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andysorbit · 10 months

Text

Playdate (M)

non idol!Mark x fem!reader

genre: smut, romance?

warnings: sex in a semi-public space, unprotected sex, daddy kink, slight strength kink, dirty talk, choking, oral sex (fem receiving)

author's note: @brownsugarbaybee a gift for you on Mark's born day :,)

word count: a lot baby I dunno

You knew it was the onset of a very calculated attack the second Mark asked you to put on the summer dress loved to see you in so much. The sage green button down sundress. It was a very simple dress but it was stunning.

So stunning that he had literally ripped it off of you the first day you wore it. This caused him to go back to the store he originally bought it from and purchase six more.

To say he was obsessed was an understatement. He started buying you dresses in that exact style in all kinds of colors and prints but that dress had a bind on him.

He had planned a picnic for the day. After you both prepared everything and packed it in a basket along with drinks and a blanket, you got ready.

After ruining two of those dresses, he bought a few more online.

"Okay, we are ready to jet," Mark said softly. He had bent over to help you buckle the straps of your shoes because he was just that boyfriend. He stood up and looked you over.

His eyes fixed on you in a longing gaze and he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Mark, can we get out the damn door this time?" You asked with an amused smile.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course we can. I'm good. We can go," he rambled. He thought he was playing it cool but the longing look in his eyes gave him away.

It always did.

The drive was short and sweet and after parking, you both made your way to an out-of-the-way clearing in the woods that Mark had found a little ways out beyond the trees and brush.

"We made it!" You cheer. Mark sat the basket down and went about spreading out the blanket and setting up a citronella dispenser to keep the bugs away. Once everything was just right, you both sat down.

You chatted as you ate and Mark popped open a bottle of wine. It was comfortable and the weather was perfect.

After finishing your lunch, Mark was obviously ready to have you and his eyes danced over you with excitement and need.

"You look so pretty," he hummed as he pulled you into his lap. His throbbing cock immediately found your warmth as you involuntarily rutted against him. The thin material of your panties along with the coarseness of his pants were both too much and not enough.

"Mark Lee, don't you tear my dress open again," You gasped as his hands firmly held your hips.

"I won't do that again... Promise. I just need you, baby. You're so pretty and you know I can't help myself when you're wearing that damn dress," he leaned in to press a hungry kiss to your lips.

"Mark, what if someone sees us?" You asked reluctantly as you rocked a little faster against him.

"Nobody knows about this spot... it's all ours. I just need you to be a good girl and stay quiet for me, okay?" he whispered as he unbuttoned the first five buttons of your dress. A smile spread across his lips as he eyed your sheer front closure bra, "My favorite dress and my favorite bra... I have you trained, kitten?"

You nodded and wriggled impatiently.

His hands dragged up your thighs to bunch the dress up around your waist and he groaned at your matching panties, "God, you're so fucking perfect."

You sighed as he moved your hips back and forth over the bulge in his pants, "Daddy," You groan.

"That's it baby. You feel that? You did that to me," he sighed as he bucked his hips, "You always do this to me."

You took his face in your hands and kissed him slowly as his hands traveled up your waist to cup your breasts. His thumbs traced over your nipples and he smirked as you took in a sharp breath.

"You like how I touch you?" he asked slowly. You nodded eagerly and pushed your chest out a bit more; your eagerness pulling a laugh from his kiss-swollen lips as he continued toying with your perked buds.

"Raise up, baby," he said softly and you followed his orders; raising up to give him space and in what felt like a split second, Mark had ripped one side of your panties off then the other, rendering the garment completely destroyed.

"Mark!" You hissed.

"You were worried about the dress. You never said anything about these," he whispered as he shoved them into your mouth, "They're still useful. See? They can help keep you quiet."

You huffed and he quickly unfastened his pants before pulling the panties out of your mouth, "I'm only kidding, sweetheart. I gotta hear you at least a little bit."

And so it began.

He pulled you down to sink onto his dick, "Yeah, baby... God, this pussy is so fucking good," he sighed; he squeezed your hips harshly. Not giving yourself any time to adjust to him, you rode him frantically and his eyes stayed fix on yours.

"Daddy, hurts... hurts- fuck," You sighed as he stretched you just right.

"You like it? Huh? You like how it hurts, baby? You like how I barely fit in that tight little pussy?" Mark grunted.

You whined as you caught his lips against yours. He moaned into your mouth before turning you both over and his lips never left yours as your back hit the earth beneath you.

"You love taking this dick, baby? Huh? You love how good I make you feel?"

Mark slammed into you over and over as his mouth covered yours to swallow each cry and moan.

"I love it, daddy... I love your dick... faster... please, I need more," You pleaded.

Mark ceased his quick and sharp thrusts and pulled out for a moment then eased back into you slowly. His newfound long, slow, and deep stroke sent you into a frenzy.

"Take it... take it like a good little girl. That's daddy's girl. Fuck, baby... fuck I'm gonna cum, baby. I-" Mark groaned as his hips stuttered and he released inside you with a soft moan.

He pulled out of you and nestled between your thighs with a soft hum, "Look at this pretty pussy all wet and slicked up for me," he spread your folds and pressed a soft kiss to your clit, "Been dying to eat you out all day."

He licked and sucked at your wetness with a fervent pace; humming as he did, you writhed against the sensation.

When his tongue dipped inside you, he hummed again and your body came alive.

You gasped and cried out, "Fuck! Daddy, yes!" Mark raised up to look at you, "Too loud, kitty, be quiet," he chided. You raised up on your elbows to watch him. His eyes met yours as he kept going; softly dragging his tongue back and forth over your clit.

"Mark," You pleaded, "Please, I need it. I'm so close."

He chuckled when you brought your hands down to grasp his locks.

As you felt yourself getting closer, Mark sped up and hummed a little louder.

"Daddy, yeah... love feeling your tongue on my pussy," You whined as you squeezed your thighs around his head.

Mark stopped and pulled away causing you to sob in disappointment, "Told you to be quiet, didn't I?" he asked softly as he sat up and rolled you onto your stomach.

He closed off your breathing for a moment, "You gonna shut up? Huh?"

"Sorry... I just um... I'm sorry," You whimpered. After pulling you up into the kneeling position, he pressed your back to his torso and reached around to circle one hand around your neck and the other eased down to stroke your clit, "I'll put those panties back in your mouth. Keep it down, baby."

"O-okay," You whimpered a little too loudly.

You nodded and your head fell back against his shoulder, "Daddy," You croaked softly.

You came with shudder and your body went limp. Mark let your dress cover your lower half and you both slumped down on the blanket.

The warm summer air glided over your bodies as you caught your breaths.

"I love you, Y/n," Mark whispered against your lips.

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kitorin · 11 months

Text

one more time.

contents. 6.031k words (gave up on proof reading i'm sorry-), second chance romance, hurt to comfort, author + psychologist reader, swearing, nsfw (not smut just mentions), getting drunk, one nightmare, abandonment issues, kaiser’s terrible with people, it takes a while for kaiser to appear

part two to this

a/n. i guess you could read this as a stand alone, but a lot of the details won't make as much sense (like they'd have a lot more relevance and meaning if you've read part 1). and you're being referred to by your first name by your nephew for the sake of keeping it gn

"y/n?"

Your nephew's question brings some of your attention towards him, with the rest focusing on the road. Rain droplets raced along the windows, and he must've gotten bored of guessing which one was the fastest.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"When are you getting married?"

The innocent yet so significant question made you choke on your own spit. It was unexpected for a child to not gag at the idea of intimacy and love, let alone one questioning your marital status.

"Why are you asking something like that?" You carefully dodge the question, given that you have little to no experience with any sort of romance, the closest to love was an eternity ago. Despite graduating from college already, nothing about that had changed.

"Well." He begins explaining himself. "Mama and papa met each other in high school, they got married when they were younger than you." Unlike you, your sibling had a quite successful love life, already married and with a child. The fact that they were even high school sweethearts seemed to only accentuate your sorrowful envy.

"Your parents were lucky. Not everyone gets to meet the person they love forever in high school. Even if they do not everyone ends up marrying them." It was a difficult approach. You wanted him to fully understand the possible outcomes of love but didn't want him to avoid it entirely. "Love is dumb luck. Sadly, not everyone ends up loving someone who loves them back."

"Hmm." He sounds like he's deep in thought, which also surprised you given that he was still young and oblivious to these sorts of discussions. "Were you unlucky? Is that why you're not married?"

The query stung a bit. Not necessarily because it hurt to be reminded of him, but because it wasn't mere misfortune. It was ultimately up to him to act that way.

"Hmm, I guess. Your father got all the luck I suppose." You chuckle, an attempt to conceal that your heart was begging for some sort of closure, even after all this time.

"But that's not fair."

A sigh leaves your lips as you continue. "It isn't. But that's just life."

"What happened to them? Did they not like you?"

"They did at one point. I think. It was pretty obvious but after I liked them back, they became a bad person" It felt so weird. You've bottled up all the memories and emotions, sealing them away from the world, yet with this tiny child you've decided to open up. It's odd, but not uncomfortable.

"They're dumb."

"You can't say that. It's not their fault for not liking me-"

"But you're amazing. You always spend time with me since Mama and Papa are too busy to. You bring back yummy snacks and tell the best stories. You even teach me so many new things. You're the best person ever."

Although misery from the past had been reawakened and nurtured at the topic of the conversation, his kindness seemed to combat that, you can't help but grin.

"I'm glad you appreciate that."

"You deserve better!"

That makes your breath hitch up, a weird, indescribable sensation accumulates in your chest, and for the first time in a while your eyes begin to prickle.

You blink away the sensation. Three, simple words uttered by a literal child, yet it seems to affect you so much to the point you're moved to tears.

Because no one ever told you that.

No accusations of you being delusional and crazy. No sort of discomfort inflicted through others attempting to make it public.

It was what you've been waiting to hear for so long.

"Thanks bud. Keep this a secret from everyone else, yeah?" You come to a stop at a red light, turning towards him with a grateful smile.

He mimes zipping his lips. "Of course!"

"I know everyone's asking about me getting married, but it won't happen."

"Why?"

"Because." Because you feel undeserving of it. Because you're terrified of being abandoned like that again. Because you're simply just scared. "Because it just won't. I'd rather focus on making sure you and your parents are happy."

"Am I supposed to do that when I'm older?"

"Maybe not to my level. Make sure you treasure your family, but your lover too." Now that piece of advice makes you wonder what it'd be like if you got lucky.

"I don't want to get married even if I'm lucky. I want to be cool like you and take care of family too."

"Then do that. But don't close off your heart completely. Your dad didn’t think of love when he was a kid, look at him now. But it's completely okay if you don't love anyone." Obviously, you'd support him no matter what, but a part of you desperately wished that he'd be lucky enough to never experience what you did.

He nods but changes the topic. "What about you? You seemed happy when you talked about that person. A different kind of happy."

What was that supposed to mean?

"It's just nostalgia."

"That's a hard word. What does it mean?"

"You'll learn when you're older. Promise." And with that you dodge the topic of love, adjusting the conversation to one about the new Doraemon episode he watched the other day.

"Holy shit Ness look at how good they are at this."

"Fucking useless."

"Please help me with trig, I'm begging you. Really? Thank you so much."

"That's such a bitch move. Class average was so low, yet they're still scared of showing their high B. Fucking pussy."

"I love you."

Fuck.

Another nightmare. It's only a mess of his words, both the good and the bad; followed by overwhelming dread and fear swallowing you. A wave of relentless cold engulfing you and drowning you in the depths of torment.

The dream leaves you drenched in sweat and panting. It doesn't fucking make sense. It's been years, you were only kids and now you're an adult. Yet it still leaves you so affected. You don't even clearly remember what he looked like. Only the cerulean orbs and the blonde wolf cut.

Most people brush off any sort of heartbreak in high school as trivial and temporary, yet yours has clung onto your heart so persistently, that it still constantly haunts you.

Nothing's working. Attempting to date others only accentuated your paranoia and abandonment issues. Trying to open up to trusted ones caused the words to get stuck in your throat, to the point it feels suffocating. You even wrote an entire book about it; sure, it was effective in expressing yourself and it was a huge hit and profitable, but something deep down still hurts.

You keep trying and trying, heart craving for closure. But the only way you'd satisfy that miserable desire is through meeting him.

Only you know that so damn well.

Maybe that's why you keep fiercely trying. It's your own way of hopelessly trying to escape him.

But it's futile. It's so draining.

It doesn't matter though. It should stop soon. It's such a stupid thing to be sad over. You're successful, a now bestselling author known for your beauteous expression of love and hurt, while still working as a psychologist. You've achieved something majority of people couldn't do, and you're seeing the fruits of diligence and hard work. But it still hurts.

You do your best to shrug off this sense of dread, focusing on what's important.

"Thank you for today!"

Your nephew wore his signature grin, one that was adorable and so full of joy. It was almost impossible to not smile back at him.

With the commencement of school holiday, you decided to take him to a nearby soccer match, France vs Germany. You didn't know anything about soccer, but he loves the sport, constantly practicing and rambling about Julian Loki (a.k.a. his favourite player of all time) You got extremely lucky, if it weren't for Yoichi and his connections to the JFA you wouldn't've been able to surprise your nephew. Yoichi wasn't prepared to see you constantly thank him ("You're my closest friend, your nephew's a good kid too. Lemme coach him some day!"). He even managed to get you three VIP seats.

"Yocchan, how do I win more? I want to shoot the most goals in my team!"

You passively listen to Yoichi's advice for your nephew, as you can't understand or contribute to the conversation much. It's impressive how people play with this many people watching. The whole stadium was flooded with people, except for the VIP section but that was purely due to how expensive it was.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to France vs Germany!" The commentator booms, earning a cheer from everyone. You expected it to be loud, but not to the point you think your eardrums would burst.

The event went on normally. Player names were read out, with an energetic screech from your nephew when it was Loki's turn. At this point in time, you were pretty laid back, given that you recognized no one.

"Aaaaand Germany's ace and forward, Michael Kaiser!"

You froze.

Michael Kaiser, the Michael Kaiser from back then?

Finally, you have a vivid image of what he looks like. His blonde hair was partially dyed blue, the pretty shade slowly fading out, and navy roses decorated his neck. Red eyeliner adorned his almost feline like eyes. He looks almost unrecognizable yet he's still the boy who had a crush on you.

Suddenly, VIP seats weren't so tempting anymore. Suddenly, you want to drag yourself out of there and ask Yoichi to supervise your nephew.

But he still looks beautiful.

"I hate that bitch." Same Yoichi, same, you silently agree with him. "He's insufferable and a fucking prick."

"Language." Although you'd agree with him, it was a bit too early for your nephew to start speaking like Yoichi (though you wouldn’t mind him learning how to verbally defend himself from Yoichi).

It's only 90 minutes. There's over 20,000 people. Kaiser won't notice. Besides, high school was years ago. He's a professional player and seemingly a famous one, he would've met plenty of players and coaches, too many to even remember your existence.

You suck up your fear, the three of you cheering on Loki.

"Do you think I can be like Loki?"

The game concluded, and to your nephew's joy with France's win, 3 - 2. To be honest, you were still clueless about the sport, but you could at least tell Loki lived up to his name, rapidly scoring and leaving his opponents in the dust.

"Of course, you could be better than him!" You appreciate Isagi's support but that probably wasn't the right thing to say in an environment full of soccer fans. Nor the smartest.

"I'm going to head to the bathroom, I'll meet you outside." You hurry away, ready to get out of the stadium.

You were being too paranoid earlier, obviously nothing would happen. To a national athlete like him, someone he hurt all the way back in high school, someone who he entirely ignored for a few years too.

"Fucking found you."

As if the universe was transpiring against you once more, you're dragged into some unknown corridor, a hand silencing you.

It's him.

Michael Kaiser, now a full-grown adult. His high school popularity bloomed into real world fame and glory now. While your success had sprouted from seeds of hurt.

Now you're pressed up against a wall by him again. This time with his arms having an iron grip on your shoulders, roughly pushing you against the wall.

You can't help but reflect on last time something like this happened. But instead of childish affection it’s aggressive and rough, with his aquamarine eyes clouded with something unreadable. That wasn't particularly new, but what changed was that the foreign but hostile glint flickering in them.

All Kaiser does is stare, hair messy from the match and breathing unstable.

You don't say anything either, you can't even think properly, let alone find the right words to say.

"I've waited for this for so fucking long. You're too distracting."

His arms wrap around you, tightly, as if his life depended on it.

You can't move. Your body won't let you. It's not like you were petrified with fear. It was more so all the conflict of emotions. You weren't sure if you wanted to reciprocate the hug, scream for help, or spit in his face and swear at him.

"Kaiser... Please let go."

He abides, partially, changing back to his original position of holding you against the wall.

"No."

"Please?”

" You always fight back when you're uncomfortable." He wasn't wrong, you didn't exactly hate being in his proximity. You hated how he treated you, and how he's suddenly here again.

"You don’t mind this, right?”

Despite his words, his releases you, allowing you to run away whenever.

But you don't.

Because even though it'd be smarter to run away and never see him again, the tiny hope within you is still pleading for closure, and Kaiser himself.

"Kaiser, I can't, my nephew-"

"Is with Yoichi." Kaiser brings his face a lot closer to yours. "If you wanted to run away, you would've already."

Both of you remain silent, as your cheeks heat up at his touch and presence. His hands reach towards your face to caress your cheeks, the roughness of his calloused hands contrasting your soft skin. Annoyingly, you whimper at the unfamiliar sensation. It earns a cocky smirk from him.

"Cute, you really haven't changed."

"I don’t want to see you."

"Why? We both know you would've already kicked and slapped me if you really hated me."

"Because" Because he scarred you beyond words. "Because you hurt me. A lot." Your voice cracks up at the end, he's the one person you didn't want to be vulnerable around, both before and after heartbreak.

For the first time in forever, there's something vaguely readable in his eyes. Was that regret? Sorrow? Guilt? Empathy, even?

"I know, I could tell-"

"Then why did you do it?"

You've given up on sounding stoic, evident anger was displayed in your voice.

"I tried everything, dating other people. Yet you still haunt me to this day." Years of accumulated feelings were finally released. "Just when I finally figured out, I liked you, you fucking did that then, and then." The rest is cut off by him.

"... You liked me back...?" There's a significant shift in his tone, from cocky and confident to vulnerable and shocked. "You, liked me...?"

"Of course I fucking did Michael." A quiet gasp leaves his lips at the sound of you finally using his first name again. "You were so sweet and was always there no matter what, until you decided to hate me for no reason."

"No, I've never hated you-"

"Just stop lying. Please. First you lie about loving me and now-"

He swallows the rest of your words with a kiss, denying your claim. The kiss gives you butterflies, your cheeks heat up even more and his lips taste you and him; sweet and irresistible.

When he's done his face is flushed as well, lips swollen. His chest rises up and down, he seems more flustered from the kiss rather than the actual match itself.

It's back to the uncomfortable silence, his hands gripping your shoulders tight and various emotions clouding your mind and heart.

Without a word, Kaiser just leaves.

The action evokes a nostalgic yet dreaded emotion, it's just like how he initiates whatever he wants without considering anyone else.

You swallow your hurt, leaving the hallway and finding Yoichi and your nephew.

You don't lie to your loved ones. You’d rather die than deceive your nephew or your best friend Yoichi. But tonight, was an exception.

It's not like you wanted to make Yoichi baby sit your nephew ("Sorry, work suddenly called me in), but you were too hurt to spend time with anyone.

The bar's loud, all the noise drowns out your thoughts, as you're up to the nth bottle of alcohol, no one was keeping track.

It's out of character for you to drink so much, but the state of being disconnected from the world, not having to deal with any worries was irresistible.

"You're drinking a lot." A stranger seated next to you comments, you don't bother questioning who they were.

"I desherve it." You slur out, evidently flat out wasted. "I hate men! Especially the German ones." A few glares were probably received after you said that.

"Why's that?" Their calm tone juxtaposed your upset and livid one.

"Because, because, this bitch leaves me heartbroken for years, appears out of nowhere, kisses me and." You're cut off by a hiccup. "Disappears again! I, I-" You're a complete mess, hiccupping while chugging down alcohol, and now sobbing with tears messing up your expression.

The stranger doesn't respond, taking a quick sip from his own glass.

"Did you know," You begin explaining, despite them not asking. "I did so much. I never wanted to date much but I tried to so I could forget him. I even went to a party, and I'm scared of those. Heck, I wrote a whole ass book! At least I can monetize my pain."

"You must hate this guy."

"Beyond words, he's the reason why I think everyone will leave me, but I still feel like I have some kind of hope. If you want to know more, you should read my book." Now you were self-promoting, but the alcohol diminishes your shame. At this point it wouldn't be surprising if people were concerned about how much you've drank. "There's no point of a stupid psychology honours degree if I can't fix myself."

All they do is chuckle, still calm. "I'll read it, and I'm sure he likes you back if he kissed you. There's nothing about you to fix."

You burst into laughter; you sound borderline manic. "That's what I thought after he said he loved me." Another glass, swallowed down by you with ease.

"After all, there's no way the Michael Kaiser would actually love me."

The next morning you wake up, with a splitting headache and swollen eyes.

You try to get up and get started with the day, but the lights are so blinding, only amplifying the splitting headache.

How much did you drink?

Now you start remembering last night, the (probably) unhealthy amount you drank, your inconsolable bawling and that mysterious yet kind stranger. Your immediate reaction is to grab your pillow with plans of screaming into it, out of embarrassment, praying that you'll never meet that person again and that they'll forget who you are.

Wait.

Since when were your pillow cases white?

And where did your bookcase go? What about the drawings from your nephew and childhood you cherished and decorated your room with? And what happened to your clothes, since when did you own white robes?

Shit.

"Finally awake?"

Your eyes have finally adjusted to the light, and blinding white melts into something, no, someone.

Kaiser.

He's seated at the end of the bed, white robe matches yours, with his exposing his toned and muscular chest, and the navy roses blooming on his neck.

What the hell happened.

It's as if your fight or flight response was triggered, and your brain decided on flight with full confidence, you scurry backwards, avoiding him like the plague.

"Did we-?" The new and completely different outfit and waking up in his bed were obvious hints.

He blinks.

There's no fucking way.

"Did you at least use protection? If I get fucking chlamydia because of you, I'll ki-"

Kaiser laughs. So hard that it sounds like he can barely breathe.

"I didn't say we slept together. The y/n who never understood anything remotely sexual, instantly assuming we went that far." He composes himself, "No, we did not fuck. You were too drunk to consent."

"Then..." Your hands grip at the robe.

"Nothing happened. All I did was give you that to change into"

Alright, now you've confirmed that you don't need to get tested for any STDs or STIs.

"Goodbye then, where's my stuff?" As you try to get up, his hand holds you and your shoulder down, denying your question.

"Don't run away."

It's so ironic for him to tell you that when he stopped talking to you, avoided you, and even went as far as treating you badly. Anyone would want to run away if their first love who had scarred them emotionally randomly reappeared in their lives.

You remind yourself to remain rational, to stay calm and respond maturely, to deescalate the cascading sentiments overwhelming your heart, like a proper, polite, and perceptive adult.

But you don't want to be an adult. Not when it feels exactly like your high school years, ones where you had stayed up late just to innocently fawn over Michael Kaiser. Only for your heart to be a toy, one that he had thrown away and ruined merely because he had enough of playing with it.

You're a scared teenager alone in your room again, fearful of everything, heart closed off to the point not even you could fully comprehend what it was feeling.

You just want to run, to run away from all your problems until they'd give up hunting you down, until they found other prey to pursue, until you could live at peace with your scars.

When people mention 'confronting your fears', most would imagine someone fearless and undisturbed, someone who knows what they're doing. Yet you completely contrast that curated image, a troubled individual who wants to return to how they were before their irremediable suffering.

"Don't give me that crap. You're the one who fucking did that to me."

He's the one who decided to poison you with the suffocating fear of abandonment.

"You never cared for me in any way, why should I bother listening to you now?"

To break your heart was one thing. To do it out of nowhere without explanation after years of captivating affection was another.

Kaiser remains silent, expression still stoic.

"I hate you."

That's what you've told and convinced yourself for so many years, yet something inside of you refused to fall for your self-inflicted dishonestly. The part that miserably prayed that Michael Kaiser would one day go back to the boy who was head over heels for you.

You've managed to forget this torment for years, but all he's doing is ruining it, making it even more difficult to get over him and the indescribable hole in your heart.

But now, it doesn't seem like you're the only hurt one.

By the end of your speech, you're panting, despite only staying still in bed. You still have so much more to say, but you're already in disbelief that you've finally expressed the hardships plaguing you, and to the reason for said burdens.

"Why'd you hurt me?" And it finally happens. Tears. Ones that had hid from the world, cowering at the thought of another witnessing this pathetic vulnerability. “Everything would be so much easier if you never appeared again, but you had to randomly appear again to kiss me, only leave again.”

He finally speaks. Voice equally soft and weak as yours. “I know I did. And I know it wasn’t right. But I never wanted to, I never wanted you to hate me or end up hurt. I’ve always wanted the opposite.” Kaiser shuffles closer, hand inching closer towards yours, not daring enough to hold onto it.

He inhales, deeply, as if this whole ordeal had an emotional toll on him too.

“I didn’t avoid you because I hated you, or wanted you to get hurt. I wasn’t trying to play with your emotions either. I was young and foolish.” For the first time, he’s readable, evident sorrow painting his features. Right now, he was a complete juxtaposition of his image on the field, assertive and lionhearted to now frightened and uncertain.

He’s not done yet. “I’ve always liked you, from the day we started talking. I wanted to love you properly, to take you out on nice dates and to be a boyfriend no one could ever compare to. I was just… scared.” The Michael Kaiser admitting to fear was something new. “Scared of ending up as a disappointing lover or you never reciprocating. I ran away yesterday because I was a coward. But I don’t want to stay as one. I refuse to."

Kaiser continues. “It feels unreal, the idea of you liking me back when you’re so perfect. You’ve always been mature, diligent, and hardworking, your future seemed so bright with how academically proficient you were. At the time I was so unsure of myself and felt so inferior, it doesn’t justify anything I’ve done but I wanted to rather hurt instead of being hurt.”

“You, think I’m perfect…?” It’s such an innocent question. The praise seemed to melt away the resentment accumulated within your heart, and momentarily you forget wanting to leave.

“Of course, I do.” There’s still the same vulnerability in his expression, but this time it’s complemented with a soft smile. “I mean, look at you. You always got the top marks, and you’ve achieved a dream of entering the psychology field. I still love what you wrote about PSTD.”

How did he know that?

“I never mentioned my job.” He still remembers that one piece you wrote, a task that your English teacher had given. You were allowed to write anything you wanted to, and that was the birth of that PTSD essay, which Kaiser had found impressive for the level of detail it had.

“Your books state it.”

And how does he know about those too? You used a pen name for privacy and to avoid any attention to your personal life and loved ones.

“I never mentioned being an author.”

“You certainly did last night. I quote ‘you should read my book’.”

Wait.

A wave of realization crashed over you, the poor individual you complained to about Michael Kaiser was Michael Kaiser himself. Now the memories are flooding in, the declarations of hate, the miserable murmuring, and your stupidly embarrassing behaviour.

But even after recalling all the events and details of that night, you don’t remember providing a title and your pen name. It’s a complete secret, not even Yoichi or your own family know.

“I didn’t tell you the novel name though?”

Kaiser’s now grinning, but there’s still the soft feel to demeanor. “I’m a bit of a fan. ‘Where the Sea and the Horizon Meet’ is my favourite." It’s the book you wrote about him.

“But how did you know I wrote it?” Anyone can write about their tragic first love and the bitter yet beautiful saccharinity it entails. Your pen name didn’t allude to your legal one in any manner, and you dismissed any questions that interviews that attempted to intrude into your personal life.

“Because I instantly knew it was about you, about us. I’d never forget that day, right before English. When wanted to tell you I loved you since it was so pretty that day. I missed bothering you. I missed you.”

He actually remembered?

All this time you had assumed it was a memory that had been sitting at the back of his mind, only to be forgotten so easily after a couple of years.

You don’t say anything. It’s so confusing and overwhelming, the person who hurt you did it out of the fear of hurt, yet still missed you.

“You didn’t forget?”

“No. You were the first and only person I’ve ever loved.”

First… and only too?

You hadn’t shown any signs of auditory hallucinations recently, right?

Even though he himself just said it, it’s still a fever dream to you, unreal and fictitious.

Did you hear that right? You’re the first and only person he’s ever loved; all those touching memories were real, that heartfelt proclamation of love wasn’t fake.

Despite Kaiser’s confession to being in love with you, there was the tiny part of you that was still convinced that you were dreaming; that none of was real.

Because someone who completely destroyed you so long ago shouldn’t be able to waltz back in so easily.

Yet every part of you is begging for him to come back.

You haven’t said anything for a while, only lost in the storm of thoughts while trying to navigate the seas of your emotions.

“Same.” You whisper, you wish you had said something more than a simple agreement, but it’s all you can muster. And it’s true. No one else had been that loving with you. “I don’t hate you. I hate the pain I felt.” You take back your claim, and he looks like he’s received the best news of his life, relief washing over his features.

“I know, which is why, I would never do again. That’s if, if you’re willing to give me another chance.” He finally has the courage to hold your hand with his own, fingers ghosting over your knuckles. “I want to love you. Again. This time properly, and until I learn how to do perfectly.”

There’s an undeniable fear of you have of vulnerability and love, yet the offer is so tempting.

Is the risk really worth it?

You’ve always depended on logic and rationality to make decisions, and here, it’s clear that trusting someone who hurt you isn’t a smart idea. It’s common sense, but something about him makes you want to oppose your usual ideals; to get hurt over and over again until something works, to finally break down the walls you’ve miserably built, and to expose your heavily guarded heart.

“I love you y/n.”

It doesn’t the possess the same grandeur it did that day, years ago, but it still conveyed the same passion, laced with his true feelings for you.

Only this time, you say it back.

“I love you too… Michael.”

“Am I allowed to kiss you again?”

You permit his request, pressing your lips against his, and it tastes just as saccharine and tempting, but this time it’s now garnished with satisfaction.

“Congratulations on your wedding, Kaiser!”

A smile tugs at his lips as his teammates congratulate him, well pleased with how the event had been turning out so far. His parents were overjoyed about you and the occasion, and everything was running smoothly.

It’s been around three years since you had given him another chance.

You looked flawless, the outfit you chose complemented all your tones (though he’d argue that any colour and shade would’ve looked beautiful on you).

Kaiser couldn’t find the right words to describe how euphoric he felt. The closest to this happiest he’s ever gotten was when you accepted his proposal.

He's relieved and buzzing with a sense of pride. Not the typical, cocky kind, but the kind of proud where he’d be able to happily tell his younger self about all of this, that it all works out in the end, that he eventually makes up for his actions; that he ends up marrying his long time crush.

Everyone was happy, at least, except for one person.

“I can’t fucking believe you’d date and marry this man.”

Kaiser snickers at Yoichi, someone who he’s been competing against constantly and has been his rival for years but is also your best friend.

“I swear, he’s not that bad. But I understand if you’re disappointed.”

“Excuse me, I’m the perfect boyfriend and husband.”

“Oi, did you hear something? Must’ve been a fly. Didn’t expect any here.” Michael’s jaw drops at being ignored by Yoichi.

“Shit, I’ve forgotten the bug repellent, my bad. My mother might’ve brought some.” Michael lets out an exaggerated gasp at the betrayal.

“You guys are so mean.” You and Yoichi grin at his faux pout.

“Well,” Yoichi begins to slip away. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone; I’m going to go say hi to Kunigami and Hiori again. Kaiser I’ll kill you if you ever hurt y/n.” He waves a small bye to you before running off.

“Someone seems to trust you a lot.”

“I- “Before Michael can try to defend himself and respond with a witty comment, your nephew interrupts, with his parents following from behind.

“y/n! Congratulations!” He comes running towards you with a bouquet, so big that it was almost the size of him, it’s a miracle how he’s able to carry it. You quickly accept, hoping that it wasn’t a hassle for him to bring it.

“Thank you. How’d you carry these? They’re too big for you.”

“He insisted.” Your bother replies to you, his wife nodding. “He said he wanted to be the ones to give them.”

A hand playfully ruffles his hair. “Thanks bud.” Even after years he still has the same kindness and enthusiasm.

“We’re going to say hi to everyone, are you coming?”

“Can I talk to Michael and y/n more?” They nod, reminding him to be polite and greet everyone afterwards.

“I can’t believe you’re dating the Michael Kaiser though.” Kaiser stands with pride at your nephew’s disbelief, about to make a confident statement until your nephew continues. “You better behave properly, you clown.”

Again, Michael’s jaw drops and the sight has you biting your lip to avoid laughing uncontrollably. Your nephew runs off to his parents, saying that he wants to see his grandparents.

“Since when did he talk like Yoichi?” He nudges you, still shocked at being called a clown again. “He even waited for his parents to go. And he ran off immediately. ”

“No idea, but I like it.”

“Of course, you do…” He takes a few moments to stare at you, dazed by your beauty and seemingly in a trance. “You’re stunning.”

“What’s with that suddenly?”

“It’s not sudden, you’ve always been cute. And pretty. And just perfect in general.”

“Someone’s cheesy.” But your smile is out of control.

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Giving me a second chance.” The morning you woke up in his hotel room comes to mind, and although you were conflicted on whether to let him back into your life again or not, you don’t regret anything.

“Liebling, I’m truly forever grateful for it.” His hand takes yours, planting a kiss on your knuckles.

Because it’s been amazing with him. From the small yet sweet things like how he'd pay attention to literally everything about you, and remember every time detail about you to his grand proposal by the beach, the one that was located near your high school, the one outside of the window when he first declared he loved you. You adored it all; the connection you and him had that no one else would ever understand, to how the sun sunk into the sea, breathtakingly beautiful. Even the aftermath of arguments because he always refused to deal with them immaturely, knowing the consequences of not doing things right better than anyone else. The mere thought of you crying could bring him down to his knees.

Now, if someone were to ask you about Kaiser you'd end up stumped, thinking of all his actions of love, from always defending you no matter what, even if it's him against the world and the media, to how he constantly teases you (he never shuts up about how you assumed you had slept with him when you woke up in his hotel room.) He's your everything, your boyfriend, lover, your own proof reader and soon to be husband.

Now, you'd describe him as your favourite, someone you adore beyond what words could capture, not even your experience as an author could ever change that.

“I love you, so so much. I would die for you Liebe.” Kaiser eagerly kisses you, and no matter how many times he does you never get sick of how he tasted, or how soft and tender they were.

“I love you too Mihya.” You breathe out, crimson dusted all over your face as you’re panting in between words.

He really wasn’t lying when he said wanted to love you properly.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #michael kaiser angst #michael kaiser #alexis ness #michael kaiser x you #fluff #second chance romance #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x y/n #hurt to comfort #bllk x you #bllk angst #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you

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sissylittlefeather · 9 months

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A/N: Ha HA! Another one done! This is the 68 Special one that I promised y'all after the poll. It goes with my series that is currently unnamed, but includes Baby, What's Your Name, Goodnight, Sweetheart and Always, Honey. There are references to all three in here. It takes place before What Kind of Question is That? and Feels Like Forever. This is angstyyy, but the way the story is in my brain, the mid section is that way and the whole story is kind of tragic, in a way. It's very Catherine/Heathcliff (they should be together but can't be for some reason). I didn't set out to write a tragic story, but there ya go. It is what it is. I hope y'all like it anyway!

Also, don't be shy. Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear from you 😁

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, kissing, ANGST

Also, I'm using Elvis gifs for this one because I like actual EP here, but if it makes you happy to imagine Austin!Elvis, do you boo-boo.

I Missed You

It's been over 3 years since you last saw Elvis. This is the longest you've been apart since you met all those years ago. You haven't seen him since he got married or became a father. He did all of those things without you and it nearly broke you. Still, you'd had your own marriage happen and fall apart, too. You wondered if you'd ever tell him that it was because of him and the fact that you never could seem to stop loving him.

The year is 1968 and you just got off the phone with a friend of yours who works in Hollywood. According to her, Elvis is going to be recording a new show soon and they're looking for audience members. She called to see if you might be interested in seeing an old friend.

No one really knows what you had with Elvis. Well, no one but your old roommate. Still, despite your long history, he never made you public like his other girlfriends. Maybe it's because keeping you a secret made the romance hotter. Or maybe it's because keeping you a secret meant he could keep you all to himself. Either way, your love affair had always been something that only the two of you really knew about.

But an opportunity to see Elvis again is hard to turn down, even with everything that's happened between you. Perhaps seeing him one last time will give you the closure you need to move on. You decide to call your friend back and see what you need to do to be in that audience.

******

Now that you're here, you start to wonder if this was a good idea. You're sitting in the audience in your new mod-style pink gingham dress with white boots and a white headband. You wonder if he will even see you in the crowd. Will he notice the pink gingham?

Your hands are starting to sweat and you wipe them on your skirt, pulling on it to try to get it to cover more of your thighs. You're not a teenager anymore and this dress is starting to feel a bit ridiculous.

One of the producers of the show comes out to explain to the audience how to react to the "applause" signs. Elvis is coming out soon and you're starting to feel a little sick at the prospect of seeing him. You don't remember the last time you were this nervous.

And then he's there. On the small square stage, right in front of you, in black leather. Your heart jumps and your warm center gets a little warmer. He looks good. Not that you expected him not to, but he looks better than you could've imagined. He breaks into That's Alright Mama and you're instantly transported back to that first show where you threw your panties on the stage to get his attention. You start to laugh a little thinking about what might happen if you did the same thing right now. You'd probably get carried out by a security guard.

He sings 4 songs and then they do a set change to him sitting down with his old band mates for a kind of casual jam session. You're still waiting for him to notice that you're there. Part of you is starting to hope that he'll never notice and you can just slink back onto a plane and go home. Seeing him has enlivened every feeling you've ever had for him and you can't help but have flashbacks to every time he's ever touched you. You long to feel his strong hands on your body, his lips on yours, his fingers and tongue doing unspeakable things between your legs. You squeeze your legs together and pray that you're not going to leave a puddle on your seat.

And then it happens. He's walking around the stage singing again and he kneels just feet from you. You're in the second row, far enough back to be out of reach, but close enough to be visible. He looks out into the audience and your eyes meet. Ever the professional performer, he only freezes for a second when he sees you. You feel like someone dumped ice water down your back and it's suddenly hard to breathe. You want to get up and run out, but you can't. And just when you think he's completely unaffected by you, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. Then he stands up, turns away from you, and keeps singing.

But he comes back.

He walks around the stage like he's supposed to, but he always comes back to you and keeps his eyes locked onto yours for as long as possible before he has to move. Every time it happens, your heart skips a beat and you start to wonder how much more you can take. Just when you think you might melt from the intensity of his gaze, he leaves the stage and the producer comes back and says that filming is done for the day.

You sit there for a while and let the other people around you file out. Eventually you get up and head for the exit. You're one of the last people in the room as you head for the door. And then you hear someone behind you. You turn, expecting someone to tell you that you need to leave, but no.

It's him.

You stand and stare at each other for a good minute before he speaks. He asks a single question.

"Where can I find you later?"

You want to tell him to go to hell. Instead, you hear yourself say, "Hollywood Hilton, room 647."

He nods, turns, and jogs away from you back to wherever he came from. A man comes and ushers you out the exit door. You head back to your hotel in disbelief. You're not sure what you expected, but it wasn't that.

******

You're trying really hard to stop pacing in your hotel room. The clock on the night stand says 12:24am. You're still wearing the pink and white dress, mainly because you're too nervous to change into anything else, but you're barefooted now, your boots in a pile by the door. You tell yourself you are giving him until 1am and then you're going to bed. That's when you hear the knock on your door.

Your stomach tenses up and your heart jumps into your throat. You walk to the door and open it carefully. Elvis walks in quickly and closes it behind himself. You're reminded of the time he did that when you lived in the dorm and you almost laugh out loud.

"Who are you hiding from?"

"Everyone." He looks at you like no time has passed since the last time you were alone like this. He puts his hand on the side of your face and for a moment you let him. Then you move away from him.

"Don't."

"Honey, why--"

"You have a wife."

"And you have a husband. Never stopped us before."

"I don't have a husband anymore."

"All the more reason--"

"You married her, Elvis." He looks down at the floor.

"She has your baby. You're somebody's father."

"I know that."

"Then why did you come here?" He picks up your hand and kisses the inside of your palm, just like he did so many years before.

"I missed you." You want to take that hand and slap him with it. For a second, you really consider it. Instead, you pull it away from him and turn to face the window. If you look at him, you might give in.

He comes up behind you and touches your dress on your shoulder.

"You know I've always loved you in pink."

"It matches--"

"--the dress you wore on the first night. I remember."

That almost convinces you to turn around, but instead you shake his hand off your shoulder. You can't turn around. Not yet.

"Elvis, we said this was over."

"We've said that before."

"Yeah, but last time I thought we meant it."

He walks around in front of you and faces you. He seems afraid to touch you again.

"Baby, you know I could never mean it."

You cross your arms over your chest and look up at him. He looks different now, grown up and fully himself, but he's still the same boy from Memphis who said he would always be yours.

"No. Go home to your wife, Elvis."

You can see in his eyes that that stung. You immediately wish you hadn't said it, but you did and it wasn't untrue. He does have a wife to go home to and you have what? No one because you can't seem to move on from him. He's as much a part of you as you are of him.

"You know what you mean to me." You do know. But sometimes you just wish he would say the words.

You walk past him to the hotel room window and look out at the street below. They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but this town could give it a run for its money. There seems to be people everywhere. He speaks again, ripping you out of your reverie.

"You know, I could ask you the same question. Why did you come to my show?" You step back from the window and look up at the ceiling. That, you don't have an answer for. You're not even sure why you came. It's no use lying to him or yourself anymore. You turn to face him with tears in your eyes.

"I missed you."

It only takes him three steps to walk across the room and pull you into a deep and passionate kiss, his arms around you to keep you from pulling away. You know you should pull away, but you don't even try. You melt into him like snow in the rain, your mouths picking up a rhythm easily. Kissing him is familiar and satisfying and you begin to wonder why you ever stopped. You wrap your arms around his neck and let yourself get lost in him. He walks you backwards to the dresser and then lifts you up so that you're sitting on it. He runs both hands up your thighs and then grabs your hips, pulling them into his own. You break the kiss and moan softly into his mouth as you feel his hardness press into you. In a second, he has the dress up, over your head, and off. Your fingers shake as you undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and push it off of his shoulders with his jacket, letting them both fall to the floor. The whole time, he's kissing you on the neck, on your chest, and shoulder, and jawline, and lips. It almost feels like he's trying to devour you whole. In fact, he bites the skin next to your collarbone at one point hard enough that you let out a small yelp. He knows you well enough to know that's a good sound. You grab the back of his hair and pull his head backward, diving into a deep kiss with heavy tongue. He almost breaks your bra, trying to rip it off of you and your panties don't stand a chance as he tears at them and throws them to the side. The button pops off of his pants as you feverishly try to get them off of him. He slides them off his hips and to the floor, letting his erection free to land against your thigh. The sight and feel of it there elicits a moan from your mouth and a good deal of wetness from between your legs. He pulls you to the edge of the dresser and pushes himself inside you. He slams into you heatedly and you both start to sweat. You can feel your climax building around him as he pumps. He's still kissing you all over your face and neck, dipping his tongue into your mouth periodically. Your hands grip his back as your fingernails dig into his skin. As many times as you've been together, it's never felt like this before. There's a desperation and need in both of you that's completely new. You wrap your legs around him and he carries you to the bed, still inside of you. You fuck for a while with him on top of you, until you push him into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Then, you turn away from him and lower yourself onto him, holding onto his thighs for support. While you slide up and down on him, he reaches forward and makes circles with his finger on the spot between your legs that makes you cry out his name.

"Elvis, fuck!" You scream as your climax pounds into you from every angle, rushing through you from your center to your edges and back again. You turn around and push him back onto the bed. He moves himself backwards until he's fully on the bed and you can ride him easily. You're grinding your hips against him, so that he is so deep inside of you. Nothing seems to be deep enough to satisfy you tonight. You want to swallow him up and keep him there inside you. He moans and grunts while you work, obviously approaching his climax. He flips you over one last time and thrusts into you a few times before he shudders and cusses and fills you with his warmth. You're both dripping wet with sweat and covered in marks from the other's teeth and fingernails. He rolls over off of you and lays next to you, both of you breathing heavily. He picks up your hand and kisses your fingers.

"Oh, honey, I have missed you so much." He smiles at you and holds your hand on his chest. You get up and go to the bathroom, trying to forget that you just committed adultery with him. Again. When you come back, you get some panties out of your suitcase and put them on. Then, you climb back into bed, where he's arranged himself as if he's going to sleep there.

"Don't you... have to... go?" You ask tentatively. You think of his wife, probably pacing her room waiting for him to come home.

"No." He doesn't give any more detail and you don't ask. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close to him. "I'm staying here." He kisses the side of your head.

It feels so good to have him wrapped around you again. This won't be the last time you're together.

He waits until he thinks you're asleep, and you almost are, when he whispers,

"I love you, baby."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist: @itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101

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bratzforchris · 6 months

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The House That Built Me Us

❃

Summary: In which you buying rockstar Luke Hemmings childhood home leads to a much deeper connection. Songfic inspired by "The House That Built Me" by Miranda Lambert <3

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x feminine reader

Warnings: Smut, protected p in v, vanilla sex, making out, hickeys, slightly angsty Luke, overall just really a sweet and fluffy smut/romance fic :)

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: I'm not usually a big country music fan, but this is one of the first songs I learned to play on guitar as a kid, so I'm soft for it <3 Thank you for reading!

❃

Luke sighed as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, eyes glassing over as he gazed at the red stoplight above his head. He let his thoughts wander, thinking about why he was doing this. Maybe it was everything that had gone on in the last few months, or maybe everything that had gone down after the Sounds Live, Feels Live tour was just getting to his head. Either way, he found himself anxiously waiting for the stoplights of suburban Sydney to turn green.

The blond thought back to his conversation with Ashton before he’d left for Australia, recalling his friend’s words. Ashton was always the most level-headed one of the band, so naturally, he had been the first to suggest that Luke return to his roots amidst his stress. In Luke’s mind, he had moved away; he couldn’t go back to that suburb. It held too many memories, some for good and some for worse. But like always, Ashton’s reasoning had won over Luke’s chaotic mind.

“Luke, you’ve got to do something.” the honey-blond pleaded, staring down at his friend as Luke laid, wrapped in blankets, in the dark of Ashton’s guest room.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do, Ash?” he’d snapped. “Pretend that I’m fine nad everything is great when I don’t fucking know how to go on living?”

Ashton sighed, sitting beside Luke on the bed. “I know. I know that it is so, so hard right now. But I also know how strong you are, Luke.”

Luke began to sob at Ashton’s kind words, shoving his face into the older male’s chest and just letting it all out. The stress of everything; the way he’d been forced to work like a damn animal despite his loss, the way he’d let her take advantage of him for so long, the way 5 Seconds of Summer was getting absolutely blasted from all sides by the media outlets.

“...would some closure help?” Ashton whispered.

“What do you mean?” Luke asked, wiping his blue eyes that had significantly dulled with the heel of his hand.

“Well, what if you got some closure about everything that happened…y’know,” Ash mumbled, trying not to let the name engulf Luke’s temporary room in a cloud of grief. “What I’m saying is, what if you went back to Australia? Doesn’t matter how long; a week, a month, three. Go visit your childhood home. Remember why you’re doing this. LA will kill you if you don’t get out.

“Maybe you’re right,” Luke trailed off, his friend’s words settling over him. “I just. I can’t.”

“You can, Luke,” Ashton reassured him. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. Go back, see how you feel, go from there. You’re only 20, dude. Corny as it sounds, the world is yours.”

Luke had smiled at that, enjoying Ashton’s warm embrace. Once the honey-blond had left the room, Luke pulled out his laptop, scouring various travel sites for flights to Sydney.

The blond snapped back to the present as the light flicked green, pressing his foot to the pedal, zooming off before the rest of the cars. The inconspicuous Honda Civic he’d rented didn’t have great pickup, but Luke didn’t mind. Driving anything felt great after having his life dictated for so long. Maybe that’s why he was here, on this journey. He wanted to have the kind of control over his own life that he hadn’t had since he was sixteen and 5 Seconds of Summer signed with Modest!.

It wasn’t long before Luke reached the more suburban part of the city, the wind whipping his slight curls as he flew through the back roads. “I need a haircut.” he thought for a moment, before shoving it away with the wind. This was his time, not management’s. He could do what he wanted. The blond bit his lip anxiously as he turned onto the street. The street that he had called home for sixteen years; the one he hadn’t been back to since 2013. It was almost bittersweet as he turned into the gravel driveway. The house held so many memories, but they were a combination of good and bad. He could almost see him wrestling with Ben and Jack in the yard, but he could also picture the thought of ringing that doorbell, and it wouldn’t be his mother opening the door.

Luke’s curiosity overcame his melancholy, though, when he saw a white, Volkswagen Beetle sitting in front of the brick house. He quickly threw the car into park behind the vehicle, stepping out of his own car and surveying the house. There were still flowers in the window planters, but this time they were marigolds instead of daisies. The front yard was well-kept with the shrubs trimmed and various flowers planted. “Mum would be proud.” he chuckled in his mind, growing slightly sad at the image of Liz that crossed through his mind. The most prominent thing Luke noticed, though, was that the front door was painted hot, neon pink.

“There’s no way…” he mumbled to himself, walking up the steps to the front of the house.

As he walked, Luke smiled when he passed the imprints of his tiny hands on the front steps from when they’d had to redo the concrete when he was four. The pink door did get a good laugh out of him. His mum had wanted to have a pink door for years, but every time his dad, Andrew, refused, saying that a pink door was much too girly for a house with four boys in it. At the time, little Luke had agreed, but now, he had to admit that the pink suited the light brick of the house well.

The blond gathered his courage, pausing before his fist hit the wood of the door to knock. What was he supposed to say? Judging on the appearance of the house, the owner seemed to be rather friendly, but how would they react to a random stranger showing up, claiming they used to live here. Luke shrugged it off, gathering his courage and shaking his shoulders out. He quickly knocked twice, listening for any sounds of life inside the house. Soon enough, he heard the sound of a bark, followed by a sniffling noise at the door, and then human feet.

“Tunia, down.” a voice from inside said.

Luke wondered how large the dog was, but he didn’t get much time to think, because the door opened immediately after. You stared at the stranger on the other side of the door, but he wasn’t a stranger at all to you. You just couldn’t believe he was at your house.

“I…Luke Hemmings?” You sputtered out.

“Hi?” he questioned, wondering how you already knew his damn name, then kicking himself for not realizing. “Hey, I’m sorry if this is weird, but I used to live here and…”

You cut him off, swinging the door open wider to look him up and down, which allowed a white bulldog, who Luke asked was ‘Tunia’ to sniff his ankles. “What the fuck?” You chuckled. “There’s no way.”

“You know me?” he asked, rather confused, despite his celebrity status.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “Dude, you’re only in like, one of the biggest bands of the past few years.”

“Oh, uh, right, yeah…” Luke said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “So, you’re like, a superfan?” he asked.

“Mmmm, you could say that,” You shrugged nonchalantly, flipping your hair over your shoulder. “Is this What Would You Do or something?”

“No,” the blond stated. “It’s more like an insanely long story. This is my house. Like from when I was a kid. I was just wondering if I could walk around for a bit and then I swear I’ll leave.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes and pulling your bulldog back from Luke’s ankles. “Yeah, right. And I’m the President of the US. This has been a weirdly charming encounter, but I need to go.”

Luke placed his foot in the doorway just as you were about to close it, a look of need etching itself into his features. “I promise I can tell you this is real. Go up the stairs to the bedroom at the back of the house. It should’ve been light blue with pink speakers when you moved in. That one was mine. It’s where me and the guys started writing our first EP. That oak tree over there,” he cocked his head towards a tree at the far end of the yard. “My childhood dog, Molly, is buried there. I know this is really weird and probably really unsettling for you, but please.” he practically begged.

You’d been teasing him for fun when you told Luke that you were a “superfan”, but now, you could see why teenage girls all over the world had fallen for him in the last few years. His begging blue eyes, along with his blond hair that was plastered to his forehead with sweat gave Luke an almost boyish innocence, while his black lip ring and overall choice of attire spoke that he was definitely a bad boy. Thinking that, you paused, opening the door a little wider once more.

“Fine. You got me,” You sighed playfully. “What’s your reason for being back here anyway? You know, when most people get back, they don’t go back to where they came from.”

Luke gnawed on his lip ring, averting his eyes from yours. “It’s a long story…”

“I have time,” You shrugged, stepping outside and closing the door behind you. “Shoot.” You told him, beckoning him to sit beside you on the concrete steps.

Luke obliged, squatting next to you and sighing. “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen it in the news,” he started. “We’re not getting great publicity right now.”

You nodded, giving him a look to encourage him to keep talking. “Go on.”

“There’s that and then…the reason this house went on the market in the first place is because Mum died and Dad just couldn’t keep up with it anymore,” Luke blew a puff of air from his lips. “Ash said I needed to get out of LA before it killed me, whatever that means.”

“I can understand that.” You said, looking up at Luke honestly, noticing the way he smiled softly at the eye contact.

“I dunno, I guess I thought if maybe I just came back one last time, I could find closure. I’m someone else out here. Have you ever experienced that feeling? When you go home, you can just be you. You don’t have to be who your boss or your friends or anyone else thinks you are. I thought that maybe just remembering what my life was like out here would kinda heal my brokenness, y’know?” he asked. “I was serious when I said I only wanted to take a look and then I would leave. I think I just need a memory to remind me of why I’m doing this. The whole “famous” thing, that is.”

You carefully placed a hand on Luke’s knee, watching his face to see what he would do. “That really sounds like a lot. But I think that’s something only you can figure out for yourself.”

You were surprised when Luke smiled back at you, the small grin dotting his slightly scruffy beard. Something was distracting you, though, and it was the small, black lip ring that graced his plump, pink lips. You almost wondered what it would be like to kiss Luke and feel the cool metal against your skin, but quickly shoved the thought away. Luke was here because he seemed almost depressed. The last thing he probably wanted was someone who was a fan wanting to kiss him.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked quickly, trying to rid yourself of the blush and the dirty thoughts that had taken residence in you.

“You’ll let me?” Luke asked, like he wanted to believe you, but he didn't want to get too hopeful.

“Mhm,” You nodded, standing up and brushing off your pants. “Come on, pretty boy.” You joked.

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” the blond asked, cocking his brow with a smirk.

“Every girl thinks that. Get over yourself.” You chuckled, but there was a hint of truth to your words.

Luke blushed at your words, following you into the house once you opened the door. He stood in the foyer for a moment, slowly spinning in a circle while taking everything in. Somehow, everything had changed and nothing had changed at the same time. “You really are just like my mum.” he chuckled.

“Is that a compliment?” You asked him, wondering about the original owner of the house.

“Yeah…” Luke sighed, a wistful look in his eyes. “My mum was fuckin’ awesome.”

You touched Luke’s arm gently, eyeing him up and down. To you, he didn’t seem like the celebrity rockstar that he was. You could see the little boy in his eyes, the one that was somehow still hoping that having his mother ripped away from him was a cruel dream. “Can I say something?”

The blond nodded without speaking, continuing to wander further into the house as you followed him. You could see the awe in his face as he touched random knick-knacks, both yours and ones you had kept from when you bought the house. You weren’t quite sure if Luke was listening, but you spoke nonetheless.

“The way this house was built and decorated is kinda what swayed me to buy it…” You admitted shyly. “It was nice to see a family home with feminine elements. I’d like to have that someday.” You smiled.

“Yeah?” Luke asked, turning to look at you. “My mum had that exact same dream for years. She cut photos out of the home and garden magazines for so long. My dad was determined to give her what she wanted, so they built this place right after my older brother was born. She really wanted a pink front door, so I’m glad you followed through.” he laughed.

You smiled at him, watching as he wandered through the house with an almost boyish wonder. “You really love this place, huh?”

Luke nodded as he stopped at the base of the stairs. “I mean, yeah. I grew up here. From the day Mum brought me home from the hospital til the day I left for London,” a look of sadness ghosted the blond’s face for a moment. “I left too early.”

“Who would’ve thought that this is what a celebrity in your, or I guess their, house is like,” You laughed. “Sorry. That was weird.” You snorted, falling into a fit of giggles.

He looked at you for a moment, watching as you hunched over laughing, your freckled nose scrunched cutely. Your wavy hair was falling in your face from laughing so hard, but it was probably the most adorable, and maybe even hot, thing he’d ever seen. Wait. Did he think you were hot? Luke shook his head to clear the thought, beginning to laugh, your joy infecting him.

Once you two had gotten over your fit of giggles, you looked up at Luke just in time to see him gnawing on his lip ring. To chase any pesky thoughts of what having sex with him would be like, and to ignore the growing ball of heat in your tummy, you nodded up the stairs. “You said something about a blue bedroom with pink speakers earlier?”

Luke ran a hand through his hair, looking down at you from his 6’4” height. “Yeah. Why?”

“C’mon, I’ll show you.” You took the blond’s hand, dragging him up the stairs behind you.

To you, Luke didn’t feel like some sort of superstar. He almost felt like your childhood best friend that you’d known all your life. The one that lived across the street as you grew up together. Maybe that’s why you didn’t hesitate to practically run through the house with him trailing behind you on gangly limbs, laughing just as hard.

You threw open your bedroom door, arms out wide and spinning around. “Ta da. Do you like it? Or are you too posh for this now?”

“You turned this into your bedroom?” he asked, raising a brow. “You didn’t take the master suite?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. I just felt a stronger connection to this one, I guess. Now I know why.” You winked, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to you for Luke to do the same.

Luke smiled softly, tentatively sitting down beside you. “You’re cute.” he giggled softly, freckled nose blushing red as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help noticing the way your body lit up at his touch. “I bet you say that to every girl.”

“I don’t, actually,” Luke whispered. “Only the ones I like.”

Before you knew it, the blond was leaning over to kiss you, his plump, warm lips meeting your own with a gentle “hello”. You gasped softly at the sudden, but extremely pleasurable sensation taking over your body. You kissed Luke back just as passionately, slowly reaching up to tangle your fingers in his strawberry-blond hair. You two continued to make out for a moment, you inching towards Luke’s lap until he suddenly pulled back.

“I…I’m sorry,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I dunno why I did that,” Luke rubbed the back of his neck as he turned cherry red. “I didn’t even ask, I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh,” You placed a finger over the blond’s lips. “Don’t talk.” You began to kiss Luke again, scooting into his lap so that you were straddling him.

The blond took that as his que, because he began to kiss you back, more heated than before. Before long, he rolled so that you were laying back against the bed with him on top of you. “Is this the bed that was in the house when you bought it?” Luke asked, laughing softly as the mattress creaked under your bodies.

“Yeah,” You admitted with a giggle. “I was broke after buying the house, okay?”

Luke laughed, kissing you once more before beginning to softly suckle on the sweet spot behind your ear, making you let out a small gasp. You wriggled under his grasp, panting.

“Oh god, Luke.” You whined.

“You like that?” he asked, leaving another hickey on your neck.

You nodded as Luke trailed his way down your body with his warm, ringed fingers, humming softly about how beautiful you were. When he reached the button of your jeans, he paused, looking down at you with wide, blue eyes. “Is this alright?” he asked, slowly moving off of you so he could unbutton your jeans.

You nodded quickly, gasping at the feeling of his skin on your own. “Yes.” You panted out.

Luke slowly unbuttoned your jeans, smirking when he looked at your lacy, white underwear. “Did you know I was coming?”

You shook your head with an immense blush, whining as he slid your jeans and panties off. “Want you to fuck me.”

“That was fast,” the blond grinned, lifting your shirt to press a kiss to your stomach. “I love it.”

He rubbed his hands across your stomach, leaving small kisses as he ran along your ribcage and up to the clasp of your bra. Luke slowly helped you lift your arms so that he could pull your top and bra off, smiling at how beautiful you looked under him and completely naked. As he hovered over you, you tugged slightly at his belt and black skinny jeans, fluttering your lashes at him.

“I was serious about having sex with you, y’know.”

Luke didn’t need to be told twice. The blond practically ripped his shirt and pants off, making out with you again. He had had the taste of your body against his own, and now he couldn’t get enough of it, especially when you were both naked and slightly heated from the exertion.

“Do ya have a condom?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

You moved to pull one out of your bedside table, giggling at the whine Luke let out when your body was no longer pressed against his, especially with the loss of contact to his growing erection. You pulled a condom out of your nightstand, rolling back over and handing it to Luke.

“Girls are always prepared.” You said, leaving a kiss on his cheek.

At your words, Luke rolled the rubber onto his throbbing dick, positioning you just so. “Mmmm, you’re already so wet for me. Don’t even need lube.” the blond hummed, running his thumb across your damp slit.

You gasped at the feeling of Luke’s fingers against your sensitive hole, wrapping your hands across his bare back. “Just do it already.” You whined.

Luke lined himself up with your hole, inserting only his tip as he watched you gasp out at how big he was. “Are you ready?”

You nodded quickly, trying to pull yourself closer to him. “Please.”

The blond slowly slid into you, smirking at the way your face etched with a grunt at the feeling of trying to accommodate his length. He began to ride you gently, admiring your face as you started scratching along his back. You were already crying out with pleasure and he hadn’t even started riding you fully yet.

Luke began to ride you faster, enjoying the sound of his balls slapping against your ass as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You two hadn’t even been at it long, but the blond was practically ruining you. His heavy moans and pants filled the room, along with the squeaks of the mattress as you cried out.

“Oh god, Lu. Need to cum.” You whined, moving your hands from his back to his hair.

Your breath had become ragged at this point, coming in short gasps and pants. Luke was squeezing your thighs with his hands, burying his face in your neck and leaving hickeys along you as he pumped harder into you. Your eyes were fluttering open and shut at the overwhelming sensation of Luke.

It must’ve been fate, or maybe just how good the blond was making you feel, but somehow, you both came at the same time, yelling out as your orgasms hit you. Your moans filled the room as you both collapsed back against the bed, breathing heavily. You were silent for a few moments, enjoying the aftermath of that wonderful sex. Luke slid the condom off, tying it up and disposing of it in the can beside your bed.

“I think that’s the most passionate sex I’ve ever had.” You whispered into the bedroom, still quite enjoying the slick feeling of your cum against your thighs.

Luke rolled over onto his side so he could look at you. “Well, I’d like to think I’m a professional.” he smirked.

“Mmmm,” You whined, snuggling into his side. “I think so.”

Luke kissed your forehead, admiring your beauty for a moment. “Y/N?” he asked quietly. “Do ya wanna…nevermind.” he hummed.

“What?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” You poked his chest. “What’s up?”

“Do ya wanna be my girlfriend?” he asked shyly.

You kissed Luke’s face, once again enjoying the sensation of his lip ring. “Yes.”

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded and kissed him once more, cuddling back into his chest. “Yep. I think you’re funny and cute and quite talented. In multiple facets.” You giggled.

Luke smiled, running a hand through your hair. “First thing we’re doing is getting you a new bed.” he laughed, listening as the mattress squeaked every time you two moved.

“I could go for that.” You smiled sleepily, the feeling of Luke holding you making you relaxed.

“Night night, Y/N.” Luke said with a whispered smile as you fell asleep in his arms.

The blond didn’t know what was going to happen in his life from here, but he did know he wanted you to be a part of it. The girl brought to him by fate.

… 5 years later

Luke held you bridal style, carrying you over the doorstep and into the home.

“Don’t drop me!” You squealed, clinging to his suit.

“Wow, you have no faith in me.” the blond chuckled sarcastically, carrying you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

You laughed, kissing Luke heavily. “I never said.”

“What do you say we recreate that day from five years ago?” he hummed, setting you on the bed.

“I think that sounds perfectly wonderful,” You grinned, undoing Luke’s tie. “Especially now that we have a new mattress.”

Luke kissed your head as he slowly slid your wedding dress off. “This house built me, and I am so beyond excited to see the way it builds us and our family,” he smiled, planting a kiss on your neck. “I love you, Mrs. Y/N Hemmings.”

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themanip · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 ↝ 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

GENRE — romance, fluff, smut PAIRING — hotchner x afab!reader WORD COUNT — 5.4k+ WARNINGS — unprotected sex, softdom!hotch, lots of aftercare, breathplay, oral (m&f), spanking (use of belt), vv respectful!hotch, loss of virginity, degrading names, daddy kink if you squint, p in v, discussion of safeword, lots of communication, hair pulling, cuddling, all the cute stuff, time jumps!

Aaron Hotchner was an honest man, and often a quiet one. Until you two finally got comfortable together, which was around the two month mark of dating. He was, of course, open with you before that. It just wasn't him, and he was nervous to open himself up like that.

He was nervous about a lot of things, but you would sheepishly insist that he just own up to it. The blushes his cheeks would light up with made your stomach fill with butterflies, and left a slight smile on your face. He was hot in every way possible, but looking at him right now, he was the most adorable man you'd ever seen.

"That was a pretty blunt question," he laughed out, leaning back against the couch.

Moments before, you had asked him when was an appropriate time for you two to have sex. "Do you mean like during the day or in the context of our relationship?" This made you laugh lightly as well.

You two were cuddled on his couch, and thankfully alone for the night as Jack was at a sleepover. Your hand was on his knee, and his slung over your back as you were cuddling. "I mean, in general... I think."

Aaron nodded, before you got nervous and kind of rambled. "Although don't most people have sex at night? I've heard people who have sex a lot kind of do it whenever, wherever, though. So I'm not sure I'd ever ask the other version of that question."

At this point, a smile held on his face as he turned his head towards you. This conversation clearly made you nervous, and he didn't want you to be. However, that didn't mean you being flustered wasn't super adorable.

His once still hand rubbed your back soothingly, and your eyes now searched his beautiful brown ones. "Well," he sighed, and your heart beat into your chest. "I suppose it's whenever you are comfortable enough and want to do it, there is no timeline. Some people have one-night stands that turn into relationships, and some people wait for marriage."

You nodded gently, and laying your head back onto his chest, getting closure to your question. "And when you're comfortable too, not just me," you mumbled into his chest.

"Sweetheart, I have trusted you and been comfortable enough with you for a bit now," his thumb was now swiping across your back more consistently, with a little more pressure. He was worried this statement would make you feel forced to do something, so he very quickly added in:

"However, we are in no rush. I love spending time with you, and learning everything about you. Getting to know your body and the pleasure portion of our relationship is in absolutely no rush, sweetheart. Please do not feel any pressure when I say that I am comfortable. We take this at your pace, no questions asked."

Your entire face was now dug into his chest, burning red. Not able to help yourself, you let out little giggles, taking the one hand not on his knee and holding it over your mouth.

"Here I am being all lovey-dovey and you're giggling," he laughed, kissing your forehead. "I'm sorry," you pushed out, with giggles taking over your whole body. "You're just so cute."

"Also, questions are important. I have to know what you like," you finished giggling and continued speaking, adjusting yourself to wrap your arms around his abdomen. "Do you mean what I like sexually? Or like my favorite color?"

"Your favorite color is emerald green, anyone could ask me that and I'd answer it no problem. Now if someone asked whether you're dominant in bed, I haven't got a clue."

Oh.

Oh..

"Do you want to talk about this? We can have a serious conversation about sex, if it's something you're comfortable with."

Your thighs were burning from rubbing them together so much, but the blanket over your lap was hiding that from Aaron. "Honestly, it's been on my mind a lot,"

"The conversation, I mean, not like, jumping your bones." you continued.

A smirk covered Aaron's face, and his fingers stopped rubbing your back. "So you're telling me you don't want to have sex? Or haven't thought about it?" he had such a shit eating grin on his face, and you could tell by his tone.

"Aaron, if you ever want to get in my pants you better take that shit-eating-grin off your face," you laughed, looking up at him.

A pause went by, and as you locked eyes, he leaned down gently and placed a kiss to your lips. It was a simple peck, but assurance that he was going at your speed.

"Okay, I'll go first. In my previous relationships, I was always pretty dominant, but it was mostly vanilla, casual, missionary. When I have stressful days, I definitely tend to be rougher. That doesn't mean I will, and if you need me to be gentle, I will absolutely oblige. I just notice my own habits if there is no preference given. I'm down to try pretty much anything except watersports or scat play, but I'm pretty open."

Wow, he thinks you want gentle.

"What have you liked in the past? Do you have any favorite positions? Any specific foreplay that really gets you off? Any fun kinks I should keep in mind?"

At this point, you were getting nervous.

You'd done stuff, sure, but only with guys your age. And never went all the way there. You'd wanted to, sure, but when a guy cannot give head or find the clit, there was no way he'd make sure you cum during sex. You weren't willing to risk that yet.

You untangled yourself from him, and scooched back slightly. You bit your lip, and sat sideways on the couch, facing him, criss-cross. "I have a confession." you sighed, and he turned towards you gently.

"Tell me, sweetheart,"

"I haven't had sex before. I definitely have an idea of what I like, though. If it isn't things you are into that's okay, too," you rambled once again, and a slight smile littered Aaron's face.

"That's okay. Whether or not you have had sex, this is still your pace. We go when you want to go," his voice was so soft, so gentle, and he grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

"Do you want to tell me what you do like? I want to know what makes my pretty little bird sing," he almost growled, his voice somehow still gentle. You blushed once again, and gripped his hand a little tighter. "I really like pain."

"Pain? So, a little masochist. Okay," he smiled, "what kind of pain? I'm intrigued,"

"At some point, I really would like you to use your belt on me. Maybe around my neck, or to whip me with it. I want you to pull my hair, and I want you to choke me. That ones my favorite, but no one's ever done it right. I want you to choke me all the time, in any sexual context. Even if it's just heavy making out. If we do anything super heavy, or even just have sex, I really need aftercare, I think is the term? Like, please don't fuck me and then leave immediately."

His eyes were glistening as you had taken yours from him to explain things. You often talked with your hands, he had noticed, and he couldn't help but watch your perfectly manicured fingers whiz around in the air as you explained what turned you on.

"I like names, even mean ones. Just not bitch, that's my only real limit. Sweetheart, slut, whore, bunny, baby, anything. Just not bitch."

"I can work with that."

The last sexual conversation you had with Aaron ended fairly calmly, just a little making out and some cuddling. Aaron was serious, this was your rodeo. And at the time, you didn't think you were 100% there yet. You had full confidence in Aaron, but you wanted to feel ready. Pamper yourself, dress nicely, get a good wax, and most importantly drink plenty of water.

He had also been pretty busy with work, so not much physically had advanced between you two. However, tonight was different. You were going to have sex with Aaron Hotchner, and it was going to be hot, and mind-blowing, and everything you could imagine.

"Whatcha thinking so hard about, sweet girl?"

You had been so caught in your own thoughts, you didn't notice Aaron coming into your house with a box of pizza and two strawberry lemonades.

And that is when you realized it.

As he came in with presumably a cheese pizza, because you didn't eat meat, and your favorite drink, you felt it. You loved him. Why it didn't occur to you before was a mystery, but you knew it now. You loved Aaron Hotchner.

"I'm parched," you smiled, breaking out of thought. "I've got just the thing for you, honey." He quickly sat down and handed you a lemonade, and you smiled gratefully.

A few minutes went by relatively calmly, a light conversation about your day at work, his about paperwork and how JJ had been gushing about her son graduating kindergarten. His little smile warmed your heart. You ate pizza together, and you laid your neck against the armrest, with your legs laid over his lap.

With the TV show playing numbly on the screen, you finished your last bite and set the crust back into the box. You were equally prepared that Aaron may not be ready tonight, or may not want to. Just because you wanted to doesn't mean any slight signal of hesitance from him would let anything continue.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think I just need to be closer to you," you smiled softly. At the very least you wanted to cuddle with him, be near him. You adjusted yourself, and sat next to him, pulling the throw over your legs, as you were freezing.

You cuddled like that for a while, just humming and his hand slowly tracing over your back. Your eyes drooped in and out, and you damn near fell asleep laying so comfortably against your boyfriend. He was so warm, he smelled so good, and he was your comfort person. How could you not?

It wasn't long before you felt him shifting underneath you, making an almost uncomfortable groaning noise. It was soft, but enough to wake you. It was then your ears caught it: moaning.

Not from Aaron, though. Your eyes fluttered open to the TV out in front of you, and it was a very vivid sex scene. Not porn, just very loud and clear sex. And it dawned on you.

Aaron has a hard on and was trying not to wake you. How cute.

"Aaron, are you okay?"

Playing innocent was your best bet, and if it truly was going to make him uncomfortable, you didn't want to push it.

His eyes met yours, now fully open, and he smiled softly. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a little uncomfortable is all," he was so sweet in his tone, his voice deeper than usual.

"Is there anything I can do?"

The very loud slapping of skin in the background was the winner of your voice in the game of volume. This was a really long sex scene, Jesus Christ.

He paused for a moment, and then instead of answering he simply kissed your forehead, holding it there for a moment. "Aaron, are you hard?"

Out with it.

"Quite, but that is not your problem. I am fully capable of taking a shower and sleeping it off."

"If that's what you want to do, I will respect that. But... I am also fully willing to help you, if you want."

"Sweetheart, only if you're comfortable. Honestly," he was clearly uncomfortable, and your heart ached at how he was more worried about you than anything.

"Can I touch you?"

"Of course you can, honey," he sighed, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss. It wasn't long before his hands wrapped around your face gingerly, holding you tightly.

You lifted the blanket off of his lap, and stared impressively at his bulge. You didn't have any expectations, but you could clearly tell he wasn't the smallest.

You rolled your hands over his bulge, immediately watching as his eyes closed and he leaned his head back. You weren't new to foreplay, thank god, so you made quick work of his pants. Soon followed his boxers, the entire time his face eager but clearly wanting to respect you.

He was holding back so much.

You moved yourself to the carpeted floor, falling to your knees in front of him. His legs were spread, and he just looked at you with pure adoration. "You're beautiful," his hand came to gently swipe your hair from your face.

You responded by spitting on his dick, and looking up at him as you did it. He was a pretty decent length, but his thickness is what had you hung up. He was a perfect girth, but you knew this was going to leave your jaw sore.

As your mouth went around him, his hand stayed on your head. He was gently petting your head, as if it was his non-verbal form of praise. Sucking dick was a lot of work, but hearing Aaron groan and rub your jaw so gently was worth it.

"God, you're such a good girl,"

Music to your ears.

You went for as long as you could, before your jaw began to ache. The entire time Aaron was whispering sweet nothings to you, telling you how good you were doing.

"Fuck, come here," he pulled you off of his now sopping cock, and led you to his lap. "We don't have to do anything more, sweetheart. Not unless you really want to," he cradled your face in his hand, the warmth radiating off of your very red and achy cheeks.

It only took a moment before he kissed your forehead. "Aaron, I want you to take me, but could we go slow?"

"Oh, of course. It would be my pleasure," he grinned, "I'm going to make you feel so good. You were such a good little whore for me, how can I resist?"

Your eyes widened, and you couldn't help the wetness in your panties that erupted at the name. Your outfit wasn't super challenging, some sleep shorts and a black t-shirt (no bra, though). Typical sleepwear, but it gives Aaron easy access.

"If at any point you want to stop, just say the word," he moans into your mouth, but pulling away quickly to hold your face gently and stare into your eyes.

"What word?" you gave him doe eyes, your mouth and lips now sopping with a mixture of saliva and precum. He wanted to simply devour you whole.

"Red."

"Classic. I like that."

Following your giggle, he grabs your hand and stands up. You were confused for a short moment, until he leads you toward your room. He was truly a gentleman.

No couch fucking today, he thought.

Maybe tomorrow.

He rolled his boxers back down again, and closed the door behind you two. "Lay down, sweet girl," he smiled at you, and you couldn't help but giggle. This sweet man was all yours, and no one else's. How lucky a time.

You were fully on your back, looking up at him comfortably in your jammies still while he was fully naked. He was quick to get on the bed and hover over you, his eyes glistening with humor.

Your giggles didn't subside even as his hands roamed your body.

"What's so funny?"

"That--"

Your voice was cut short with a gasp, as he sucked onto your neck and his fingers snuck into your shorts and quickly rounded your clit. He rubbed you gently for a moment, before asking so very sweetly if he could take off your PJ's.

"Please," you were so smitten, so love drunk and fucked out already and he'd barely touched you. It wasn't long before your underwear and shorts, and you thanked the heavens for your wax. Baby smooth.

He followed pulling your shirt gently off of your torso, and you were now fully exposed, nipples hard as day.

"God, you're so beautiful."

You blushed and smiled at him, and as he circled your clit gently, knowing he couldn't unleash his rough side just yet, he kissed you so deeply. This was not a sex kiss.

This was an I love you kiss. And you both understood that.

To truly be comfortable enough and trust each other for sex was one thing, but you had already reached everything else in your relationship. You loved each other. And Aaron was going to make damn sure you knew that.

So he expressed his love as he dove his face between your legs, and little whimpers escaping your mouth. He teased your now sopping hole with one finger, testing the waters, and slowly slid it inside.

He made quick work, circling your clit with his tongue so harshly all of a sudden, and thrusting his fingers in and out of your cunt. The wet, squelching noises filled the room, and you were trying to be quiet. Your hand covered your mouth, and your other one grasping around desperately. Bedsheets, pillow, anything to tug on.

"Take your hand off your mouth," he ordered, looking up at you with a very moist pair of lips. "You can tug on my hair, you're not the only one who likes a little pain, sweetness,"

You giggled in response, which was short lived as another gasp filled the air. Your hands quickly found Aaron's hair, so sleek and soft, as he devoured you.

Each moment was a different approach, two fingers inside you, tongue on your clit. Fast and hard, or slow and gentle while he looked up at you. Each one made you feel so good and closer to an orgasm. He wasn't just good, he was amazing. It was like he knew the ins and outs of your body already.

Truth was, he was a quick learner. And he was a little nervous, this was your first time having sex. He wanted it to be good, to have fun, and for you not to regret it.

"More," you breathed out in a ragged moan, "please."

"Oh, since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" he then added a third finger inside of your drenched core, and moved his body up yours to kiss you.

You tasted yourself on him, and you can't lie. It was not the most magical fruity taste you'd ever experienced, but the sacrifice was made. He made you feel good.

As you two made out feverishly, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, his other hand found free space on the side of your jaw. It was slowly trailing down, further, and further, until it landed on the side of your neck.

Aaron knew that this was going to be the finish line as he felt you clench on his fingers of excitement. "Oh, my little whore really likes her neck being played with, huh?"

He started off gently, before he could hear your moans electrify from the presence of his hands. "Fuck, please," you were an incoherent mess at this point, just waiting for release.

His fingers were taken out of you, and he did quick, dirty circles on your clit as he held your throat full force. You were gonna come, and holy shit your legs were already shaking. "Please, please, let me come," you whimpered out, and he met you with another shaky but fervent kiss.

All you heard was squelching, wet noises as he rubbed you closer and closer. You had to wait for him to tell you, though.

"Come for me. Come all over my fingers, my pretty little slut,"

Your entire body shook and your face now a rosy red, you made such pretty noises for him. You were still coming, his fingers never stopped playing with your little clit. His hands wrapped tighter around your throat as your entire body hit a peak, and slowly started to come down.

He took his hands off of your throat, and he slowly licked his own fingers clean of your mess. He made direct eye contact as he did it. His ravenous side was still in full force, but seeing your tired, fucked out body made his eyebrows crease in worry.

"Are you okay? Did that feel alright, sweetheart?"

Your heart melted. He just gave you probably the hardest orgasm of your life and he was making sure you were okay. "I'm okay, and I have never came that hard.. like ever." You giggled as he laid next to you, his hand holding the side of your jaw and his thumb combing over the side of your cheek.

You stayed like that for a moment, just staring into each other's eyes. He came in for another kiss, and it was like something took over you. "Please, fuck me."

"Condom or no condom?" Aaron was slowly rubbing himself as he sat next to you, his cock angry and leaking. "I wanna feel you, you know I'm on the shot anyways,"

"Fuck, sweets, I'm gonna ruin you,"

Aaron slowly adjusted himself and was laying over you, and he knew this wasn't going to be a fast process. He wanted to make you feel it, but also not be so fucked out from pain.

Mouths together once again, he was softer this time. His fingers were creating warmth on the side of your body, just rubbing and creating a comfortability with being touched so intimately. His mouth slowly inched down, your jaw, neck, then stopped at your perked nipples.

He took one in his mouth and slowly toyed with the other in his thick fingers, and your moans were quick to come rushing out. "Fuck, as good as you feel, I need to you to hurt me. Please."

"Should I grab my belt?"

He looked up at you from misty eyes filled with pure lust, and you nodded like a little kid offered candy. "Oh, please," you moaned out as he bit down on your nipples softly.

It was only seconds before he flipped your body over, and you were now face down on the bed. You waited in anticipation as you heard some rumbling, and the metal of a belt click. You'd only gotten belted once before, and it left marks and bruises. You loved it.

"How about 5?" he asked, his hands slowly fondling your ass. He parted your cheeks, taking a long look at your leaking cunt. He was rock hard, and wanted nothing more than to fuck you endlessly, but he needed one final hoorah.

"Yes, sir,"

One.

The sting was sharp, and you gasped softly. "You're such a good girl, you know that? So fucking beautiful," he said, before the jangling of the belt came once more.

Two.

The moans that left your mouth were melancholic. Aaron wasn't necessarily a sadist, but your pleasure was ultimate to him. He was surprised you hadn't been asking him to slap you in the face with how dark you'd gone the first time.

Three.

It was starting to really hurt, and no longer in the good way. Now he was repeating sides, and you could hear him groaning to himself. Surely, if you could see, he is probably fisting his cock at the moment.

Your ass was fire red, already tainting with color. "You're taking this so well, baby,"

Another thwack hit your backside, and you wanted to cry. This was a little too much now, you couldn't take another one. You were still aroused, but you didn't know how to say you wanted this to stop here.

You flopped your hand onto the bed, searching for his. "Aaron," you breathed out, and he quickly dropped the belt to the floor and leaned down to catch your eyes. "Too much?"

You nodded, "A little, just for now. I promise I'll get better,"

He left a gentle swipe over your backside, and slowly bent over to give both cheeks a gentle kiss.

Aaron laughed a little at your comment, and quickly adjusted you to your back again. "Oh sweetheart, you don't have to get better at anything," he once again ran his thumb over your cheek.

You were in the compromising position, you had both kind of been pushing off. He was sitting with his thighs out, legs open, his dick hanging in the air. Hard as a fucking rock, this entire time. Your legs were swung over his in comfortability, but now, the realization had hung in the air.

"Do you want to keep going? We can stop here, honey."

"Take me, please," you groaned, kissing him on the lips. He grabbed your hand during this intense makeout session, and clasped them together. He wanted to hold your hand while he was going to be balls deep in you. That was cute.

"If it gets too much, tell me," he whispered, using his other hand to swipe his cock against your wet lower lips. He opened his mouth and backed away, you thought for viewing purposes, but instead he used all of his might and let a trail of spit fall onto your cunt.

He rubbed a little more, before immediately fucking into you, grasping your hand tightly.

It hurt. So fucking much, and not the good kind. It felt like your skin was tearing, and you were uncomfortably full. Why does it feel like this?

Aaron immediately took notice, and looked you in the face. "It should go away fairly soon, but if it hurts too bad I will pull out and we can just cuddle," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"Just..mmh. Need a little more time, please," you squeaked out, tears brimming your eyes. The sting of pain was still there, but the fullness was no longer uncomfortable. It felt right, as if you were complete with the way you almost felt his cock inside your stomach.

Aaron licked his fingers and quickly got to work on your clit, hoping it would wetten you up a bit and also distract you from the pain. It took all self control in him not to rut into you and immediately come. You were so fucking tight, and the way your face was glowing, he wanted nothing more than to fuck you just right.

"You can..." you breathed gently, clenching his hand still, "move," Aaron gave you a deep kiss, wishing he could swallow all of your uncomfort and give you all of his pleasure. He slowly went out, and rutted his hips back in a little harder than he would've liked to.

He started a very slow rythym, your legs were over his so he had all access he needed. Any sign of hesitation and he was to stop, he told himself. As of now, though, it seemed as if you were starting to enjoy it.

He held himself off from coming so quickly, and made sure you finished first. He was such a giver, and he wanted to make you feel good. He went a little rougher, a little faster, and your moans slowly came from your throat.

"Fuck, does that feel good?"

You took his hand that held yours, and slowly transferred it to your neck. He was a little taken aback, but slowly grinned. "Choke me, daddy,"

Aaron Hotchner had never fucked someone like he fucked you. After hearing you call him that, he wrapped his oh so beautifully large hands around you throat and fucked you into oblivion.

Your pussy was squelching, filling up the room with both of your hips smacking together. Aaron wasn't fully inside you, though. Not as much as he wanted to be. He wanted to make sure you could adjust.

His hands were all over you, now that you could take him faster. His hands at your hips, pistoning into you, whispering sweet nothings, or tugging at your nipples. He was a man poisoned by your body.

"Such a dirty girl, taking me so well," he gripped your thighs tightly, almost needing to hold on. You were so full, so overstimulated, it was a miracle you hadn't come yet.

It wasn't until his fingers landed on your clit, he fully bottomed out inside you. Your whole body shuddered, and you leaned up to lean your head into his shoulder.

"Oh, god," you were out of breath, your voice nearly breaking, "please, fuck me, please,"

"You're so fucking tight, fuck," he was now grunting, and he could feel your thighs shaking. You were going to come. He rubbed your clit faster, spreading your juices all over his fingers. "Yeah, you gonna come? All over this fat cock? Fuck, come for me,"

You moaned into his ear as your orgasm hit you like a fucking truck, and your whole body froze, then started to seize. Your thighs shook, your hands shook, and Aaron had to stop himself right then and there from coming once again. Your already tight walls cradled his cock so beautifully, he continued to fuck in and out of you, before you looked up at him, post climax.

"Aren't you gonna come inside me, daddy?"

"Fuck," he growled, before pulling out and turning you over once again. You were now face down in the bed, and he was quick to give a light slap on your ass and fill you once more. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and truly went balls deep. You were a moaning mess once again, feeling so fucking full.

"Yeah, you're so fucking good for me. So sweet, and all mine," he growled out, using his full force to fuck you. "I'm gonna cum inside this sweet little pussy. If it leaks out I'll just have to fuck it back into you, huh?"

"Oh, my god, Aaron," you were so overstimulated again, and you reached down to circle your clit once more. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum again, please, please keep fucking me,"

He grabbed your hips, letting go of your hair, and used brute force of his hips to fuck into you. "So fucking good, sweetheart," he kept whispering, and almost like clockwork, your second orgasm started. The clenching of your sore cunt is what drunk his out, his dick spasming and releasing hot ropes of cum inside you.

You laid together, sweaty bodies now having come together as one. Aaron was quick to get up though, insisting he run you a warm bath and grabbing a rag for himself.

You laid on your side, now feeling sore. Especially your ass, which at this point felt raw. It wasn't long before you heard the bath water running, and he walked back into the room with a black t-shirt on and a pair of boxer shorts.

"My, my, Aaron Hotchner, don't you look delicious," you said, almost sleepily with a smirk on your face. Still sticky, covered in cum, you were still at peace. He was yours.

"Alright, hotshot, lets go get in the bath," and as you began to sit up, he quickly hissed at you. "Absolutely not will you be walking,"

Aaron Hotchner carried you bridal style to the bathroom, gently laying you into the lukewarm tub. You hissed in pain, your ass really taking the hit. Literally.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I wish I would have stopped earlier," he said in sorrow, his eyes almost searching for forgiveness. "Aaron, I literally asked for it. It felt good," you smiled, pecking him on the lips as he was on his knees next to you. "Now if I had asked you to stop and you didn't, that would be another story."

"You know I'd never do that, right?"

You nodded, pulling your knees up to your chest and laying your head to the side as Aaron ran warm water over your back, his hands carressing you so gently.

"You did so well, tonight, you know that?" He was showering you with love, and you felt it. He gave you a kiss on the temple, and continued rubbing your back soothingly. "Lets put some lotion on your ass later, okay?"

You couldn't help but giggle.

"Are you staying tonight?" you asked wtih hopeful eyes, begging for only one answer.

"Of course, sweetheart," he gave you the most genuinely smile Aaron Hotchner could muster.

He continued like that for a while, slowly helping you clean yourself off, even in the most private places. This was more intimate than the dirty, rough sex you just had. Speaking of..

"Can we cuddle tonight?"

hello! i hope you enjoyed this lovely piece of smut. i am taking more requests for one-shots, blurbs, etc. i do criminal minds (female x emily, derek, hotch, reid, or garcia) i also do the walking dead (female x daryl, rick, negan) and bts AND stray kids if you're into kpop!

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #cm smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid #derek morgan #derek morgan smut #spencer reid smut #smut #criminal minds #thomas gibson #thomas gibson smut #aaron hotchner x reader

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fea21 · 1 year

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The fact that these two can have the perfect kissing moment without actually kissing is astonishing. They are the embodiment of "just a friend". They are literally two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly and I think that adds on to their mountain of way they should ignore their feelings and act like they're fine just being friends. Their perfect relationship that gives off old couple vibes stems from what I think is understanding each other's boundaries, connection from a similar goal of stopping ghosts from hurting others and being able to communicate true their eyes.

Lockwood and Lucy both Have had their fair share of disagreements together but they never purposely crossed a boundary when it's set. Lockwood says he doesn't like talking about his past or keeping one room in the house lock from everyone and Lucy respects even though she shows curiosity she never presses him on it or tries to figure out his past. Lucy only reminds him that if he wants to open up she is there to listen even though she does show frustration when he blows her off I think she only a to tha way because after all she went true with nori putting herself out there is a hurdle she still working on overcoming but still trying her best to not push him to far. Same with Lockwood talking about your past is a foreign subject to him he still tries his best to understand Lucy and even apologize when he realizes the reason he didn't know about Lucy best friend who was ghost locked was because he didn't ask . When he puts her in the spotlight and doesn't release how he's been making her feel suffocated he apologizes and explains the way he acted that way and had real productive conversations even telling her he believes her about being able to talk to leave 3 ghost. They both have crossed each other's boundaries but learnt from their mistakes and handled it like mature adults.

Their common goal for being ghost hunters is what brought them together all their trauma comes from ghosts whether a host caused it or the ghost hunting life caused it. Lockwood was orphans because of ghost and it explains his animosity toward them and only wanting to finish a job not really caring about how or way the ghost died or way when he saw the silhouette of the man who died in there door way he seems so bothered by it's glow. Lucy even with being forced into the business by her mom losing her education best friend who was her only real family and her "normal" life she wanted to pretend she had she still cares for this ghost when she sees they need closure or help. They both do this business whether it so save the live they couldn't save or because they where forced into it with no way out they've both bonded over the sleepless nights in the kitchen studying ghost patents and old news posters. They both got into this business for not so happy reasons but it seems to have brought them the perfect person to be happy with.

They have communicated many times but the way they are just able to look at each other's eyes and know what the others think no matter what they say on the outside. Without question they are a walking 😍 emoji when left alone together. Luce can calm him when his panics just by looking eyes with him. He can calm her with just quick contact and a smile. They both could just sit together barely speaking and just lovingly look at each other no matter what going on Lockwood always is trying to find an excuse to look at her and even forget that her been staring at her. Luce has probably already over analysed how Lockwood talks of his jacket or how he plays with his hair. Lockwood already memories the different shades of orange and browns in Lucy's eyes. How do these two seem to give out more romance than a smut book with only 10 seconds of eye contact these two making eye contact should be rated R because of all the sexual tension between them. If there is a power outage just have Luce and Lockwood make eye contact the sparks will keep u running for years no more electric bill. This two will forever be my most love and hated ship for how much romance they go be out but how frustratingly slow they are

-L

#lockwood and co netflix #locklyle #l&co #george karim #lucy carlyle #lockwood and co #lockwood #lockwood and co series #netflix lockwood and co #lockwood and lucy #anthony lockwood #romance #lovers #anelise

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aobawilliams · 7 months

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20 questions for writers

I was tagged by @marcellebelle! Thanks for that!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

69,471 (eheh, nice)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So on AO3 I got My Hero Academia, Detective Conan/Magic Kaito and Before the Coffee gets cold. Outside of AO3 I got some Naruto, FMA, One Piece, Bungo Stray Dogs, wips too (and there was that time I was writing crack fic about Mob Psycho here on tumblr with Panda, that was fun). There's probably some other I've forgotten too- oh yeah there was some Hetalia at some point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Noisy as the dead (495)

Who The F- Is This (432)

Nothing Wants To Suffer (375)

Who am I beating up? (131)

What it takes to survive (72)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I tend to but lately, I haven't really kept up with it. I am sorry. I should get to it at some point soon, but be aware every comment is read and enjoyed.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Morituro, probably? Considering both All Might and Izuku died so, yeah.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I like to think it's Before The Coffee Gets Cold - The Sisters, since this fic is about closure after death.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Oh! I got once a hate comment on who the f- is this, to which i answered with an essay or two. I probably shouldn't have but also it was really fun at the time. Otherwise I don't believe I do.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I can barely write romance, smut is way out of my reach. I also don't really have any interest in writing any, to be honest.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Crossovers are probably right after Time Travel in term of things I love. Not one I've written but special mention to that one time I dream about Zabuza from naruto/Reigen from mob psycho as a ship.

Don't know if it's the craziest but I had a The Rising of the Shield Hero/Naruto one started once, there was also that Detective Conan/My Hero Academia one started with Panda that the idea was so good. We should get back to it, one day.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

*squint* I don't think so (unless it was done without my knowledge) but strong maybe back in my ff.net era. Though I did translate some fics myself before (it wasn't done very well, but I did try back then, and it did help me a lot learning english. Problem was I'm not good at grammar stuff.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Once again, there was that cracky Mob Psycho one here somewhere. Also, some projects with Panda that are really good except words hard for both of us.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

...yeah no idea right now, come ask me another time. (It tends to change on the day, but also right now I'm on a no-romance streak so, better luck next time)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

*crying* all of them.

Okay so, first of all, a wip is never dead unless I decide to bury it. Which doesn't happens. I still have hope one day I'll get back to them.

Right now I really want to work on Dad For All and the DCMK NOC AU except, word hard and planning harder. But I'll get there, one day, even if it's in 10 years.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I honestly got no idea? I probably got some I'm just not sure what it could be.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

word hard. Also no idea how grammar works beyond "whatever feels right to me".

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Eeh, I probably wouldn't do it because it's bothersome having to look up a translation while you're reading a fic, unless it's something that fits with the context or just a few words here and there. Also switching languages in the middle of thinking is so hard to do, why would you do this to me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Naruto, back in uuuhhhhhh probably middle school. It was a long time ago. Nothing is left of what I could have written then. (Also close to that time period was D.Gray-man).

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Huge huge huge fondness for Before The Coffee Gets Cold - The Sisters, probably because Im very fond of that universe and also when grief is explored and closure is sought. I also really like the flowers have water.

Who the f- is this and Noisy as the dead are my funny projects though, I have lot of fun working on them.

Tagging! @achairwithapandaonit @grolahvol @figurativepieceoftrash @bloustorm @fanfiction-artist-prototype @guesst and uuh really tbh anyone who sees this and feel like doing it! I just picked a few people off the top of my head but I know there's a lot more of you seeing this.

#tag game #sometimes i write

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brother-genitivi · 9 months

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pulling the uno reverse card to say hello???? your bg3 thoughts???? anything you'd like to share with the massess? 📸🎙️ what's the wildest thing you've done so far what are the basics for your ocs?

HEJHKFSSJ hi merhaba hello I have SO MANY thoughts (I've played up to 1/4 of Act 3 before restarting so I'll try and be vague)

WOW. What a game what a GAME!! I have never got attached to so many side characters. I love that I can give them closure and conclusive ends to their arcs, and they're not even main characters. I love that as a player, I can have an influence in my environment. I love that I can challenge my companions and be challenged, and that opinions don't simply change overnight. There's development. There's so much satisfaction in the companion character arcs. Also some of the dialogue options are straight up FOUL in classic Larian Studios style. ok this is getting long sdksjlkds;

I can actually have consequences to my actions. Playing a good character FEELS good, rather than it being 'oh I need to please (companion) and I know this choice will help'. Some of the companion quests made me cry. I burst into tears at Astarion's. tbf I cry at everything but I just djnvhfadklcKLD;

I've done some wild shit... speaking of, I flung some at someone's face and started a fight. Walked into the barn and saved the situation by saying 'this smut would sell well in bookshops'. Got beaten to an inch of my life by a hottie who took a LOT of pleasure in my screaming, then I said I enjoyed it. Vandalised a portrait of Vlaakith... in front of Lae'zel. Shoved a man into lava. Got a statue of myself to put in camp. It's really big. And obnoxious.

I've only been playing one oc really, and that's Safaa. She's a seldarine drow and bard. She spent the entirety of her life living in a drow village in the Underdark, adopted by her mothers after her parents died under mysterious circumstances. Safaa meets her first love after a group of circus performers are waylaid on the road and seek refuge in her village. She's utterly enamoured by them, or rather their intimate knowledge of what the world looks like under sunlight. One of the performers, a young, handsome half-drow takes an interest in her.

He tells her about the world above. She tells him about her paintings. They walk arm in arm speaking of things meant only for each other, always giggling about inane things. She reads to him when the words don't make sense to him. He teaches her to play the flute, how to dance. She's young and infatuated with the first person to express romantic attention towards her. She believes she loves him. He stays with her in her village long after the other performers move on. He promises to take her to the surface, to show her the sun.

He doesn't get the chance. Their relationship doesn't get the chance to bloom. He dies. No one knows why. Bad luck, perhaps. And Safaa is utterly convinced it's her fault. People she loves seem to drop like flies around her. It must be her fault. She adopts a 'stay away from me, I only cause death' attitude and isolates herself from her family. She makes her way to the surface, but before she has the chance to cherish the sunlight, she's snatched onto the nautiloid.

She romances Astarion <3 she is the epitome of sunshine mired in guilt, and he's a vampire. Do you see the- do you see the vision do you s-

Here's the girl in question

#asks #safaa salhani #baldur's gate 3 #TYSM FOR LETTING ME INFODUMP <3<3 SO MUCH LOVE TO YOUUUU #i am dark urging her playthrough rn #so i'm gonna see what that's like before i decide if i wanna incorporate that into her story hehe #she's so babygirl i'm-

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waywardxrhea · 5 months

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Part Six - Trying to Catch my Breath

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence, (potentially smut later on).

installment list

Word count: 3k

This one’s just sad, honestly.

One chilly evening a couple of months into the task force assignment after a long mission, Steve and Emma head back to her place to watch movies. Before she could choose a movie out of her collection though, she notices that The Wizard of Oz is playing on the movie channel so she decides to leave it. "I didn't know the TV played movies this old, I watched this when it first came out," Steve comments as he sits on the couch.

"Oh, are you calling yourself old now?" Emma teases.

"Touche," he replies with a smile.

Emma checks her phone and sees a text from Maria. After reading it, she says aloud, "Maria is gonna swing by somewhere and get pizza for all of us, what kind do you want?"

"Cheese is good," Steve replies absentmindedly while staring at the screen.

"Whenever we end up back in New York, remind me to take you to my favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place. Their food is phenomenal," Emma tells Steve.

When she doesn't get a response, she looks up to see him watching the movie looking a bit down. Seeing the sudden change in demeanor, Emma asks, "Hey, is everything okay?"

Steve is finally knocked out of his daze and replies, "Yeah, yeah. Just...missing the past a bit is all." He pauses and sighs, adding, "When I was flying that plane down into the Arctic, I thought it would be the end, but I still made plans with Peg. For those few seconds, I thought everything would end up okay."

Emma feels her heart sink but elects to ignore the feeling in her chest and replies, "I'm so sorry, Steve. I'm glad you did try and feel less scared in those moments though. Optimism pushes people through a lot of tough situations." She pauses for a beat before adding, "You know, you haven't told me much about this Peggy girl. She seems to have a big place in your heart, but you never talk in detail about her. What was she like?"

Steve smiles and replies, "Oh she was one of the bravest women I knew back then. Tough as nails. Gutsy too." He pauses and laughs, adding, "When I got my shield, she shot straight at it before any other testing was done. If that thing didn't hold up, I'm not sure I'd be here right now."

"She sounds like a firecracker. What was her rank?"

Steve thinks for a second before replying honestly, "All I ever really heard anyone call her was Agent Carter."

Emma nearly chokes on the sip of water she had in her mouth when she hears the name. She regains her composure before asking, "Did you say, Agent Carter? As in Agent Peggy Carter? Founder of SHIELD?"

"Wait Peg founded SHIELD?"

"Yes, she founded SHIELD!" Emma replies. "Have you never paid attention to the pictures on the walls at HQ?"

"I guess not?" Steve asks with a chuckle. He smiles and says quietly, "Wow, she went on to do such great things after everything went down."

"That she did," Emma replies.

Steve thinks for a second and then asks, "Well, how did you not know it was her I talked about all this time?"

"There's only so much you can read in a museum, Steven," Emma replies with a laugh. She thinks for a moment before informing him, "I'm pretty sure she's still around and it sounds like you could use some closure with her. I couldn't give you many details but I'm sure Maria could."

"Maria could do what?" comes Maria's voice as she enters the apartment carrying pizza and a case of drinks for the three of them.

Emma clutches her chest at the sudden appearance of her friend and she says with a laugh, "Maria, I know I always give you a spare key to my place, but at least knock next time!"

"Fine, fine, but really, what can I do to help whoever?"

"Well Steve needs some closure on his past with Peggy Carter, I'm assuming you'd know something about her whereabouts."

"Off the top of my head I don't, but I can do some digging," she replies as she sits the pizza on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Steve tells them as they all relax into their seats to watch the rest of the movie.

One morning on her day off, Emma calls up Grammie to check on her. When the line picks up, Emma smiles and starts off quickly, "Hey Grammie! Were you ready to finally tell me that story about Captain Rogers? It's been so busy I keep forgetting to ask you about it!"

"Miss Baker," comes a voice from the other end. It wasn't Grammie.

"Emiliano?" Emma asks. "Is Grammie busy? I can call back another time."

"No, no," the nurse says. He pauses and asks, "Would you mind sitting down?"

Panic instantly floods Emma's body but she tries to remain optimistic because that's what Grammie would do. She sits down on the couch and says, "I'm sitting. Is Grammie okay?"

There's a long pause on the other end of the line before Emiliano sighs again and replies quietly, "She just passed away, Miss Baker."

"Oh my god," Emma breathes, tears instantly flowing from her eyes. Her body feels numb as she tries to figure out her next words.

Emiliano speaks first, saying, "I know you're in DC right now, so if you want the home to make funeral arrangements so you don't have to worry about it, just say the word."

Emma takes a deep breath and manages to get out the words, "No, I'll do it. She...she always had a specific vision for her funeral and I want to grant her that wish."

"As you wish," he tells her. "I'm really sorry about this Miss Baker."

"Thank you," she replies and hangs up the phone.

Once she ends the call, Emma sits there, staring at the phone not knowing what to do. Her body feels like lead as she tries to stand up to get her laptop to look up numbers for arrangements back where Grammie was living. Time gets away from her as she begins the first of many calls back to New York.

Meanwhile, across town, Steve sits on a bench outside the Smithsonian with his sunglasses on and a ball cap pulled down over his eyes. He checks his watch and thinks to himself, It isn't like Emma to be late... Steve digs his phone out from the pocket of his leather jacket and dials Emma's number. It goes straight to voicemail.

Steve furrows his eyebrows wondering what was going on, it wasn't like her to miss a call from him. After calling her other number and not getting a response out of that one either, he gets off the bench and makes his way back to his motorcycle to head over to Emma's to check on her.

Back in her apartment, Emma is on the phone with the funeral directors trying to get them to understand exactly what Grammie wanted for her funeral. She looks at the notebook with scrawled-out notes on it trying exasperatedly to explain what she wanted through her jumbled thoughts. As the person puts her on hold, Emma sighs and mutters to herself, "This is useless trying to make arrangements from a different state..."

There's suddenly a knock at the door which startles Emma. She jumps out of her seat and walks to the door with the phone still on her ear in case the director takes her off of hold. As she approaches the door, she can hear Steve's voice asking, "Emma, are you okay?"

"Shit," Emma curses, remembering they had plans that day. She catches a glance of herself in a mirror she had hanging in the living room and realizes that she looks exactly how she feels: awful.

Steve knocks again and asks a bit louder, "Is everything okay Em?"

Emma quickly throws her messy hair into a bun and opens the door for Steve. She can't even fake a smile and lie that everything was fine, so she replies quietly, "No."

Emma shrinks back into the apartment and wraps her arms around herself in an attempt to provide some comfort while Steve steps into the apartment and shuts the door behind him, asking, "What happened?"

"Grammie passed away..." Emma whispers, her voice breaking as reality sets in once again that she's really gone. Emma breaks down in tears but tries to stop them, saying, "I'm so sorry Steve, you probably don't want to deal with all of my emotions right now."

Steve, not knowing what to say, simply wraps his arms around Emma. Her phone falls to the ground but she disregards it as she accepts the embrace. Her body shakes slightly as she cries in Steve's arms as he tries to calm her down by gently running his hand up and down her back, whispering, "It'll be okay, Em. It's gonna hurt for a while, but pain can't last forever."

Emma nods at the words, trying to get the tears to stop flowing with deep breaths. When she finally manages to stop, Steve lets go of her and squeezes her shoulder. From the floor, a voice, barely audible, calls, "Miss Baker?"

Emma quickly grabs the phone off the floor and clears her throat, "Hi, yes, I'm still here. We were talking about flower arrangements and a location?"

As Emma talks on the phone quietly, Steve goes to the stove to grab the tea kettle to make the two of them some tea. Emma always makes him tea when he isn't having the best day, so he thought he would repay the favor. When the tea is done, Steve sweetens it and sits a cup down in front of her. He then sits across the table while she wraps up the call.

When Emma puts the phone down, she says to Steve, "Thank you," as she wraps her hands around the warm mug

"It's what you would have done for me," he replies with a smile. "Is there anything I can help with?"

"Actually yeah, if it wouldn't be any trouble," Emma replies with a sigh. "I know you have some old jazz records and I was wondering if I could borrow them? Grammie had a lot at some point but I don't have the time to go find them before...before the funeral."

"Of course, whatever you need," he replies. "We can swing by my place and see what I have. May I ask why out of curiosity?"

"Well," Emma replies, finally cracking a small smile, "Grammie always said she didn't want a depressing and boring funeral like Gramps had. She wanted music and bright colors and smiles on people's faces. She wanted everyone to celebrate the life she lived, not for them to be sad because she's gone." Emma's voice breaks at the last part. She clears her throat and stares up at the ceiling trying not to break down again.

"I think that's a good, optimistic attitude to have," Steve tells her, "and even better that you're working to make sure it happens for her."

"I just hope she would be happy with what I'm doing for it," she replies, taking a sip of the tea.

"I'm sure she would, Em," he tells her. They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Steve finishes his tea and asks, "How about we go to the National Mall? Just walk around and get some fresh air? It'll be good for you to get out. We could even stop to get some food at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant you'll no doubt find and put it in your blog."

Emma forms her lips into a semblance of a smile and nods, "Outdoors, hipster restaurants? You're really speaking my language here, Steve."

"That's what friends are for aren't they?"

"Right..." Emma says, trailing off slightly. Friends. That's what they were. Friends, fellow agents, but nothing more. And that word at that moment wounds Emma because something inside her had shifted when Steve wrapped his arms around her a few minutes before. She didn't realize how much she had fallen for Steve over the past few months until he just called them friends. She shakes the thought out of her mind and tries to ignore the new ache in her heart as she says, "Just let me make myself more presentable, and then we can head out."

"I'll meet you on my motorcycle. The freedom of the road always makes me feel better, maybe it will with you too."

Emma nods as she disappears into her room to get ready, trying not to think because of the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. Grammie, Steve, funeral arrangements, making time between missions to go to New York. Everything is overwhelming and she just wishes she could be in Steve's embrace again because when she was, even for a moment, everything felt like it would be okay.

After a whirlwind few days of planning between meetings and missions, Maria and Emma made their way up to New York to attend Grammie's funeral. The ceremony was held in her hometown in upstate New York at the local park. The gathering attracted the whole town because Grammie had been such a notable figure there up until she had to move into a home closer to the city.

Emma dressed in a yellow swing dress for her celebration of life speech and somehow managed not to fall apart while speaking. After the funeral, many of the guests gathered at the family's lodge to have a potluck dinner and reminisce over Grammie and how she helped them out at some point or another in their lives.

At one point during the celebration, Emma wandered up to the guests who were currently renting the property and said, "Thank you so much for letting us use the space for this. It means a lot to everyone."

"It's no problem," the sweet southern woman had told her. "My family has rented out this property enough over the last decade that we know how much your grandparents meant to this town."

"Thank you, I'll make today's stay free because of your generosity," Emma had told her. She laughed a little and continued, "Man, I'm sure Gramps is rolling in his grave at the word free to a renter."

"How about next year we stay an extra day to make up for it?"

"Sounds great."

That was hours ago. Now, Emma and Maria drive back to the airport so they can get back to DC for their mission early the next morning. Emma leans her head against the cool glass of the window as Maria drives. They listen to 90's and early 2000's pop music as they go to try and make the mood a bit peppier.

At one point, Emma turns down the radio and Maria scolds teasingly, "Hey I was listening to that!"

Emma laughs a little bit and says, "Well I have a question about work."

"Emma, I thought we established no work talk until we're back in DC."

"I thought we established no work talk in front of people until we get back to DC," Emma retorts. "Besides, it isn't about a mission or anything. It's about...I guess rules of conduct for agents."

"What did you do? You know there's only so much I can do to get you out of things, Em. What Fury and I did when you first started, that was a one and done thing that we can't do ag-"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Emma interrupts her. "I didn't do anything."

"Then what is it?"

"It's about one of my other writers, Sandra. I've been getting closer with her and we went out for drinks once or twice when you were too busy to hang out," Emma rambles trying to figure out how to slyly ask her question. "Anyways, she was telling me that she had feelings for an agent she works closely with and reports on. So she was wondering if I'd ask you what the protocol is if something like that happens. Agency protocol, not like...what she should do about... said feelings."

Maria glances at Emma out of the corner of her eye and notices her body language as well as how rambly Emma was being. She ignores the hunch developing in her brain and tells Emma, "Agency protocol would be to separate the two agents from working closely together. When it comes to things like that biases get involved, especially if one of the parties is a reporter. There's also the factor of if whoever the agent was going after gets wind of said romance, someone could get captured and compromised. All around, we just find it easier to keep romances out of agent partnerships for everyone's benefit."

Emma nods, saying, "Thanks, I'll tell her." She pauses and thinks before adding, "And if she wanted to act on these feelings, would she just have to report to her higher up or what happens then?"

"She would have to report to a superior agent, yes, then one or the other would get reassigned to a different unit."

"Good to know," Emma replies with a nod before she turns the music back up and tries to decide whether or not it would be worthwhile to confess her feelings to Steve. She hasn't felt this exact kind of attraction to anyone before though and doesn't know how to navigate it. No one had ever cared about her like Steve does and she just can't escape the feelings that seem to grow stronger every day.

She also can't escape feeling almost guilty for having feelings for him because after all, he was still in love with Peggy. Ever since Emma and Maria helped the two of them get back into contact, Steve always seemed to be with her when he wasn't on a mission. The guilt comes in when Emma gets jealous over these meetings because she knows that she is all Steve has left of the past, of course, he wants to hang on to that, but Emma always has the thought of oh how I wish that was me when he talks so lovingly about her.

Trying to shake these thoughts, Emma turns up the music and sings along with Maria to escape her reality at least for a little while.

link to the next part

#fanfic #marvel #captain america #slow burn #steve rogers #writing #wow this was a heavy chapter #unrequited love #Spotify #marvel fanfic series #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers romance #steve rogers friends to lovers #steve rogers slow burn #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fic #captain america fic

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nightcourtreader · 7 months

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I feel like people who ship Nessian don’t mind a verbally abusive bully FMC, the cringey ACOSF scenes, when making her seem like some amazing FMC. Or people who focus a lot on smut. Not you! But I feel like people have to not care about ALOT of what she’s done to gas her up and praise her. I don’t mind her but hyping her up after sitting on her ass for so long makes me laugh sometimes 😭😭😭 Like it feels mean or petty but does anyone just sit back and REALLY look at how she was written? She even fucked a guy through her entire healing before she gained her weight back like it was so bad but so much of all this has to be ignored by her fans.

I just feel like there has to be some delusion to go crazy for either of Feyre’s sisters when they either have shit pasts, have barely done anything impressive, had a horrible healing arc that was cringey at alot of times…..I dunno…

SORRY 😭 I don’t want to seem like a dick just wanted to vent

It’s ok, you’re ok to vent. I’m glad that you’re comfortable enough to do so with me 🥹. And these are your opinions and I think it’s ok to have them.

See, I know this might not be a popular opinion but I believe that SJM should have made nesta’s arc a duology. Although I really like nessian, I thought the romantic part of their story was more lacking and it focused more on the smut and I feel like the book needed more time to explain certain plotlines. I am more of the romantic book reader so that’s why I think acotar is my favorite SJM series. Like I feel it’s a crime SJM didn’t have nessian say I love you or at least Cassian didn’t and I’m just like?? They had all the cutest moments in acowar and we barely got any soft moments from them in acosf.

But I think that acosf was more of a nesta’s healing journey than romance. And it showcased her getting away from being verbally aggressive. And I think that nesta doing all those things were the point to show like she hit rock bottom and she needed help. She’s not mentally well. And acosf is the turning point for nesta to no longer be the person who’s verbally attacking others, I don’t think her healing journey is no where over but she does have some character development. She’s no longer filled with self hatred. She’s no longer hurting others to make herself feel better temporarily.

I think that a lot of people are having a hard time with nesta still because we didn’t get enough of nesta being a person who’s no longer the old person she used to be & nor did I think she apologized so it’s hard for some readers to connect to that. We didn’t really get enough of soft nesta. I think in ways she did show that she actually cared about Feyre & Cassian throughout the series in her own way though. I also think the friendships between her and the Valkyries are one of the top 3 friendships in the series and she’s a good friend to them.

I also think alot of people don’t think that the Archeon sisters have proper closure with their relationship and I agree with that. I know a lot of people said Feyre forgave and moved on and I get that, but the sisters never had a proper sit down to talk about their relationship, they all just brush it under the rug and think everything is ok and some people are not ok with that & me included. That’s why I don’t think the Archeon sisters are going to be close. They don’t talk really, they’re not friends.

I feel like nesta should be hyped up for certain things in the series, like the booge scene, the prison scene, the blood rite scene. Training, like all those positive things that helped her, that actually showed her strength but like what happened in the cottage and the verbal attacks I don’t think are the times to be hyped up because nesta didn’t want to be that person.

I just think that people need to also accept faults or their fav characters if they’re going to point out the flaws of others. Hype up your fav as much as you want, you have the right to, but like not everyone in this series is perfect and I think nesta’s story is the perfect example of that.

#nesta acosf #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian acotar #Cassian acosf #healing

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h-pelessly · 2 months

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March Reads

Betting on You by Lynn Painter (10/10) I'm in love with Lynn Painter's writing. At first, I read this with the mindset that nothing YA/hs will beat Wes Bennett from BTTM knowing Charlie is Wes' cousin. However, this book also made me sob. There were a lot of tropes jam packed into this, but I enjoyed it. The only thing I didn't love about this one is Bailey, the FMC. She was a little naive and I like my FMCs a little strong. But the way these two acted and interacted brought me right back to high school. This is a perfect friends to lovers book and I will absolutely cry over it any day. A quote that really stuck with me was "I wanted to show you that you can trust me to never disappear again" when Charlie wanted to give Bailey his cat. BABY, I WILL SOB

The Cupcake Cowboy by Rose Rayne Rivers (7/10) This was an ARC read for an indie author. I am currently in my sports romance era (when am I not tbfh) but I was like hmmmm let me jump into this. Not going to completely lie, I got bored. I did like Kaytlyn's sassy mouth, but it was also like ???? Do u know when to shut up. Blayke and Kaytlyn met when Blayke's "brother" (by heart) brings him to the diner Kaytlyn works at to showcase his crush. Immediately, Blayke falls in love. The insta attraction threw me off. But the struggles they went through was mediocre. I didn't feel my relation to the characters at all.

Break the Girl by Rachel Jonas and Nikki Thorne (7.5/10) For a dark romance, I didn't hate it. I was kinda surprised at this, but then again, people are saying that it's not really a dark romance so i don't know. But to me, it was a dark romance bc I would personally not like to exist in here. But it was slightly in this world so I don't know if it classifies as such. ANYWHO, I got this on one of syk days, and I was like I need a break from fluffy romances or at least a filler. This one is about a bully frat which I can kind of see, but also, it's like what the fuck is this brotherhood shit. It's also a why choose which is why I was kinda okay with it. Let's cover all this shit up with smut and it'll all be alright. The girl was realistically fighting against her fate, and the boys ended up pleasuring her altogether. So in a way, it was sweet they didn't push her. This is part of a trilology which is cool, but like there's no HEA or any sense of closure so I am not necessarily looking forward to finishing/continuing.

Collided by Lauren Asher (7/10) I liked this a bit better than the first one. I never got around to reading it until I found an audio version of it. This one, like the first book, was tension filled. To the point where the slow burn didn't make sense because we all know what's going to happen like there was no angst at all. I do love banter and a slow burn, but it was kind of like there were no other barrier. Under developed for an Asher book imo. A lot of things didn't make sense such as why Liam was so fixated on Sophie's "fuck it" list when he kind of had something like that with someone else and ended it. That didn't make sense to me. Or the father-daughter relationship between Sophie and her dad-- super weird imo. But I mean I did end up liking it more and might as well finish the Dirty Air series.

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang (7.5/10) I personally had a love-hate relationship with this book, but I can't lie that this book made me feel things. I did feel the romance/love aspect, but it wasn't as strong as other emotions. I hated the fact that Michael, the Asian MMC was a sex worker (escort). Like there's nothing wrong with it, but the fact that he experienced racism while doing his work made me so uncomfortable. And he had to be Vietnamese too like that shit hurt so much. Anyway, someone said the autism was fucked out of Stella, the FMC, and I cannot stop thinking about that. I honestly don't think the characters would last together IRL, but it was a cute attempt that they ended up engaged/married.

Faceoff by Mari Loyal (7.3/10) This book was an ARC so I didn't know what to expect. This was a sports (hockey) romance in a college setting. I have some things that I didn't like, but I honestly did enjoy it. It had me giggling and kicking my feet. I love my independent and strong FMCs. This is a rivals-to-lovers romance which has a latina FMC. I loved getting to know her family. And the MMC, chef's kiss. He's so patient and kind to her, Luz, and he lets her shine. If he wasn't so young, I'd be in love.

Hook, Line, and Sinker by Tessa Bailey (6.9/10) I was actually loving this at first then I got super bored. Granted, it was a book in a form of audio, but I thoroughly understood it and loved it at first (the tension) then I got super bored. I was like why??? Then I realized it wasn't because of the friends-to-lovers trope, but it was because the FMC, Hannah, was kind of unlikable. Her problem was kind of stupid which like to be fair is something everyone goes through, but it's just that fact that lil miss billioniare feels that way is insane. She was like disguised as a poor girl. I barely liked her in Piper's story; she was kinda eh. And Fox was so likable in Piper and Brennan's story. Too bad he is kind of unlikable in his story as well. You're telling me everyone treats him like a player and although he has a hate-love relationship with it, he refuses to step out of his own stereotype???? Give me a break. These two will break up in the mere future tbh.

Alpha Inmate by Liliana Carlisle (6.2/10) I mean it definitely wasn't as bad or terrifying as "The Sacrifice" but it wasn't good either. This is my first romantasy and even though it was a novella, it was confusing as fuck. Are they animals? Alpha, Beta, Omega like yeah they could be part wolf or whatever like in Teen Wolf, but like going into Rut and in Heat???? Another read I shouldn't have let Tiktok influence me to read tbh. I hate it here!!! I only read for one cute scene which did happen, but it wasn't even cute. He didn't come to comfort her because of the storm. He came to fuck her as well -cries-. Anyways, this is straight corn on paper.

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our-flag-means-death-ao3feed · 2 years

Text

I'll follow all the way to the sun

by LakeWitch

Stede Bonnet is desperately searching the seas for any sign of Edward, with an apology and an explanation ready on his lips.

Meanwhile, Edward decides he needs closure. When he has Izzy set out—in order to confirm that Stede is happy and comfortable back in his old life with Mary and the kids—Izzy reports back what he finds. Bonnet, apparently, has died. Edward does not take it very well, and Izzy has no choice but to be pulled along with him.

Words: 3855, Chapters: 1/8, Language: English

Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Israel Hands/Lucius Spriggs, Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet

Additional Tags: POV Stede Bonnet, POV Israel Hands, POV Alternating, Ok so what if Izzy isn't homophobic but he's:, Sex-Repulsed, sex-averse, Demiromantic, Asexual, and he likes kissing and cuddling, suggestion of past acephobia, Izzy repeating acephobic statements because he expects them to be said to him but they're not, if that makes sense, Suicidal Thoughts, the first steps toward a suicide attempt, making reparations, Prison, Edward is depressed, Hurt/Comfort, asking for forgiveness, Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Love Confessions, Coming Out, Izzy quitting again, Opening Up, Day At The Beach, Anal Sex, Basically this is my imagining of what season 2 could be like, Polyamorous Lucius Spriggs, But the focus is not on his established relationship with Black Pete, So I didn't put it in the relationship tags, they're still together of course, this was originally supposed to be about Stede/Ed but I got carried away with Izzy, I just think he's neat lol, the robe, The Handkerchief, Bedtime Stories, Storms, Ed not eating because of depression and grief, Grief/Mourning, (Guess I'll tag it even though Stede is actually alive), Poisoning

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/42078633

#Our flag means death #ofmd

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shina913 · 2 years

Text

Intersect, Part 9.5 | KNJ

Intersect, Part 9.5

Definition: To meet and cross at a point; To share a common area

✫✫✫Intersect Masterlist✫✫✫

Pairing: KNJ x fem!reader

Rating: M (🔞)

Genre: Office!AU; enemies to lovers; fluff; angst; smut; NSFW

Word count: 3.8K+ words

Warnings: POV switch!; so-much-freaking-angst; office banter; excessive cussing; office romance; an insane amount of angst (oops, just in case I didn't say that yet); pining; unrequited love; hints of idiocy between OC and Joon; self-preservation; some alcohol consumption; flashbacks; miscommunication; heated/angry conversations

Summary: You hate him, he hates you. You were both fine staying in your own lanes–until you’re forced to work together on a make-or-break project for your company.

A/N: Namjoon's POV; Angst part 2 of 3!

Namjoon

Namjoon knew how difficult this would be. He came to the decision this morning when he arrived at the office, after he told her about what happened with Mayumi last night.

He had to be logical about this–before things got too deep. Admittedly, it was a bit late for that. Still, he didn’t want her to keep looking over her shoulder and worrying about him. She was too great for that. What he needed her to do was focus on the path ahead of her.

He felt tortured watching her go through the motions.

She navigated through the next few days stoically–as if she was on autopilot. She lacked her usual sunshiney energy and demeanor that only rivaled Hoseok’s.

After speaking to Celina and putting in her notice, Jimin and Mirai were understandably heartbroken but knew that YN was great at what she did. It wouldn’t do her any good to be tethered to one place for too long–it would kill her spirit. Namjoon felt some comfort in being blessed with a fraction of it.

A few months ago, the office had dubbed Yoongi as the rockstar of the company when he joined. But the real rockstar, in his eyes, was her.

“Got it. Say no more.”

Those were the last words that she spoke to him directly before she retreated to her office. It was just down the hallway from him but that distance seemed to stretch lightyears away after all was said and done.

Every other conversation after that was done under the guise of business-as-usual. Meetings, project hand-offs, staff reshuffling.

During one transition meeting, she named Namjoon as the new project director for the Moonstone, wrapping up pending short-term tasks and delegating them to the rest of the team.

Yoongi was taking over in the interim to oversee foundations and philanthropic areas until a replacement was hired for her position–which, if he was being honest–were gigantic shoes to fill.

Slowly, she emptied out her office, packing up books, plaques, and other personal knick-knacks she had brought in as comfort items.

He watched as he caught a few people stopping by her office to say their goodbyes. Sometimes, she stopped by theirs to exchange memories followed by tight embraces.

She also held private conversations with Taehyung and Hobi–both of whom she hadn’t worked with that long but had formed bonds with them in the last few months. She thanked them and let them know how they’ve been instrumental in a few ad hoc tasks that she asked them to help with in the past, most especially with their latest collaborative effort.

Namjoon found Jimin sniffling in the breakroom one day, another senior analyst comforting him–he had just come off his own one-on-one farewell meeting with YN.

The days waned as her last day crept up. Celina and Yoongi planned an official going-away party at a bar close to the office. Namjoon thought about skipping it but Hobi and Taehyung convinced him to go.

Namjoon wondered if he would ever get his own 'goodbye-meeting' with her. They never really had an actual conversation about how they left things. Perhaps it would make things easier if he initiated some form of closure.

Closure. Fat chance that would be.

“You’re coming out tonight, right?” Hobi waits expectantly as they wrap up their study hall session at the conference room.

Taehyung looks up from his computer screen and at Namjoon.

He exhales sharply. “I’ve already told you multiple times, yes. And I’m senior staff–so…I kind of have to be there.”

“‘Have to’ is different from wanting to be there, Namjoonie.”

“Well, thanks for pointing that out, grammar police,” Namjoon says wryly.

Taehyung raises a tentative hand.

“Yes, Taehyung-ah?”

“W-why did you and YN–ow!” He flinches as Hobi kicks him in the shin under the table.

Namjoon gives Hobi a look before turning back to Taehyung. “What? Spit it out.”

After the young analyst rubs his leg, he goes on to ask his question. “Why’d you guys break up?”

Namjoon takes a deep breath before raking his fingers through his hair in exasperation.

“S-sorry–I know it’s personal but–I thought that things were going well?” He asks innocently.

“I–” he shakes his head.

“Why would you let her leave?” Hobi finally blurts out.

Namjoon glowers at his friend. “I’m not letting her leave. She’s free to do what she wants. And she’s been talking about leading an effort like this for…God knows how long. It’s—it’s what she’s wanted for a long time.”

“Couldn’t you find some compromise? Like–even if she was going to be away for a year? I’m sure she could take breaks in between to come home, or–”

Taehyung interjects. “Yeah–I read that Kim Haejin has great employee benefits where you don’t have to wait 10 years to take a sabbatical or like, you can take some extra time off, if you need to–great if you have a family. She really worked out that elusive work-life balance–”

“Guys!” Namjoon cuts them off. “This is bigger than us. YN…she’s meant to do great things. And I’m not going to be the one to hold her back from that.”

“That’s such horseshit and you know it, Namjoon,” Hobi says, shaking his head coupled with a look of disgust.

“Excuse me?”

“You and I know–hell, even Taehyungie knows, that you, of all people, don’t want her to leave. The real question is, why are you pushing her away? There are many ways to keep a relationship--”

Namjoon groans, puts his palms to his face and rubs his cheeks before he waved his hands in midair haphazardly. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. She’s leaving for New York in a few days!”

“That still doesn’t answer Hobi-hyung’s question,” Taehyung says.

Namjoon’s mouth is agape. Was his team actually questioning his decisions on his love-life?

“I ran into Mirai–she said she saw YN crying in the ladies’ room the other day. What exactly did you say to her?” Taehyung asks.

“Nothing!” He flared his nostrils. “Nothing that–that wouldn’t help make this decision easier for her,” he scoffed. He then glared at both his team members. “You know what, I don’t see the need to explain myself. She’s leaving. That’s it. We’re done. As is this line of inquiry,” he says as he forcefully shuts his laptop screen and abruptly walks away from them.

******

Later that afternoon, he walks towards YN’s office to find her conversing with Yoongi. She was leaning back against the front of her desk while he stood in front of her. He watched as they smiled at each other politely then hugged.

Under normal circumstances, he would have stepped in to ‘respectfully’ interrupt. But he lost that right weeks ago. Now he was just jealous that Yoongi was lucky enough to have that level of physical contact with her.

She watches as Yoongi exits her office, spotting Namjoon in the hallway in the process. He and Yoongi exchange nods before he carefully advances towards her.

“Yes?” She asks him pointedly.

“Mind if I come in?”

She shrugs then gets up from her position and rounds her desk. Namjoon scans her practically empty office–save for The Lighthouse print that he had framed. She grinned from ear to ear when she thanked him for it as soon as she found it hanging on her wall that day.

The image reminded him of her. A lighthouse was not just a beacon that guided ships and boats through dark, foggy seas. Lighthouses are also constructed to withstand powerful storms and turbulent ocean waters. It’s no wonder why they are frequently depicted as symbols of strength and resilience.

For a time, that was who she was to him. Still is. And now, he was counting on her strength and resilience to get through this. She would hate him again, yes. But he would feel better knowing that she would live her life without regrets. At least that’s what he kept telling himself.

Other than the frame, the room was pretty desolate–much like the look that she gave him.

“Mending fences?”

“I figured there was no use in hanging on to grudges,” she says nonchalantly.

Namjoon nods. “That’s good.”

She continues to type on her keyboard. “Anything else?”

This was a poor attempt at a normal conversation and they both knew it. She didn’t care much for it though. She was completely checked out when it came to him.

“Jungkook asked me about Saturday–uhm…the graduation–”

“Don’t let him guilt you into doing that. You’re not obligated. And you’re not family,” she says while staring straight into her monitor.

The last part stung him…He deserved that. “I told him I’d try. I uh–wrapped up the programming for my project so–turns out I’m free. I could take the train up there and then a cab.”

She stayed silent, as if he wasn’t even there. After a minute, she looks up at him. There was eye contact but they were distant. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that she could see right through him and this whole bullshit narrative that he was trying to push forth.

“Between you and me, I’d rather you didn’t go. But–it’s my brother’s day so, it’s really not up to me.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Understood. Are you–headed to the bar later?”

“Yes. I’m walking over there with Jimin and Mirai.”

******

He parks himself at a corner of the bar–one with a sweeping view of the entire room. Everyone at the firm manages to fill the entire establishment. He watches YN mill around with staff, trading anecdotes and other memories of working with her.

She’s held on to the same glass of wine the whole time. She takes a sip every now and then because she was more intent on socializing. Colleagues were offering to buy her drinks but she declined politely, saying that she had just gotten a refill when she really didn’t.

He tries to catch her eye, and he does…several times–willing her to come his way–even just for a moment but she never does.

*FLASHBACK*

Jeon YN is an up-and-coming public policy researcher who is already making waves in the field with her recent appeal to reform the country’s “No Child Left Behind Act” by…

“...pushing for equity and inclusion in the public education sector–”

Namjoon is startled as she reads the words aloud from his screen.

“Oh, hey–didn’t know you were there.”

She smiled at him. “I just got in. Didn’t you hear me calling out to you?”

His expression is apologetic. “Ah–sorry, Yumi–I’ve been doing some recon work on this new prospect.”

She assessed the profile photo displayed on the article then hummed. “She’s pretty.”

Namjoon smiles uncomfortably. He had been staring at YN’s photo for an unusually long time. “I was just looking at her credentials. Pretty extensive for a short amount of time. She just got her doctorate a year ago and is already making a lot of noise in her area of concentration. Celina’s been looking for somebody to run our philanthropic partnership efforts and…I really think she’s it.”

He looks up and smiles excitedly, the dimples on his cheeks deepening. “You know–if I get her on board, it could be that boost that I need to make Associate Director before the end of–”

She sighs audibly, conveying her disinterest. “That all sounds great, Joonie. Can we eat first, though? I’m starving and I’m really feeling that double-shift from the OR right about now,” she says wearily.

She stands in front of him in wrinkled scrubs, deep bags under her eyes, her ponytail all messy–it looked like she didn’t bother to redo her hair after pulling her surgical cap off.

“Ah–shit,” Namjoon gasps in horror. “I uh–”

Mayumi gives him an exhausted, dismayed look. “You didn’t order dinner? I texted you hours ago and you said you’d take care of it.”

“Sorry–I got wrapped up in this research because Celina needs–”

She groaned then shook her head gently before giving him a tight smile. “Guess I’m having instant ramyeon tonight.”

******

“Namjoonie, you said that you had it on your calendar. I even reminded you about it the other day and you said that you’d specifically block out a couple hours to have lunch with my parents.”

“Yumi, I–this is a huge deal. I did all of the legwork to get this researcher on board and I can’t welcome her on her first day?”

Mayumi was understandably upset.

“I can’t believe you, Namjoon. My parents made the trip all the way out here. You know that my dad has a bad leg and his health hasn’t been good lately…yet you’re ditching because of some lunch meet-and-greet for a new employee. It’s not like she’s a celebrity or politician–you can say ‘hi’ whenever you like! My parents are only here for–”

Namjoon grits his teeth but takes a deep breath and relents. It appeases her. “You’re right, Mayumi. Let’s go to lunch.”

******

“Okay, I updated the numbers here, here, and here. I also addressed the query about why we have multiple levels of quality assurance–”

“I got it, Namjoon-ssi,” YN said. “You emailed me this same copy, right?”

“Yes. And it’s the same one that I sent to Jin–” He is interrupted by a text on his phone. Suddenly, his expression looks pained and he starts to scramble.

She asks him if everything was alright and he mumbles something that sounded close to ‘fine.’

“Anyway, that’s all taken care of,” he refers to the revised proposal. “Can you just make sure that Celina endorses it before noon today? That’s all that needs to happen.” His footsteps rush to the door.

She follows right behind him as he walks towards the bank of elevators. “Okay, but–what if Jin finds something off in the final pass? Should we call–”

“Just–just call my cell and I’ll address it,” he says past his shoulder. “Sorry, I…I need to leave. Something came up. Just call me, okay.” He presses the down-button and the doors open straight away. He steps into the cab then hits the button for the lobby.

“Uh–okay.” YN stood rooted to her spot as she watched the elevator doors shut.

******

“Why so sudden? I don’t understand–”

“Sudden? You think this was sudden?” Mayumi yells out incredulously.

“I thought that you were just–looking around..seeing what opportunities were out there. I didn’t think you’d go for something out of state!”

“Well, I’m sorry, Namjoon but–I’m done making decisions around you. You know…it’s not enough that I stayed home during a planned two-week leave while you followed some woman around like some puppy–”

“That was not what that was. I told you that Celina asked me to look into her,” he argues.

“You could have scheduled your recon-whatever work to any day–any day! It was supposed to be our time to reconnect–”

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He dips his hand in, and without looking at the caller ID, he blindly feels around for the mute button before turning his attention back to Mayumi.

“You get called to the hospital all the time during emergencies–”

“But that is the nature of my job, Namjoon! I can’t predict when someone is about to get an organ transplant or if there’s a 15-car pileup and they need all hands on deck so sometimes, I have no choice in the matter. You, on the other hand, work in research! You choose to bury yourself in work. This time? This time, I’m choosing me.”

Namjoon steadied his breathing even though his heart was clearly about to burst out of his chest. “Mayumi–hun–couldn’t–couldn’t we just talk about this for a minute? I feel like you’re being too hasty with this decision–”

“I should have done it long ago. But I stayed because…I thought that you needed some structure at home. Away from all of your data and theories. Just–somebody to love you. But then it just became all about you and your work and–moving up the ranks. Didn’t you think that I had ambitions before you met me? I could have gone to the Mayo Clinic, Namjoon!” Instead, she found work at another notable, local hospital.

“But you found work at the Children’s Hospital here, right? You seemed to be doing pretty well there–”

“Namjoon, you’re not listening! This is not what I wanted for myself!” Her chest rapidly rose and fell–reining in years of built-up silent indignation.

“You knew how important that offer was to me–but you said we’d have options out here–I…I agreed because I thought that was all short-term! I didn’t think we’d settle here after you got your Ph.D.!”

“You told me that you were happy at your job! You always talked about how great things were going and how you had so much room for growth–”

“Yes, it was good for the time-being! And I told you that so you could focus on your post-grad stuff and not stress! I thought that after you were done chasing your dream–we’d get to mine next.”

Namjoon was aghast but was distracted once again by his phone vibrating. He absently hits the mute button once more and softens his expression for a moment. He turns to her and puts his hands to his chest, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt. “Yumi–I–I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me you felt that way?”

“I just thought that after all these years we’ve spent together, that you would have known or at least kept it in the back of your mind!”

His mood shifts from guilt to vexation. “Mayumi, I’m not a mind-reader! How am I supposed to know how you feel if you don’t tell me? So you say you’re fine but in reality, you’re not? I’m–” he sighs in frustration. “You’re not being fair,” he says quietly. “You can’t…you can’t expect me to correct something that I’m not aware of.”

“Well, that’s our problem then, right, Kim Namjoon? Your lack of awareness. And it’s that ignorance that has rotted us past the point of remedy,” she spat out.

He seethed and chewed at his bottom lip, staring at the floor in utter disbelief. Mayumi took a long, deep breath. She was at a loss and truthfully at the end of her rope. She was gripping the handle of her suitcase but somewhere from deep within her, she tugged at a small strand of hope.

“Johns Hopkins offers a great relocation policy benefit. If…if there’s a chance…” she steadied her breathing. “You know…family–including partners–are covered. If–if you want to come with me?”

She stared at him tentatively. “You can be an independent consultant. Be your own boss. You’ve made all of these connections in the last few years–there wouldn’t be a shortage of clients. Plus, we’d be in DC–there would be a ton of options for you there.”

The phone buzzed again. He figured at this point that it was the office trying to reach him. He pulls his phone out and sees Jin’s direct line on his caller ID. But he was in no fit state to make any business decisions–especially at this moment. He rejects the call again and places the phone on a table nearby.

He glances down at his watch. He had paid a fortune for it but he believed that it was a culmination of all of his hard work to get to where he was. Mayumi couldn’t hide her disappointment when he came home with it. He could have gotten a ring with a hefty setting for that price.

He suddenly felt regret–all those years–he assumed that things were fine and that she was happy but it was all a ruse to keep him happy. She’d been waiting for him to take action, to be attuned to her needs. He realized that they had been out of sync for a while.

She resented him–all these years–and although he loved her, he wasn’t sure if he could deal with that look of disappointment on her face if he gave in to her plea. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to try to stay together after this conversation.

“Mayumi, I can’t,” he utters.

“Can’t or won’t?”

His phone buzzes once more but instead of rejecting it, he decides to shut it off.

After a long beat, he finally looked up at her, his expression was decidedly settled. “I–I can’t–and won’t hold you back any more. If I couldn’t make you happy now, what difference would a change in location make?”

She purses her lips in disappointment and glances at her bare left ring finger. She had already expected this but a small part of her had hoped. He dashed that right away. “I’ll come back for the rest of my things on Monday and I really hope that you won’t be here. Goodbye, Namjoon.”

*END FLASHBACK*

“Namjoonie–”

Namjoon is jolted back to the present to find Hobi trying to call his attention.

“You spaced there for a sec,” he says as he takes a swig of his beer.

Namjoon suddenly scans the room once more but YN was nowhere to be found. He curses under his breath. “Where’s YN?”

“Uhh–” Hobi says tentatively as he also scans the room. “She was just–I thought she was talking to Jiminie and Taehyungie a moment–”

He doesn’t let his friend finish. He marches through a crowd of his coworkers, approaching the young analysts who stood in an opposite corner.

“Oh, hey, Namjoon-ssi!” Jimin says.

“Do you know where YN is? Did she go home?”

Taehyung replies, “She went over to talk to Celina–”

Namjoon cranes his neck but only sees Celina talking to Yoongi and Jin.

“She went back to the office. Said she was going to grab a couple more things then head up and take the train to see Jungkook,” Mirai interjects as she walks into the conversation.

“Wait, I thought she wasn’t leaving ‘til tomorrow?”

Mirai shrugs. “She said that she booked a last-minute ticket that leaves tonight and would just sleep on the way up there.”

“Well–how long ago was that?” He asks in a panic.

Mirai eyed him with a hint of disdain but she bit her tongue as it wasn’t her place. The fact was, he was still her superior. “I don’t know–10, 15 minutes ago,” she says as she takes a swig of her drink.

Namjoon let out a low growl of frustration. He rushes out of the bar and runs back to their office building.

When he steps out of the elevators, he rushes down the hallway towards her office. It didn’t matter how long his legs were or how wide he made his strides–he couldn’t get there fast enough.

He slows his steps once he closes in–seeing her office dark and completely empty. He stands between the door frame. Gripping the sides, he hangs his head.

The light sensor on the wall detects his movement and automatically switches on.

As it turns out, the room wasn’t completely empty. The lone occupant was a framed print of a lighthouse on the harbor.

Part 9.75◥

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