#it’s probably not normal to check under your bed and in your closet every single night before sleeping right

[useryoongis]

tw paranoia??? i’m not sure what to call it

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 12

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: ~1.3K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

Your alarm jerks you awake, and you blindly reach out to find your phone and turn it off. A yelp leaves your lips as you feel someone roll on top of you and throw the now silenced phone across the room.

“Daemon,” you whine, voice raspy from sleep, “what the fuck?”

He sits back, his thighs caging your body in. “What in the hells was that noise?”

“It was my alarm,” you rub at your eyes in an effort to wake up. “I really didn’t want to waste today.”

You push at Daemon’s chest in an effort to get him to let you up, but your husband doesn’t budge at all. “My love, as much as I want to explore your world more and try this ‘pizza’ again, our wife is probably worried sick.”

“I’ll get her a fucking t-shirt then, I want to have a nice latte and give my vibrator one last ‘hurrah’ before I go back to the dark ages-LITERALLY.”

Daemon slings a leg over, standing up to dig out the clothes you had bought for him yesterday. He shuddered as he pulled on the monstrosity you referred to as ‘cargo shorts’ when you bought them as punishment for his comments about modern attire for women. 

You smirk as you get dressed. As much as you love your husband, there was something so vindicating about making him dress a little silly. If he had some much to say about jean shorts and crop tops, then he could dress like a dad going to Disney. “You look ravishing,” you tease. Digging through your closet, you slipped on a sundress. Today was going to be a little bit of shopping for the kids and Nyra, as well as working your way through some foods you needed Daemon to try.

Daemon slid on his plain tshirt (you had saved the “Dad of the Year” shirt to give him when you returned). “I look ridiculous,” he complained, “do all men here insist on showing their legs? I don’t like it.”

You snort out a laugh, doing your best to keep it in. Daemon’s eyes narrowed, and he stalked over. His one hand gripped the waist of your sundress, pulling you towards him as the other slipped under. The hem of the dress hiked up as his palm stopped to squeeze your asscheek. “Laugh as much as you like, my love,” Daemon purred, “but I promise I will make you pay for every single joke.” Your laughter dies, replaced by a short moan as Daemon lays a light spank across your asscheek.

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to make each one count,” you say, winding your hands through his hair. You gently pull at his hair, leaning in to kiss and nibble at his throat. His moan vibrates against you as you kiss up his jawline to his ear. You gently bite at the lobe before pulling away and grinning. “As much as I want to get those shorts right back off, I promised you a fun day in my world.”

“I assure you, my love, it is no hardship to stay inside today.”

You drag Daemon out of the apartment, slipping your hand in the crook of his elbow. “I can’t wait for you to meet my ride, Glenda.”

“You have a horse?”

“Kinda,” you laugh as you lead Daemon to your garage. “I don’t know how much horsepower she gets, but she’s my baby.” You click the lock button and listen for your car. There she is…right where you left her. “She’s not as fun as Caraxes, but she’ll get us where we need to go. She’s probably cheaper to feed too.”

Daemon eyes the Prius warily. “Where is the saddle?”

“Inside,” you say, urging Daemon forward. 

“You want me to go inside that beast?!” he hissed. “You’re mad.”

You roll your eyes, unlocking the doors and opening his. “Come on, I’ll let you be passenger princess this time.”

After quite a bit of convincing, you manage to get Daemon in the car and buckled in. He was heavily opposed to the seatbelt, but after a long lecture about road safety, he put it on just to get you to stop lecturing. You rolled down the windows so he could lean out and watch the buildings fly past. 

You pulled into the parking lot of a local coffee shop, helping Daemon figure out the release mechanism on his seatbelt. “Would you like something sweet or bitter?” you asked, unsure whether or not he would be familiar with half of the drinks and pastries here.

“I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

“Thanks not an answer, but I love the enthusiasm,” you laughed, giving Daemon a peck on the cheek. You order an iced chai latte with a shot of espresso for yourself and the ‘drink of the month’ for Daemon. After asking the cashier for two warmed pastries, you pay and lead Daemon to a table in the back. He is looking around at all the decor-photos of the owner from 50 years ago, cookie jars, and a wall of postcards.

“Did someone paint all of these?” he asked, pointing towards the photos.

You shook your head, pulling out your phone. “They’re like paintings. You can use a camera or any device with a built in camera.” Turning your phone on selfie mode, you slide into the seat next to Daemon. You snap a pic as you kiss his cheek, and show him the screen. He hums, looking at the picture of you both. 

“Nyra would love this,” he murmurs. “Can we bring her a camera?”

“I think we could pick up a polaroid and some film,” you muse. “There is no way to keep a phone alive back there, but a polaroid would work.”

The barista calls out your name and Daemon walks up to collect your order. You watch as he and the young barista go back and forth. “Hey, need any help there baby?” you ask, winding an arm around Daemon’s waist.

“The barmaid here was asking for my number-”

“I am so sorry!” the barista apologized, blushing. “I asked if he had a girlfriend and he said no so I-”

“I don’t-”

“He has a wife.” 

You try your best not to laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it all as you take your drink and assure the barista there’s no issue. Daemon and you down your pastries while you try to explain the concept of democracy to a real life monarch. 

“That sounds incredibly complicated.”

“I take it Nyra won’t be instituting one in Westeros,” you tease.

“As much as she loves you, not a chance.” Daemon snorts. He stands when you finish your food, offering you his arm. “But that idea for the orphanage reform is something she would love,” he says with a nudge. “Nyra knows you’re getting restless, and has been looking for projects you can head.”

“Really?” you ask excitedly. “You think she would let me?”

“For you? Of course,” he says, kissing your forehead. “Now, you promised me we could pick up some of these ‘legos’ for the kids.”

“Want to try your luck at driving?” you ask with a wicked grin.

“Not at all.”

NOTE: New chapter!!! I am SO SORRY for the lack of Nyra...I MISS HER TOO SO MUCH AND I'M BENDING SPACE AND TIME TO GET HER BC I MISS MY POOKIE/ANGEL!!!!! Anyway, pls enjoy some modern hijinks. Also if you're AT ALL interested in a Logan Howlette x Popstar!OC/Reader story.....I am posting chapter 3 soon (Me and the Devil). They start off disliking each other so YOU KNOW we are gonna have some fun banter. Also, currently writing and hope to have chapter 13 of TVSTT up in the next few days! ~ Lacie <33

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[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

[darkcitiesnluv]

Shy/DOM Boyfriend Sunghoon × Kinky Fem Reader (ft Jungwon)

Pairing: Sunghoon x Reader (You)

Genre: smut, fluff, funny?

Warnings: smut 18+

___________________________________________________

" Sunghoon! at seven come to my house, my parents and my younger brother aren't going to be here! " You said excitedly on your phone clutching it tightly.

" Jungwon won't be here? YESS! I'm glad if sees me alone with you he'll karate kick me on the stomach, hehe" Sunghoon chuckled at other side of the line. His big smile was so bright as he talked to you.

" He does taekwondo not karate" you responded to him feeling warm inside to hear him again after a whole month without him.

" Isn't the same thing?..... anyway....I'll be there in a hour, bye love" he ended the call. You squeaked in a mixture of shyness and excitement because he called you love.

" I'm seeing him again...." You sighed. Sunghoon and you started dating a month ago, but because school was over he went in vacations with his family so you couldn't see him for two weeks. But you missed him sooo much, his lips, his hands, his hair,his delicious smell of cologne, his everything.

You couldn't wait to do it again with Sunghoon. Yes Sunghoon and you already lost each others virginity together. Both of you very shy and embarrassed about every single thing. You two even watch a little bit of porn to educate yourself a little. At that time Sunghoon was not really into the idea of watching it since he isn't interested in that kind of stuff and finds it wrong to watch. However you convinced by telling him you two are not doing anything wrong besides learning! That it was for you two only and that'll it'll be the last time watching it.

Well......you two did it....and you were even shock because it didn't look or felt like it was his first time. He just did a great job, still feeling shy at first but as he was getting sexually aroused by you he became confident and turn the bedroom into a fair. You want that again for the third time.

Why are you even counting the times you two did it?

The last two times you did it with him were incredible, it was kind of a vanilla sex and rough vanilla sex all the way but you like it because you loved the after care from him. Now you felt spicy it up a little.....or more. There is so many things you wanna try with Hoonie but you're scared to tell him about your naughty fantasies. What if he thinks you're a sexual freak?

Sunghoon is a very conservative boy, that's how he grew up like with his family. He is a respectful, conservative,and a gentle young men who is quiet a romantic when he feels likes, and really isn't thinking about anything naughty to do.....unless if it's with his secret girlfriend; YOU.

You're going to try to ask him anyway.

You run to your closet and pull out a box that was hidden underneath piles of clothes. There, the black and red lingeries you bought from a friend laid nicely and pretty inside the box.

" Which one should I wear? The red or black" you mumbled to yourself as you check them with your eyes. " Sunghoon likes the color black a lot, and he looks good in black too......the black one wins!" You mumbled excitedly to yourself.

Quickly you exchange your normal undergarments to the black sexy lingering that'll be under your normal clothes. A grey tank top, with a lighter grey jacket kind of zipped up to the top but stops in the middle of your chest and dark grey very comfortable shorts that is quiet short for you. To night you had a plan to seduce him.

After changing you quickly went to the kitchen and prepare snacks to watch a movie with him.

" Pop corn, chips, Pocky sticks..." You said as you put them on the mini table in the middle of the living room.

" I need to stop thinking about Hoon I'm getting all hot and bother" you licked your bottom lip and chuckled quietly while flapping your hands against the air towards you.

*Knock knock knock*

" My man is here!" You jumped from the couch and open the door.

" Baby!"

" Babe!"

You jumped to hug him tight, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso. You kissed him all over his handsome face. Oh how much you missed this smart idiot.

" Oh my, you really missed me a lot huh?" He asked as he try to push his face away from your kisses because he wants to look at you. He smack your butt lightly as he usually does when he sees you. You got down and hold one if his hands.

" You really look handsome today" you said as you check him out while bitting your bottom lip right in front of him. Sunghoon laughed quietly with blushing cheeks. He held your face and kiss your forehead then peck your lips. " I know babe...hehe....how about you?...you look too sexy today?" He raised an eyebrow to you while his eyes linger on your short shorts, but not in a lusty way but more like his questioning on his mind why are you wearing tooo short shorts? It's cold in your house?

You blush a little since you always felt s little nervous or intimidating by a certain look of expression he made when he looked at you and you always found it so attractive.

" I'm not looking sexy at all today, what are you talking about? Sunghoon ah! Come here with me, tell me about your field trip" you pull him down to sit with you on the couch and he followed you.

He sat next to you, his elbows against his almost separated knees, both of his hands clutch together in front of him. He had his torso lean down a little. This is how he usually sits, and once again you find it super attractive, because for you he was expressing his masculinity so much. Just everything about him was attractive and it was one of the reasons why you fell in love with him.

" It was pretty fun until....my step aunt had an accident and fell from the pole she was dancing on....she hurt herself badly" he said in a very serious yet sad tone as pressed both of his lips together and just stare out in space.

You suddenly let out a laugh and immediately covered your mouth. Sunghoon looked at you but then smile and his whole body was paying attention towards you. " Why are you laughing?" He quietly chuckled.

" I'm sorry babe but you just said your aunt fell because she was dancing...on a pole?"

" Yeah- i didn't explain the situation well, she was very drunk that night in the club, she got crazy or high and got up on stage and started dancing you know....sexy? In a sexy way? ....and well she missed a step and fell down...... that's what her boyfriend told us...." He said as he try to control his smile because he didn't want to laugh in such a accidental situation.

You no longer cared and just let it all out. " My prince i missed you so much!" You suddenly got up and freely fall on top of him perfectly. Because of your fall, Sunghoon's back leaned against the couch.

" I missed you too- princess-" he try to said but you kept kissing his lips and then on his neck. " So needy aren't you?" He laughed as he try to push you away from him. " Oh? What about the snacks? Are we going to watch a movie?" Sunghoon asked curiously as he notices the snacks there.

" There's a more delicious snack right in front of me" you said admiring his beauty and his precious smile. Sunghoon smiled as he caressed your cheek with his hand softly. "Princess, you're a delicious snack too....." He said with an embarrassing look. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. " What? Park Sunghoon is that you? You wouldn't say something like that to me?" You tease him. Sunghoon suddenly sat up , with you still on top of him straddling him. " What? You started it!! ' there's a more delicious snack right in front of me'" Sunghoon mimicked your voice making you laugh and lightly hit him on his chest. "Park Sunghoon!!" You shout.

" Yang Y/n!" He shout back, both of you laughing hard.  " Tell me what is that you want princess?...." He asked with a shy smile as his hands caressed up and down your sides to show affection but YOU couldn't control down there from not burning up, but it was getting harder as Sunghoon still gaze at you.

" Sunghoon.....can we make.....love?" You asked a little shy about it but still manage to look at him confidently.

Sunghoon raised both of his eyebrows and widen his eyes. " I don't know why I'm acting surprised, I kind of had the idea from you " he smirked with a grin.

You look back at him as your eyes stare at his quiet plump red lips. Sunghoon was like the male version of snow white: jet black hair, a pretty pale complexion of skin, dark beautiful eyes and natural red or pink plumpy lips. He lips look kissable and felt kissable.

" I'm so lucky to have you, not just because of your handsome appearance but just you, yourself is perfect!" You sincerely said as you rest your head against his shoulder.

Sunghoon smiled as he heard that. He hug you tightly and whispered in your ear. " You're perfect as well my princess.....this month we spend together you've been a really good girl.... should I reward you?" He asked. You widen your eyes as you hear those words from the shy Sunghoon you know.

While Sunghoon on the other side he was controlling his smile by pressing his lips together and closing his eyes tight looking away from you. 'oh my god! Sunghoon!! wasn't that too much!? You probably sounded soo cringe! What is Y/n going to think of you, loser!' Sunghoon thought.

You bit your bottom lip as turn to look at him. " Please reward me......I deserve it...." You said innocently. Sunghoon looked at you surprised probably not expecting you to say anything back. He sighed as he suddenly push you away from him against the couch. He straddle your hips, his hands clutching on your wrists to the sides.

" Let's go to your room.....are you sure your parents aren't coming?...." He asked as he hold you like a bride and made his way to your room.

'ok ok! My confidence is doing a good job again!' he thought.

Just for teasing he throw you on the bed. You immediately pull him by his neck. Lips touching starting a heated make out session. You run your hands everywhere, from his face to his body trying to feel him through his clothes. Sunghoon did the same as he caressed one of your thighs. With his veiny hands force your legs to spread apart so he can lean his hips against your core.

Sunghoon let's go of your lips and reach down to kiss your neck softly as he kept thrusting dryly against you creating a very arousal feeling between you two. You let out tiny whispery moans and Sunghoon let out tiny small moans and groans. " Mmm~...ahhh.....Hoon...."

His hips suddenly started to do circular motions against you to create more friction. You quietly laugh as you held onto his broad shoulders. He glanced at you and smirk. " You like that..." He said and suddenly hit you with his hips against you. You widen your eyes and yelled " ahhhhh! Sunghoon ah!!" Out of surprise.

He chuckled as his right hand that caressed your thigh before went up to rub your right breast and massage it  lightly. You bit your bottom lip as you felt in the clouds when he touch your breasts. You really like that a lot.

His red plumpy lips kissed your neck, shoulder, and in the middle of your clothe chest so passionately making you moan lightly even with your shirt and bra on.

Wow, who thought you can make love and still feel good with your clothes on?

" Take my shirt off...." You whispered to him as he didn't complain and did what you told him to do. He took that jacket and tank off. Soon he saw the black sexy lingering you're wearing.

" Mm? What's this?" He gave you a surprised questionable look. " It's for you love, I bought it for you.... Don't you like it?..."

" I love it, but......you had this planned didn't you?" He said giving you a shy teasing smile.

" Yes baby now laid in your back!" You pushed him off you towards the bed. You climbed on top of him straddling him. Quickly you took of your shorts which showed your nice see through underwear. You pulled Sunghoon against your neck and chest as you decided to ride him on his clothed lap.

As for Sunghoon, he was shock because of your surprising behaviors, this is not his old Y/n?....was she hiding this side of her? He decided to smack, grasp, and scratched your ass making you almost screamed.

" Ahh! Sunghoon!!!" You're not going to lie, you loved it to the point we're you cummed fast and good.

" Oh my god ....oh my god..... Hoon~" breath it out finishing off releasing everything on his pants. " Can I choke you?....." You suddenly said as you kiss and suck his Adam apple on his fine looking neck.

" Ahh~...." He said closing his eyes feeling good. "Choke me? Is that even a thing?.....no I'm scared..." He said smiling sheepishly. 'what an idiot now you sounded like a chicken! Man up Sunghoon! Be dominant!' he thought as he felt embarrassed again.

"Then you choke me.....don't worry i am informed on how to do it right...." You said as you took off his dark blue sweater. You lean down to kiss his chest down his stomach. You went back to lightly pinch his nipples and to suck on them. You gaze up to look at his expressions. He furrowed his thick eyebrows upwards, and you can tell he was controlling his moans by breathing heavily.

You know your boyfriend isn't very vocal at all, which you don't mind since his groaning is what turn you on the most. However I think it's time to hear him scream your pretty name.

After sucking his nipples, you kiss and lick down his chest down to his small abs, going even down to reaching the edge of his Calvin Klein underwear. You unzip his pants pulling them down. You saw the big bulge.

' I've missed you....' you sillily thought.

You looked up to see your blushing boyfriend. This will be the first time receiving a blow job from you. You grasp the bulge roughly but not too much just squeezing it as if it was some type of squeaky toy.

Sunghoon yelped of pleasure at the sudden contact of your hands attacking him.

As you were done teasing him you pull down his underwear and his length pop out freely. You not having experience with decided to pretend it's a popsicle you're sucking on. Your hands grabbing on the uncover parts of length rubbing there.

" Mmmm~..........ahhh...Y/n" he hissed your name, his eyebrows furrowing together and bitting down his bottom lip telling you his feeling really good. You know he is trying to control his moans but now his starting not help it.

You suck harder and bobbed your head repeatingly, his length almost touching the bottom of your throat. His length twitch in your mouth. Does that mean his close to cum?

" Fuck! Y/n~.…...ahhh!" He moan out loud grasping your messy long hair between his long thin fingers making you bobbed your head harder as he thrust his hips against your mouth trying to cum now.

As he did you swallow it all. Sunghoon relax there breathing heavily while closing his pretty eyes. You climbed on top of him and laid on top of his body. You  put an arm beside his pillow and the other hand caressed his face. You breathlessly watch him breath in and breath out.

" You liked that?......" You whispered as you kiss his earlobe. Sunghoon nodded and smiled sheepishly once again. " I loved it ..... So much .... How are you so good?.....I want that everyday before I go to practice..." He chuckled.

You laughed with him. " Sunghoon you make me wanna do so many bad things to you ...." You bit your bottom lip. It is true, you have sexy fantasies you want to make in reality with him, Sunghoon only.

Suddenly he pushed you down without warning you. He straddle you. He put his fingers around your throat and started pressing.

" Same princess.....i also want to do bad things to you baby girl...." He said darkly with a rougher voice. Ooo that really send you to the edge of getting wet.

" Press here...." You guided his thumbs in a certain area of your neck. Sunghoon obey and tighten his grip on your neck making you feel breathless and dizzy but in a good way.

He was making you feel in a certain way you can't explain.

Sunghoon suddenly let's go. His pretty veiny hands roam around your body caressing every inch. He wraps your left leg around his waist caressing your thigh softly. He kisses down your shoulder, down in the middle of your chest. He get close to your right breast, gives you tiny kisses around your hard nipple making you giggle and bit down on your bottom lip. You played with his jet black hair, pulling his locks softly.

He did the same to your other breast, kissing, pinching, sucking on your hard nipple making your core throb. " Ahh~ Sunghoon..... please fuck me already..... please....." You said grinding your hips against his hard length.

Sunghoon without warning slams his length inside you. He spread your legs more for more space for him to go deeper. You pull him down by his neck to kiss him more sensual and passionately. His kiss back with the same passion and sensuality as you making the whole make out session steamy. Everything was so heated, the kiss, him railing you, the sex sounds, moans, and groans coming from you two.

The whole room was like circus once again and you two were wilding crazily. " Fuck~ Hoon~ choke me daddy choke me~!" You said as you were reaching to your big orgasm. Sunghoon once again wrapped his hands around your throat and tighten his grip on you.

" AhhHH~ YEAH! YES! SUNhoOn~ mY......LOve...~" You felt the delicious feeling of your big orgasm and the good feeling of dizziness mixing together intoxicating you of pleasure.

"Ahh~.....I'm close baby.....I'm sooo-......mmm~fuck" he whispered and moan in your ear.

Both of you came together.

Sunghoon suddenly pulls away and laids next to you with heavy breaths. You also felt breathless after going through the rollercoaster of joy. Sunghoon reaches next to you to cuddle up with you. He kisses your forehead and pats your hair softly. He reaches to grab one of your hands and cross his fingers between yours.

You turn around so your naked chest is touching his chest. You took your time to admire his face. " Sunghoon.....I love you..." You sincerely said by heart.

Sunghoon shows his sweet dimples smile and hugs you tightly. " I love you too my pretty princess...."

You lean to kiss him again but stop when you heard the sound of a door closing and Jungwon screaming.  " IM HOME!.......mom can you make me my favorite curry?..."

" Yes son ..... where's your sister by the way?...." Your mother said.

You and Sunghoon looked at each other with horrifying expressions.

" Shit! They're here! Sunghoon hide under my bed now now!" You said not wasting any time. You dressed, fixed your bed, helped Sunghoon dressed and pushed him underneath the bed.

Looking naturally you came out of the room. " Y'all here already? I took a nap....." You said pretending you were slightly sleepy with your messy hair and mascara slightly running down your cheeks.

" Yeah....... Jungwon won the black belt!" Your father said excitedly suddenly giving a tight hug to Jungwon almost suffocating the poor adorable looking boy. Your mother did the same and after a second you did the same to go with flow although you do feel proud for your little brother.

" Ahhhh! I know I won, I shined! Now let me go-" Jungwon said annoyed wiggling himself from them.

" Congrats little bro, you deserve it for being so good at it " you winked at him. Jungwon grins at you and then gives you a pat on your shoulder.

"..…... cologne?....." He suddenly stop patting you as he got close to smell your neck. He widen his eyes unbelievably. " Sunghoon?.... ain't it? Was he here?" He asked you quietly still giving you a " are you serious" kind of look.

" He did.....he came by to give me the homework i made him do for me" you chuckled to yourself. " Then I thanked by giving him a hug.......hey by the way how do you know it's his?..." You asked now trying to mind of change the subject.

" You forgot he is also my friend? .....gosh Y/n when are you going to wake up! " Jungwon whined as he went to his own room.

You saw your parents where no longer in the kitchen or living room. You immediately run to your room.

" Sunghoon! Baby!" You whispered as you crouched down to help him pull up from the bed. "They're all out of sight! Leave now!" Sunghoon nodded, after getting out, he gives you a slow passionate kiss making you melt from it and just wrapped your arms around his neck.

Sunghoon pull away with a smirking grin. " You're sooo in love with me" he said before kissing your forehead. Quickly you check again.

"Come now!" You whispered and held his hand pulling him towards the entry door. " Goodnight love!" You said.

" Good night my lovely princess......gosh this feel like Romeo and Juliet...." Sunghoon shook his head before walking away. You closed the door and leaned against it.

" Oh Sunghoon...." You breath it out while touching your heart.

"Why does the couch smell....like Cologne?....and why are you standing there looking dumbly? And why is there food on the table?" Jungwon pass by and stare at you. You widen your eyes open. You forgot to put all the food away!

" and why don't you stop asking questions! The door was for me, I did have a movie marathon before taking a nap, oh and I let my friend Sunghoon sit with me and eat some food-"

" But the food looks untouched!" Jungwon said examining a popcorn curiously and trying it after it.

" oh my god Yang Jungwon just shut up! What do you want to hear from me? That I slept with him or something?..." You acted annoyed. Hopefully he believes in you cuz baby Jungwon can be quiet an observer and a doubter.

" So you did slept with him?" Suddenly gives you his signature Lenny Face. " MOM-" he screamed.

" JUNGWON! JUNGWON! what's wrong with you! I'm not like that! Gross! Me inviting some boy to sleep with in my own house is just simply disgusting and disrespectful......kid what do you even know you're just a child just go play Pokemon with Sunoo and Riki...." You pushed him away and sat on the couch grabbing some chips.

After a minute.

" Y/n! Your room smells like Sunghoon! I'm finally telling mom and dad!" You widen your eyes and jump from the couch. " Listen here you Jaden Smith wannabe! I didn't do shit you know Sunghoon can be very mischievous! That boy started messing around my house!"

" I know.....but his cologne is all over you as well THE couch and YOUR BEDROOM!......but not in any other area...... coincidence? " Jungwon smiled feeling proud in bothering you.

" Yang Jungwon go to hell....." You said getting into your room leaving a smirking Jungwon, leaning against the frame of his door with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling so proud in making you mad. Now he really pissed you off....but why though?.... You're not sure if he really believes you did anything naughty with your Sunghoon but you still gotta convince him you don't have anything to do with your secretly boyfriend.

___________________________________________________

×Text Messages×

❄️SUNGHOON ⛸️❣️

Hey princess did anything weird happen today?

YOU

Besides me and you had a great time together today... 🤔 Actually yes! Jungwon is already suspecting about us! But don't worry daddy imma convince him there is nothing btw us 😉😏🙈🙊💦👅😋

❄️SUNGHOON ⛸️❣️

D-DADDY?!!

Umm...ok babe....you really good at convincing! Like the way you convince me to do your hw....and to do you....🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥-

YOU

Park Sunghoon......you better stop~~~🥵🥵🙊🥵🥵🙊

❄️SUNGHOON ⛸️❣️

Hewhew you started it princess 😉😏

Anyway goodnight tomorrow i got dance practices so gotta sleep early.....have nice dreams about me😘😘

YOU

You mean wet-skskskskss ok my baby my prince goodnight and have hot dreams about me😏😘😉🔥

❄️SUNGHOON ⛸️❣️

Ok why are we so dirty!? 🤔🙈 anyway

I Love You ♥️

YOU

Idk love were meant to be like this together 💖

LOVE YOU BABY💕

___________________________________________________

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

The Glitch

I get the Broken Reality au is a haha funny joke but there’s been some legit great art for it and since Butterfly is over and I haven’t gotten into the groove of my other projects yet, I decided to try some flash fiction of my interpretations. Note that this is very small and informal; I used whatever idea came into my head over the course of an hour or so instead of the weeks of planning that go into my usual fics. This was an experiment for fun. But if people enjoy the concept, I may be tempted to expand on it.

Credit to @lollitree @moonpaw @gentrychild​ @owlf45​ and @cyber-phobia​ (I’m sorry if I missed someone I lost track of how many people were involved in this mess).

Content working for reference to infant death.

Please enjoy!

The city shut down for a typhoon warning.  Thunder rumbled in the distance.  Dark clouds blocked the sun so much that by mid-morning it still looked like it never bothered coming up.  And yet the humidity made it too hot for coffee.  Inko didn’t know how to feel.  Work would have been a good distraction.  But she didn’t want any coworkers or clients to see if today got to be too much.  And it was already shaping up to be.  She caught herself making two plates of food for breakfast.  

Inko sat alone in the kitchen.  She couldn’t bring herself to finish her own plate.  Sickness set in fast.  The food had been cold for a long time before she summoned the strength to get up and throw it away.  Then she stood over the open trash can a while, debating whether to try and hold it together, or just throw up and get it over with.  She eventually managed to keep her stomach steady enough to go back to her bedroom.  There was another trashcan in there anyway.

A sound stopped her.  From her office.  The distinct sound of something heavy falling onto the carpet.  Right as she walked past the door.

Please not this again…

She opened the door with her eyes closed.  Her mind conjured a familiar image.  A bedroom full of books and hero posters.  Bright colors and personal touches.  A child’s room.  Inko opened her eyes to her drab home office.  Some of the older case file binders slipped off the pile again.  She really needed to sort those into storage. Not today though.  She didn’t bother to pick it up.

Inko walked faster than normal the rest of the way to her room.  She doesn’t want to face the temptation to search for old toys she remembers storing in the empty closet.  Or search the walls for scuff marks from action figures tossed into them she could always see even after the walls were painted. She hid her planner on a tall shelf and put the ladder away to make it that much harder to go through it over and over looking for doctors’ appointments and school events she knew were coming up.  Finally reaching her bed brought no comfort.

Of course she knew today’s date by heart.  She hadn’t put it on a calendar in the fourteen years since she used to look at it every day.  Inko stuck her head under her pillows, as if they could block out the silent noise of her memories.  Memories of before, the time even when she was by herself, she was never alone.

Fifteen years now, today.  With a shuddering gasp, the tears finally came.  Thunder crashed outside.  It’s not fair!  Why is it still this hard after this long?  Phantom kicks in her belly joined the growing ice there.

The hardest part was she still felt like that sometimes.  Like she wasn’t really alone.  Inko didn’t believe in ghosts, but the lost of what could have been was more than haunting enough.  She felt it watching her.  Judging her. Waiting just long enough for her to settle down into a peaceful, content existence before it reared up to plague her heart all over again.  Cliché hauntings like spooky faces in the mirror or blood coming out of the drains would have been preferable.  Those would be generic enough not to remind her directly.

Rain started outside.  Her phone lit up with a notification she ignored in time with a thunderclap.  The storm was getting closer.

Maybe I should call Hisashi, the thought crossed her mind.  Maybe he’s going through this too.  She bit her lip bloody.  Her frustrated memories weren’t in question like the others.  Probably not though.  I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

Hisashi had been stuck in the denial stage of grief, which often came off as him acting like he didn’t take hers seriously.  Not a year, not even half a year looking back, after they came home from the hospital, he wanted to try again.  

“We can’t let mourning hold us up forever,” he said.  “And it’s not like we lost a once in a lifetime opportunity!  We’ve got at least another twenty years to keep trying!”

But we did lose him! she had wanted to scream.  Still did, years later.  Why didn’t he understand?  He was your loss too!  Inko wanted for the next roll of thunder, then shouted.  

“I don’t just want any baby!  I want Izuku!”

The lights went out.  The temperature rose five degrees instantly when the ceiling fan stopped going.  The rain stopped.

Power outage.  Inko sat up with a sniffle.  Turns out the notification was a warning about roving blackouts.  Of course.  Oh well. I wasn’t really in the mood to cook tonight any-

Thunder boomed even louder than before, making her jump.  Then another.  Lightning flashed outside at the same time.  It was right on top of her.

What?  I thought the typhoon wasn’t supposed to make landfall until later toni-

Another crash.  It vibrated through her bones.  Then another. The lightning lit up her whole room. Except for a shadow on the wall. Inko jolted to look, holding her breath, and found only her own shadow in the next flash.

“I’m such an idiot…”  She went for her phone again.  For peace of mind, she decided to use her data to check if an evacuation order went out. Or any updates at all really, since the weather came so much faster than the news said.  “Nothing,” she sighed annoyed.  “I hate being alone for weather like this…”

A new notification pinged.

[Mom]

Inko blinked rapidly.  The message remained.  All of her insides turned inside out in an instant, and she started crying again. Was this someone’s idea of a sick joke? No one ever got a chance to call her that.  She touched the note to open it, but nothing happened.  No app or source was displayed.  Nor did it go away after a few seconds like normal.  

“Wha- What’s going on?” she wept.  In a mix of sorrow and rage, she wound up to chunk the device across the room.  But she froze.

Outside her window, floating against the pitch-black sky, were two small orbs.  Perfectly circular and glowing.  Watching her. She didn’t dare move.  

Another ping.  She looked without moving.

[I’m sorry]

“…  What?”

For a moment, all the sounds in the world dropped out.  They all came back at ounce.

Lights flickered.  Both the ones inside and the lightning going outside.  Multiple strikes laid on top of one another.  No relief.  Thunder pounded over and over like a drum solo.  It shook the whole building.  Inko ran into the closet away from the window.  She slammed her hands over her eyes but it didn’t help.  Her terrified cried were whispers to the screams of the storm.

A child’s scream.  She heard it. Each flash of light came with a cry. The distinct sound of a little boy calling out in pain blended with unyielding nature.  It came from every direction.  Every hair on Inko’s arms stood up in fear.  She felt the charge in the air.  But she had to go out.  Her baby was crying for help.

She burst from the closet into the living room.  All the lights and appliances turned themselves on and off.  The TV showed only static between its flashes. Something drew her too it.  The storm was deafening.  It pounded through her head like a heartbeat.  The beats got faster.  The static flashes started to look like a face.  Her usual caution was abandoned as she fell to her knees and touched the screen.  The snow cleared for a single instant.  Just long enough to look like the blank eyes from the window.  She felt the heartbeat there too.

Then it stopped.  All of it. The noise and lights all went quiet and dark.  The TV went completely cold in an instant.  Inko, stunned, palmed over it looking for something.  Anything.  The pulse. Warmth.  A burnt fuse or faulty wire.  But nothing.  The rain started again.

She pulled her hands back to her lap.  Her heart was still racing and tears kept flowing down under her chin. She looked around.  Everything in the living room and kitchen looked the same. No sign of the earthquake-like convolutions the whole appartement experienced only minutes ago.  Inko combed the entire space for evidence.  An object knocked off the shelf.  A picture frame fallen from the wall.  The notifications.  Toys in the closet or scuffs in the wall.  Still not a sign.  She even stepped outside her door to check the sky.  Only light rain and shattered thunder, just like the news said the day before.

There was only one thing out of place.  Back in her bedroom, the bottom drawer of her nightstand hung open.  Inko had to steal herself before approaching it. There were only two things in there: a little green blanket, and a picture of the ultrasound.  The most recent one from her last appointment. The doctor said he was doing fine.

“Izuku…” she whispered to it in her hand.

She remembered the squealing little bundling being put in her arms for the first time.  The first time he smiled at her.  Teaching him to walk, then immediately launching into play.  Him coming home with bruises and scrapes after the kids at school were mean to him, and crying in her arms.  Then, him coming home with his first real friends in a long time. She made them all dinner. Katsudon.  That was Izuku’s favorite.

Only she didn’t remember.  The same way she didn’t really remember the toys and scuffs.  Those were fantasies.  Daydreams of what could have been.  She just thought about them so often they felt like memories. Especially today.  It was his birthday after all.  They’d fade back into vague dreams by tomorrow.  They always did.  

And she would be left with reality.  The silence.  The cold, still little hand between her fingers.  Soft cheeks without blush.  Eyes that never opened.  Clutching him too tight to her chest, knowing the second she let go he would be gone for real and it would all be over.  

But it was never over.  Inko went through this same torturous song and dance every year for fifteen now.  All the guilt and dread would subside slowly over the next one, until it all came back at once.  Just like this.

At least it’s done for now, she tried to reassure herself, climbing back into bed. It still wasn’t even noon yet.  Plenty of time for another breakdown.  Hopefully the next one won’t be, feel, as loud.  She sighed heavily into her sheets.  This sort of thing can’t be normal.  I should really try therapy again.

Against her better judgement, she kept the blanket out, and clutched it to her chest.  Static electricity pricked her fingers.  With her other hand, she reached across the bed, and tried to imagine someone else there. Not Hisashi, never him anymore.  Izuku.  He was fifteen and happy, but the storm was making him nervous so he came to lay beside her.  She remembered it like it was now.  If she closed her eyes, she could feel his warm, soft skin, with a healthy, if a little anxious heartbeat just underneath.  The mattress warped as he sighed.

“We’ll be okay.  It’s just a little rough weather,” she promised.

“Okay, Mom,” Izuku answered quietly.  “…  I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”  I’ll start trying to get myself together tomorrow.  For now, let me have this.

Izuku didn’t respond for a while.  “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.  Happy birthday.”

[cuddlesslut]

Silence

Part Two to Home

Atsumu x Fem Redaer

Summary: Atsumu deals with the aftermath

Warnings: Angst, NSFW, Slight smut, Atsumu is an Ass

AN/ UNEDITED. this is just a portrayal of Atsumu for this work not how I actually perceive him

The will be a Part Three.

Part One: Home

Part Three: Memories

Atsumu cursed himself as you ran out the restaurant. He knew he was getting to cocky. Frustration was taking over his body as he sat back down at the table. He ran his hand over his face as let out a heavy sigh before looking up at her. Yuki ,his most recent girlfriend, sat there loss for words. He could see the tears building in her eyes. Obviously she was confused it’s not like she knew anything about you he had courted her like all the others under the disguise of being single. He racked his brain he knew he had been careless lately. Normally you’d never notice his infidelity he’d been doing it for quite sometime now and for so long you were none the wiser. He’d find some chick take her either back to her place or a hotel have his fun and be gone only repeating the same girl maybe twice at most three times if she was a really good lay. He’d make sure no marks were left and he was clean up before heading home to you his unsuspecting fiancé. Yuki was different though she was the first woman to actually catch his attention in more than just a sexual capacity. Don’t get him wrong the sex with her was amazing but he also found himself enjoying her company wanting to spend more and more time with her. He curses maybe if he hadn’t been so stupid and forgot your birthday everything would be fine. Being so pissed at the situation he failed to worry about Yuki’s feelings as she finally broke the silence.

“Tsmu I don’t get it, we’ve been together for eight months how could you cheat on me,” she sniffled tears starting to stream down her face as her usually charming boyfriend sat across from her looking at her with annoyance.

He scoffed looking at her pitiful state. If he wasn’t already so fed up with the situation he was sure he could use his silver tongue to get out of this situation and have her back at his side momentarily, but no he needed to save all his effort and false reassurances for you.

“Oh sweetheart I didn’t cheat on you,” he gave a little chuckle, “That’s was my fiancé , I’ve been with her for six years what makes you think eight months means anything, you were the side piece darling.” He saw the hurt on her face and knew he had just been a complete ass but he couldn’t find it in him to care right now although he was sure he would later. That hurt turned to anger as she stood and threw her drink in his face.

“You are an ASSHOLE Atsumu!” She yelled finally losing what composer she was keeping before storming away out the same door you had just previously exited.

Yeah I guess I am he thought as wiped his face the rag before signaling for the check. Looking at the glass that contained your ring he thought of all the Pinterest boards you had saved of rings and dresses and different color schemes. He thought of the excitement and love in your eyes when he finally proposed. He plucked the ring out of the drink before pocketing it and heading home.

As he entered your shared home he realized he had guessed right you weren’t there. He pulled out his phone, pulling up your contact and hitting call. It wouldn’t connect. He let out the breath he was holding, so you had already blocked him he thought. He walked to their room wanting to change out of his wet dress shirt. He immediately noticed the most of your drawers were empty and your half The closet was looking sparse. He wondered if you were coming back for the rest. Part of him was sure you would, you would come back where else could you go. Yet somewhere deep in his mind part of him was screaming at the idea of you being gone. But he wouldn’t let that part surface. He walked out to the kitchen noticing the box of onigiri left out along with his brother’s birthday note to you. He rolled his eyes of course Osamu remembered. That’s probably where you are ,now that he thinks about it, that or your heading to Suna that’s who you always ran to he grimaced.

Thinking back to high school when the two of you had first gotten together he had introduced you to the team. You and Suna just clicked it was like you had been friends all of your lives the way you easily laughed and joked together. He had never seen anyone pull Suna from his shell the way you had and he still hadn’t. Not a single one of the middle blockers previous significant others had ever pulled the same reaction from the stoic man as you had. It didn’t take Tsumu long to realize the fool was head over heels for you. But it’s didn’t matter to him you were completely oblivious to blockers affections, as well as the fact that you were dutifully loyal to the setter. He wasn’t worried because what was Suna compared to him.

While he figures he should call either of the two to make sure you are indeed safe, he doesn’t feel like getting a lecture right before bed. He grabs his glass of water before heading to bed. Noticing how cold the mattress is without you. It’s fine he thinks he doesn’t need you. He knew that fact from the countless woman he’d beded in the last few years. Plus he’s sure you’ll come back. He’s the only man you’ve ever loved.

———

Atsumu wakes the next morning to find the house eerily quiet. He pays little mind to it before heading off to the gym he has a game today he can’t allow himself to be distracted. The setters normal routine isn’t disrupted for the most part. Finding his team doing his warm ups. He does however run into Osamu at the gym he’s setting up his vendors stand for Onigiri Miya. His brother says nothing of you to Atsumu minus some well wishes. So you must have ran to Suna he muses. His game goes off with out a hitch securing the victory for MSBY.

He finds the house just as he left it no trace of you having step foot back into your home. He checks his phone looking for a sign that you want to talk. No messages or calls. He decides to try and check you location but it seems that your number is no longer connected to his plan. He furrows his brow it seemed like a big step but he brushes it off his mind. He had just won a big game he wanted to celebrate. Usually he’d have dinner with you either going out or indulging in your delicious home cooking, you both share smiles about the game either her gushing about her favorite moments had she attended the game which normally she’d try to make a priority, although there were times you’d have class or work and you have to miss in which you’d sit and listen to him starry eyed as he retold the highlights of the game. You look at him like he was a star shooting across the sky. But right now the kitchen was empty and the house was silent missing the awes of your praise. It was to much at the moment. The setter changes into something dashing before heading out he’ll grab something to eat and then maybe get a celebratory drink.

That’s how Atsumu found himself here at some sleek bar with a glass of scotch in his hand. He surveyed the bar watching the people around dance and talk and go about their night. He try’s not to think about the silence waiting for him at home .That’s until he spots a girl. She look kind of like you similar build although her hair is longer and a slightly different hue. He knows it’s not you but still that hasn’t stopped him before so he slides his way over to her.

“Hi there,” he smiles a charming smile. She looks up at him giving a sly smile. From here he can see her eyes they’re nothing like yours, he shakes the thought from his head. “You know your boyfriend really shouldn’t leave you all alone like this you are much to beautiful,” if he a a nickel for every time he used that line he could probably retire early. He could see a slight blush appear on her cheeks.

“I would tell him but I don’t have one Mr. — ,” she trailed off leaving an opening for his name.

“Miya,” he smiles a bright fake smile. “And you are?” He questions.

“Chiyo,” she smile subtly biting her lip as her eyes raked down his figure. It’s almost too easy he thinks to himself.

“Well Chiyo-San may I buy you a drink?” He not so subtly eyes her as well.

And that how he got here for the first time ever he brought a woman home to your bed. Their body’s mashed together. Their clothes strewn around the house leading a trail to the bedroom. The recently quiet house filled with grunts and moans. “Miya-San,”she cry’s out and he has to try not to roll his eyes. She might look like you but she sounds nothing like you. You always makes the prettiest gasps and mewls as he worked your body over. She doesn’t feel like you, he can’t remember the last time you were together like this breathless underneath him. He shakes his head trying to rid himself of the thoughts. He’s confused he never compared you before with is flings you were always separate from his mind when the slept with other women. Frustrated with his thoughts he pulls out flipping the chick ,what was her name Chizu? , over on her knees before pounding into her relentlessly pushing her face in to the mattress as he took frustrations out. Her moans get louder as his face scrunches up in annoyance. It’s not long before he’s finished them both off and she laying there breathless as he throws away the condom. He see her make herself a little more comfortable on his bed he shared with you. He cringes.

“Hey Chizu, uh it’s probably best if you get going,” he states pulling a pair of sweatpants on.

He can see the disgust on her face. “My name is Chiyo asshole!” She says grabbing her clothes on as she start out the door.

Normally he’d care that he’d at least said the wrong name. But right now he just laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. The silence was back.

———

It has been two weeks since you left. He hadn’t heard from you, you never came back for your stuff. He hasn’t heard from Suna yet either although he figures the ass is to busy trying win and mend your broken heart. It’s only been two weeks but those two weeks without you were torture. He realized very quickly how much comfort you brought to him. How much he relied on you. All the mornings you’d spend cuddled together drinking your morning coffee. Although that had been less recent while he busying himself with Yuki. He missed the delicious meals you’d cook. Or the way you’d take care of him if he’d train to hard. He misses seeing you at the desk studying away your tongue poking out ever so slightly as you concentrated. He misses your laugh that would fill the house as you watched whatever anime you were currently bingeing always asking him to join you. You were always the one looking out for him making sure that he ate and rested. Always handling the groceries and the house work. The place was a mess without you he was a mess with out you. He misses the life you brought to the his home. He’s drawn from with wallowing when he hears knocks at the door.

He’s surprised to see his brother and Suna standing on the other side.

“Hey I’ve been trying to get in touch with YN but she’s hasn’t been answering is she here?” Suna asks stepping to his house his brother following behind. Suna stops his face scrunching up at the state of the place. Osamu also notices.

“Damn Tsumu its a mess in here YN let y’all live like this?” His twin asks taking a good look at his disheveled twin. “What happened,” concern crossing his similar features.

Atsumus mind starts to reel a bit. You werent with Suna?

“YN hasn’t been with you?” He looks at the middle blocker he was hoping he knew how you were.

“No,” he states starting to get really worried. “What happened,” there was an edge to his voice.

Atsumu stayed quiet. His brother nudges him but he still looks down. It isn’t until Suna grabs him by his collar that he looks up.

“She left me.”He states.

“That makes no sense YN loves you with everything she has she wouldn’t just leave you, what happened,” Osamu questions again.

“I cheated on her and she found out,” he says. He doesn’t look up but he can feel the rage coming off of Suna and the disappointment from his twin.

“What the fuck do you mean you cheated on her!” he yelled shaking him “for how long!”

The was no use lying and trying to hide it you weren’t coming back he can tell. And even if you would he knew he didn’t deserve you.

“The past 2 years,” he chokes out. Suna let’s go of his collar in disbelief.He breaths getting ready to explain everything but he wasn’t ready when he felt a fist connect with his cheek. He was on the ground rubbing his jaw. He looked up and Suna was seething in anger. His brother looked disgusted with him.

“Where is she,” Suna demanded.

“I don’t know she left two weeks ago I figured she was with you,”

“So lets get this straight you broke her heart and she left you and you didn’t even check to make sure she was safe! Did you ever even love her,” the dark haired middle blocker screamed at his former teammate.Of course he did but he cant say that not after he never showed it. He look down he couldn’t meet his friends eyes he felt so ashamed. He heard a scoff and then the front door slam. Suna was gone. He looked up and saw his brother staring down at him.

“You’re a real piece of shit you know that,” Samu says before he follows out the door.

Sobs tear through Tsumu as he realizes he ruined everything.

He sat there on the floor left in silence.

Home Masterlist

Taglist: @momoinot @multi-fandom-fanfic

[haus-seeblick]

Suptober Day 2: No Vacancy

Title: Backroad Romance

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,119

Tags: First Kiss, Dean Winchester and Castiel are Alone in the Dark, Mild Angst With a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Making out in the Impala

On AO3 Here

“You’re shittin’ me, Sammy.” Dean groans and smacks the steering wheel with his palm. “There’s no room in the whole place?”

Sam’s voice floats into the Impala, high and tinny over the burner phone’s speakers. “No vacancy, Dean, I’m sorry, I checked with them three times--”

“--Nah, nah, it’s cool, we believe you,” Dean interrupts, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear so he can rub his face while steering around a bend. Cas reaches over and deftly slips the phone away, fingers pinched like he’s removing a block from a Jenga tower.

“Did you and Eileen find accommodations?” Cas asks, holding the phone out in front of him so Dean can listen in.

There’s a short pause, then: “Yeah… yeah, we did, but guys, the room is really small, like, a closet, I swear, and there’s only one bed, and--”

This time it’s Cas who interrupts. “--and you wish to engage in private romantic activities. Dean and I completely understand.”

They’re on a straight stretch of highway, but Dean still manages to swerve clumsily into the shoulder. He hastily course-corrects and bites down the urge to snap at Cas for-- for what? For talking like that? For using his deep, rough voice to say any words even vaguely related to--

No. It’s not Cas’ fault that everything he does steadily turns Dean into more and more of a creep. Dean shakes his head firmly and tunes back in to the conversation just in time to catch Sam awkwardly stumbling over his reply. Dean leans over, cutting him off with a whistle into the phone.

“We’ll be fine, little brother. Be a gentleman. Don’t hog the sheets. Girl like Eileen doesn’t come around every day.”

He can feel the bitchface radiating through the speaker and motions at Cas to hang up. Cas frowns and gravely says “Dean would like to end the conversation. Goodbye, Sam,” before flipping the phone shut. He drops it into the cupholder.

Dean makes a show of focusing on the road to avoid looking at Cas. He knows Cas is staring at him; it’s just something the guy does, sitting in the passenger seat and gazing at Dean as if the whole world isn’t flashing by outside.

Dean’s long stopped commenting on it. Let the dude stare.

He clears his throat. “We’ll probably have to find a logging road or something. Pull in and hole up for the night.”

“All right,” Cas replies. He opens the glovebox and pulls out the local map they picked up this afternoon when they rolled into Matlock, Washington, to investigate a haunted post office. It was a gray, dinky, bleak town and the poor ghost lurking around the mailroom seemed more melancholy than anything. She allowed them to dispatch her into the afterlife with very little struggle; that is, after some creative sweet-talking by Sam.

Eileen had teased Sam mercilessly about it before Dean had even gotten a chance. That’s how Dean knows she’s The One.

There was, of course, no motel in town. Sam and Eileen hit the road before Dean and Cas, because Dean insisted on getting a burger for dinner at the tiny diner on Main Street (a mistake). Now he’s staring down the barrel of a night alone with Cas, in cramped quarters, on a dark backroad. If they hadn’t already driven all day to get to Matlock, Dean would push on until they found a motel with vacancies, but he’s exhausted and Cas is just human enough these days to actually be tired too.

“There’s an access road nearby,” Cas says, tracing the map with his index finger. “In a quarter mile. Left.”

Dean follows his directions and sure enough, there’s a bumpy logging road branching off from the highway, stretching deep into the pitch-black trees. Dean pulls in about five hundred feet before turning off the lights and the ignition.

It’s silent. The darkness is all-encompassing, pressing in on Dean, so heavy it’s like he can feel it on his eyelids when he blinks. He takes a slightly shaky breath. Cas is utterly still, as usual, not a single rustle or exhale indicating his presence in the gloom, but Dean feels him there as intensely as he’d feel a roaring bonfire. His heart thuds in his ears.

Why is he freaking out? He’s slept in the car with Sam a million times. But even as he thinks that, he knows, he knows, that this is different. His brain starts whirling through logistics -- who’s gonna take the back seat? Is Cas even gonna sleep the whole night? Or will he wake up and just sit there, staring at Dean for hours, inches away?

Dean needs to shut off his brain. He taps the seat and says “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean,” comes the immediate response, measured and reassuring. “Would you like to talk?”

Relaxing against the seat and slinging an arm over the backrest, Dean peers over to the passenger side. “Sure.”

The moon’s out tonight, far above the trees, and the grayscale of nighttime slowly bleeds into view as Dean’s eyes adjust. He can just make out the sharp angle of Cas’ nose, the slope of his chest and the outline of his hands folded in his lap. He’s always so upright, so proper. Dean wonders what it would feel like to undo him.

“Are Sam and Eileen having sex?”

Dean chokes on air. Sputtering, he braces himself on the seat and coughs until his eyes stop watering. “What?” he wheezes. “Why-- Dude, why would you ask that?”

He sees Cas turn his head to regard him. Even in the dark, Dean can imagine the piercing gaze.

“It was unclear to me what you meant by ‘be a gentleman.’” Cas lifts his hands to shape the finger quotes. “I assumed the two of them would take advantage of their privacy to engage in physical intimacy. Was your comment meant to discourage Sam from having sex?”

Dean throws up his hands desperately. “Okay-- okay, first of all, quit talking about my brother doing it. And second, no, I wasn’t ‘discouraging’ him, just reminding him to treat Eileen like a lady. You know, romance her a little.”

The darkness is a godsend as Dean’s cheeks flush hotter with every word. He’s surprised they’re not glowing. He taps the seat in a random pattern as Cas sits quietly, seemingly digesting the information.

When he responds, it’s slow and thoughtful. “In the pornography I’ve watched, the participants always begin undressing one another rather quickly. And in my own experiences, there has been very little that I would label ‘romantic.’ What is classified as ‘romance,’ Dean?”

Well, shit. The last of Dean’s composure evaporates, sizzles away like a drop of water meeting his burning face. He drops his head into his hands and groans.

Cas leans forward, his knee brushing Dean’s. “Have I made you uncomfortable?” he asks, voice laden with concern.

Dean’s throat is tight, his fingers sweaty against his forehead. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to at least open his eyes against the shadow of his palms. “Uh-- no. No, Cas. You, uh-- you should be able to ask that kinda stuff. Human stuff. I get that it’s, uh-- it’s important to know. For, y’know. So you can--”

There’s a hand on his knee. A warm, strong hand. Long fingers. Weighty. Dean’s heart kicks into overdrive. He slowly, very slowly, lowers his hands to peek at Cas.

“How do you like to be romanced, Dean?”

There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing in Dean’s brain. It’s a chamber of silence. A void. He stares at the outline of Cas’ wild hair, mouth slightly open.

“...Dean?” The hand on his knee shifts slightly and Dean’s blank brain runs zero interference as his own hand darts out and stills the one threatening to leave his leg. As soon as his skin makes contact with Cas’, though, everything zings back online in a rushing roar.

Play it off, Winchester. Crack a joke. C’mon. “Hah, funny, buddy, you really got me there--”

“--Kissing’s nice.”

He snaps his mouth shut too late. The words float away, unrecoverable.

Cas tilts his head. Then, slowly, very slowly, as if he’s afraid of spooking Dean, he turns his hand around under Dean’s so that they’re palm to palm. An invitation.

With a pounding heart, Dean accepts it. He laces their fingers together. His palm feels even sweatier when it’s rubbing up against Cas’ dry, smooth skin.

Sexy, Dean. Way to go.

Somehow, even though it was Cas asking the questions, he’s the one leading now, shifting closer, laying his left arm along the backrest behind Dean’s shoulders. Their faces are so close that they’re sharing air, just two shadows suspended in a frozen moment.

“May I kiss you?” Cas murmurs gently, his breath washing over Dean’s lips. It smells like rain-refreshed air, like a promise of sunshine, alleviating the weight of the darkness. Dean tentatively chases it with his tongue, wetting his lips and leaving them parted.

“Yeah,” he whispers back. Because fuck, he wants this. He’s wanted this for so long.

And Cas wants it, too.

Dean always imagined that his first kiss with Cas would be an inferno, fireworks, showering sparks, all those cliches. That it would yank him from his body and send him floating through the ether.

It’s not like any of that. It’s better. It’s real.

Cas’ lips are just lips -- a little more chapped than Dean’s used to, perhaps, but they meet his in a familiar brush, followed by the typical tentative press, leading into a hesitant swipe of the tongue.

He’s kissing Cas. Cas, who he’s built up in his head for so long as this untouchable, impossible ideal, who stormed Hell to drag him out, who smote demons with his bare hands, who is so inconceivably old that Dean should be just a speck of sand under his eternal gaze.

Instead, that same Cas is busy dragging his fingers down the side of Dean’s neck. A crest of goosebumps follow, shivers trailing down Dean’s torso, and he gasps a quivery breath against Cas’ lips. He’s not used to being led. Normally he’s the one in charge, giving as good as he gets, focused on hitting the highlights, satisfying his partner. There’s a whole formula.

He’s never trembled like this before.

“Dean,” Cas whispers against his mouth, reverent, his voice somehow gravelly even as a breath. He suddenly pulls his hand free from Dean’s and grips his bicep, dropping his other arm from the backrest to wrap around Dean’s waist. Without preamble, he twists, tugging Dean across his lap. Dean yelps and hurriedly adjusts his legs, ending up with his knees on the seat, straddling Cas’ thighs. His fingers and toes are zinging in excitement.

Goddamn. Who knew being manhandled would do it for him?

The crown of his head presses against the roof of the car and he slouches forward until their foreheads are touching. He pushes his hands into Cas’ hair.

Cas surges forward again, nudging Dean’s head to the side and pressing his lips to Dean’s neck. Dean groans, low and shaky, as Cas parts his lips and sucks a trail up to Dean’s earlobe, his tongue soothing in the wake of his mouth, dragging over every mark that he coaxes to the surface. Dean knows his neck will be littered with bruises tomorrow, but he finds he can’t bring himself to care, not when Cas’ teeth are busy grazing the shell of his ear.

“Jeez, Cas,” he breathes, dropping his forehead to Cas’ shoulder. He's hard already, hips twitching a little, but he keeps his hands firmly in Cas’ hair, tugging the soft, thick strands, guiding Cas’ mouth back down to his neck. His pulse hammers under each press of chapped lips.

He pulls back and captures Cas’ mouth again, sliding his tongue into that wet heat. They trade open-mouthed kisses, a bit sloppy, while Cas’ hands glide up Dean’s back under his flannel. Dean’s absolutely flying, his pounding heart easily winning the battle against the tiny voice in his head dredging up reasons to stop, reasons to run.

He wants to stay .

Their kisses have escalated to a panting, frenzied give-and-take, and Dean’s tired of hunching over. He drops his hands onto Cas’ shoulders and starts leaning back over to the driver’s seat, trying to pull Cas on top of him. Cas whines when their lips separate, but he catches on quickly. A little too quickly. He grips Dean’s waist and shifts him along the bench seat with such force that Dean’s arm goes flying and his elbow smacks right into the middle of the steering wheel.

The horn blares, rending the night.

Both Dean and Cas jerk upright, instantly on high alert. Reality takes a moment to catch up with them.

Cas recovers first. “That startled me,” he says, voice wrecked.

Dean lets out a long breath. He’s still got one leg up on the seat, the other one cramped awkwardly next to the steering wheel. He drags a hand across his face and lets out a breathy laugh. The next thing he knows, he’s doubled over, laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and his eyes water.

He’s just so goddamn happy.

Cas watches him, head tilted in the shadows. Dean lets his laughter run its course, petering out with a sigh of mirth and hand slapped on Cas’ knee.

“What a night, huh?” he says.

Cas lifts a hand and strokes Dean’s cheek with his knuckles. Even after all that making out, this one gesture seems inordinately intimate. But Dean just smiles.

Cas swipes his thumb over Dean’s cheekbone one more time before slowly, almost reluctantly, letting his hand fall. “You need to sleep.”

Dean nods and glances into the backseat. “You do too, don’t you? At least a bit? Maybe we can both fit back there.”

They get out of the car -- the cool night air rushes into Dean’s lungs and fizzes through his chest, bringing the events of the past half hour into blood-rich focus in his brain. He steels himself for the freakout, for the doubt and the deflection, but it doesn’t come. He feels right.

They crawl into the backseat, awkwardly shuffling and shifting, ending up with Cas sitting mostly upright (insisting that he’s fine) and Dean laid out on the seat with his head in Cas’ lap.

He drops off to sleep faster than he has a long time, Cas’ long fingers carding through his hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the light that wakes him, pale gray seeping under his lashes and rousing him from a blissfully dreamless sleep. He lifts his head and immediately winces -- his neck is stiff as a board and his back aches all the way down to his tailbone. He’s really getting too old to be sleeping in the car.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean twists around and peers blearily up at Cas, who’s gazing down at him with one of his rare enigmatic smiles. Dean yawns and stretches as best he can, his back popping. He pushes himself up until he’s sitting next to Cas.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

Cas leans over and, before Dean can react, presses a warm, dry kiss to Dean’s cheek.

Sore body or not, this is the best morning of Dean’s life.

They extract themselves from the backseat and stumble into the damp early-morning air. Dean pops the collar of his flannel after a single glance into the side mirror. He’s got a lot of hickies.

They take a second to stretch (Dean admires the way Cas’ pecs shift under his dress shirt as he reaches for the sky) before sliding into the front seat. Dean backs them out of the logging road, the verdant green pines on either side nearly overwhelming his night-accustomed eyes.

Cas calls Sam as they roar down the highway again. It’s only 5 a.m., but Dean handed Cas the phone and told him to give Sam a wakeup call. The kid deserves it after a good night’s sleep in a real bed.

They pull into the parking lot of the Cedar Crest Motel just past 5:30. Dean ends up having to park on the street, though, because the lot’s at capacity, not a single spot unoccupied. He pats Baby in apology as he leaves her, and he and Cas make their way to the room number that a very irritated, cranky Sam snapped at them over the phone.

They’ve almost reached it when Dean suddenly stops dead. He grabs Cas’ arm. Cas shoots him a questioning glance.

“Look." Dean points up at the motel sign. There, huge red letters, blinking through the pale morning light, spell out a clear VACANCY.

“It’s hardly been six hours," Dean says. "No one would’ve checked out in the middle of the night.”

Suspicion rising rapidly, he strides to Sam’s door and knocks as obnoxiously as he can. As soon as the door creaks open, he reaches through and grabs Sam’s shirt, yanking him outside. Sam protests and slaps at Dean with one hand, shoving his bird’s nest hair out of his face with the other.

“What the hell, Dean!”

Dean just throws one arm up at the sign, staring at Sam with raised eyebrows. As soon as Sam sees what he’s pointing at, he shrinks into what Dean immediately recognizes as guilty little brother posture. He’s not even trying to hide it.

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, eyes darting between Dean and Sam, before holding out a placating hand. “I just-- I just thought, maybe you could use some time alone,” he explains hastily, backing up a bit into the room. “If we all ended up here, Dean, you’d insist that we share, you know you would.”

Dean knows Sam’s right (he’s careful with their fake money, so sue him), but he keeps glaring regardless.

“I just wanted some time with Eileen,” Sam mumbles, deflating a bit. “And I thought, y’know, with how you and Cas have been acting lately, that you’d-- uh, that you’d want some time together, too.”

Dean sputters. “Acting? We-- what--”

“Thank you, Sam,” Cas says, deep voice cutting off Dean’s protests. “We had a very pleasant night.”

Sam’s eyes widen and he straightens up, a knowing grin stretching over his face. His eyes dart to Dean’s popped collar. “Oh yeah? Did you now?”

Dean shoves him into the room and slams the door shut. There. He turns to Cas, who looks amused.

“Give me at least a couple days before blabbing to my brother,” Dean says, but he finds himself smiling. Cas nods. He reaches out and takes Dean’s hand, just for a moment, squeezing before letting it fall again.

“Of course, Dean.”

[wzrd-wheezes]

George Weasley x Reader - Stay Here.

A/N: Hello! I’m back with another fic and this time it’s a George one. This is the longest fic I’ve written so far and the first time that I’ve written any smut (there’s only a little bit right at the end so if you’re under 18 don’t read it) please let me know if you enjoy!

Warnings: fluffy smut. its nothing too bad but don’t read if you’re under 18. there’s also a bit of angst and mentions of cheating in relationships. Quite a lot of swearing as well. 

2.5k words 

masterlist here

“Don’t fucking speak to her like that.” George step foot into their house, “if I were you, I’d let go of her arm and let her come with me. She clearly doesn’t want to be with a piece of shit like you,”

“No! You do this every time! Every single fucking time you tell me that it won’t happen again and it always fucking does,” Y/N yelled.

“It’s not like that! You know it’s not like that, babe.” Her boyfriend tried to calm her down.

             “Don’t you ‘babe’ me after what you’ve done. This is the third time now! What do you expect me to do, let you cheat on me time and time again and keep giving you chance after chance?” she stormed up the stairs and into their bedroom.

             “I didn’t cheat! Jess is just a friend!” he yelled, following her into bedroom

             “Last time I checked, you don’t fuck your friends,” she grabbed a bag from the closet and began throwing clothes into it.

             “You’re one to talk, that ginger little prick you’re friends with is constantly up your arse. He basically undresses you with his eyes every time you’re together!”

             “Don’t try and turn this around on me. George is my friend, and you know that. You’re just jealous because I enjoy spending time with him because he isn’t a dick like you are.” She turned around to leave the room. Her boyfriend grabbed her arm and pulled her back in, slamming the door shut and leaning against it.

             “I swear to god, if you don’t move out of my way…” she drew her wand out and pointed it at him. She barged past him and into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She took her phone from her pocket and held it to her ear.

             “Please, please can you come and get me.”

 A short while later there was a knock at the door. Y/N rushed to get there before her boyfriend did but by the time she had reached the last step the front door had already been swung open.

             “What the fuck are you doing here?” her boyfriend spat.

             “I’ve come to pick Y/N up,” George replied firmly. Her boyfriend span around quickly to look at her.

             “Oh, of course you rang him,” he raged, “why aren’t I surprised?”

             “Jack, can you please just get out of the way,” Y/N pleaded, trying to get around him.

             “Why should I? so you can go to his house and fuck him like you’ve always wanted to,” he pointed at George accusingly.

             “Don’t fucking speak to her like that.” George step foot into their house, “if I were you, I’d let go of her arm and let her come with me. She clearly doesn’t want to be with a piece of shit like you,”

             “And why should I-”

George didn’t even give him time to reply before landing a harsh punch on his jaw. Jack staggered back a few paces, fury spreading over his face before launching himself at George. George fell backwards against the wall, holding Jack at arms-length.

             “Y/N, go and get in the car,” he strained, “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She did as he said and got into the passenger seat of his car. She sat in silence for a few moments before breaking down into fits of tears. What was she going to do? Her whole life had been shattered before her very eyes. She didn’t have anywhere to live now that she had walked out. After what seemed like an age, George returned to the car, slamming the door shut as he got in.

             “He’s a right foul, git, d’you know that?” he wiped some blood off of his lip. Y/N nodded silently and began sobbing again. George didn’t say another word the whole journey back to his flat. The pair sat in silence, Y/N gazed out of the window into the night, looking at all the lit-up houses and wondering if they were filled with happy couples. The car slowed as they arrived at George’s. He still had noy spoken a word. Walking round to the other side of the car, he opened Y/N’s door for her. It was as she stood up in front of him, he realised how broken she looked. Her eyes that used to light up at his jokes were bloodshot. Her normally rosy cheeks now tearstained. The girl that stood in front of him looked small and scared.

             “C’mon, let’s go inside.” He took her hand and led here through the front door.

George and Fred still lived together, their home was a place of sanctuary for Y/N when her and Jack used to fall out. She had spent countless nights on their sofa in front of the fire. As they walked through the hallway, she noticed the glow of the living room light peaking out under the doorway. Fred was still awake. George opened the door for her and ushered her through.

             “Where the bloody hell have you been? It’s getting la-” Fred’s sentence trailed off as her caught sight of Y/N, tears still leaking from her eyes. His eyes then glanced over to George, who’s nose was still a bit bloody and his lip now swelling up.

             “What the fuck happened?” Fred sounded astonished.

             “Jack and I broke up,” Y/N choked out, “I found out he was cheating on me again,”

             “He’s a right nasty piece of work,” Fred stood up, “d’you want me to go round there and sort him out?”

             “I sorted it,” George confirmed, sitting down on the sofa, “Chuck me that box of tissues will you, Fred?” He cleaned up the rest of the blood from his nose. Y/N sat down next to George. The three made conversation for a few moments.

             “I’m going to go to bed, give me a shout if you need anything, yeah?” Fred departed.

 Y/N and George sat in silence again, until Y/N spoke.

             “I’m sorry,” her words seemed to echo in the silent room.

             “What are you on about?” George raised an eyebrow at her.

             “I’m sorry that you always have to sort me out,” she sniffed, “I’m sorry that every single time Jack and I used to argue you had to come and get me. I’m sorry that he hurt you and I’m sorry that you have to put up with me being all upset,”

             “Oh, Y/N,”

             “I’m just, I’m really scared, George. I can’t go back there. All my stuff is there. I don’t have a home anymore.”

             “I know, love.” He looked sad, “but you’re away from him now. And in the meantime, you can stay here and you can have a job at our shop until we get you back on your feet.”

             “Really? You’d do all that for me?” she turned round to look at him properly. It was the first time in a while that George had really seen her up close. He’d always thought that she was beautiful and dare he even say, he’d always had a bit of a soft spot for her. But it just so happened that she had always had a boyfriend. Besides, George was certain that she didn’t see him in that way.

             “Of course, I would, Y/N, you’re my friend.” That last word seemed to ring in his ears as soon as it left his mouth. Friend. That was all that he was to her. Her friend. She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder.

             “Thank you, Georgie.”

 Y/N had been living with Fred and George for a few weeks now. She filled her days by working long hours in the joke shop. She didn’t mind though; it kept her mind off of things and allowed her to spend some more time with the twins. She had grown even closer with them in the last few weeks, particularly with George. They would stay up late at night to speak to each other, even though they both had work early in the morning. If Y/N didn’t feel like she had a wedge of ice stabbed through her heart, she might have said that she was falling for George. She knew that it was probably going to take a while for her to begin to trust people again, for her to be ready to give her all to someone, knowing that they could take it all away from her, like had been done in the past though. Surely, though, if she was going to fall for anyone, George Weasley would be perfect. He was kind and patient and funny. He made Y/N know that he was there for her when she was feeling down. It was on one of Y/N’s days off from the shop that Fred confronted his brother about it.

               “You love her.” He said bluntly, as he refilled the shelves of Weather in a Bottle. George stayed quiet, “You do,”

             “I know, Fred. I know I do,” George looked distressed, “but she doesn’t see me like that,”

             “I know you’re my twin brother and everything, Georgie, but bloody hell you’re not as clever as me,” Fred teased, “It’s obvious.”

             “What is?”

             “That she likes you back, you muppet,” Fred laughed, “have you not seen the way she looks at you? Like you’re shining the sun out of your arse.” George chuckled, shaking his head at his twin. For the rest of the day he found himself smiling. All his thoughts were filled with Y/N, he couldn’t wait to get home. When he eventually step foot into their flat, they began their nightly routine of having dinner together and then chilling out in front of the fire. Y/N was sprawled out on the sofa reading her book, her head resting in George’s lap as he watch the T.V. For some reason, he felt nervous being around her, like he should make some sort of move or something.

             “You look tense,” Y/N sat up and turned to face him, “what’s up?”

             “Nothing, I’m just a bit tired that’s all,”

Y/N put her head against his shoulder, nudging her way in so his arm was around her. George shot her a quizzical look.

             “I just wanted a cuddle,” she shrugged, “sleeping on this sofa is killing my back,”

             “You can have my bed tonight if you want,” George offered smiling at her. She stood up and made her way out of the living room.

             “Night, then?” George said, puzzled.

             “Are you not coming? I’m sure we can both squeeze into your bed.”

 George grinned as he climbed into his bed next to her. They lay facing each other for a little while, neither of them muttering a word. Y/N’s nose was practically touching his, he could feel the warmth of her breathe on his face. She fluttered her eyes shut for a moment. George mustered up all the courage he could find and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Her eyes snapped open, and for a second, she looked a bit taken aback. George’s heart sank for moment, until her lips met his for the second time. She was kissing him. It was as if all of the fireworks in their joke shop had gone off inside of him. What started out as a sweet kiss deepened as George crept his tongue into her mouth. He could feel her lips smiling against his and she climbed on top of him. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull him closer to her. Y/N’s hands grabbed at the hem of his t-shirt, jerking it off of him. She trailed her kisses down from his lips to his neck. George groaned slightly. Her kisses moved down to his shoulder and she started making her way down his kiss, leaving fleeting kisses as she moved.

             “Wait, Y/N,” George mumbled.

             “What?” She pushed her hair out of her face so she could look at him.

             “This isn’t just… I don’t know how to say it,” he looked worried.

             “Just say it, Georgie,” Y/N moved so she was straddling him now.

             “I’m not just some rebound to you, am I?” he blurted out, “because I don’t want to do this if it doesn’t mean anything.” Y/N smiled at him.

             “Of course you’re not just a rebound,”

             “Good. Because I love you, Y/N, I really, really do,” he smiled, “it broke my heart seeing you all upset. I just wanted to be the one to make you feel better.”

             “You have, George. I promise you, you have. I think I love you too. I’m just so, so scared of getting my heart broken again,”

             “I could never do that, love.” George sat up, so that once again, their noses were brushing against each other. This time, he kissed her more passionately. Flipping her over so that she was lying beneath him, her hair splayed out on his pillow. He toyed with the hem of her shirt for a few seconds before removing it and throwing it onto the floor. Wet kisses were placed against her neck and he began moving down her body, leaving gentle kisses along the waistband of her pyjama bottoms before removing them as well. Positioning himself between her legs, he took a final look at the girl that lay in front of him before slipping a finger inside of her. She gasped and tangled her hands in his hair as he began to lap at her.

“You sure you want to carry on?” he asked.

             “Please,” she nodded.

             “If you change your mind, just tell me to stop, okay?” The girl nodded again. Quickly, he removed his underwear and moved so that he was hovering over her, his arms either side of her head. He positioned himself and entered her slowly, giving her time to adjust before he quickened his pace. Y/N gasped and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body against hers. George was moaning gently in her ear, whispering sweet nothings as he fucked her.

             “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

 The next morning, Y/N woke up with her body entangled with George’s. One of his long arms wrapped around her waist and his legs intertwined with hers.

             “Good morning, darling,” he smiled softly. His hair was all messed up from the activities of the night before.

             “Morning,” Y/N beamed back at him.

             “We better get up before Fred wonders where we both are.”

 As the pair entered the living room, they were greeted by Fred, who sat on the sofa staring at them with a knowing look.

             “I go to bed early one night and you two can’t keep your hands off each other,” he chucked, shaking his head at them jokingly, “I don’t even want to know what happened in there last night, all I know is that Lee owes me 5 galleons.”

             “Why?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

             “He didn’t reckon that you two would get together this side of Christmas,” he grinned, “I was right, of course, I knew it wouldn’t take you two long.”  

[gureishi]

Hey Grace! Do you have any HCs on Saeyoung’s hygiene? I know it may sound a lil weird, but he would spend days without leaving his office/computer.. so would he change anything one he goes to the apartment with MC or when the enter a relationship?

Hello anonymous friend! I sure do, hehe~

Today, in “Saeyoung is cleaner than you think”

TW: child abuse and neglect

Saeyoung is a paradox. He can’t cook—he lives mainly on snacks and soda. He owns like three outfits, and he definitely sometimes works for 48+ hours without a single break. He leaves chip bags lying around and if no one comes to check on him, his office will slowly devolve into a literal garbage dump.

And yet. He has a walk-in closet full of beautiful and perfectly-maintained costumes. He knows how to style his hair—he just doesn’t bother to do it, most of the time. His clothes are too big and kind of ragged but they are always clean. His office may be chaos—a reflection of his frenzied mind—but there's no trash piled up in his room, and his bed is always made.

No one is cleaning up after him and Saeran when they are kids: their mother is sometimes drunk for days on end, and the house falls into disarray—and so the twins learn how to care for each other. The are washing each other’s hair at an age when most kids are still being bathed by their caregivers; they are disposing of wrappers from any snacks they’re able to steal with remarkable and fastidious care. If their beds aren’t made, they're in trouble. If their mom is ever lucid enough to look at them closely, and finds them dirty and disheveled, she tells them they are disgusting. So they are as neat and as clean and as quiet and as small as they can possibly be.

When Saeyoung begins at the agency, he is taking care of himself as best he knows how—by taking up as little space as possible. He’s barely eating; he’s keeping his few possessions neatly stacked and hidden away. 

When Vanderwood is assigned to be his handler, they are unsettled by this strange, smart kid: even for an agent, his work ethic is alarming. It is Vanderwood who starts bringing him snacks—and eventually, cooking him real meals, too. And for the very first time in his life, Saeyoung finds that there is someone who will clean up after him—check in on him and make sure he’s still alive. He’s a kid; he takes advantage of it. It’s like he’s testing his limits: how long till this person gives up on him, too?

Vanderwood doesn’t give up on him. Because it’s their job. Because they couldn’t possibly, even if they wanted to. Because they know how it feels to be a kid with nobody looking after you.

By the time you meet Saeyoung, he’s got this huge house (with practically nothing in it but computers and screens and weird robots and more computers). He’s got these cars, which he’s put hours and hours of work into—cleaning and maintaining and upgrading. But he’s still leaving trash around the house, and he’s still not making his own food.

Because if he does, maybe he won’t need a handler anymore.

Because if he can keep his house clean and feed himself, will there be anyone left who wonders whether or not he’s alive?

It’s not conscious. He thinks he’s messy because he likes it that way—assumes that it’s in his nature to leave piles of empty soda bottles under his desk. But unconsciously, he’s always wondering when the day will come when nobody checks on him anymore. 

He still makes his bed every day. Vanderwood got over being baffled by that ages ago.

And he takes just enough care of himself to be comfortable. He works out every day (or almost every day, as his work at the agency shifts to mostly hacking). He takes showers—quick ones, just long enough to get clean. He rotates between the handful of outfits he owns.

And yes, sometimes he works for days on end without eating, or sleeping, or showering. And he feels terrible when he does it: sweaty and sticky and dizzy and nauseous. That sort of misery feels right, to him: it’s how a cockroach like him deserves to live, he thinks.

But listen, when he’s in the apartment with you, he is showering all the time. He is terrified that you’ll think he’s gross, for one thing—and besides, every half hour or so he catches a glimpse of your leg or something and has to do five hundred sit-ups to try and work off some of his frenzied energy. So then he has to shower again. He’s, like, alarmingly clean.

And in the future, when you’re living together, he is better—and worse—about taking care of himself. He does dishes now, because you’re probably doing most of the cooking, and he doesn’t believe that you should cook and clean up afterwards. He does laundry, too—but you normally have to prompt him, and he doesn’t always do a good job. He still leaves wrappers and bottles all over his office, but that’s his problem. He showers a normal amount—but sometimes he does still get so hyper-fixated on a project that he forgets about the passage of time.

But you’re there, now. When he’s been up all night trying to get a robot foot to bend the right way, you bring a blanket and wrap it around his shoulders. You make him drink water instead of soda, and you kiss his cheek and tell him he’s kind of gross and he needs to change clothes. He laughs and pulls you into his lap—and from there, it’s easy to persuade him to take a break. You can even get him into the shower, if you’ll come with him.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he’s stopping wondering when he’ll be left all alone.

And even though he’s no longer dreading the day the world will forget about him, he still calls Vanderwood sometimes and begs them to come over and do his laundry. Vanderwood grunts and hangs up on him—but a couple hours later, they show up.

You don’t let them do the laundry. But you make them a cup of coffee and you squeeze their hand. Thanks, you want to tell them, for keeping him alive.

[xofanfics]

Without Warning - Part IV

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: Reader x Mark ft. Doyoung

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You and Doyoung had the best summer you could. Now that he’s hundreds of miles away in college, you have to go through senior year alone. You meet Mark at a time when Doyoung is making you feel like you’re single.

Mark was completely taken aback by the events of the night. You’d kissed him and you held his hand and you brought him into your room. Mark could hardly contain his excitement about having kissed you, touched you, and having been close enough to pick up on your scent. For him it wasn’t sexual. It didn’t have to be and, to be honest, he didn’t want it to be. At least, not right now. For now, he was just enjoying this innocence with you.

You went in your drawers and pulled out pajamas, sending Mark into anxiety. Please don’t change in front of me, please don’t change in front of me, he thought. The last thing he needed was to get hard right now and to potentially scare you away. He definitely wasn’t ready for something like that. Thankfully, you excused yourself into the bathroom and returned a couple minutes later with a freshly washed face and pajamas on. 

You looked beautiful as ever, even with no makeup on. He’d seen you a few times without makeup but on most days, he noticed, you’d at least be wearing eyeliner. But here you were, no eyeliner, no mascara, and none of your usual lipgloss with the slight pink tint to it. 

Mark was lying across your bed, heart racing. He was nervous because he’d never seen you in this state and, of course, because he liked you a lot. “You feeling okay?”

You nodded. “Just a little tired. Do you wanna watch my show with me?”

“Yeah. What show?”

“I started rewatching Sailor Moon.”

“I’m down for whatever.” 

You crawled into the bed with him and snuggled up to him, lying on his chest. He wasn’t sure if you could hear his heart racing but it was definitely racing. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. He didn’t know if it was because he’d been drinking or what; he just knew that he was very aware of himself right now. Was he breathing too hard? Was he breathing at all? Did he still smell like alcohol? Did you actually like him, the same way he did? He had so many questions and most of them, he couldn’t answer at the moment.

One minute you were watching tv in silence and the next minute, you were asleep. Mark looked down at you and smiled at how cute you looked with your mouth slightly open. He wished he had this view all the time. With a sigh, he thought about all the things you could do if you were his. But for now, he caressed your hand as you slept. He stayed like that with you for the rest of the episode before he figured he shouldn’t overstay his welcome. He scooted from underneath you but before he could get out of the bed you reached out for him, grabbing onto his arm.

“Don’t go,” you mumbled.

“What?”

You opened your eyes and pouted. “Cuddle with me…”

Mark’s heart started racing again but he did what you asked. Plus, how could he resist when you made a face like that. He got under the blanket with you and pulled you closer. You snuggled up to him and said, “Goodnight.” Mark smiled and wrapped his arms around you. And with you in his arms, he fell asleep more quickly than he normally would. 

*

“Y/N?”

Mark shot up, realizing that he probably should’ve asked you when and if your mom was coming back home. He looked down at you, still fast asleep. Should he hide under the bed? In the closet? He heard footsteps coming toward the closed door. Mark bolted into the closet, hoping that the door wasn’t the kind that would squeak as you opened it. Thankfully, it didn’t and he closed the door just enough. He took in a deep breath, praying that your mom had no reason to look in the closet.

“Y/N?” your mom said. She opened the door and Mark heard your mattress shift from outside the closet. 

“Hey,” you said. He heard you yawn loudly. He couldn’t see you but he imagined it in his mind. 

His heart raced while your mother spoke. Was he breathing too loud? Could your mom somehow sense his presence? Thankfully, he’d come over in his socks so there weren’t any shoes by the door to be evidence. He’d met your mom a couple times at this point but he was pretty sure your mom wouldn’t have been very happy to come home and find the two of you asleep in each other’s arms. 

“Did you have fun with Mark and your friends?” She chuckled as Mark’s heart continued racing. “That’s good to hear. Anyway, it’s been a very long double shift so I think I’m going to take a bath with those bath salts you got me for my birthday. Get a little more sleep.”

“Okay,” you said, “See you later.”

Mark heard the door close and relief swept over him. A moment later, when he was sure your mom was gone, he whispered, “Y/N…”

“Mark?” You opened the closet door, surprised that Mark was there. You found him in between your jeans and your t-shirts. “Oh my God, I thought you left! I’m sorry, I forgot to set my alarm. I should’ve told you my mom was coming home in the morning. Unfortunately, she’s not on vacation in Mexico...”

“It’s all good,” he said, chuckling as he stepped out of the closet. “As long as she didn’t see us in the bed together, I think we’ll both survive.”

You laughed, too. “That was way too close.”

“Yeah, for sure. I should get out of here before your mom comes back...”

You nodded, moving out of his way. “Let me make sure she’s in the bathroom.” You left him in the room for a moment. Mark grabbed his phone from under your pillow. You came back and said, “The coast is clear.” 

You waved him over and he followed you to the front door. 

Mark turned to you. He needed to know before leaving here. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah,” you said, stretching.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

You nodded. “I remember everything. I meant everything.”

That brought a wide smile to Mark’s face. He felt his cheeks get hot and he wasn’t sure if he was visibly blushing or not. Then again, he didn’t care. Hell, if you meant all the things you’d said, nothing else mattered. You wanted to kiss him, genuinely. He wasn’t sure if you liked him like that but you clearly felt something. And, for now, that was good enough for him.

You had something you wanted to say but you hesitated. Things had taken a turn since last night. “Um…”

Mark noticed your hesitation. He supposed things did get a little awkward. “What’s up?”

“Since we’re sober now, will you kiss me?” you asked, taking Mark by surprise. You’d been so forward for the last ten hours and he had no idea what to make of any of this. You didn’t know what had come over you the past few hours.

“Yeah.” 

Mark leaned in slowly, pressing his lips to yours. Your lips felt the same, more or less. They weren’t as moist without lipgloss and they no longer tasted like cotton candy. But he enjoyed the kiss with you nevertheless. He pulled away a few seconds later with a smile. You looked into each other’s eyes for a moment and he kissed you again. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yep.” You took his hand in yours and squeezed it. “Now get out of here before my mom catches you here.”

With a chuckle and a kiss on your cheek, Mark was gone with the wind. 

*

Doyoung was annoyed and frustrated. He’d been trying to contact you for weeks on end to no avail. You’d dodged every obstacle. He’d hit you up on LINKEDIN, for God’s sake. He was putting in all that effort and you ignored him every time. He’d tried contacting you through your friends, on social media, and so on. But there was never any response. 

And then the one opportunity he had to talk to you, you were drunk off your ass. Was it that bad that you couldn’t contact him sober? Was it that bad that you had to be drunk to speak to him?

He was frustrated because he fucked up. He fucked up and he didn’t mean to. New stressors in his life weren’t any excuse to treat you the way he did. He got caught up in this new life and he took you for granted. He assumed you’d stick around because you loved each other, even though he hadn’t been acting like it. College life became more important to him that managing the relationship. But he snapped that one time and that was all it took to destroy the relationship. He was so stupid not to realize what was going on, not to realize how distant he’d become. It didn’t look good on his part, as your boyfriend.

How could he have been so stupid? He missed you. Some days, you were all he thought about. Were you sleeping well at night? Were you having fun? Did you...miss him? 

He was frustrated because he made a mistake, one that cost him even his friendship with you. He lost his girlfriend and his best friend, all at once. And he hated it. He missed being able to vent to you when he’d had a shitty day and he wished that he could call and tell you about it. But you took that option away from him and Amber and Phil weren’t much help either. He didn’t want to put them in the middle; it was an issue that he had with you and it wasn’t right to try to go through them.

Doyoung’s phone rang on his desk, disrupting him from his thoughts. It was his mother. She was the last person he wanted to speak to right now. He let it ring, hoping that she’d just leave it at that. The phone stopped ringing and he let out a sigh of relief. The relief only lasted for a few seconds and she started calling again. Doyoung rolled his eyes and sighed instead of hurling the phone across the room like he’d imagined in his head. He picked up the phone from off the desk and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey mom.”

“Just calling to check on you. How is everything?”

“It’s going okay. I’m working on a paper right now. I’m almost done. I got an B on my biology exam. I think I’m getting the hang of how I need to study for that class.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure you’ll do better for the next exam. Start preparing now so you can get a head start.” She cleared her throat. “Did you book your flight yet?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been so busy. I meant to tell you about it yesterday.”

“Good. The prices were getting more expensive.” She let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe your brother is getting married in three weeks.”

“I can’t believe I’m going to have to come right back to school after.”

“Me either. But you know how event venues are. They got a good deal considering it’s a weekend.”

“It’s going to be a long weekend.”

It would be. But all he could think about was the possibility of seeing you while he was back home. He had so many things he wanted to say, so many things to make up for. He just wanted confirmation if things between you two were truly over. What would he find if he looked you in your eyes? Love, hate, or indifference?

*

Amber hit you in the arm with the copy of Romeo and Juliet that had been sitting on your desk. “You and Mark what?” 

You shrugged and said, “We kissed...a few times. And he might’ve slept over last night...”

“Slept over? Did you guys do it?”

“No!” you said, probably a little more loudly than necessary. “It wasn’t like that. We just...cuddled and slept. But I forgot to set an alarm for when my mom came back so Mark must’ve heard her calling me and he hid in the closet.” You grabbed an oreo from the box sitting in the middle of the bed as Amber sat cross legged at the foot of the bed, waiting for the rest of the story. “At first I was sad because I thought he left in the middle of the night but he ended up in the closet because my mom came in to say hi.”

“Well this was definitely unexpected,” she said, “but Mark’s a pretty decent guy, being from the male species and all.”

“Yeah…”

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Mark?”

“I didn’t know. I mean, I never thought about it.”

“So you’re not sure?”

“I think I do like him…I mean, I liked the kiss and the cuddling. And it’s not like he’s not attractive.”

“You’re not using him to get over Doyoung, right?”

You shook your head. Of course, getting over a two year relationship wouldn’t be easy but you had to move on eventually. And, with the way he treated you, it would be easier once you met someone who truly had your best interests in mind. Mark was a sweet guy and he was a good friend. Even though things had been platonic up until this point, Mark had become one of your closest friends. You could trust him with your life and you knew that, perhaps, you could trust him with your heart, too.

You weren’t sure what came over you that night but all you could think of at the time was “What if we kissed?” The alcohol gave you the nudge but you found yourself thinking of Mark constantly. And every time you did, you smiled. You remembered how you felt when things had gotten more romantic with Doyoung. You’d get butterflies when you heard his name and you were excited to see him everyday at school.

It was pretty early on but you knew that you were starting to like Mark, as more than just a friend.

*

Lucas jogged over toward Mark, sweaty and exhausted. He plopped down on the bench next to his friend and took a long swig from his water bottle. They’d been playing basketball for about an hour. “Ready to go?”

Mark nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s head back. I’m starving.”

Lucas stood too and they headed to the parking lot, in search of the car. Mark took out the keys to his parents’ car and got in. As Lucas got in the passenger, he said, “So what happened after we left last night? Did you tell her you like her?”

“Well we, uh, kissed...and I did tell her I like her.”

Lucas smirked. “So she likes you after all, huh?”

“I mean, I think so.”

“What do you mean, you think so? Did you ask her?”

“I mean I didn’t ask her directly.”

“So what the hell did you talk about then?”

“Well we actually didn’t do too much talking.” 

As soon as the words left Mark’s mouth, he regretted them. He knew that it sounded a lot dirtier than he meant. And he knew that Lucas would take it the wrong way.

Lucas’ eyes widened as he took it the wrong way. “You fucked her?”

Mark turned in his seat. “No, no! We didn’t have sex or anything like that. I know it sounds kinda weird but she brought me over next door to hangout because she didn’t wanna be alone and then she kissed me and then she wanted me to stay over and cuddle with her. So we cuddled and we both fell asleep.”

“Cuddle, huh? We all know what cuddling leads to…”

“Hey, just because that’s what you and Marina do doesn’t mean it’s the same for me and Y/N! When are you going to start dating her anyway?”

“Hey! Don’t change the subject! We’re not talking about me and Rina. When are you going to take Y/N on a date?”

“Soon. I’m just not sure what we should do. Got any date ideas?”

“Y/N is a pretty simple girl. What about a picnic at the park? You could go around dinner and watch the sun set.”

*

Mark was feeling extra excited today. He got to the bus stop a few minutes early, so he could rehearse what he was going to say to you. He’d rehearsed it a million times last night into this morning. Initially, he thought about texting it to you but he decided against it; he figured that asking you in person would be better.

He’d been texting you all weekend but he hadn’t hung out with you. Part of him was hoping that the two of you could hang out at least once but you’d been out with your mom all day yesterday. And he understood because your mom hadn’t had a Sunday off in a while. He was satisfied with the kiss you promised him over text messages. 

You snuck up on Mark without meaning to. He’d been so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even see you coming in his peripheral vision. He jumped when you appeared in front of him, almost dropping his phone. “Shit!”

“Sorry,” you said, giggling, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay.” He sighed. “Ready for school?”

“I’m never ready for school.”

Mark chuckled. “Are you busy this weekend?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Would you wanna go on a date on Saturday?”

Your face lit up at his words. That made Mark happy. “I’d love that.” You hugged him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. And when you pulled away, you gave him that promised kiss. 

That, of course, made Mark even happier.

***

TAG LIST: @wanlore​

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If you want to be added to my tag lists, pls send an ask!

[43sparrows]

l o n g e d - {Five x Reader AU}

Read Part 1 & Part 2 & Part 3 / Part 3.5

Warning: smut

Word Count: 2,713

Note: please come scream at me in my inbox

Call me.

You've been dreading this note from Five for the past week. It's not that the words are new--a week ago, it would've been excitement causing the twisting feeling in your stomach--but it's the fact that this is the first note you've gotten since you're meltdown. Sure, he'd brushed off your apology, but it's been almost a full week since you've seen each other, and something just doesn't feel the same. Even your roommate has noticed something's off, and while you've shared the news about your ex, you can't bring yourself to tell her how you've gone and proven yourself to be more work than you're worth to Five. So, while the note itself is normal enough, you have the sinking sensation that this is his version of "We need to talk."

And you don't want to talk.

That's why it takes you hours to finally steel yourself up enough to return his call. The sky's growing dark by the time you dial in the number, standing in the hall with you head tilted back against the wall, the phone cord weaving between your fingers.

"Five." His brusque voice makes you want to hang up the phone. Instead, you adjust your grip and tug at the cord.

"Hey," you say, softly. "It's Y/N."

"Took you long enough." His voice is still flirting with being abrasive, but he's saying more than just a couple of words which must mean something. You're not sure what though. "What are you doing in...two hours?"

Confusion knits your brow together as you wrap the cord around one of your fingers. "Nothing, I'm free."

"Howling Rock Cafe. I'll be at the bar."

"Ok," you agree. There's a pause and then the other end of the line goes dead.

You sigh before slowly untangling yourself from the cord so you can hang up the phone and get ready

It's glaringly obvious within the first few seconds of entering the bar that this is not Five's scene.

You can't help but compare this place to the smoky night club where you first met.  It's like night and day--and not just because this place has strobe lights bathing just about every inch of the room in colorful lights.

For one, it seems to be crawling with barely legal drinkers. It's not like the two of you are that far removed in age from the rest of the crowd, but Five doesn't exactly seem the type to want to relive college nights out.

And then there's a cover band with the amps turned up way too high as they work their way through pop covers. You miss the lyric-less music of the other bar with its relentless beat that seemed to reverberate in your chest.

It crosses your mind that maybe Five had meant another place or that you'd misheard him on the phone, but then you catch sight of him sitting at the bar with a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

"What are you drinking?" You ask, slipping into the seat next to him. He looks at you with heavy lidded eyes, pupils already blown wide. His gaze slides from the curve of your breasts that disappear beneath the plunging neckline of your little black dress down to your legs.

His eyes flick back up to meet yours. "Brandy. For now."

The line would be clumsy on another man's lips, but something about the way he says it has you dizzy, and it's the one piece of Five that's seemed anywhere close to normal since that night.

You tear your eyes away from him, flagging down the bartender to order yourself a gin, neat.

"So," you say, anxiety knotting in the pit of your stomach as you toy with the question that's been on your mind the entire way to the bar. "Howl's?" You change course last second, asking a different, less terrifying question.

"I've heard things about this place," Five said with a shrug. "Figured I'd check them out."

"What'd you hear?" It's genuine curiosity, and maybe it's the refocused attention or maybe it's the large gulp of gin, but you feel yourself relaxing slightly.

"I heard they're heavy pourers," Five says, taking a sip of his drink. He lifts both eyebrows and places the glass back down on the bar.  "But it would seem I heard wrong."

You laugh. Nothing about this place suggests they have strong drinks. The prices are too cheap. The crowd is too young.

"At least the atmosphere is nice," you quip, and Five looks around the room before shooting you a mildly amused look. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off by a loud group of co-eds who just walked in the door. You turn to look. One is draped in a pink "It's my birthday!" sash. This does not bode well.

"Let's go back to mine. I've restocked," you offer, but Five shakes his head. You wait for him to share a reason or even pick up the sentence he didn't get out, but he doesn't, instead taking another sip of his subpar brandy.

You wish that you had your own drink in front of you, shooting a look at the bartender who looks to be making about four drinks at once. The knot inside of you has come back, growing even tighter as the silence extends. Silence has never been uncomfortable with Five before.

You attribute this largely to the fact that up until this point you've always been so careful about following the rules of engagement, as it were. And while you don't know for sure, it feels like you're guilty of a breach of contract. You wish you could remember what you said, but you can hardly even remember what you did. It's all a blur.

You know he came over, you announced your ex's engagement, and then he tucked you into bed and made sure you had coffee the next morning.

There had to have been more to that night than just that, though. Because emotions and caretaking--that wasn't part of the deal.

Then again, neither was going out to bars.

The  bartender placed your gin in front of you and gratefully you took a long drink from it. You could feel Five's eyes on you as you lowered the glass back down.

"That kind of day?" he asked.

You returned your attention to him. "That kind of week," you corrected. He nodded and toasted you with his own glass before the both of you drank.

You tapped your finger lightly against the side of your gin, the alcohol had yet to take hold but you could feel the warming sensation flowing through you. It was enough of a comfort to know that soon the nerves that had been humming beneath your skin all week would be quiet. "So, why are we here?" The words slipped past your lips, earning a raised eyebrow from Five.

"I told you, I wanted to check this place out."

"That's it?" Your finger still beat steadily against the side of your glass.

You could see the awareness dawn on Five, a sly smile twisting at his lips. "I can't just want your company?"

Your heart skipped a beat. Or maybe it was three. And although the alcohol was supposed to have you pleasantly numb, instead you felt like you were on fire. "I would have thought you had enough of my company after last week."

Realization reached his eyes this time as he shook his head at you. "No," he said, angling his body more towards yours. "I haven't had enough."

The two of you are in the bathroom two hours later.

As far as bar bathrooms go, it's surprisingly clean and roomy. The second part is probably due to the fact the owners had opted for a single use closet style bathroom as opposed to anything remotely functional for the size of the crowd this place has drawn in with it's mediocre music and watered down drinks.

It's not the worst place to have sex, but if you were in your right mind you probably would have insisted that Five pop you back to your place instead. But the consecutive drinks and Five's hand trailing up your thigh had been so intoxicating, you didn't even protest when he took your hand in his and dragged you in here to push you up against the sink.

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, his hands keeping your dress bunched up at your waist. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he moves your panties to the side, pressing a finger into you. "Five," you mumble, a moan escaping you as he curls his finger.

"Louder," Five commands, his lips grazing against your neck, moving down to trail love bites along your collarbone. He pushes into you again, and his name falls from your lips again, this time at a normal volume.

"Louder," Five urges, kissing under your jaw, as you fist the back of his shirt in your hands. Your entire body feels like a taut string, and he's just getting started. You know this has to be quick, there's probably going to be a line outside, but the way his fingers are moving has effectively killed all thoughts outside of the fact that you haven't lost him. He's still, in some small way, yours.

"Five, please," you plead, and you're not quite sure what you're pleading for--release or more of him.

"Fuck," he swears, withdrawing from you and spinning you around, so you have both hands on either side of the sink, your ass exposed to him. He leans in close, and you can feel the length of his entire body against your back.  "I love it when you beg." His whisper is hot in your ear, and a needy gasp leaves you. Dirty talk isn't part of the usual routine, and you didn't expect it to have such an effect.

He withdraws, his fingers tucking into the sides of your underwear and dragging them down to your knees. Behind you, you hear his buckle clink as he frees himself from his pants. It's a second more of anticipation before his hands find your hips, and he slowly enters you, allowing you to feel each inch of him. His fingers dig into your hips as a groan leaves him. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you promise yourself that you'll remember this moment and that sound forever.

Five continues to move at a sensual pace, and your eyes flick up to the mirror, taking in his face. His eyes meet yours in the mirror, and an intense but unidentifiable feeling builds in you. And then his hips unexpectedly snap into yours, earning him a loud moan.

It also seems to earn a knock at the door.

"Alright guys, wrap it up. Other people need to use the bathroom," a gruff voice says on the other side of the door.

It might have been a bit of a mood killer if it weren't for the fact that Five repeats the motion, leaving you gasping. He pulls you up close to him, one hand on your hip and the other toying with your breast. "Can't leave them waiting," he grunts, and your head lolls back onto his shoulder. Despite the fact that it's been shorter than the vast majority of your sessions together, you're more of a needy mess then you've ever been. Maybe it's the combination of the alcohol and publicness and the sounds coming from Five, but whatever it is, it's not long before you're cumming, and not long after, he is too.

There's now pounding at the door.

"Come on, you guys gotta get out. Let's go."

Five smirks at you from where he's pulling his pants back up--or at least, if he was anyone else you'd call it a smirk. It's softer than usual though--although it's still not quite a smile. Like you're in on the joke with him. It makes your heart beat a little faster, and you're just able to stop yourself from a full blown smile, the corners of your mouth turning down in an attempt to seem cool as usual. He gestures with his head towards the door, and after checking yourself in the mirror and making yourself seem slightly more presentable, you follow him out, keeping your eyes trained on the floor so you don't have to look at the bouncer or line of people waiting by the door.

Unfortunately, the bouncer seems to have other plans.

"Y/N?"

You know that voice. Without the door between you and the fake gruffness, it's clear as day, and it feels a bit like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. You feel painfully sober.

Your eyes widen, and you turn to see your ex dressed in the black t-shirt and jeans, looking just as shocked to see you.

"Oh my God," you mumble.

"Uh--" he says, pointing to the door, and you make your way towards it, Five still next to you, and your ex following up behind you. You stop just beside the door, across from where another bouncer is checking IDs.

"Sorry, I--you can't stay." He does seem genuinely apologetic, and you're not sure if it's just the awkwardness of the whole situation or if he really feels bad.

"No, no. I get it," you shake your head. Five's hand drifts to the small of your back, and your previously blank mind remembers that oh yeah--he's here too. This is the worst moment of your life. "Oh, this is, um, Five. Five, this is Jordan. We...we used to date." That seems like a wildly simplistic introduction for both of them, but you're still reeling.

"Five? Like the kid from The Umbrella Academy?"

Five's smile is so fake you wouldn't be surprised if Jordan could also sense the thinly veiled animosity. "The very same," Five says, holding out his hand and shaking Jordan's. His arm returns around you.

Jordan looks like he's a mixture of confused and impressed, and before this situation can get any worse, you open your mouth and start saying words, hoping they come out in order and make sense.

"I didn't know you work here."

Jordan's eyes linger on Five for a second more before meeting yours. "Yeah, I had to pick up another job...I'm getting married."

"Oh, congratulations." you say less than earnestly, pushing hair behind your ear. Emotion swirls in your chest, pressure building to react--to sob, to scream, to sink into the ground. Anything but stand here.

"Well," Five says, coming to your rescue. "I should take her home." You look up at him, and there's a ghost of smugness on his face. If you hadn't studied him for so long, you might have missed the look, but it's there.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Jordan nods, stepping back towards the bar. "It was good to see you, Y/N."

It's a lie. But he's not the only liar here. "You too," you say nodding. "Good luck with the wedding."

"Thanks," he nods again like a bobblehead, and you turn and head out the door quickly with Five.

The two of you walk down the sidewalk and towards the parking garage in silence. It's not until you're passing rows of cars that Five speaks.  "Did you drive?"

You shake your head, your thoughts still on the way Five had handled that situation. You have a terrible feeling.

It's unspoken that Five will give you a ride home, so you don't bother to ask for a ride. Instead, you save up your question, waiting until the two of you are stopped at a red light, halfway home to ask.

"Did you know he worked there?"

The corner of Five's mouth turns up. "Might have been a thing I heard about that place."

You have more questions, but you don't want to ask them. That one was enough to shatter the illusion you'd been creating all night.

That he had brought you out because he wanted your company.

That he might return a hint of the feelings you had for him.

That this was something other than what it was.

Read the final part

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 15

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 15

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3310

Summary: The reader and Sam take an irrevocable step forward.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w  b u r n, this section is emotional smut

           The drive home felt electric and giddy and nauseatingly tense, like driving back from prom with a little foil packet burning a hole in your pocket. It had been delicious agony working through the rest of the shift on stolen hand grazes and smirks across the length of the bar, suspense winding in your throat, especially wearing Sam’s shirt, the incredible scent of him floating around you in a halo every time you moved. Now that it was so close you didn’t know what to do with it. At the very least, Sam didn’t seem to either as you noticed him swallowing far more often than he needed to and cranking the stereo. He drove fast, almost like—no, don’t think that, not right now—and you watched for deer on the sides of the road partly to keep from getting into an accident and partly for something to distract even a fraction of your mind from the way Sam’s lips had felt on yours when he had finally let go, how they must feel everywhere else.

           When he pulled into the driveway, you both sat still in the front seat for a beat of silence.

           “I’m—uh, I’m going to take a shower,” Sam said, looking toward your side of the car but not quite meeting your eyes.

           “Yeah, okay, good idea,” you answered. You were still sticky with the broken-keg-beer from hours ago and a shower sounded divine, but you knew saying something about getting cleaned up too wouldn’t land right in the charge of this moment. The two of you awkwardly walked inside, a movement you’d done so many times that suddenly felt so unfamiliar it was a little spooky. Sam ducked into the shower without another word and you didn’t know what to do in your own house.

           Digging through your clothes, you finally found a matching bra and panty set you hadn’t worn in…you stopped yourself from thinking about exactly how long. It was black and lacy but in a sort of sensible way; probably wouldn’t have been fancy for a person who didn’t usually buy her undergarments with durability and lack of movement while running and fighting in mind, but it was what you had and it certainly seemed like a more appropriate thing to wear than one of the old t-shirts of Dean’s you normally changed into after work. You bit your lip and beat back a moment of frustrated nerves, imagining the extremely awkward put-on seduction of walking through the cabin in just the set, and grabbed a black tank top and yoga pants out too, bundling all the garments together.

           Sam walked into the bedroom with a towel slung sinfully low on his hips, and the sight made your breath catch in your throat. The tension required to hold the terry in place flexed one pec as a few droplets of water shook loose from his hair and slid down it.

           You grabbed the bundle of clothes in your hand and gestured behind him. “My turn.”

           Sam nodded, side stepping to let you out of the doorway.

           It was a longer shower than you’d taken in a long time, going over your legs obsessively with the dullish disposable razor you’d been using and washing your hair twice to make sure to get any residual beer out of it. Finally you knew you couldn’t keep stalling and got out, running a palm of lotion over your body and putting on the black set, yoga pants, and tank top. You turned your head over to flip your hair a few times, hoping for a little more volume and a little less wet rat, and wished that you’d had some kind of perfume or something, had held onto anything from back when you thought things like that had a point, when you cared about being enticing. How glamorous, all this old cotton and dripping hair for what felt like a monumental turning point. No time to think about that now. You threw your towel up on the rack and headed back to the bedroom.

           Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his ankles, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, bare feet tapping on the floor. Something about knowing that he had gotten re-dressed and not even in the old sweats he normally slept in, had thought about it for at least a moment, made you feel better. His head snapped up when you walked in. “H-hey,” he breathed.

           “Hey.” You noticed he’d straightened the already made up bed and taken the pictures of Dean off the wall, neatly stacked on the dresser in the corner of the room.

           When Sam saw your eyes linger on the spot they had been, he opened his mouth. A small shake of your head stopped him from saying anything and you sat beside him. “So.”

           Sam chuckled. “So.”

           “I feel like we just got shut in a closet to play 7 minutes in heaven.”

           “I know I said I’m ready but we don’t have to—”

           “No, that’s not what I mean. Sorry, I just—I haven’t felt this nervous in a long time.”

           “Me neither.”

           You flopped back on the bed, feeling your wet hair fan out a touch around you and looking up at the ceiling. The mattress shifted under Sam’s weight when he laid back next to you, and after a beat you turned to your side, propping up your head on one palm and feeling the oppressive sparks of the moment burn into your skin, heat your cheeks. “There are so many times I could’ve said this, Sam, but you saved my life. I don’t kn—there’s just no way I would’ve made it by myself.”

           He dipped his head toward you, the low light casting a severe shadow off of his jaw and highlighting the contrast between the concentric rings of green-blue-honey in his eyes. “I could say the same to you.” You waited a second, dragging your eyes down the high slope of his cheekbone and counting the tiny dots of stubble where its gradient began on his cheek.

           Slowly, you tipped yourself over him, looping one leg over his waist and placing a hand above each of his shoulders on the mattress. Feeling the heat of his body between your thighs made you feel a bit lightheaded and the way Sam was looking up at you didn’t help, eyes bright and hopeful and a touch awestruck like a true believer listening to a sermon. Big hands floated to your hips, light as anything but each fingertip was rooting you together, connecting you as irrevocably as welded iron. You poured forward into him, stopping a few inches from his face. “I’m—” you started.

           “I love you,” Sam stammered, looking almost surprised when it tumbled out of his mouth, but you caught it between you and breathed it back into him, catching his lips and holding back the groan you wanted to release at their softness, somehow even better than the memory you’d been amplifying in your head all night. You kissed him like a prayer, like saying thank you over and over again for the things he knew you wanted to acknowledge and for all the things he didn’t, every single dried teardrop and gummy worm a pass of your lips against his. One hand moved to your lower back, pressing you together while the other spun through the wet hair at the nape of your neck, thumb cradling the sensitive skin behind your ear and brushing softly back from it, a tiny affection you might not have noticed if everything about this moment wasn’t so amplified.

           When you nipped gently at his lower lip, Sam made a sound close to a whimper deep in his throat before slipping his tongue against yours and drinking you in. He shifted his hips underneath you and used the hands on your back to guide you easily to the mattress, taking care not to place you on top of your hair. You wound your fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him closer to you until you were pressed against the full firm stretch of his torso. As you passed your fingers under the hem, Sam leaned back for a second to tug behind his collar and toss the shirt to the ground in one fluid motion, coming back to lay a trail of kisses down the hinge of your jaw and neck, light suction on the exact spot it sloped into collarbone. It was your turn to get out of your tank top; the moment of widened pupils at the reveal dissolved the nerves you’d had about the lace and gave you the confidence to hook your legs around Sam’s hips and drag him as tightly to you as his jeans would allow.

           He slipped tentative fingertips into the waistband of the yoga pants and you parted to let him shimmy them off of your legs, surprised when a tear almost welled in your eyes at the kiss he pressed into the side of your calf—an impulsive reflex betraying Sam’s affection. You sat up, tried to unbutton the worn cotton of his jeans, and realized your hands were shaking. He took your face delicately in his hands and kissed you, soft as anything, and it was Sam, person you knew best in this world, who’d saved your life over and over and over again; if you couldn’t trust him, then who could you trust? The moment was enough to settle you, button coming undone smoothly. He eased off the bed without breaking contact with your lips to shake them off, tipping you onto the mattress delicately when his legs were bare. Arching your back to unhook your bra, you shucked it off carelessly into the depth of the room. Sam raked his eyes over your body and you tried not to shy away from it. “I—uh—are we going to be okay?” he whispered low into the space between you.

           “I think so,” you answered, and it was as much affirmation as you could give, because truthfully you didn’t know. It felt right but your instincts had been wrong before. You wished more than anything that you could’ve kept the sexually charged impulsivity in the bar’s cooler earlier that night, when you were moving on instinct and need and didn’t have time to analyze.

           But Sam was so beautiful, so present and real, almost too warm under your touch, and you reminded yourself that he was the only real thing in your life. He brushed a stray piece of still-damp hair back from your face before bending to his knees on the side of the bed. You got up to your elbows and watched passively as he took the rest of your lace off, leaving you completely exposed save for the cover of his kiss on your inner thigh. Swallowing hard, you felt your lips part as you watched the long muscles of his back pull taut when he moved you to the edge of the bed. The hot breath between your legs was enough to make you see stars around Sam’s head like a halo and then he swirled his tongue around your clit softly, almost too softly, just enough to make you feel hungry with desire. A whine passed your lips and you barely even registered it, so focused on watching the precise even muscles in Sam’s jaw flex and ripple against his cheek, matching them to the mazes he was drawing into you. Wrapping an arm around your thigh to hold you in place, Sam flicked his gaze up for confirmation as he snaked an arm under you, sucking two fingers with his eyes locked on yours before gliding them inside you.

           You gasped creakily as he hook-pressed, the strength of his hands feeling familiar if the feeling wasn’t, tugging out sweet sin rooted deep in your gut. It wound you into a tight coil ready to crack with tensile strength, cables of a centuries old suspension bridge rattling through every muscle in your body. With your back arching into the mattress, Sam lapped and swirled and spoke tongues into you, sturdy latch on your thigh until it was absolutely too much, sent you snapping into a thousand sparking live wires around him as you tried to steady yourself with handfuls of duvet. When you had enough of your wits back about you, you slipped your hands through the drying silk of Sam’s hair and guided him back up, kissing the taste of yourself off of his lips, his chin. Sam laid against you unfurling his body like a scroll, the heavy length of his cock grazing your thigh through his boxers. You gently push-pulled his shoulders to flip him onto on his back, a dazed smile on his face when you licked a stripe down his chest and lightly ran your teeth over a nipple. His chest heaved once when you brushed against his cock and then his breathing went shallow. With your mouth centimeters from his skin, you met his eyes. “Is this still okay?”

           “Y-yeah, yes—yeah,” he said, way too fast to pretend at any semblance of nonchalance, more than fast enough to send you grinning as you tugged the elastic down his hips slowly and caught the weight of him in your palm, hot and crystallized beneath a shimmering drop of precum that you lapped reflexively, drawing a sharp inhale from Sam. Now it was your turn to swirl, rolling the head around your tongue sloppily before taking the first few inches of him into your mouth and sucking against a spinning hand until you built a rhythm. His head rolled back into the bed and he closed his eyes, letting them fly open only when you eased the full length of his cock into your throat slowly, willing your muscles to relax around him and relishing the fuzzy blown-out look in his eyes. You let the withdrawal drag, slipping frictionlessly over his now dripping cock as spit flowed through the gaps between your fingers. Sucking along the underside before taking him down again, you could feel the muscles in his abdomen starting to tense and pulled off, kissing a hip bone before straddling Sam and guiding him inside you carefully.

           To his constant credit—as though there was anything you wouldn’t give him credit for—Sam held perfectly still as you stretched around him. It had been so long, and he probably would’ve been a challenge even if it hadn’t been years since these muscles had been flexed. The knowledge that it would calm down pushed you through the almost-tearing feeling you had, finally resting an inch or two above being flush together and taking a few deep breaths.

           “Are you okay?” Sam asked, cheeks pink and eyebrows showing his concern even as the tendons in his neck flexed with restraint.

           “Yeah, I just—out of practice,” you answered with a sheepish smirk. He traced down the sides of your thighs with velvet fingertips like a metronome until your body relaxed around him and you began to slide and grind against Sam in earnest.

           He half-raised himself to meet your lips, curving you down so he could kiss you as you moved together. For the second time that night, he took you in his arms and turned you onto the bed, deftly switching your positions without disconnecting from you. His hand still cradled your head protectively while he touched his forehead to yours. Twin exhales mixing in the slowly humidifying air between you, there were so many things you wanted to say but none of the words you could think of felt like enough to encompass the comfort-love-grief-thanks-apology. All you could do was kiss him.

           The two of you fit together exactly and you cupped the back of Sam’s neck as he rocked into you. Weight supported on one hand, he swept a thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down, touching his lips to your forehead, and taking a deep breath of your hair. Such a clear punctuation on his tenderness swelled up hard in your throat and you had to gulp hard to settle it, concentrating instead on the heat pooling in your core through Sam’s deliberate movements. The crescendo reached a fever pitch when he slid a hand to the small of your back and tilted your hips justrightjustlikethat, pressure drilling right into that perfect spot and after a few seconds it was all you could do to throw your head back into the mattress and crack in half.

           Sam sucked at your jugular while you fell to pieces and in other circumstances you might’ve been worried about walking around like a teenager with a hickey, but all you could think of was him around you, inside you, on you, and you wanted as much as you could get. Tugging at his hair and latching your legs around his hips in frantic reflex shoved him over the edge, muscles in his back rippling under your other hand and sweat glistening over the expanse of his neck as it rolled back. He eased off of you, laid down beside you, and wrapped you up in his arms.

           A few hot tears dropped to the bedspread and almost surprised you but didn’t seem to phase Sam, who just tightened his embrace so your cheek rested on the slope of his chest. Time stopped as you lay there, having disappeared between the fissures of reality and straight into Sam. You resisted the impulse to think too much. It was enough to be there, feel the mist of sweat and freshly washed hair cooling into the ether, the comforting heat of Sam’s body where he draped over you. After your muscles resolidified you turned up and kissed him once, more to check in than anything else.

           “So…what now?” you asked, voice sounding muffled and weird after the long silence.

           Sam smiled looking fatigued and content and nervous all at the same time. “Well, we haven’t been struck down yet. Are you tired?”

           It was likely close to 4 or 5 in the morning but sleeping felt like a trap—with all the information you’d gathered about the dreams, it seemed like if you didn’t have one about Dean tonight then you’d both severely misjudged what was happening, which then put the legitimacy or ‘blessing’ of this new relationship with Sam in jeopardy. But it wasn’t like you could stay up forever. And maybe everything would be fine, maybe you could still have your cake and eat it too by staying with Dean at night and carrying on during the days with Sam, holding his hand and starting to see beauty again through its reflection on his face.

           You brushed your teeth in the bathroom mirror together after throwing on the first t-shirt you found, trying not to put too much stock into it when it ended up being Dean’s Poison one with the tear on the left shoulder. It felt right, natural still to be sharing even this little space with Sam, and that had to mean something. He didn’t even look twice at the shirt but was only wearing boxers, having foregone the flannel pants and/or t shirt he normally wore to bed. You weren’t complaining.

           Cuddling up next to Sam didn’t feel odd as it probably should have so long ago. The only differences were the interlacing of his fingers into yours as he covered your lower ribcage with his hand and the way he tucked his chin into your neck as he folded around you. “I—Sam?” you whispered.

           “Mm?”

           “I’m—uh, just. Thank you.”

           Sam didn’t react for a beat, considering or waiting for you to continue you didn’t know. He simply pressed his lips to your stretched-out collar and melted so that his body sunk into yours. It didn’t take you as long as you might’ve thought to fall asleep.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 16

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[jujutsubabe]

Similar Undertones

Itadori x reader

Word count: 3.2k

Song recommendation: Take me where your heart is-Q

Synopsis: Itadori and you go on your first car date together and he is freaking out.

Megumi and Nobara were going to absolutely lose it within the next three seconds. There was nothing new being talked about as Itadori repeated the same question in ten different ways.

“If this is our first car ride together do we hold hands while I drive? Or Is that too forward?”

“Wait, do you think it’s sexist if I want to drive? I kinda don’t want her to drive, it’s pretty late... wait— not saying she can’t do it! Women are strong! It’s just— is it rude to drive her?”

“Should I make a playlist of her favorite songs...? I’ve been saving them.”

Nobara and Megumi stared at the dork sitting in front of them. His questions didn’t have any more depth than this, you had a chaotic effect on this guy. The boy who never thinks before acting, is actually thinking. All it took was a quick “I’m hungry, can we go to McDonald’s?” from you to put him into absolute shock.

It should have been a casual answer, like “yeah I’ll get you now.” But no, the poor boy only officially asked you out a week ago after months and months of crushing on you. So he needed a full hour to mentally prepare himself enough to not ruin this moment with you.

“Itadori you’re giving me chills.” Nobara rubbed her arms. “Why can’t you two be normal?”

“Don’t put me in the same category as him.” Megumi rubbed his face. “Itadori why can’t you ask her what she wants?”

Itadori sunk into his bed, throwing his arms around wildly. “Are you kidding? If I asked her all that she would think I’m crazy.”

“She doesn’t know that already?” Megumi asked and Nobara cackled beside him.

Itadori whined into his pillow kicking his legs. “I don’t wanna mess this up, this is my first real girlfriend and if we broke up...”

If you looked at him with disgust before making up some random excuse to leave? If you started avoiding him in the city as he passed you by? if you went on with your lives not knowing each other anymore and then years later going to your wedding as a guest? Somehow getting the task of being a godfather and babysitting your kids for the rest of his life? Then becoming a school janitor and accidentally drowning in one of the toilets?

He could imagine it all now, you standing at his casket, sighing, “If only he let me drive instead...”

He screamed into the pillow. He couldn’t stop the inflow of the thoughts, each scenario more stressful than the last. He hated how much he worried over such trivial things.

Nobara pat his back, “Okay, yeah we get it. Calm down.”

The two looked between each other and their friend. It was difficult dealing with him in this state, they had to be extra careful with what they said. He usually comforted them, but when the roles were reversed it caught them a little bit off guard.

Megumi sighed, “I don’t think she would care about those things. She seems like a good person.”

Itadori only grunted.

“Seriously though. You two have known each other forever.” Nobara poked his sides. “At this point, anything you did now couldn’t make her run away.”

He thought about it. You did stay through a lot, you stayed during that whole finger swallowing incident. And that time he died for a little bit. Also the time he laughed so hard milk came out of his nose. (He found that one to be the most traumatizing.)

If you can stay with someone through all of that, then maybe, possibly, you wouldn’t mind staying if he was a little nervous on your ride together. If his hands were a little more sweaty than usual maybe you would giggle a bit and hold them anyways.

Maybe, there was nothing to worry about, and in the end the both of you would have a fun time. He thought too much of what would happen, he needed to relax.

With a long inhale, he rose from the pillow. Nobara clapped as he got up, “There we go, you’ve got it Itadori.”

“This will be a good date.” He reassured himself.

“It will be! That’s the spirit.” Nobara said.

“We’re going to hold hands and I’m not going to mess this up!” He stood from his bed. “I’ll make sure she’s comfortable and goes home telling her friends what a good boyfriend I am.”

“Fushiguro play the motivation playlist! We need to get him an outfit.” Nobara threw her phone to him as she headed to Itadori’s closet.

Megumi sighed, he really hoped this date went well enough for him to never ask for help again because...

He watched Nobara throw shirts to one side while Itadori rummaged through his half empty sock drawer asking Megumi if he had matching socks he could borrow instead.

...He genuinely couldn’t go through this again.

Itadori popped in his fifth stick of mint gum as he checked his reflection. He looked out the window every few seconds before fixing up his appearance. As he looked at himself, he realized maybe he did too much...

He remembered Nobara pulling out a full suit, “This will be good. Girls love it when a guy dresses up.”

“That looks like too much. We’re getting fast food.”

She shook her head, pushing him into the closet, “Trust me, she will be so disappointed if you dress up casual.”

“I’ve never heard of that! Never! Megumi this is ridiculous isn’t it?”

Little did they know, Megumi left as soon as they turned their backs, right now he was back in his dorm reading a nice book under his comfortable covers. There was no way the two could bring him back into the room now. While he was going through his nightly routine, these two were preparing for war.

“Just try it on, if it’s bad you can change...” Nobara checked the time, “Hey what time are you supposed to get her?”

“Uh,” he squirmed into his pants, “like eight.”

“Huh... Like thirty minutes ago eight?”

The closet door snapped open as he stumbled out, “What? Where’s my phone?”

He groaned when Nobara shrugged, he looked through the large heap of clothes on the floor, then opened all the dresser’s drawers before grabbing it from the sock one.

It was already half past eight like she said, he scrolled through a few missed calls from you and frowned. He never missed more than one call from you, you probably thought he was dead (again) at this point.

He would definitely be losing points for that. He would be lucky if you didn’t text your friends about what a horrible date he was being. First he was late and then he showed up in a suit? He would never live that down.

He did a quick little debate as he stared at himself in the mirror, he was way too dressed up for this little encounter. He had no time to change though, so instead of comfy shorts, he accepted his fate to be the awkward guy who dresses up way too much for something that’s supposed to be way more casual.

It’s like those kids who dress in suits at public schools, it’s out of place and everyone scratches their head wondering if they went to the wrong event.

He shook his head, with no more time to dwell on it, he grabbed his keys. Before he left though he pointed a finger through the door, “Later, we will argue about this later.”

Nobara laughed as he hurried out the door. “Tell me how it goes after!”

Itadori shook his head, still not really over the past events. Fixing his cuff he glanced out the window once more before catching sight of you. He took a deep breath before getting out his car.

“Hey!” He waved out to you as you squinted from your door. The closer you got the more confused you looked.

“Shoot, we’re we going somewhere fancy?” You looked over your oversized shirt and sweat pants. “I thought we were getting fast food.”

He was jealous of your comfort wear. Any other day he would be jumping in joy over how cute you looked in house clothes, but right now he craved some of his own.

Itadori thought about those moments in typical romance movies where the girl steals the guy’s sleepwear. The guy gets all flustered because she’s wearing his clothes and looks so comfortable, the girl is happy because she gets out of her uncomfortable dress clothes and finally gets to relax. It’s a bonding moment between the two.

He wished he could be the girl in that situation right now.

He scratched his neck. “No, we are. My friend just bullied me into wearing a suit...”

You laughed, “Really? Was that why you ran late?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he winced, “I lost track of time. I really was going to wear something normal.”

Your eyes darted over him before you pursed your lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before.” You picked at dust on his shoulder, “It’s a little out of place but it’s cute.”

He hung his mouth as if you kicked the breath out of him. You said that with so much ease, you two have known each other for so long but he’s never seen you be this much of a flirt. He felt like a firefly was lighting him up from inside out, blinking on and off as he stared at you unable to move.

We’re these the benefits of being in a relationship? Random touches and compliments that could make any worrying heart swoon instead? It was his first time dating his crush so every little thing you said or did made him bounce off the walls.

He wanted to cherish the moment with you touching his shoulder and calling him cute for a moment longer. You somehow made him forget every single worry that welled up in his chest.

He wondered if he made you feel this way as well.

Itadori is a cute driver. The two of you keep a good conversation, but when he makes a turn he goes quiet. He also goes quiet when someone crosses the street, sometimes he talks to the drivers in front of him even though they can’t hear him.

Little sayings like, “You can go.” “You don’t have to run across, I can wait.”

He fumbles with the radio station until you wave his hand off and change it yourself. You can tell it takes a weight off his shoulders, he looks content whenever you switch it.

He drives with both hands too. At every stop light he taps his fingers on the wheel, glancing at yours every once in a while. You never know what to do, debating on whether or not he's trying to hold your hand. You didn’t want to come off as being too forward by grabbing his hand, but also didn’t want him to initiate everything for your little date.

You hadn’t been in a car alone with him before, you didn’t know the rules about romance in the car. If you made a wrong move you two would have to sit in silence until he dropped you off, or worse until he kicked you out the car.

You could imagine it all now, you go to grab his hand and he pulls it away. “Isn’t that a little too early? I don’t think we’re that close yet...” and then he turns up the music to ignore the tension.

Then you pass each other in the streets, then he dates someone completely different and you see them together all the time, then you become a realtor sell a house to him and his new wife, constantly wishing you could have been the one moving in with him, then you are living in his basement without his knowledge, eating sardines before dying under his house.

Itadori would shake his head at your funeral, “If only she never held my hand...”

You internally screamed. You couldn’t mess this up. He was so different from any other person you’ve met, you didn’t want to be too fast with this. You liked him since the first day you met, it would pain you to see all those months of friendship and growth go down the drain by being a tad too forward.

You couldn’t bear going back to the friend stage again, though fun at that period of time, you were in too deep to go back. The idea alone gave you chills, that would mean no more cute little touches or flirty gestures, just awkward waves when you passed by.

You fiddled with your fingers, glancing at his. The thought alone gave you butterflies, the two of you holding hands in a car at night screamed aesthetic Pinterest board. Your hand craved to feel whatever those Internet couples felt.

Your chest tightened a bit when the drive thru came into view and he asked for your order. It was like a reality check, the little drive filled with mindless chatter and laughs would be ending soon, with neither of you making a move.

You bit your cheek as he pulled up to the cashier window, time started to dwindle. You wondered why he couldn’t make a move first. His chances of rejection were in the negatives.

If he held his hand out you would hold it, you didn’t care if any of the employees witnessed such a display of PDA. You didn’t care where he held it, you didn’t care if it suddenly turned green… well you would be concerned about that… but there is nothing more romantic than holding hands in the middle of the night with someone you are infatuated with.

...In the McDonald’s drive thru.

He pulled to the next window and talked about something for a while before he interrupted your racing mind, “You okay?”

You popped out of your thoughts, about to pull an excuse from the top of your head but when you turned to him you didn’t expect to see his hand. Your eyes went wide as you saw his palm open and his expression soft and heartfelt.

It was like a small explosion of color went off in your brain. Like confetti rained in your mind and every single wish you’ve ever had suddenly became true in this very instant.

Itadori is actually offering his hand to you. Maybe you were imagining this and he wasn’t real, but even if he wasn’t, why not take the hand of this apparition?

So with the widest smile and biggest set of heart eyes, you fit your hand into his like a slot piece. His hands were warm like food out the oven, or fresh laundry, or a ray of sun washing over you. They were a little sweaty, but it was cute, everything about this moment was exactly how you dreamed about it. You could feel your heart settle itself down.

Until, Itadori cleared his throat, “I was asking if you could hand me the money from there...” he pointed to the glove compartment.

Your face dropped when you saw the cashier standing at the window scratching his head and Itadori still pointing at that cursed glove compartment. This was something right out of a horrible coming of age movie, you couldn’t believe this was real.

“Oh!” You slipped your hand out, snatching whatever amount from the compartment box and handing it to him. “I’m so sorry, that’s so embarrassing.��

No, no embarrassing was an understatement. You more so felt like a ball got kicked in your face on live television. You didn’t know if you could ever recover from this, you wondered if you should change your name and move across the country now or later.

While you were deciding on a new name, you were thrown off, when he cocked his head instead of agreeing, “Why? I was going to hold it anyway.”

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!?

“You were?”

He nodded, “I was nervous I might freak you out but—“

“I felt the same way!” You interjected, “I thought I would make you uncomfortable.”

You didn’t expect him to be as nervous as you were, the both of you seemed to get onto a mutual plane of understanding. You both said what the other person thought, peeling off that initial layer of worry like an orange.

To think someone as confident ltadori would be nervous. You were used to him doing things without thinking and going in with full confidence this threw you off guard. You were seeing a different side of him you weren’t used to.

“Don’t worry, you can’t make it uncomfortable. I'm fine with whatever!”

“Me too, if you want to hold hands we can.” You bit down on your cheek, a loud buzzing coursing through your arms.

Itadori grinned back at you so hard, the both of you in this little bubble. Maybe this night wouldn’t be as bad as you imagined. You might be able to keep this date in your mental memory, looking back at it whenever you wanted to smile.

The cashier cleared his throat, still standing there, the both of you jumped before looking, “You’re holding up the line.” He pointed to the money in Itadori’s hand.

“Right sorry!”

You laughed as he scrambled with the money. The both of you turning to each other and giggling when he finally left the drive thru. You sorted through the food while he found a place to park. (to which you mentally squealed, you two could now spend a little more time together)

Your conversation now had an interesting topic as you both discussed how nervous you were beforehand, then talked about the pace you wanted the relationship to go in, then your days, then the weather, and then it went quiet.

You were cleaning up, wiping away the salt from your fingers and crumpling up trash. Doing minor things like adjusting the air and checking your face for crumbs in the mirror.

Maybe he shouldn’t be looking at you with so much intensity, but he couldn’t help it. His glances were quick and out of the corner of his eye at first, but after some time he completely forgot to keep the looking secret and started staring at you.

You weren’t even noticing. You were in your own little world, thinking about a catchy little tune you heard over the radio while you cleaned your nails.

It was all so simple, but he couldn’t help his eyes from noticing every little thing you did. He didn’t understand why his heart thrummed so fast when you pursed your lips or drummed your fingers onto your lap. Tiny itty bitty things he didn’t pay attention to earlier were so eye catching for some reason.

You had such a content look on your face, it physically pained him. He could feel the weight of his heart, the buzz in his fingers, he wanted to know if you felt the same. If you felt there was no one else who could fill up this place in your chest. Like no matter where you were, each moment was perfect as long as this feeling stayed.

He couldn’t help but intertwine your hand with his. You smiled up at him and he wondered if he was allowed to have this. Your hand or this moment, he didn’t know if he deserved it, yet he couldn’t help but take it. It would be wrong not to.

He squeezed your palm to his, maybe you could see the sparks behind his eyes as he did so. He hoped if he looked close enough, you would share the same sparks behind your eyes as well.

[winterscaptain]

faith.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

a/n: we start to heal, kids! if there’s interest, i’ll write up the outtakes (wink wink) from this and post it sometime soon. your feedback keeps me going - please tell me what you think! also, if you haven’t already check out the inspo blog for ajf! (here’s the nsfw one, too - but it's definitely 18+ only!)

reality check (part one) | unimaginable (part two)

words: 3.5k warnings: implied sex, language, miscarriage/pregnancy mention

summary: healing is bittersweet.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed!

“Everything looks fine down here. Since it’s been about four days, your preliminary recovery is finished. The key now is to let your body rest and reset.” Brienne removes her gloves and tosses them in the trash. “You can try again in six weeks, if you want, but no penetrative sex for two full weeks.” She washes her hands and points at you, then Aaron, with wet hands. “I mean it.” 

You share a look with Aaron while Brienne turns around for paper towels. His lips quirk into a wry, almost sheepish, smile.

Turning back to her, you ask, “Is there anything I should look out for or do differently or anything?”

Please tell me there’s something I can control. 

She shakes her head. “You’re doing everything perfectly. Keep an eye out for any heavy bleeding or anything that doesn't feel quite right in the next couple of weeks.” A warm hand lands on your shoulder and another reaches across you for Aaron, who stands and meets her in the middle, capturing her fingers in his palm. “I have faith in you both. I know this one was a little unexpected on all fronts, but if you want to do this for real, I will make sure I’m doing everything in my power to give you all the support and resources I can.” 

Aaron’s brown eyes are soft and grateful under his knit brow. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it.” 

She snorts and squeezes his hand before letting him go. “Oh, Aaron. I have a feeling you and I will know each other for a long time - Brienne is just fine.”

+++

Aaron slides into bed beside you and wraps you up in his arms. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You lace your fingers between his where his hand rests across your abdomen. “How’re you doin’?”

“I should ask you the same thing.” 

You turn in his arms, and he gathers you to his chest while you throw one leg over his hip and wiggle the other between his thighs. You just want to be as close as possible to soothe the ache in your chest - it’s working. “I’m okay. My bits have stopped screaming at me, so that’s an improvement.” For now, you ignore the fact that he’s avoided your question. Sometimes it's easier to let Aaron think he’s won - for a while, at least. 

“Indeed, it is,” he says through a laugh. “I more so meant the other thing.” 

“What, like my emotional state?”

He shrugs around you. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“I feel like there should be...something to look forward to. There’s still a part of me that’s really excited, but there’s nothing to be excited about.” You shake your head, burrowing further into his chest. “It’s hard to explain.” 

His hand rubs up and down your spine, firm and slow. “Makes perfect sense. I think I’m right there with you.” 

It’s quiet for a moment. 

“I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

You can feel him shake his head and he scoots impossibly closer to you. There can’t be a single inch of skin he isn't touching, or at least that’s what it feels like. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. Nothing to be sorry for. Sometimes, things just happen.” 

Your eyes close, exhausted, and you push back the thoughts that have been swirling around in your head for the last three days. 

Yeah, sometimes things just happen. Getting stabbed nine times in your home by a career serial killer? Just happens. Your wife getting murdered by that same serial killer, perhaps? Yeah, that just happens. Or maybe your best friend ‘dying’ and then coming back to life? Sure. 

Maybe a couple massive losses in a couple horrible years just aren’t enough. 

What’s next? 

I’ll take ‘Losing a Kid for 1600, Alex.’

“Hey.” He taps the middle of your back with his hand to get your attention. “I can hear you thinking.” 

You grumble, “Sorry,” and turn over, your back pressed firmly to his chest. 

“We’re okay, sweetheart. We’re fine. Jack is healthy, you’re healthy, I’m healthy. We’re getting married.” You snort, and he laughs. “Alright. We’re getting married...eventually.” That gets a giggle out of you, and he continues. “We’re looking for a house we can actually afford because of our fulfilling and important jobs. We have one fantastic son already.” He kisses your shoulder. “We’re in good shape.”

Well, when he puts it that way…

He pulls you close, nuzzling into your neck and running fingers up your ticklish sides. You squirm and a little peal of laughter leaves you. “I’ve got you on all of those, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes, and you know he saw it in the mirrored closet doors on the wall across from you. “If you think I’m going to argue with the youngest AUSA in District history, you’re nuts.” 

A satisfied hum leaves him, and he slips his hand under your shirt, tracing over your skin. “That’s probably a good idea.” Kisses find their way across your shoulders as his hands hike your shirt farther up your body. 

“Aaron,” you whine. “Brienne said no sex.” 

You watch him deliberate in the mirror, making play at deep thought. “...No. She said no penetrative sex, if my memory serves.” His hands wander down to the edge of your underwear and you squirm against him despite yourself. He drops his lips to the sensitive skin behind your ear, making you shiver when he whispers, “And my memory always serves.”

“Damn you.” 

He grins and ducks under the covers, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he settles between your thighs.

+++

The following Monday is your first day back at work, and it’s more than a little difficult to be normal. Aaron had only taken the day after to make sure he was available to drive you to and from Brienne’s office for your procedure, but you’d taken the rest of the week. You’re not sure what Aaron told them - maybe a flu or a stomach bug or maybe you “just needed some personal time” - but you imagined everyone would ask you about it anyways. 

Aaron presses a kiss to your cheek before the elevator opens. You make sure you’re watching when he falls into Hotch Mode as the doors part before you. It’s difficult to hold back your fond smile, but you manage. 

You set your things down at your desk, noting the small purple orchid and note sitting by your desktop. JJ turns in her chair to face you. “Hey! How was your visit with Dean?” 

Oh. That works. Good one, Aaron.

Dean had moved to New York to start with a new brokerage house at the beginning of last summer, and you’d been meaning to get up there to see him. It’s a highly plausible lie. It also helps that Aaron could sell water to a fish. 

Well, he is a lawyer. 

“It was great. Nice to take some time, you know?” You smile at her and you’re sure it doesn’t look quite right when her eyes narrow just a touch. Settling at your desk, you pick up the note addressed to you and open it. 

A flower for my flower :) I know. I’m gross. Sue me. 

(Or don’t...I’ll use my J.D. if you do.)

I love you. - AH

p.s. Don’t worry - I’ll water it when you're away. 

“Conference room in five minutes - Garcia’s got something for us.” Emily strides past you all on the bridge and you grab your tablet. 

Derek offers you a hand and you take it, tucking yourself under his arm as you walk. “What’s the orchid for?”

You shrug, covering how touched you really are by the gesture. “I dunno. I guess we just have a very thoughtful section chief.” 

+++

Inspired by Aaron’s cover story, you give Dean a call when you make it back to the hotel that night after an exhausting day scouting crime scenes that have every indication of a serial killer running rampant through the tiny Maine township.

“Hey babes! How are ya?” His chirp comes singing through the phone, and you find yourself smiling. 

“I’m alright.” 

You can almost hear his eyebrows raise. “Nope. Bullshit. What’s wrong with you?”

“Well, if anyone asks, I just got home from visiting with you for the week.” You start to unpack your go bag, hanging up a couple of your nicer work sets and setting up the bathroom the way you like it. 

“What’s Aaron lying about this time?” 

You laugh, but it tapers off quickly. “Well, as it happens, we had a really shit week last week and I had to take some time off.” 

He’s far more solemn when he speaks again, “That sounds like a little more than a ‘I got a flat tire on my way to work and my coffee was cold’ kind of shit week if you actually took time off.” He pauses. “Oh please don’t tell me you broke off the engagement.” 

“Not at all, not at all. Aaron and I are fine, but…” Going back and forth for a moment, you ultimately decide to tell him. Maybe it will get easier if you say it out loud. “I, um. I miscarried last week.” You’re proud of yourself for spitting it out with only a little stumbling, and Dean’s immediate concern brings tears to your eyes. 

“Oh God, honey. I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it at all?”

“I mean -” you take a deep breath. “No? I don’t know. I feel really shitty about it and we talked to Aaron’s mom and I know it isn’t my fault, but -” You huff, getting a little frustrated. “It was a girl, Dean. Aaron was so excited.” 

Something creaks in the background, and you know he’s just settled into the ancient armchair in the corner of his studio. “Don’t forget babe, you were excited, too. This isn’t just disappointing for Aaron, as much as you’d like to make everything about him.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. He’s right. “I know, but -”

“No! No buts. This is a loss for both of you, and it's huge. Like, I dunno why people don’t talk about it more. Your kid is your kid is your kid if you wanted them and they didn’t make it. It doesn’t matter if you met her or not - you knew her and she was yours.” 

So, maybe the tears weren’t finished. Dean stops talking for a minute, and you know he can hear you sniffling. 

“Are you going to try again?”

And isn’t that the question of the hour?

“Well, we didn’t really try for this one, but I think we’ve caught the bug. I was planning on talking to Aaron about it a little more when I get home -”

“What’s the case?”

“Maine, probably a serial killer,” you answer promptly, getting right back on track. You’re used to Dean’s quick interruptions. Context is important to him and you’re always happy to provide it. “I don’t think we’re going to try, per se, but I don’t think we’ll be too concerned about being careful either. That way it’s a pleasant surprise instead of something stressful or disappointing, you know?”

“Ah,” he says. “A ‘fuck it and forget it’ approach. I dig it. And we all know Aaron can ‘fuck it’ with the best of them - you’ll have to tell me how the ‘forgetting it’ part goes.”

You laugh despite yourself, wiping at your cheeks. “How do you always manage to make me laugh?”

His laugh sounds from the other side of the phone, and it warms you from your fingers to your toes. You can almost forget its nearly five below zero outside. “What can I say? Laughter is the virtue of the gays.”

Your phone beeps at you, and it’s Aaron. “Hey Beanie, I gotta let you go. Aaron’s beeping in on me.” 

“Go get your tub’a humbus, babe. I’ll talk to you later.”

You switch calls, and raise the phone back to your ear. “Hey, love. What’s goin’ on?”

“I just missed you.” You can hear the sink in the background and you check the clock. 

Ah yes, dishes before bed because someone can’t sleep if there are dishes in the sink. 

“Hi!” Jack shouts from across the kitchen, and it makes you smile. “I miss you!”

“I miss you too, my loves! Though, Aaron, I must say -” you stop yourself. “Am I on speaker?” 

There’s a shuffle, and his voice sounds a lot closer when he replies. “Not anymore.” You know he’s smiling. 

You laugh. “I was going to say, it’s a lot easier to abide by our no-contact order when I’m five states away.”

“Don’t remind me.” You can’t see him, but he sounds at least a little pained. “We’ll be almost done with that by the time you get home, which is nice.” 

“Very nice, indeed.” Settling into bed, you pull the covers up to your chin. “I wish you were here with me.” 

You can hear him walk through the house, getting some distance from Jack. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm. As nice as your new digs are, Chief Hotchner, sleeping without you when I’m on cases is really rough.” A light laugh leaves you. “I still haven’t gotten used to it.” 

He hums. “Well, I’ll make it worth your while when you get home, how’s that?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you say with a smile. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Get some rest. I love you more.” 

+++

Your first hunch was right - serial killer with a preference for blonde women in their forties. Luckily, those factors alone made for a nice, neat, narrow profile, and you were down to a small pool of suspects within days. 

It’s safe to say your heart isn’t in it. You’re almost relieved when JJ calls you out on the way to the medical examiner’s office.

“What’s going on with you and Aaron?” Her bright blue eyes stay on the road as she speaks, but you know she’s completely tuned into you. “You guys seem...off.” 

“We’re fine - the two of us, I mean.” You’re not sure how much to want to tell her. She isn’t Dean. You have to work with her every day, and as much as she’s your friend, it’s hard to talk about this when she already has a son of her own and another on the way. “There’s just, um, some stuff going on at home.”

She reaches across the console and takes your hand. “Whatever it is,” and she sounds like she knows. “You’re not alone.” 

You look over at her and squeeze her hand. There’s something mournful and heartbreaking about the set of her mouth, and something cold and sympathetic washes over you. “Really?”

She nods. “Ours was a girl.” Her confession is quiet and her eyes never once flicker from the road. 

Your voice is just as quiet, almost a secret. “Ours, too.” 

+++

Aaron’s waiting for you in the bullpen when you land in the afternoon two days later. Without shame, you sail through the glass doors and into his arms. It’s a treat - you never feel like you’re truly home until he’s holding you, and you usually have to wait until you get home. 

Derek teases you both on his way back to his desk, and you flip him off. Everyone’s in high spirits and you’re surprised their good moods have rubbed off on you, as well. 

Emily releases you all early with the promise you’ll have your after action reports into her by tomorrow afternoon. On the way home, you tell Aaron about your conversation with JJ, and he’s so moved by it, you’re almost brought to tears again. 

+++

The next morning, Aaron leaves early for a meeting at headquarters in DC. He kisses you goodbye, and in your half-asleep state you grab his tie and make an attempt to keep him right where he is. 

It doesn’t work, but you’re rewarded with a couple extra seconds of adoration, even with your morning breath. He chuckles against your mouth. 

“I gotta go, baby.” 

You whine incoherently at him, but he dodges your reaching hands and  whispers close to your ear as he brings the covers up over your shoulder. “You have another hour before you need to be up. Sleep. I love you.” Another kiss presses into your temple, and you hear the bedroom door close softly behind him. 

When another hour lapses (during which you dozed, quite thankful he told you to get some more sleep), you rise and get ready to head into the office. Jack’s up and getting dressed in his room while you get started in the kitchen. 

But, of course, there’s no need. Aaron has a breakfast spread ready and covered on the counter, with coffee just finished in the percolator. 

A god among men…

You pull your favorites from the pile, and set aside a few things for Jack. This cut your prep time in half at least, so you’ll have a little more time to eat and get settled before you have to be out the door. 

Assembling breakfast is easy, and you and Jack share space in relative silence. He looks up at you over his eggs and grins. Oh, how you love that boy. 

+++

When you get into the office, JJ’s reading a note, a little white envelope tucked behind it. You’re the first two in the office - a shocker, considering the two children between you, both under the age of ten. 

“What have you got there?”

She looks up and you can tell her eyes are a little misty. “Just a really sweet note someone left on my desk.” Waving it in the air, she asks, “Want to read it?”

You smile, setting your things down. “Only if you want me to.” 

She hands it over, and you take it, immediately recognizing Aaron’s handwriting. 

JJ- 

I wish we didn’t know the same loss, but I’m selfishly glad it’s you. Thank you for taking care of us so well. 

As always, anything for you. Just say the word. 

  AH

 “You know,” JJ says as you hand the note back to her. “He wasn’t like this before you.” 

You snort. “Don’t I know it.” 

“No, I’m serious. Even before you guys got together, you made him better. This -” she holds the note up and flicks it, “never would have happened eight years ago.” 

+++

By the time the next case is solved and everyone comes home, Brienne’s orders have expired. Jack is long asleep and you find Aaron in his office. His head is propped up on his hand, elbow on his desk, as he reads over some esoteric legal decision he’s decided to research as a hobby. 

Like he’s not busy enough. 

In fairness, he did defend his newest activity over dinner a few weeks ago. 

“What else am I supposed to do after Jack’s asleep and you’re out on a case? Watch TV? Go to bed early? No, I’m going to review legal decisions and take notes so I don’t bore you to death when you get home.”

“Aaron, you could never bore me to death.” 

“I wouldn’t take that bet.” 

He looks over his reading glasses, and his eyes light up. “Welcome home.” 

You offer him a warm smile as you cross his office and round his desk. “Hi.” 

Aaron drops his pen and pulls you close by your hips, and you lean on the side of his chair. “How was the case?”

“I would hate to spoil Emily’s report that will inevitably be about three hours late getting to your desk on Tuesday.” 

He raises his eyebrows. “I see.” His hand drops down to the outside of your thigh, and you swing a leg over his chair to straddle him, getting situated on his lap. “You know, I still have work to do.” 

“What? Is this Supreme Court decision more interesting than me?”

He shrugs, leaning forward again and picking up his file. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and you settle against his chest as he continues to read. With a sigh, he says, “You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes for someone who wants something specific.” 

You huff. “Oh, c’mon. It’s not like I’m getting any in here.” 

“You don’t know that.” His voice is even, almost distracted, but when you shift over him you can tell he’s affected. “Something might surprise you.” 

“Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

He takes another breath and, just like he’s done so many times before, says, “Sweetheart, I’m not suggesting anything.” 

+++

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[constilationn]

Changing The Sheets || Part 2 🥀

A/N: Hey guys, I wrote a part two of this because I really like the direction it was going in. Anyway, I’m really really proud of this one and I loved writing it. Please do give any and all feedback, I love it. Much love guys. 

Rating: T?

Warning: naughty words, that's about it. 

Summary: You think you’re doing okay, Ashton shows up and you realise you might not be. But time can mend and you know that. 

Part 1

At the end of three weeks, crisis mode ends for everyone but you. Calum stops coming by every day, understandable because he has his own life to live but it hurts all the same. Luke and Michael still come around occasionally but everything goes back to normal. You’ve accepted Ashton isn’t coming back anytime soon, you’ve accepted that he’s probably with her now and it’s time to move on but it still hurts. It hurts so much that your heart seemingly twists with every breath you take and a pain lingers in your gut that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try. Still, you think it might be time to fix the bedroom, throw out all of Ashton’s old stuff and start fresh. You think you can do that, think after weeks of shutting the world out, you can drag yourself down to the department store and buy replacements for all the stuff you broke. You can drag yourself out of bed, put your goddamn clothes on and start putting yourself back together like you promised you would.

And so you do.

Two days after changing the sheets for the first time, you kick the comforter back off and let it land on the floor. You drag yourself up, throw the pillows from the bed and strip the sheet from the mattress. It’s different now, this isn’t anger anymore or at least you don’t think it is, you think its acceptance, think it’s the determination to pick up the pieces of yourself and slot them back into place no matter what you have to do. Because you can’t stay in this apartment with all the things you shared and the shards of the promises he made to you. You can’t stay in this house with fragments of his cologne and toothbrush and his record collection that stares mockingly at you every time you sit on the couch and try to forget everything he destroyed when he left you. You think ... you think you need to make this place your own, fill it with your own love and your own light and everything you know you can be with him. Because you’ll be okay, you know you’ll be okay but it’ll take time, and you know that too.

The first thing you do when you finally force yourself away from the bedroom and away from the pile of sheets you’ve pulled from the cupboard, is grab a trash bag from the cupboard under the sink and head back into the bathroom. You don’t spare the broken glass another look as you sweep it into the bag, try not to touch the bristles of the toothbrush as you throw the fragments of the life you had before into the bag. In fact, you clear out every single thing in that room that belongs to him and make a note in your mind to buy your favourite bath salts and bath bombs and replace everything he said he loved with what you like because this is your home now, and you intend to make it a place filled with love instead of betrayal and regret.

The trash bag is full by the time you reach the closet in your bedroom, all traces of Ashton gone from the bathroom and the kitchen. You left the living room, can’t bring yourself to touch his record collection that he spent weeks organizing or the stack of books with his scribbled post it notes on top. You loved reading almost as much as he did. You’ve always been a sucker for getting lost in a story, mostly Jane Austen, and her talent for writing a romance you could only dream about. You’ve fantasied about meeting your Prince Charming on more than one occasion. You thought you’d found that when you’d met Ashton. Turns out you were wrong.

It takes you a minute. It takes you a minute because everything hits you, suddenly and all at once, and you have to stop yourself from falling back into the chaos you’re so determined to leave behind. You take a breath, shaking, then another and turn back into the bedroom without giving that stupid coffee table another glance. You might have to buy another one, fuck, you might have to refurnish your entire apartment until you can learn to love and breath in here again.

Crescent moons appear on your palms as you dig you nails into your skin in an attempt to stop your hands shaking. It feels stupid, like you should be able to shake and cry and scream all you want in your own apartment but you feel Ashton lingering in everything you do. You have to be strong, you have to be able to throw these things out without a second glance because you’ll destroy yourself if you keep them here for much longer. You’re torn, torn between keeping his things because you know you still love him, or getting rid of them because you know you have to move on. But there’s something in the pit of your stomach, something that feels suspiciously like hope, that he’ll realize his mistake and come back.

You tear his clothes off the hangars and stuff them into the trash bag without another thought.

You leave the stripped bed, bare pillows and duvet on the floor and drag the trash bag back through the apartment. You spare a glance to the clock that hangs in your kitchen and you’re surprised to see it’s almost eleven at night. It means you’ve spent the better part of three hours throwing every trace of Ashton out of your apartment without shedding a tear. It’s an accomplishment, of sorts, something to be proud of and you know in that moment, you’ll be able to make this apartment a beautiful home for yourself.

You grab the bag, pull the door just as someone pushes from the other side and you stumble, fall back and drop the bag as Calum stands on the other side of the door with his hand still on the door handle and a stunned expression on his face.

“Calum?” You scramble to shove Ashton’s stuff back into the trash bag as Calum watches with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” It’s the first time he’s been back in a few days and you weren’t expecting one of Ashton's best friends to open the door just as you were throwing out everything he owned. Calum’s voice is thick with amusement as he speaks. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m cleansing.” You fumble for the ties at the top of the trash bag and pull them tightly. “Getting my shit together.”

“Getting rid of shit, you mean.”

“No,” you sigh, run a hand through your hair and realizing you haven’t brushed it in the same breath you realise you probably smell awful. “I’m creating something.”

“You don’t have to get rid of his stuff right away, you know. Just like you don’t have to stop loving him right away.” Calum takes the bag from you, fingers gently brushing yours, and you know by your lack of resistance that he’s right. “Let me take this.” He pauses, glances at your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none and instead is met with a soft smile, he continues. “You’ll regret it if you dump this right now. Trust me.”

“I do,” you reply, relinquishing the bag. “I do trust you.” You pause, watching Calum as he smiles. A deep breath leaves your lips without you meaning it to and Calum raises an eyebrow like he knows there’s something you want to ask him. He waits, he’s patient because he knows how hard this is for you. “How is he?” You finally ask, voice no more than a breath.

“Luke says he’s heartbroken.”

“Luke? You haven’t seen him?”

Calum shakes his head. “I’m here for you, not him. He’s my best friend but I can’t support what he did.”

It takes a lot of strength for you not to cry then, and you blink back tears, sniffle and disguise it with a laugh as Calum wraps you in his arms. You almost deflate against him, like you can finally breath, like you’ve got the validation that Ashton is in the wrong, not you. “Thank you.” You whisper, fighting to keep your voice even. “Thank you.”

Calum pulls away after a minute, “Give me this shit,” he laughs, waiting as you grab your purse and jacket and lock the door. “You want me to drive you?”

“You don’t even know where I’m going.” You chuckle, following him down the stairs and outside to his car as you struggle to keep your gaze away from the trash bag he holds in his hand. You whole life is in there, well, your old life. You dig for your keys, push the thought away and head to your car. “I love you Cal, but we’re going different ways and you’re not the best driver.”

“I’m a great driver!” He insists as you duck into your car and give him a wave. He flips you off with a grin and you shake your head as you pull out of the lot ahead of Calum and take the turn to the department store.

You’re ready, you know you’re ready and you’ve already got a list in your head of what you can buy now that Ashton’s gone. You’ll fill the bathroom shelves with wicker baskets full of bath salts. You’ll buy new sheets, ones alive with colour and you’ll replace the cushion covers with the ones you wanted to get all along. You’ll buy plants and put them in every nook and cranny of your apartment and you’ll stock the fridge with your favourite food and forget how it used to be crammed with beer. It’s the next step for you, the next chapter.

But the thing is, you didn’t want to turn the page at all.

You pull into a space outside the store, grab a basket and head inside in high spirits because this is the first time you’ve felt confident with a decision since Ashton left. You dressed in something other than pajamas, you threw on some makeup and you hauled your ass out of the apartment because you’re so determined to make a life for yourself.

And you’re so confident in this decision, so unbelievably proud of yourself as you turn down the aisle to pick out your plants, that you think you might be having some sort of mental break when you see Ashton standing at the other end of aisle with a plant in hand.

And you freeze, your blood turns cold and you fucking freeze on the floor of that department store because every emotion that you’ve felt in the last few weeks hit you like a slap to the face and you fail to pick your jaw up off the floor, fail to turn around and leave despite the amount of fear and hate and adrenaline that’s racing through your veins. So, when he turns and meets your eyes and the plant he’s holding falls to the floor and the pot shatters, your heart fucking explodes.

And yet, you still can’t fucking move.

Your name on his lips for the first time in weeks makes your stomach turn and bile rise in your throat. Your heart races, thunders in your chest and you can hear blood pounding in your head as you try to figure out what to do before he reaches you. But you can’t leave now because he’s seen you and as much as you want to show him that he means nothing to you, you can’t bring yourself to destroy the last little piece of your relationship that has survive. So you take a breath, steady yourself because you refuse to be afraid of this anymore and turn to Ashton as he stops in front of you.

“Hi.” You wait for him to speak first and when he does, you’re surprised to find there’s anger in the pit of your stomach instead of the grief you expected to feel.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Hi.”

Ashton hesitates, “How are you?”

“How do you think?”

“I— “

“You what?” You’re aware you don’t give him the chance to finish but the rage that seems to have consumed you in the time that he’s walked from one end of the aisle to the other is the thing that guides you.

“I’m so sorry.”

You scoff, “I bet you are,” you glance down to the basket in his hands. “So what, you’re already shopping for your new place? For your new girl?”

You’re not sure Ashton’s eyes can widen anymore. He’s always known you were feisty, knew exactly what he was getting into but he’s never seen you like this, driven by blinding anger. “No. No, I... I’m staying with Luke. Thought I could get him something to say thank you.”

“Not staying at your new girls house then?” You haven’t unfolded your arms, eyes glaring at Ashton as he focuses on anything other than your face.

Ashton’s eyes fall to your shoes. “I haven’t seen her since that night.”

You laugh, short and bitter. “Don’t be shy, Ash. Since the night you fucked her.”

Ashton shakes his head, “Please, please let me explain.”

“What’s there to explain?” And despite yourself, you take a step closer to him. “You don’t love me anymore, remember.”

Ashton seems close to tears, frustration and exasperation driving him towards the edge. “Just give me a chance to explain, please.”

You’re silent for a moment watching Ashton as he watches you before you let go of your cart, raise an eyebrow and turn to leave the store. You’re not sure if Ashton picked up that you want him to follow but then you head into the parking lot and hear his footsteps behind you as he follows you to your car.

“Get in.” Is the only thing you say as you open the door to your car and watch Ashton slide into the passenger seat. He doesn’t have to say yes. All he does is wait.

🥀

A silver Honda passes you as you and Ashton sit side by side on the hood of the car. You’ve been here for seven minutes and twelve seconds, you know because you’ve been watching the seconds pass you by on the clock on the dashboard.

“We haven’t talked in a while.” You finally say, remembering every single might where you pushed the call button on Ashton’s contact on your phone.

“No,” Ashton replies, quiet as ever, “No we haven’t talked at all.”

The freeway’s almost empty but some traffic zooms by the two of you as you stare past Ashton and into the inky blue of the sky. It’s fourteen minutes past one, all you know is that you drove the freeway for two hours and then pulled over to the an emergency bay on the side of the road. But you don’t know much else because your head is spinning and Ashton is sitting the closet to you that he has in weeks.

You can’t avoid this forever, you suppose, which is a shame because you've done a good job trying.

So you sigh, slide off the hood of the car as you wipe your hands on your jeans. Ashton looks like he wants to follow but the glare you cast his way tells him to stay put. “This is how this is going to work. You’re going to answer every fucking question I ask you and I might not shove you in front of an oncoming vehicle.”

Ashton nods, barely breaths as he says “yes.” Probably because he doesn’t want to be thrown in front of a car, you suppose. But still, it’s a start.

“Who bought you your shit?” It’s no mystery to you that some of Ashton’s stuff disappeared from your apartment before you started to break everything. You couldn’t bring yourself to care back then. You do now, though.

“Luke and Michael.”

“You saw them a lot?”

“A bit, yeah.”  

You nod, run your tongue over your teeth. “Calum?” Because despite what he said to you, your trust has been shattered and you want to see if Ashton will lie to you even now.

“He hasn’t returned my calls,” Ashton says quietly. “I don’t know.”

Okay, you think, two questions in and you don’t want to snap yourself in half. You take a few steps away from the car, then walk back and stare Ashton straight in the face as another car growls past.

“How’ve you been? Really? Don’t sugar coat it.”

Ashton gives a sad sort of smile as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. “Fucking...terrible. Maybe worse. Haven’t been getting out of bed a lot.”

“Good.” You snap, can’t stop yourself because he should hurt just as much as you did. He shouldn’t be able to get out of fucking bed either. You breathe in the crisp night air and try to calm yourself.

“How’ve you been?” You stop pacing across the gravel of the freeway and look up at him.

“You already asked me that. I already answered.” God, your voice is vicious, prowls across the cool night air and bites at him. But you feel satisfied, knowing you can give Ashton little cuts like this.

Ashton bites his lip and looks down. He looks out of breath, like he’s run miles and you can’t help but think god, because he deserves every bit of pain you felt. “I know. But it’s all I think about.”

Cry me a fucking river. You want to scream. You couldn’t handle one fucking day of this.

Fuck, you love him so much.

And even though he hasn’t talked over you once you can’t help but snap, “Interrupt me one more time and you can fucking walk home.” And then before you can stop yourself, before you can falter, “Now, why’d you do it?”

Ashton stops moving then, stops fiddling, stops breathing, so quickly that you’re almost worried. But then Ashton opens his mouth and you realise you’re not ready for this answer so you cover your fear with malice. “Don’t hesitate” you say, “Don’t fucking um and ah. And don’t bullshit me, don’t you fucking dare.”

“Okay.”

“So why’d you fucking do it, you selfish prick.” You say and when your voice finally cracks, Ashton looks away.

Good, you think, fucking let him hurt. Let him feel half of what I have.

“Baby— “

“Why did you fucking do it?” You yell, veering straight past the nickname because you can’t handle that right now, not on top of everything else. You voice makes Ashton’s head snap up. “Don’t fucking look away from me. Just tell me!” And then softer, because your voice has cracked and you can’t do this anymore, “Just say it. Please.”

Ashton nods, wipes the back of his hand over his eyes.

“Okay...okay, but you can’t...it’s not logic. It’s not.”

“Just say it.” Four cars go past before Ashton speaks again and you fight to keep yourself steady on your feet.

“I got scared,” he says finally and you’ve never heard Ashton’s voice so small. “I got scared and you didn’t. I got scared and I panicked and I drank too much and you were a million miles away and I fucked up.”

“Not enough,” you shake your head. “That’s not enough. You don’t get to fuck someone and tell me you don’t love me and get away with it in a single sentence. That’s not fucking good enough.”

Ashton slides from the hood of the car then and you’re so scared he’s going to end this conversation and get back in the car and leave you again. So, you say the first thing you can think of. “You wanted it too, though, didn’t you? You wanted me?” And, fuck, you can barely stomach how stupid your question sounds but you need to know. You need to know.

“Of course I wanted you.” Ashton says, polar opposite to the venom that coats your voice. “Of course I did.”

“Then what the fuck?” You ask angrily because you don’t understand, you don’t. “What the fuck was all of it for. I don’t understand.”

“We weren’t supposed to make it.” Ashton whispers and the distance you’ve put between the two of you, you quickly close because you can’t miss this. “We were twenty-one and twenty fucking three something and we weren’t supposed to make it. It wasn’t...it wasn’t supposed to go anywhere because I was leaving for tour and you wanted that degree and wanted to leave this stupid goddamn city. And we didn’t have a chance in hell of making it.”

Your inches away from him now.

“And then by some fucking miracle, we did make it.” Ashton says, “and then you’re talking about a future with a house and a family and fucking colour schemes and shit and it scared me. I was fucking scared and so out of my depth and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You croak out, “Why didn’t...you could’ve told me.”

Ashton snorts and makes the two of you seem impossibly closer. “Do you know what kind of person you are to let down?” He asks, “I couldn’t do that to you and so I got scared and I tried to avoid it and I fucked up.”

“So you went and stuck your dick in someone else?” You spit, “like that wasn’t going to raise anymore fucking issues, like that wasn’t going to cause a bit of a problem, like— “

“You asked me why.” Ashton says and his voice raises for the first time. “You asked me why. I’m not saying it makes sense but...that’s it.”

You thought knowing would make you feel better. You really did, but now you know just how mistaken you’ve been. “I should’ve known,” you say, face white, “I should’ve known, I was right there and I just...I did nothing.”

You could deal with not knowing, you realise, you could deal with that but now there’s a pressure on your chest saying it’s on you, saying it’s your fault. You think you might throw up and brace yourself against the hood of the car.

“It’s not your fault,” Ashton says from behind you and you’ve forgotten how much you miss his comfort, his safety. “It’ll never be your fault. You have to know that.”

“But it is.” You say, snapping back around to face Ashton. “Because you couldn’t tell me. You couldn’t tell me and you couldn’t touch me a and so you had to find someone else.” And it’s so overwhelming, so fucking overwhelming and it hits you all at once and you don’t realise Ashton holding you until your legs are about to give out.

You want to push him away, want to throw yourself off, want to barrel into traffic for all you care but you’re not strong enough. Because you’re so fucking tired and sad and so, so in love with the boy in front of you that it feels like if you let go of him you’ll forget how to breath.

“I hate you.” You sob but pull Ashton closer and you shudder as he kisses the top of your hair. “I love you. I can’t fucking do this.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ashton whispers. “I’m so so sorry. I’m sorry I did it and I’m sorry I hurt you and I’m so so sorry I fucked it all up.”

“No. Don’t do that. You don’t get to say sorry and have yourself feel better and leave me here like this. You don’t get to do that.”

“I’m— “

“I fucking love you,” You yell and somewhere, someone sounds their horn as they pass you and you kick up a cloud of dust. “God, I love you so much but I can’t fucking trust you and I hate you a lot but I still love you too. And I don’t understand how you can say you feel the same when you did all this.”

Ashton stops in his tracks then, freezes just like you did in the department store. “No one picked up the phone for me, you know that? No one picked up for the longest time and when Luke finally did, he gave me a fucking earful.” Ashton pauses, lowers his voice. “And I didn’t care.”

Everything in your head snaps quiet.

“What?”

“I didn’t care,” Ashton says, “because all I could think about was getting you back. I knocked on Luke’s door that first fucking night and said I want to go home.”

“But that can’t be true,” you whispered, “because you fucked someone else.”

You see the way that rips through Ashton, see the way it absolutely breaks him but you don’t feel satisfied. You just feel so, so tired.

“Yeah,” Ashton says and it’s the first time you’ve heard him own up to that. “Yeah and it only took me a fucking second to realise I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.”

You don’t say anything, watch the moon and the sky and a red car that growls past before you finally look back to Ashton.

“I don’t know what to do,” Ashton says. “But tell me what it is and I’ll fucking do it. I’ll do whatever you need, whatever you want. You’re so...” he trails off, bites his lip. “You’re so gorgeous, baby. You’re my favourite person in the world and I want to make you believe that again, if you’d let me.”

It’s too much, it’s all too much and suddenly all you need to do is go home and go to bed.

“Yeah. Well. I think you’ve done enough for today. Let’s go.” And the car is silent for the two hours back to the city.

You let Ashton walk you to the door for no other reason than you’re too tired to stop him. He casts a hopeful look at the door but you remember everything you’ve thrown out, what the apartment looks like now and the anger and emptiness still between those walls and you know you can’t let him in.

“You should go, Ash.” You say finally.

“Please,” is all he says. “Please, baby.” His voice is miserable and cracked and hoarse.

“I’ll call you.” You murmur. “I promise. I just...I just need a couple days.”

Ashton nods, presses a kiss to your cheek and leaves without another word.

You open the door and fall straight onto your bare bed. You’ve driven for hours, had the life drained out of you and all you need now is to sleep.

🥀

You get yourself a coffee the next morning, enjoy the sun for just a little while before you head back inside and sit and stare at your phone for a good couple of minutes. You know who to call, know what you want to say but you’re not sure if you’re ready for the conversation.

But you suppose that if you don’t do it now, you’ll have to do it later.

So, you pick up the phone, dial and it only takes a couple of seconds before Calum picks up on the other end.

“Hey,” you can already hear the concern in his voice, already know he’s straight back into panic mode. You can’t let it phase you though and so you take a breath and begin. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” you start, closing your eyes. “Do you think it’s stupid or, I don’t know, weak if I take him back?”

Calum doesn’t say anything for a long time, although you can hear him drumming his fingernails on the table top.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that as long as you’re in this for you and not him...then I think forgiving him is the strongest thing you can do.”

“I haven’t forgiven him yet.” You mumble.

“I know.” He says, waits for you to speak again.

“Thank you,” you say because you need him to know how much he’s meant to you throughout this. “I do love you Cal, really.” And of course, it’s not in the same way you love Ashton, you doubt you’ll ever love someone the way you love Ashton, but you need him to know nonetheless.

“You know,” he pauses and when he speaks again you can hear his smile down the phone. “You changed the sheets, not me.”

You laugh and cry at the same time.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Calum murmurs gently. “Go get him.”

And so you do.

🥀

The first couple months are difficult to say the least.

You walk on eggshells for the first while, walk around each other and every touch, every brush of your skin against Ashton is uncertain. You’ll wake up in the middle of the night to Ashton breathing softly next to you and it’ll get too much and you’ll pad to the living room and sleep on the couch and wake to Ashton staring at you from the kitchen with guilt in the pit of your stomach.

When you come home and Ashton isn’t there, there’s an initial wave of nausea that hits you so hard you can’t do anything but sit and stare at the TV without turning it on. You know that he’ll be getting groceries or having a beer with the boys but all you’ll be able to think is that he’s back out with her and he won’t be coming back to you.

There are days when you think you can’t do it and nights when you can’t be in the same bed with him. The uncertainty lingers for a while but in the midst of that, there’s so much more. You start dating each other again and Ashton looks at you like you’re his whole world. You eat takeout and watch cheesy movies and take stupid photos and there are nights when you stay up until three in the morning and talking about everything that’s happened. There are nights when neither of you say anything either too, you don’t need to, because you know you’re going to be okay.

Everything mends, slowly. There comes a day when you don’t find broken bits of glass in the drawer in the bathroom. There comes a day when you’re on the couch with Ashton and you think that, somehow, it’s exactly how it used to be.

“Baby,” Ash murmurs one night, knowing that you’re okay with the nickname now. “You awake?”

You leave it for a second and then reply. “What’s up?”

“Just thinking.” Ashton says and you roll your eyes in the dark.

“Dangerous.” You grin into his chest. “What about?”

Ashton’s quiet for just a little too long before you realise this isn’t just going to be a goodnight.

“I just,” he says, “I lie here and I think about you. And I just...I just want you to know that there’s nowhere else I’d rather fall asleep than right here. That’s what I think every night before I go to sleep.” Ashton pulls you closer as you stay silent. “I just need you to know that I love you.” And he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Yeah,” you murmur and you kiss his jaw and then his lips with heavy eyes. “I know. I love you too, if you hadn’t realized.”

Ashton seems happy with that but you stay awake a little longer. You brush your hand over his skin until you’re calm enough to fall asleep next to him, next to the love of your life. And when you wake the next morning, it’s to the smell of Ashton cooking breakfast in the kitchen.

Everything mends, slowly.

The two of you mend last, but you think that’s okay. Because back before this, back when it all began, you were the one to change the sheets. And, you suppose, if changing the sheets wasn’t so bad, the rest won’t be either.

[astorytotellyourfriends]

because "reggie in all the pretty and lacy things to wear" is a thing to think about at least five times a day, what are your thoughts on how it got started polycurve style?

oh anon you are absolutely correct, everyone should be thinking about reggie in pretty and lacy things all day every day.

i imagine this is going to get v long v quickly so it's under a cut for the sake of everyone's dashes lol

so maybe one day the guys are all at some vintage clothes shop in hollywood because one or more of them wanted to find some new-to-them stuff (lbr probably luke wanting to find more old band shirts he could cut the sleeves off of) and while they're all wandering around/browsing, Reggie finds something that catches his eye. he pulls it off the rack and quickly realizes that it's definitely meant to be worn by a woman and so he rushes to put it back before anybody sees he's picked it up, but he doesn't stop thinking about it.

maybe it sticks around in his head long after they've left the shop. it was soft and lacy and it looked so nice even for the five seconds Reggie actually let himself look at it. he goes back a couple days later without the others and tells himself that if it's not there, then it's the universe telling him to move on and forget all about it.

but it's still there. he checks the price tag and it's maybe twenty bucks, so there's not really anything holding him back from buying it - except maybe facing the cashier at the front of the shop. his hands shake as he takes it off the rack and by the time he makes it to the counter to buy it, he's bright red. the cashier is a woman not much older than he is, and she barely even blinks when he lays it down on the counter between them.

Reggie's sweating bullets as he hands over the cash to pay for it, but the cashier doesn't mention a single thing about the fact that he's a boy buying a dress. she folds it up gently and puts it in a bag and hands it over with his change and tells him to have a good day, and he practically races out of the shop afterwards.

the problem is... he has nowhere to hide it at home. if he were still living with his parents then it would probably go under the bed or at the back of his closet, but now that he's living with the band and they're kindasorta all dating each other... privacy has gone down to practically nothing.

somehow, Reggie manages to keep it a secret for a while. he keeps the bag hidden in an old backpack of his and he keeps that hidden in the back of one of the kitchen cabinets that they rarely open.

he waits and waits for an opportunity to have some time to himself to try it on and until it happens, it's always nagging at him in the back of his mind. finally the day comes where Bobby and Luke want to go to guitar center and Alex has some sort of plans with another friend, which leaves Reggie with the option of either going along with Bobby and Luke or staying home.

he manages to convince them that he doesn't need anything at guitar center - which is mostly true, though having spare strings for his bass is never a bad thing - and tries to act totally normal while deep down he's praying that they all leave the apartment as soon as possible.

even after they're all gone, it takes Reggie at least twenty minutes to actually work up the nerve to put the dress on. he gets it out of the kitchen cabinet and just lays it out on the bed, staring at the silk and lace and just running his hands up and down it over and over.

but once he finally strips down and slips it on, it feels better on his skin than he ever could've imagined.

(full disclosure in my head i'm picturing maybe like a silk dress with lace detailing that looks like it could either be something worn on a night out or tbqh something to sleep in lol the 90s were weird)

the problem is once it's on, he doesn't want to take it off. he spends so long looking at himself in the mirror and touching himself all over that he totally loses track of time and suddenly, the boys are coming home.

he tries hiding in the bathroom but there's no way he's going to be able to put the dress back in its hiding place now that they're all home again. and once they discover that Reggie's locked himself in the bathroom, all three of them are at the door asking him to come out with worried voices and promises to help him through whatever happened while they were gone.

Reggie feels awful. he never meant to worry them but he can't go out there in the dress, he can't! eventually the boys start getting more frantic because Reggie's still refusing to open the door and so Luke starts talking about breaking it down (even though both Alex and Bobby are telling him absolutely fucking not) and finally Reggie just relents and says that he'll open the door if they promise not to laugh.

of course they all promise (and there's a few mutters of why would we laugh what the hell is going on) and after another few minutes of paralyzing fear, Reggie opens the door. all three stare at him with open mouths and Reggie blushes so much his whole body is red underneath the dress.

but they keep their promise. not a single one of them laughs. they're all too busy thinking about how good Reggie looks in the dress. Bobby's the first to speak, and all that comes out is "holy shit".

Reggie, of course, is totally embarrassed and rambles his way through an explanation that completely goes over the heads of the other three because they're still just caught up in looking at him so they barely even hear a word he says. when he finishes, his voice has gotten so hysterical that he shrieks a little bit and that sound finally breaks Alex out of his stupor and he realizes that Reggie's got tears in his eyes.

"Reg," he says in a soft, reverent voice, "you look incredible."

of course, Reggie thinks he's hearing things. he can't believe that they'd actually like him like this. he sniffles and shakes his head, thinking they're just trying to placate him and pretend like this isn't totally crazy, but then they all bundle him up in a hug and both Luke and Bobby join with Alex in telling him how good he looks and how badly they wanna touch him right now.

it inevitably ends with the four of them having sex and trying very very hard not to ruin Reggie's pretty dress, but this has already gone on SO LONG omg thank u for indulging me 😅💛