leads or patterns that may help us track down the unsub.”

You watch as Spencer nods in acknowledgment, it’s clear that he is a bit confused about being called into Hotch’s office alone, as he follows Hotch out of the room, leaving you and the rest of the team to start digging into the case files and evidence.

· · · · ·

“Please take a seat,” Hotch says as he gestures towards the chair in front of his desk, as Spencer follows him into his office. Spencer feels slightly anxious as he takes a seat, his eyes searching Hotch’s face for any clues as to why he’s been called into his office while Hotch takes his seat behind the desk. Hotch clears his throat before speaking, his tone serious and professional. “I have something to ask you to do, and it’s not a small thing,” Hotch begins, his eyes fixed on Spencer. “I need you to think carefully before you answer.” 

Spencer can feel how his heart starts to race, his mind already trying to anticipate what Hotch is about to ask him. “What is it?” he asks, his voice steady despite his growing nerves. Hotch takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he speaks again. 

“I’ve spoken with the local authorities in California, as well as our own expert and with the circumstances of the case and lack of leads, we have decided that the best way to proceed is to send in two undercover agents that fits the profile of the victims, and I want to ask you to be one of those agents.” 

Spencer’s eyes widen in surprise, his mind racing with the implications of such a task. Going undercover in a case like this would be incredibly risky, not to mention emotionally taxing and it is not something he has much expertise in.

“I understand that this is a big ask, but you fit the profile of the victims and your ability to think on your feet and adapt in high-pressure situations makes you the best candidate for this job,”  Hotch explains, his eyes searching Spencer’s face for any sign of hesitation.

Spencer takes a moment to process Hotch’s words. He can see the logic in Hotch’s reasoning with the specific details of the case and the lack of leads; it might be the best way to proceed, and Spencer knows that it is only done when absolutely necessary. “And you’re sure I’m the best agent for the job, I don’t have much experience with undercover work,” Spencer says, keeping his voice as steady as he can while feeling the uncertainty within himself. 

“You’re more than capable, Reid. Your intelligence and quick thinking are your strongest assets, and we have full confidence in your abilities. I would never ask this of you if I was not fully convinced that you are fit for this job. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know that you have it in you to handle it,” Hotch reassures him, his tone firm and unwavering. 

Spencer nods, taking a deep breath as he processes the weight of the task that has been given to him. This is a very serious assignment, one he knows is crucial to solving the case and bringing justice to the victims. “If you believe I can do it, then I’ll do it,” Spencer says finally, his voice resolute. 

Hotch nods, a sense of relief crossing his features. “Thank you, Reid. This means a lot to the case, and I know you will do a great job,” he says, his voice showing his appreciation. 

Spencer reciprocates the nod, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. It’s a lot to take in, and it takes his usually so fast thinking mind a second to realize that he won’t be going undercover alone. “Who will be the other agent going undercover with me?” Spencer asks, wanting to know who he will be partnering with.

“I have someone in mind, but I want to make sure that she is on board before we move forward.” 

“Is it, Y/L/N?” Spencer can’t help but ask, his mind already considering the possibilities of who he is going to work undercover with, and you are the person in the unit that would fit the profile of the victim the best. He really hopes it’s gonna be you, even though a part of him also doesn’t want you to be put in a potentially dangerous position. Spencer knows that your skills and intelligence would complement his own in such a high-stakes situation. And most importantly he just really likes being around you. You are always so kind to him and you never fail to make him feel included and supported. 

Hotch nods. “Yes, she fits the profile as well and I believe that she has the expertise for this kind of operation. I will speak with her and see if she is willing to take on this assignment. I trust that the two of you will work well together on this case and you seem to get along well, and that’ll be important in this case. I’ll have to be sure that the agents I’m sending in can deliver a believable performance.”

And that is when it really dawns on Spencer, the two of you are not just going into a dangerous situation together, you will also have to pretend to be a couple, a young married couple expecting a child. He had been so caught up in the seriousness of the assignment and the potential risks involved that he hadn’t even considered that part of going undercover with you. 

The thought of pretending to be a married couple with you, even if it’s just for the sake of the operation, sends a wave of feelings and thoughts through him, too many at once for him to fully process. Sure, it’s all part of the job, but the idea of being so close to you and having to maintain that facade is a challenge he’s not sure he’s fully prepared for. The idea of playing the role of your husband, even if it’s just for work, is both exhilarating and absolutely terrifying at the same time. 

But as Spencer looks into Hotch’s eyes, he sees the trust and confidence that his boss has in him, and he knows that he can’t back down now. He has a job to do, and he will do it to the best of his abilities, alongside you. 

· · · · ·

After Hotch and Spencer left the conference room, you and the other agents moved back to your desks to go through the evidence and case files. You are now wrapped in the cardigan that usually hangs from the back of your desk chair and you feel a little more office appropriate. 

“Damn, this is a tough one,” Derek says, shaking his head as he scans through the crime scene photos. “The level of violence in these murders is just brutal.” 

You nod in agreement as you flip through your own stack of evidence, looking up from the file in your hand as Spencer and Hotch emerge from Hotch’s office, Spencer walking down the stairs to join the team, but Hotch stays back, his expression serious and you get a little surprised when he addresses you.

“Can I have a word with you in my office?” Hotch says, his tone somber before he steps back into his office. 

You can’t help but feel a sense of urgency as you put down the file in your hand and get up from your desk. You pass Spencer at the foot of the stairs, his eyes flicking down to meet yours. “Everything okay?” you ask, a hint of concern in your voice. Spencer nods, but there is something in his eyes you can’t quite read. 

“Yeah, uh… yeah, Hotch will explain,” he says, his voice slightly tense, and a slight crease is formed between his brows  but the look in his brown eyes are soft as they meet yours. 

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a small smile, before  you quickly step up the stairs, or at least as quickly as you can in your five inch heels. You feel a small knot of anxiety starting to form in your stomach as you step into the office, wondering what this is about.

The door clicks shut behind you, and you feel the weight of Hotch’s gaze on you as you stand in front of his desk. “Please, sit down,” Hotch says, his tone grave as he gestures towards the chair in front of him. You take a seat, feeling a sense of unease settling in your stomach.

Hotch’s expression is unreadable as he looks at you, and for a moment, you can’t help but wonder what all of this is about.

“I have a very big thing to ask from you, agent, and I want you to know that I’m asking this of you because I trust you can handle it. It’s a request, but the choice is fully up to you,” Hotch starts, his voice steady but filled with seriousness. “Due to the lack of leads and the nature of these murders, we have come to the decision to send in two undercover agents who fit the profile of the victims to try and draw out the unsub, and I would like to ask you to be one of those agents. Agent Reid has already agreed to take on the assignment, the two of you match the victim profiles, and I truly believe that with your skills and expertise, you would be the perfect choice for this task.” 

You lean back in your chair as you let Hotch’s words sink in. So this is why Hotch wanted to talk with Spencer. Going undercover on a case as gruesome and high stakes as this is not something to take lightly, but with the circumstances of the case and the lack of current leads you can see the logic in it. It’s a risky move, but you know that sometimes risky moves are necessary in order to catch the unsub and bring justice to the victims. 

“I know that this is a very big thing for me to ask of you, and I want you to know that I fully understand if you have any reservations or concerns,” Hotch continues, his tone earnest. “But I also believe that you have what it takes to handle this assignment, and your dedication to the job is unparalleled. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I wasn’t convinced that you could handle it.” 

“I understand the gravity of this assignment, Hotch,” you say, your voice calm and steady, wanting to reassure him that you are aware of the importance of the task at hand. “I am aware of the risks involved, and if you think I’m the right person for the job, then I’ll do it.” 

Hotch nods, his features softening. “Thank you, agent. I know this is a lot to ask, but I have full confidence in your abilities and I truly believe that you and Reid will be able to handle this assignment with the utmost professionalism.” 

You nod in acknowledgment, a surge of determination coursing through you by your decision. You also can’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that Spencer will be the person going undercover with you. You trust him implicitly and that makes you feel a sense of ease.

“I will arrange for a briefing with you and Agent Reid to go over the details of the assignment. You’ll also have to go through a training course while we set up a location for the undercover operation, and you will of course be given your undercover identities. I’ll inform the rest of the team about the assignment,” Hotch’s words are firm and decisive, and you can see the weight of responsibility in his expression. “But you better get home and get some rest. You have a long and intense process ahead of you, agent,” he adds, a softer tone creeping into his voice.

“Copy that,” you reply as you stand up from your chair. Soon you’re back down in the bullpen, standing at your desk as you gather your belongings and start to make your way out of the office. Just as you’re about to close your purse, you catch Spencer’s eye from where he’s standing over at his own desk, and as you give him a tired smile, which he mirrors, you swing your purse over your shoulder and walk over to his desk. 

“So, Hotch asked you?” Spencer says as you approach him, his brown eyes meeting yours. You nod, the weight of the assignment settling in as you face each other. 

“Yeah, he did. Looks like we’re partners in this one,” you reply, smiling at him once again.

Spencer nods, a small smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. You both stand there for a short moment, the weight of the assignment hanging heavily between you, before Spencer breaks the silence. “Do you need me to walk you to your car? I know the parking lot is just outside and that we have security, but still.”

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you for his offer, and you can see the concern in his eyes as he looks at you, but that is also when you remember that you didn’t drive here yourself.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you,” you say, feeling touched by his concern. “But I actually didn’t drive here tonight, I took a cab.”

“You took a cab all the way from D. C.?!”

You laugh at his surprised expression. “Yeah, I was out, I didn’t have my car and I also had had a few drinks.”

“You should have called me, I could have picked you up and we could have driven together,” he says, his tone filled with genuine concern. You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“I appreciate that, Spence. Maybe next time,” you say, giving him a grateful smile. You know that Spencer is always willing to go above and beyond to help his friends and colleagues, and you can’t help but feel extra lucky to have him as a partner in this assignment. 

“Well, you have a ride back home now,” he says, offering you a gentle smile.

“That’s nice,” you reply, with a bright smile, feeling very grateful for his offer. You had expected to get a lift from one of your colleagues when you drove out here, it would be difficult, if not impossible, to get hold of a cab this late out here, but it feels really nice that you didn’t even have to ask for one. 

“Of course,” Spencer replies, his smile growing wider. Soon the two of you are stepping out of the FBI building and are met with the brisk night air, your feet are hurting and the cool air makes goosebumps rise on your skin. But almost before you get to register it, Spencer has removed his jacket and offers it to you. “You must be cold,” he says, giving you a kind look. You try to protest, but he insists, draping the jacket over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you mumble, not feeling like protesting further as soon as the warm feeling of the jacket engulfs you. 

Once you reach his car, he opens the door for you and you slide into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of gratitude for his kindness. “You want this back?” you ask, removing the jacket from your shoulder. You don’t really feel ready to give up the warm garment, but you also don’t want to assume that he offered it for more than just the walk to the car. 

Spencer shakes his head as he settles into the driver’s seat and you watch him start the engine. “No, you just keep it.” You smile happily as you toe off your shoes and curl up in the seat draping the jacket over your bare legs, feeling like it is enveloping you in a comfortable cocoon of warmth and safety as Spencer starts the car and begins the drive back towards D. C.

The landscape passes by in a blur outside the window as the two of you drive in comfortable silence, the both of you seemingly getting lost in your own thoughts for a little while. The weight of the assignment in front of you settles heavily between you.

“I’m really grateful that you’re going to be my partner on this assignment,” Spencer breaks the silence eventually, his voice soft but filled with sincerity. 

“Me too,” you reply, turning to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. 

Another comfortable stretch of silence fills the car as you continue on your way back to the city. Despite trying to fight it, your eyes start to feel immensely heavy. Fatigue from a long day and the weight of the impending assignment finally catching up to you, and with the gentle lull of the car you never really stood a chance and soon you are starting to doze off, slowly sliding into the sweet embrace of sleep as you sink deeper into the soft car seat.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always greatly appreciated :) let me know if you want to be tagged in the next chapter ♡ edit: it would especially be nice if you reblog when you ask to be added to the tag list ♡

Taglist: @luivisa @babyspiderling @reidsdaisies @eddioto @sadroses98 @lovelyygirl8

[pearlywritings]

A guide to motivate the General

synopsis: just a couple of messages and maybe a call from his loved ones is all Jing Yuan needs to find it in himself to finish his work and go home.

pairing: Jing Yuan x fem!reader

tw: fluff, domestic fluff, dad!Jing Yuan, Mimi being a huge spoiled baby

word count: 2.1k+ words

A loud yawn echoes in an empty space of The Seat of the Divine Foresight. The general squints, but immediately shakes his head - as much as he’d love to take a nap, there are still some urgent cases he has to attend to. It’s so quiet and lifeless with everyone being dismissed. Oh, what he would’ve given to be far far from here… 

He knows, however, that dwelling on such a matter is just a waste of his resources. Instead of feeling jealous of the guards and secretaries he let go home three hours ago, he opts to redirect the remnants of his energy to the last pile of papers he’s already halfway through.

But just as he reaches for another document his phone vibrates, screen lighting up momentarily, but even a second-long glance is enough to see who the message is from.

And he can’t make his wife wait, can he?

As he carefully puts the ink brush down the device makes a sound a couple of more times, indicating that there are three messages already. Quickly typing eight numbers of his passcode - two most important dates of his life - Jing Yuan swipes away all the spam that has gathered there this evening. His thumb lightly taps on the messenger and goes right to the chat with you, tired golden eyes gaining a bit of their usual shine.

Good evening, my love. I suppose you weren’t lying when you said you’d be quite busy. Didn’t want to disturb you before, but I hope Yanqing wasn’t covering you up, telling me that you ‘dutifully ate’ the dinner I asked him to bring you earlier.

Jing Yuan chuckles. Ah, isn’t it wonderful to have a loving doting spouse who cares so much for her husband. Of course he took a break and ate his dinner - how could he ever deny your home-cooked meals? It would be a crime against your marriage.

Ignoring for a moment your two next messages, the man starts typing an answer.

Good evening, beloved. Yes, I’ll be here for another hour it seems. But I am planning to return home tonight, don’t worry. Yes, the dinner was delicious, thank you. And you know that boy knows better than to lie to you.

Though he, personally, finds your infuriated face adorable, not scary. Sending the message, he skips to the next ones.

Look who’s been waiting for your return

And the video attached. Not thinking too long, he presses play.

He is quick to recognize your shared bedroom and from the angle you were filming you were clearly in bed. He can see the double doors of the entrance, some of the furniture and fine tapestries decorating the walls. But the main focus is obviously the big lion pacing back and forth in the space between the bed and the doors, occasionally stopping, glancing at the wooden obstacle, huffing and continuing its pacing. Then he hears you sweet melodic giggle and his heart melts and then immediately bursts when your voice enters the recording.

“She’s been like that for the last half an hour. She clearly misses papa.”

At the word ‘papa’ Mimi swiftly stops and looks at you and then at the door. Her tail slowly moves.

“No, Mimi, sorry, but papa isn’t home yet. Though I am sure he will soon.”

She seems to understand you, because another huff of dissatisfaction passes through her nose and she butts her head against the left door.

“Jing Yuan, you better hurry, before she figures out how to open the door and go bother ‘her cub’. I barely managed to separate the two.”

As the video stops, the general can’t help but snort, mouth covered with his palm. Eyes glance to the side, to the photo frame sitting snugly on his table - of him, you, held against his side with one arm, and a little girl perched comfortably in the crook of his other one. The smiles the three of you presenting are joyful and he can recall why - the day was brilliant, after all.

Not given an opportunity to wonder however, his attention is brought back by another vibration - looks like you still have something to say.

True, but it never hurts to make sure.

Want me to wait for you?

Oh, he’d love for you to be awake and welcome his exhausted body into your embrace, but at the same time he wants you to have a night of good sleep before tomorrow. Even so…he can allow himself to indulge just a little bit, right?

Warmth swirls in his chest when you pick his video call.

“Hi, pretty,” a lazy smile tugs on the corners of his lips when he sees your cozy form - hair let down, a pillow tucked behind your back and two thin straps of the chemise resting on your beautiful shoulders.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he sees your eyes taking into his own visage, noting his tired gaze, messy hair and a palm supporting his chin. “Are you calling me to answer my question?”

“Yes and no. Just wanted to see you before you go to sleep,” and that is enough of a response to you.

“How sweet of you, Yuan,” there is a guttural noise in the background and he sees your eyes dart behind the phone. “Ah, looks like Mimi heard your voice. She started running around the room. Searching for you, Mister,” even though there is a hint of reproach in your voice, the general knows you are simply joking. 

“My apologies. It seems I made all my girls wait. Speaking of my girls, how is-”

Suddenly you gasp and your body seems to jump and for a moment the phone tilts backwards and Jing Yuan has to stare at the ceiling.

“My dear? Everything is okay?”

“What-? Ah, yes, yes, it- Mimi, stop! Ouch, your paw is heavy!”

The ceiling is clearer now - you must’ve put the device down in an attempt to (what he can only guess) fight off the lion that jumped onto your bed, finally figuring out where the voice was coming from. Loud grunts and your noises of discontent with occasional complaints are the only things he can hear for a couple of minutes. Reasoning that it’s better if he stays silent for the time being, Jing Yuan sets the phone against the photo frame and returns to the paper he was about to review.

It’s almost three documents later - wow, a quick peak of his loved one is doing wonders to his worsened productivity - when the commotion settles down and you pick your phone back, heavily exhaling with an annoyed look on your face. Jing Yuan decides to simply turn to you, hand still skipping through the papers.

“I swear, this overgrown cat is the biggest baby I’ve ever dealt with. Here, look, papa is here,” and you practically shove the device into the animal’s muzzle. Big nose sniffs around, and, not finding the familiar scent of her caretaker, the lion gives you a side eye, which makes your husband choke on his laughter. The maned head whips to the left, keen hearing obviously picking a well-known voice.

“Who taught her that jumping onto the bed is okay?” You are in his sight again, fingers running through your hair, now no different from his own messy locks. “Right - you. I couldn’t get her off and barely managed to put this bulk down. You better pray she decides to leave on her own accord, or you are sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Yes, your annoyed expressions are truly marvelous. How he wished to be there with you and shower your puffy cheeks with dozens of kisses, cradling your face in his big warm palms. It would be so lovely.

“I’ll just go and sleep with my angel then. I am sure she won’t be against having dada by her side.”

He hears Mimi yawn loudly and you make an ‘oof’ sound, promptly lifting the phone.

“Everything is alright?”

“Yeah… She just dropped her head onto my lap. And is staring at me, quite offended.”

“Oooh, now you are stuck,” he can't help but smirk, relishing the roll of your eyes. He knows better than anyone how heavy his pet is. Even he feels a strain in his back whenever he picks her up. Or maybe he is just getting old.

“Wow, thanks, General Obviousness. Mimi, your papa is so-”

Abruptly you are interrupted again, but this time by a quiet, almost inaudible sound of the doors opening. He sees your body lean forward and by a warning “Mimi, stay” he knows you are pinning the animal down. Which can mean only one thing…

“Mom?” A sweet sleepy voice of his daughter proves his assumption right. Suddenly, hearing just one word from her, the man wants to abandon what little work he has left and rush home to envelope the little wonder into his arms, hear her giggle and call him “dad” or “dada” or “papa” - he'd take anything, really, as long as it’s from his little one.

“What is it, baby? Having trouble sleeping?” Oh, but your voice is so beautifully tender, he wants to have it directly caress his ears, while he is cuddled into your body, your fingers running through his thick hair. Aeons, he is losing focus.

“I heard Mimi running,” the little voice gets closer and Jing Yuan sees how your shoulder tenses - the arm is undoubtedly wrapped around the lion’s body. “I thought that daddy came home… has he not yet?”

Now, he really wants to get home as soon as possible.

“No, sweety. But guess what? I am talking to him right now. Want to say hi?”

As you are leaning back, your husband reaches for the phone, holding it properly in his hands, heart skipping a beat in anticipation, waiting for the girl to climb onto the bed and settle at your side.

Stars above, she is a carbon copy of him. Fluffy hair, tucked behind her ears not to obscure the vision, keeping the pretty liquid gold eyes on display, a beauty mark under her eye is charming, just as a lovely smile, stretching mouth when she finally catches the glimpse of her father.

“Papa hiii!” Her little hands wave happily at him, a toothy grin even wider than before. Pure excitement written all over her drowsy expression is adorable, so cute in fact, that Jing Yuan fists the shirt on his chest in a silent cry of his heart.

“Hi, my little sparrow,” he speaks softly, gazing at her with so much love, while his mind is screaming with joy. “I am going to be home very soon. But I want you, and mama, and Mimi all to go to sleep.”

“But whyyy,” she whines, pouting. He also hears the lion grunt, as if understanding what he is saying, and you just shake your head with a small chuckle.

“Because papa wants you to be well-rested. He promised us a walk tomorrow, right?” Your hand goes to rest on top of her head, patting. “It’ll be too bad if we are sleepy, don't you think?”

“Mama is right. I know you miss me, baby, and I miss you terribly too. But if we want to spend the whole day together, doing everything you, princess, want, I have to complete some of my cases. That's why I am going to say my good night’s and get back to work to finish it.”

The white-haired girl sighs, dropping her head, letting the heavy fringe escape and cover her eyes.

“Being an adult is awful,” he hears her murmur a complaint and can’t help but agree. Though, if he wasn’t an adult, would’ve he ever had you and her? “But I get it, daddy. I am a big girl!”

“That’s my girl,” he gives her an encouraging smile, when she lifts her eyes again to look at him from under the bangs. His smile is almost immediately mirrored.

“So…” Jing Yuan catches your gaze (you have been watching this whole exchange with a fond look in your eyes) and shares unspoken affection. “Good night, my love.”

“Have you soon in my arms, dear,” you blow a kiss and he makes a grabby motion with his hand, bringing it to his very heart.

“Baby,” the girl perks, wiggling in her place and tucking her hair away when his attention is focused on her once more, “sweet dreams. I promise to stop by and kiss you on the cheek.”

“I'll be waiting- I mean sleeping! Have fun with work, daddy.”

“I will. Rub Mimi’s tummy for me, will you?”

“Mhm!”

Giving the two of you one last glance before hanging up, Jing Yuan is filled with the new found motivation. At that moment he thinks that busying himself for the full duration of the day is absolutely worth it, if he gets to give his girls undivided attention tomorrow.

And he will be damned if he lets something ruin it.

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[conelluwrites]

the red means i love you

Reader/Doppelgänger Francis (main focus on the doppelgänger aspect) (reader goes by she/her and is described with vaginal terms)

posted on my AO3

word count: 2.6k

title from The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley

Contains: monster fucking (doppelgänger fucking), headcanon design for non-disguised doppels, barbed dick, breeding, and blood drinking

You let the wrong one in, but maybe it's not as bad as it seems when you invite him back to your apartment.

“Mmm…”  The voice sounds uncanny, too similar to Francis with the slightest hint of a purr that the tired milkman would never express, “I’m rather thankful that you let me in earlier, you know?”  His uniform is clean and tidy, well put together in a way that Francis would never be able to achieve due to his early morning risings.  His hair is just barely out of place.  Things that no one would notice-- things that make her wish that she had called Francis’ apartment to see if he was home.

“W-Wha-!”  The doorman stumbles back in fear, causing her to bump her back into the chest of the doppelgänger who all too readily wraps his arms around her waist.  One of his hands trails down her rigid arm and grabs the hand of hers that is trembling its way towards the phone.  Even if he didn’t intervene, the D.D.D. would not arrive in time to prevent any damages, he was in the safety room.  His fingertips are inhuman, too sharp but not yet undisguised, as they intertwine with her own to prevent her from dialing the number she memorized so easily.

“Shhh, shhh…  There’s no reason for you to be afraid.”  He coos, brushing his nose against the exposed flesh of her neck.  “No need to scream, no need to squirm, no need to put up a fight…”  His voice is velvety but now lacks the tiredness the real Francis carries.  It’s not surprising that he’s giving up his disguise piece by piece, she assumes that it must take some level of effort to be so near-perfectly disguised and she knows at this point she’s utterly fucked.  “I could take you away from this annoying position forever if you want.  No pesky D.D.D. agents, no more anxiety from our kind, no more living in fear.  Sounds pretty nice, hm?”  His free hand goes to hold her chin, his sharp thumb slightly digging into her jawline.

“But I gotta protect my neighbors.  My job-- sitting here and looking at everyone and their documents, it might suck at times but it keeps everyone safe.”  She says, her voice trembling.  Her throat is bone dry from fear, her chest aches from the uneven breathing leaving her slightly open lips.

“Oh, my dear, that’s such a noble sentiment.”  The doppelgänger sighs dramatically before shaking his head.  He spins her around in his grasp, the hand that was holding hers goes to her waist.  His fingers trace along her jawline, making sure to keep a gentle, but firm, grip on her so she cannot try to escape.  There’s a bright grin on his face, his teeth too white to be human.  “But how many times have they let you down?  Surely they have failed you before.  People are fickle creatures; they don’t appreciate what they have until it’s gone.  I promise to protect you, sweetheart, just let me stay with you tonight, hm?”

Her mind races, so many thoughts of her own death and the death of her neighbors.  “How do I know you won’t hurt me?”  The answer is obvious-- if the doppel were going to hurt her, he already would have.  He’s stronger than her, stronger than any human and she’s still in his grasp.  If he wanted to maim her, he would have already.  “You doppelgängers just want to kill and eat us.”

“Ah, you misunderstand me, darling!  I could never harm a hair on your lovely head.”  The doppelgänger earnestly insists.  His thumb brushes gently across her cheek, trying to so lovingly convince her.  “All I want is to hear more stories about your day and listen to those sweet little fears of yours…  And yes, perhaps indulge myself in some delicious blood as well.”  He’s whispering intimately, as if they’re a pair of lovers.  The grip on her waist tightens slightly but remains mostly gentle, it’s almost comforting despite the sharp nails against her shirt.  “C’mon… please trust me.”

“But I-”  her voice dies out the longer she allows herself to fall into the illusion of mutual trust.

“It’s okay, my love,” he murmurs understandingly, “don’t overthink things, hm?”  He kisses her temple tenderly, a perfect imitation of love between humans.  His eyes flicker towards the phone, allowing even himself to dream of a different world where he could whisk her away and keep her all to himself.  “Let’s just go for now, let’s go somewhere private where no one can bother us.”

She relents easily, tearing her gaze from his face and allowing it to travel down the white uniform before making its way back up to his face.  “My apartment is on the first floor.  We… We can go there together.  We don’t have to worry about others seeing us, everyone else is in for the night.”

Francis’ grin grows even more, his canines growing sharper than any humans can be naturally, “That sounds perfect.”  He sounds appreciative, leading him gently to the door to exit the safety room.  The walk to the apartment is short.  As the apartment door closes, the intensity changes slightly; he is watching her carefully while also taking the new space.  “Nice place.  So cozy…”

“Thank you….” She murmurs. “I figured it’s safer for you to be here than anywhere else in the complex.”

Francis’ doppelgänger hums thoughtfully before nodding in agreement.  After the brief exchange, he takes the opportunity to explore the small apartment, touching things lightly as if trying to understand their purpose and history though touch alone.  Every movement exudes confidence in his decision-making process, evaluating the potential of each object.  “You’re so brave, you know.  C’mere.”

She walks over to him hesitantly and stands there.  The doppelgänger is taller than her.  Despite it all, since he’s imitating one of her neighbors that she’s rather fond of, she feels herself relaxing.  He wraps an arm around her waist casually, pulling her close while leaning down until their hands nearly touch.  He inhales deeply, enjoying the warmth that a human being brings.  He drawings circles on his back with his free hand.  He continues to lean down slowly -- closer and closer to her neck.  Her breath hitches as his nose finally meets her neck.  Her hands meet his waist and tighten slightly, crinkling his shirt.  Adrenaline is racing through her body, making her tremble slightly but she refuses to pull away.  The way the doppelgänger rubes and nuzzles his nose into the crook of her neck is the sweetest thing she’s experienced recently.

The doppelgänger lets out a satisfied rumble, savoring the sensation of her trembling beneath his touch.  If anyone saw them now, they’d assume it was two lovers locked in passion.  His lips brush against the skin he finds lightly before he stops abruptly.  “Promise me something -- promise that you won’t run away.”

“...”  She considers his words carefully.  Every primal instinct in her is begging her to run, to get away as fast as she can.  But she hasn't and, to be honest to herself, she doesn’t want to.  She’s rather content staying like this, being in his arms with his face buried in her neck.  She know he could bite her, sink sharp teeth in her neck and finish her life in less than a second, but she finds herself trusting that he won’t.  “ I promise.”

“Good girl.”  He praises softly, finally giving into temptation and pressing his teeth gently against her neck.  Not hard enough to yet draw blood, just merely teasing her.  His arm tightens around her as the gravity of her promise fully settles between the pair.  The danger she’s in never fully dissipates but mixes well with the affection he’s showing her.  “You deserve a reward for trusting me.”

“Oh?  Like what?” She asks, her grip on him loosening as her body adapts to the unfamiliar situation.

Francis’ doppelgänger chuckles, the vibrations tickling her neck.  “Don’t fret, just something that will make us both happy.”  With a groan, he allows his disguise to slip further and further, his teeth sharpening.  They puncture her skin ever so slightly, blood trickles immediately out of the small wounds.  With a satisfied hum, he pulls away and licks his lips, allowing blood to pool.  “Just relax, enjoy this moment.”  She struggles out a broken moan; it’s not necessarily painful but it reminds her of how weak and vulnerable she is in the moment, a feeling that is intoxicating.  “Relax.” he murmurs against her skin soothingly.  There was no aggression or hunger driving him, it was just to provide nutrients for him to continue his time with her.  Slowly yet deliberately, he licks up the collected droplets while sucking lightly on the wound.  He alternates between suckling and licking the wounds, moaning.

“Y’gonna leave a hickey on me.” She sighs out, her body relaxing even further.

“Only for me to look at later.”  He promises, his breath hot on her dampened flesh.  The rhythm slows down until it stops altogether and he pulls away.  Slowly and carefully, he raises his gaze to meet hers.  “Now tell me more about those annoying D.D.D. agents.”

“I don’t know much about them, to be honest.  They don’t hang around after the cleaning procedure and they don’t talk to me aside from congratulating me on living another way.”  She says, swiping a bit of her own blood from his lips with his thumb.

“You should know more than that.”  He growls. “We could use your help some day.”

“We?  You want me to help the doppelgängers?”

“Of course.  Someone like you, someone so skilled at calling us out…  You could be helpful in our cause.”

“I don’t believe that’s such a worthy cause…” She murmurs, resting her head against his chest.  His heartbeat is inhuman, too slow to be human, but it’s relaxing.  “Though…”

“Though?  You would be safe -- you’d be part of our family.  Perhaps one day I could introduce you to some of the ones I’m closest to.”

“Mm.”  She weighs his words carefully.  In a disturbing, unacceptable way, it’s almost sweet.  “I suppose that, as long as I’m protected by you, I’d be honored to meet them.  Does that make us mates?”

“Indeed.”  Silence stretches between them for a moment.  “In our world, we share souls upon consummation.”  He stares into her eyes after the statement, gauging her reaction based on his customs.

“Ah, like marriages for humans then?  Do you want to consummate our bond?”

The doppelgänger stiffens slightly at first before relaxing.  “Yes.  But we must proceed cautiously.”

“Why’s that, my love?  Is your genitalia that different?”  She asks, leaning up to nuzzle her nose against his for a moment before pulling away and going to stroke his cheek softly.  The skin is rubbery and like ice against her fingers.

“Hm…  No, not quite.”  There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence, he allows her mind to wander with possibilities.  “Our release is also quite different, I believe.  Is that okay?”

She’s quiet for a moment, allowing herself time to fully comprehend the possibilities ahead of her. “Yes.  I want to be your mate, so please…  mate with me the way doppelgängers do.”  Francis’ doppelgänger feels a surge of triumph.  The transformation starts gradually as he allows himself to rip through his disguise.  The clothes rip and tatter, falling to the ground around him as she lets him go, allowing him to fully transform.  Glistening black scales peek through skin like moonlight reflecting off ocean waves, his fingers grow out to sharp daggers, his arms and legs elongate as his muscles tense.  His teeth barely fit in his mouth, the sharp points poking slightly over his lips.  His cock is impossibly thick and long, tiny barbs lining the sides as it oozes black pre-cum.  He lifts her effortlessly, his hands on her ass as he carries her to her bedroom and places her gently on the bed.

“Lie back.”  He commands quietly, watching every breath he takes with anticipation and hunger.  She lays back, obediently as he hovers over her patiently.  There’s no shame or hesitation in his gaze as his hand travels up her shirt to lift it over her head.  She tugs off her pants, leaving her in her bra and panties.  His gaze is full of pride.  “You’re mine now, my soulmate.”

“You’re perfect.”  She says softly, cupping his face and kissing his monstrous face lovingly.  Her lips meet his rough lips and pointed teeth.  She winces preemptively as his sharp claws make easy work of her panties, tugging on the fabric until it tears away and reveals her glistening sex.  The thick, black sludge lubricates his cock, making it ease into her cunt slowly and easily despite its grand size.  She feels the tiny barbs grow slightly, just enough to dig into her walls to prevent her from squirming away or resisting.

He hisses appreciatively at the compliment and the feeling of her heat enveloping her slowly.  “You’re tight.”  He grunts out raggedly, thrusting deep.  The sensation matches beast-like intensity, every movement echoing throughout the small bedroom.

“Hah, you’re bigger than I expected.  So fuckin’ thick.” She pants out, her cunt swallowing his cock with little resistance.  “I was scared about the bars, but shit…  your cock is so perfect for me.”  The doppelgänger lets out an animalistic moan at her declaration, his thrusts becoming more aggressive and intense.

“That’s it!  Take everything I got!”  He exclaims hoarsely, nails digging into her hips.  “Answer me, would you want children?”  He gasps urgently.  Despite the heaviness of the question he posed, he keeps pushing relentlessly -- seeking assured release.

“I-I-!  Yes!  I want to swell with your young.”  She says lovingly, moaning.

He roars at his words, bowing low to catch her lips.  The kiss is filled with dominance and ownership.  “Perfect.”  He growls into her mouth, shifting positions easily so she’s on top of him.  “Ride me until we’re done.”

She straddles him easing, wincing as the shift in positioning digs his barbs deep into her cunt.  “Fuck, baby…”  She breathes out, her hands on his chest.  Her hips raise up and down rapidly despite her legs trembling greatly.

“Let me see those pretty eyes looking into mine.”  He orders hoarsely.  He hisses as her cunt adjusts.  The pain she felt was only temporary, but served its purpose well: reminding her whose body she was riding, a dangerous creature holding immense power over her.  His own gaze burned with need and desperation, pleading silently for satisfaction.  

She looks into his eyes obediently, so full of adoration for the monster.  “I-I-...”  Her breath hitches, she can’t finish her sentence.  She’s too embarrassed to admit her love for him.  Instead, she leans down to kiss him.  Her soft lips meeting his rough, uneven ones.

“Say it.  Tell me how much we mean to each other.”  He demands huskily.  His barbs grow slightly more, haling her movements for a single second.  It’s a sign of his nearing climax that’s mirrored by her frantic movements once she adjusts to the growth.

“I love you, fuck, I love you!”  She moans loudly.  Her cunt begins to quiver and massage his cock.  “Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me.”  She whimpers as his barbs dig in even more as her tight walls convulse around him.  Suddenly she can feel a torrent of his dark, murky cum release deep into her cunt.  His cock swells greatly, making her gasp and cum around him.  Her slick dribbles down his cock and coats him.  Her body slowly relaxes as his barbs retract but he remains swollen.  She lays limp against him, breathing heavily.

He roars hoarsely, pumping several times harder with his thickened cock.  He remains still, breathing heavily with his arms tight around her as he lays on his side, holding her tight to his chest.  It’ll take several minutes for his cock to decrease in size, but it’s unlikely that either of the two will be awake.  “Our bond is sealed.”  He rasps against her ear, nuzzling gently against sensitive skin.

[nothingbynova]

forever with him, luke castellan fanfic

summary: friends to lovers, sunshine and grumpy, apollo cabin main character <3

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.5k

warning(s) : lots of plot, some cringey fluff, cute kissing moments & use of y/n

dedications: my bestfriend honeymoomin. i hope you enjoy reading, i love you minnie !!

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note: hii first time poster here but i’m so in love with luke fics so i wrote my own :)

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everyone at camp half blood knows that the apollo kids are an embodiment of sunshine and happiness. no matter what happens, they always find a reason to make those around them smile and laugh. people gravitate towards the positive energy that being an apollo kid has, and you are no different. even the angsty and moody kids seem to enjoy your presence. luke castellan is the most popular example of this.

the horn echoes in the distance as you wake up, kids slowly pile out of your cabin and walk down to the dining pavilion. mixed foods are spread out for everyone to grab and enjoy. you grab a few small items, fruit, yogurt and an apple juice before heading toward your respective table. 

all cabins have their own tables, and all cabin mates must eat with their siblings. every meal, everyday, forever until they grow up and leave. luke castellan does not follow this rule. 

his brown curls are messy and falling into his eyes, it’s obvious he didn’t sleep much the night before. he walks to grab a plate of mixed fruits and walks towards your table. chiron tried to take away dessert privileges the first few times it happened but luke didn’t care, he still wanted to sit with you. eventually it was a habit for both cabins, luke ate every meal with you instead.

“rough night?” you ask, smiling as he slips onto the bench seat beside you.

“yeah, the twins wouldn’t shut up..” he trails off, slowly piling his plate of breakfast down into his mouth. luke was the head counselor for hermes cabin, which means he didn’t get to sleep until everyone else was taken care of. 

“wanna come to mine and help me study?” you chirp up and turn to look at him, his focus is fixed on the table in front of you both. the ares kids are fighting over who has to scrub toilets after losing the capture of the flag. clarisse la rue, their head counselor is repetitively smacking one of the trouble boys on the head until he stops yelling.

“uhh maybe later? i have training duty today for the new group that showed up last week” luke replied without even turning to look at you. he continued eating his fruit and even continued onto eating some of yours as well. 

“oh it’s okay, i can just study with someone else today” you smiled at him and brushed off how different the rejection felt today. 

“okay, come find me before dinner?” luke asked as he stood up from the bench and grabbed his remaining fruit left on the plate. 

“of course!” you cheerly replied and turned to look up at luke as he hovered over you. he quickly wrapped an arm around your chest and hugged you from behind, kissing your temple before walking off toward the fire pit. every demi-god child has to offer food scraps to their parent, as a form of admiration and love. therefore, the fire pit burns every minute of every day, basically for the rest of eternity as long as camp half-blood stands alive.

and let's just say the flames weren’t the only thing burning bright red anymore.

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you decided to study with annabeth in the athena cabin since luke ditched you for counselor duties. nobody can compete with the smarts of an athena kid, but you were pretty damn close. 

annabeth was incredibly talented in basically everything, but she liked to study architecture specifically. she could ramble about the history and purpose of buildings for days. you on the other hand preferred the easier topics, like high school english and ancient greek history. 

“are you going to tell me what happened at breakfast this morning or not?” annabeth dropped her pencil down and looked straight at you. the burn of her stare was starting to become undeniable to acknowledge. 

“what are you talking about?” you sigh and glance up at her, before returning back to the textbook sitting in front of you. 

“are you seriously this clueless? luke kissed you this morning in front of everyone. you have no feelings about that?” her dead serious look made you feel slightly disoriented. you wait for a few seconds before replying back to her.

“he kissed my forehead, beth. it's not like we made out in front of the entire camp. and why exactly does this matter anyway?” you glare at her confused, squinting your eyes slightly and tilting your head in a questioned manner.

“you really are clueless, aren't you?” she took a deep breath and collected her belongings. “luke has had a crush on you for years, y/n” annabeth beams at you and then your wrist. a thin beaded best friend bracelet sat by itself. luke had made it for you after you arrived at camp, that being almost 6 years ago. he wore his matching one everyday, refusing to take it off even in combat.

“i’ll see you at dinner!” she gives you a quick side hug and then leaves you alone in the cabin to gather your thoughts and feelings. 

and staying with your feelings is exactly what you did. the rest of the day you couldn’t focus on anything but the conversation with annabeth. did luke actually like you back? and if so, how did she know before you did? everything was becoming so complicated and confusing now.

clarisse stopped you on your way toward the training fields, she wanted your help fixing up and decorating a chariot for the camp’s racing event tomorrow. you, being an apollo kid, couldn't possibly deny her request. the two of you worked together for a couple hours, mixing scraps and parts into useful weapons. after she saw how distracted you were when you began painting small hearts along the doors sides, she took a pause. normally this could have passed without question for the aphrodite cabin, but ares? absolutely not. 

“alright, who has you in a love spell y/n? i appreciate the help you know, but drawing hearts on my chariot won't go well with me or any of my siblings.” she questioned you, removing the small hand held paint brush from your grasp. 

“hmm? sorry i’ve got alot on my mind” you quickly replied, giving a sympathetic smile as blush crept onto your cheeks. clarisse looked at you for a moment, sighed, and then walked back toward her side of the cart. she threw the brush back into the pile of others before continuing whatever progress she has at making some wheels spin faster.

“the horn will sound for dinner here soon, you can leave now. thank you for the help” she yelped from beyond the chariot, smacking around parts of steel.

you close your eyes for a moment and deeply exhale. like clockwork the loud conch shell announced that it was time for all demi-god children to meet in the dining pavilion. a sudden wave of worry had overcome your mind and body. 

luke always sits with you and the rest of the apollo cabin. there was no possible way to ignore his actions, or ask him to sit with his own cabin mates. making the friendship awkward wasnt what you wanted to do. this was undeniably going to happen right now, you just needed to act calm and chill like always!

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you slowly make your way out of the forest with clouded thoughts and a funny feeling in your stomach. you meet with annabeth again as you walk past the athena cabin doors. 

“hi y/n, have you seen luke yet?” she smirks at you and wiggles her eyebrows. you stop in your tracks and turn to dead pan her. 

“please tell me you were joking earlier.” you say with a serious face, thinking there’s no possible way that THE luke castellan could ever possibly like you back. 

“wait do you not like him too? i only told you because me and percy were tired of the constant flirting and neither of you were making moves.” she stops beside you and looks at you with a confused face. her happy and fun aura has since fallen after your recent question.

“that’s the issue beth, i’ve been in love with him forever! i never in a million years thought that he could ever feel the same until now. he’s so nonchalant and only ever talks about hooking up with one of the ares kids. i didn’t think he would want someone completely opposite of his personality…” you continue to ramble on, but annabeth’s focus slowly leaves and shifts to something behind you. a pale tone overtook her face about halfway through your speech

“are you even listening to me anymore??? i'm sorry, forget it, i’ll see you at the campfire.” you begin to turn around only to be faced with none other than luke castellan himself. there’s an awkward moment of silence before he speaks up

“you’re in love with me?” he questions, a slight blush is noticeable all over his face. his hands are tucked away into his pockets nervously.

“no no it’s not like- well yes but i can explain, can we talk? alone maybe?” you try to reason with him while hinting toward annabeth to give the two of you some privacy. she kindly understands and smiles at you before walking away and down toward the pavilion. 

“we can talk on the way to my cabin, most of the kids are already sitting down for dinner so it should be empty this time around.” he offers you a smile and extends his hand towards you. without skipping a beat you lace your fingers into his and prepare to walk toward the hermes structure. the silence between you is oddly peaceful, luke’s always been really good at making people feel safe even in the most uncomfortable situations. his hands are warm and soft, his thumb is gently rubbing along your fingers as he guides the way. 

“i assume annabeth told you” he glances down at you and then back up toward the graveled path. his grip on your hand is strong, almost as if he would die if he let go.

“uh yeah, she did..” your throat is suddenly very dry and you begin to feel that funny feeling in your stomach again. 

“i can almost feel the nerves radiating off you, take a breath y/n.” he chuckles as he pulls you toward the hermes cabin doors. gently releasing your hand to open it and gesture for you to enter first. you awkwardly walk inside and head toward the corner where his bed sits. you take a seat on the edge of his bed and glance around as if it's your first time in here. even though you’ve been friends with luke for half a decade, the new found feelings are making you feel like it's your first time hanging out together. he closes the door and walks over to the bed, sitting next to you. his thighs are practically touching you, his hand brushes against yours everytime he tries to move. the tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a butterknife. 

“so do you wanna explain what i overheard you telling annabeth..?” he offers you the chance to talk first, but he doesn't look away from your guys feet on the floor in front of you.

“how much exactly did you hear?” you question him, turning to look him in the eyes. 

“would you be alarmed if i said everything?” he peels his eyes off the floor and glances down at you. his lips are pursed into a small smirk and there's a red tint that lies on his cheeks.

“oh great” you awkwardly laugh and place your head into your heads. luke carefully wraps his hands around yours, pulling them away from your face. he makes sure not to let go of them, as he places both of your guys hands into his lap.

“i like you, y/n. i’ve always liked you, i was just waiting for you to realize it…” his eyes are soft when you look into them. you can see as his eyes dart between your own and down to your lips. the room is suddenly hot, and you feel a gravitational pull toward luke. he must feel it too because within seconds both of you are leaning in. one of his hands comes up to hold your jaw. he’s pulling you into him, and quickly you are inches away from his face. there's a quick pause in his movement before he speaks up. “are you sure you wanna do this?” the gentle look in his gaze is the same he’s always given you. this whole time he was admiring you from afar, and you had no idea until this very moment.

a radiant smile overcomes your face, you nod your head and lean into him. luke’s other hand reaches up to hold the other side of your face. 

his lips finally meet yours, and the feeling can only be described as euphoric. you’ve dreamt of this happening for years and years, but nothing could compare to the real thing. his movements are gentle, guiding you through the moment. his lips are warm and welcoming. his hands move toward the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side and deepening the kiss. 

moments pass before you finally pull back, making an attempt at catching your breath. luke, refusing to let you go, happily places small kisses over your lips and cheeks. you throw your head backwards and giggle as luke wraps his arms around you. 

“i suppose this means you definitely like me too, right?” one of his hands is gently playing with the hair that frames your face, as the other is rubbing your back. “you’d be stupid to think otherwise, luke castellan.” you respond and smile, leaning into his soft touch. he takes this moment to kiss you once more before pulling you into his chest. the two of you sit there for a few moments, enjoying the moment. 

“we should probably go to dinner before chiron sends someone looking for us” he speaks and leans up. you follow his movements and nod your head slightly. luke stands to his feet and gives you his hand, pulling you to your own feet as well. he places one more kiss on your lips before guiding the both of you toward the cabin door. 

as usual he joins you and your siblings, the apollo cabin, for dinner. this night, he sits closer to you, holding your hand under the table and drawing small circles around your fingers. every now and again, you share a look and smile before returning to the conversion happening at the table. everything feels right, and you can't wait to spend forever with him.

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[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Thinking about bodyguard!Miguel O’Hara who was assigned to watch over you from your manager after finally getting your big break with the last movie you starred in. Despite not being the main character, people still adored yours. Your name trending on twitter along with the rest of the cast.

Bodyguard!Miguel who intimidated the ever living shit out of you. Towering over you and your manager at 6’9 as he introduced him to you for the first time. Miguel staring straight ahead as your manager told you his experience, hands clasped behind his back, no emotion present on his face. Not even a crack of a smile when you joked about having scary dog privileges now, just an unassumed grunt and a deadpan glance at you.

Bodyguard!Miguel who would follow you everywhere when you would step out of the house. Never saying anything more than a handful of words, grunting and tsking more than talking, using his body language to communicate instead. Raising a brow is a silent ask if someone is bothering you, scrunching his nose as a way to decline your offer to get him something every time you get a coffee at the studio lot’s cafe. (You’ll still ask him every time despite him always saying no.) The first time he spoke a full sentence to you, you had to resist letting out a gasp.

Bodyguard!Miguel who wouldn’t admit it, but he almost let a smirk surface on his lips when he saw you freaking out over the phone when you were both out. Your manager Jake had called you during your daily walk when he dropped the bomb that you were going to get the female lead for a new movie you auditioned for a few weeks ago. Finding it endearing how you were practically buzzing with excitement on the rest of your walk.

Bodyguard!Miguel who almost beat up some random intern who kept hitting on you, despite you making it very clear you weren’t interested when you had arrived on your first day on set for the table read/ first cast meet up.

—

“Here’s your script, I’ll show you towards the reading room.” Said the young twenty-something old, as he handed you the script before nodding towards the corridor of the backlot, you thanked him and followed behind him, Miguel trailing along as well. Not missing the way the guy had eyed you up and down.

“I really liked you in your last movie, you're really funny.” He quipped as he turned to look over his shoulder to look at you, slowing down his steps until he was matching your pace. You just gave him another smile and took a sip of your iced coffee before speaking.

“Oh, thank you! That’s good to hear.”

“Yeah, um… hey if you weren’t busy after this, I was wondering if you wanted to go get lunch.”

“Oh… um, I’m good, thank you though.” You wanted to be nice, but you weren’t really looking for anything at the moment, wanting to focus on your career. Your response didn’t seem to satisfy the intern though. You can tell by the way his brows scrunched together for a second in irritation before the expression fell back to a nonchalant one.

“Come onnn, I know this really good burger spot downtown-“

“I’m okay-“

“Do you not want burgers? We can get sushi or-“

“Umm-“

“She said she’s good.” Miguel’s hardened voice always sent a shiver down your spine, having to take a step back when he put himself between you and the shorter male, if looks could kill…

“Lo-look man… I-I’m not trying to cause any trouble.” The cocky attitude immediately vanished from the intern, his hands now shaky as they were raised in a defensive manner.

“How about you just show her where she has to go hmm?” It wasn’t a suggestion.

Needless to say he didn’t speak another peep to you the rest of the walk.

—

Part 2<

Not proofread.

Word count: 600

taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf (if you want to be added for part two, click here)

[the-head-ancho-chilli]

The Hashira’s Favourite Hugs

Happy Valentines day everyone! Enjoy some lovin from your favourite Hashira ^^

Requests and asks are still open :)

Word count: 4k~

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mmmm

Prepare to be swept off your feet (literally)

Approaching our very own love Hashira and requesting a hug will be met with the same excitement no matter what

“Huh? Do you want a hug? Of course! Come here sweetie, let me hold you for a bit!”

She will be SO HAPPY if you asked ^^

Mitsuri may squeeze you a little, but never too much

Her goal is to get you as close to her as possible, no gap spared between you two

She’s honestly one of the best huggers here

Depending on your height, she’ll either prop her chin on either your head or shoulder

She’s a little warm from her flustering, but still enthusiastic nonetheless

If your head is tucked away, she’ll focus on swaying you both side to side in a rocking motion

Almost as if you two were dancing

But if you face is out in the open, Mitsuri will not waste a second before peppering your entire face in kisses

She tries her best to make you feel loved

Mitsuri absolutely adores hugs so she’ll never turn you down

She likes cooing about how much she loves you while the two of you hold each other

“Oh you make my heart skip a beat! I love you so much!!!”

Compliments will not be held back here, Mitsuri will go above and beyond

SHE MEANS EVERY SINGLE ONE, DONT YOU DARE DOUBT YOURSELF

But even the love Hashira has a favourite hug

Mitsuri was once gone for more than a week on some business that she had to attend to

You missed her terribly, and you grew more worried as time passed by

While lounging in your shared bedroom, you heard the door open and close as your love cheered “Honey, I’m home!”

You sprinted across the house, found Mitsuri and leapt into her arms, yours pulling her in by her neck

Seizing momentum while she had it, Mitsuri spun the two of you around while you were still in the air

But when the two of you had spun enough and she tried to put you down, she realized that your legs were around her waist

You were almost clinging onto her like a koala, and something inside of her melted

She was internally squealing at how affectionate you were :)

Mitsuri’s favourite hugs are ones where she can use her strength, often by lifting you up into her arms

“Sweetie it’s late, let me carry you to bed, okay?”

It just makes her feel strong and cherished

Would absolutely carry you around like this all the time if you let her

Obanai Iguro

He acts like he hates them

Do not underestimate him and the complete unadulterated adoration he has for you and the few people he lets near his heart

Obanai is just not used to that kind of thing, and it really stresses him out

If you asked him for a hug he would just shoot you a critical stare before groaning out an "Ughhh, fine. Come here"

You would be doing all the work here

Even if you have both your arms wrapped around him, your head resting on his shoulder, he still won't move

Obanai is really stiff about it

If you're lucky, he'll MAYBE pat your back unenthusiastically

Truth be told, Obanai doesn't let people touch him often so he wouldn't have much experience in it by far

Now if you ASKED him what is favourite hug is, he would say the side squeeze he gives you in public

Obanai can get overprotective easily, but he doesn't like showing it

He rarely misunderstands when someone is just being nice or affectionate in a platonic manner and when someone is actually hitting on you

If he sees someone making moves on you or just making you uncomfortable in general, he will glide over there and put his hand in your back pocket

Effectively pulling you into a very tense side hug

Obanai wouldn't say anything, but his main line of protection is his very judgmental look at his target

He wants you to believe that he's tough and all, that guarding you from danger is his greatest joy

But Obanai is really soft

His actual favourite hugs are what he refers to as "Sweater Time"

If you have larger sweaters than he does, he will pull the bottom hem of it up for a minute and pull it over his head

If he's taller than you then he just tucks you underneath the hem of his

Basically the two of you are wearing the same, spacious sweater

He's close enough that just fitting into it doesn't make you feel like you need to wrap your arms around him

But Obanai might pull you in if he just really needs your touch

He absolutely loves holding your face and resting his forehead on yours, absentmindedly tracing your jaw

Takes the opportunity to look into your eyes but Obanai doesn’t hold eye contact for long

So very warm :)

Tengen Uzui

Ohohoho

You’re in for a ride, that’s for sure

If you ask Tengen for a hug, he’s gonna be so snarky about it

He’ll make you confirm it like 5 times

“Hmm? You want a hug from the God of Festivals? Ahhh, of course, anyone would want to be in my arms! Come closer and claim you prize from yours truly~”

Tengen will motion you towards him, hinting to put your arms around him

Most of the time he’ll tease you about it, but sometimes Tengen will just flash a smile and pull you in

He’s pretty strong so his hugs are pretty tight by default

You can smell a hint of the cologne he uses, which is never too strong in the first place

Loves pressing you in by the small of your back, he can’t explain why though

Tengen’s hands just gravitate there, no lower or higher

Even when you two are already hugging, Tengen will not be able to resist teasing you

He is RELENTLESS about it too

Even if Tengen gets annoying with how affectionate you can be, he doesn't really mean it

Because every now and then, he just needs you there with him for a bit

It doesn't happen often but Tengen does have nights where he just can't sleep

You wouldn't know if its stress, repetitive thoughts or nightmares simply because he refuses to tell you

When he just lies there in the early hours of the morning, he'll carefully drag whoever is nearest towards him

This particular instance, you barely stirred awake as Tengen lifted your body to lie atop of his

Sensing your arousal from slumber, Tengen already hushes you back to sleep

"It's okay baby," he coos. "Just needed you a little closer. Get some rest"

If you happen to stay awake, he'll continue his attempts to get you to fall asleep again as he would honestly prefer for you to stay asleep when he's like this

Because when Tengen feels the worst of himself haunt his thoughts with all the memories and pain that he carries everywhere, nothing soothes him more than you pulling him closer whilst dreaming

This unconscious "I love you" of yours never fails to bring a sad smile and a few tears of love rolling down his cheeks

Pulls you even closer as he feels joy spread throughout his chest like fireworks

Yes, this is his favourite, and he will reward your efforts with forehead kisses and gently stroking your spine

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Either he has rabies or he just snarled at you

“Why the fuck are your arms like that? Are you looking for a fight?”

If you ask Sanemi for a hug, expect some backlash

See, all you wanted was some affection and somehow he's looking at you like you have two heads or something

"No you jerk, I just want a hug..."

Sanemi is pretty circumstantial with hugs, but he's not like Obanai where he's hiding how soft he really is

In reality, he would prefer that you got a hug from someone else

"Isn't it Mitsuri's day off? She should be in the garden at Shinobu's place"

Due to his workaholic nature, Sanemi doesn't think that he would be the best person for when you want affection

And its not because he hates affection nor does he find you annoying

Sanemi just think that because he's sweaty, covered in a bit of blood and is exhausted beyond belief, that maybe someone else's hug may bring more comfort than he could

But if there's no one else around...

"Mitsuri took a trip to a resort in the mountains, and you're already here"

With a roll of his eyes, Sanemi will acquiesce

"Get over here, you dork"

I will advise you however, that hug will not last more than three seconds

He will be firm in the hug, and maybe he'll give you a few pats on the back, but that's all you're getting

"There, now no more distractions. I've got some unfinished buisness..."

He will immediately turn away and go back to whatever he was doing

Honestly, he's trying to hide how (minorly) flustered he is by your sudden request for affection, but it's not surprising enough for him to let up a little on his unspoken self-consciousness

No, that would take at least a decade of attempts to make any progress

Just take his huffiness with a bit of grace; Sanemi just isn't the best person to go to when you want a hug

But if you come to him with tears dribbling down your cheeks, and a pained expression on your face

If you come to him with opened arms and a few sobs choked in your throat

If you push aside your dignity to allow Sanemi to see you at your worst, and a look in your eyes that shows that he's the only one who can alleviate the pain

"I've got you, I'm not going anywhere. I've got you"

He won't hesitate to immediately pull you in

There's something in the way you hold onto him that makes him believe that maybe, just maybe, he's not as bad as he thought

Hugs like these are his favourite, when he can push out his insecurities and hug you just for the sake of hugging you

Yeah, he's no good for hugging you when you want it

But he's perfect at it when you need it

Shinobu Kocho

She’s kinda iffy with them, but she does have her own preferences

If you approach Shinobu and you ask for a hug, she’ll open her arms to you and motion you toward her

“Oh my, my dear do you need a hug? No need to worry Angel, I’m right here”

She’s definitely shorter than you so she’ll normally press her face into your chest while the two of you embrace

Shinobu likes listening to your heartbeat, and sometimes seizes the opportunity to check your health

Usually she does it because she finds it soothing

Other times, Shinobu just worries even if she knows she has no reason to

Believe it or not but she doesn’t like being held

Shinobu will never breathe a word of it, especially if you’re really affectionate

Would never ask you to stop, she just wouldn’t go out of her way to ask you to hold her

You would think after learning this that Shinobu just doesn’t like physical affection

While cooking some dinner for the two of you, your mind will start to wander about Shinobu

She spends so much time studying medicine that you hardly saw her all day today

You missed her dearly

But then you feel two arms snake around your waist, and someone pressing into your back

The smell of wisteria and rubbing alcohol wafting around you

Yes, it’s true that Shinobu doesn’t like being held

But she LOVES holding you close

In bed she’s the big spoon, she hangs onto you when you share showers, her arms will wrap around your neck when she checks up on you working at your desk

But right now?

You cooking and talking about your day, while she hums along?

Feeling you relax into her touch as she hops up on her toes to press her forehead into your neck?

Yes, this is Shinobu’s favourite

There is no place she would rather be

PLEASE LET HER HYG YOU AS YOU DO STUFF

Shinobu is the type of person where she just loves existing in the same space as you, but with her chest pressed against your back

Overall, back hugs enthusiast

Kyojuro Rengoku

CUDDLE MANNNN

Look me in my eyes and tell me that he isn’t the best hugger here

If you ask Kyojuro for a hug, he would be so honoured to give you one

“But of course my love! Please allow me to give you a proper embrace!”

He’s so soft and warm you could melt away

Depending on how you are when you asked, he will either ask you about your day or stay very quiet for you

Our sunshine boy can brighten even the stormiest days

Kyojuro’s very versatile with affection, so if he knows you have a preference he will heed to it at once

Head scratches, back rubs, shoulder pats, you name it

He’ll do it all for you

If it’s possible in the moment, he will give you a loving kiss on the forehead

With how affectionate Kyojuro is, you would think maybe he doesn’t have a favourite hug but that’s not true

“My love! I have finished my project, sit down with me so I may share it with you!”

You had just came back from the kitchen with two cups of tea, setting them on the coffee table

Kyojuro sat on the floor with his legs crossed, arms open and motioning you towards him

Initially you were confused with how close you stood near him, but Kyojuro still hurriedly motioned you towards him

He softly held onto your hips, turning you away from him, and pulled you down so you sat on the floor with him

You were basically sitting in Kyojuro’s lap

He had one arm around your waist, using the other hand to pull the box he was working on for the past couple weeks across the table towards the both of you

It was a time capsule of various items and mementos of time spent with you and his friends

Although the two of you were reminiscing on the memories made , Kyojuro’s focus lied in how comfortable you were to hold in his lap

He fantasizes of turning you around to face him so he could be all romantic and look into your eyes

But yes, Kyojuro’s favourite hugs are the ones where you are seated in his lap

If you want to hug him as well, Kyojuro will spin you around so you can cuddle all you’d like :)

Big or small, he can handle you no problem

Don’t ever worry about being too heavy ^^

Giyu Tomioka

Also iffy but for different reasons

To be completely honest Giyu has no idea what he’s doing

And he doesn’t know if he should tell you

The last thing he would want is to come off as unapproachable (even if he’s aware that most of his peers don’t like him)

If you ask Giyu for a hug, he’ll just nod and open his arms slightly

When you close in on the hug though, his arms aren’t even touching you

They just stay there… hovering…

Good grief help this man

“Giyu, what are you doing…” “Hugging you?” He mumbled

HE DOESN’T EVEN SOUND SURE

There’s no way around it, you have to show him how it’s done

“Let me show you Giyu, put your arms like this-“

He’s still learning so please be patient with him

Even after you two practice a couple times, he’s still awkward about it

Very light grip on his end, he feels like if he were to actually put pressure in his hugging it might disturb you somehow

Like what if he's hugging too tight? What if you want to escape his hold earlier than you thought??? What if he's doing this wrong?????

After you two have hugged in a couple other ways, he starts developing preferences

For an example, he likes draping his arms on your shoulders in a way that they fall down your back

Giyu feels like he’s not bothering you too much this way, and it’s natural enough for him to not overthink it

His first natural instinct isn’t usually physical affection, and Giyu wouldn’t even be able to firmly place what his favourite hug would be due to his lack of experience

But one time you greeted him after he came back from a particularly rough mission

Idk he was just standing in the middle of his yard looking lost and worn out

You tried to talk to him but he was unresponsive, so you just pulled him in

His arms still rested at his sides but from the way that his chin rested on your shoulder, you couldn't have seen it but there was a twinkle in his eye

When you pulled away with a smile and bade him goodbye, you genuinely restored something in him

This is Giyu's favourite hug; ones where you just hold him close without an expectation that he has to reciprocate something

Next time you saw him seated at his desk and writing in his journal you noticed it

You almost missed it but it was most definitely there

A tiny smile was on his face as he printed his thoughts onto the paper

Gyomei Himejima

You wouldn’t notice right away, but he’s actually awkward with hugs

This gentle giant is so huge and you’re so small in comparison he doesn’t know what to do

So if you ask Gyomei for a hug, you're gonna have to be more specific

"You want a hug? Of course. May you please elaborate on your preferences?"

Boundaries are very important to Gyomei

He would prefer if you could have a discussion before you need a hug where you list the things you are and are not okay with when it comes to touch

But if neither of you have had that discussion, just describe what you need from this specific case and that'll suffice for Gyomei

Once that's done, Gyomei will only then allow you to wrap your arms around him

The most common tendencies he tends to gravitate to is petting your head and rubbing your back gently

I will warn you that unless you specify that you don't like getting picked up, Gyomei may unintentionally lift you off the ground by a couple inches

Honestly, he forgot how huge he is and he thought you were taller

If you want to return some level of affection to Gyomei, I would suggest singing some praises for him or making generally happy noises :)

He particularly likes it if you coo a small "Dawwwwwww" or let out a pleased hum, it just pulls a wide grin out of him

When you two eventually pull away, he will without a doubt rustle your hair or pat your head

"Are you feeling better? I'm always here for you, remember that"

His biggest priority whilst showing you affection is ensuring that he leaves you in a better state than he found you

Be it physically, mentally, or emotionally, Gyomei will always be ready to take care of you

Even if he's oddly stiff about it

You see, Gyomei is hyperaware of his size and it sometimes conflicts with his confidence in coming off as passive and kind

It's really hard to be perceived as non-threatening when you're 7'2 and one of the strongest Hashira

So he tries to establish boundaries with you not just to respect you and ensure he's not crossing any lines, but also to make him feel safe and comfortable in being affectionate with you

I will add however, Gyomei doesn't have any physical boundaries with you (except killing another living thing without full disclosure)

So imagine his surprise when you ask if you can try lifting him

"You can certainly try- ouf!"

He was interrupted with your efforts to pick him up

Regardless if you manage to get him an inch off the ground, your determination still has him flustered

Gyomei finds your strength and playfulness endearing, letting a soft chuckle at your smaller stature trying to lift his gigantic self

But he'll heartily tell you to put him down before you start to over exert yourself

Gyomei will hold onto you for a little longer in thanks though :)

Because Gyomei's favourite hugs are the ones that make him feel small and cared for, rather than large and nurturing

He appreciates how you remind him of that side of him

Muichiro Tokito (Platonic)

Muichiro needs a good measure of caution if you're going to be affectionate with him

Initially most people would think that it's because you would have to try a couple times to get his attention with the amount of times that he spaces out

But honestly, if you hug him without warning he gets scared

If you ever did pull him into your arms whilst his mind was elsewhere, you can see Muichiro start to panic

He won't say anything about it, just standing very very still

But Muichiro is visibly uncomfortable

I mean think about it, imagine how startling it could be if you were just minding your own business and out of nowhere, someone's in your personal bubble

It makes Muichiro feel like he missed out on something important :/

His shoulders will be shaking as he looks around the person who's hugging him, trying to gauge what kind of situation he's in and what would be the appropriate reaction

Muichiro doesn't really like hugs in general so I wouldn't recommend hugging him in the first place

If anything, Muichiro feels bad because everyone just assumes that because he's a kid that he likes hugs and being coddled

So if you ask him for a hug, he'll politely turn you down

"A hug? Sorry, I'm not a hugger..."

He really doesn't mean it maliciously so please don't hold any hard feelings about it

It's only a personal boundary, he just hopes that you'll respect it

If you want to be affectionate with him, then I would suggest handshakes :)

But I will also raise that there may be a time where Muichiro may want to give you a hug

It's usually when someone accomplishes some kind of feat, and Muichiro just feels really proud of them

So his favourite hugs are the ones that he initiates (usually out of pride)

Muichiro will always do it with his arms wrapped around your waist and pressing his face into your middle

Hugging him back isn't his favourite, but now would be a great opportunity for head pats ^^

Muichiro loves those

Overall you just need to be patient and understanding with Muichiro, and just trust that he will come to you

And you know what, if you really need that hug then Muichiro will at least go out of his way to cheer you up

It just might not be the way that you would expect

꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚ ꒷꒦˚︶︶꒦꒷︶꒷꒦˚

Let me know if I should do this prompt for the Demons too!

Reminder to read the rules before submitting any asks or requests ^^

[lewisvinga]

american | logan sargeant

summary; y/n was never one to mess around and rebel against her parents, until she met a fellow american, logan

warnings; clubbing/partying, drinking

word count; 1.15k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; american boyyyy, not rlly proofread tbh

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

“Y/n, fix your posture and stand up straight.”

Y/n’s mother scolded her as they entered a family friend's house. They were invited to an event to kick off the summer at the Sargeants, friends of the L/n family, in Miami.

Y/n sighed as she listened to her mother and stood straight, fixing her knee-length dress. She was never one to disobey her parents. Despite studying at the University of Miami, she never attended parties or drank. She never rebelled.

Her mother hums in satisfaction as they walk farther into the house to head to the backyard where everyone is. Y/n was soft-spoken and quiet, following her parents around as they greeted everyone.

But after an hour, she got thirsty and decided to get a bottle of water. The water cooler was right next to the beers and other alcoholic beverages. She glanced at the cooler for a second too long when a voice interrupted her.

“Well, Y/n L/n. You look so pretty.”

She looked up in shock and was met with familiar icy blue eyes and a cheeky smile she hadn’t seen since she was 13. “Logan! You’re back?” She exclaimed with a smile.

“It’s been a hot minute but the Miami Grand Prix is next week and I had this week off.” The Blonde explained with a smile. His head then nodded towards the cooler of the alcoholic beverages, “Which one do you like?”

“Oh, no!” Y/n exclaimed, quickly shaking her head before reaching for a water bottle. “I don’t drink. Never have.”

“And you go to UMiami and you don’t drink? At all?”

She simply shrugged in reply, fiddling with the ends of her yellow sundress. “No. Don’t really party either. But it’s fine, I like to focus on studying-“

“Nonsense!” Logan interrupted her, “You’re still a goody two shoes. You were always scared to step out of line.” He chuckled.

Her eyebrows furrowed up as her cheeks started to heat up. “No!” She said in defense. “Maybe? I mean, I don’t want to break any of their rules. I’m grateful for all that they give me!”

“Hey,” The Williams driver began with a cheeky smile, “Wanna head out of here? Take a spin ‘round town. The weather's nice.”

His blue eyes remained on hers as she let out a small hum. She glanced back at her parents who were already drinking and busy talking to their friends. She looked at him with a smile before saying, “Fine. Let’s get out of here.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Oh, Springsteen!” Y/n exclaimed as the familiar voice of the singer began to play in Logan’s Porsche. The top was opened and there was a slight breeze as he drove through the neighborhood.

“Of course!” The Blonde replied, glancing over at her. “Dude he’s like the king. Don’t you think?” He said, tilting his head down so she could see his eyes from above his black sunglasses.

She chuckles as she adjusts the Prada glasses resting on her nose. “Oh, hell yes! That guy can sing. But personally, I’m a fan of Elvis.”

“Presley?” He asked in shock.

“Oh, yeah! He’s the best.”

“What’s your favorite record of his?”

“I’m a big fan of Burning Love at the moment.”

Thankfully, there was a red light right at the neighborhood exit. Logan reaches for his phone which is already connected to his car to play the song. Y/n couldn’t help but let out an excited laugh as the familiar intro began to play.

The light turned green and he began to drive on the main roads. The speed limit was higher which meant that as he sped down the roads, the strong winds compensated for the hot sun shining down on them.

Y/n felt very relaxed even though she and Logan secretly left the party. The breeze and Elvis’ voice relaxed her as she went into a deep conversation with him.

Thankfully, her glasses covered up her curious eyes as they glanced over him. He had gotten quite a bit of a tan but it made him glow in the Miami sun. He was much taller than when she had seen him last when they were 13. And if anything, he had gotten a lot more attractive.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his teasing voice. “What are you staring at?” He asked with a smile, noticing her glances at a red light.

She immediately froze in the spot and began to stutter. “I- Well. The trees are lovely and-“

“Relax! I’m just messing with you.” Logan said between laughs as he focused back on the road and the green light, “Besides, I think you’re pretty good-looking now too.”

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes as she leaned over to lightly slap his shoulder. She glances to her side, watching the buildings and people turn into a blur as the wind blows her hair behind.

Part of her wanted to stay obedient to her parents. After all, they were parents and provided everything for her. They paid for her college, her car, her clothes, and bags, the least she could do was listen to their rules.

But another part also wanted to be a carefree college student. She wanted to have fun and not regret her days in college. She wanted to be young, dope, and proud like an American.

She turned to look back at Logan before saying, “Let’s go clubbing. I want to have fun.”

The blonde looked at her shocked before his lips curled into a smile. “Oh yeah? What’s gotten into you?”

“Just done with being afraid to break my parents' rule. I want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Well, it’s Miami, so we gotta get you a new dress.”

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as she glanced down at her long yellow sundress, brown Hermes sandals, and white cardigan. “What’s wrong with my outfit?” She asked with a frown.

Logan raised his eyebrow. “Y/n, you’ve lived in Miami your whole life. The party scene is different here.” He explained, taking a right turn which fortunately for them, was a shopping center. “Honey, you need to put on that party dress. Like you said, you want to be young, wild, and free.”

“Fine,” Y/n said with a smile as he searched for parking. “But you’re coming with me! I have my dad’s credit card and a mall filled with designer stores. And I’m gonna make sure I find the right outfit.” She grasps her Chanel bag as Logan exits the car and quickly rushes to her side to open the door.

“Well, anything to be young, dope, and proud, right?” He said, holding his arm out. She immediately hooked her arm with his, ignoring the faint blush on both of their faces.

She glanced up at his ice-blue eyes as she let out a content sigh, “Like an American.”

[arachniee]

                          ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃 ii.  He once was mine.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim!reader (main couple)

                              (side couple) Adam x Seraphim!reader   ┈➤        

જ⁀➴       Summary : After he fell from grace, you did your best to move on. Drowning yourself in knowledge, hoping that if you continued to fill your mind with information, you’d eventually forget about him. All the effort you put into it was useless in the end and everything came crumbling down after you met his daughter. 

જ⁀➴         Warnings: cussing, mentions of wounds and injuries, not proofread; there might be grammatical errors, mc is a workaholic insomniac

જ⁀➴        Note: Alright, so here’s part two. Not what you expected? Well, this series has more parts than you think and I’m determined to make each one surprisingly focus on something different from what you’d expect. The second part of ‘medical haywire’ is still in progress and heavy editing but it’s on its way. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this lol, word count: roughly around 6.7-6.8k  part one

╰┈➤ The current situation was… surprising, to say the least. As you sat still, frozen on your chair, your eyes were glued to the young blonde lady. As much as you wanted to look away, as much as the gut-wrenching feeling in the pit of your stomach urged you to shift your gaze, you went against it. It was overwhelmingly ironic. You tried almost everything to forget him, and all it took was one look at his daughter for all those efforts to be wasted. Would you have admitted it? That the reason you couldn’t look away was because she looked almost identical to her father? The hair, the eyes, the smile, the aura, it was all just as you remembered. Was it Deja Vu? Or was it because you never really wanted to forget him? 

The second you felt a pang in your chest, you tried to regain composure. The walls felt like they were closing in, the world was spiraling endlessly in your mind. With a quick, sharp breath, you finally tore your gaze from the young lady and turned to face your fellow Seraphim. She was quite confused with the situation, feeling lost as she doesn’t really know what to do since this type of thing hasn’t happened before (at least to her). Once she felt your eyes on her, she tried to speak, wanting to somehow do something to help ease the tense atmosphere. 

“A-Alright! So I know that you’re really busy,”

Emily stuttered, taking a step closer to Charlie and gesturing to the princess’s injured hand. Of course, out of instinct, once your gaze fell back onto her, well, on her hand at least, she let out a smile that seemed as tense as the atmosphere. Vaggie noticed this, putting a hand on her lover’s shoulder to try and calm her down, just as how she always did. 

“But our dear guest has an injury and we wanted to see if you could check it out!” 

The young Seraphim finished, sending you a bright smile as she clasped her hands together. Even at her words, your eyes stayed on the princess's slightly bloodied hand. Her palm was red, red with her blood. I guess that it served as a reminder that her father was no longer an angel with blood that shined gold. Instead, the blood that flowed in his veins was a shade crimson. One a demon would be too familiar with. You let out a small and quiet sigh, leaning back on your chair and bending down slightly to reach one of your table’s drawers. 

Once you told them to seat Charlie on the couch on the left part of the room, the three rushed to follow your words. Your voice sounded so beautiful, melodic even. The blonde girl swore that she could fall asleep if you ever sang her a lullaby, wait, what was she even thinking? With the med-kit in your hold, you waited for them to finally settle down. You watched as Emily tried to put a pillow behind the princess to make her ‘more’ comfortable, the other frantically insisting that she’s comfortable enough. The interaction was quite the source of entertainment, you thought. Then again, you’ve been working non-stop, maybe not having access to entertainment slightly altered your standards.

Vaggie tried her best to stay quiet the whole time, hoping to not attract any attention, especially from you. She had a feeling that you recognized her, since she was one of the angels who you monitored for the extermination. She’d always do her best to maintain her health, wanting to be in the best condition to do her job properly. Of course, she’d had a few interactions with you before. But usually, just as when you were going to ask her a question regarding the previous exterminations, Adam would steal you away from her and her group of fellow exorcists. 

She couldn’t really be sure, you’ve been alive since the beginning of almost everything, so there was a part of her that hoped you didn’t remember everything that you’ve known and learned. Including her. She couldn’t miss the way your eyes flickered towards her, even if it was just for a moment. She watched as you stood up, there was always this thing about you that seemed so elegant and graceful. Something that she never was. She looked up to you when she wasn’t a fallen one yet. The way you’d take pride in making sure the people around you are in tip-top shape, the way you’d make sure to do your job with perfection. She kept her gaze on your face, scanning your features. You hadn’t changed that much since the last time she saw you, though, you did look a little more drowsy and, well, tired. She couldn’t really help the concern that built within her, you did so much to make sure everyone got the care they needed (at least when she was still in heaven), but it seems that you’ve been neglecting yours up until now. 

“Gently now, let me have a look at that hand.”

Her eyes eventually landed on your larger hand holding her lover’s smaller, injured one. She wanted to help but she knew better than to interrupt an expert at what they do best. Though when Charlie let out a small hiss at the disinfectant you sprayed onto the injury, she perked up and scooted closer to the princess. 

As soon as your fingertips made contact with her hand, Charlie's nerves somehow stopped going haywire. Your touch is… calming, she thought. But your hands were so cold, she didn't want to put much thought into that, so she chose to believe that it's because of the air conditioning in the room. On the contrary of what others think of her, Charlie never really had someone that cared and treated her. Yeah, she was the princess of hell, but when her parents parted ways, she was all alone in her little world. She learned that she must be independent, regardless of her royal status. 

So as your hands worked to delicately treat her injury, she felt warm. Vaggie has been the only one to properly take care of her, so now that another person did help her, she was grateful for the experience and feeling of being cared for. Emily was watching intently from beside the princess, seated on her left while Vaggie was on Charlie’s right. She has never seen you do your work personally, and now she finds it so interesting. She smiled as you finally wrapped a clean bandage around the princess’s hand and tidied your equipment, putting them back inside the med-kit.

She thanked you as she stood up and tried to help you throw away the used medical equipment that laid on the coffee table. As she walked towards the trash can, she turned around to momentarily glance at you when she heard you speak.

“Charlotte, was it?” 

No matter how many times your voice rings through her ears, Charlie thought she could never get used to the softness and gentleness that was laced within it. All of her attention was focused on you, each word that spilled from your lips etched itself into her mind. As she cradled her hand, which was now neatly and meticulously wrapped in bandages, she answered.

“Y-Yes! Charlotte Morningstar, but you can call me Charlie!” 

She seemed to gain a little bit of her confidence now, and surprisingly, you were somewhat glad. You couldn’t deny the fact that she seemed like a kind person with how her energy leaked of positivity. But that slight pang that made your chest ache after hearing her last name never went unnoticed by you, it was subtle, but it was there. Why were you so affected by it? Haven’t you moved on and changed? Didn’t your heart and mind agree to let go for your own good? Your thoughts were running miles in the back of your mind. But that bright smile that Charlie sent your way made you unconsciously pause. Unintentionally, your eyes softened ever so slightly. 

“I am (Name), a Seraphim. Pleased to make your acquaintance, young Morningstar.”

The way her last name rolled off your tongue was bittersweet. The pain from the bitterness came with the tenderness that you’ve been craving desperately for eons. You’re usually zoning out, playing every positive memory you had with a certain someone just to somehow neutralize the pain, but it always ended up worsening that throbbing pain in your soul.

The only time you ever found yourself free from those wretched emotions and feelings were when Adam was in the vicinity. As much as you used to deny it, you’ve grown accustomed to his presence. No, you’ve grown attached to it, better yet, grown attached to him. It was quite draining to interact with the first man, but it was worth every bit of energy you’ve lost, because as time passed, he became your battery. Your source of energy, at some point, that is. You soon faced Vaggie, an eyebrow raised in questioning. 

“And may I know who this charming young lady is?”

What an act. You never forgot her, up to this day. But of course, you don’t know her life in hell and what secrets she may be hiding from her lover, so all you could do was to act as clueless as a stranger. You could call it respect, sure, but to you, the reason for it was because you’d chosen to just not meddle with other people’s business. The princess smiled with glee as she linked her arm with her girlfriend’s.

“This is my beautiful girlfriend, Vaggie!” 

Vaggie smiled at the compliment Charlie threw in the introduction. To know that despite her disappearance in heaven, you felt a string of relief when you realized that she found her home down there. That feeling of envy somehow crept up on you. She had fallen, an angel that was forsaken, and yet she seemed to have been blessed with a better life than you ever were. You did so much for heaven, much, much more than what she has done. But why were you still stuck in your madness? When will you meet a person who’ll treat and love you just as how the princess of hell loved her? 

“A pleasure to meet you as well.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, Vaggie doing the same, though it seemed more like a bow in your opinion. But you didn’t dwell on that any further. Charlie smiled, very happy with your little interaction. The princess of hell reminded you so much of Emily, in many ways too. The said Seraphim soon took her place beside you as you handed the princess a few packets of new bandages, just in case her injury bleeds more than anticipated. She thanked you and pocketed the little packets before reaching for her wallet. Emily saw this and immediately spoke, waving her hands dismissively at Charlie. 

“Oh, no no, Let me pay! I was responsible, after all.”

She urged Charlie to keep her money, but the princess insisted. Vaggie couldn’t help but smile a little, uncharacteristically maybe, but seeing how similar the two are, she had hopes that they’d become good friends and that Emily may be able to provide great assistance to her lover’s dream. The more support they have, the more convincing it would be for others. 

“There’s no need for such.” 

Your voice interrupted their little, polite bickering. You somehow regret it now as the two included you in their small quarrel. You sweatdropped as they continued insisting on paying. Emily almost shoved the money in your hands, though another voice rang through all the chaos. Vaggie’s smile fell as she realized that the cute, wholesome, and amusing little fight was interrupted. 

“Doc, lab room 4 has been prepared and is ready as per your orders.”

You recognized the voice from the other side of the door, one of your newer scientists. You focused on the young girls before you, sighing quietly with content now that this little feud can be avoided. The princess and young seraphim were still trying to get you to accept the money, but you raised your hand to dismiss their attempts. Watching them deflate as they finally accepted the fact that you won’t take their money. You found it very amusing, as did Vaggie. You walked back to your table, going around it and grabbing the white lab coat that rested on your chair. 

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, young Morningstar. But duty calls, as they say.” 

The moment you turned around, she was sure that you really were the woman that her father secretly drew when she was still a child. The colors of your wings were almost the exact same shade, exact same size in terms of proportions with the drawing that she vividly remembered. They were so captivating, though she’d only been able to see a glimpse of them, a small portion peeking from above your shoulders, a little bit from your sides, and below your hips. She didn’t notice it before, but you seemed to fold your wings, it was a random thought but she found it quite cute. 

Emily soon broke the silence that fell upon the room after a while, deeming it time for them to depart and leave you to work. Vaggie nodded along as she held Charlie’s uninjured hand and gestured to the door. The princess thanked you again along with Emily and Vaggie. But before they could exit the room, your voice called out to them, or to her, at least. 

“May I have a word with you privately, Vagatha?”

On que, Charlie was confused on why her girlfriend seemed to tense up at your request. The princess herself was quite perplexed with it, but she didn’t really have a reason to stop Vaggie. It’s not like you were going to hurt her, right? She soon joined Emily after telling her girlfriend that they’d be waiting in the hospital’s lobby. 

As Charlie and the young seraphim walked down the halls, a few angels greeted them here and there, the princess realized something. You knew Vaggie’s real name? Did you know her prior to this meeting? Is that why Vaggie was so nervous when you asked to talk to her? But how’d you know each other? She was a demon, and you were an angel, not only an angel, a seraphim at that. Her thoughts were running a mile per minute, very confused and yet interested in this matter. She’d have to ask her girlfriend about this after you’ve had you talk. 

Once the two had left, the silence filled the room once again. Vaggie didn’t speak, waiting for you to speak and tell her why you held her back. She watched as you made your way to the front of your table, leaning back on it slightly. Your gaze was hard and piercing, just like the atmosphere in the room. Her nerves were going crazy, she was sure that you’d ask her about what happened to her, and the thought itself made her frown.

But as soon as she raised her gaze to meet yours, she was speechless. Mouth slightly agape, eyes wide and her eyebrows way above them. For the first time since they entered the room, your face was painted beautifully with a smile. It was small, anyone else wouldn’t have noticed it, but she did. And she knew. The way your eyes were softly scanning her face, the way you seemed to look…content? No words seem to come out of her, staring back at you with what she hoped was the same amount of tranquility as yours. 

“I’m glad to have met you once again, Vagatha.” 

Your aura was nothing short of relaxed, as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You may not admitted it to anyone, but you’ve grown to be slightly attached to all of your patients, including the exterminators. As much as you were against their job, you still did yours. And that was to make sure that they were well. After Vagatha’s disappearance, you were very concerned for her. She had been lost and left back at hell, a place where nothing but bad happened. You wanted to go down there yourself, but Sera reminded you of your duties. You realized that Vagatha may have needed you, but heaven needed you more. The guilt was killing you, and you suspected that she may not have been feeling well which is why she must’ve lost to a demon. You were partially responsible, in a way.

Vagatha was still star-struck. All her (after) life in heaven, you were there. Monitoring her health, her mental state, and her overall well-being. She knew you did it for the extermination’s sake, but she hoped, deep down, that you did it because you genuinely cared. You were like a big sibling to all the exorcists, always scolding them if they were eating too much junk food. She’d remember the times that you’d spend your rare, 10 minute breaks to watch them train. Sometimes you’d give advice, informing them of a body’s weak spots, you knew that an angel and a demon’s biology may be different, you still wanted to tell them hoping that the information helped. And they were thankful for it, just the thought that you wanted to help, it was enough. You were their family, you were her family. 

When she was left to die in the Pride ring, she met Charlie, who then became her family. She may have lost you, she knew you’d be happy that she found home in hell. She didn’t regret anything. She didn’t regret letting that demon child escape and all the consequences that came with it. She promised you that she’d be the best. She didn’t just mean that in her job, she meant it as a person. And she knew you’d understand her, not like the others. 

With every passing day, she hoped that you didn’t forget about her. As selfish as that wish was, she still wanted to see you again. She didn’t know how, but she wanted to meet you again. When Charlie brought up the idea of the redemption program for demons, she genuinely supported her lover. But there was a small sliver of desire in her actions, an intention to reunite with you. And to know that you still remembered her, it filled her heart with warmth just like how you used to. 

No word in the dictionary could ever describe the way she was feeling. She was overwhelmed with emotions, trying so hard not to let these feelings activate the water works. But when your steps echoed through the silence, she felt your arms cage her in a secure embrace. It was like you were afraid of letting go and potentially losing her again. It took all of her energy to not let the tears fall, she didn’t want to ruin your coat, after all. But instead, she latched herself onto you, holding you with the same strength. 

She was glad you didn’t ask about her wings. She was glad you didn’t ask her about her eye. She was glad you didn’t ask about what happened. Glad that you chose to just hold her as she tried to hold back her tears. Glad that you understood. Glad that you still accepted her despite what she did. 

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“What the fuck is taking her so long!?”

Adam complained, impatiently tapping on the table’s surface. Lute sighed at his antics, deeming his complaining as childish. But then again, you weren’t one to be tardy. You were very particular in terms of time, at least that’s what she knows. She stood with her hands behind her back, unconsciously anticipating your arrival. She was excited to meet you again, yeah, but she was more excited to get Adam to shut up with his complaining. She needed to cool down before she screamed at her boss. 

“Come on! She NEVER makes me wait! Something must’ve happened, don’t ‘ya think we shoul-” 

Before he could finish his statement, Lute cut him off. In the most respectful (passive) voice she could muster up with her little patience, she spoke.

“We do not need to look for her, Sir.”

Adam grumbled under his breath, complaining even more at her words. You usually spent your breaks with him, sometimes Lute would even be around. One of those times was now, well, you were supposed to be here by now at least. But you were nowhere to be found! Of course, he’d be fussy. Meeting up with you was the best part of his day. You were the only reason he did his work instead of giving it all to his lieutenant. He liked the way you praised him for it. He loved it. No, he needed it. 

His displeasure kept increasing with each minute that passed. He wanted to meet you before the meeting with the angelic court and rainbow bitch. And yet here he is, all alone. And no, Lute does not count as company. He only ever likes and acknowledges your company. He could be doing the most important things, like talking to Sera, but as soon as you were involved, may it be a mention of your name or you were present and in the flesh, he’d immediately drop everything to ramble on about how close you two were or take his place beside you and ramble to you about his day.

Sera was, at first, against your closeness with Adam, remembering the last time you opened your heart to someone. But of course, it was your choice and she’d support you no matter what. You seemed to be happy with him after all, and she was happy for you as well. And you seem to keep Adam in his place, what a great bonus, right?

Adam was about to complain again, but a knock came from the door. He instantly perked up, his mood brightening as he expected you to enter. But his eager demeanor was crushed to pieces when a voice resounded from the other side of the door. 

“I’m sorry to inform you, Sir, but Doctor (Name) wanted to let you know that she’d be working in the lab and will not be present today.” 

Adam was broken hearted, devastated, betrayed, furious, and every negative feeling you could say. Lute wanted to laugh at his face, he was obviously upset. She watched as he stood up, complaining about something along the lines of you cheating on him. How amusing, you two weren’t in a relationship, at least not yet. She’d be lying if she said that she’s not expecting it to happen, it was as obvious as Adam always spoke about you in such a light that it was harder to believe that he didn’t like you. 

Lute sighed as she soon followed him, keeping a distance to make sure her ears didn't bleed from his loud voice. She was curious as to why you didn’t show up since she knew how close you were with Adam, and maybe the fact that you always spent your short breaks with him.

Now don’t get her wrong, though she won’t admit it, she too is fond of you. She’s been one of the first exorcists you’ve taken care of. She saw how you’d help everyone who needed you, making sure they were in top condition. She was glad you were on board with the extermination, and maybe the fact that you always made sure to check on every one of the exorcists. The angels of the extermination were almost like her family, they’d train and eat together. And she was grateful for your help. 

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Adam had stopped walking, thus making her stop as well, right beside him. He was uncharacteristically quiet. His head was hanging low as he seemed to hold something in his hands. Curious, she peaked from his side. Her eyebrows raised as he held a box with his name on it. Is it a gift or something? But who in their right mind would give him a gift?

There seemed to be a note on it. As Adam was about to read it, he shifted his position a little bit to hide its contents from Lute, to which the woman shot him an unimpressed expression. As he did what he needed, she scanned the area to see if the person who gave him the gift was still present. Though no one except them were in the halls, even so, she noticed a small box sitting pretty beside the wall. It was gray, compared to Adam’s golden box. But she grabbed it nonetheless. There was also a note, and as she was about to open it, she heard the man beside her scream and squeal. She turned around to face him and was greeted with a box of fresh, steaming ribs in her face. 

“They’re from (Name)! Can you believe it?! Wait, of course you can! She likes me THAT much, after all!” 

His previous complaining was soon drowned out by his smug claims. Wow, wasn’t he just almost close to tearing up and throwing a tantrum because he thought you didn’t like him anymore? What a big baby. How do you tolerate him? Lute will never know. As she focused back on the box in her hands, was this from you as well? She took the small note, upon reading the contents, she unconsciously let a smile paint her face from beneath her mask. 

“To my dearest Lute, 

Just a small token for not showing up.

Consider it as an apology. 

Let’s meet another time, shall we? 

Have a great day. 

                                         - Sincerely,

                                            (Name)”

Man, you were so extra, needing to give gifts just because you couldn’t make it. Couldn’t you have just messaged them? But she wasn’t complaining, not at all. She was kind of happy you thought of giving her a gift as well, not just Adam. Most people saw her as his shadow, a person who they didn’t need to acknowledge. But you saw her for herself. Important enough that you didn’t invalidate her and her feelings, because of that, she often found herself seeking your presence, or anything about you in general. You were the only one who she could show her true self to, after all. Well, she may or may not be a little jealous that Adam’s box was bigger, she’d never admit it, of course. She doesn’t have to be as important as Adam, she was satisfied with being enough to be acknowledged.

“Hey, that from (Name) too? What’d she write? Don’t tell me she confessed her fucking love for yo-”

She immediately cut him off by shoving the note that she received from you in his face, considering it as payback for him shoving stuff in her’s. Adam shut up quite quickly as he read the note with such focus, mumbling the note’s contents. The way his letter was longer and more intimate than her’s made his ego skyrocket. It wasn’t like he was expecting you to write a note similar for Lute, of course not! He took one last glance at it before leaning back before smirking. Unfortunately, he spoke (much to Lute’s dismay).

“Hah! Damn right, it’s not like anyone else’s more important than THE first man himself! It’s only right that she put a lot more effort in mine.”

He grabbed the note from his box, once again, shoving it to her face with such pride. Man, she wanted to punch him. But she read your note to him nonetheless. Reading quietly compared to how Adam read whilst mumbling. The differences in the notes you wrote for them was (painfully) obvious. Adam took pride in that, of course. Lute was partially affected, but she knew she’d never be able to compare to him in your eyes. Though she already accepted that. 

“To my dearest, Adam

Forgive me for my absence, 

I know you are waiting for me.

A certain project needed more 

attention than anticipated.

I’ll make it up to you, 

Once we meet again next time. 

Be on your best behavior until then, yes?

I’ll be waiting for you. 

                                       Sincerely yours,

                                          -  (Name)”

Adam swore to himself that he’d frame this note and keep it in his bedroom. Only for him to see. He started thinking about everything he’d tell you once you’ve met again. He didn’t realize it, but he was spewing out his thoughts and it made Lute want to rip her hair out. She gets it, damnit! How many times does he have to openly talk about how much he likes you? God give her strength or else she’d bang her head against the wall she stood beside. As the gift lay pretty in her hands, she decided to just open it once she got home. She didn’t need to hear him ramble about how his gift was better than hers. For now, she needed to focus on the meeting with the princess of hell.

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The meeting was a disaster, from what you were told. 

You just got out of the lab when one of the angelic court members met you in your office, explaining the events that happened. You were worried for the princess and her lover when you heard every detail. But of course, you were more worried for Emily. You knew she was unaware of the extermination, to know that her sister was the one who ordered for it to happen must affect her greatly. You still had a ton of shit to finish, as always. But you wanted to make sure the princess and Vagatha went back to hell unscathed and well. Wait, you were willing to ditch your work just to make sure they were okay? 

Despite your inner turmoil, you made your way out of the hospital after informing your nurses and other doctors that you’d be gone for a while. They were curious about what made you leave your important work, as much of a workaholic you are, this just seemed so uncharacteristic of you but they didn’t question you about it. You were informed of their whereabouts, and your hospital was not too far from it, fortunately. 

As soon as they came into view, you came up to them with haste. Instantly calling out to them, you soon noticed the small portal from behind them. You also noticed Emily’s presence, you debated on whether to make your way up to her or the princess. Wait, you were hesitating? Why? Shouldn’t you check on Emily first? With hesitance, you took  a place beside the young seraphim to check if she was okay, caressing her face and examining for any scratch of some sort. As soon as you deemed her alright, you turned to Charlie, doing the same as you did with Emily. After the princess, you repeated your actions with Vagatha. 

Charlie was surprised to see you here, even more when you seemed so worried for her and her lover. It felt quite weird for a- well, stranger, to show this much care to her. She’s used to demons being fussy and mean upon meeting her, then again, you were an angel. So maybe that was the explanation she needed. She smiled as she watched you check her girlfriend for any injuries. What a warm feeling, she loves it. 

“(Name)? What are you doing here?” 

Emily asked first, wondering why you were here and not doing your work. Which is really important, by the way. She had a feeling Charlie and Vaggie were confused by your presence. You took a glance at her before turning back to the princess. A soft hand coming up to brush her bangs a little bit to the side, giving you a clearer view of her face.

Your touch is just as warm as the feeling you give her, she thought. Will you still be this kind to her after you heard her plan? Or would you go against it like Sera and the others? She hoped that you’d still be the same, welcoming and warm. Heck, she wanted you to agree with her plan. But it wasn’t impossible for you to deny her anymore of her dreams. What if you deemed redemption as ridiculous? Would you still look at her with the same, kind expression as you’re doing right now? Each question that ran through every corner and crevice of her mind, she started losing even more hope. You spoke to Charlie, voice barely above a whisper. But everyone heard it as clear as day, immediately perking up with wide eyes. 

“You have me on your side, young Morningstar.”

The feeling of warmth from deep within Charlie started sparking into firecrackers at your words. Her eyes instantly brightened as her whole demeanor did. Her smile was sparkling, and you somehow found yourself trying to mirror it with your own. This caused even more reactions, more specifically from Emily. She hasn’t seen you smile like this in ages, thus she too smiled with happiness at the sight before her. Now, Vagatha was no different, a bright smile painted on her face as well.

As you exchanged a few more words, laughs, and smiles, you knew you all had to get going. Your duties were probably piling up so high despite only being gone for less than an hour. With a last hug, you made sure to inform them of your stand once again. That you were on their side. It was all Charlie needed as a push to not lose all hope. To know that someone from heaven, one of the highest authorities, believed her and supported her dream. It was a solid factor to achieve the success of her plans, your support, that is. 

As you pulled away from each other’s embrace, Emily smiled as the princess and her lover thanked you once again. You were so amazing in her eyes. Aside from her sister, you were always the one she looked up to the most. After the revelation of the extermination, she started losing trust in Sera. Was there anything else that her sister had hid from her? Not only did she lie to her, Sera was even the one who ordered the extermination that killed many souls! Yes, they were demons, but she too believed that they deserved a second chance. 

You and your fellow seraphim watched as the princess and her lover waved goodbye, soon entering the portal that would send them back home. You turned around as your phone started vibrating, excusing yourself from Emily and answering it. Unbeknownst to you, another person from the other side of the portal had recognized you despite only seeing the back of your head and your wings.

.

.

.

.

.

Lucifer stood near the portal, waiting for his daughter and Vaggie. He relaxed as soon as he saw that they were alright and smiling. It made him think that heaven actually agreed to her plan for a second. He watched as Vaggie came out from the portal first, extending her hand to it. Soon enough, Charlie came out of it as well, her hand in Vaggie’s. 

Though he immediately rushed to his daughter once he saw the bandages wrapped around her hand. Asking her a bunch of questions such as “What the fuck happened?” and “Who did this to you?” Though his daughter would just brush her hand off and dismiss the topic, telling him it was merely an accident. But Lucifer wasn’t buying it, so he turned to the portal, making his way towards it before it closed.

He was stuck in his place, eyes wide, mouth agape as he drank in the sight before him. Time must’ve stopped because he couldn’t move nor speak at all. His gaze remained solely on the figure that had him frozen. Everything came rushing down at him, all the memories, all the experiences, all the pain. How funny, wasn’t he the one who turned away from you? So why was he so suffocated by just a glance at your back? He didn’t even know if it was really you. What if this person just had a similar hair color and the exact same wings? Yeah, what if?

You’ve grown taller, he noted.

He'd remember the times he would ask you to grab a book for him, which just happens to be on the highest of shelves. How convenient. He wasn't really interested in whatever topic the book discussed, no, he just wanted your attention. He'd be beaming with joy as soon as you stood up from where you sat, taking your place beside him and extending a hand to grab the book he was asking for. He'd thank you with a kiss, taking pride in the light sign of embarrassment on your face. You'd let out a small huff of air in amusement as he pretended to read the book's contents right after. 

Your hair has somehow grown longer than what he remembered. 

He'd remember the times that he would visit your libraries, searching every corner and crevice just to find you peacefully sleeping on one of the tables with your head on top of the book that rested on the wooden surface. He'd debate on whether he'd wake you up or not. But as soon as he heard your soft snoring, he'd smile and take a seat beside you. You were breathtaking, he thought. The way your skin reflected the sunlight, the way your hair would shine just as bright. Unconsciously, his hand would take a few strands of your hair, gently caressing them with his fingers. Soft, that was the only thought he had in mind.

Your wings were as beautiful and captivating as ever, were they still as soft as he recalled? 

He'd remember the times he'd practically beg you to let him touch your wings. You would often tell him to touch his own, but of course, he wanted to know how yours felt. Even after no matter how much you have allowed his fingertips to glide over you feathers, he's never gotten over how fluffy they felt under his touch. Sometimes, you'd be reading the most boring book (according to him) and he'd be seated beside you, leaning all of his body weight on your wings. You'd even let him fall asleep on them as he was lulled to slumber by your presence. 

But will he ever experience those again with you?

You seemed to be talking to someone on the phone, and god, he hoped that you wouldn’t turn around and see him in this state. The tears were already threatening to fall, his throat was suddenly so dry that it hurt. His hands were shaking as his nerves were. What would you do if you ever see him again? Would you run up to him and hug him? Would you smile and open your arms for him to run into? 

Or would you just stare at him with displeasure as you recalled all of the pain he caused you?

He’s been living with guilt ever since the day he fell from grace. He knew he left you, he knew he chose his dream instead of staying with you. He knew he fucked it all up. He’s wanted to apologize to you, trust him, he did. But he just… couldn’t bear to face you knowing the influence his actions had on you. Each passing time of his consciousness, he always wondered if you would have forgiven him. 

Have you forgiven him? 

It was a question that almost seemed like a chant, a chant for forgiveness. Your forgiveness. But he knew that the weight of his decision hurt you more than he could ever imagine. Did you think you weren’t enough for him to stay? Did you blame yourself for not being able to convince him? Have you ever regretted disagreeing with his plans and dreams? 

Did you regret ever meeting him? 

Did you ever regret liking him?

Did you ever regret loving him?

Would you have been happier if he had never been a part of your life?

As the portal shrunk in size, so did his view of your back. Many, many feelings were spiraling within the king of hell as he watched you walk away with a young seraphim. Those overwhelming feelings seemed to have intensified tenfold once he saw a view of the side of your face as you turned your head to face your companion. Oh, god.

You were as beautiful as the day he lost you. 

[cupid-styles]

can you do a blurb about alpha harry freaking out when yn comes to his place smelling like another alpha (she hugged one or bumped into one or something) and being all grumpy and wanting to get rid of it 🤭

oh absolutelyyyyy we love our possessive frat alpha harry!!!! this is on the shorter side but part two will be the mating blurb😙😙

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: a/o/b content (mentions of knotting/spicy but no smut), harry being jealous and possessive

frat alpha harry concept tag

main masterlist | talk to me

patreon

. . .

Harry wrinkles his nose the second Y/N steps into his bedroom.

"You reek."

It comes out without him even thinking about it, Y/N's jaw immediately dropping as she whips around, a shocked expression on her face.

"Sorry— sorry, that was rude," he mumbles, raising his hand to tug at his messy curls, "It's just— you smell like another alpha. A different one... like, not me."

"You could've stopped at 'another alpha.' I got it then."

He's currently resisting the urge to plug his nose — all he wants to do is throw her over his shoulder and put her in the shower, washing away the fragrance of whoever she'd been around, and scenting her until he couldn't tell who was who. The thought of his omega girl smelling like an alpha that wasn't him made him feel physically sick, bile rising in his throat as the smell continues to permeate his small bedroom.

"Who were you with?" he demands, any attempt at niceties being thrown out the window. It was difficult for him not to get increasingly aggressive the more she stood there, arms crossed over her chest like this whole thing wasn't making Harry sick.

"I told you, I had to work on a group project with some people from my humanities lecture. I just spent, like, three hours in the library with them."

"And were you sitting in a nest of their stuff or something?"

Y/N sends him an annoyed glare, toeing her shoes off in the entry of his room. There's still a decent distance between them, Harry all the way on the other side with an irritated wrinkle formed between his brows.

"Harry, you know I wasn't," she lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand over her face. "I'm exhausted. I don't wanna argue about this, you know it's not my fault."

The genuine response strikes a chord within him and he suddenly feels awful for accusing of her doing anything that would purposely cause her scent to alter. He swallows harshly, trying to push away his natural alpha instincts in favor or apologizing to his girl.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, eyes falling to the carpeted floor. "You're right, it's not your fault. It just... pisses me off."

"I know it does. I'm sorry, too. I could've gone home and showered before I came over."

Harry shrugs, though his heart twitches at the thought of her natural fragrance: sweet and woody, nostalgic and comforting. The only thing he ever wants to smell for the rest of his life.

"But... you know," she says softly, a flirtatious lilt to her voice, "No alpha would even think about getting close to me if I had a pretty bite mark on my neck."

A breathy chuckle leaves Harry. "I know, baby. You deserve more than just a random night in this shitty frat house, though."

"I don't care, though—"

"I know you don't, but I do," he murmurs lowly, taking a step towards her. "You're my mate, yeah? Wanna make it perfect."

He lifts his thumb to pluck at her bottom lip.

"Are you gonna let me make it perfect for you?"

The sentiment makes her feel melty and weak in the knees, so all she's able to do is nod her head slowly. He smiles.

"There's my good omega," he says, and her stomach starts to feel like Jell-O. It's always this way when his voice starts to lower and he speaks to her as if she's the only person in the world. She gets tunnel vision, like he's the sole focus of her attention, and it'll only ever be that way.

"How will you make it perfect?" she manages to whisper out.

"Hmm," he hums, tilting his head slightly as he contemplates her question. "Think I'll take you on a trip somewhere. Maybe somewhere tropical so you can walk around in those pretty bathing suits I know you're dying to wear," she blushes, and it makes him chuckle. "I'll spend the whole day spoiling you. We'll lay out on the beach and I'll put sunscreen all over that perfect body of yours. And when we get tired, I'll carry you back to our room."

Her breath hitches in her throat, the imagery clear as day in her head as he speaks.

"Won't even care if your hair's dirty from the ocean or you have sand everywhere— I'll kiss every inch of your body, hm?" he presses a kiss just below her ear lobe and she shivers. "Stick my tongue in that cute pussy and make you squirt over and over until you're begging for me to mate you. Make sure you cum plenty before I put my cock inside of you and fuck you 'til you're all swollen with my knot."

He catches her ear between his teeth, biting gently. He can smell the arousal slicking in her panties and the warmth radiating from her desperate pussy. "And then... when you're shivering and shaking the way you do, I'll bite you. Make you my pretty fuckin' omega girl with the sweetest bite mark on your neck."

She swallows loudly and he hums, giving her hip a small squeeze.

"Now go take a shower. I need to scent you before I go insane."

[onsomenewsht]

now playing: In The Kitchen

< track 1 || track 3 >

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader (past) / Leah Williamson x Reader (platonic)

》 words count: ~900

》 deleted the playlist / but I still hear all your favorite melodies

“Can you change the song at least?”

Leah just ignores you, keeping tidying up your bedroom as if your clothes personally offended her. You can’t really be mad at the blonde, if not for her you could be even more miserable. And you’re already in a pretty shitty state if you have to say yourself.

But an intervention from your new captain and unplanned friend is unnecessary, you think.

Yes, sometimes you ignore calls from your closest friends. Yes, occasionally you hide in your still-kinda-bare but brand-new house. Yes, every now and again you lose yourself in your fucked up mind.

Why does she have one of Alexia’s favourite reggaeton songs in her cleaning playlist? 

When the defender pulls up out of nowhere a hoodie that you tried to bury as soon as you moved in, you’re back on square one.

“You’re pathetic”

“You’re such a good friend, Williamson”

“I am, thank you so much and thank Keira for it”

You really should.

You’re quite sure Keira convinced her best friend to look after you. She’s one of the few among all your former teammates who’s actually trying not to look at you like you kicked a puppy with no remorse.

The puppy is Alexia. 

The kicking is you asking for a transfer and basically disappearing.

You definitely should thank her.

“One may think in your hurry to leave you should have left behind your ex’ clothes”, the yellow number painfully standing out on the royal blue fabric.

“Drop it”

“The hoodie or the truth?”

You don’t answer, but you find the energy to move from your bed and rip the piece of clothes from her hand. You don’t even look at it when you abruptly throw it somewhere in your opened closet, too busy trying not to let the memories invade your tired mind.

Alexia’s warm embraces, strong arms around you and tender hands drawing mindlessly patterns.

Fuck it.

You can’t deal with it now.

You can’t deal with anything lately.

Apparently, leaving the room is not a great idea either, both Leah and the song are following you everywhere. Fuck the expensive audio system you convinced your brokenhearted self you needed too.

The music is getting louder, your head is beating even harder and your friend is too persistent.

You shut down the audio system entirely by ripping the main cord from its place and the defender flinches, stopping in the middle of your kitchen. She’s used to your mood swings, but she still doesn't know what to do when you're this touchy.

“Let’s cook something”, the captain proposes after a quiet moment.

“Don’t you have your own house with your own kitchen?”

“Yeah, but you can actually use it”

You take the excuse to distract and ground yourself, cooking is always able to help you to calm down and focus your mind on simpler tasks. Leah looks at you moving around your kitchen, somehow dancing without music but following a rhythm only you can hear.

For a while it’s almost like your real self is back, the version Keira described over the years but Leah meets just briefly when something sparks in your dark eyes. It happens sometimes, unexpectedly, other times she realises it was there seeing as the light dims.

Then you recognise you’re cooking Alexia’s comfort food and lose the grip on the knife. 

You debate throwing it all in the trash.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Can I stop you?”

You place two portions and while Leah pretty much devours her own, yours remains untouched.

“Do you regret it?”

“Chew the damn food, Williamson”

“Take your pretty head out of your ugly ass”, she quipped back, mouth full.

You admire her. She’s forceful, devoted. She keeps her word. She promised her best friend to look after a broken soul she didn’t even know personally, and that she does. And now Leah genuinely cares about you, to the point of being brutally honest when you need to be called out.

“I don’t regret it”

“You’re miserable”

“Well said cap, thanks for the pep talk!”

The blonde takes the plate under your frown and starts eating it, no reason to let such a good meal go to waste. The two of you keep it quiet for the next hour, she cleans the dishes and tidies up the kitchen as a silent thank you for the shared launch.

In the middle of the afternoon, you let her back in your bedroom and don’t even protest too much when she insists on you at least folding your clothes.

She’s wasting her day off making sure you don’t sulk in your own misery, so you kind of have to come to the conclusion you should at least indulge her.

The hoodie pops up again and this time you allow yourself to feel it. 

To feel her.

Alexia’ smell is well gone but a sudden memory overwhelms you.

An unnecessary long car ride to a secluded beach she insists on taking you to. Even if the unusual pale Barcelona sun is setting, even if she has rehab in the early morning the day after. The hoodie she’s wearing, the perfect fit with her open smile. You wrapped around royal blue on the return trip. It’s darker outside but your eyes are brighter. Her perfume lingers on the fabric.

Now you just hold onto ghosts.

[tinycozycomfort]

i found the door

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day seven of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: edging -> read her day seven here

summary: Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision.

warnings/tags: edging, daddy kink, c*ckwarming, touch of somno, unprotected piv, age gap (joel is 50s, reader is not), dom/sub dynamics, the tone of this is: they're in love, bulge kink, name calling (slut) + pet names (sweetheart, honey, etc)

word count: 1.8k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i am so hashtag nervous about this one but very big thank you to @pascalisbaby for encouraging me and listening to me complain every day 🖤

main masterlist

“What is she, sweetheart? What do we call her when she’s drooling like that?” 

Joel noses at your chin, puffy stripe of scarring across the bridge dragging colder than the rest, lifting a field of goosebumps in its wake.

You can barely mumble at first, the swipe of his thumbs along your ribcage doing little to ground you, focus washed out with the low light that pools in from the window. His hands are firm—even in their spread—pinkies dipping into the crease of your side as he keeps you seated atop him, sweat-damp sheets taut where they weave between the folds of your knees. 

You’re pliable over him, hiked up and lopsided where he’s fixed you high in his lap, the shape of his cock outlined inside you to the hilt. 

Nights like this—right before the onslaught of Wyoming winter—he likes to just let the time pass, to make use of his body while it’s still skin-warm, no cold to slow his joints or frost to stiffen his muscle. He wants to prove himself capable, spry, even in his climbing age, to make sure you both know how in control he still is of this vessel, of your pleasure. 

He does it in the slowest way—the only way he sees appropriate—unwrapping you in pieces, biting away at the minutes like they’re endless, peeling away at the doubts he only thinks you have for him. 

Joel is a beacon, the warmth sloughing off his chest keeping you in that hazy place between tired and restless—the brightest slice of your vision. The valleys of his hollowed cheeks are deep, his restraint bound there in the tense sinew between his molars.

Only when he feels you deflate does he rock up gently, nudging at the apex of your womb, never touching—just the suggestion of what he’s able to find within you. He lets you whine and plead until you’re at the steep slope of your orgasm before stopping altogether, letting it wane, over and over, the pause to recoup shortening with each near-miss—a loop of ‘almost’s and ‘just-so’s that remind you he can take away as much as he can give.

“Hm?” He’s encouraging as he draws you from your stupor, a lapse in his unkindness—some space for you to right your wrong.

“A slut.”

Joel rolls back on the knob of bone that ends his spine, curling his hips up to give you just the slightest bit of friction. 

“That’s right. Little pussy’s being such a slut for me.” He shifts up again, just a beat to punctuate his point, the squelch that follows sounding out in the silence as if on cue. “Don’t know how you don’t fall all over yourself dripping like that.” 

You’re humming again in response, the last two full words taking more of a toll than they’re worth, voice scratchy from just how much crying you’ve done. The little analog clock on the nightstand ticks, tallying the painfully long stretch that’s passed since he promised to fuck you; that and the hour, maybe—or well over—since he decided he was going to make you wait for it instead. 

He savors this—the chance to make you up like some sleepy, weak thing that he can dote on, that he can thaw between his hands and mold into all of his beloved shapes, syrupy and unwound and enamored. He loves you like this, at his mercy, the heft of his strength and his promise enough to carry you through to the other side of content. 

He needs you like this. 

Joel reaches down to where your middle scrapes the start of his chest, grazing his knuckles over the swell in your lower tummy, rubbing at the wide protrusion that evidences his excitement. He flattens his palm over it like a bandage, uses it as leverage to put some space between you so he can get a better view, carving out more room where he’s hooking into you.

“Look at that. Got me so deep inside you it’s trying to come out. You gonna keep it in for me?” 

You’re nodding before he’s even finished, ready for him to bring you to another barely-peak, shoulders slack so as to not work yourself up, hope strapped to the last notch. 

“Poor thing. Had enough, honey? Ready to beg for it?” 

You huff before thinking, “I have been.” 

“No—crying at me isn’t begging. You have to ask.” 

“Please.” 

“Please…?” 

“Joel, can you pl–” 

He scoops up the meat of your cheeks with his free hand, fingers scalloping the flesh in a tight grip, wedging the points between your teeth until it feels like he’s inside you; he has you by your soul at this point, his hold runs so deep. 

“I know my girl isn’t that dim. How many times have we practiced this, sweetheart? Still can’t get it right on the first try?” 

He’s dead serious—frown severe—but you can’t help the curl of your mouth, laughter bubbling at the base of your throat. What a horrible, mean man he wants to be. In reality, he loves you more than he’s able to say most days, only leaning back on this game of obedience and correction and reward as a crutch when he can’t find the words. 

“Sorry, daddy.” 

Joel angles his fingers back so that he’s hanging onto the hinges of your jaw, the broad U of his middle-to-thumb long enough to give you room to speak and breathe and scream. 

His hips start to cant, the sticky swing of his cock inside you pulsing outwards, a fresh wave of arousal pooling at the joint. 

“There we go. Go ahead with the rest, then.”

“Daddy—fuck, please.” 

His resolve begins to melt at just the mention of his newly-appointed favorite title, a thing that slides between completely earnest and a silly pass at something new, not completely settled into habit. Even so, it’s sticking fast, the sheen over his eyes and abnormal measure of his breathing proof enough. 

“Please, what, sweet girl? You need daddy to make that slut pussy happy? You need to come?” 

Your mouth is wide open, nothing coming out but brief, irregular puffs of air that keep you conscious. He’s enjoying it—hoists his chest up so he can get close to your face, unhinge his own jaw, mock you that much more. He fails to not smile, head bobbing has he continues to fuck up into you with all the effort his body, and this position, are willing to allow. 

The hand pushing into your stomach falls, twisting at the wrist so he can toy with your clit, struggling not to slip in the web of slick that’s yet to dry where you’re connected. He’s determined, though—switches his thumb for the flat section of skin between his last two knuckles, gliding along the bead of skin at your core until you’re slumping forward, unable to take the whole brunt of him at full mast. 

“Oh, honey. Can’t even get fucked right anymore, can you? What’s gonna happen when you can’t take this cock? What do you suppose I do with you, then?” 

“No, daddy. ‘M just tired. Don’t stop, please.”

“Half-awake and the only thing you can think to do is ask for more. Now we’re getting somewhere.” 

“Yes, more, more.” 

“That’s right. Tell daddy how grateful you are. Tell me how much you need it.” 

“Fuck, yes. I need you.”

The fingers on your face pinch harder, throbbing as your cheek contours to the line of your teeth. Joel shakes his wrist, your neck lolling in his clutch as he commands your attention.

“Hey, I let it slide the first time. Don’t use that kind of language with me, girl. Be polite to me for all I do for you.” 

You’re too close to the end to say anything other than sorry, sorry daddy, the pitch rising in time with his movements, the burn of your climax worming its way up your spine. He’s equally as close, descending into the force of his movements so quickly he abandons his half-hearted reprimand, lashes clumping and wet, the line of his brow shining with sweat. He works at your clit with unwavering effort, sliding ten-fold as you begin to meet his thrusts, the two of you fighting to be on-beat in the work-up.

“I’m gonna come. Please. Please, can I?” 

“What am I going to want to hear from you before you do, sweetheart?” He tucks the bow of tissue that separates his thumb to your chin, his longer fingers plucking at some of the hair that's tacked down with wet—another show of sympathy.

“I love you.” 

“How sweet are you, hm—when you want to be? That’s my perfect girl. Just one more time, now.”

“Joel, I love you. More than f—more than anything.” 

He manages a exhale—his best attempt at amusement in this state—at the way you fumble to catch your own error, too close to the edge to afford another mistake. 

You clamp down with both hands on the forearm clutching your face, like more of you on him can better emphasize your statement and he moans, a high, ragged thing that falls out before he can contain it. 

Eventually, he accepts, “I love you, too, honey. More than you know.” 

You’re right at the cusp now, cunt seizing around where he’s driving up into you and he aims to bring you there before he falters, “Come on, let me have it. Show me just how much you love me.“

It's just a slew of yes’s after that, body locking up as the crest of your orgasm washes over you in flashes of white, so intertwined with him you don’t realize he’s made his way there as well, the sear of his release a welcome addition to the flurry. 

He doesn’t stop until your breathing evens, dropping his grip to wind his arms at the small of your back. He envelops you the way he wishes he could have to begin with, with all of the raw affection he needs courage to produce. 

“I mean it. Really.” He thumbs at the bumps of your spine, a swirl of something like guilt threading through his voice. 

You’re quick to dismiss it, dropping your head into the slope of his neck, the chill of September flooding in now that you’ve halted. You bring an arm up, fingers pleating into the hair he’s grown out in preparation for the season—a cut you suspect he’s kept because you’d mentioned taking a liking to it. You shuffle closer, knees slanted inwards to cradle him.

“I know, Joel. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”